Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;

I'll order take, my Mother fhall 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 ftrong, and you fhall know them,
When back again this ring fhall 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 paft deeds.
Adieu, 'till then, fail not: you have won
A Wife of me, tho' there my hope be done.
Ber. A heav'n on earth I've won by wooing thee.

[Exit. Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven and

me.

You may fo in the end.

My Mother told me juft how he would woo,
As if fhe fate in's heart; fhe fays, all men
Have the like oaths: he had fworn to marry me,
When his Wife's dead: therefore I'll lie with him,
When I am buried 2. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid;

Only, in this difguife, I think't no fin
To cozen him, that would

unjustly win.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Changes to the French Camp in Florence.

Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.

1 Lord.

U have not given him his Mother's letter?

γου

2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an hour fince; there is fomething in't, that ftings his nature; for, on the reading it, he chang'd almost into another man.

3

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for fhaking off fo good a wife, and fo fweet a lady.

2 Lord. Efpecially he hath incurred the everlasting difpleasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to fing happinets to him. I will tell you a thing, but you fhall let it dwell darkly with you.

1 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 chafte renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the fpoil of her honour; he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchafte compofition.

I Lord. Now God delay our rebellion; as we are ourfelves, what things are we!

2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors; and, as in the common course of all treafons, we ftill fee them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; fo

3

I Lord] The later Editors have with great liberality beftowed lordship upon thefe interlocutors, who, in the original edition, are called, with more propriety, capt. E. and capt. G. It is true that captain E. is in a former fcene called Lord E. but the fubordination in which they

feem to act, and the timorous manner in which they converfe, determines them to be only captains. Yet as the later readers of Shakespeare have been used to find them lords, I have not thought it worth while to degrade them in the margin.

he

he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility, in his proper ftream o'erflows himself.

4

1 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.

1.Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him fee his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein fo curiously he hath fet this counterfeit.

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

1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these Wars?

2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of Peace,

1 Lord. Nay, I affure you, a Peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Roufillon do then? will he travel higher, or return againin to France?

1 Lord. I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of his Council.

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, Sir! fo fhould I be a great deal of his act.

I Lord. Sir, his Wife fome two months fince filed from his House, her pretence is Pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand, which holy Undertaking, with most auftere fanctimony, fhe accomplished; 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 the fings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this juftified?

1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters,

4 In his proper fiream o'erficws Limfelf.] That is, betrays his own fecrets in his own talk. The reply fhews that this is the meaning.

He might take a measure of

his own judgment.] This is a very juft and moral reafon. Bertram, by finding how erroneoufly he has judged, will be less confident, and more eafily moved by admonition.

which

which makes her ftory true, even to the point of her death; her Death itself (which could not be her office to fay, 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.

2 Lord. I am heartily forry, that he'll be glad of this.

1 Lord. How mightily fometimes we make us com. forts of our loffes!

2 Lord. And how mightily fome other times we drown our gain in tears! the great dignity, that his valour hath here acquired for him, fhall at home be encounter'd with a fhame as ample.

1 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 defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

Enter a Servant:

How now? where's your mafter?

Serv. He met the Duke in the street, Sir, of whom he hath taken a folemn leave: his Lordfhip will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King.

2 Lord. They fhall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.

SCENE IV.

Enter Bertram.

I Lord. They cannot be too fweet for the King's tartness; here's his Lordship now.

Lord, is't not after midnight?

How now, my

Ber. I have to-night dispatch'd fixten bufineffes; a

month's

month's length a-piece, by an abftract of fuccefs; 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 difpatch, effected many nicer needs: the laft was the greateft, but that I have not ended yet.

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hafte of your Lordship.

Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But fhall we have this dialogue between the fool and the foldier? come ", bring forth this counterfeit module; h'as deceiv'd me, like a double-meaning prophefier.

2 Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fate in the Stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

Ber. No matter; his heels have deferv'd it, in ufurping his fpurs fo long. How does he carry himfelf?

1 Lord. I have told your Lordship already: the Stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be underflood, he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk; he hath confefs'd himself to Morgan, whom he fuppofes to be a Friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very inftant difafter of his fetting 'th' Stocks; and what, think you, he hath confeft? Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

2 Lord. His confeffion 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.

6

bring forth this counterfeit MODULE This epithet is improper to a module, which profeffes to be the counterfeit of a

nother thing. We fhould read MEDAL. And this the Oxford

Editor follows. WARBURTON.

Module being the patern of any thing, may be here afed in that fenfe. Bring forth this fellow, who, by counterfeit virtue pretended to make himself a pattern.

SCENE