And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?

2 Gent. Ay, Madam.

Count. And to be a foldier?

110

2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe't,

The Duke will lay upon him all the honour

That good convenience claims.

Count. Return you thither?

1 Gent. Ay, Madam, with the swifteft wing of speed. Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.

'Tis bitter.

Count. Find you that there?

Hel. Yes, Madam,

[Reading.

I Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not confenting to.

Count. Nothing in France until he have no wife? There's nothing here that is too good for him, But only the; and the deserves a Lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly Mistress. Who was with him? 1 Gent. A fervant only, and a gentleman

Which I have fometime known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 Gent. Ay, my good Lady, he.

Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness: My fon corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement.

I Gent. Indeed, good Lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have.

Count. Y'are welcome, Gentlemen; I will intreat you, when you fee my fon, to tell him, that his fword can never win the honour that he lofes: more I'll intreat you written to bear along.

1 Gent. We serve you, Madam, in that and all your worthieft affairs.

Count. Not fo, but as we change our courtefies. Will you draw near?

[Exeunt Countess and Gent.

Hel. Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! Thou shalt have none, Roufillon, none in France; Then hast thou all again. Poor Lord! is't I.

That

"

That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-fparing war? and is it I
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoaky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon on the violent speed of fire,
Fly with falfe aim; pierce the still-moving air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there:

Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff that do hold him to it;
And though I kill him not, I am the caufe
His death was fo effected. Better 'twere
I met the rav'ning lion when he roar'd
With tharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes,
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Roufillon:
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 paradife did fan the house,
And angel's office'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour my report my flight,
To confolate thine ear. Come, night! end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. Exit.

Changes to the Duke's court in Florence.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, drum and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.

Duke. The General of our Horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promifing fortune.

Ber. Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet

We'll strive to bear it for your worthy fake,

To th' extreme edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go forth,

Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;

19.

Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove

A lover of thy drum; hater of love.

i

[Exeunt

'1

SCENE VI. Changes to Roufillon in France.

Enter Countess and Steward.

Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know, she would do as he has done,i By fending me a letter? Read it again.

LETTER.

I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone s
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With fainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
My dearest master, your dear fon, may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilft I from far
His name with zealous fervour fanctify.
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live
Where death and danger dog the heels of worth.
He is too good and fair for death and me,
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words !
Rynaldo, you did never lack advice fo much,

As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,

Which thus the hath prevented.

Stew. Pardon, Madam,

If I had given you this at over-night,

She might have been o'er-ta'en; and yet she writes, Purfuit would be but vain.

Count. What angel shall

Blefs this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,

Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear,

And

And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath onh
Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rynaldo,
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, fet down sharply.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger;
When, haply, he shall hear that the is gone,
He will return, and hope I may, that the,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love. Which of them both.
Is dearest to me, I've no skill in senfe
To make distinction; provide this messenger;
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and forrow bids me fpeak.

Enter an old widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and Mariana, with other citizens.

Wid. Nay, come. For if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the fight.

Dia. They fay the French Count has done most honourable service.

Wid. It is reported, that he has ta'en their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he flew 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 fuffice 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 fo rich as honesty.

Wid. I have told my neighbour how you have been folicited by a gentleman his companion.

Mar. I know that knave, (hang him!) one Parolles; a filthy officer he is in those fuggeftions for the young Earl; beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements,

enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of luft, are the things they go under; many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that fo terrible shews in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade fucceffion, 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 found but the modesty which is so lost, Dia. You shall not need to fear me.,

:

Enter Helena, disguis'd like a pilgrim. Wid. I hope fo-Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another; I'll question her: God fave you, pilgrim! whither are you bound ?

Hel. To St. Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?

Wid. At the St. Francis, beside the port.
Hel. Is this the way?

[A march afar off.

Wid. Ay, marry, is't. Hark you, they come this

way.

If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, but till the troops come 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.

[by,

Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Wid. You came, I think, from Francea?

Hel. I did fo.

Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of your's,

That has done worthy fervice.

Hel. His name, I pray you?

Dia. The Count Roufillon: know you fuch 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 hath married him
Againft his liking. Think you it is fo?

Hel. Ay, furely, merely truth; I know his lady.