Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, As oft it loses all; I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence: [Exit. SCENE III.-Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, BERTRAM, Lords, Duke. The general of our horse thou art; and we, Ber. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet Duke. And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, Ber. Then go thou forth; This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file : Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Rousillon. A Room in the house of the Countess. Enter Countess and Steward. Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Stew. [Reads.] 'I am St Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dog the heels of worth: Count. Ah, what 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 overnight, She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, Count. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear, Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Without the Walls of Florence. A tucket [trumpet] afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, 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 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, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 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. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Wid. Ay, marry, is it.-Hark you! [A march afar off. They come this way.-If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, 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 so. Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. 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. He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 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. Dia. Monsieur Parolles. What's his name? O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean I have not heard examin'd. Dia. Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Wid. Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn if she pleas'd. Hel. May be, the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Wid. How do you mean? He does, indeed; And brokes 7 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. Mar. The gods forbid else! Wid. So, now they come : |