Par. O, ransom, ransom : -Do not hide

mine eyes.

[They seize and blindfold him.]

1. Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.

Par. I know, you are the Muskos' regiment, And I shall lose my life for want of language: If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me,

I will discover that which shall undo
The Florentine.

1. Sold. Boskos vauvado:

thee, and can speak thy tongue:

I understand
Kerelybonto:

Sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen

poniards are at thy bosom.

Par. Oh!

1. Sold. O, pray, pray, pray. Manka revania dulche.

1. 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. Ö, let me live,

And all the secrets of our camp I'll shew, 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.

1. Lord.

[Exit, with PAROLLES guarded.] 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.

1, Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves;

Inform 'em that.

2. Sold. So I will, sir.

1. Lord. Till then I'll keep him dark, and

safely lock'd.

[Exeunt.]

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 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 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

Dia. No:

you be.

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 ro

ses,

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,

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 swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him: Therefore, your

oaths

Are words, and poor conditions; but unseal'd; 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 a

scene,

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 to lose: Thus your own proper wisdom

In me

Brings in the champion honour on my part,
Against your vain assault.

Ber. Here, take my ring:

My house, mine 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 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 bury'd.

Since Frenchmen are so

braid,

Marry that will, I live and die a maid:

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

To cozen him, that would unjustly win. [Exit.]

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

1. Lord.

ther's letter?

You have not given him his mo

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.

1. 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 incurr'd 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.

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 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,

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