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.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Boskos vauvado:—I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue.
Kerelybonto:—Sir,
Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.
PAROLLES. O!
FIRST SOLDIER.
O, pray, pray, pray!—
Manka revania dulche.
FIRST LORD.
Oscorbi dulchos volivorco.
FIRST SOLDIER.
The General is content to spare thee yet;
And, hoodwink’d as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform
Something to save thy life.
PAROLLES.
O, let me live,
And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show,
Their force, their purposes: nay, I’ll speak that
Which you will wonder at.
FIRST SOLDIER.
But wilt thou faithfully?
PAROLLES.
If I do not, damn me.
FIRST SOLDIER.
Acordo linta.—
Come on; thou art granted space.
[Exit, with PAROLLES guarded.]
FIRST LORD.
Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled
Till we do hear from them.
SECOND SOLDIER.
Captain, I will.
FIRST LORD.
‘A will betray us all unto ourselves;—
Inform ‘em that.
SECOND SOLDIER.
So I will, sir.
FIRST LORD.
Till then I’ll keep him dark, and safely lock’d.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 2. Florence. A room in the WIDOW’S house.
[Enter BERTRAM and DIANA.]
BERTRAM.
They told me that your name was Fontibell.
DIANA.
No, my good lord, Diana.
BERTRAM.
Titled goddess;
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.
DIANA.
She then was honest.
BERTRAM.
So should you be.
DIANA.
No:
My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.
BERTRAM.
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.
DIANA.
Ay, so you serve 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.
BERTRAM.
How have I sworn?
DIANA.
‘Tis not the many oaths that makes 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.
BERTRAM.
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 persever.
DIANA.
I see that men make hopes in such a case,
That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
BERTRAM.
I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.
DIANA.
Will you not, my lord?
BERTRAM.
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.
DIANA.
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
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part
Against your vain assault.
BERTRAM.
Here, take my ring:
My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,
And I’ll be bid by thee.
DIANA.
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: