Page 848 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

BERTRAM

This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;
Make me but like my thoughts and I shall prove [10]

A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
Exeunt.

Scene IV IT

Enter the Countess and the 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
(reading)
I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone.

Ambitious love hath so in me offended [5]
That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
My dearest master, your dear son, may hie.

Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far [10]
His name with zealous fervour sanctify.
His taken labours bid him me forgive;

I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends, with camping foes to live
Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. [15]
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!
Rynaldo, you did never lack advice so much
As letting her pass so. Had I spoke with her, [20]