'Till we do hear from them.

Sol. Captain, I will.

Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves, Inform 'em that.

Sol. So I will, sir.

100

Lord. 'Till then I'll keep him dark, and safely

lockt.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Widow's House. Enter BERTRAM, and DIANA.

Ber. They told me that your name was Fontibell. Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.

Ber. Titled goddess,

And worth it with addition! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality?

If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:
When you are dead, you should be such a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet self was got.

Dia. She then was honest.

Ber. So should you be.

Dia. No.

My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.

Ber. No more of that!

I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows :

110

120

I was compell'd to her; but I love thee

By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.

Dia. Ay, so you serve us,

'Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness.

Ber. How have I sworn?

130

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth, But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. What is not holy, that we swear not 'bides, But take the Highest to witness: Then, pray you

me,

If I should swear by Jove's great attributes
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.

tell

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 sick desire,

140

Who then recovers. Say, thou art mine; and ever My love, as it begins, shall so persevere.

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

Το

To give it from me.

150

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' the 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' the world
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain assault.

Ber. Here, take my ring:

My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.

160

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,

170

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 heaven on earth I have won by wooing

thee.

[Exit.

Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven and

me!

You may so in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in his heart; she says, all men

180

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 Frenchmen 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.

SCENE III.

The Florentine Camp. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.

1 Lord. You have not given him his mother's

letter ?

189

2 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.

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 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 with you.

1 Lord.

1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

200

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 unchaste composition.

1 Lord. Now God delay our rebellion ; as we are ourselves, what things are we !

2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors. And, as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, 'till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so 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.

1 Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz'd; that he might take a measure of his own judgment, wherein so curiously he hath set this counterfeit.

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

1 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 Rousillon do then? will