The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

DIANA. She then was honest.

BERTRAM. So should you be.

DIANA. No.

My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM. No more o’that!

I prithee do not strive against my vows.

I was compell’d to her; but I love the By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service.

DIANA. 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.

BERTRAM. How have I sworn!

DIANA. ‘Tis not the many oaths that makes 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 you, 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 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.

BERTRAM. 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 recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever.

DIANA. I see that men make ropes in such a scarre That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM. I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me.

DIANA. Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM. It is an honour ‘longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors;

Which were the greatest obloquy i’ th’ world In me to lose.

DIANA. 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’ th’ world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion Honour on my part Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM. Here, take my ring;

My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I’ll be bid by thee.

DIANA. 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.

BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

Exit

DIANA. 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

ACT IV. SCENE 3.

The Florentine camp

Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS

SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother’s letter?

FIRST LORD. I have deliv’red it an hour since. There is something in’t that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang’d almost into another man.

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

FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred 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.

SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, ‘tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

FIRST LORD. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste 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 unchaste composition.

SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we!

FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorr’d ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o’erflows himself.

SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company tonight?

FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz’d, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other.

SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace.

SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France?

SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his counsel.

FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of his act.

SECOND LORD. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques 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.

FIRST LORD. How is this justified?

SECOND LORD. 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.

FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this.

SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir’d for him shall at home be encount’red with a shame as ample.

SECOND 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 MESSENGER

How now? Where’s your master?

SERVANT. 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.

SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.

FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the King’s tartness.

Here’s his lordship now.

Enter BERTRAM

How now, my lord, is’t not after midnight?

BERTRAM. I have tonight dispatch’d sixteen businesses, a month’s length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn’d for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain’d my convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

SECOND LORD. If the business be of any difficulty and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

BERTRAM. 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 has deceiv’d me like a double-meaning prophesier.

SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i’ th’

stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv’d it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

SECOND 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’ th’

stocks. And what think you he hath confess’d?

BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has ‘a?

SECOND 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 guarded, and FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.

SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa.

FIRST SOLDIER. He calls for the tortures. What will you say without ‘em?

PAROLLES. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

FIRST SOLDIER. Bosko chimurcho.

SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.

PAROLLES. And truly, as I hope to live.

FIRST SOLDIER. ‘First demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong.’ What say you to that?

PAROLLES. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable.

The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live.

FIRST SOLDIER. Shall I set down your answer so?

PAROLLES. Do; I’ll take the sacrament on ‘t, how and which way you will.

BERTRAM. All’s one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

SECOND LORD. Y’are deceiv’d, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist-that was his own phrase-that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger.

FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly.

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that’s set down.

PAROLLES. ‘Five or six thousand horse’ I said-I will say true- ‘or thereabouts’ set down, for I’ll speak truth.

SECOND LORD. He’s very near the truth in this.

BERTRAM. But I con him no thanks for’t in the nature he delivers it.

PAROLLES. ‘Poor rogues’ I pray you say.

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that’s set down.

PAROLLES. I humbly thank you, sir. A truth’s a truth-the rogues are marvellous poor.

FIRST SOLDIER. ‘Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.’

What say you to that?

PAROLLES. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two