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I Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of thefe wars?

2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. I Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Roufillon 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 St Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most austere fanctimony, she accomplish'd; and there refiding, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now the sings in heaven.

2 Lord. How is this justified ?

I 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 ? I Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

2 Lord. I am heartily forry that he'll be glad of this. I Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses !

2 Lord. And how mightily fome other times we drown our gain in tears! the great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him, shall at home be encounter'd 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 fervant.

How now? where's your master?

Ser. He met the Duke in the street, Sir, of whom he hath taken a folemn 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.

SCENE IV. 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 dispatch'd fixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of fuccefs; I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neareft; buried a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy: and, between these main parcels of dispatch, 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 hafte to 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 foldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit medal; h'as deceiv'd me, like a doublemeaning prophefier.

2 Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

Ber. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in ufurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

I 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 confefs'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance, to this very instant disafter of his setting i' th' stocks; and what, think you, he hath confefs'd?

Ber. Nothing of me, has he?

2 Lord. His confeffion 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.

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Enter Parolles, with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague upon him, muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush! hush !

1 Lord. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa.

Int. He calls for the tortures; what will you fay without 'em?

Par. I will confefs what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

Int. Bofko chimurcho.

2. Lord. Biblibindo chicurmurco.

Int. You are a merciful General: our General bids

you anfwer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live.

Int. First demand of him how many horfe the Duke is strong. What say you to that?

Par. Five or fix thousand, but very weak and unferviceable. The troops are all scatter'd, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live.

Int. Shall I fet down your answer so?

Par. Do; I'll take the facrament on't, how and which way you will: all 's one to me.

Ber. What a past-faving flave is this !

1 Lord. Y' are deceiv'd, my Lord; this is Monfieur Parolles, the gallant militarift, that was his own phrafe, that had the whole theory of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger.

2 Lord. I will never truft a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have every thing in him, by wearing his apparel neatly.

Int. Well, that's fet down.

Par. Five or fix thousand horfe I faid (I will fay true) or thereabouts, fet down, for I'll fpeak 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.
Int. Well, that's fet down.
VOL. III.

F

Par. I humbly thank you, Sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor.

Int. Demand of him of what strength they are afoot. What say you to that?

Par. By my troth, Sir, if I were to live this prefent hour, I will tell true. Let me fee; Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cofmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: fo that the mufter-file, rotten and found, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cafsocks, left they shake themselves to pieces.

Ber. What shall be done to him?

Lord. Nothing; but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the Duke.

Int. Well, that's fet down. You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a^ Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, and expertness in war; 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 interrogatories, Demand them singly. Int. 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 getting the sheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay.

Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.

Int. Well, is this Captain in the Duke of Florence's camp?

Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lowsy.

1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me, we shall hear of your Lordship anon.

Int. 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 the other day, to turn

him out o' th' band. I think I have his letter in my pocket.

Int. Marry, we'll search.

Par. In good fadness, I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon the file with the Duke's other letters in my tent.

Int. Here 'tis, here's a paper, shall I read it to you? Par. I do not know if it be it or no.

Ber. Our interpreter does it well.

1 Lord. Excellently.

Int. 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 Roufillon, a foolish idle boy; but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, Sir, put it up again.

Int. Nay, I'll read it first by your favour. Par. My meaning in 't, I protest, was very honeft in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lafcivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.

Ber. Damnable! both fides rogue.

Interpreter reads the letter.

When he fwears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it.
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.
And say, a foldier (Dian) told thee this :
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss.
For, count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it ;
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it..

Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,

PAROLLES.

Ber. He shall be whipp'd through the army with this rhime in his forehead.

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, Sir; the manifold linguist, and the armipotent foldier.

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me.

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