SCENE 3. The Florentine camp.
[Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.]
You have not given him his mother's letter?
I have deliv'red it an hour since: there is something in't that
stings his nature; for on the reading, it he changed almost into
He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a
wife and so sweet a lady.
Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the
king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I
will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with
When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.
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.
Now, God delay our rebellion: as we are ourselves, what things
Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all
treasons, we still see them reveal themselves till they attain
to their abhorred ends; so he that in this action contrives
against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows
Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful
intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?
Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.
That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his
company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own
judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.