Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles, a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace will keepe you where you are, though there were no further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so lost Dia. You shall not neede to feare me. Enter Hellen. Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know she will lye at my house, thither they send one another, Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are bound? Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand. Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port Hel. Is this the way? A march afarre. Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way: If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime But till the troopes come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd, The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse As ample as my selfe Hel. Is it your selfe? Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure Wid. You came I thinke from France? Hel. I did so Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours That has done worthy seruice Hel. His name I pray you? Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one? Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him: His face I know not Dia. What somere he is He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France As 'tis reported: for the King had married him Against his liking. Thinke you it is so? Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count, Reports but coursely of her Hel. What's his name? Dia. Monsieur Parrolles Hel. Oh I beleeue with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing Is a reserued honestie, and that I haue not heard examin'd Dian. Alas poore Ladie, 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting Lord Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is, Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her A shrewd turne if she pleas'd Hel. How do you meane? May be the amorous Count solicites her In the vnlawfull purpose Wid. He does indeede, And brokes with all that can in such a suite Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide: But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard In honestest defence. Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the whole Armie. Mar. The goddes forbid else Wid. So, now they come: That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne, That Escalus