Par. Oh! ransom, ransom :-do not hide mine eyes. [They feize him and blindfold him. Inter. 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'll discover That which shall undo the Florentine. Inter. Boskos vauvado; I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue; Kerelybonto, Sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bofom. Par. Oh! Int. Oh, pray, pray, pray. Mancha ravancha dulche. Lord. Ofceoribi dulchos volivorco. Int. The General is content to spare thee yet, And, hood-winkt as thou art, will lead thee on Haply thou may'st inform To gather from thee. And all the secrets of our Camp I'll shew; Their force, their purposes: nay, I'll speak That Which you will wonder at. Int. But wilt thou faithfully? Par. If I do not, damn me. Come on, thou art granted space. [Exit. [A short alarum within. Lord. Go, tell the Count Roussillon and my brother, We've caught the woodcock, and will keep him muf fled 'Till we do hear from them. Sol. Captain, I will. Lord. He will betray us all unto our selves, Inform 'em That. Sol. So I will, Sir. Lord. "Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lockt. [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE changes to the Widow's House. T Enter Bertram, and Diana. HEY told me, that your name was Fontibell.. Ber. Titled Goddess, And worth it with addition! but, fair foul, My Mother did but duty; such, my Lord, Ber. No more o' that! I pr'ythee do not strive against my vows: By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Dia. Ay, so you serve us, 'Till we serve you: but when you have our rofes, You barely leave our thorns to prick our selves, 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; At At least, in my opinion. Ber. Change it, change it: Which then recover. Say, thou art mine; and ever My love, as it begins, shall so perfever. Dia. I fee, that men make hopes in such affairs That we'll forsake our selves. 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, Dia. Mine Honour's such a ring; Ber. Here, take my ring. My House, my Honour, yea, my life be thine, Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window; I'll order take, my Mother shall not hear. Ber 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 so in the end. My Mother told me just how he would woo, Only, in this disguise, I think't no fin [Exit SCENE changes to the French Camp in Florence. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiens. Y 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 chang'd almost into another man. (21) Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry that will, I'll live and dye a Maid.] This is certainly the most cruel Resolution, that ever poor Wench made. What! because Frenchmen were false, She, that was an Italian, would marry Nobody. But it is plain, as refin'd as this Reafoning is, her Mother did not understand the Delicacy of the Conclusion; for afterwards She comes into Helen's Project, on the Promise of a good round Dow'ry of 3000 Crowns, to help her Daughter to a Husband. In short, the Text is, without all Question, corrupted; and we should read it thus. - Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry 'em that will, I'de live and dye a Maid. i. e. fince Frenchmen prove so crooked and perverse in their Manners, let who will marry them, I had rather live and die a Maid than venture upon them. This she says with a view to Helen, who appear'd so fond of her Husband, and went thro fo many Difficulties to obtain him. Mr. Warburton. Lord. 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 incurred the everlasting difpleafure 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. 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 our selves, what things are we! 2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors; and, as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, 'till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. I Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us to be the trumpeters of our unlawful intents? we shall 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 see his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein so curiously he had set 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 assure 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. |