Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.
Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune
Ber. Sir it is A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake, To th' extreme edge of hazard
Duke. Then go thou forth, And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris
Ber. This very day Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Exeunt. omnes Enter Countesse & Steward.
La. 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. Reade it agen.
Letter.
I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious loue hath so in me offended, That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon With sainted vow my faults to haue amended Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre, My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie, Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre, His name with zealous feruour sanctifie: His taken labours bid him me forgiue: I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue, Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth. He is too good and faire for death, and mee, Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much, As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her, I could haue well diuerted her intents, Which thus she hath preuented
Ste. Pardon me Madam, If I had giuen you this at ouer-night, She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes Pursuite would be but vaine
La. What Angell shall Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue, Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this vnworthy husband of his wife, Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth, That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe, Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely. Dispatch the most conuenient messenger, When haply he shall heare that she is gone, He will returne, and hope I may that shee Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe, Led hither by pure loue: which of them both Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence To make distinction: prouide this Messenger: My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake, Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.
Exeunt.
A Tucket afarre off.
Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and Mariana, with other Citizens.
Widdow. Nay come, For if they do approach the Citty, We shall loose all the sight
Diana. They say, the French Count has done Most honourable seruice
Wid. It is reported, That he has taken their great'st Commander, And that with his owne hand he slew The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour, They are gone a contrarie way: harke, you may know by their Trumpets
Maria. Come lets returne againe, And suffice our selues with the report of it. Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle, The honor of a Maide is her name, And no Legacie is so rich As honestie
Widdow. I haue told my neighbour How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman His Companion