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BERTRAM. No more a’ 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.

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 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.

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 hopes in such a case, That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

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