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Inter. You are a merciful general: our general bids you anfwer to what I fhall ask you out of a note.

Par. And truly, as I hope to live.

Inter. First, demand of him, how many horse the duke is ftrong. What fay 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.

Inter. Shall I fet down your answer so?

Par. Do, I'll take the facrament on't, how and which way you will: all's one to me.

Ber. What a paft-faving flave is this!

I Lord. Y'are deceiv'd, my lord, this is monfieur Parolles, the gallant militarift (that was his own phrafe) 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 trust a man again for keeping his fword clean, nor believe he can have every thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly.

Inter. Well, that's fet down.

Par. Five or fix thoufand horfe I faid, I will fay true, or thereabouts fet down, for I'll speak truth.

I 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.

Inter. Well, that's fet down.

Par. I humbly thank you, fir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor.

Inter. Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot. What say you to that?

Par. By my troth, fir, if I were to live but this present 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

so that the muster file, rotten and found, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the fnow from off their caffocks, left they shake themselves to pieces. Ber. What fhall be done to him?

I Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my conditions, and what credit I have with the duke.

Inter. 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, honesty, 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.

Inter. Do you know this captain Dumain?

Par. I know him; he was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipp'd 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; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.

Inter. Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy.

I Lord. Nay, look not fo upon me, we shall hear of your lordship anon.

Inter. 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.

Inter. Marry, we'll search.

Par. In good fadness, I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters in my tent. İnter. Here 'tis, here's a paper; fhall I read it to you? Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no.

Ber. Our interpreter does it well.

I Lord. Excellently.

Inter. Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold.

Par.

Par. That is not the duke's letter, fir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count Roufillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for all that, very ruttish. I pray you, fir, put it up again.

Inter. Nay, I'll read it firft, by your favour.

Par. My meaning in't, I proteft, was very honeft in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lafcivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds.

Ber. Damnable! both fides rogue.

Interpreter reads the letter.

When he fwears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it:
After he fcores, he never pays the Score:

Half won is match well made, match well and make it :
He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before.
And fay, a foldier, Dian, told thee this:
Men are to mell with, boys are but to kiss.
For count on 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,

PAROLLE 8.

Ber. He fhall be whip'd through the army with this rhyme in his forehead.

2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, fir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent foldier.

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's

a cat to me.

Inter. I perceive, fir, by the general's looks, we fhall be fain to hang you.

Par. My life, fir, in any cafe; not that I am afraid to die, but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, fir, in a dungeon, i'th' stocks, any where, fo I may live.

Inter. We'll fee 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?

Par. He will steal, fir, 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, fir, with fuch volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his beft virtue, for he will be fwine-drunk; and in his fleep he does little harm, fave to his bedcloths about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in ftraw. I have but little more to say, fir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honeft man should not have; what an honeft man should have, he has nothing.

I Lord. I begin to love him for this.

Ber. For this description of thine honesty? a pox upon for me! he is more and more a cat.

Inter. What fay you to his expertness in war?

him

Par. 'Faith, fir, h'as led the drum before the English tragedians to belie him I will not; and more of his foldiership I know not; except in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there call'd 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.

1 Lord. He hath out-villain'd villany so far that the rarity redeems him.

Ber. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

Inter. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

Par. Sir, for a quart-d'ecu he will fell the fee-fimple of his falvation, the inheritance of it, and cut th'intail from all remainders, and a perpetual fucceffion in it perpetually.

Inter. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain?

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me ?

Inter. What's he?

Par. E'en a crow o'th' fame neft; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his

brother

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.

Inter. If your life be faved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horfe, count Roufillon. Inter. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the fuppofition of that lafcivious young boy the count, have I run into danger: yet who would have fufpected an ambush where I was taken? [afide.

Inter. There is no remedy, fir, but you must die: the general fays, you that have so traiterously discovered the secrets of your army, and made fuch peftiferous reports of men very nobly held, can ferve the world for no honeft ufe; therefore you must die. Come, headfman, off with his head.

Par. O lord, fir, let me live, or let me fee my death.
Inter. That fhall you, and take your leave of all your friends:
[unbinding him.

So, look about you; know you any here?
Ber. Good morrow, noble captain.

2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles.

1 Lord. God fave you, noble captain.

2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu? I am for France.

I Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of that fame fonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the count Roufillon? if I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. [Exeunt. Inter. You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?

Inter. If you could find out a country where but women were that had receiv'd so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, fir, I am for France too; we shall speak of you there.

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