Par. O! ransom, ransom: do not hide mine eyes 1 Sol. Boskos thromuldo boskos.

Par. I know you are the Mosko's 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 will discover that which shall undo

The Florentine.

1 Sol. Boskos vaurado:

I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue :—
All. Kerelybonto :-

1 Sol. Betake thee to thy faith; for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.

Par. O!

1 Sol. O, pray, pray, pray,

Manka revania dulche?

Dum. Oscorbi dulchos volivorca.

1 Sol. The general is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on, To gather from thee.-Haply. thou may'st inform Something to save thy life.

Par. 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.

1 Sol. But wilt thou faithfully?

Par. If I do not, damn me.

1 Sol. Acordo linta?—

Come on, thou art granted space. [Drum beats without, L. [Exeunt Paroles, and five of the Soldiers, L. Dum. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled, "Till we do hear from them.

2 Sol. Captain, I will.

[Crosses, R.

Dum. He will betray us all unto ourselves:

Inform 'em that.

2 Sol. So I will, sir.

Dum. 'Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.

[Exeunt Dumain, L. Soldier, R.

SCENE VI.-Florence.--A Room in the Widow's House. Stage light.

Enter DIANA and BERTRAM, L.

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 of 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 barrenness.

Ber. How have I sworn!

[Crosses to L.

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth;

But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true :

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 :

Say, thou art mine; and ever

My love shall persevere, as it begins.

Dia. I see that men make hopes, in such affairs, 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 chamberwindow;

I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.

Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
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 falls out,
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've won, by wooing thee.
[Exit Bertram, R.
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 his heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths :-

Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid :
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.

[Exit. ..

SCENE VII.-Tuscany. -Stage partly dark.-The Florentine Camp.

Enter DUMAIN and LEWIS.

Dum. You have not given him his mother's letter? Lew. I have deliver'd it, and there is something in t that stings his nature; for, on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man.

Dum. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

Lew. Especially he hath incurr'd 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 with you.

Dum. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

Lew. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he triumphs in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

Dum. We shall not then have his company to-night? Lew. Yes, yes, till midnight.

Dum. That approaches apace.

Lew. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? Dum. I hear, there is a peace concluded.

Lew. What will count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France?

Dum. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house; her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jacques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most 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.

Lew. How is this justified?

Dum. 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. Lew. Hath the count all this intelligence?

Dum. I think, not yet: I learn'd it from a widow here in Florence, who-Here comes his lorship.

Enter BERTRAM, R.-Crosses to c. Sweet lord, prepare; the braggart is detected: he hath prov'd himself what he is, and lies here in our hands.

Ber. I have to-night despatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length apiece, by an abstract of success: Í have conge'd with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; writ to my lady mother, from whom I have receiv'd letters, that I am returning; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs: the last was the greatest; but that I have not ended yet. Dum. 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 module. He has deceiv'd me, like a double-meaning prophesier. How does he carry himself? Lew. He hath confess'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant: And what, think you, he hath confess'd?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

Dum. His confession is taken, and, if you please, it shall be read to his face: if your lordship be in't, as I believe, you are, you must have the patience to hear it.

Ber. A plague upon him!-Muffled !-He can say nothing of me.-Hush! hush!

Enter the six Soldiers, bringing in PAROLES blindfolded, R. Dum. Hoodman comes.-Porto torturossa.

1 Sol. He calls for the tortures: What will you say without 'em? [Dumain gives the Soldier a paper. Par. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

1 Sol. Bosko chimurcho.

2 Sol. Boblebindo chicurmurco.

1 Sol. You are a merciful general.-Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live.

1 Sol. How many horse is the duke of Florence strong? -What say you to that?

Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scatter'd, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live.

Ber. What a slave is this!

1 Sol. Well, that's set down.

Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, or thereabouts, set down ;-for I'll speak truth. Poor rogues, I pray you, say.

1 Sol. Well, that's set down.

Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor.

1 Sol. Of what strength are they a-foot?

Par. By my troth, sir, I will tell true. Let me see: the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.