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    Act 3, Scene V - Page 2

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    But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
    His face I know not.

    DIANA
    Whatsome'er he is,
    He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
    As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
    Against his liking: think you it is so?

    HELENA
    Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.

    DIANA
    There is a gentleman that serves the count
    Reports but coarsely of her.

    HELENA
    What's his name?

    DIANA
    Monsieur Parolles.

    HELENA
    O, I believe with him,
    In argument of praise, or to the worth
    Of the great count himself, she is too mean
    To have her name repeated: all her deserving
    Is a reserved honesty, and that
    I have not heard examined.

    DIANA
    Alas, poor lady!
    'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
    Of a detesting lord.

    Widow
    I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
    Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
    A shrewd turn, if she pleased.

    HELENA
    How do you mean?
    May be the amorous count solicits her
    In the unlawful purpose.

    Widow
    He does indeed;
    And brokes with all that can in such a suit
    Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
    But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard
    In honestest defence.

    MARIANA
    The gods forbid else!

    Widow
    So, now they come:

    Drum and Colours

    Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army

    That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
    That, Escalus.

    HELENA
    Which is the Frenchman?

    DIANA
    He;
    That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.
    I would he loved his wife: if he were honester
    He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?

    HELENA
    I like him well.

    DIANA
    'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave
    That leads him to these places: were I his lady,
    I would Poison that vile rascal.

    HELENA
    Which is he?

    DIANA
    That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?

    HELENA
    Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.

    PAROLLES
    Lose our drum! well.

    MARIANA
    He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.

    Widow

    Marry, hang you!

    MARIANA
    And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

    Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army

    Widow
    The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you
    Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
    There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
    Already at my house.

    HELENA
    I humbly thank you:
    Please it this matron and this gentle maid
    To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking
    Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
    I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
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