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.

SCENE III.-Florence. Before the DUKE's Palace.

[Exit.

Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, LORDS, Officers, Soldiers, and others.

Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, 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 tay drum, hater of love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V-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.

St, I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone ;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,

That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
My dearest master, your dear son may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour sanctify:
His taken labours bid him me forgive;
I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth

From courtly friends, with camping foes to lire,
Where death and danger dog the heels of worth :
He is tos good and fair for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

Cour. An, wnat 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,

*Discretion.

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,
He will return; and hope I may, that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love: which of them both
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction:-Provide this messenger:
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;

Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.

SCENE V-Without the Walls of Florence.

[Exeunt.

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.

VOL. II.

*Temptations.

(The names of.)

D

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 lodged;

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. I did so.

Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, That has done worthy service.

Ι

Hel. His name, I pray you.

Dia. The count Rousillon; Know you such a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: His face I know not.

Dia. Whatsoe'er he is,

He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him

Against his liking: Think you it is so?

Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady.
Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count,
Reports but coarsely of her.

Hel. What's his name?
Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Hel. O, I believe with him,

In argument of praise, or to the worth

Of the great count himself, she is too mean

To have her name repeated; all her deserving

Is a reserved honesty, and that

I have not heard examined.+‡

Dia. Alas, poor lady!

"Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife

Of a detesting lord.

Wid. A right good creature: wheresoe'er she is,

Her heart weighs sadly this young maid might do her

A shrewd turn, if she pleased.

Hel. How do you mean?

May be, the amorous count solicits her

In the unlawful purpose.

* (That.)

The entire truth.

+ Questioned.

Wid. He does, indeed;

And brokes* with all that can in such a suit

Corrupt the tender honour of a maid :

But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard

In honestest defence.

Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, BERTRAM and PAROLLES.

Mar. The gods forbid else!

Wid. So, now they come:

That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.

Hel. Which is the Frenchman ?
Dia. He;

That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow;

I would, he loved his wife if he were honester,

He were much goodlier:-Is't not a handsome gentleman ?
Hel. I like him well.

Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest: Yond's that same knave,
That leads him to these places; were I his lady,

I'd poison that vile rascal.

Hel. Which is he?

Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he melancholy? Hel. Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.

Par. Lose our drum! Well.

Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something: Look, he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you!

Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

[Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Officers, and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents

There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,

Already at my house.

Hel. I humbly thank you:

Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,

To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking,
Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,

I will bestow some precepts on this virgin,

Worthy the note.

Both. We'll take your offer kindly.

SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence.

Enter BERTRAM, and the two French LORDS.

[Exeunt.

1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his

way.

2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding,† hold me no more in your respect.

1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble.

Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him?

*Deals with panders.

A paltry fellow.

1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your fordship's entertainment.

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.

Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action to try him.

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood-wink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer* of the adversaries, when we bring him to our tents: Be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything.

2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment,† your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.

Enter PAROLLES.

1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.

Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost!-There was an excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.

2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command.

Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

Par. It might have been recovered.

Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum, or another, or hic jacet.‡

Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit; if you

* The camp.

+ Drum him out.

* Or die.