SCENE V. Enter Parolles, with his Interpreter. Ber. A plague upon him, muffled! he can fay nothing of me; hufh! huh! 1 Lord. Hoodman comes: Portotaroffa. Inter. He calls for the tortures; what, will you fay without 'em? Par. I will confefs what I know without conftraint; if you pinch me like a pafty, I can fay no more. Interp. Bofko Chimurcho. 2 Lord. Biblibindo chicurmurco. Inter. You are a merciful General. Our General bids you answer to what I fhall afk you out of a note. Pur. And truly, as I hope to live. Inter. First demand of him, how many Horse the Duke is strong. 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 Sacrament on't, how and which way you will: all's one to me. Ber. What a paft-faving flave is this! I 1 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 truft 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 thousand horse I said, (I will fay true) or thereabouts, fet down; for I'll fpeak truth." I Lord. 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, Sir; a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. Inter. Demand of him, of what ftrength they are a-foot. What fay you to that? Par. By my troth, Sir, if I were to live this prefent 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 mufter 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 fhake 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. 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 expertnefs in war; or whether he thinks, it were not poffible with wellweighing fums of gold to corrupt him to a revolt. What fay you to this? what do you know of it? Par. I beseech you, let me anfwer 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 whipt for getting the fheriff's fool with child; a dumb innocent, that could not fay him nay. [Dumain lifts up his hand in anger. Ber. Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; tho' 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 lowfy. 1 Lord. Nay, look not so 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 the file with the Duke's other letters in my tent. Inter. 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. 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 Roufillon, a foolish idle boy; but for all that, very ruttilh. I pray you, Sir, 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. 7 Dian. the Count's a fool, and full of gold. After this line there is apparently a line loft, VOL. III. there being no rhyme that correfponds to gold. Bb. Inter Interpreter reads the letter: When he fwears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it. 8 Half won, is match well made; match, and well make it : * Men are to mell with, boys are but to kifs. Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES. Ber. He fhall be whipt thro' the army with this rhime in his forehead. 2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, Sir, the manifold linguift, and the armi-potent foldier. That is, take his money and leave him to himself. When the players had loft the fecond line, they tried to make a connexion out of the reft. Part is apparently in couplets, and the note was probably uniform. *Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss.] All the Editors have obtruded a new Maxim upon us here, that Boys are not to kifs.]- Livia, in Beaument and Fletcher's Tamer tam'd, is of a quite oppofite Opinion. For Boys were made for Nothing but dry Kiffes. And our Poet's Thought, I am perfuaded, went to the fame Tune. To mell, is derived from the French word, meler, to mingle. THEOBALD. Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. Inter. I perceive, Sir, by the General's looks, we fhall be fain to hang you. Par. My life, Sir, 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, Sir, in a Dungeon, i' th' Stocks, any where, fo I may live. Inter. We'll fee what may be done, so you confefs 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? 9 Par. He will fteal, Sir, an egg out of a cloifter; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Neffus. He profeffes no keeping of oaths; in breaking them he is ftronger than Hercules. He will lye, Sir, with fuch volubility, that you would think, truth were a fool; drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swinedrunk, and in his fleep he does little harm, fave to his bed-cloaths about him; but they know his conditions, and lay him in ftraw. I have but little more to fay, Sir, of his honefty; he has every thing that an honeft man fhould not have; what an honeft man should have, he has nothing. 1 Lord. I begin to love him for this. Ber. For this defcription of thine honesty? a pox upon him for me, he is more and more a cat. Inter. What fay you to his expertnefs in war? Par. Faith, Sir, 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 An egg out of a cloifler.] I know not that clifter, though it may etymologically fignify any thing but, is ufed by our authour, otherwife than for a monastery, and therefore I cannot guess whence this hyperbole could take its original: perhaps it means only this: He will feal any thing, however trifling, from any place, however holy. B b 2 call'd |