Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. |
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Enter BERTRAM and DIANA. |
Ber. They told me that your name was Fontibell. |
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. |
Ber. 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. |
Dia. She then was honest. |
Ber. So should you be. |
Dia. No: |
My mother did but duty; such, my lord, |
As you owe to your wife. |
Ber. No more o' that! |
I prithee 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 roses, |
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves |
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 Highest to witness: then, pray you, tell me, |
If I should swear by God'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. |
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. 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. |
Dia. I see that men make ropes in such a scarr |
That we'll forsake ourselves. 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' the 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' the 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, mine 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, though there my hope be done. |
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. [Exit. |
Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven and me! |
You may so in the end. |
My mother told me just how he would woo |
As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men |
Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me |
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him |
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, |
Marry that will, I live and die a maid: |
Only in this disguise I think't no sin |
To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit. |
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