If thou engroffeft all the griefs' as thine,
Thou robb'ft 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 foldier?

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 swifteft wing of speed. Hel. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter.

Count. Find you that there?

Hel. Ay, madam.

[Reading.

1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, 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 fhe; and fhe deserves a lord,

That twenty fuch 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 fome 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.

I Gen. Indeed, good lady,

The fellow has a deal of that, too much,

k of that, too much, which holds him much to have.]-Of that villainy, which stands him in good ftead-of that ignorance, which judges him to have much in him,

Which holds him much to have.

Count. You are welcome, gentlemen.
I will intreat you, when you fee my fon,
To tell him, that his sword can never win
The honour that he lofes: more I'll intreat you
Written to bear along.

2 Gen. We serve you, madam,

In that and all your worthieft affairs.

Count. Not fo, 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 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-fparing 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 smoky muskets? O you leaden meffengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with false aim; move the " still-piecing air,
That fings with piercing, do not touch my lord!
Whoever shoots at him, I fet him there
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was fo effected: better 'twere,

I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere,
That all the miferies, which nature owes,

Not fo, but as we change our courtefies.]-No further than our mutual civilities may extend.

ftill-piecing]-clofing after feperation.

Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Roufillon;
" Whence honour but of danger wins a scar;
As oft it lofes 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.

The Duke's Court in Florence.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, drum and trumpets, foldiers, &c.

Duke. The general of our horfe thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence, Upon thy promifing fortune.

Ber. Sir, it is

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

Duke. Then go forth;

And fortune play upon thy profperous helm,
As thy aufpicious mistress!

Ber. 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.

Whence, &c.]-From the wars, that abode of danger, where the

fairest trophy of honour is a fcar, it's frequent fortune, death.

SCENE

Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her?
Might you not know, fhe would do as she 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 courfe 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 mildest words!-
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice fo much,
As letting her pass fo; had I spoke 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 the writes,

• Herculean.

P advice]-difcretion.

Ee 3

Purfuit.

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 shall 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 sense
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 have no skill in fenfe to make diftinction:]-I am unable to deter

mine.