William Shakespeare: All's Well That Ends Well

ACT III. SCENE 6. Camp before Florence. (continued)

FIRST LORD.
O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design:
let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

[Enter PAROLLES.]

BERTRAM.
How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.

SECOND LORD.
A pox on 't; let it go; 'tis but a drum.

PAROLLES.
But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost!--There was excellent
command! to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to
rend our own soldiers.

SECOND LORD.
That was not to be blamed in the command of the service; it was a
disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if
he had been there to command.

BERTRAM.
Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we
had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.

PAROLLES.
It might have been recovered.

BERTRAM.
It might, but it is not now.

PAROLLES.
It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom
attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that
drum or another, or hic jacet.

BERTRAM.
Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur, if you think 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 your 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.