| ACT IV SCENE III | The Florentine camp. | |
| [Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers] |
| First Lord | You have not given him his mother's letter? |
| Second 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. |
| First Lord | He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking | 5 |
| off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. |
| Second 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. | 10 |
| First Lord | When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the |
| grave of it. |
| Second 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 | 15 |
| given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself |
| made in the unchaste composition. |
| First Lord | Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, |
| what things are we! |
| Second Lord | Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course | 20 |
| 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. |
| First Lord | Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of | 25 |
| our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his |
| company to-night? |
| Second Lord | Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. |
| First Lord | That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see |
| his company anatomized, that he might take a measure | 30 |
| of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had |
| set this counterfeit. |
| Second Lord | We will not meddle with him till he come; for his |
| presence must be the whip of the other. |
| First Lord | In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? | 35 |
| Second Lord | I hear there is an overture of peace. |
| First Lord | Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. |
| Second Lord | What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel |
| higher, or return again into France? |
| First Lord | I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether | 40 |
| of his council. |
| Second Lord | Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal |
| of his act. |
| First Lord | Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his |
| house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques | 45 |
| 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. | 50 |
| Second Lord | How is this justified? |
| First 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 | 55 |
| the rector of the place. |
| Second Lord | Hath the count all this intelligence? |
| First Lord | Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from |
| point, so to the full arming of the verity. |
| Second Lord | I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. | 60 |
| First Lord | How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! |
| Second 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. | 65 |
| First 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 Messenger] |
| How now! where's your master? | 70 |
| Servant | 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. |
| Second Lord | They shall be no more than needful there, if they | 75 |
| were more than they can commend. |
| First Lord | They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. |
| Here's his lordship now. |
[Enter BERTRAM] |
| How now, my lord! is't not after midnight? |
| BERTRAM | I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a | 80 |
| month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: |
| I have congied 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 | 85 |
| many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but |
| that I have not ended yet. |
| Second Lord | If the business be of any difficulty, and this |
| morning your departure hence, it requires haste of |
| your lordship. | 90 |
| BERTRAM | 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. | 95 |
| Second Lord | Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, |
| poor gallant knave. |
| BERTRAM | No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping |
| his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? |
| Second Lord | I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry | 100 |
| 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 | 105 |
| stocks: and what think you he hath confessed? |
| BERTRAM | Nothing of me, has a'? |
| Second 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. | 110 |
| [Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier] |
| BERTRAM | A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of |
| me: hush, hush! |
| First Lord | Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa |
| First Soldier | He calls for the tortures: what will you say |
| without 'em? | 115 |
| PAROLLES | I will confess what I know without constraint: if |
| ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. |
| First Soldier | Bosko chimurcho. |
| First Lord | Boblibindo chicurmurco. |
| First Soldier | You are a merciful general. Our general bids you | 120 |
| answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. |
| PAROLLES | And truly, as I hope to live. |
| First Soldier | [Reads] 'First demand of him how many horse the
|
| duke is strong.' What say you to that? |
| PAROLLES | Five or six thousand; but very weak and | 125 |
| unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and |
| the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation |
| and credit and as I hope to live. |
| First Soldier | Shall I set down your answer so? |
| PAROLLES | Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. | 130 |
| BERTRAM | All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! |
| First Lord | You're 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 practise in the chape of | 135 |
| his dagger. |
| Second 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. |
| First Soldier | Well, that's set down. | 140 |
| PAROLLES | Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say |
| true,--or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. |
| First Lord | He's very near the truth in this. |
| BERTRAM | But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he |
| delivers it. | 145 |
| PAROLLES | Poor rogues, I pray you, say. |
| First Soldier | Well, that's set down. |
| PAROLLES | I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the |
| rogues are marvellous poor. |
| First Soldier | [Reads] 'Demand of him, of what strength they are
| 150 |
| a-foot.' What say you to that? |
| PAROLLES | 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, | 155 |
| and Gratii, two hundred and 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; half of the which dare not shake snow from off | 160 |
| their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. |
| BERTRAM | What shall be done to him? |
| First Lord | Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my |
| condition, and what credit I have with the duke. |
| First Soldier | Well, that's set down. | 165 |
[Reads] |
| '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 | 170 |
| corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this? what |
| do you know of it? |
| PAROLLES | I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of |
| the inter'gatories: demand them singly. |
| First Soldier | Do you know this Captain Dumain? | 175 |
| PAROLLES | I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, |
| from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's |
| fool with child,--a dumb innocent, that could not |
| say him nay. |
| BERTRAM | Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know | 180 |
| his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. |
| First Soldier | Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? |
| PAROLLES | Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. |
| First Lord | Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your |
| lordship anon. | 185 |
| First Soldier | What is his reputation with the duke? |
| PAROLLES | 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. |
| First Soldier | Marry, we'll search. | 190 |
| PAROLLES | In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there, |
| or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters |
| in my tent. |
| First Soldier | Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you? |
| PAROLLES | I do not know if it be it or no. | 195 |
| BERTRAM | Our interpreter does it well. |
| First Lord | Excellently. |
| First Soldier | [Reads] 'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,'--
|
| PAROLLES | That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an |
| advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one | 200 |
| 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. |
| First Soldier | Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. |
| PAROLLES | My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the | 205 |
| 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. |
| BERTRAM | Damnable both-sides rogue! |
| First Soldier | [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;
| 210 |
| 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: | 215 |
| 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.' |
| BERTRAM | He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme | 220 |
| in's forehead. |
| Second Lord | This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold |
| linguist and the armipotent soldier. |
| BERTRAM | I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now |
| he's a cat to me. | 225 |
| First Soldier | I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be |
| fain to hang you. |
| PAROLLES | 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, | 230 |
| sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live. |
| First Soldier | 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? | 235 |
| PAROLLES | 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 'em he |
| is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with |
| such volubility, that you would think truth were a | 240 |
| fool: drunkenness 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 | 245 |
| every thing that an honest man should not have; what |
| an honest man should have, he has nothing. |
| First Lord | I begin to love him for this. |
| BERTRAM | For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon |
| him for me, he's more and more a cat. | 250 |
| First Soldier | What say you to his expertness in war? |
| PAROLLES | 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 | 255 |
| called 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. |
| First Lord | He hath out-villained villany so far, that the |
| rarity redeems him. | 260 |
| BERTRAM | A pox on him, he's a cat still. |
| First Soldier | His qualities being at this poor price, I need not |
| to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. |
| PAROLLES | Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple |
| of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the | 265 |
| entail from all remainders, and a perpetual |
| succession for it perpetually. |
| First Soldier | What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? |
| Second Lord | Why does be ask him of me? |
| First Soldier | What's he? | 270 |
| PAROLLES | E'en a crow o' 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 | 275 |
| on he has the cramp. |
| First Soldier | If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray |
| the Florentine? |
| PAROLLES | Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. |
| First Soldier | I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. | 280 |
| PAROLLES | [Aside] I'll no more drumming; a plague of all
|
| drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to |
| beguile 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? | 285 |
| First Soldier | 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 | 290 |
| must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. |
| PAROLLES | O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! |
| First Lord | That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. |
[Unblinding him] |
| So, look about you: know you any here? |
| BERTRAM | Good morrow, noble captain. | 295 |
| Second Lord | God bless you, Captain Parolles. |
| First Lord | God save you, noble captain. |
| Second Lord | Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? |
| I am for France. |
| First Lord | Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet | 300 |
| you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? |
| an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you: |
| but fare you well. |
| [Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords] |
| First Soldier | You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that |
| has a knot on't yet | 305 |
| PAROLLES | Who cannot be crushed with a plot? |
| First Soldier | If you could find out a country where but women were |
| that had received so much shame, you might begin an |
| impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France |
| too: we shall speak of you there. | 310 |
| [Exit with Soldiers] |
| PAROLLES | Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, |
| 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; |
| But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft |
| As captain shall: simply the thing I am |
| Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, | 315 |
| Let him fear this, for it will come to pass |
| that every braggart shall be found an ass. |
| Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live |
| Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! |
| There's place and means for every man alive. | 320 |
| I'll after them. |
| [Exit] |