Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my fon, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? 2 Gen. Ay, Madam. Count. And to be a foldier ? 2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honour Count. Return you thither? 1 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the fwifteft 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. 1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, happ'ly, 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 the deferves a lord, That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? I Gen. A fervant only, and a gentleman Which I have fome time known. Count. Parolles, was't not? I Gen. Ay, my good lady, he. Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness: My fon corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. 1 Gen. 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 see my fon, to tell him, that his sword can never win the honour that he loses: more I'll intreat you written to bear along. 2 Gen. We serve you, Madam, in that and all your worthiest affairs. Count. Not so, but as we change our courtefies. 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 Thou shalt have none, Roufillon, none in France; 1 : Of the none-sparing war? and is it I, [Exit. SCENE changes to the Duke's Court in Florence. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Drum and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles. Duke. T HE General of our Horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence : Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Duke. Then go forth, And fortune play upon thy prosp'rous helm, Ber. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file; Count. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Rousillon in France. A Enter Countess and Steward. Las! and would you take the letter of her? she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again. LETTER. I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; His taken labours bid him me forgive; 1, his despightful Juno, sent him forth Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words? Stew. Stew. Pardon, Madam, If I had given you this at over-night She might have been o'er-ta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, [Exeunt. 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. N AY, come. For if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the fight. Dia. They say, 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 lost our labour, they are gone a contrary way: hark, you may know by their trumpets. C3 Mar. 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 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; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of luft, are not the things they go under; many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shews 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, the there were no further danger known, but the modesty which is so loft. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Enter Helena, disguis'd like a Pilgrim. Wid. I hope fo. - Look, here comes a pilgrim; F know, she will lye at my house; thither they send one another; I'll question her: God save 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 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. I did fo. |