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 sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.

Dia. Ay, fo you ferve 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 fworn?

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth; But the plain fingle vow, that is vow'd true. Ber. 'What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the Highest to witness.

Dia. Then, pray you, tell me,

If I should swear by Love'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 to 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;

frive against my vows:]-plead against the vow I have made never to cohabit with Helena.

f What is not holy,]-I will not bind myself to thee by the flight and ordinary proteftations of lovers.

8 ill?-in an unlawful way.

this has no bolding, to fear to him, &c.]-there is no confiftency in fwearing to a person that I love him, when I mean only to injure himby him.

Be

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 defire,

Who then recovers: fay, thou art mine, and ever
My love, as it begins, fhall fo perfever.

i

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 lose.

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 affault.

Ber. Here, take my ring:

My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,

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,
Remain there but an hour, nor fpeak to me:

i make hopes in fuch affairs,]-conceive hopes of fuccefs-in fuch a fcene-when once we admit them to make their amorous protestations. be bid by thee.]-be at thy difpofal.

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 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 fo in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,

As if fhe fat in his heart; fhe 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 bury'd. Since Frenchmen are so ' braid,
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid:

m

Only, in this disguise, I think't no fin

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? 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 almost into another man.

1 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 dif

1 braid,]-deceitful.

m I live.

pleasure

pleasure 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 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 ourfelves, what things are we!

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

I Lord. Is it not most 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 his companion anatomized; 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.

I 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.

。 'till.

n delay-avert, prevent. P in his proper stream o'erflows himself.]-betrays his fecrets by his own talk. 9 meant; meantime; mean and.

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 counsel.

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

1 Lord. Sir, his wife, fome two months fince, fled from his house; her pretence, a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with most auftere sanctimony, fhe accomplish'd: and, there refiding, through the tenderness of her nature, became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she fings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this 'justified?

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?

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. 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.—

• the tenderness.

t juftified?-made out, evinced.

น

" from point to point,-point for point.

Enter