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Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I recovered it.

1st Lord. You shall hear one anon. [Aside. Par. A drum now of the enemy's!

[Alarum within. 1st Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All. Cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. Par. O! ransom, ransom!-do not hide mine eyes. [They seize him, and blindfold him. 1st Sol. Boskos thromuldo boskos. Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment, And I shall lose my life for want of language: If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I will discover that which shall undo The Florentine.

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1st Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves :— Inform 'em that.

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SCENE II.-Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.

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I pr'y thee do not strive against my vows.

I was compelled to her; but I love thee

By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service.

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Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness.

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But the plain single vow that is vowed 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
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.

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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,

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My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine, And I'll be bid by thee.

Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;

I'll order take my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquered my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know
them

When back again this ring shall be delivered:
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that what in time proceeds
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by woo-
ing thee.
[Exit.

Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven
and me!

You may so in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in his heart: she says all men
Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
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. [Exit.

SCENE III.-The Florentine Camp. Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.

1st Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter?

2nd 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.

1st Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

2nd Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

1st Lord. When you have spoken it 't is dead, and I am the grave of it.

2nd 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.

1st Lord. Now God delay our rebellion; as we are ourselves, what things are we!

2nd 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.

1st Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

2nd Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

1st Lord. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomised; that he might take a measure of his own judg ments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

2nd Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of

the other.

1st Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

2nd Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. 1st Lord. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded.

2nd Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France? 1st Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.

2nd Lord. Let it be forbid, sir! so should I be a great deal of his act.

1st 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.

2nd Lord. How is this justified?

1st 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.

2nd Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence? 1st Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.

2nd Lord. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

1st Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our losses!

2nd 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.

1st 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 cherished 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.

2nd Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.

Enter BERTRAM.

1st 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 congé'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 dispatch, effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

2nd 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.

2nd 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?

1st 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?

2nd 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!

2nd Lord. Hoodman comes! Porto tartarossa. 1st Sol. 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 more.

1st Sol. Bosko chimurcho.

2nd Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

1st Sol. 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.

1st Sol. "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.

1st Sol. 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. slave is this!

What a past-saving

1st 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 chape of his dagger.

2nd Lord. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly.

1st Sol. 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.

1st 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.

1st Sol. Well, that 's set down.

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

1st Sol. "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, Ludowic, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the musterfile, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll: half of which dare not shake the snow from off their cossacks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.

Ber. What shall be done to him?

1st Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks.— Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the Duke.

1st Sol. 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?

Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the intergatories: demand them singly. 1st Sol. Do you know this Captain Dumain? Par. 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.

1st Sol. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp?

Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. 1st Lord. Nay, look not so upon me: we shall hear of your lordship anon.

1st Sol. 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.

1st Sol. Marry, we'll search.

Par. In good sadness I do not know: either it is there, or it is upon a file, with the Dukes other letters, in my tent.

1st Sol. Here 't is; 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.
1st Lord. Excellently.

1st Sol. "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, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again. 1st Sol. 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; who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.

Ber. Damable, both-sides rogue!
1st Soldier reads.

"When he swears 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 soldier, 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 vowed to thee in thine ear,

PAROLLES." Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme in his forehead.

2nd Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier. Ber. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me.

1st Sol. I perceive, sir, by the 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.

1st Sol. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain. 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. He professes not keeping of oaths: in breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie,

sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swine-drunk, and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes 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 everything that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

1st 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. 1st Sol. 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 called Mile-end, to instruct for the

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doubling of files. I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

1st Lord. He hath out-villained villainy so

far, that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

1st Sol. 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'écu 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.

1st Sol. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

2nd Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 1st Sol. What's he?

Par. E'en a 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.

1st Sol. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon.

1st Sol. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.

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