Sol. Captain, I will.

Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves.

Inform 'em That.

Sol. So I will, Sir...

Lord. 'Till then I'll keep him dark and fafely

lockt.

SCENE

II.

[Exeunt.

THE

Changes to the Widow's Houfe.

Enter Bertram, and Diana.

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

Ber. Titled Goddefs,

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 fuch a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern ;
And now you should be as your Mother was,
When your fweet felf was got.

Dia. She then was honest.

Ber. So fhould you be.

Dia. No.

My Mother did but duty; fuch, my Lord,

As you owe to your

Wife.

Ber. No more o' that!

I pr'ythee do not strive against my vows:
I was compell'd to her, but I love thee

By love's own fweet conftraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of fervice.

Dia. Ay, fo you serve us,

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

Ber. How have I fworn!

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth;
But the plain fingle vow, that is vow'd true;
* What is not holy, that we fwear, not 'bides,—
But take the High'ft to witnefs: then, pray tell me,
If I fhould fwear 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 fwear by him whom I proteft to love,
That I will work against him.

oaths

Therefore your

Are words, and poor conditions but unfeal'd;
At least, in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it:

Be not fo 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 thyfelf unto my fick defires,

Which then recover. Say, thou art mine; and ever My love, as it begins, shall so persever.

Dia. I fee, that men make hopes in fuch affairs That we'll forfake 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 greateft obloquy i'th' world.
In me to lose.

Dia. Mine Honour's fuch a ring;

My chastity's the jewel of our House,

What is not holy, that we fwear not by,] Yes, nothing is more common than fuch kind of Oaths. But Diana is not here accufing Bertram for fwearing by a Being not holy, but for fwearing to an unholy Purpole; therefore, is evidently corrupt, and fhould be read thus,

What is not holy, that we fwear, not 'bides,

i. e. If we fwear to an unholy Purpose the Oath abides not, but is diffolved in the making. This is an Answer to the Purpose. She fubjoins the reafon two or three Lines after.

Be

Bequeathed down from many Ancestors;
Which were the greateft obloquy i'th' world
In me to lofe. 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 fpeak to me :
My reafons are moft ftrong, and you fhall know them,
When back again this ring fhall 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 paft 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 me.

You may fo in the end.

My Mother told me juft how he would woo,
As if the fat in's heart; fhe fays, all men

Have the like oaths: he had fworn to marry me,
When his Wife's dead: therefore I'll lie with him.
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are fo braid,
Marry 'em that will, I'd live and die a maid;
Only, in this disguise, I think't no fin
To cozen him, that would unjusly win.

[Exit.

SCENE

?..

III.

SCENE

Changes to the French Camp in Florence.

Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. OU have not given him his Mother's

1 Lord. Y letter?

2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is fomething in't, that ftings his nature; for, on the reading it, he chang'd almoft into another man.

I Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for fhaking off fo good a wife, and fo fweet a lady.

2 Lord. Efpecially, 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 fhall let it dwell darkly with you.

1 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 moft chafte 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.

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

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors; and, as in the common courfe of all treafons, we ftill fee them reveal themselves, 'till they attain to their abhor'd ends; fo he, that in this action contrives againft his own Nobility, in his proper ftream o'erflows himself.

1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us to be the trumpeters of our unlawful intents? we fhall 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 fee his company anatomiz'd, that he might

take

take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein fo curiously 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. 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 affure you, a Peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Roufillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France ?

1 Lord. I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his Council.

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, Sir! fo fhould I be a great deal of his act.

I Lord. Sir, his Wife fome two months fince fled from his House, her pretence is a Pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand; which holy Undertaking, with moft auftere fanctimony, fhe accomplish'd; and there refiding, the tendernefs of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her laft breath, and now the fings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this juftified?

1 Lord. The ftronger 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 fay, is come) was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place.

2 Lord. Hath the Count all this intelligence? 1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

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

this.

1 Lord. How mightily fometimes 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, fhall at home be encounter'd with a fhame as ample.

1 Lord.