• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

SECOND LORD.

You have not given him his mother's letter?

FIRST LORD.

I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something

in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd

almost into another man.

SECOND LORD.

He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off

so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

FIRST LORD.

Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure

of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to

him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

SECOND LORD.

When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

FIRST LORD.

He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence,

of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in

the spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring,

and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

SECOND LORD.

Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves,

what things are we!

FIRST LORD.

Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of

all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain

to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives

against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows himself.

SECOND LORD.

Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our

unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company

to-night?

FIRST LORD.

Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

SECOND LORD.

That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his

company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own

judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

FIRST LORD.

We will not meddle with him till he come; for his

presence must be the whip of the other.

SECOND LORD.

In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

FIRST LORD.

I hear there is an overture of peace.

SECOND LORD.

Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

FIRST LORD.

What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel

higher, or return again into France?

SECOND LORD.

I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his counsel.

FIRST LORD.

Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of his act.

SECOND LORD.

Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his

house. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand;

which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she

accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature

became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last

breath, and now she sings in heaven.

FIRST LORD.

How is this justified?

SECOND LORD.

The stronger part of it by her own letters, which

makes her story true even to the point of her death. Her death

itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was

faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place.

FIRST LORD.

Hath the Count all this intelligence?

SECOND LORD.

Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from

point, to the full arming of the verity.

FIRST LORD.

I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

SECOND LORD.

How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

FIRST LORD.

And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in

tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for

him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample.

SECOND LORD.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them

not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

Enter a MESSENGER

How now? Where's your master?

SERVANT.

He met the Duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath taken

a solemn leave. His lordship will next morning for France.

The

Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King.

SECOND LORD.

They shall be no more than needful there, if they were

more than they can commend.

FIRST LORD.

They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness.

Here's his lordship now.

Enter BERTRAM

How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?

BERTRAM.

I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses,