LITMIR.BIZ

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You shall hear one anon.

       PAROLLES.

       A drum now of the enemy’s!

       [Alarum within.]

       FIRST LORD.

       Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

       ALL.

       Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

       PAROLLES.

       O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.

       [They seize and blindfold him.]

       FIRST SOLDIER.

       Boskos thromuldo boskos.

       PAROLLES.

       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.

       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

      

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