Comedy plays; Florence (Italy) -- Drama; Married women -- Drama; Runaway husbands -- Drama
Vpon his many protestations to marrie mee when his wife was
dead, I blush to say it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Rossillion
a Widdower, his vowes are forfeited to mee, and my
honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking no
leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Iustice: Grant
it me, O King, in you it best lies, otherwise a seducer flourishes,
and a poore Maid is vndone.
Diana Capilet
Laf. I will buy me a sonne in Law in a faire, and toule
for this. Ile none of him
Kin. The heauens haue thought well on thee Lafew,
To bring forth this discou'rie, seeke these sutors:
Go speedily, and bring againe the Count.
Enter Bertram.
I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)
Was fowly snatcht
Old La. Now iustice on the doers
King. I wonder sir, sir, wiues are monsters to you,
And that you flye them as you sweare them Lordship,
Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?
Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.
Dia. I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,
Deriued from the ancient Capilet,
My suite as I do vnderstand you know,
And therefore know how farre I may be pittied
Wid. I am her Mother sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer vnder this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedie
King. Come hether Count, do you know these Women?
Ber. My Lord, I neither can nor will denie,
But that I know them, do they charge me further?
Dia. Why do you looke so strange vpon your wife?
Ber. She's none of mine my Lord
Dia. If you shall marrie
You giue away this hand, and that is mine,
You giue away heauens vowes, and those are mine:
You giue away my selfe, which is knowne mine:
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you, must marrie me,
Either both or none
Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter,
you are no husband for her
Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature,
Whom sometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes
Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour,
Then for to thinke that I would sinke it heere
Kin. Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend,
Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor,
Then in my thought it lies
Dian. Good my Lord,
Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke
He had not my virginity
Kin. What saist thou to her?
Ber. She's impudent my Lord,
And was a common gamester to the Campe
Dia. He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so,
He might haue bought me at a common price.
Do not beleeue him. O behold this Ring,
Whose high respect and rich validitie
Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that
He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe
If I be one
Coun. He blushes, and 'tis hit:
Of sixe preceding Ancestors that Iemme
Confer'd by testament to'th sequent issue
Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,
That Ring's a thousand proofes
King. Me thought you saide
You saw one heere in Court could witnesse it
Dia. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument, his names Parrolles
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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