Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within between

two foldiers and my young lady.

Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, fome comfort; your fon will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

Clo. So say I, Madam, if he run away, as I hear he does; the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more. For my part, I only hear, your son was run away.

Enter Helena, and two Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Save you, good Madam.

Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not say fo.

Count. Think upon patience: 'pray you, gentlemen,

I've felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,

Can woman me unto't. Where is my fon?

2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Fle

rence.

We met him thitherward, for thence we came;
And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.

Hel. Look on this letter, Madam; here's my passport.

When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off; and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband: but in fuch a Then I write a Never.

This is a dreadful sentence.

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

1 Gent. Ay, Madam, and, for the contents' fake, are

forry for our pains.

Count. I pr'ythee, lady, have a better cheer.

If thou engrofssest all the griefs as thine,
VOL. III.

C

Thou

1

Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my fon,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,

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

2 Gen. Ay, Madam.

Count. And to be a soldier ?

1

2 Gen. 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 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the swiftest 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 confenting to.

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

1 Gen. A fervant only, and a gentleman

Which I have some time known.

Count. Parolles, was't not?

1 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;
Then haft thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing 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 the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing 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 tho' I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected. Better 'twere,
I met the rav'ning 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, 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 angels offic'd all; I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To confolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[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
Upon thy promising fortune.

Ber. Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy fake,
Toth' extream edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go forth,

And fortune play upon thy prosp'rous helm,

As thy auspicious mistress!

Ber. This very day,

1

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 changes to Roufillon in France.

Enter Countess and Steward.

Las! and would you take the letter of

Count A

her?

Might you not know, she would do, as she

has done,

By sending me a letter? Read it again.

LETTER.

I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love bath fo 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 bie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
His name with zealous fervour fanctifie.
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

1, bis despightful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live;
Where death and danger dog the beels of worth.
He is too good and fair for death and me,
Whom 1 myself embrace, to set him free.

Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, 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

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,
Unless her prayers, whom heaven 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.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger;
When, haply, he shall hear that the 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 me, 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.

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. NAY, come. 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 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.