Dia. You shall not need to fear me. Enter HELENA, in the dress of a Pilgrim. Wid. I hope so.-Look, here comes a pilgrim; Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs: Why is I know she will lie at my house: thither they he melancholy? God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound? Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Ay, marry, is it.-Iark you;| Hel. Is it yourself? Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, Hel. His name, I pray you. Dia. The count Rousillon; Know you such a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly His face I know not. [of him; Whatsoe'er he is, Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle. Mar. He's shrewdly vex'd at something: Look, he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy for a ring-carrier! Wid. The troop is past: Come, pilgrim. I will Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents Hel. I humbly thank you: Both. SCENE VI. Camp before Florence. Dia. 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hild Dia. Monsieur Parolles. O, I believe with him, I have not heard examin'd. Alas, poor lady! Wid. He does, indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of 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. [to try him. Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action 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 hoodwink 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 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the in In honestest defence. telligence in his power against you, and that with the devine forfeit of his soul upon oath, Enter, with Drum and Colours, a party of the Flo-never trust my judgment in any thing. rentine Army, BERTRAM, and PABOLLES. Mar. The gods forbid else! Hel. Dia. Which is the Frenchman? He; That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow; That leads him to these places; were I his lady, 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter let him fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem fort: 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. not the humour of his design; let him fetch off 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder his drum in any hand. Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost!-There was an excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers. 2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented, if 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 hie 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. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. [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 art valiant; and to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. 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; damns himself to do, and dares better be damn'd than to do't. 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 embossed him, you shall see his fall to-night; for, indeed, he is not for your lordship's respect. 2 Lord. We will make you some sport with the fox, ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafen: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me. 1 Lord. As't please your lordship: I'll leave yon. (Exit. Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and The lass I spoke of. [show you 2 Lord. Bat you say she's honest. Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i'the wind, SCENE VII. Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well And would not put my reputation now Hel. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; Wid. And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken, Hel. Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty. Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds The bottom of your purpose. Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more, Wid. I have yielded: Hel. Why then, to-night Act Fourth. [Exeunt. 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 And I shall lose my life for want of language: you understand it not yourselves, no matter; If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, for we must not seem to understand him; unless Italian, or French, let him speak to me, some one among us, whom we must produce I will discover that which shall undo for an interpreter. The Florentine. 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 Sold. Boskos vauvado : I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue:- Petake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards 1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to Are at thy bosom. speak to us again? 1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me. 1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers '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 politick. But couch, oh! 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 knocked too] often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; 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 c'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 put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's mute, 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. Oh! Par. 1 Lord. O pray, pray, pray. Oscorbi dulchos volivorca. Pur. Par. If I do not, damn me. Acordo linta. Ber. So should you be. Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say, was My mother did but duty; such, my lord, stripped. 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 recovered it. 1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. [Aside. Par. A drum now of the enemy's! [Alarum within. 1 Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, villianda, par corbo, cargo. Par. O! ransom, ransom :-Do not hide mine [They seize him and blindfold him. eves. 1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. As you owe to your wife. No more of that! But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true. If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, When I did love you ill? this has no holding, Change it, change it; Din. I see, that men make hopes, 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. 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: When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: [Exit. 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. 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. 1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable 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 this hour. 1 Lord. That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see his company anatomized; that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 2 Lord. We will not medale 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 bo 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 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 truc, 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 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 2 Lord. Especially he hath incurred the ever-whom he hath taken a solemn leave; his lordlasting displeasure of the king, who had even ship will next morning for France. The duke tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I hath offered him letters of commendations to will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell the king. darkly with you. [and I am the grave of it. 1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, 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? will say true.-or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. 1 Lord. Ile's very near the truth in this. Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the busi-nature he delivers it. Ber. I have to-night dispatched sixteen nesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have conge'd with the duke, done iny 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 deeds; 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. 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; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to Ber. What shall be done to him? [pieces. 1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the duke. 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-half of which dare not shake the snow from off 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 deserved it, in usurping his spurs 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 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 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 1 Sold. Bosko chimurcho. [say no more. 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? | 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 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? Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the intergatories: Demand them singly. 1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain? Pur. I know him: he was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff's fool with child: a dumb innocent, that could not say him, nay. [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 tile that falls. 1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? 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 1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read [gold. Pur. 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 the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. [slave is this. Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving 1 Sold. Dian. The Count's a fool, and full of 1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord; this is Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir; that monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist (that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Flowas his own phrase), that had the whole theo-rence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurerick of war in the knot of his scarf, and the ment of one count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, practice in the chape of his dagger. but for all that, very ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again. 2 Lord. I will never trust a man again fer keeping his sword clean; nor believing he can have every thing in him, by wearing his apparel 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. [neatly. 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 Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said.--I the young count to be a dangerous and lascivi |