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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. Therefore your oaths
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 thyself unto my fick defires,

Which then recover. Say, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, fhall so perfever.

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 greatest obloquy i'th' world In me to lofe.

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 i̇’th' 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, 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 fhall not hear.

Now will I charge you in the band of truth,

When you have conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,

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Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:

My reasons are most strong, and you shall 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 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 fo in the end.

As if fhe fat in's heart; fhe fays, all men

My mother told me just how he would woo,

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 men are fo braid,
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid:
Only, in this disguise, I think't no fin

To cozen him that would unjustly win.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.

OU have not given him his mother's letter?

1 Lord. Y You

2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is fomething 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 fo good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

2 Lord. Efpecially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure 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.

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

VOL. II.

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2 Lord.

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.

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 ftream o'er-flows himself.

I Lord. Is it not moft 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. 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 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.

you

I Lord. In the mean time, what hear of these wars? 2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace.

I 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, fir! fo fhould I be a great deal of his act.

I Lord. Sir, his wife, fome two months fince, fled from his houfe; her pretence is a pilgrimage to faint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with a moft auftere fanctimony, the 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 fhe fings 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 fay, 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 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 some 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.

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 defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

Enter a Servant.

How now? where's your mafter?

Ser. He met the duke in the ftreet, fir, of whom he hath taken a folemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king.

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

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I Lord. They cannot be too fweet for the king's tartnefs: 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

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my

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

2 Lord. If the bufinefs be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hafte 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 foldier? come, bring forth this counterfeit medal; h'as deceiv'd me, like a double-meaning prophefier.

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

Ber. No matter; his heels have deferv'd it in ufurping his fpurs fo long. How does he carry himself?

I Lord. I have told your lordship already: the ftocks 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 difafter of his fetting i'th' 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 V.

Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague upon him! muffled! he can fay nothing of me. 1 Lord. Hush! hoodman comes: Portotartaroffa.

Inter. 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 pafty, I can fay no more.

Inter. Bofko chimurcho.

I Lord. Biblibindo chicurmurco.

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