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’ the 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? FIRST 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 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? BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has he? 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 Soldiers with Parolles. BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush, hush! FIRST LORD. 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._ FIRST 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! FIRST LORD. 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 his dagger. SECOND 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. FIRST 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.