I LORD. He will betray us all unto ourselves ;Inform 'em that.

2 SOLD. So I will, fir.

I LORD. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and fafely lock'd.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Florence. A Room in the WIDOW's Houfe. 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 foul, your fine frame hath love no quality?

In

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 honeft.

BER. So fhould you be.

DIA. No:

My mother did but duty; fuch, 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 fweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of fervice.

DIA. Ay, fo ferve us,

you

Till we ferve 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 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 by,

But take the Highest to witness: Then, pray you, tell 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 fwear by him whom I protest 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,

Who then recover: fay, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so perséver.

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'the world
In me to lofe.

DIA. Mine honour's fuch 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 lofe: 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.

[window;

DIA. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber

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 reasons 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, though there my hope be done.

BER. Aheaven on earth I have won, by wooing thee. [Exit. DIA. For which live long to thank both heaven and me! You may fo in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,

As if she fat in his heart; she says, 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 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. The Florentine Camp.

[Exit.

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 Y

VOL. II.

fomething in't that ftings his nature; for, on the reading it, he changed almost 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. 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 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 delay our rebellion; as we are ourselves, what things are we !

2 LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common courfe of all treafons, we ftill fee them reveal themfelves, till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he, that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper ftream o'erflows himself.

1 LORD, Is it not meant damnable in us, to be 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 this company anatomiz'd; that he might take a measure of his own judgements, wherein fo curiously he had fet this counterfeit.

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

I LORD. In the mean time, what hear you

2 LORD. I hear, there is an overture of

of thefe wars?

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?

I 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 house; her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere fanctimony, fhe accomplish'd: and, there refiding, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her laft breath, and now she fings in heaven.

2 LORD. How is this juftified?

I 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 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, 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.

I LORD, The web of our life is

of a mingled yarn,