Florence.
Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.
1 Lord.
You have not given him his Mother's letter?
2 Lord.
I have deliver'd 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.
1 Lord.
3 noteHe has much worthy blame laid upon him
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.
2 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.
1 Lord.
When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I
am the grave of it.
2 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.
1 Lord.
Now God delay our rebellion; as we are
ourselves, what things are we!
2 Lord.
Meerly 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
-- 364 --
he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility,
4 notein his proper stream o'erflows himself.
l Lord.
Is it not meant damnable in us to be the
trumpeters of our unlawful intents? we shall not then
have his company to night?
2 Lord.
Not 'till after midnight; for he is dieted to
his hour.
1 Lord.
That approaches apace: I would gladly
have him see his company anatomiz'd, that he might
take a measure of his own Judgment,5 note wherein so curiously
he hath set this counterfeit.
2 Lord.
We will not meddle with him 'till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other.
1 Lord.
In the mean time, what hear you of these
Wars?
2 Lord.
I hear, there is an overture of Peace.
1 Lord.
Nay, I assure you, a Peace concluded.
2 Lord.
What will Count Rousillon do then? will
he travel higher, or return again into France?
1 Lord.
I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether
of his Council.
2 Lord.
Let it be forbid, Sir! so should I be a great
deal of his act.
1 Lord.
Sir, his Wife some two months since fled
from his House, her pretence is a Pilgrimage to St.
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.
2 Lord.
How is this justified?
1 Lord.
The stronger part of it by her own letters,
-- 365 --
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.
2 Lord.
Hath the Count all this intelligence?
1 Lord.
Ay, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the verity.
2 Lord.
I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of
this.
1 Lord.
How mightily sometimes we make us comforts
of our losses!
2 Lord.
And how mightily some other times we
drown our gain in tears! the great dignity, that his
valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be
encounter'd with a shame as ample.
1 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 Servant.
How now? where's your master?
Serv.
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.
2 Lord.
They shall be no more than needful there,
if they were more than they can commend.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
