SCENE 1. Paris. A room in the King's palace.
I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away.
There's honour in the theft.
Commit it, count.
I am your accessary; and so farewell.
I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.
Sweet Monsieur Parolles!
Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and
lustrous, a word, good metals.--You shall find in the regiment of
the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of
war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword
entrenched it: say to him I live; and observe his reports for me.
We shall, noble captain.
Mars dote on you for his novices!
What will ye do?
Stay; the king--
Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have
restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more
expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the
time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the
influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead
the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more
And I will do so.
Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.
[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES.]
Pardon, my lord [kneeling], for me and for my tidings.