LITMIR.BIZ

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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 whipped through the army with this rhyme in his forehead.

       SECOND LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the armipotent 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’ the 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 answered 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 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.

       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.

       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 soldiership 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.

       FIRST LORD. He hath out-villanied 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 quart d’ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the 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 he ask him of me?

       FIRST SOLDIER.

       What’s he?

       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 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 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 must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.

       PAROLLES.

       O Lord! sir, let me live, or let me see my death.

       FIRST SOLDIER.

       That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.

       [Unmuffling him.]

       So look about you; know you any here?

       BERTRAM.

       Good morrow, noble captain.

       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 you writ to

       Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? an I were not a very

       coward I’d compel it of you; but fare you well.

       [Exeunt BERTRAM, Lords, &c.]

       FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, captain: all but your scarf; that has a knot on’t yet.

       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.

       [Exit.]

       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,

       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.

       I’ll after them.

       [Exit.]

      SCENE 4. Florence. A room in the Widow’s house.

       [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA.]

       HELENA.

       That you may well perceive I have not wrong’d you!

       One of the greatest in the Christian world

       Shall be my surety; ‘fore whose throne ‘tis needful,

       Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel:

       Time was I did him a desired office,

       Dear almost as his life; which gratitude

       Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peep forth,

       And answer, thanks: I duly am informed

       His grace is at Marseilles; to which place

       We have convenient convoy. You must know

       I am supposed dead: the army breaking,

      

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