His taken labours bid him me forgive;
I, his defpightful Juno, fent 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 fet him free.

Ah, what sharp flings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did never lack advice fo much,
As letting her pafs fo; had I fpoke with her,
I cold have well diverted her intents,
Which thus fhe hath prevented.

Stew. Pardon, Madam,

If I had given you this at over-night

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

Count. What angel fhall

Blefs this unworthy bufband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom Heav'n delights to hear,
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest juftice. 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, fet down fharply.
Difpatch the moft convenient meffenger;
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return; and hope I may, that the,
Hearing fo much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love. Which of them both
Is dearest to be, I've no skill in fenfe

To make diftinction; provide this messenger;
My
heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;
Grief would have tears, and forrow bids me fpeak.

SCENE changes to a publick place in Florence.

A Tucket afar off.

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

Wid.

For if they do approach the

city, we shall lose all the fight.

Dia. They fay, the French Count has done most honourable fervice.

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 loft our labour, they are gone a contrary way: hark, you may know by their trumpets.

Mar. Come, let's return again, and fuffice ourfelves 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 follicited by a gentleman his companion.

Mar. I know that knave, (hang him!) one Parolles ; a filthy officer he is in thofe fuggeftions for the young Earl; beware of them, Diana; (28) their promises,

(28) Their promifes, 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 feem to be. This will be beft explain'd by another paffage in Hamlet, where Polonius is counfelling his daughter.

-I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul
Lends the tongue vows,

Thefe 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 fhew,
But mere implorers of unholy fuits,
Breathing, like fanctified and holy bawds,
The better to beguile.

enticements,

enticements, oaths, tokens, and all thefe engines of luft, are not the things they go under; many a maid hath been feduced by them, and the mifery is, example, that fo terribly fhews in the wreck of maidenhood,. cannot for all that diffuade 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, tho' there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is fo loft.

Dia. You fhall not need to fear me.

Enter Helena, difguis'd like a Pilgrim;

Wid. I hope fo.-Look, here comes a Pilgrim; I know, he will lie at my houfe; thither they fend one another; I'll question her: God fave you, pilgrim! whither are you bound?

Hel. To St. Jacques le Grand. Where do the Palmers lodge, I do befeech you?

Wid. At the St. Francis, befide 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 fhall be lodg'd;

The rather, for, I think, I know your hoftefs
As ample as my self.

Hel. Is it yourfelf?

Wid. If you fhall pleafe fo, Pilgrim.

Hel. I thank you, and will ftay 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 Roufillen: know you fuch a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears moft nobly of him ; His face I know not.

Dia. Whatfoe'er he is, He's bravely taken here.

He ftole from France,
C 5

Ast

As 'tis reported; for the King had married him
Against his liking. Think you, it is fo?

Hel. Ay, furely, mere the truth; I know his Lady. Dia. There is a Gentleman, that ferves the Count, Reports but coarfely of her.

Hel. What's his name?

Dia. Monfieur Parolles.

Hel. Oh, I believe with him,
In argument of praife, or to the worth
Of the great Count himself, fhe is too mean
To have her name repeated; all her deferving
Is a referved honefty, and that

I have not heard examin'd.

Dia. Alas, poor Lady!

'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife

Of a detefting Lord.

Wid. Ah! right; good creature! wherefoe'er fhe is, Her heart weighs fadly; this young maid might do hez A fhrewd turn, if the pleas'd.

Hel. How do you mean?

May be, the am'rous Count follicits her

In the unlawful purpose.

Wid. He does, indeed;

And brokes with all, that can in fuch a fuit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid;

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

In honefteft 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 fon;

That Escalus.

Hel. Which is the Frenchman ?

Dia. He;

That with the plume; 'tis a moft gallant fellow ;
I would, he lov'd his wife! if he were honefter,

He were much goodlier. Is't not a handfome gentleman?

Hel. I like him well.

Dia. "Tis pity, he is not honeft; yond's that fame' knave, (29)

That leads him to thefe paces; were I his Lady,
I'd poifon 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. Lofe our drum well.

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

has fpied us.

Wid. Marry, hang you!

[Exeunt Ber. Par. sc.

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

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

Where you fhall hoft: 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 fome precepts on this virgin

Worthy the note.

Both. We'll take your offer kindly.

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 fo far deceiv'd in him?

(29)

-Yond's that fame fellow,

That leads bim to thefe Places. What places He did not i lead him to be general of horfe 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 courfes of debauchery, to not loving his wife,

C 6

1 Lord.