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I lov'd you dearly, would
believe my oaths,
Ber. Change it, change it :
Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs
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:
Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window;
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
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!
SCENE III. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. i Lord.
OU have not given him his mother's letter ?
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.
i Lord. He has much worthy blame lay'd upon him for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.
2 Lord. Especially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tun’d his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly
. 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 chalte 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.
i Lord. Now god allay our rebellion ! as we are ourselves, what things are we!.
2 Lord. Merely our own traitors: and as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, ere they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'er-flows himself.
i Lord. Is it not moff 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.
i Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him fee his companion 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 presence must be the whip of the other.
i Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars ? ?
2 Lord. What will count Rousillon 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! so should I be a great deal of his act.
i Lord. Sir, his wife, fome two months since, fled from his house; her pretence is a pilgrimage to faint Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with a moft austere sanctimony, she accomplish’d: and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings 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 say, 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, from point to point, to the full arming of the verity.
2 Lord. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.
i Lord. How mightily fometimes we make us comforts of our losses !
2 Lord. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears ! the great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encounter'd with a shame as ample.
i 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 despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.
Enter a Servant. How now? where's your master?
Ser. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king.
2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.
Enter Bertram. i Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness : here's his lordship now.
How now, my lord? is’t not after midnight?
Ber. I have to-night despatch'd fixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congeed with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn’d for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertain’d
my convoy; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs : the last was the greatest, but that I have not
2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.
Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier ? come, bring forth this counterfeit medal ; h'as deceiv’d me, like a double-meaning prophesier.
2 Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.
Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it in usurping his spurs so long. How does he
Ber. Nothing of me, has he?
lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it.
Enter Parolles with his Interpreter. Ber. A plague upon him! muffled ! he can say nothing of me. i Lord. Hush ! hoodman comes : Portotartarosa.
Inter. He calls for the tortures; what will you say without 'em ?
Par. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.
Inter. Bojko chimurcho.