My love, as it begins, shall fo perfever. Dia. I fee that men make hopes in fuch 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; 4 Dia. Mine honour's fuch a ring; 4 A Ber. Here, take my ring. My houfe, my honour, yea, my life, be'thine, Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamberI'll order take my mother shall not hear. [window; 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, tho' 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 You may fo in the end. [me> My mother told me just how he would woo, Marry 'em that will, I'd live and die a maid; Only, Only, in this disguise, I think no fin. [Exit. SCENE III. Changes to the French camp in Florence. Enter the two French Lords and two or three soldiers. i Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter? 2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is something in't that sting's his nature; for, on the reading it, he change'd almost into another man. 1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady. 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting difpleasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to fing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. I Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it. 2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste 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 unchafte compofition. I Lord. Now God delay our rebellion; as we are ourselves, what things we are! 2 Lord. Merely our own traitors; and as, in the common course of all treasons, we still fee them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; fo he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. 1 Lord. Is it not meant 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 company anatomiz'd, that he might take a meafure of his own judgment, wherein so curioufly he had fet this counterfeit. 2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his prefence must be the whip of the other. Lord. I Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? 2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. 1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Roufillon 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, Sir! so should I be a great deal of his act. 1 Lord. Sir, his wife some two months fince fled from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplish'd; and there refiding, 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? 1 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. : 2 Lord. Hath the Count all this intelligence? from point, to the full arming of the verity. 2 Lord. I am heartily forry that he'll be glad of this. I Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our loffes! 2 Lord. And how mightily fome other times we drown our gain in tears! the great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample. 1 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 defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. Enter a fervant. How now? where's your master? Ser. He met the Duke in the street, Sir, of whom he - hath taken a folemn leave: his Lordship will next H2 morning 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. SCENE IV. Enter Bertram. I Lord. They cannot be too fweet for the King's tartness. Here's his Lordship now. How now, my Lord, is't not after midnight? Ber. I have to-night dispatch'd fixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of fucce's; I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neareft; buried a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy: and, between these main parcels of dispatch, effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hafte to 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 foldier? Come bring forth this counterfeit medal; h'as deceiv'd me, like a doublemeaning prophefier. 2 Lord. Bring him forth; he's fat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in ufurping his fpurs 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 fhed 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 instant disaster of his fetting ỉ thì stocks; and what, think you, he hath confefs'd? Ber. Nothing of me, has he? 2 Lord. His confeffion is taken, and it shall be read to his face: if your Lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it. SCENE Ber. A plague upon him, muffled! he can fay no thing of me; hush! hush ! 1 Lord. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa. Int. He calls for the tortures; what will you fay without 'em ? Par. I will confefs what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, 1 can fay no more. Int. Bofko chimurcho. 2 Lord Biblibindo chicurmurčo. 6 Int. You are a merciful General: our General bids you anfwer to what I ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live. Int. First demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong. What fay you to that? Par. Five or fix thousand, but very weak and unserviceable. The troops are all scatter'd, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. Int. Shall I fet down your answer fo? Par. Do; I'll take the facrament on't, how and which way you will: all's one to me. Ber. What a past-faving flave is this! 1 Lord, Y'are deceiv'd, my Lord; this is Monfieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, that was his own phrafe, that had the whole theory of war in the knot of his fcarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger. 2 Lord. I will never trust a man again for keeping his fword clean; nor believe he can have every thing in him, by wearing his apparel neatly. Int. Well, that's fet down. Par. Five or fix thousand horse I faid (I will fay true) or thereabouts, fet down, for I'll fpeak truth. I Lord. He's very near the truth in this. Ber. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it. Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. Par. |