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His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despightful 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 bim free.

Ah, what sharp slings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,
I cold have well diverted her intents,

Which thus she 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

Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heav'n delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
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,
Tho' little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Difpatch 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 be, I've no skill in sense
To make distinction; provide this messenger;
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and forrow bids me fpeak.

[Exeunt.

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SCENE changes to a publick place in Florence.

A Tucket afar off.

Enter an old widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and

Wid.

Mariana, with other citizens.

NAY, comha

For if they do approach the

city, we shall lose all the fight. Dia. They say, the French Count has done most honourable service.

Wid. It is reported, that he has ta'en their greateft 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 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 follicited 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; (28) their promises,

(28) Their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of luft, are not the things they go under;) i.e. They are not in reality fo true and fincere, as in appearance they seem to be. This. will be best explain'd by another passage in Hamlet, where Polonius is counfelling his daughter.

I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul
Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, oh, my daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both
Ev'n in their promise as it is a making,

You must not take for fire.

-- In few, Ophelia,

Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers
Not of that dye which their invefments shew,
But mere implorers of unholy fuits,
Breathing, like fanctified and holy bawds,
The better to beguile.

enticements,

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 terribly shews 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, tho' there were no further danger known, 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 save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound ?

Hel. To St. Jacques 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 by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd;

The rather, for, I think, I know your hoftess

As ample as my self.

Hel. Is it yourself?

Wid. If you fhall please so, Pilgrim.

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

Hel. I did fo.

Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours,

That has done worthy service.

Hel. His name, I pray you?:

Dia. The Count Roufillon: 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, furely, 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. Monfieur Parolles.

Hel. Oh, 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 referved honesty, and that

I have not heard examin'd.

Dia. Alas, poor Lady!

'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife Of a detesting Lord.

Wid. Ah! right; good creature! wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly; this young maid might do hez A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

Hel. How do you mean?

May be, the am'rous Count sollicits her

In the unlawful purpose.

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.

Drum and Colours. Enter Bertram, Parolles, Officers

and Soldiers attending.

Mar. The gods forbid elfe !

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 lov'd his wife! if he were honefter,
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, (29)

That leads him to these paces; 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' th' battle.

Par. Lose our drum! well.

Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something. Look, he

has fpied us.

Wid. Marry, hang you!

[Exeunt Ber. Par. &c.

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

Wid. The troop is past: come, Pilgrim, I will bring you,

Where you shall host: Of injoyn'd penitents
There's four or five, to great St. Jacques 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.

[Exeunt.

Enter Bertram, and the two French Lords.

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 deceiv'd in him

(29)

--Yond's that same fillow,

That leads bim to these Places. What places? He did not lead him to be general of horfse under the Duke of Florence, fure. Nor have they been talking of brothels; or, indeed, any particular Locality. I make no question, but our author wrote;

That leads bim to these paces.

i. e. to fuch irregular steps, to courses of debauchery, to not loving his wife.

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