1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for fhaking off fo good a wife, and fo fweet a lady. 2 Lord. Efpecially, he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to fing 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 chafte 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 unchafte compofition. 1 Lord. Now God delay our rebellion; as we are our felves, what things are we! 2 Lord. Meerly our own traitors; and, as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themfelves, 'till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he, that in this action contrives against his own Nobility, in his proper ftream o'erflows himself. i Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us to be the trumpeters of our unlawful intents? we fhall 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 fee his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own Judgment, wherein fo curiously he had fet this counterfeit. 2 Lord. We will not meddle with him 'till he come; for his prefence 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. I Lord. Nay, I affure you, a Peace concluded. 2 Lord. What will Count Refillon 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. 2 Lord. Let it be forbid, Sir! fo fhould I be a great Ideal of his act. I Lord. Sir, his Wife fome two months fince fled from his House, her pretence is a Pilgrimage to St. Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking, with most auftere fanctimony, the accomplish'd; 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 the fings in heaven. 2 Lord. How is this juftified? 1 Lord. The ftronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her ftory true, even to the point of her death; her Death it self (which could not be her office to fay, 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 fometimes we make us comforts of our loffes ! 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, fhall at home be encounter'd with a fhame 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 whipt them not; and our crimes would defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. Enter a Servant. How now? where's your Master ? Ser. He met the Duke in the ftreet, Sir, of whom he hath taken a folemn leave: his Lordfhip will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King. 2 Lord. They fhall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. Enter Enter Betram. I Lord. They cannot be too fweet for the King's tartnefs: here's his Lordship now. How now, my Lord, is't not after midnight? Ber. I have to night difpatch'd fixteen bufineffes, a 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, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; entertain'd my convoy; and, between thefe main parcels of dispatch, effected many nicer needs: the laft was the greatest, but That I have not ended yet. 2 Lord. If the bufinefs be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires hafte of your Lordship. Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But fhall we have this dialogue between the fool and the foldier ? come, bring forth this counterfeit module; h'as deceiv'd me, like a doublemeaning prophefier. a Lord. Bring him forth; h'as fate in the Stocks all night, poor gallant knave. Ber. No matter; his heels have deferv'd it, in ufurping his fpurs fo long. How does he carry himself? 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 fhed her milk; he hath confefs'd himself to Morgan, whom he fuppofes to be a Friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very inftant difafter of his fetting i'th' Stocks; and what, think you, he hath confest ? Ber. Nothing of me, has he? 2 Lord. His confeffion is taken, and it fhall be read to his face; if your Lordship be in't, as, I believe, you are, you must have the patience to hear it. Enter Parolles, with his Interpreter. Ber. A plague upon him, muffled! he can fay nothing of me; hush! hush! 1 Lord. 1 Lord. Hoodman comes: Portotartaroffa. Int. He calls for the tortures; what, will you fay without 'em? Par. I will confess what I know without constraint; if you pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. Int. Bosko Chimurcho. 2 Lord. Biblibindo chicurmurco. Int. You are a merciful General: our General bids you answer to what I fhall ask you out of a note. Par. And truly, as I hope to live. Int. First demand of him, how many Horse the Duke is ftrong. 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 set down your answer so ? Par. Do, I'll take the Sacrament on't, how and which way you will: all's one to me. Ber. What a past-saving slave is this! 1 Lord. Y'are deceiv'd, my Lord, this is Monfieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, that was his own phrase, 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 fword 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 speak 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, fay. Int. Well, that's fet down. 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 a-foot. What say you to that? Par. By my troth, Sir, if I were to live this prefent hour, hour, I will tell true. Let me fee; Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebaftian fo many, Corambus fo many, Jaques fo 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 mustard file, rotten and found, upon my life amounts not to teen thoufand Poll; half of the which dare not shake the fnow from off their caflocks, left they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. What fhall 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. Int. Well, that's fet down. You fhall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honefty, and expertness in war; or whether he thinks, it were not poffible with well-weighing fums 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 fingly." Int. Do you know this Captain Dumain? Par. I know him; he was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the Sheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not fay him nay. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; tho' 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 lowfie. 1 Lord. Nay, look not fo 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 fearch. |