Sir, his wife some two months since fled

First Lord
Sir, his wife some two months since fled
from his house. Her pretense 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.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn,
good and ill together.

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 confirmed 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!Irony
Second Lord
And how mightily some other times we
drown our gain in tears!Irony The great dignity that his
valor hath here acquir'd for him shall at home be
encount'red with a shame as ample.Irony
First Lord
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn,
good and ill togetherMetaphor: our virtues would be proud,
if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes
would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.Personification