_First Lord._ When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.
_Sec. 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 15 her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.
_First Lord._ Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, what things are we!
_Sec. Lord._ Merely our own traitors. And as in the 20 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 himself.
_First Lord._ Is it not meant damnable in us, to be 25 trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?
_Sec. Lord._ Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.
_First Lord._ That approaches apace: I would gladly 30 have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.
_Sec. Lord._ We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. 35
_First Lord._ In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?
_Sec. Lord._ I hear there is an overture of peace.
_First Lord._ Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
_Sec. Lord._ What will Count Rousillon do then? will 40 he travel higher, or return again into France?
_First Lord._ I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.
_Sec. Lord._ Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act. 45
_First Lord._ Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a 50 groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.
_First Lord._ The stronger part of it by her own letters, 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, 55 was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place.
_Sec. Lord._ Hath the count all this intelligence?