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.
They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than
they can commend.
They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his
How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?
I have to-night despatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length
apiece; by an abstract of success: I have conge'd with the duke,
done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her;
writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and
between these main parcels of despatch effected many nicer needs:
the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.
If the business be of any difficulty and this morning your
departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.
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
deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.
Bring him forth.
Has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.
No matter; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his
spurs so long. How does he carry himself?
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 confessed 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' the stocks: and what
think you he hath confessed?
Nothing of me, has he?
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.
[Re-enter Soldiers, with PAROLLES.]
A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush, hush!
Hoodman comes! Porto tartarossa.
He calls for the tortures: what will you say without 'em?
I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me
like a pasty I can say no more.
You are a merciful general: — Our general bids you answer to what
I shall ask you out of a note.
And truly, as I hope to live.
'First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong.' What say
you to that?
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.
Shall I set down your answer so?
Do; I'll take the sacrament on 't, how and which way you will.
All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!
You are deceived, 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
I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor
believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel
Well, that's set down.
'Five or six thousand horse' I said — I will say true — or
thereabouts, set down, — for I'll speak truth.
He's very near the truth in this.