Count. Hel. Find you that there? Ay, madam. 1 Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which His heart was not consenting to. Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There's nothing here, that is too good for him, But only she; and she deserves a lord, That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with him? 1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have some time known. Count. Parolles, was't not? 1 Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wick edness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature 1 Gent. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that, too much, Which holds him much to have. Count. You are welcome, gentlemen, I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you Written to bear along. 2 Gent. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near? [Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France, Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I That chase thee from thy country, and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou. Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark VOL. III. E That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord! With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, My being here it is, that holds thee hence: SCENE III. Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Duke. The general of our horse thou art; we, and Great in our hope, lay our best love and cre dence, Upon thy promising fortune. Ber. 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! Ber. 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. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know, she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again. Stew. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Stew. Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be in vain. Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear, And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice.-Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Despatch the most convenient messenger : When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone, ger: My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me [Exeunt. speak. SCENE V. Without the Walls of Florence. A Tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, MARIANA, and other Citizens. Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable service. Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. Mar. I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl.-Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.-Look, here comes a pilgrim; I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another: I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Wid. At the saint Francis here, beside the port. Hel. Is this the way? Wid. Ay, marry, is it. Hark you; [A march afar off. They come this way:-If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess As ample as myself. Hel. Is it yourself? Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Wid. You came, I think, from France? Hel. Hel. Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; His face I know not. Dia. Reports but coarsely of her. Dia, Monsieur Parolles. What's his name? O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean |