In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.

Wid. Now I see the bottom of your purpose.

Hel. You see it lawful then. It is no more,
But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter ;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
Herself most chastly absent : after this,
To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is paft already.

Wid. I have yielded :
Instruct my daughter how she fall persevere,
That time and place, with this deceit so lawful,
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With musick of all sorts, and longs compos'd
To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists,
As if his life lay on't.

Hel. Why then, to night
Let us assay our plot; which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed ;
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
Where both not fin, and yet a finful fact.
But let's about it

[Exeunt.

ACT

SCENE, Part of the French Camp ire

Florence. Enter one of the French Lords, with five or fix

Soldiers in ambush.

LOR D.

H Н

E can come no other way but by this hedge-corner; when

you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not your felves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one amongst us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. Sol. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter.

Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he not thy voice Sol. No, Sir, I warrant you.

Lord. But what linsie-woolfie haft thou to speak to us again? Sol. Ev’n such as you speak to me. Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i'th” adversaries' entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy ; not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose : chough's language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politick. But couch, hoa! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

Enter Parolles. Par. Ten o'clock; within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say, I have

done?

done ? it must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoak me, and disgraces have of late knock'd too often at my door; I find, my tongue is too fool-hardy ; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of

[ Afide. Par. What the devil fhould move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give my self some hurts, and say, I got them in exploit ; yet Night ones will not carry it. They will say, came you off with so little ? and great ones I dare not give; wherefore what's the instance ? Tongue, I muft put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy my felf another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

Lord. Is it possible, he should know what he is, and be that he is ?

[Afide. Par. I would, the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. Lord. We cannot afford you so.

[Afide. Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to fay, it was in stratagem. Lord. 'Twould not do.

[Afide. Par. Or to drown my cloaths, and say, I was stript. Lord. Hardly serve.

Afide. Par. Though I swore, I leap'd from the window of the cittadel Lord. How deep ?

[Afide. Par. Thirty fathom.

Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

[Afide. Par. I would, I had any drum of the enemies; I would swear, I recover'd it. Lord. You shall hear one anon.

[Aide. Par. A drum now of the enemies ! [Alarum within. Lord. Throco movoufus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Gargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.

Par. Oh! ransom, ransom: do not hide mine eyes.

[They seize him and blindfold him. Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos.

Par. 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.

Inter. Boskos vauvado; I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue; Keretybonto, - Sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bofom.

Par. Oh!

Int. On, pray, pray, pray.
Mancha revancha dulche.

Lord. Osceoribi dulchos volivorco.

Int. The General is content to spare thee yet,
And, hood-winkt as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee. Haply thou may'st inform
Something to save thy life.

Par. Oh let me live,
And all the secrets of our Camp I'll shew;
Their force, their purposes : nay, I'll speak That
Which you will wonder at.

Int. But wilt thou faithfully?
Par. If I do not, damn me.

Int. Acordo linta.
Come on, thou art granted space.

[Exit.

[Alhort alarum within. Lord. Go, tell the Count Roufillon and my brother, We've caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled 'Till we do hear from them.

Sol. Captain, I will.

Lord. He will betray us all unto our selves,
Inform 'em That.

Sol. So I will, Sir.
Lord. 'Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lockt.

Exeunt.

TH

SCENE changes to the Widow's House

Enter Bertram, and Diana.
HEY 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 honeft.
Ber. So should

you

be.
Dia. No.
My Mother did but duty; fuch, my Lord,
As you owe to your

Wife.
Ber. No more that!
I proythee do not strive against my vows :
I was compellid 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 our selves, 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 High'st to witness: then, pray 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 proteft to love, That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths Are words, and poor conditions but unseald;

At