SECOND LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. FIRST LORD. 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. SECOND LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. FIRST LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? SECOND LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace. FIRST LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. SECOND LORD. What will Count Rossillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France? FIRST LORD. I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. SECOND LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of his act. 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 groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. SECOND LORD. How is this justified? 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, was faithfully confirm’d by the rector of the place. SECOND LORD. Hath the count all this intelligence? FIRST LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. SECOND LORD. I am heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this. FIRST LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! SECOND LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir’d for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample. FIRST LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish’d by our virtues. Enter a Messenger. How now? Where’s your master? MESSENGER. He met the duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king. SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter Bertram. FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the king’s tartness. Here’s his lordship now. How now, my lord, is’t not after midnight? BERTRAM. I have tonight despatch’d sixteen businesses, a month’s length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn’d for her, writ to my lady mother I am returning, entertained my convoy, and between these main parcels of despatch effected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.