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BERTRAM. I have tonight despatch’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, entertained my convoy, and between these main parcels of despatch 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’ 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?

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