As an intellectual member of the French aristocracy, I feel love for my king and country supplemented by sympathy for Italy’s unfortunate civil war. Paired with my brother, we seek to aid in the resolution of civil-political conflict in Italy and the ailing of our king. Yet, we are lords, not foot soldiers; we shall observe, and remedy from afar in this manner. The king has commissioned us lords to speak on his behalf to the Duke of Florence. We are informing him that France does not directly support this fray between city-states, but our men stationed in Tuscan will most likely become restless from inactivity and at their ease are permitted to aid Florence. Before we embark though, Bertram, the Count of Rossillion, wishes to accompany our military. He is young, inexperienced, and stubborn, but he is eventually kept at bay here in Paris. Ironically, the captain (of cow-manure), Parolles, adopts Bertram under his wing while avoiding the war himself for reasons egotistical and enigmatic. They are now comrades.
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