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    Alls Wel that ends Well

    Page 7
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      Brings in the champion Honour on my part

      Against your vain assault.

      BERTRAM. Here, take my ring;

      My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,

      And I'll be bid by thee.

      DIANA. 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 conquer'd 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 deliver'd.

      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.

      BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

      Exit

      DIANA. 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's 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 live and die a maid.

      Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin

      To cozen him that would unjustly win. Exit

      SCENE 3.

      The Florentine camp

      Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS

      SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter?

      FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something

      in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd

      almost into another man.

      SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off

      so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

      FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure

      of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to

      him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly

      with you.

      SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave

      of it.

      FIRST 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.

      SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves,

      what things are we!

      FIRST 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 abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives

      against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows

      himself.

      SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our

      unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

      FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

      SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his

      company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own

      judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

      FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his

      presence must be the whip of the other.

      SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

      FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace.

      SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

      FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel

      higher, or return again into France?

      SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether

      of his counsel.

      FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal

      of his act.

      SECOND 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

      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 she sings in heaven.

      FIRST LORD. How is this justified?

      SECOND 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.

      FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

      SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from

      point, to the full arming of the verity.

      FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

      SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our

      losses!

      FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in

      tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for

      him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample.

      SECOND 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 despair if they were not cherish'd by

      our virtues.

      Enter a MESSENGER

      How now? Where's your master?

      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 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 dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's

      length apiece; 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 these main parcels of dispatch effected 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.

      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 has

      deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier.

      SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th'

      stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

      BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his

      spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

      SECOND 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 confess'd 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' th'

      stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd?

      BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a?

    &
    nbsp; 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.

      Enter PAROLLES guarded, and

      FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter

      BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.

      SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa.

      FIRST SOLDIER. He calls for the tortures. What will you say without

      'em?

      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.

      SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

      FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids you

      answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.

      PAROLLES. And truly, as I hope to live.

      FIRST SOLDIER. '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 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.

      BERTRAM. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

      SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, 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.

      FIRST 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.

      FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down.

      PAROLLES. 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true— 'or

      thereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth.

      SECOND LORD. He's very near the truth in this.

      BERTRAM. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it.

      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. 'Demand of him of what strength they are 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, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own

      company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred 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 the

      snow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves to

      pieces.

      BERTRAM. What shall be done to him?

      SECOND 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. '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, 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?

      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?

      PAROLLES. I know him: 'a was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from

      whence he was whipt 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 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.

      SECOND LORD. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your

      lordship anon.

      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' th' band.

      I think I have his letter in my pocket.

      FIRST SOLDIER. Marry, we'll search.

      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.

      BERTRAM. Our interpreter does it well.

      SECOND 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 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 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;

      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 vow'd to thee in thine ear,

      PAROLLES.'

      BERTRAM. He shall be whipt through the army with this rhyme in's

      forehead.

      FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold

      linguist, and the amnipotent soldier.

      BERTRAM. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a

      cat to me.

      FIRST SOLDIER. I perceive, sir, by our 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, sir, in a dungeon, i' th'

      stocks, or anywhere, 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 answer'd to

      his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour; what is his

      honesty?

      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 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 kno
    w 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.

      SECOND 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.

      FIRST SOLDIER. What say you to his expertness in war?

      PAROLLES. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English

      tragedians-to belie him I will not-and more of his soldier-ship

      I know not, except in that country he had the honour to be the

      officer at a place there 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.

      SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarity

      redeems him.

      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 cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his

      salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all

      remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

      FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

      FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me?

      FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?

      PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' 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.

      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.

      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?

      FIRST SOLDIER. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die.

      The General says you that have so traitorously discover'd 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 must die. Come, headsman, of with his head.

     


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