I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? this has no holding,
To swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him. Therefore your

oaths
Are words, and poor conditions, but unseal’d,
At least, in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it :
Be not so holy cruel; love is holy;
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts
That

you do charge men with : stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my fick desires,
Which then recover. Say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so persever.

Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me.

Dia. Will you not, my lord ?

Ber. It is an honour ’longing to our house, Bequeathed down from

many

ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i'th' world In me to lose.

Dia. Mine honour's such a ring;
My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'th' world
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain affault.

Ber. Here, take my ring:
My house, my honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.

Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window;
I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,

Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
When back again this ring shall be deliver’d:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that, what in time proceeds,
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then; then, fail not: you have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

Ber. A heav'n on earth I've won by wooing thee. [Exit.

Dia. For which live long to thank both heav'n and me!
You may so in the end.
My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in's heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
When his wife's dead: therefore I'll lie with him
When I am buried. Since men are so braid,
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid :
Only, in this disguise, I think’t no sin
To cozen him that would unjustly win.

[Exit.

You

SC EN E III. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. i Lord.

OU have not given him his mother's letter?

Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour since; there is something in't that stings his nature; for, on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man.

i Lord. He has much worthy blame lay'd upon him for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

2 Lord. Especially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly

. i Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the

with you,

grave of it.

Vol. II.

D d d

2 Lord.

2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chalte renown, and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour; he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

i Lord. Now god allay our rebellion ! as we are ourselves, what things are we!.

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors: and as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, ere they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'er-flows himself.

i Lord. Is it not moff damnable in us to be the trumpeters of our unlawful intents ? we shall not then have his company to-night?

2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

i Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him fee his companion anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own judgment, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other.

i Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars ?
2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace.
i Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

2 Lord. What will count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France ?

i Lord. I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, fir! so should I be a great deal of his act.

i Lord. Sir, his wife, fome two months since, fled from his house; her pretence is a pilgrimage to faint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with a moft austere fanctimony, she accomplish’d: 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.

2 Lord. How is this justified ?
i Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes

her

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.

2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ?

i Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, from point to point, to the full arming of the verity.

2 Lord. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

i Lord. How mightily fometimes we make us comforts of our losses !

2 Lord. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears ! the great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encounter'd with a shame as ample.

i Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our faults whip’d them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

Enter a Servant. How now? where's your master?

Ser. 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.

2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.

Enter Bertram. i 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?

Ber. I have to-night despatch'd fixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congeed with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn’d for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertain’d

Ddd 2

my

ended yet.

my convoy; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs : the last was the greatest, but that I have not

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier ? come, bring forth this counterfeit medal ; h'as deceiv’d me, like a double-meaning prophesier.

2 Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it in usurping his spurs so long. How does he

carry

himself?
i Lord. I have told your lordship already: the stocks carry
him. But, to answer you as you would be understood, he weeps
like a wench that had shed her milk; he hath confefs'd himself to
Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his
remembrance to this very inftant disaster of his setting i'th'
stocks; and what, think you, he hath confess’d?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?
2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his
if
your

lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it.

face;

SCENE V.

Enter Parolles with his Interpreter. Ber. A plague upon him! muffled ! he can say nothing of me. i Lord. Hush ! hoodman comes : Portotartarosa.

Inter. He calls for the tortures; what will you say without 'em ?

Par. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

Inter. Bojko chimurcho.
i Lord, Biblibindo chicurmurce.