Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know, fhe would do as fhe has done, By fending me a letter? Read it again.

Stew. 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 mafter, your dear fon may bye ;
Blefs him at home in peace, whilst I from far,
His name with zealous fervour fanctify:
• His taken labours bid him me forgive;
I, bis 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 ftings are in her mildeft words!-
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice fo much,
As letting her pass fo; had I fpoke with her,
I could have well diverted her intents,

Which thus fhe hath prevented.

Stew. Pardon me, madam :

If I had given you this at over-night,

She might have been o'er-ta'en; and yet fhe writes,

• Herculean.

P advice]-difcretion.

Pursuit

Ee 3

Purfuit would be but vain.

Count. What angel fhall

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, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;

Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, fet down sharply.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger:
When, haply, he fhall 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 me, I have 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 speak.

SCENE V.

Without the walls of Florence.

A tucket afar off.

[Exeunt.

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

Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we fhall lofe all the fight.

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

a I bave no fkill in fenfe to make diftinction:]-I am unable to determine.

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 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 fo rich as honesty.

Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been folicited by a gentleman his companion.

Mar. I know the knave; hang him! one Parolles : a filthy officer he is in' thofe fuggestions 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 feduced by them; and the mifery is, example, that fo terrible 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, though there were no further danger known, but the ' modesty which is fo loft.

t

Dia. You fhall not need to fear me.

Enter Helena, difguifed like a pilgrim.

Wid. I hope fo.Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lye at my house: thither they fend one another: I'll queftion her.

God fave you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?

in thofe fuggeftions]-plots that he lays; in intriguing.

are not the things they go under :]-what their names befpeak them. "Not of that dye which their investments fhew."

HAMLET, Act I, S. 3. Pol. modefty which is loft.]—character, which is tarnish'd, though the

attempt should fail.

Hel. To St. Jaques le grand.

Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
Wid. At the St. Francis here, beside the port.
Hel. Is this the way?

Wid. Ay, marry is it. Hark you!

[A march afar off.

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 hostess

As ample as myself.

Hel. Is it yourself?

Wid. If you fhall please fo, pilgrim.

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

Hel. I did fo.

Wid. Here you fhall fee a countryman of yours, That has done worthy fervice.

Hel. His name, I pray you

Dia. The count Roufillon; Know you fuch a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; His face I know not.

Dia. Whatfoe'er he is,

He's bravely taken here. He ftole from France,
As 'tis reported, "for the king had married him
Against his liking: Think you it is fo?

Hel. Ay, furely, meer the truth; I know his lady.
Dia. There is a gentleman, that ferves the count,
Reports but coarsely 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

"for-becaufe.

Το

To have her name repeated; all her deferving
Is a referved honefty, and that

I have not heard examined.

Dia. Alas, poor lady!

'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife

Of a detefting lord.

Wid. A right good creature: wherefoe'er she is, Her heart weighs fadly: this young maid might do her A fhrewd turn, if the pleas'd.

Hel. How do you mean?

May be, the amorous count folicits her

In the unlawful purpose.

Wid. He does, indeed;

'Andy brokes with all that can in fuch a fuit

Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:

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

In honefteft defence.

Enter with drums and colours, 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, Efcalus.

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 honester,

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, That leads him to these places; were I his lady,

I'd poison that vile rascal.

* examined.]-call'd in question.

y brokes]-tampers.

Hel.