Alls Wel that ends Well

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 further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost

syllable of our worthiness.

PAROLLES. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

BERTRAM. But you must not now slumber in it.

PAROLLES. 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 further

from me.

BERTRAM. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it?

PAROLLES. I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the

attempt I vow.

BERTRAM. I know th' art valiant; and, to the of thy soldiership,

will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

PAROLLES. I love not many words. Exit

SECOND LORD. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange

fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this

business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do,

and dares better be damn'd than to do 't.

FIRST LORD. You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is 

that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and for a week

escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out,

you have him ever after.

BERTRAM. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that

so seriously he does address himself unto?

SECOND LORD. None in the world; but return with an invention, and

clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost

emboss'd him. You shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is

not for your lordship's respect.

FIRST LORD. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him.

He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise and

he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you

shall see this very night.

SECOND LORD. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.

BERTRAM. Your brother, he shall go along with me.

SECOND LORD. As't please your lordship. I'll leave you. Exit

BERTRAM. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you

The lass I spoke of.

FIRST LORD. But you say she's honest.

BERTRAM. That's all the fault. I spoke with her but once, 

And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,

By this same coxcomb that we have i' th' wind,

Tokens and letters which she did re-send;

And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature;

Will you go see her?

FIRST LORD. With all my heart, my lord. Exeunt

SCENE 7.

Florence. The WIDOW'S house

Enter HELENA and WIDOW

HELENA. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,

I know not how I shall assure you further

But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

WIDOW. Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born,

Nothing acquainted with these businesses;

And would not put my reputation now

In any staining act.

HELENA. Nor would I wish you.

FIRST give me trust the Count he is my husband,

And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken

Is so from word to word; and then you cannot,

By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,

Err in bestowing it.

WIDOW. I should believe you;

For you have show'd me that which well approves

Y'are great in fortune.

HELENA. Take this purse of gold, 

And let me buy your friendly help thus far,

Which I will over-pay and pay again

When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter

Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,

Resolv'd to carry her. Let her in fine consent,

As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.

Now his important blood will nought deny

That she'll demand. A ring the County wears

That downward hath succeeded in his house

From son to son some four or five descents

Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds

In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire,

To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,

Howe'er repented after.

WIDOW. Now I see

The bottom of your purpose.

HELENA. You see it lawful then. It is no more

But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,

Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;

In fine, delivers me to fill the time, 

Herself most chastely absent. After this,

To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns

To what is pass'd already.

WIDOW. I have yielded.

Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,

That time and place with this deceit so lawful

May prove coherent. Every night he comes

With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd

To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us

To chide him from our eaves, for he persists

As if his life lay on 't.

HELENA. Why then to-night

Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,

Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,

And lawful meaning in a lawful act;

Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact.

But let's about it. Exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.

Without the Florentine camp

Enter SECOND FRENCH LORD with five or six other SOLDIERS in ambush

SECOND LORD. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner.

When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will;

though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must

not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we

must produce for an interpreter.

FIRST SOLDIER. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter.

SECOND LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice?

FIRST SOLDIER. No, sir, I warrant you.

SECOND LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again?

FIRST SOLDIER. E'en such as you speak to me.

SECOND LORD. He must think us some band of strangers i' th'

adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all

neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of

his own fancy; not to know what we speak one to another, so we

seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language,

gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must 

seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two

hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

Enter PAROLLES

PAROLLES. Ten o'clock. Within these three hours 'twill be time

enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a

very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me;

and disgraces have of late knock'd to often at my door. I find my

tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars

before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my

tongue.

SECOND LORD. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was

guilty of.

PAROLLES. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery

of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and

knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and

say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it.

They will say 'Came you off with so little?' And great ones I

dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put 

you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another of

Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

SECOND LORD. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that

he is?

PAROLLES. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn,

or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

SECOND LORD. We cannot afford you so.

PAROLLES. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in

stratagem.

SECOND LORD. 'Twould not do.

PAROLLES. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripp'd.

SECOND LORD. Hardly serve.

PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel-

SECOND LORD. How deep?

PAROLLES. Thirty fathom.

SECOND LORD. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

PAROLLES. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I

recover'd it.

SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. [Alarum within]

PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's! 

SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.

[They blindfold him]

FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos thromuldo boskos.

PAROLLES. I know you are the Muskos' regiment,

And I shall lose my life for want of language.

If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch,

Italian, or French, let him speak to me;

I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos vauvado. I understand thee, and can speak thy

tongue. Kerely-bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for

seventeen poniards are at thy bosom.

PAROLLES. O!

FIRST SOLDIER. O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.

SECOND LORD. Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

FIRST SOLDIER. The General is content to spare thee yet;

And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on

To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform

Something to save thy life. 

PAROLLES. O, let me live,

And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,

Their force, their purposes. Nay, I'll speak that

Which you will wonder at.

FIRST SOLDIER. But wilt thou faithfully?

PAROLLES. If I do not, damn me.

FIRST SOLDIER. Acordo linta.

Come on; thou art granted space.

Exit, PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within

SECOND LORD. Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother

We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled

Till we do hear from them.

SECOND SOLDIER. Captain, I will.

SECOND LORD. 'A will betray us all unto ourselves-

Inform on that.

SECOND SOLDIER. So I will, sir.

SECOND LORD. Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd.

Exeunt

SCENE 2.

Florence. The WIDOW'S house

Enter BERTRAM and DIANA

BERTRAM. They told me that your name was Fontibell.

DIANA. No, my good lord, Diana.

BERTRAM. Titled goddess;

And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,

In your fine frame hath love no quality?

If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,

You are no maiden, but a monument;

When you are dead, you should be such a one

As you are now, for you are cold and stern;

And now you should be as your mother was

When your sweet self was got.

DIANA. She then was honest.

BERTRAM. So should you be.

DIANA. No.

My mother did but duty; such, my lord,

As you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM. No more o'that! 

I prithee do not strive against my vows.

I was compell'd to her; but I love the

By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever

Do thee all rights of service.

DIANA. Ay, so you serve us

Till we serve you; but when you have our roses

You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,

And mock us with our bareness.

BERTRAM. How have I sworn!

DIANA. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,

But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.

What is not holy, that we swear not by,

But take the High'st to witness. Then, pray you, tell me:

If I should swear by Jove's great attributes

I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths

When I did love you ill? This has no holding,

To swear by him whom I protest to love

That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths

Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd-

At least in my opinion. 

BERTRAM. Change it, change it;

Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy;

And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts

That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,

But give thyself unto my sick desires,

Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever

My love as it begins shall so persever.

DIANA. I see that men make ropes in such a scarre

That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power

To give it from me.

DIANA. Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM. It is an honour 'longing to our house,

Bequeathed down from many ancestors;

Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world

In me to lose.

DIANA. Mine honour's such a ring:

My chastity's the jewel of our house,

Bequeathed down from many ancestors;

Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world 

In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom

Brings in the champion Honour on my part

Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM. Here, take my ring;

My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,

And I'll be bid by thee.

DIANA. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;

I'll order take my mother shall not hear.

Now will I charge you in the band of truth,

When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,

Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:

My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them

When back again this ring shall be deliver'd.

And on your finger in the night I'll put

Another ring, that what in time proceeds

May token to the future our past deeds.

Adieu till then; then fail not. You have won

A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

Exit 

DIANA. For which live long to thank both heaven and me!

You may so in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,

As if she sat in's heart; she says all men

Have the like oaths. He had sworn to marry me

When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him

When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,

Marry that will, I live and die a maid.

Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin

To cozen him that would unjustly win. Exit

SCENE 3.

The Florentine camp

Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS

SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter?

FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something

in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd

almost into another man.

SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off

so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure

of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to

him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly

with you.

SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave

of it.

FIRST LORD. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence,

of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in

the spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring,

and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.

SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, 

what things are we!

FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of

all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain

to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives

against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows

himself.

SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our

unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his

company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own

judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his

presence must be the whip of the other.

SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace.

SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel

higher, or return again into France?

SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether 

of his counsel.

FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal

of his act.

SECOND LORD. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his

house. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand;

which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she

accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature

became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last

breath, and now she sings in heaven.

FIRST LORD. How is this justified?

SECOND LORD. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which

makes her story true even to the point of her death. Her death

itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was

faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place.

FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from

point, to the full arming of the verity.

FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our

losses! 

FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in

tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for

him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample.

SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them

not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd by

our virtues.

Enter a MESSENGER

How now? Where's your master?

SERVANT. 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.

SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were

more than they can commend.

FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness.

Here's his lordship now.

Enter BERTRAM 

How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?

BERTRAM. I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's

length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the

Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd for

her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd my

convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many

nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended

yet.

SECOND LORD. If the business be of any difficulty and this morning

your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

BERTRAM. 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

deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier.

SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th'

stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his

spurs so long. How does he carry himself?

SECOND LORD. 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 confess'd 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' th'

stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd?

BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a?

SECOND LORD. 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.

Enter PAROLLES guarded, and

FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter

BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.

SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa.

FIRST SOLDIER. He calls for the tortures. What will you say without

'em?

PAROLLES. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye

pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.

FIRST SOLDIER. Bosko chimurcho. 

SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco.

FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids you

answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.

PAROLLES. And truly, as I hope to live.

FIRST SOLDIER. 'First demand of him how many horse the Duke is

strong.' What say you to that?

PAROLLES. 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.

FIRST SOLDIER. Shall I set down your answer so?

PAROLLES. Do; I'll take the sacrament on 't, how and which way you

will.

BERTRAM. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, 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 his dagger.

FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword

clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his

apparel neatly. 

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down.

PAROLLES. 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true— 'or

thereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth.

SECOND LORD. He's very near the truth in this.

BERTRAM. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it.

PAROLLES. 'Poor rogues' I pray you say.

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down.

PAROLLES. I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth-the rogues are

marvellous poor.

FIRST SOLDIER. 'Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.'

What say you to that?

PAROLLES. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I

will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty;

Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian,

Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own

company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each; so

that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not

to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the

snow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves to

pieces. 

BERTRAM. What shall be done to him?

SECOND LORD. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my

condition, and what credit I have with the Duke.

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. 'You shall demand of him

whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what his

reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, expertness

in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with

well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt.' What say

you to this? What do you know of it?

PAROLLES. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the

inter'gatories. Demand them singly.

FIRST SOLDIER. Do you know this Captain Dumain?

PAROLLES. I know him: 'a was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from

whence he was whipt for getting the shrieve's fool with child-a

dumb innocent that could not say him nay.

BERTRAM. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his

brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.

FIRST SOLDIER. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's

camp?

PAROLLES. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. 

SECOND LORD. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your

lordship anon.

FIRST SOLDIER. What is his reputation with the Duke?

PAROLLES. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of

mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band.

I think I have his letter in my pocket.

FIRST SOLDIER. Marry, we'll search.

PAROLLES. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it

is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent.

FIRST SOLDIER. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you?

PAROLLES. I do not know if it be it or no.

BERTRAM. Our interpreter does it well.

SECOND LORD. Excellently.

FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] 'Dian, the Count's a fool, and full of

gold.'

PAROLLES. 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 Rousillon, a foolish idle

boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up

again. 

FIRST SOLDIER. Nay, I'll read it first by your favour.

PAROLLES. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf

of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and

lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all

the fry it finds.

BERTRAM. Damnable both-sides rogue!

FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads]

'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;

After he scores, he never pays the score.

Half won is match well made; match, and well make it;

He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before.

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 whipt through the army with this rhyme in's

forehead.

FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold 

linguist, and the amnipotent 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' th'

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 answer'd 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 'em 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.

SECOND 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 soldier-ship

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.

SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd 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 cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his

salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all 

remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me?

FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?

PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' 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