The rather, for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself. Hel. Is it yourself? Wid. If you shall please so, Pilgrim. Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. You came, I think, from France. Wid. Hel. I did so. Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours, That has done worthy service. Hel. His name, I pray you. Dia. The Count Rousillon: know you such a one? Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him His face I know not. Dia. Whatsoe'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, Hel. Ay, surely; mere the truth: I know his lady. Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the Count Reports but coarsely of her. Hel. Dia. Monsieur Parolles. What's his name? O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himself, she is too mean I have not heard examin'd. Dia. Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Wid. I write, good creature, wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly this young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. Hel. How do you mean? May be, the amorous Count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Wid. He does, indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard Enter, with drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army, BERTRAM and PAROLLES. Mar. The gods forbid else! That with the plume: 'tis a most a most gallant fel low; I would he lov'd his wife: if he were honester, He were much goodlier: tleman ? Hel. I like him well. - Is't not a handsome gen Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest: Yond's that same knave That leads him to these places; were I his lady I would poison that vile rascal. Hel. Which is he? Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs. Why is he melancholy? Hel. Perchance he's hurt i' th' battle. Par. Lose our drum! well. Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something. Look, he has spied us. Wid. Marry, hang you! Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BER., PAR., Officers, and Soldiers. Wid. The troop is pass'd: Come, Pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host There's four or five, to Hel. of enjoin'd penitents great Saint Jacques bound, I humbly thank you: Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking Shall be for me: and, to requite you farther, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note. Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Camp before Florence. Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords. 1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to 't; let him have his way. 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect. 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble! Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. 2 Lord. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might, at some great and trusty business, in a main danger fail you. Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him. 2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. 1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him: such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him, so that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. 2 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for 't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in 't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PAROLLES. 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand. Ber. How now, Monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. 2 Lord. A pox on 't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! There was excellent command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers ! 2 Lord. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Cæsar himself could not have prevented if he had been there to command. Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum ; but it is not to be recovered. Par. It might have been recovered. Ber. It might, but it is not now. Par. It is to be recovered; but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet. Ber. Why, if you have a stomach to 't, Monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on: I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the Duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what farther becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation, and, by midnight, look to hear farther from me. Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it? Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. Ber. I know thou'rt valiant ; |
