ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Dramatis Personae

KING OF FRANCE

THE DUKE OF FLORENCE

BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon

LAFEU, an old lord

PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram

TWO FRENCH LORDS, serving with Bertram

STEWARD, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon

LAVACHE, a clown and Servant to the Countess of Rousillon

A PAGE, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram

HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess

A WIDOW OF FLORENCE.

DIANA, daughter to the Widow

VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow

MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the Widow

Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine 

SCENE:

Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles

ACT I.

SCENE 1.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in blackCOUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.BERTRAM. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew;but I must attend his Majesty's command, to whom I am now inward, evermore in subjection.LAFEU. You shall find of the King a husband, madam; you, sir, afather. He that so generally is at all times good must ofnecessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir itup where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is suchabundance.COUNTESS. What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment?LAFEU. He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whosepractices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no otheradvantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.COUNTESS. This young gentlewoman had a father— O, that 'had,' howsad a passage 'tis!-whose skill was almost as great as hishonesty; had it stretch'd so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, forthe King's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death ofthe King's disease.LAFEU. How call'd you the man you speak of, madam?COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was hisgreat right to be so— Gerard de Narbon.LAFEU. He was excellent indeed, madam; the King very lately spokeof him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to haveliv'd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.BERTRAM. What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of?LAFEU. A fistula, my lord.BERTRAM. I heard not of it before.LAFEU. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman thedaughter of Gerard de Narbon?COUNTESS. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to myoverlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her educationpromises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair giftsfairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities,there commendations go with pity-they are virtues and traitorstoo. In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.LAFEU. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.COUNTESS. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in.The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but thetyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. Nomore of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thoughtyou affect a sorrow than to have-HELENA. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.LAFEU. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead: excessivegrief the enemy to the living.COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes itsoon mortal.BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.LAFEU. How understand we that?COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy fatherIn manners, as in shape! Thy blood and virtueContend for empire in thee, and thy goodnessShare with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemyRather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key; be check'd for silence,But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord,'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,Advise him.LAFEU. He cannot want the bestThat shall attend his love.COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. ExitBERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts beservants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother, yourmistress, and make much of her.LAFEU. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of yourfather. Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEUHELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father;And these great tears grace his remembrance moreThan those I shed for him. What was he like?I have forgot him; my imaginationCarries no favour in't but Bertram's.I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. 'Twere all oneThat I should love a bright particular starAnd think to wed it, he is so above me.In his bright radiance and collateral lightMust I be comforted, not in his sphere.Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself:The hind that would be mated by the lionMust die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,To see him every hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,In our heart's table-heart too capableOf every line and trick of his sweet favour.But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancyMust sanctify his relics. Who comes here?Enter PAROLLES[Aside] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake;And yet I know him a notorious liar,Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in himThat they take place when virtue's steely bonesLooks bleak i' th' cold wind; withal, full oft we seeCold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen!HELENA. And you, monarch!PAROLLES. No.HELENA. And no.PAROLLES. Are you meditating on virginity?HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you aquestion. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado itagainst him?PAROLLES. Keep him out.HELENA. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in thedefence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.PAROLLES. There is none. Man, setting down before you, willundermine you and blow you up.HELENA. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up!Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselvesmade, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealthof nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rationalincrease; and there was never virgin got till virginity was firstlost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginityby being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, itis ever lost. 'Tis too cold a companion; away with't.HELENA. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die avirgin.PAROLLES. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the ruleof nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse yourmothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangshimself is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should beburied in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperateoffendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like acheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies withfeeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud,idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in thecanon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't.Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse. Awaywith't.HELENA. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?PAROLLES. Let me see. Marry, ill to like him that ne'er it likes.'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept,the less worth. Off with't while 'tis vendible; answer the timeof request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out offashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch andthe toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in yourpie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity,your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears: itlooks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it wasformerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will youanything with it?HELENA. Not my virginity yet.There shall your master have a thousand loves,A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility,His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,His faith, his sweet disaster; with a worldOf pretty, fond, adoptious christendomsThat blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-I know not what he shall. God send him well!The court's a learning-place, and he is one-PAROLLES. What one, i' faith?HELENA. That I wish well. 'Tis pity-PAROLLES. What's pity?HELENA. That wishing well had not a body in'tWhich might be felt; that we, the poorer born,Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,Might with effects of them follow our friendsAnd show what we alone must think, which neverReturns us thanks.Enter PAGEPAGE. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Exit PAGE PAROLLES. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I willthink of thee at court.HELENA. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.PAROLLES. Under Mars, I.HELENA. I especially think, under Mars.PAROLLES. Why under Man?HELENA. The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be bornunder Mars.PAROLLES. When he was predominant.HELENA. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.PAROLLES. Why think you so?HELENA. You go so much backward when you fight.PAROLLES. That's for advantage.HELENA. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but thecomposition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue ofa good wing, and I like the wear well.PAROLLES. I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely. Iwill return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shallserve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier'scounsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makesthee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers;when thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a goodhusband and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell.ExitHELENA. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated skyGives us free scope; only doth backward pullOur slow designs when we ourselves are dull.What power is it which mounts my love so high,That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?The mightiest space in fortune nature bringsTo join like likes, and kiss like native things.Impossible be strange attempts to thoseThat weigh their pains in sense, and do supposeWhat hath been cannot be. Who ever stroveTo show her merit that did miss her love?The King's disease-my project may deceive me,But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. Exit

SCENE 2.Paris. The KING'S palaceFlourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters,and divers ATTENDANTSKING. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears;Have fought with equal fortune, and continueA braving war.FIRST LORD. So 'tis reported, sir.KING. Nay, 'tis most credible. We here receive it,A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will move usFor speedy aid; wherein our dearest friendPrejudicates the business, and would seemTo have us make denial.FIRST LORD. His love and wisdom,Approv'd so to your Majesty, may pleadFor amplest credence.KING. He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is denied before he comes;Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leaveTo stand on either part.SECOND LORD. It well may serveA nursery to our gentry, who are sickFor breathing and exploit.KING. What's he comes here?Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLESFIRST LORD. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,Young Bertram.KING. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral partsMayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.BERTRAM. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's.KING. I would I had that corporal soundness now,As when thy father and myself in friendshipFirst tried our soldiership. He did look farInto the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long;But on us both did haggish age steal on,And wore us out of act. It much repairs meTo talk of your good father. In his youthHe had the wit which I can well observeTo-day in our young lords; but they may jestTill their own scorn return to them unnotedEre they can hide their levity in honour.So like a courtier, contempt nor bitternessWere in his pride or sharpness; if they were,His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,Clock to itself, knew the true minute whenException bid him speak, and at this timeHis tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below himHe us'd as creatures of another place;And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,Making them proud of his humilityIn their poor praise he humbled. Such a manMight be a copy to these younger times;Which, followed well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward.BERTRAM. His good remembrance, sir,Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;So in approof lives not his epitaphAs in your royal speech.KING. Would I were with him! He would always say-Methinks I hear him now; his plausive wordsHe scatter'd not in ears, but grafted themTo grow there, and to bear— 'Let me not live'-This his good melancholy oft began,On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,When it was out-'Let me not live' quoth he'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuffOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgments areMere fathers of their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions.' This he wish'd.I, after him, do after him wish too,Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room.SECOND LORD. You're loved, sir;They that least lend it you shall lack you first.KING. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, Count,Since the physician at your father's died?He was much fam'd.BERTRAM. Some six months since, my lord.KING. If he were living, I would try him yet-Lend me an arm-the rest have worn me outWith several applications. Nature and sicknessDebate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count;My son's no dearer.BERTRAM. Thank your Majesty. Exeunt [Flourish]

SCENE 3.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWNCOUNTESS. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?STEWARD. Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wishmight be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then wewound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings,when of ourselves we publish them.COUNTESS. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah. Thecomplaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; 'tis myslowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to committhem and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.CLOWN. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.COUNTESS. Well, sir.CLOWN. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many ofthe rich are damn'd; but if I may have your ladyship's good willto go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.COUNTESS. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?CLOWN. I do beg your good will in this case.COUNTESS. In what case? CLOWN. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no heritage; and Ithink I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o'my body; for they say bames are blessings.COUNTESS. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.CLOWN. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by theflesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.COUNTESS. Is this all your worship's reason?CLOWN. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.COUNTESS. May the world know them?CLOWN. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all fleshand blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent.COUNTESS. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.CLOWN. I am out o' friends, madam, and I hope to have friends formy wife's sake.COUNTESS. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.CLOWN. Y'are shallow, madam-in great friends; for the knaves cometo do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my landspares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop. If I be hiscuckold, he's my drudge. He that comforts my wife is thecherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and bloodis my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If mencould be contented to be what they are, there were no fear inmarriage; for young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam thepapist, howsome'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, theirheads are both one; they may jowl horns together like any deeri' th' herd.COUNTESS. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave?CLOWN. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:For I the ballad will repeat,Which men full true shall find:Your marriage comes by destiny,Your cuckoo sings by kind.COUNTESS. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.STEWARD. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you.Of her I am to speak.COUNTESS. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; HelenI mean. CLOWN. [Sings]'Was this fair face the cause' quoth she'Why the Grecians sacked Troy?Fond done, done fond,Was this King Priam's joy?'With that she sighed as she stood,With that she sighed as she stood,And gave this sentence then:'Among nine bad if one be good,Among nine bad if one be good,There's yet one good in ten.'COUNTESS. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah.CLOWN. One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o' th'song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! We'd findno fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten,quoth 'a! An we might have a good woman born before every blazingstar, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a manmay draw his heart out ere 'a pluck one.COUNTESS. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. CLOWN. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it willwear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart.I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither.ExitCOUNTESS. Well, now.STEWARD. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.COUNTESS. Faith I do. Her father bequeath'd her to me; and sheherself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to asmuch love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid; andmore shall be paid her than she'll demand.STEWARD. Madam, I was very late more near her than I think shewish'd me. Alone she was, and did communicate to herself her ownwords to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, theytouch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved yourson. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put suchdifference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would notextend his might only where qualities were level; Diana no queenof virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surpris'd withoutrescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heardvirgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint youwithal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns yousomething to know it.COUNTESS. YOU have discharg'd this honestly; keep it to yourself.Many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung sotott'ring in the balance that I could neither believe normisdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall this in your bosom; and Ithank you for your honest care. I will speak with you furtheranon. Exit STEWARDEnter HELENAEven so it was with me when I was young.If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thornDoth to our rose of youth rightly belong;Our blood to us, this to our blood is born.It is the show and seal of nature's truth,Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth.By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none.Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.HELENA. What is your pleasure, madam?COUNTESS. You know, Helen,I am a mother to you.HELENA. Mine honourable mistress.COUNTESS. Nay, a mother.Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,'Methought you saw a serpent. What's in 'mother'That you start at it? I say I am your mother,And put you in the catalogue of thoseThat were enwombed mine. 'Tis often seenAdoption strives with nature, and choice breedsA native slip to us from foreign seeds.You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,Yet I express to you a mother's care.God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy bloodTo say I am thy mother? What's the matter,That this distempered messenger of wet,The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? Why, that you are my daughter?HELENA. That I am not.COUNTESS. I say I am your mother.HELENA. Pardon, madam.The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother:I am from humble, he from honoured name;No note upon my parents, his all noble.My master, my dear lord he is; and IHis servant live, and will his vassal die.He must not be my brother.COUNTESS. Nor I your mother?HELENA. You are my mother, madam; would you were-So that my lord your son were not my brother-Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers,I care no more for than I do for heaven,So I were not his sister. Can't no other,But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?COUNTESS. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law.God shield you mean it not! 'daughter' and 'mother'So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness. Now I seeThe myst'ry of your loneliness, and findYour salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis grossYou love my son; invention is asham'd,Against the proclamation of thy passion,To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true;But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeksConfess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyesSee it so grossly shown in thy behavioursThat in their kind they speak it; only sinAnd hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew;If it be not, forswear't; howe'er, I charge thee,As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,To tell me truly.HELENA. Good madam, pardon me.COUNTESS. Do you love my son?HELENA. Your pardon, noble mistress.COUNTESS. Love you my son? HELENA. Do not you love him, madam?COUNTESS. Go not about; my love hath in't a bondWhereof the world takes note. Come, come, discloseThe state of your affection; for your passionsHave to the full appeach'd.HELENA. Then I confess,Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,That before you, and next unto high heaven,I love your son.My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love.Be not offended, for it hurts not himThat he is lov'd of me; I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suit,Nor would I have him till I do deserve him;Yet never know how that desert should be.I know I love in vain, strive against hope;Yet in this captious and intenible sieveI still pour in the waters of my love,And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like,Religious in mine error, I adore The sun that looks upon his worshipperBut knows of him no more. My dearest madam,Let not your hate encounter with my love,For loving where you do; but if yourself,Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,Did ever in so true a flame of likingWish chastely and love dearly that your DianWas both herself and Love; O, then, give pityTo her whose state is such that cannot chooseBut lend and give where she is sure to lose;That seeks not to find that her search implies,But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies!COUNTESS. Had you not lately an intent-speak truly-To go to Paris?HELENA. Madam, I had.COUNTESS. Wherefore? Tell true.HELENA. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.You know my father left me some prescriptionsOf rare and prov'd effects, such as his readingAnd manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd meIn heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,As notes whose faculties inclusive wereMore than they were in note. Amongst the restThere is a remedy, approv'd, set down,To cure the desperate languishings whereofThe King is render'd lost.COUNTESS. This was your motiveFor Paris, was it? Speak.HELENA. My lord your son made me to think of this,Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,Had from the conversation of my thoughtsHaply been absent then.COUNTESS. But think you, Helen,If you should tender your supposed aid,He would receive it? He and his physiciansAre of a mind: he, that they cannot help him;They, that they cannot help. How shall they creditA poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,Embowell'd of their doctrine, have let off The danger to itself?HELENA. There's something in'tMore than my father's skill, which was the great'stOf his profession, that his good receiptShall for my legacy be sanctifiedBy th' luckiest stars in heaven; and, would your honourBut give me leave to try success, I'd ventureThe well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure.By such a day and hour.COUNTESS. Dost thou believe't?HELENA. Ay, madam, knowingly.COUNTESS. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,Means and attendants, and my loving greetingsTo those of mine in court. I'll stay at home,And pray God's blessing into thy attempt.Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. Exeunt

ACT II.

SCENE 1.Paris. The KING'S palaceFlourish of cornets. Enter the KING with divers young LORDS taking leavefor the Florentine war; BERTRAM and PAROLLES; ATTENDANTSKING. Farewell, young lords; these war-like principlesDo not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell;Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,And is enough for both.FIRST LORD. 'Tis our hope, sir,After well-ent'red soldiers, to returnAnd find your Grace in health.KING. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heartWill not confess he owes the maladyThat doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;Whether I live or die, be you the sonsOf worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy-Those bated that inherit but the fallOf the last monarchy-see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; whenThe bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,That fame may cry you aloud. I say farewell.SECOND LORD. Health, at your bidding, serve your Majesty!KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them;They say our French lack language to deny,If they demand; beware of being captivesBefore you serve.BOTH. Our hearts receive your warnings.KING. Farewell. [To ATTENDANTS] Come hither to me.The KING retires attendedFIRST LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!PAROLLES. 'Tis not his fault, the spark.SECOND LORD. O, 'tis brave wars!PAROLLES. Most admirable! I have seen those wars.BERTRAM. I am commanded here and kept a coil with'Too young' and next year' and "Tis too early.'PAROLLES. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely.BERTRAM. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword wornBut one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away.FIRST LORD. There's honour in the theft.PAROLLES. Commit it, Count.SECOND LORD. I am your accessary; and so farewell.BERTRAM. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body.FIRST LORD. Farewell, Captain.SECOND LORD. Sweet Monsieur Parolles!PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks andlustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment ofthe Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem ofwar, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very swordentrench'd it. Say to him I live; and observe his reports for me.FIRST LORD. We shall, noble Captain.PAROLLES. Mars dote on you for his novices! Exeunt LORDSWhat will ye do?Re-enter the KINGBERTRAM. Stay; the King! PAROLLES. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you haverestrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be moreexpressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of thetime; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under theinfluence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil leadthe measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a moredilated farewell.BERTRAM. And I will do so.PAROLLES. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLESEnter LAFEULAFEU. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.KING. I'll fee thee to stand up.LAFEU. Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon.I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy;And that at my bidding you could so stand up.KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate,And ask'd thee mercy for't. LAFEU. Good faith, across!But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cur'dOf your infirmity?KING. No.LAFEU. O, will you eatNo grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you willMy noble grapes, an if my royal foxCould reach them: I have seen a medicineThat's able to breathe life into a stone,Quicken a rock, and make you dance canaryWith spritely fire and motion; whose simple touchIs powerful to araise King Pepin, nay,To give great Charlemain a pen in's handAnd write to her a love-line.KING. What her is this?LAFEU. Why, Doctor She! My lord, there's one arriv'd,If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour,If seriously I may convey my thoughtsIn this my light deliverance, I have spokeWith one that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me moreThan I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her,For that is her demand, and know her business?That done, laugh well at me.KING. Now, good Lafeu,Bring in the admiration, that we with theMay spend our wonder too, or take off thineBy wond'ring how thou took'st it.LAFEU. Nay, I'll fit you,And not be all day neither. Exit LAFEUKING. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.Re-enter LAFEU with HELENALAFEU. Nay, come your ways.KING. This haste hath wings indeed.LAFEU. Nay, come your ways;This is his Majesty; say your mind to him.A traitor you do look like; but such traitorsHis Majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together. Fare you well. ExitKING. Now, fair one, does your business follow us?HELENA. Ay, my good lord.Gerard de Narbon was my father,In what he did profess, well found.KING. I knew him.HELENA. The rather will I spare my praises towards him;Knowing him is enough. On's bed of deathMany receipts he gave me; chiefly one,Which, as the dearest issue of his practice,And of his old experience th' only darling,He bade me store up as a triple eye,Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so:And, hearing your high Majesty is touch'dWith that malignant cause wherein the honourOf my dear father's gift stands chief in power,I come to tender it, and my appliance,With all bound humbleness.KING. We thank you, maiden;But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, andThe congregated college have concludedThat labouring art can never ransom natureFrom her inaidable estate-I say we must notSo stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,To prostitute our past-cure maladyTo empirics; or to dissever soOur great self and our credit to esteemA senseless help, when help past sense we deem.HELENA. My duty then shall pay me for my pains.I will no more enforce mine office on you;Humbly entreating from your royal thoughtsA modest one to bear me back again.KING. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful.Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I giveAs one near death to those that wish him live.But what at full I know, thou know'st no part;I knowing all my peril, thou no art.HELENA. What I can do can do no hurt to try,Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisherOft does them by the weakest minister.So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown,When judges have been babes. Great floods have flownFrom simple sources, and great seas have driedWhen miracles have by the greatest been denied.Oft expectation fails, and most oft thereWhere most it promises; and oft it hitsWhere hope is coldest, and despair most fits.KING. I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid;Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid;Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward.HELENA. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd.It is not so with Him that all things knows,As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows;But most it is presumption in us whenThe help of heaven we count the act of men.Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent;Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim;But know I think, and think I know most sure,My art is not past power nor you past cure.KING. Art thou so confident? Within what spaceHop'st thou my cure?HELENA. The greatest Grace lending grace.Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bringTheir fiery torcher his diurnal ring,Ere twice in murk and occidental dampMoist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp,Or four and twenty times the pilot's glassHath told the thievish minutes how they pass,What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly,Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.KING. Upon thy certainty and confidenceWhat dar'st thou venture?HELENA. Tax of impudence,A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's nameSear'd otherwise; ne worse of worst-extended With vilest torture let my life be ended.KING. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speakHis powerful sound within an organ weak;And what impossibility would slayIn common sense, sense saves another way.Thy life is dear; for all that life can rateWorth name of life in thee hath estimate:Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, allThat happiness and prime can happy call.Thou this to hazard needs must intimateSkill infinite or monstrous desperate.Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,That ministers thine own death if I die.HELENA. If I break time, or flinch in propertyOf what I spoke, unpitied let me die;And well deserv'd. Not helping, death's my fee;But, if I help, what do you promise me?KING. Make thy demand.HELENA. But will you make it even?KING. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. HELENA. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly handWhat husband in thy power I will command.Exempted be from me the arroganceTo choose from forth the royal blood of France,My low and humble name to propagateWith any branch or image of thy state;But such a one, thy vassal, whom I knowIs free for me to ask, thee to bestow.KING. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd,Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd.So make the choice of thy own time, for I,Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely.More should I question thee, and more I must,Though more to know could not be more to trust,From whence thou cam'st, how tended on. But restUnquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest.Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceedAs high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.[Flourish. Exeunt]

SCENE 2.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter COUNTESS and CLOWNCOUNTESS. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of yourbreeding.CLOWN. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know mybusiness is but to the court.COUNTESS. To the court! Why, what place make you special, when youput off that with such contempt? But to the court!CLOWN. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he mayeasily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off'scap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip,nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not forthe court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men.COUNTESS. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions.CLOWN. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks-the pinbuttock, the quatch buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock.COUNTESS. Will your answer serve fit to all questions?CLOWN. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as yourFrench crown for your taffety punk, as Tib's rush for Tom'sforefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for Mayday,as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scoldingquean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar'smouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.COUNTESS. Have you, I, say, an answer of such fitness for allquestions?CLOWN. From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fitany question.COUNTESS. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fitall demands.CLOWN. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned shouldspeak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask meif I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn.COUNTESS. To be young again, if we could, I will be a fool inquestion, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir,are you a courtier?CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-There's a simple putting off. More, more, ahundred of them.COUNTESS. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Thick, thick; spare not me. COUNTESS. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.COUNTESS. You were lately whipp'd, sir, as I think.CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Spare not me.COUNTESS. Do you cry 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and 'sparenot me'? Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very sequent to yourwhipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you werebut bound to't.CLOWN. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I seething's may serve long, but not serve ever.COUNTESS. I play the noble housewife with the time,To entertain it so merrily with a fool.CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Why, there't serves well again.COUNTESS. An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this,And urge her to a present answer back;Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much.CLOWN. Not much commendation to them?COUNTESS. Not much employment for you. You understand me?CLOWN. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs.COUNTESS. Haste you again. Exeunt

SCENE 3.Paris. The KING'S palaceEnter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLESLAFEU. They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophicalpersons to make modern and familiar things supernatural andcauseless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors,ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submitourselves to an unknown fear.PAROLLES. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shotout in our latter times.BERTRAM. And so 'tis.LAFEU. To be relinquish'd of the artists-PAROLLES. So I say-both of Galen and Paracelsus.LAFEU. Of all the learned and authentic fellows-PAROLLES. Right; so I say.LAFEU. That gave him out incurable-PAROLLES. Why, there 'tis; so say I too.LAFEU. Not to be help'd-PAROLLES. Right; as 'twere a man assur'd of a-LAFEU. Uncertain life and sure death. PAROLLES. Just; you say well; so would I have said.LAFEU. I may truly say it is a novelty to the world.PAROLLES. It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shallread it in what-do-ye-call't here.LAFEU. [Reading the ballad title] 'A Showing of a HeavenlyEffect in an Earthly Actor.'PAROLLES. That's it; I would have said the very same.LAFEU. Why, your dolphin is not lustier. 'Fore me, I speak inrespect-PAROLLES. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange; that is the briefand the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinerious spirit thatwill not acknowledge it to be the-LAFEU. Very hand of heaven.PAROLLES. Ay; so I say.LAFEU. In a most weak-PAROLLES. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence;which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alonethe recov'ry of the King, as to be-LAFEU. Generally thankful.Enter KING, HELENA, and ATTENDANTSPAROLLES. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the King.LAFEU. Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I'll like a maid the better,whilst I have a tooth in my head. Why, he's able to lead her acoranto.PAROLLES. Mort du vinaigre! Is not this Helen?LAFEU. 'Fore God, I think so.KING. Go, call before me all the lords in court.Exit an ATTENDANTSit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd senseThou has repeal'd, a second time receiveThe confirmation of my promis'd gift,Which but attends thy naming.Enter three or four LORDSFair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcelOf noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voiceI have to use. Thy frank election make;Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.HELENA. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistressFall, when love please. Marry, to each but one!LAFEU. I'd give bay Curtal and his furnitureMy mouth no more were broken than these boys',And writ as little beard.KING. Peruse them well.Not one of those but had a noble father.HELENA. Gentlemen,Heaven hath through me restor'd the King to health.ALL. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.HELENA. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiestThat I protest I simply am a maid.Please it your Majesty, I have done already.The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me:'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever,We'll ne'er come there again.' KING. Make choice and see:Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.HELENA. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,And to imperial Love, that god most high,Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit?FIRST LORD. And grant it.HELENA. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.LAFEU. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for mylife.HELENA. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,Before I speak, too threat'ningly replies.Love make your fortunes twenty times aboveHer that so wishes, and her humble love!SECOND LORD. No better, if you please.HELENA. My wish receive,Which great Love grant; and so I take my leave.LAFEU. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I'd havethem whipt; or I would send them to th' Turk to make eunuchs of.HELENA. Be not afraid that I your hand should take;I'll never do you wrong for your own sake. Blessing upon your vows; and in your bedFind fairer fortune, if you ever wed!LAFEU. These boys are boys of ice; they'll none have her.Sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em.HELENA. You are too young, too happy, and too good,To make yourself a son out of my blood.FOURTH LORD. Fair one, I think not so.LAFEU. There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk wine-butif thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have knownthee already.HELENA. [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I giveMe and my service, ever whilst I live,Into your guiding power. This is the man.KING. Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife.BERTRAM. My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your Highness,In such a business give me leave to useThe help of mine own eyes.KING. Know'st thou not, Bertram,What she has done for me?BERTRAM. Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her.KING. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed.BERTRAM. But follows it, my lord, to bring me downMust answer for your raising? I know her well:She had her breeding at my father's charge.A poor physician's daughter my wife! DisdainRather corrupt me ever!KING. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the whichI can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,Would quite confound distinction, yet stand offIn differences so mighty. If she beAll that is virtuous-save what thou dislik'st,A poor physician's daughter-thou dislik'stOf virtue for the name; but do not so.From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,The place is dignified by the doer's deed;Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,It is a dropsied honour. Good aloneIs good without a name. Vileness is so: The property by what it is should go,Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;In these to nature she's immediate heir;And these breed honour. That is honour's scornWhich challenges itself as honour's bornAnd is not like the sire. Honours thriveWhen rather from our acts we them deriveThan our fore-goers. The mere word's a slave,Debauch'd on every tomb, on every graveA lying trophy; and as oft is dumbWhere dust and damn'd oblivion is the tombOf honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?If thou canst like this creature as a maid,I can create the rest. Virtue and sheIs her own dower; honour and wealth from me.BERTRAM. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't.KING. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.HELENA. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I'm glad.Let the rest go.KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift,That dost in vile misprision shackle upMy love and her desert; that canst not dreamWe, poising us in her defective scale,Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not knowIt is in us to plant thine honour whereWe please to have it grow. Check thy contempt;Obey our will, which travails in thy good;Believe not thy disdain, but presentlyDo thine own fortunes that obedient rightWhich both thy duty owes and our power claims;Or I will throw thee from my care for everInto the staggers and the careless lapseOf youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hateLoosing upon thee in the name of justice,Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer.BERTRAM. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submitMy fancy to your eyes. When I considerWhat great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she which lateWas in my nobler thoughts most base is nowThe praised of the King; who, so ennobled,Is as 'twere born so.KING. Take her by the hand,And tell her she is thine; to whom I promiseA counterpoise, if not to thy estateA balance more replete.BERTRAM. I take her hand.KING. Good fortune and the favour of the KingSmile upon this contract; whose ceremonyShall seem expedient on the now-born brief,And be perform'd to-night. The solemn feastShall more attend upon the coming space,Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her,Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES who stay behind,commenting of this weddingLAFEU. Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you.PAROLLES. Your pleasure, sir? LAFEU. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.PAROLLES. Recantation! My Lord! my master!LAFEU. Ay; is it not a language I speak?PAROLLES. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloodysucceeding. My master!LAFEU. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon?PAROLLES. To any count; to all counts; to what is man.LAFEU. To what is count's man: count's master is of another style.PAROLLES. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are tooold.LAFEU. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title agecannot bring thee.PAROLLES. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.LAFEU. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wisefellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it mightpass. Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldlydissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. Ihave now found thee; when I lose thee again I care not; yet artthou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou'rt scarceworth. PAROLLES. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee-LAFEU. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thytrial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my goodwindow of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open,for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.PAROLLES. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.LAFEU. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it.PAROLLES. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it.LAFEU. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate theea scruple.PAROLLES. Well, I shall be wiser.LAFEU. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smacko' th' contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf andbeaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. Ihave a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather myknowledge, that I may say in the default 'He is a man I know.'PAROLLES. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.LAFEU. I would it were hell pains for thy sake, and my poor doingeternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motionage will give me leave. Exit PAROLLES. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me:scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; thereis no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I canmeet him with any convenience, an he were double and double alord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of-I'll beat him, and if I could but meet him again.Re-enter LAFEULAFEU. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news foryou; you have a new mistress.PAROLLES. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make somereservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord: whom I serveabove is my master.LAFEU. Who? God?PAROLLES. Ay, sir.LAFEU. The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter upthy arms o' this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do otherservants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nosestands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee. Methink'st thou art a general offence, and every man shouldbeat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathethemselves upon thee.PAROLLES. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.LAFEU. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernelout of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller;you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than thecommission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You arenot worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you.ExitEnter BERTRAMPAROLLES. Good, very, good, it is so then. Good, very good; let itbe conceal'd awhile.BERTRAM. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!PAROLLES. What's the matter, sweetheart?BERTRAM. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,I will not bed her.PAROLLES. What, what, sweetheart? BERTRAM. O my Parolles, they have married me!I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.PAROLLES. France is a dog-hole, and it no more meritsThe tread of a man's foot. To th' wars!BERTRAM. There's letters from my mother; what th' import is I knownot yet.PAROLLES. Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th'wars!He wears his honour in a box unseenThat hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,Spending his manly marrow in her arms,Which should sustain the bound and high curvetOf Mars's fiery steed. To other regions!France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades;Therefore, to th' war!BERTRAM. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house,Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,And wherefore I am fled; write to the KingThat which I durst not speak. His present giftShall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellows strike. War is no strifeTo the dark house and the detested wife.PAROLLES. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure?BERTRAM. Go with me to my chamber and advise me.I'll send her straight away. To-morrowI'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.PAROLLES. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard:A young man married is a man that's marr'd.Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go.The King has done you wrong; but, hush, 'tis so. Exeunt

SCENE 4.Paris. The KING'S palaceEnter HELENA and CLOWNHELENA. My mother greets me kindly; is she well?CLOWN. She is not well, but yet she has her health; she's verymerry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given, she's verywell, and wants nothing i' th' world; but yet she is not well.HELENA. If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not verywell?CLOWN. Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things.HELENA. What two things?CLOWN. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly!The other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly!Enter PAROLLESPAROLLES. Bless you, my fortunate lady!HELENA. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own goodfortunes.PAROLLES. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady?CLOWN. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would shedid as you say.PAROLLES. Why, I say nothing.CLOWN. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakesout his master's undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to knownothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of yourtitle, which is within a very little of nothing.PAROLLES. Away! th'art a knave.CLOWN. You should have said, sir, 'Before a knave th'art a knave';that's 'Before me th'art a knave.' This had been truth, sir.PAROLLES. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee.CLOWN. Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to findme? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you findin you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase oflaughter.PAROLLES. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed.Madam, my lord will go away to-night:A very serious business calls on him.The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge;But puts it off to a compell'd restraint;Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets,Which they distil now in the curbed time,To make the coming hour o'erflow with joyAnd pleasure drown the brim.HELENA. What's his else?PAROLLES. That you will take your instant leave o' th' King,And make this haste as your own good proceeding,Strength'ned with what apology you thinkMay make it probable need.HELENA. What more commands he?PAROLLES. That, having this obtain'd, you presentlyAttend his further pleasure.HELENA. In everything I wait upon his will.PAROLLES. I shall report it so.HELENA. I pray you. Exit PAROLLESCome, sirrah. Exeunt

SCENE 5.Paris. The KING'S palaceEnter LAFEU and BERTRAMLAFEU. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.BERTRAM. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.LAFEU. You have it from his own deliverance.BERTRAM. And by other warranted testimony.LAFEU. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.BERTRAM. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge,and accordingly valiant.LAFEU. I have then sinn'd against his experience and transgress'dagainst his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since Icannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray youmake us friends; I will pursue the amityEnter PAROLLESPAROLLES. [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir.LAFEU. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?PAROLLES. Sir! LAFEU. O, I know him well. Ay, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, avery good tailor.BERTRAM. [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the King?PAROLLES. She is.BERTRAM. Will she away to-night?PAROLLES. As you'll have her.BERTRAM. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,Given order for our horses; and to-night,When I should take possession of the bride,End ere I do begin.LAFEU. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner;but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass athousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten.God save you, Captain.BERTRAM. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?PAROLLES. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord'sdispleasure.LAFEU. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all,like him that leapt into the custard; and out of it you'll runagain, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.LAFEU. And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers.Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me: there can be nokernal in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes;trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of themtame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur; I have spokenbetter of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but wemust do good against evil. ExitPAROLLES. An idle lord, I swear.BERTRAM. I think so.PAROLLES. Why, do you not know him?BERTRAM. Yes, I do know him well; and common speechGives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.Enter HELENAHELENA. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,Spoke with the King, and have procur'd his leaveFor present parting; only he desiresSome private speech with you. BERTRAM. I shall obey his will.You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,Which holds not colour with the time, nor doesThe ministration and required officeOn my particular. Prepar'd I was notFor such a business; therefore am I foundSo much unsettled. This drives me to entreat youThat presently you take your way for home,And rather muse than ask why I entreat you;For my respects are better than they seem,And my appointments have in them a needGreater than shows itself at the first viewTo you that know them not. This to my mother.[Giving a letter]'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; soI leave you to your wisdom.HELENA. Sir, I can nothing sayBut that I am your most obedient servant.BERTRAM. Come, come, no more of that.HELENA. And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out thatWherein toward me my homely stars have fail'dTo equal my great fortune.BERTRAM. Let that go.My haste is very great. Farewell; hie home.HELENA. Pray, sir, your pardon.BERTRAM. Well, what would you say?HELENA. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe,Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is;But, like a timorous thief, most fain would stealWhat law does vouch mine own.BERTRAM. What would you have?HELENA. Something; and scarce so much; nothing, indeed.I would not tell you what I would, my lord.Faith, yes:Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss.BERTRAM. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.HELENA. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.BERTRAM. Where are my other men, monsieur?Farewell! Exit HELENA Go thou toward home, where I will never comeWhilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.Away, and for our flight.PAROLLES. Bravely, coragio! Exeunt

ACT III.

SCENE 1.Florence. The DUKE's palaceFlourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; twoFRENCH LORDS, with a TROOP OF SOLDIERSDUKE. So that, from point to point, now have you hearThe fundamental reasons of this war;Whose great decision hath much blood let forthAnd more thirsts after.FIRST LORD. Holy seems the quarrelUpon your Grace's part; black and fearfulOn the opposer.DUKE. Therefore we marvel much our cousin FranceWould in so just a business shut his bosomAgainst our borrowing prayers.SECOND LORD. Good my lord,The reasons of our state I cannot yield,But like a common and an outward manThat the great figure of a council framesBy self-unable motion; therefore dare notSay what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to failAs often as I guess'd.DUKE. Be it his pleasure.FIRST LORD. But I am sure the younger of our nature,That surfeit on their ease, will day by dayCome here for physic.DUKE. Welcome shall they beAnd all the honours that can fly from usShall on them settle. You know your places well;When better fall, for your avails they fell.To-morrow to th' field. Flourish. Exeunt

SCENE 2.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter COUNTESS and CLOWNCOUNTESS. It hath happen'd all as I would have had it, save that hecomes not along with her.CLOWN. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholyman.COUNTESS. By what observance, I pray you?CLOWN. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff andsing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know aman that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for asong.COUNTESS. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.[Opening a letter]CLOWN. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old lingand our Isbels o' th' country are nothing like your old ling andyour Isbels o' th' court. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out;and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.COUNTESS. What have we here?CLOWN. E'en that you have there. Exit COUNTESS. [Reads] 'I have sent you a daughter-in-law; she hathrecovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not beddedher; and sworn to make the "not" eternal. You shall hear I am runaway; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enoughin the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.Your unfortunate son,BERTRAM.'This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,To fly the favours of so good a king,To pluck his indignation on thy headBy the misprizing of a maid too virtuousFor the contempt of empire.Re-enter CLOWNCLOWN. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiersand my young lady.COUNTESS. What is the -matter?CLOWN. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; yourson will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS. Why should he be kill'd?CLOWN. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does thedanger is in standing to 't; that's the loss of men, though it bethe getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For mypart, I only hear your son was run away. ExitEnter HELENA and the two FRENCH GENTLEMENSECOND GENTLEMAN. Save you, good madam.HELENA. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.FIRST GENTLEMAN. Do not say so.COUNTESS. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen-I have felt so many quirks of joy and griefThat the first face of neither, on the start,Can woman me unto 't. Where is my son, I pray you?FIRST GENTLEMAN. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence.We met him thitherward; for thence we came,And, after some dispatch in hand at court,Thither we bend again.HELENA. Look on this letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads] 'When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, whichnever shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy bodythat I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a "then" Iwrite a "never."This is a dreadful sentence.COUNTESS. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam;And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains.COUNTESS. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer;If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son;But I do wash his name out of my blood,And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam.COUNTESS. And to be a soldier?FIRST GENTLEMAN. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't,The Duke will lay upon him all the honourThat good convenience claims.COUNTESS. Return you thither?SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELENA. [Reads] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.''Tis bitter.COUNTESS. Find you that there?HELENA. Ay, madam.SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, whichhis heart was not consenting to.COUNTESS. Nothing in France until he have no wife!There's nothing here that is too good for himBut only she; and she deserves a lordThat twenty such rude boys might tend upon,And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?SECOND GENTLEMAN. A servant only, and a gentlemanWhich I have sometime known.COUNTESS. Parolles, was it not?SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, my good lady, he.COUNTESS. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.My son corrupts a well-derived natureWith his inducement.SECOND GENTLEMAN. Indeed, good lady,The fellow has a deal of that too much Which holds him much to have.COUNTESS. Y'are welcome, gentlemen.I will entreat you, when you see my son,To tell him that his sword can never winThe honour that he loses. More I'll entreat youWritten to bear along.FIRST GENTLEMAN. We serve you, madam,In that and all your worthiest affairs.COUNTESS. Not so, but as we change our courtesies.Will you draw near? Exeunt COUNTESS and GENTLEMENHELENA. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'Nothing in France until he has no wife!Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in FranceThen hast thou all again. Poor lord! is'tThat chase thee from thy country, and exposeThose tender limbs of thine to the eventOf the non-sparing war? And is it IThat drive thee from the sportive court, where thouWast shot at with fair eyes, to be the markOf smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire,Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air,That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;Whoever charges on his forward breast,I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;And though I kill him not, I am the causeHis death was so effected. Better 'twereI met the ravin lion when he roar'dWith sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twereThat all the miseries which nature owesWere mine at once. No; come thou home, Rousillon,Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,As oft it loses all. I will be gone.My being here it is that holds thee hence.Shall I stay here to do 't? No, no, althoughThe air of paradise did fan the house,And angels offic'd all. I will be gone,That pitiful rumour may report my flightTo consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day. For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. Exit

SCENE 3.Florence. Before the DUKE's palaceFlourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, SOLDIERS,drum and trumpetsDUKE. The General of our Horse thou art; and we,Great in our hope, lay our best love and credenceUpon thy promising fortune.BERTRAM. Sir, it isA charge too heavy for my strength; but yetWe'll strive to bear it for your worthy sakeTo th' extreme edge of hazard.DUKE. Then go thou forth;And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,As thy auspicious mistress!BERTRAM. This very day,Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proveA lover of thy drum, hater of love. Exeunt

SCENE 4.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter COUNTESS and STEWARDCOUNTESS. Alas! and would you take the letter of her?Might you not know she would do as she has doneBy sending me a letter? Read it again.STEWARD. [Reads] 'I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone.Ambitious love hath so in me offendedThat barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,With sainted vow my faults to have amended.Write, write, that from the bloody course of warMy dearest master, your dear son, may hie.Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from farHis name with zealous fervour sanctify.His taken labours bid him me forgive;I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forthFrom courtly friends, with camping foes to live,Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth.He is too good and fair for death and me;Whom I myself embrace to set him free.' COUNTESS. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so muchAs letting her pass so; had I spoke with her,I could have well diverted her intents,Which thus she hath prevented.STEWARD. Pardon me, madam;If I had given you this at over-night,She might have been o'er ta'en; and yet she writesPursuit would be but vain.COUNTESS. What angel shallBless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive,Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hearAnd loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrathOf greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,To this unworthy husband of his wife;Let every word weigh heavy of her worthThat he does weigh too light. My greatest grief,Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.Dispatch the most convenient messenger.When haply he shall hear that she is gone He will return; and hope I may that she,Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,Led hither by pure love. Which of them bothIs dearest to me I have no skill in senseTo make distinction. Provide this messenger.My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak;Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. Exeunt

SCENE 5.Without the walls of FlorenceA tucket afar off. Enter an old WIDOW OF FLORENCE, her daughter DIANA,VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other CITIZENSWIDOW. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city we shall loseall the sight.DIANA. They say the French count has done most honourable service.WIDOW. It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander;and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother. [Tucket]We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way. Hark! youmay know by their trumpets.MARIANA. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with thereport of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl; thehonour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich ashonesty.WIDOW. I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by agentleman his companion.MARIANA. I know that knave, hang him! one Parolles; a filthyofficer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana: their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and allthese engines of lust, are not the things they go under; many amaid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, thatso terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all thatdissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs thatthreatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but Ihope your own grace will keep you where you are, though therewere no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.DIANA. You shall not need to fear me.Enter HELENA in the dress of a pilgrimWIDOW. I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lieat my house: thither they send one another. I'll question her.God save you, pilgrim! Whither are bound?HELENA. To Saint Jaques le Grand.Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?WIDOW. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port.HELENA. Is this the way?[A march afar] WIDOW. Ay, marry, is't. Hark you! They come this way.If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,But till the troops come by,I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd;The rather for I think I know your hostessAs ample as myself.HELENA. Is it yourself?WIDOW. If you shall please so, pilgrim.HELENA. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.WIDOW. You came, I think, from France?HELENA. I did so.WIDOW. Here you shall see a countryman of yoursThat has done worthy service.HELENA. His name, I pray you.DIANA. The Count Rousillon. Know you such a one?HELENA. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him;His face I know not.DIANA. What some'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 CountReports 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 worthOf the great Count himself, she is too meanTo have her name repeated; all her deservingIs a reserved honesty, and thatI have not heard examin'd.DIANA. Alas, poor lady!'Tis a hard bondage to become the wifeOf a detesting lord.WIDOW. I sweet, good creature, wheresoe'er she isHer heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do herA shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.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 suitCorrupt the tender honour of a maid;But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guardIn honestest defence.Enter, with drum and colours, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and thewhole ARMYMARIANA. The gods forbid else!WIDOW. So, now they come.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 lov'd his wife; if he were honesterHe 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 knaveThat leads him to these places; were I his ladyI 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' th' battle.PAROLLES. Lose our drum! well.MARIANA. He's shrewdly vex'd at something.Look, he has spied us.WIDOW. Marry, hang you!MARIANA. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and ARMYWIDOW. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring youWhere you shall host. Of enjoin'd penitentsThere'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 maidTo eat with us to-night; the charge and thankingShall be for me, and, to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin,Worthy the note.BOTH. We'll take your offer kindly. Exeunt

SCENE 6.Camp before FlorenceEnter BERTRAM, and the two FRENCH LORDSSECOND LORD. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way.FIRST LORD. If your lordship find him not a hiding, hold me no morein your respect.SECOND LORD. On my life, my lord, a bubble.BERTRAM. Do you think I am so far deceived in him?SECOND LORD. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's amost notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourlypromise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy yourlordship's entertainment.FIRST LORD. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in hisvirtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trustybusiness in a main danger fail you.BERTRAM. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.FIRST LORD. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, whichyou hear him so confidently undertake to do.SECOND LORD. I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy.We will bind and hoodwink him so that he shall suppose no otherbut that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries whenwe bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present athis examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life and inthe highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you anddeliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and thatwith the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust myjudgment in anything.FIRST LORD. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; hesays he has a stratagem for't. When your lordship sees the bottomof his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump ofore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum'sentertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.Enter PAROLLESSECOND LORD. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour ofhis design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.BERTRAM. How now, monsieur! This drum sticks sorely in your disposition.FIRST 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 wasexcellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our ownwings, and to rend our own soldiers!FIRST LORD. That was not to be blam'd in the command of theservice; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could nothave 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 tobe 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 isseldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would havethat drum or another, or 'hic jacet.'BERTRAM. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur. If you thinkyour mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honouragain 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 toyou what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmostsyllable of our 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 pendown my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myselfinto my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear furtherfrom me.BERTRAM. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it?PAROLLES. I know not what the success will be, my lord, but theattempt I vow.BERTRAM. I know th' art valiant; and, to the of thy soldiership,will subscribe for thee. Farewell.PAROLLES. I love not many words. ExitSECOND LORD. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strangefellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake thisbusiness, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do,and dares better be damn'd than to do 't.FIRST LORD. You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and for a weekescape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out,you have him ever after.BERTRAM. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this thatso seriously he does address himself unto?SECOND LORD. None in the world; but return with an invention, andclap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almostemboss'd him. You shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he isnot for your lordship's respect.FIRST LORD. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him.He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise andhe is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which youshall see this very night.SECOND LORD. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught.BERTRAM. Your brother, he shall go along with me.SECOND LORD. As't please your lordship. I'll leave you. ExitBERTRAM. Now will I lead you to the house, and show youThe lass I spoke of.FIRST LORD. But you say she's honest.BERTRAM. That's all the fault. I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,By this same coxcomb that we have i' th' wind,Tokens and letters which she did re-send;And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature;Will you go see her?FIRST LORD. With all my heart, my lord. Exeunt

SCENE 7.Florence. The WIDOW'S houseEnter HELENA and WIDOWHELENA. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,I know not how I shall assure you furtherBut I shall lose the grounds I work upon.WIDOW. Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born,Nothing acquainted with these businesses;And would not put my reputation nowIn any staining act.HELENA. Nor would I wish you.FIRST give me trust the Count he is my husband,And what to your sworn counsel I have spokenIs so from word to word; and then you cannot,By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,Err in bestowing it.WIDOW. I should believe you;For you have show'd me that which well approvesY'are great in fortune.HELENA. Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far,Which I will over-pay and pay againWhen I have found it. The Count he woos your daughterLays down his wanton siege before her beauty,Resolv'd to carry her. Let her in fine consent,As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.Now his important blood will nought denyThat she'll demand. A ring the County wearsThat downward hath succeeded in his houseFrom son to son some four or five descentsSince the first father wore it. This ring he holdsIn most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire,To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,Howe'er repented after.WIDOW. Now I seeThe bottom of your purpose.HELENA. You see it lawful then. It is no moreBut that your daughter, ere she seems as won,Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent. After this,To marry her, I'll add three thousand crownsTo what is pass'd already.WIDOW. I have yielded.Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,That time and place with this deceit so lawfulMay prove coherent. Every night he comesWith musics of all sorts, and songs compos'dTo her unworthiness. It nothing steads usTo chide him from our eaves, for he persistsAs if his life lay on 't.HELENA. Why then to-nightLet us assay our plot; which, if it speed,Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,And lawful meaning in a lawful act;Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact.But let's about it. Exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.Without the Florentine campEnter SECOND FRENCH LORD with five or six other SOLDIERS in ambushSECOND LORD. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner.When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will;though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we mustnot seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom wemust produce for an interpreter.FIRST SOLDIER. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter.SECOND LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice?FIRST SOLDIER. No, sir, I warrant you.SECOND LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again?FIRST SOLDIER. E'en such as you speak to me.SECOND LORD. He must think us some band of strangers i' th'adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of allneighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man ofhis own fancy; not to know what we speak one to another, so weseem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language,gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile twohours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.Enter PAROLLESPAROLLES. Ten o'clock. Within these three hours 'twill be timeenough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be avery plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me;and disgraces have of late knock'd to often at my door. I find mytongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Marsbefore it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of mytongue.SECOND LORD. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue wasguilty of.PAROLLES. What the devil should move me to undertake the recoveryof this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, andknowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, andsay I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it.They will say 'Came you off with so little?' And great ones Idare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another ofBajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.SECOND LORD. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be thathe is?PAROLLES. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn,or the breaking of my Spanish sword.SECOND LORD. We cannot afford you so.PAROLLES. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was instratagem.SECOND LORD. 'Twould not do.PAROLLES. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripp'd.SECOND LORD. Hardly serve.PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel-SECOND LORD. How deep?PAROLLES. Thirty fathom.SECOND LORD. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.PAROLLES. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear Irecover'd it.SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. [Alarum within]PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's! SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.[They blindfold him]FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos thromuldo boskos.PAROLLES. I know you are the Muskos' regiment,And I shall lose my life for want of language.If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch,Italian, or French, let him speak to me;I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine.FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos vauvado. I understand thee, and can speak thytongue. Kerely-bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, forseventeen poniards are at thy bosom.PAROLLES. O!FIRST SOLDIER. O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.SECOND LORD. Oscorbidulchos volivorco.FIRST SOLDIER. The General is content to spare thee yet;And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee onTo gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informSomething to save thy life. PAROLLES. O, let me live,And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,Their force, their purposes. Nay, I'll speak thatWhich you will wonder at.FIRST SOLDIER. But wilt thou faithfully?PAROLLES. If I do not, damn me.FIRST SOLDIER. Acordo linta.Come on; thou art granted space.Exit, PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum withinSECOND LORD. Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brotherWe have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffledTill we do hear from them.SECOND SOLDIER. Captain, I will.SECOND LORD. 'A will betray us all unto ourselves-Inform on that.SECOND SOLDIER. So I will, sir.SECOND LORD. Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd.Exeunt

SCENE 2.Florence. The WIDOW'S houseEnter BERTRAM and DIANABERTRAM. They told me that your name was Fontibell.DIANA. No, my good lord, Diana.BERTRAM. Titled goddess;And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,In your fine frame hath love no quality?If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,You are no maiden, but a monument;When you are dead, you should be such a oneAs you are now, for you are cold and stern;And now you should be as your mother wasWhen your sweet self was got.DIANA. She then was honest.BERTRAM. So should you be.DIANA. No.My mother did but duty; such, my lord,As you owe to your wife.BERTRAM. No more o'that! I prithee do not strive against my vows.I was compell'd to her; but I love theBy love's own sweet constraint, and will for everDo thee all rights of service.DIANA. Ay, so you serve usTill we serve you; but when you have our rosesYou barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,And mock us with our bareness.BERTRAM. How have I sworn!DIANA. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.What is not holy, that we swear not by,But take the High'st to witness. Then, pray you, tell me:If I should swear by Jove's great attributesI lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oathsWhen I did love you ill? This has no holding,To swear by him whom I protest to loveThat I will work against him. Therefore your oathsAre words and poor conditions, but unseal'd-At least in my opinion. BERTRAM. Change it, change it;Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy;And my integrity ne'er knew the craftsThat you do charge men with. Stand no more off,But give thyself unto my sick desires,Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and everMy love as it begins shall so persever.DIANA. I see that men make ropes in such a scarreThat we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.BERTRAM. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no powerTo give it from me.DIANA. Will you not, my lord?BERTRAM. It is an honour 'longing to our house,Bequeathed down from many ancestors;Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' worldIn me to lose.DIANA. Mine honour's such a ring:My chastity's the jewel of our house,Bequeathed down from many ancestors;Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdomBrings in the champion Honour on my partAgainst your vain assault.BERTRAM. Here, take my ring;My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,And I'll be bid by thee.DIANA. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window;I'll order take my mother shall not hear.Now will I charge you in the band of truth,When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:My reasons are most strong; and you shall know themWhen back again this ring shall be deliver'd.And on your finger in the night I'll putAnother ring, that what in time proceedsMay token to the future our past deeds.Adieu till then; then fail not. You have wonA wife of me, though there my hope be done.BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.Exit DIANA. For which live long to thank both heaven and me!You may so in the end.My mother told me just how he would woo,As if she sat in's heart; she says all menHave the like oaths. He had sworn to marry meWhen his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with himWhen I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,Marry that will, I live and die a maid.Only, in this disguise, I think't no sinTo cozen him that would unjustly win. Exit

SCENE 3.The Florentine campEnter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERSSECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter?FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is somethingin't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'dalmost into another man.SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking offso good a wife and so sweet a lady.FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasureof the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness tohim. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darklywith you.SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the graveof it.FIRST LORD. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence,of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will inthe spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring,and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we!FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course ofall treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attainto their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrivesagainst his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflowshimself.SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of ourunlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see hiscompany anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his ownjudgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for hispresence must be the whip of the other.SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace.SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travelhigher, or return again into France?SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his counsel.FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great dealof his act.SECOND LORD. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from hishouse. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand;which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony sheaccomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her naturebecame as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her lastbreath, and now she sings in heaven.FIRST LORD. How is this justified?SECOND LORD. The stronger part of it by her own letters, whichmakes her story true even to the point of her death. Her deathitself, which could not be her office to say is come, wasfaithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place.FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence?SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point frompoint, to the full arming of the verity.FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of ourlosses! FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain intears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd forhim shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample.SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and illtogether. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt themnot; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd byour virtues.Enter a MESSENGERHow now? Where's your master?SERVANT. He met the Duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath takena solemn leave. His lordship will next morning for France. TheDuke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King.SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they weremore than they can commend.FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness.Here's his lordship now.Enter BERTRAM How now, my lord, is't not after midnight?BERTRAM. I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month'slength apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with theDuke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd forher; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd myconvoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected manynicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not endedyet.SECOND LORD. If the business be of any difficulty and this morningyour departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.BERTRAM. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of ithereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the Fool andthe Soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module hasdeceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier.SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th'stocks all night, poor gallant knave.BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping hisspurs so long. How does he carry himself?SECOND LORD. I have told your lordship already the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood: he weeps likea wench that had shed her milk; he hath confess'd himself toMorgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of hisremembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' th'stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd?BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a?SECOND LORD. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to hisface; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you musthave the patience to hear it.Enter PAROLLES guarded, andFIRST SOLDIER as interpreterBERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! 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 yepinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.FIRST SOLDIER. Bosko chimurcho. SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco.FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids youanswer 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 isstrong.' What say you to that?PAROLLES. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable.The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poorrogues, 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 youwill.BERTRAM. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles,the gallant militarist-that was his own phrase-that had the wholetheoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in thechape of his dagger.FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his swordclean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing hisapparel neatly. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down.PAROLLES. 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true— 'orthereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth.SECOND 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 aremarvellous poor.FIRST SOLDIER. 'Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.'What say you to that?PAROLLES. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, Iwill tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty;Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian,Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine owncompany, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each; sothat the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts notto fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake thesnow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves topieces. BERTRAM. What shall be done to him?SECOND LORD. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him mycondition, and what credit I have with the Duke.FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. 'You shall demand of himwhether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what hisreputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, expertnessin wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, withwell-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt.' What sayyou to this? What do you know of it?PAROLLES. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of theinter'gatories. Demand them singly.FIRST SOLDIER. Do you know this Captain Dumain?PAROLLES. I know him: 'a was a botcher's prentice in Paris, fromwhence he was whipt for getting the shrieve's fool with child-adumb innocent that could not say him nay.BERTRAM. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know hisbrains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.FIRST SOLDIER. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence'scamp?PAROLLES. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. SECOND LORD. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of yourlordship anon.FIRST SOLDIER. What is his reputation with the Duke?PAROLLES. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer ofmine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band.I think I have his letter in my pocket.FIRST SOLDIER. Marry, we'll search.PAROLLES. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or itis upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent.FIRST SOLDIER. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you?PAROLLES. I do not know if it be it or no.BERTRAM. Our interpreter does it well.SECOND LORD. Excellently.FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] 'Dian, the Count's a fool, and full ofgold.'PAROLLES. That is not the Duke's letter, sir; that is anadvertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to takeheed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idleboy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it upagain. FIRST SOLDIER. Nay, I'll read it first by your favour.PAROLLES. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalfof the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous andlascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up allthe fry it finds.BERTRAM. Damnable both-sides rogue!FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads]'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;After he scores, he never pays the score.Half won is match well made; match, and well make it;He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before.And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this:Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss;For count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it,Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,PAROLLES.'BERTRAM. He shall be whipt through the army with this rhyme in'sforehead.FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the amnipotent soldier.BERTRAM. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's acat to me.FIRST SOLDIER. I perceive, sir, by our General's looks we shall befain to hang you.PAROLLES. My life, sir, in any case! Not that I am afraid to die,but that, my offences being many, I would repent out theremainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' th'stocks, or anywhere, so I may live.FIRST SOLDIER. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely;therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answer'd tohis reputation with the Duke, and to his valour; what is hishonesty?PAROLLES. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapesand ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping ofoaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie,sir, with such volubility that you would think truth were a fool.Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; andin his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes abouthim; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty. He has everythingthat an honest man should not have; what an honest man shouldhave he has nothing.SECOND LORD. I begin to love him for this.BERTRAM. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! Forme, he's more and more a cat.FIRST SOLDIER. What say you to his expertness in war?PAROLLES. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the Englishtragedians-to belie him I will not-and more of his soldier-shipI know not, except in that country he had the honour to be theofficer at a place there called Mile-end to instruct for thedoubling of files-I would do the man what honour I can-but ofthis I am not certain.SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarityredeems him.BERTRAM. A pox on him! he's a cat still.FIRST SOLDIER. His qualities being at this poor price, I need notto ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.PAROLLES. Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of hissalvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me?FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' same nest; not altogether so great asthe first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. Heexcels his brother for a coward; yet his brother is reputed oneof the best that is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey: marry,in coming on he has the cramp.FIRST SOLDIER. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betraythe Florentine?PAROLLES. Ay, and the Captain of his Horse, Count Rousillon.FIRST SOLDIER. I'll whisper with the General, and know hispleasure.PAROLLES. [Aside] I'll no more drumming. A plague of all drums!Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition ofthat lascivious young boy the Count, have I run into this danger.Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?FIRST SOLDIER. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die.The General says you that have so traitorously discover'd the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of menvery nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; thereforeyou must die. Come, headsman, of with his head.PAROLLES. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!FIRST SOLDIER. That shall you, and take your leave of all yourfriends. [Unmuffling him] So look about you; know you any here?BERTRAM. Good morrow, noble Captain.FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles.SECOND LORD. God save you, noble Captain.FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I amfor France.SECOND LORD. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnetyou writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? An I were nota very coward I'd compel it of you; but fare you well.Exeunt BERTRAM and LORDSFIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; thathas a knot on 't yet.PAROLLES. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?FIRST SOLDIER. If you could find out a country where but women werethat had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too; we shall speak ofyou there. Exit with SOLDIERSPAROLLES. Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great,'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more;But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as softAs captain shall. Simply the thing I amShall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,Let him fear this; for it will come to passThat every braggart shall be found an ass.Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and, Parolles, liveSafest in shame. Being fool'd, by fool'ry thrive.There's place and means for every man alive.I'll after them. Exit

SCENE 4.The WIDOW'S houseEnter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANAHELENA. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you!One of the greatest in the Christian worldShall be my surety; fore whose throne 'tis needful,Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.Time was I did him a desired office,Dear almost as his life; which gratitudeThrough flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth,And answer 'Thanks.' I duly am inform'dHis Grace is at Marseilles, to which placeWe have convenient convoy. You must knowI am supposed dead. The army breaking,My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,And by the leave of my good lord the King,We'll be before our welcome.WIDOW. Gentle madam,You never had a servant to whose trustYour business was more welcome. HELENA. Nor you, mistress,Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labourTo recompense your love. Doubt not but heavenHath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,As it hath fated her to be my motiveAnd helper to a husband. But, O strange men!That can such sweet use make of what they hate,When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughtsDefiles the pitchy night. So lust doth playWith what it loathes, for that which is away.But more of this hereafter. You, Diana,Under my poor instructions yet must sufferSomething in my behalf.DIANA. Let death and honestyGo with your impositions, I am yoursUpon your will to suffer.HELENA. Yet, I pray you:But with the word the time will bring on summer,When briers shall have leaves as well as thornsAnd be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us.All's Well that Ends Well. Still the fine's the crown.Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. Exeunt

SCENE 5.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceEnter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWNLAFEU. No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellowthere, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'dand doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-lawhad been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, moreadvanc'd by the King than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I speakof.COUNTESS. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the mostvirtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. Ifshe had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of amother. I could not have owed her a more rooted love.LAFEU. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a thousandsallets ere we light on such another herb.CLOWN. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallet, or,rather, the herb of grace.LAFEU. They are not sallet-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.CLOWN. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill ingrass. LAFEU. Whether dost thou profess thyself-a knave or a fool?CLOWN. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.LAFEU. Your distinction?CLOWN. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.LAFEU. So you were a knave at his service, indeed.CLOWN. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.LAFEU. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool.CLOWN. At your service.LAFEU. No, no, no.CLOWN. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great aprince as you are.LAFEU. Who's that? A Frenchman?CLOWN. Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is morehotter in France than there.LAFEU. What prince is that?CLOWN. The Black Prince, sir; alias, the Prince of Darkness; alias,the devil.LAFEU. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggestthee from thy master thou talk'st of; serve him still.CLOWN. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, heis the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. Iam for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be toolittle for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may; butthe many will be too chill and tender: and they'll be for theflow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.LAFEU. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell theeso before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways;let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks.CLOWN. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades'tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature.ExitLAFEU. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.COUNTESS. So 'a is. My lord that's gone made himself much sportout of him. By his authority he remains here, which he thinks isa patent for his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but runswhere he will.LAFEU. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tellyou, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lordyour son was upon his return home, I moved the King my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority ofthem both, his Majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance didfirst propose. His Highness hath promis'd me to do it; and, tostop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, thereis no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?COUNTESS. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happilyeffected.LAFEU. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body aswhen he number'd thirty; 'a will be here to-morrow, or I amdeceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd.COUNTESS. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die.I have letters that my son will be here to-night. I shall beseechyour lordship to remain with me tal they meet together.LAFEU. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely beadmitted.COUNTESS. You need but plead your honourable privilege.LAFEU. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank myGod, it holds yet.Re-enter CLOWN CLOWN. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velveton's face; whether there be a scar under 't or no, the velvetknows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is acheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.LAFEU. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv'ry ofhonour; so belike is that.CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face.LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you;I long to talk with the young noble soldier.CLOWN. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, andmost courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.Exeunt

ACT V.

SCENE 1.Marseilles. A streetEnter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA, with two ATTENDANTSHELENA. But this exceeding posting day and nightMust wear your spirits low; we cannot help it.But since you have made the days and nights as one,To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,Be bold you do so grow in my requitalAs nothing can unroot you.Enter a GENTLEMANIn happy time!This man may help me to his Majesty's ear,If he would spend his power. God save you, sir.GENTLEMAN. And you.HELENA. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.GENTLEMAN. I have been sometimes there.HELENA. I do presume, sir, that you are not fall'nFrom the report that goes upon your goodness; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,Which lay nice manners by, I put you toThe use of your own virtues, for the whichI shall continue thankful.GENTLEMAN. What's your will?HELENA. That it will please youTo give this poor petition to the King;And aid me with that store of power you haveTo come into his presence.GENTLEMAN. The King's not here.HELENA. Not here, sir?GENTLEMAN. Not indeed.He hence remov'd last night, and with more hasteThan is his use.WIDOW. Lord, how we lose our pains!HELENA. All's Well That Ends Well yet,Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.I do beseech you, whither is he gone?GENTLEMAN. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;Whither I am going. HELENA. I do beseech you, sir,Since you are like to see the King before me,Commend the paper to his gracious hand;Which I presume shall render you no blame,But rather make you thank your pains for it.I will come after you with what good speedOur means will make us means.GENTLEMAN. This I'll do for you.HELENA. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again;Go, go, provide. Exeunt

SCENE 2.Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNT'S palaceEnter CLOWN and PAROLLESPAROLLES. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. Ihave ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have heldfamiliarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied inFortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strongdispleasure.CLOWN. Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smellso strongly as thou speak'st of. I will henceforth eat no fishof Fortune's butt'ring. Prithee, allow the wind.PAROLLES. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but bya metaphor.CLOWN. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; oragainst any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further.PAROLLES. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.CLOWN. Foh! prithee stand away. A paper from Fortune's close-stoolto give to a nobleman! Look here he comes himself.Enter LAFEU Here is a pur of Fortune's, sir, or of Fortune's cat, but nota musk-cat, that has fall'n into the unclean fishpond of herdispleasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir,use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed,ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distressin my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.ExitPAROLLES. My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratch'd.LAFEU. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare hernails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune, thatshe should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and wouldnot have knaves thrive long under her? There's a cardecue foryou. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am forother business.PAROLLES. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.LAFEU. You beg a single penny more; come, you shall ha't; save yourword.PAROLLES. My name, my good lord, is Parolles.LAFEU. You beg more than word then. Cox my passion! give me your hand. How does your drum?PAROLLES. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.LAFEU. Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee.PAROLLES. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, foryou did bring me out.LAFEU. Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both theoffice of God and the devil? One brings the in grace, and theother brings thee out. [Trumpets sound] The King's coming; Iknow by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I hadtalk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, youshall eat. Go to; follow.PAROLLES. I praise God for you. Exeunt

SCENE 3.Rousillon. The COUNT'S palaceFlourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two FRENCH LORDS, with ATTENDANTSKING. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteemWas made much poorer by it; but your son,As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to knowHer estimation home.COUNTESS. 'Tis past, my liege;And I beseech your Majesty to make itNatural rebellion, done i' th' blaze of youth,When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,O'erbears it and burns on.KING. My honour'd lady,I have forgiven and forgotten all;Though my revenges were high bent upon himAnd watch'd the time to shoot.LAFEU. This I must say-But first, I beg my pardon: the young lordDid to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; but to himselfThe greatest wrong of all. He lost a wifeWhose beauty did astonish the surveyOf richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serveHumbly call'd mistress.KING. Praising what is lostMakes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall killAll repetition. Let him not ask our pardon;The nature of his great offence is dead,And deeper than oblivion do we buryTh' incensing relics of it; let him approach,A stranger, no offender; and inform himSo 'tis our will he should.GENTLEMAN. I shall, my liege. Exit GENTLEMANKING. What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke?LAFEU. All that he is hath reference to your Highness.KING. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent meThat sets him high in fame. Enter BERTRAMLAFEU. He looks well on 't.KING. I am not a day of season,For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hailIn me at once. But to the brightest beamsDistracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;The time is fair again.BERTRAM. My high-repented blames,Dear sovereign, pardon to me.KING. All is whole;Not one word more of the consumed time.Let's take the instant by the forward top;For we are old, and on our quick'st decreesTh' inaudible and noiseless foot of TimeSteals ere we can effect them. You rememberThe daughter of this lord?BERTRAM. Admiringly, my liege. At firstI stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold herald of my tongue;Where the impression of mine eye infixing,Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,Which warp'd the line of every other favour,Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stol'n,Extended or contracted all proportionsTo a most hideous object. Thence it cameThat she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eyeThe dust that did offend it.KING. Well excus'd.That thou didst love her, strikes some scores awayFrom the great compt; but love that comes too late,Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,To the great sender turns a sour offence,Crying 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faultsMake trivial price of serious things we have,Not knowing them until we know their grave.Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust; Our own love waking cries to see what's done,While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.Be this sweet Helen's knell. And now forget her.Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin.The main consents are had; and here we'll stayTo see our widower's second marriage-day.COUNTESS. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!LAFEU. Come on, my son, in whom my house's nameMust be digested; give a favour from you,To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,That she may quickly come.[BERTRAM gives a ring]By my old beard,And ev'ry hair that's on 't, Helen, that's dead,Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this,The last that e'er I took her leave at court,I saw upon her finger.BERTRAM. Hers it was not.KING. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.This ring was mine; and when I gave it HelenI bade her, if her fortunes ever stoodNecessitied to help, that by this tokenI would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave herOf what should stead her most?BERTRAM. My gracious sovereign,Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,The ring was never hers.COUNTESS. Son, on my life,I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd itAt her life's rate.LAFEU. I am sure I saw her wear it.BERTRAM. You are deceiv'd, my lord; she never saw it.In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the nameOf her that threw it. Noble she was, and thoughtI stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'dTo mine own fortune, and inform'd her fullyI could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,In heavy satisfaction, and would neverReceive the ring again.KING. Plutus himself,That knows the tinct and multiplying med'cine,Hath not in nature's mystery more scienceThan I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's,Whoever gave it you. Then, if you knowThat you are well acquainted with yourself,Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcementYou got it from her. She call'd the saints to suretyThat she would never put it from her fingerUnless she gave it to yourself in bed-Where you have never come— or sent it usUpon her great disaster.BERTRAM. She never saw it.KING. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;And mak'st conjectural fears to come into meWhich I would fain shut out. If it should proveThat thou art so inhuman— 'twill not prove so. And yet I know not— thou didst hate her deadly,And she is dead; which nothing, but to closeHer eyes myself, could win me to believeMore than to see this ring. Take him away.[GUARDS seize BERTRAM]My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,Shall tax my fears of little vanity,Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him.We'll sift this matter further.BERTRAM. If you shall proveThis ring was ever hers, you shall as easyProve that I husbanded her bed in Florence,Where she yet never was. Exit, guardedKING. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.Enter a GENTLEMANGENTLEMAN. Gracious sovereign,Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath, for four or five removes, come shortTo tender it herself. I undertook it,Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speechOf the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,Is here attending; her business looks in herWith an importing visage; and she told meIn a sweet verbal brief it did concernYour Highness with herself.KING. [Reads the letter] 'Upon his many protestations to marry mewhen his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is theCount Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and myhonour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave,and I follow him to his country for justice. Grant it me, O King!in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poormaid is undone.DIANA CAPILET.'LAFEU. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this.I'll none of him.KING. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,To bring forth this discov'ry. Seek these suitors. Go speedily, and bring again the Count.Exeunt ATTENDANTSI am afeard the life of Helen, lady,Was foully snatch'd.COUNTESS. Now, justice on the doers!Enter BERTRAM, guardedKING. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you.And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,Yet you desire to marry.Enter WIDOW and DIANAWhat woman's that?DIANA. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,Derived from the ancient Capilet.My suit, as I do understand, you know,And therefore know how far I may be pitied.WIDOW. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honourBoth suffer under this complaint we bring,And both shall cease, without your remedy. KING. Come hither, Count; do you know these women?BERTRAM. My lord, I neither can nor will denyBut that I know them. Do they charge me further?DIANA. Why do you look so strange upon your wife?BERTRAM. She's none of mine, my lord.DIANA. If you shall marry,You give away this hand, and that is mine;You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;You give away myself, which is known mine;For I by vow am so embodied yoursThat she which marries you must marry me,Either both or none.LAFEU. [To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short formy daughter; you are no husband for her.BERTRAM. My lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creatureWhom sometime I have laugh'd with. Let your HighnessLay a more noble thought upon mine honourThan for to think that I would sink it here.KING. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friendTill your deeds gain them. Fairer prove your honour Than in my thought it lies!DIANA. Good my lord,Ask him upon his oath if he does thinkHe had not my virginity.KING. What say'st thou to her?BERTRAM. She's impudent, my lord,And was a common gamester to the camp.DIANA. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were soHe might have bought me at a common price.Do not believe him. o, behold this ring,Whose high respect and rich validityDid lack a parallel; yet, for all that,He gave it to a commoner o' th' camp,If I be one.COUNTESS. He blushes, and 'tis it.Of six preceding ancestors, that gemConferr'd by testament to th' sequent issue,Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife:That ring's a thousand proofs.KING. Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it.DIANA. I did, my lord, but loath am to produceSo bad an instrument; his name's Parolles.LAFEU. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.KING. Find him, and bring him hither. Exit an ATTENDANTBERTRAM. What of him?He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,With all the spots o' th' world tax'd and debauch'd,Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.Am I or that or this for what he'll utterThat will speak anything?KING. She hath that ring of yours.BERTRAM. I think she has. Certain it is I lik'd her,And boarded her i' th' wanton way of youth.She knew her distance, and did angle for me,Madding my eagerness with her restraint,As all impediments in fancy's courseAre motives of more fancy; and, in fine,Her infinite cunning with her modern graceSubdu'd me to her rate. She got the ring; And I had that which any inferior mightAt market-price have bought.DIANA. I must be patient.You that have turn'd off a first so noble wifeMay justly diet me. I pray you yet-Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband-Send for your ring, I will return it home,And give me mine again.BERTRAM. I have it not.KING. What ring was yours, I pray you?DIANA. Sir, much likeThe same upon your finger.KING. Know you this ring? This ring was his of late.DIANA. And this was it I gave him, being abed.KING. The story, then, goes false you threw it himOut of a casement.DIANA. I have spoke the truth.Enter PAROLLESBERTRAM. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.KING. You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you.Is this the man you speak of?DIANA. Ay, my lord.KING. Tell me, sirrah-but tell me true I charge you,Not fearing the displeasure of your master,Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off-By him and by this woman here what know you?PAROLLES. So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honourablegentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.KING. Come, come, to th' purpose. Did he love this woman?PAROLLES. Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?KING. How, I pray you?PAROLLES. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.KING. How is that?PAROLLES. He lov'd her, sir, and lov'd her not.KING. As thou art a knave and no knave.What an equivocal companion is this!PAROLLES. I am a poor man, and at your Majesty's command.LAFEU. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. DIANA. Do you know he promis'd me marriage?PAROLLES. Faith, I know more than I'll speak.KING. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st?PAROLLES. Yes, so please your Majesty. I did go between them, as Isaid; but more than that, he loved her-for indeed he was mad forher, and talk'd of Satan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I knownot what. Yet I was in that credit with them at that time that Iknew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promisingher marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speakof; therefore I will not speak what I know.KING. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they aremarried; but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore standaside.This ring, you say, was yours?DIANA. Ay, my good lord.KING. Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you?DIANA. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.KING. Who lent it you?DIANA. It was not lent me neither.KING. Where did you find it then? DIANA. I found it not.KING. If it were yours by none of all these ways,How could you give it him?DIANA. I never gave it him.LAFEU. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes of and on atpleasure.KING. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.DIANA. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.KING. Take her away, I do not like her now;To prison with her. And away with him.Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,Thou diest within this hour.DIANA. I'll never tell you.KING. Take her away.DIANA. I'll put in bail, my liege.KING. I think thee now some common customer.DIANA. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.KING. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while?DIANA. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty.He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't: I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.Great King, I am no strumpet, by my life;I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.[Pointing to LAFEU]KING. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.DIANA. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir;Exit WIDOWThe jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,And he shall surety me. But for this lordWho hath abus'd me as he knows himself,Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him.He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd;And at that time he got his wife with child.Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick;So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick-And now behold the meaning.Re-enter WIDOW with HELENAKING. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?Is't real that I see?HELENA. No, my good lord;'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,The name and not the thing.BERTRAM. Both, both; o, pardon!HELENA. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring,And, look you, here's your letter. This it says:'When from my finger you can get this ring,And are by me with child,' etc. This is done.Will you be mine now you are doubly won?BERTRAM. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.HELENA. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,Deadly divorce step between me and you!O my dear mother, do I see you living?LAFEU. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon. [To PAROLLES]Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher. So, Ithank thee. Wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee; let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones.KING. Let us from point to point this story know,To make the even truth in pleasure flow.[To DIANA] If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower,Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;For I can guess that by thy honest aidThou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.-Of that and all the progress, more and less,Resolvedly more leisure shall express.All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish]EPILOGUEEPILOGUE.KING. The King's a beggar, now the play is done.All is well ended if this suit be won,That you express content; which we will payWith strife to please you, day exceeding day.Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.Exeunt omnesTHE END