Act III · Scene IV
Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.
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Enter COUNTESS and Steward
COUNTESS
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? Read it again.
Steward
[Reads]I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:Ambitious love hath so in me offended,That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,With sainted vow my faults to have amended.Write, write, that from the bloody course of warMy dearest master, your dear son, may hie:Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from farHis name with zealous fervor sanctify:His taken labours bid him me forgive;I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forthFrom courtly friends, with camping foes to live,Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth:He is too good and fair for death and me:Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
COUNTESS
Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,I could have well diverted her intents,Which thus she hath prevented.
Steward
Pardon me, madam:If I had given you this at over-night,She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes,Pursuit would be but vain.
COUNTESS
What angel shallBless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hearAnd loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrathOf greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,To this unworthy husband of his wife;Let every word weigh heavy of her worthThat he does weigh too light: my greatest grief.Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.Dispatch the most convenient messenger:When haply he shall hear that she is gone,He will return; and hope I may that she,Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,Led hither by pure love: which of them bothIs dearest to me. I have no skill in senseTo make distinction: provide this messenger:My heart is heavy and mine age is weak;Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
Exeunt