Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest: Yond's that same knave, That leads him to these places; were I his lady, Hel. Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is he melancholy? Hel. Perchance he's hurt i' the battle. Par. Lose our drum! well. 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hood-wink him, so that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer‡ of the adversaries, when we bring him to our tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem for 't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PARolles. 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand. Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. (drum. 2 Lord. A plague on 't, let it go; 'tis but a Par. But a drum! Is it but a drum? A drum so lost!-There was an excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something. Look, and to rend our own soldiers! he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BER., PAR., Officers, and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents There's four or five, to great Saint Jacques bound, Already at my house. Hel. We'll take your offer kindly. SCENE VI.-Camp before Florence. Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to 't; let him have his way. 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding,+ hold me no more in your respect. 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble! Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promisebreaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him: lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him. * Deals. + A paltry fellow, a coward. The lines, entrenchments. i.e. An epitaph. 2 Lord. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, i he had been there to command. Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. Par. It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet.? Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to 't, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. [take it. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will underBer. But you must not now slumber in it. Par. I'll about it this evening and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, and, by midnight, look to hear further from me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it? Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. Ber. I know thou'rt valiant; Par. I love not many words. [Exit. 1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water.-Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done. 2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this, that so seriously he does address himself unto? 1 Lord. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost emboss'd him;* you shall see his fall to-night: for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect. 2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. [caught. 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. 1 Lord. As 't please your lordship: I'll leave you. [Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and The last I spoke of. [show you 2 Lord. But you say she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, [her, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature; Will you go see her? 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, Hel. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so, from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. Wid. I should believe you; [proves For you have show'd me that which well apY' are great in fortune. Hel. Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay, and pay again, [daughter, When I have found it. The count he woos your Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolves to carry her; let her, in fine, consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it; Now his important; blood will nought deny That she'll demand. A ring the county wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house, From son to son, some four or five descents Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire, To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. Wid. Now I see the bottom of your purpose. Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, To emboss a deer, is to inclose him in a wood. + Before we strip him naked. Importunate. ? Count. Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; Instruct my daughter how she shall persever. Act Fourth. SCENE I.-Without the Florentine Camp. Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in ambush. 1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice? 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to us again? 1 Sold. E'en such as you speak to me. 1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know is to know straight our purpose: chough's language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, hoa! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. Enter PAROLLES. Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me: and disgraces have of late knock'd too often at my door. I find my tongue is too fool-hardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. [Aside. Par. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum; being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it: they will say, Came you off with so little? and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what's the instance?** Tongue, I must i.e, Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. A bird like a jackdaw. ** The proof. put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. 1 Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? [Aside. Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. 1 Lord. We cannot afford you so. [Aside. Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem. 1 Lord. 'Twould not do. [Aside. Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripp'd. 1 Lord. Hardly serve. [Aside. Par. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel 1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. [Aside. Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I recover'd it. 1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. Par. A drum now of the enemy's! [Aside. [Alarum within. 1 Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. [eyes. Par. O! ransom, ransom: do not hide mine [They seize him and blindfold him. 1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. I will discover that which shall undo Come on, thou art granted space. [Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. 1 Lord. Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother, [muffled We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him Till we do hear from them. 2 Sold. Captain, I will. I pr'ythee do not strive against my vows: Ber. [truth; Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the 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 Ber. Dia. I see that men make ropes in such affairs, That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no To give it from me. [power 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' the world In me to lose. 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' the world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion honour on my part, Against your vain assault. Dia. Ber. Here, take my ring: Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my 1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves;- I'll order take my mother shall not hear. Inform 'em that. 2 Sold. So I will, sir. 1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him safely lock'd. SCENE II. dark, and [Exeunt. Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. Enter BERTRAM and DIANA. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: A wife of me, though there my hope be done. Ber. They told me that your name was Fon- Adieu, till then; then, fail not: You have won tibell. SCENE III.-The Florentine Camp. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers. 1 Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter? 2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in 't that stings his nature; for, on the reading it, he changed almost into another man. 1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady. 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall 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 most chaste renown; he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. 1 Lord. Now, Heaven delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves what things are we! 2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he, that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. 1 Lord. Is it not meant confoundedly in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? 2 Lord. Not till after midnight. of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. 2 Lord. How is this justified? 1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters; which makes her story true, even to the point of her death: her death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place. 2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence? 1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. 2 Lord. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. 1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses! 2 Lord. And how mightily, some other times, we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encount'red with a shame 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 whipp'd them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. Enter a Servant. How now? where's your master? Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave; his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king. 2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter BERTRAM. 1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now. How now, my lord, is 't not after midnight? Ber. I have to-night despatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success; I have conge'd with the duke; done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife; mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and, between these main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. 1 Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company+ anatomiz'd, Ber. I mean the business is not ended, as that he might take a measure of his own judg-fearing to hear of it hereafter: But shall we have ments wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. [these wars? 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of 2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. 1 Lord. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France? 1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. 2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great deal of his act. 1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jacques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplish'd: and there residing, the tenderness this dialogue between the fool and the soldier?Come, bring forth this counterfeit module, ‡ he has deceiv'd me, like a double-meaning prophesier. 2 Lord. Bring him forth: [Exeunt Soldiers.] he has sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his spurs 2 so long. How does he carry himself? 1 Lord. I have told your lordship already; the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood,-he weeps: he hath confess'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'the stocks: And what think you he hath confess'd? Ber. Nothing of me, has he? 2 Lord. His confession is taken, an it shall be read to his face: if your lordship be in 't, as I An allusion to the degradation of a knight by hacking off his spurs. believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it. Re-enter Soldiers, with PAROLLES. Ber. A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush! hush! 1 Lord. Hoodman comes! Porto tartarossa. 1 Sold. He calls for the tortures; What will you say without 'em? Par. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no 1 Sold. Bosko chimurcho. [more. Our 2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 1 Sold. You are a merciful general: general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live. 1 Sold. "First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong." What say you to that? Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak, and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. 1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? Par. Do; I'll take my oath on 't, how and which way you will. [slave is this! Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving 1 Lord. You are deceiv'd, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, (that was his own phrase,) that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger. 2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have every thing in him, by wearing his apparel neatly. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, I will say true, or thereabouts, set down,-for I'll speak truth. 1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. Ber. But I con him no thanks for 't, in the nature he delivers it. Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. Par. I humbly thank you, sir; a truth's a truth; the rogues are marvellous poor. 1 Sold. "Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot." What say you to that? Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many; Guiltan, Cosmo, Lodowic, and Gratti, two hundred fifty each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each; so that the muster file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks,+ lest they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. What shall be done to him? 1 Led. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the duke. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. "You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the duke, what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt." What say you to this? what do you know of it? * The point of the scabbard. Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the interrogatories. Demand them simply. 1 Sold. Do you know this Captain Dumain? Par. I know him: he was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipp'd for ill [DUM. lifts up his hand in anger. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. [Florence's camp? conduct. 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. 1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon. 1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke? Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket. 1 Sold. Marry, we'll search. Par. In good sadness, I do not know; either it 1 Sold. Here 't is; here's a paper. Shall I 1 Sold. [Reads.] "Dian. The count's a fool, and full of gold,"— Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy. I pray you, sir, put it up again. 1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. Par. My meaning in 't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid: for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy. Ber. Abominable, both sides rogue! 1 Sold. [take it; "When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; He ne'er pays after debts, take it before; 2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. 1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by our general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you. Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die: but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. 1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain. You have answer'd to his reputation with the duke, and to his valour: what is his honesty? Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em, he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think + Cassock then signified a horseman's loose truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue; coat. + Disposition and character. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty : he has every thing that an honest man should not |