Act IV, Scene ii: Florence. A room in the WIDOW'S house.
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | They told me that your name was Fontibell. | |
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| | DIANA: | |
| | No, my good lord, Diana. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | DIANA: | |
| | She then was honest. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | So should you be. | |
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| | DIANA: | |
| | No: | |
| | My mother did but duty; such, my lord, | |
| | As you owe to your wife. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | No more of that! | |
| | I pr'ythee, 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. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | How have I sworn? | |
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| | 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 Highest 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. | |
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| | 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 recover: say thou art mine, and ever | |
| | My love as it begins shall so persever. | |
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| | DIANA: | |
| | I see that men make hopes in such a case, | |
| | That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power | |
| | To give it from me. | |
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| | DIANA: | |
| | Will you not, my lord? | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | 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' the world | |
| | In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom | |
| | Brings in the champion honour on my part | |
| | Against your vain assault. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | Here, take my ring: | |
| | My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, | |
| | And I'll be bid by thee. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | BERTRAM: | |
| | A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. | |
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| | 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. | |
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