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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.
Something to save thy life.
Par. Oh 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.

Int. But wilt thou faithfully?

Par. If I do not, damn me.
Int. Acordo linta.

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..
Dia. No, my good Lord, Diana.

Ber. Titled Goddess,

And worth it with addition! but, fair foul,
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.

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My Mother did but duty; such, my Lord,
As you owe to your Wife.

Ber. No more o' 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 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;
What is not holy, that we swear not by,
But take the High'st to witness: then, pray 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 unfeal'd;

At

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: ftand no more off,
But give thy felf unto my fick desires,

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,
Bequeathed down from many Ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'th' 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'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 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, tho' there my hope be done.

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,
As if she sate in's heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths: he had fworn to marry me,
When his Wife's dead: therefore I'll lye with him,
When I am buried. (21) Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry 'em that will, I'd live and die a maid;

Only, in this disguise, I think't no fin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.

[Exit

SCENE changes to the French Camp in

Florence.

Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiens.
I Lord.
OU have not given him his Mother's
letter?

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.

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