No, come thou home, Rousillon,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all: I will be gone;
My being here it is that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house
And angels officed all: I will be gone,
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.
[Exit]
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
ACT III
SCENE III Florence. Before the DUKE's palace.
[Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM,
PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets]
DUKE The general of our horse thou art; and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
Upon thy promising fortune.
BERTRAM Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
To the extreme edge of hazard.
DUKE Then go thou forth;
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress!
BERTRAM This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove
A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
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