Nothing in France, until he has no wife!

Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France,
Then hast 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 smoky muskets 13? O, you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with false aim; move the still-peering" 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, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 't were,

I met the ravin lion when he roar'd

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 't were,
That all the miseries which nature owes

Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rousillon,
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 paradise did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;

That pitiful rumour may report my flight,

To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!

For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

[Erit.

SCENE III.-Florence. Before the Duke's Palace.

Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers,

and others.

DUKE. The 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 sake,

To the extreme edge of hazard.

Still-peering. This is the reading of the original. It is usually printed still-piercing, which has no meaning. Malone adopts still-piecing—the air that closes immediately. The sense of the original reading-still-peering-appearing still-seems quite as good.

SCENE IV.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS and Steward.

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

STEW.

I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that, from the bloody course of war,
My dearest master, your dear son, may hie;
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
His name with zealous fervour sanctify;
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despiteful Juno, sent 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 set him free.

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.

[Exeunt.

Let every word weigh heavy of her worth,
That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Despatch 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 distinction:-Provide this messenger :-
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;

Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.

SCENE V.-Without the Walls of Florence.

[Exeunt.

a

A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA. MARIANA, and other Citizens.

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 have 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 b 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 shows in the wrack 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.

Enter HELENA, in the dress of a pilgrim.

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.

God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?

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

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.

DIA.

Whatsoe'er he is,

b

Her heart weighs sadly this young maid might do her

A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

For because.

[A march afar off.

Ay, right. The original reads, I write; which Malone adopts. But ay is so invariably printed I, that we doubt the propriety of retaining this forced expression, when the simple assent of the Widow to Diana's reflection is so obvious.

Enter, with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, BERTRAM, and

That with the plume: 't is a most gallant fellow;

I would he lov'd his wife: if he were honester

He were much goodlier:-Is 't not a handsome gentleman?
HEL. I like him well.

DIA. "T is pity he is not honest: Yond's that same knave,
That leads him to these places; were I his lady,

I would poison that vile rascal.

DIA. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he melancholy?
HEL. Perchance he 's hurt i' the battle.

PAR. Lose our drum! well.

MAR. He's shrewdly vexed at something: Look, he has spied us.
WID. Marry, hang you!

MAR. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

[Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Officers, and Soldiers.

WID. The troop is pass'd: Come, pilgrim, I will bring you

Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents

There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at my house.

HEL.

I humbly thank you :
Please it this matron, and this gentle maid,
To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking
Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts on this virgin,
Worthy the note.

Вотн.

We'll take your offer kindly.

[Exeunt.