And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, With all my heart, my lord. SCENE VII.-Florence. A Room in the born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses; In any staining act. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; 50, Wid. I should believe you; For you have show'd me that, which well approves Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Wid. Now I see Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, Wid. Why then, to-night (1) i. e. By discovering herself to the count. SCENE I-Without the Florentine camp. En- 1 Lord. He can come no other way but by this 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. Even such as you speak to me. 1 Lord. He must think us some band of stran Enter Parolles. Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill 1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own got them in exploit: Yet slight ones will not carry 1 Lord. Is it possible he should know what he 1 Lord. We cannot afford you so. it was in stratagem. 1 Lord. 'Twould not do. [Aside. and to say, [Aside. Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. 1 Lord. Hardly serve. [Aside (5) i. e. Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. 1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. Par. A drum now of the enemy's! [Aside. No more of that! I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows:1 Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's;I was compell'd to her: but I love thee I would swear I recovered it. 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. Ber. How have I sworn? Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the truth; [Aside. Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment, So I will, sir. 2 Sold. 1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Florence. A room in the Widow's house. Enter Bertram and Diana. Ber. They told me, that your name was Fon- Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. Dia. She then was honest. (1) i. e. Against his determined resolution never to cohabit with Helena. But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, Change it, change it; Dia. I see that men make hopes in such affairs, Dia. 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' the 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, mine honour, yea, my life be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my cham- Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When back again this ring shall be deliver❜d: (2) The sense is--we never swear by what is not holy, but take to witness the Highest, the Divinity. You may so in the end. My mother told me just how he would woo, [Exit Marry 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. 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. 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 confirmed 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 acquired for him, shall at home be encountered 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 whipped them not; and our 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the ever-crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd lasting displeasure of the king, who had even by our virtues.——— tuned 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; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. 1 Lord. Now, God 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 abhorred ends; so he, that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself.2 1 Lord. Is it not meant damnables in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? 2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. 1 Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly have him see his company4 anatomized; that he might take a measure of his own judgments, 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. 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? 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. 1 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 Jaques le grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished: and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan 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 despatched 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, mourned 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. Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter: But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier?Come, bring forth this counterfeit module ; he has deceived 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 so long. How does he carry nimself? 1 Lord. I have told your lordship already; the stocks carry him. But, to answer you as you would be understood; he weeps, like a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confessed 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 confessed? Ber. Nothing of me, has he? 2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face: if your lordship be in't, as, I be (4) For companion. (5) Model, pattern. (6) An allusion to the degradation of a knight by hacking off his spurs. 247 lieve you are, you must have the patience to not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to hear it. Re-enter Soldiers, with Parolles. 1 Lord. Hoodman comes!-Porto tartarossa. cular of the intergatories: Demand them singly. Par. I will confess what I know without con-that could not say him, nay. more. 1 Sold. Bosko chimurcho. 2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 1 Sold. You are a merciful general:-Our 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? [Dumain lifts up his hand in anger. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know, his brains are forfeit to the next title that falls. rence's camp? Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. Par. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my repu-to tation and credit, and as I hope to live. 1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? Par. Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! 1 Lord. You are deceived, 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 chape2 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 ture he delivers it. Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke? poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day, Par. The duke knows him for no other but a 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 it to you? Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no. 1 Sold. Dian. The count's a fool, and full of Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count ||ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again. 1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. na-honest in the behalf of the maid: for I knew the Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy; who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds. 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 afoot. What say you to that? Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue! 1 Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; won, is match well made; match, and well After he scores, he never pays the score: make it ;7 Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this pre-Half sent hour, I will tell true. Let me see : hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus Spurio a so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodo-And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this, He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before; wick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each: mine Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss: own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks,3 lest they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. What shall be done to him. 1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the duke. Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with manifold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, we shall be fain to hang you. 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. You shall demand of him, whether one captain Dumain be the camp. a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the duke, what his valour, honesty, and ex-afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I Par. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am pertness in wars; or whether he thinks, it were would repent out the remainder of nature: let me (1) Theory. (2) The point of the scabbard. (5) For interrogatories. live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live. So, look about you; Know you any here? 2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles. 1 Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this captain Dump: You have answered 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; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus.2 He 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them, of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'd compel such volubility, that you would think truth were ait of you; but fare you well. [Exe. Ber. Lords, &c. fool: drunkenuess is his best virtue; for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. 1 Lord. I begin to love him for this. Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he is more and more a cat. 1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,—to belie him, I will not,--and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there call'd Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain. 1 Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far that the rarity redeems him. Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still. 1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt. Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu3 he will sell the feesimple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. 1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain? 2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 1 Sold What's he? Par. E'ena crow of the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward. yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: In a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp. you 1 Sold. If your life be saved, will undertake to betra the Florentine? Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rousillon. 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. 1 Sold. You are undone, captain: all but your scarf, that has a knot on't yet. Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot? 1 Sold. If you could find out a country where Par. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, [Exit. SCENE IV-Florence. A room in the Widow's house. Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana. Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Hel. Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love; doubt not, but Heaven Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to be-As it hath fated her to be my motives guile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I run into this danger: Yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken ? [Aide 1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you, that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me see my death! 1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave (1) i. e. He will steal any thing however trifling, from any place however holy. (2) The Centaur killed by Hercules. (3) The fourth part of the smaller French crown. And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! Dia. Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, |