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Manka revania dulche. i Lord.

Oscorbi dulchos volivorco.
1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet;
And, hood-wink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee: haply, thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.
Par.

O, let me live,
And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak that
Which

you

will wonder at. 1 Sold.

But wilt thou faithfully? Par. If I do not, damn me. 1 Sold.

Acordo linta. Come on, thou art granted space.

[Exit, with Parolles guarded. i Lord. Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my

brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him

muffled, Till we do hear from them. 2 Sold.

Captain, I will. i Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves;Inform 'em that. 2 Sold.

So I will, sir. i Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

FLORENCE. A ROOM IN 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: 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 ? 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 by, But take the Highest to witness: Then, pray you,

tell me,

you believe

my oaths,

If I should swear by Jove's great attributes,
I lov'd you dearly, would
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 unseald;
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 desires,
Who then recover: say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so perséver.

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'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:
Mine house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.
Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my cham-

ber 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 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 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.

i Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter?

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 changed almost into another man.

i 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 tuned his bounty to sing 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 unchaste composition.

Lord. Now, God delay 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

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