SCENE V.
Without the Walls of Florence.
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 are 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 for
the young earl7 note
.—Beware of them, Diana; their
promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these
engines of lust, are not the things they go under8 note
:
many a maid hath been seduced by them: and the
misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the
-- 412 --
wreck 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?
Hel.
To Saint Jaques le grand.
Where do the palmers9 note lodge, I do beseech you?
Wid.
At the Saint 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 pilgrim1 note,
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
As ample as myself.
-- 413 --
Hel.
Is it yourself?
Wid.
If you shall please so, pilgrim.
Hel.
I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid.
You came, I think, from France?
Hel.
I did so.
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,
He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king2 note
had married him
Against his liking: Think you it is so?
Hel.
Ay, surely, mere the truth3 note; I know his lady.
Dia.
There is a gentleman, that serves the count,
Reports but coarsely of her.
Hel.
What's his name?
Dia.
Monsieur Parolles.
Hel.
O, I believe with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great count himself, she is too mean
To have her name repeated; all her deserving
Is a reserved honesty, and that
I have not heard examin'd4 note.
Dia.
Alas, poor lady!
-- 414 --
'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife
Of a detesting lord.
Wid.
I write good creature5 note
: wheresoe'er she is,
Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.
Hel.
How do you mean?
May be, the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.
Wid.
He does, indeed;
And brokes6 note
with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard
In honestest defence.
Enter with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine
army, Bertram, and Parolles.
Mar.
The gods forbid else!
Wid.
So, now they come:—
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That, Escalus.
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,
-- 415 --
He were much goodlier: Is't not a handsome gentleman?
Hel.
I like him well.
Dia.
'Tis pity, he is not honest: Yond's that same knave,
That leads him to these places7 note
; were I his lady,
I'd poison that vile rascal.
Hel.
Which is he?
Dia.
That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he
melancholy?
Her.
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 past: 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,
-- 416 --
I will bestow some precepts on this8 note virgin,
Worthy the note.
Both.
We'll take your offer kindly.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
