They told me that your name was Fontibell

Bertram 
They told me that your name was Fontibell.
Diana 
No, my good lord, Diana.
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.

’Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,
But the plain single vow that is vowed true.

Diana
She then was honest.
Bertram
So should you be.
Diana
No.
My mother did but duty—such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.
Bertram
No more o’ that.
I prithee do not strive against my vows.
I was compelled to her, but I love thee
By love’s own sweet constraint, and will forever
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 vowed true.
What is not holy, that we swear not by,
But take the high’st to witness. Then pray you, tell me,
If I should swear by Jove’s great attributes
I loved 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 unsealed,
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 may rope ’s in such a snare
That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
Bertram
I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.
Diana
Will you not, my lord?
Bertram
It is an honor ’longing to our house,
Bequeathèd down from many ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquy i’ th’ world
In me to lose.
Diana
Mine honor’s such a ring.
My chastity’s the jewel of our house,
Bequeathèd 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 Honor on my part
Against your vain assault.
Bertram
Here, take my ring.
My house, mine honor, yea, my life be thine,
And I’ll be bid by thee.