At least, in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it:

Be not fo 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 defires,

Which then recover. Say, thou art mine; and ever My love, as it begins, fhall fo perfever..

Dia. I fee, that men make hopes in fuch affairs That we'll forfake our felves. 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 greateft obloquy i'th' world
In me to lofe.

Dia. Mine Honour's fuch a ring;
My chastity's the jewel of our Houfe,
Bequeathed down from many Ancestors;
Which were the greateft obloquy i'th' world
In me to lofe. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion Honour on my part,
Against your vain afsault.

Ber. Here, take my ring.

My Houfe, 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 fhall 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 fpeak to me:
My reasons are moft ftrong, and you fhall know them,
When back again this ring fhall 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. 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 fo in the end.

My Mother told me juft how he would woo,

As if the fate in's heart; fhe fays, 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 difguife, I think't no fin

To cozen him, that would unjustly win.


SCENE changes to the French Camp in Florence.

Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.


OU have not given him his Mother's

Y letter?

2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is fomething in't, that ftings his nature; for, on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man.


Since Frenchmen are fo braid,

Marry that will, I'll live and dye a Maid.] This is certainly the moft cruel Refolution, that ever poor Wench made. What! because Frenchmen were falfe, 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 Conclufion; 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 fhort, the Text is, without all Queftion, corrupted; and we should read it thus.

-Since Frenchmen are fo braid,

Marry 'em that will, I'de live and dye a Maid. i. e. fince Frenchmen prove fo crooked and perverfe in their Manners, let who will marry them, I had rather live and die a Maid than venture upon them. This the fays with a view to Helen, who appear'd so fond of her Husband, and went thro' fo many Difficulties to obtain him, Mr. Warburton.

I Lord.

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for fhaking off fo good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

2 Lord. Efpecially, he hath incurred the everlasting difpleasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to fing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you fhall 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 moft chafte 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 unchafte compofition.

I Lord. Now God delay our rebellion; as we are our felves, what things are we!

2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors; and, as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themfelves, 'till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; fo he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility, in his proper ftream o'erflows himself.

i Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us to be the trumpeters of our unlawful intents? we fhall 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 fee his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein fo curiously he had fet 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 affure 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.

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, Sir! so should I be a great deal of his act.

I Lord. Sir, his Wife fome two months fince fled from his House, her pretence is a Pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand; which holy Undertaking, with moft auftere fanctimony, fhe accomplish'd; and there refiding, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now the fings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this juftified?

1 Lord. The ftronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true, even to the point of her death; her Death it self (which could not be her office to fay, is come) was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place.

2 Lord. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.


2 Lord. I am heartily forry, that he'll be glad of

I Lord. How mightily fometimes we make us comforts of our loffes!

2 Lord. And how mightily fome other times we drown our gain in tears! the great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, fhall at home be encounter'd with a fhame as ample.

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them not; and our crimes would defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

Enter a Servant.

How now? where's your Mafter?

Ser. He met the Duke in the fireet, Sir, of whom he hath taken a folemn leave: his Lordship will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King.

2 Lord. They fhall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.


Enter Bertram.

1 Lord. They cannot be too fweet for the King's tartness here's his Lordship now. How now, my Lord, is't not after midnight?

Ber. I have to night difpatch'd fixteen bufineffes, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success; I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neareft; buried a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertain'd my convoy ; and, between thefe main parcels of difpatch, effected many nicer needs: the laft was the greatest, but That I have not ended yet.

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hafte 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 foldier ? come, bring forth this counterfeit module; h'as deceiv'd me, like a doublemeaning prophefier.

2 Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fate in the Stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

Ber. No matter; his heels have deferv'd it, in ufurping his fpurs fo long. How does he carry himself?

1 Lord. I have told your Lordship already: the Stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood, he weeps like a wench that had fhed her milk; he hath confefs'd himfelf to Morgan, whom he fuppofes to be a Friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very inftant difafter of his fetting i'th' Stocks; and what, think you, he hath confeft?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

2 Lord. His confeffion is taken, and it shall be read to his face; if your Lordship belin'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 ay nothing of me; hush! hush!

I Lord.

« 上一页继续 »