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At least, in my opinion.
Ber. Change it, change it:
Dia, I see, that men make hopes in such affairs
Ber. I'll lend it thee, my Dear, but have no power
Dia. Will you not, my Lord ?
Dia. Mine Honour's such a ring;
Ber. Here, take my ring.
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 so in the end.My Mother told me just how he would woo, As if the fate 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 lye with him, When I am buried. (21) Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry 'em that will, I'd live and die a maid l; Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin To cozen him, that would unjustly win.
SCENE changes to the French Camp in
Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. i Lord. 'OU have not given him his Mother's
letter? 2 Lords. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is something in't, that stings his nature: for, on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man.
Since Frenchmen are fo braid, Marry tbat will, I'll live and dye a Maid.] This is cere tainly the most cruel Resolution, that ever poor Wench made. What! because Frenchmen were false, She, that was an Italian, would marry Nobody. But it is plain, as refin'd as this Rea. soning is, her Mother did not understand the Delicacy of the Conclusion ; 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 short, the Text is, without all Question, corrupted; and we should read it thus.
Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry 'em tbat will, I'd live' and dye a Maid. i. e. fince Frenchmen prove so crooked and perverse in their Manners, let who will marry them, I had rather live and die a Maid than venture upon them. This the says with a view to Helen, who appear'd so fond of her Husband, and went thro' so many Difficulties to obtain him.
i Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for Making off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.
2 Lord. Especially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tund his bounty to fing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.
i 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 chaste renown ; and this night 4 he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour ; he hath
given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchalte compofition.
1 Lord. Now God delay our rebellion ; as we are our selves, what things are we!
2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors; and, as in the common course of all treasons, we still fee them reveal themselves, 'till they attain to their abhorr'd ends ; fo he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility, in his proper
stream 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.
i Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein fo curiously he had set this counterfeit.
2 Lord. We will not meddle with him 'till he come; for his presence 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.
2 Lord. What will Count Roufillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France ?
i Lord. I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his Council.
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 since filed from his House, her pretence is a Pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most auftere fantimony, she 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 she sings in heaven.
2 Lord. How is this justified ? 1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true, even to the point of her death; her Death it felf (which could not be her office to say, is come) was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place. .: 2 Lord. Hath the Count all this intelligence ? - I 'Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. 6.2 Lord. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of this.
1 Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses !
2 Lord. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears ! the great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, Mall at home be encounter'd with a shame as ample.
i 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 despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.
Enter a Servant. How now? where's your Master ?
Ser. He met the Duke in the street, Sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his Lordship will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King.
2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.
Enter Betram. i Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the King's -tartness: here's his Lordship now.
How now, my Lord, is't not after midnight?
Ber. I have to night dispatch'd fixteen businesses, a month's length a piece, by, an abstract of suceels , 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 ; e and, between these main parcels of dispatch, effected
many nicer needs : the last 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 halte of your Lordshir.
Ber. I mean, the bufiness, is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue be1 tween the fool and the soldier? come, bring forth this
counterfeit module; h'as deceiv'd me, like a doublee meaning prophesier.
2 Lord. Bring him forth ; h'as fate in the Stocks all night, poor gallant knave.
Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, -in usurp+ ing his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?
i 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 shed her milk; he hath confess'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a Friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'ch' Stocks ; and what, think you, he hath confest ?
Ber. Nothing of me, has he?
2 Lord. His confession is taken, and 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.
Enter Parolles, with his Interpreter. Ber. A plague upon him, muffled! he can say nothing of me; huhhulh!