Ber.
They 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 honest.

Ber.
So should you be.

Dia.
No.
My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.

Ber.
No more o' 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.

Dia.
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.* ^note

Ber.
How have I sworn!

Dia.
'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth;
But the plain single vow.† ^note








Therefore your oaths
Are words, and poor conditions but unseal'd;
At least, in my opinion.

Ber.
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.
Say thou art mine; and ever
My love, as it begins, shall so persevere.

Dia.
Give me that ring, then.

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

Dia.
Will you not, my lord?

Ber.
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.

Dia.
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.

Ber.
Here, take my ring.
My house, my honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.

Dia.
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.

Ber.
A heav'n on earth I've won by wooing thee. [Exit.

Dia.
My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she fate in's heart; she says, all men
Have the like oaths.
Since Frenchmen are so loose,
Marry 'em that will, I'll live and die a maid;
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win.* ^note [Exit.

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