William
Shakespeare
ALL’S WELL
THAT ENDS WELL
Dramatis
Personae
KING OF
FRANCE
DUKE OF
FLORENCE
BERTRAM
Count of Rousillon.
LAFEU an
old lord.
PAROLLES a
follower of Bertram.
Steward,
Clown } servants to the Countess of Rousillon.
A Page.
COUNTESS
OF ROUSILLON mother to Bertram.
HELENA a
gentlewoman protected by the Countess.
An old
Widow of Florence.
DIANA
daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA,
MARIANA } neighbours and friends to the Widow.
Lords,
Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.
[Scene: Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles.]
Act 1
Scene 1
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA, and LAFEU, all
in black]
COUNTESS
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 in ward, evermore in subjection.
LAFEU
You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you,
sir, a
father: he that so generally is at all times
good must
of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose
worthiness
would stir it up where it wanted rather
than lack
it where there is such abundance.
COUNTESS
What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?
LAFEU
He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose
practises
he hath persecuted time with hope, and
finds no
other advantage in the process but only the
losing of
hope by time.
COUNTESS
This young gentlewoman had a father, -- O, that
'had'! how
sad a passage 'tis! -- whose skill was
almost as
great as his honesty; had it stretched so
far, would
have made nature immortal, and death
should
have play for lack of work. Would, for the
king's
sake, he were living! I think it would be
the death
of the king's disease.
LAFEU
How called you the man you speak of, madam?
COUNTESS
He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was
his great
right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.
LAFEU
He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very
lately
spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he
was
skilful enough to have lived 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
the
daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
COUNTESS
His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my
overlooking.
I have those hopes of her good that
her
education promises; her dispositions she
inherits,
which makes fair gifts fairer; for where
an unclean
mind carries virtuous qualities, there
commendations
go with pity; they are virtues and
traitors
too; 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 the tyranny of her sorrows takes all
livelihood
from her cheek. No more of this, Helena;
go to, no
more; lest it be rather thought you affect
a sorrow
than have it.
HELENA
I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.
LAFEU
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessive
grief the enemy to the living.
COUNTESS
If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess
makes it
soon mortal.
BERTRAM
Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
LAFEU
How understand we that?
COUNTESS
Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In
manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend
for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with
thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong
to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in
power than use, and keep thy friend
Under thy
own life's key: be cheque'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 best
That shall
attend his love.
COUNTESS
Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram.
[Exit]
BERTRAM
[To HELENA]
The best wishes that can be forged in
your
thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable
to my
mother, your mistress, and make much of her.
LAFEU
Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of
your
father.
[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU]
HELENA
O, were that all! I think not on my father;
And these
great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those
I shed for him. What was he like?
I have
forgot him: my imagination
Carries no
favour in't but Bertram's.
I am
undone: there is no living, none,
If Bertram
be away. 'Twere all one
That I
should love a bright particular star
And think
to wed it, he is so above me:
In his
bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be
comforted, not in his sphere.
The
ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind
that would be mated by the lion
Must die
for love. 'Twas pretty, though plague,
To see him
every hour; to sit and draw
His arched
brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our
heart's table; heart too capable
Of every
line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now
he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must
sanctify his reliques. 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
fixed evils sit so fit in him,
That they
take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak
i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold
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 a
question. Man is enemy to virginity; how
may we
barricado it against him?
PAROLLES
Keep him out.
HELENA
But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant,
in the
defence yet is weak: unfold to us some
warlike
resistance.
PAROLLES
There is none: man, sitting down before you, will
undermine
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
yourselves made, you lose your city. It
is not
politic in the commonwealth of nature to
preserve
virginity. Loss of virginity is rational
increase
and there was never virgin got till
virginity
was first lost. That you were made of is
metal to
make virgins. Virginity by being once lost
may be ten
times found; by being ever kept, it is
ever lost:
'tis too cold a companion; away with 't!
HELENA
I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.
PAROLLES
There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the
rule of
nature. To speak on the part of virginity,
is to
accuse your mothers; which is most infallible
disobedience.
He that hangs himself is a virgin:
virginity
murders itself and should be buried in
highways
out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate
offendress
against nature. Virginity breeds mites,
much like
a cheese; consumes itself to the very
paring,
and so dies with feeding his own stomach.
Besides,
virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of
self-love,
which is the most inhibited sin in the
canon.
Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose
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: away with '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 time of request.
Virginity,
like an old courtier, wears her cap out
of
fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just
like the
brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not
now. Your
date is better in your pie and your
porridge
than in your cheek; and your virginity,
your old
virginity, is like one of our French
withered
pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry,
'tis a
withered pear; it was formerly better;
marry, yet
'tis a withered pear: will you anything 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 world
Of pretty,
fond, adoptious christendoms,
That
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't,
Which
might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose
baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with
effects of them follow our friends,
And show
what we alone must think, which never
Return us
thanks.
[Enter Page]
Page
Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
[Exit]
PAROLLES
Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I
will think
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 Mars?
HELENA
The wars have so kept you under that you must needs
be born
under 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 the
composition that your valour and fear makes
in you is
a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.
PAROLLES
I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee
acutely. I
will return perfect courtier; in the
which, my
instruction shall serve to naturalize
thee, so
thou wilt be capable of a courtier's
counsel
and understand what advice shall thrust upon
thee; else
thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and
thine
ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When
thou hast
leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast
none,
remember thy friends; get thee a good husband,
and use
him as he uses thee; so, farewell.
[Exit]
HELENA
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we
ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us
free scope, only doth backward pull
Our 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 brings
To join
like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible
be strange attempts to those
That weigh
their pains in sense and do suppose
What hath
been cannot be: who ever strove
So 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 palace.]
[Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, with letters, and
divers Attendants]
KING
The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have
fought with equal fortune and continue
A braving
war.
First Lord
So 'tis reported, sir.
KING
Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it
A
certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With
caution that the Florentine will move us
For speedy
aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates
the business and would seem
To have us
make denial.
First Lord
His love and wisdom,
Approved
so to your majesty, may plead
For
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 leave
To stand
on either part.
Second
Lord
It well may serve
A nursery
to our gentry, who are sick
For
breathing and exploit.
KING
What's he comes here?
[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES]
First 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
composed thee. Thy father's moral parts
Mayst 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 friendship
First
tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into 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 me
To talk of
your good father. In his youth
He had the
wit which I can well observe
To-day in
our young lords; but they may jest
Till their
own scorn return to them unnoted
Ere they
can hide their levity in honour;
So like a
courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in
his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal
had awaked them, and his honour,
Clock to
itself, knew the true minute when
Exception
bid him speak, and at this time
His tongue
obey'd his hand: who were below him
He used as
creatures of another place
And bow'd
his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making
them proud of his humility,
In their
poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a
copy to these younger times;
Which,
follow'd 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 epitaph
As in your
royal speech.
KING
Would I were with him! He would always say --
Methinks I
hear him now; his plausive words
He
scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To 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 snuff
Of younger
spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but
new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere
fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire
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 are 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 famed.
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 out
With
several applications; nature and sickness
Debate it
at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's
no dearer.
BERTRAM
Thank your majesty.
[Exeunt. Flourish]
Scene 3
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown]
COUNTESS
I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?
Steward
Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I
wish might
be found in the calendar of my past
endeavours;
for then we wound 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:
the
complaints I have heard of you I do not all
believe:
'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know
you lack
not folly to commit them, 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 of
the rich are damned: but, if I may have
your
ladyship's good will to 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 I think I shall never have the
blessing
of God till I have issue o' my body; for
they say
barnes are blessings.
COUNTESS
Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Clown
My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on
by the
flesh; 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 flesh
and 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
for my wife's sake.
COUNTESS
Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clown
You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the
knaves
come to do that for me which I am aweary of.
He that
ears my land spares my team and gives me
leave to
in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my
drudge: he
that comforts my wife is the cherisher
of my
flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh
and blood
loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my
flesh and
blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses
my wife is
my friend. If men could be contented to
be what
they are, there were no fear in marriage;
for young
Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the
Papist,
howsome'er their hearts are severed in
religion,
their heads are both one; they may jowl
horns
together, like any deer i' the herd.
COUNTESS
Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed 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;
Helen, I
mean.
Clown
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' the
song: would God would serve the world so all
the year!
we'ld find no fault with the tithe-woman,
if I were
the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! An we
might have
a good woman born but one every blazing
star, or
at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery
well: a
man may 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 will wear the surplice of
humility
over the black gown of a big heart. I am
going,
forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither.
[Exit]
COUNTESS
Well, now.
Steward
I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.
COUNTESS
Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and
she
herself, without other advantage, may lawfully
make title
to as much love as she finds: there is
more owing
her than is paid; and more shall be paid
her than
she'll demand.
Steward
Madam, I was very late more near her than I think
she wished
me: alone she was, and did communicate
to herself
her own words to her own ears; she
thought, I
dare vow for her, they touched not any
stranger
sense. Her matter was, she loved your son:
Fortune,
she said, was no goddess, that had put
such
difference betwixt their two estates; Love no
god, that
would not extend his might, only where
qualities
were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that
would
suffer her poor knight surprised, without
rescue in
the first assault or ransom afterward.
This she
delivered in the most bitter touch of
sorrow
that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I
held my
duty speedily to acquaint you withal;
sithence,
in the loss that may happen, it concerns
you
something to know it.
COUNTESS
You have discharged this honestly; keep it to
yourself:
many likelihoods informed me of this
before,
which hung so tottering in the balance that
I could
neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you,
leave me:
stall this in your bosom; and I thank you
for your
honest care: I will speak with you further anon.
[Exit Steward]
[Enter HELENA]
Even so it was with me when I was young:
If ever we
are nature's, these are ours; this thorn
Doth 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 those
That were
enwombed mine: 'tis often seen
Adoption
strives with nature and choice breeds
A 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 blood
To say I
am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this
distemper'd 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 honour'd name;
No note
upon my parents, his all noble:
My master,
my dear lord he is; and I
His
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 see
The
mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt
tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross
You love
my son; invention is ashamed,
Against
the proclamation of thy passion,
To say
thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
But tell
me then, 'tis so; for, look thy cheeks
Confess
it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes
See it so
grossly shown in thy behaviors
That in
their kind they speak it: only sin
And
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,
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 bond,
Whereof
the world takes note: come, come, disclose
The state
of your affection; for your passions
Have 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 him
That he is
loved of me: I follow him not
By 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 sieve
I 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 worshipper,
But 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 liking
Wish
chastely and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both
herself and love: O, then, give pity
To her,
whose state is such that cannot choose
But 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 prescriptions
Of rare
and proved effects, such as his reading
And
manifest experience had collected
For
general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In
heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,
As notes
whose faculties inclusive were
More than
they were in note: amongst the rest,
There is a
remedy, approved, set down,
To cure
the desperate languishings whereof
The king
is render'd lost.
COUNTESS
This was your motive
For 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 thoughts
Haply been
absent then.
COUNTESS
But think you, Helen,
If you
should tender your supposed aid,
He would
receive it? he and his physicians
Are of a
mind; he, that they cannot help him,
They, that
they cannot help: how shall they credit
A poor
unlearned virgin, when the schools,
Embowell'd
of their doctrine, have left off
The danger
to itself?
HELENA
There's something in't,
More than
my father's skill, which was the greatest
Of his
profession, that his good receipt
Shall for
my legacy be sanctified
By the
luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour
But give
me leave to try success, I'ld venture
The
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 greetings
To 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 2
Scene 1
[Paris. The KING's palace.]
[Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING, attended with divers young
Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES]
KING
Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles
Do 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 received,
And is
enough for both.
First Lord
'Tis our hope, sir,
After well
enter'd soldiers, to return
And find
your grace in health.
KING
No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not
confess he owes the malady
That doth
my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;
Whether I
live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy
Frenchmen: let higher Italy, --
Those
bated that inherit but the fall
Of the
last monarchy, -- see that you come
Not to woo
honour, but to wed it; when
The
bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame
may cry you loud: 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 captives,
Before you
serve.
Both
Our hearts receive your warnings.
KING
Farewell. Come hither to me.
[Exit, attended]
First 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 'the 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 worn
But 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 tortured body.
First Lord
Farewell, captain.
Second
Lord
Sweet Monsieur Parolles!
PAROLLES
Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good
sparks and
lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall
find in
the regiment of the Spinii one Captain
Spurio,
with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here
on his
sinister cheek; it was this very sword
entrenched
it: say to him, I live; and observe his
reports
for me.
First Lord
We shall, noble captain.
[Exeunt Lords]
PAROLLES
Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do?
BERTRAM
Stay: the king.
[Re-enter KING. BERTRAM and PAROLLES retire]
PAROLLES
[To BERTRAM]
Use a more spacious ceremony to the
noble
lords; you have restrained yourself within the
list of
too cold an adieu: be more expressive to
them: for
they wear themselves in the cap of the
time,
there do muster true gait, eat, speak, and
move under
the influence of the most received star;
and though
the devil lead the measure, such are to
be
followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell.
BERTRAM
And I will do so.
PAROLLES
Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.
[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES]
[Enter LAFEU]
LAFEU
[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 cured of your infirmity?
KING
No.
LAFEU
O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox?
Yes, but
you will my noble grapes, an if
My royal
fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine
That's
able to breathe life into a stone,
Quicken a
rock, and make you dance canary
With
spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch,
Is
powerful to araise King Pepin, nay,
To give
great Charlemain a pen in's hand,
And write
to her a love-line.
KING
What 'her' is this?
LAFEU
Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived,
If you
will see her: now, by my faith and honour,
If
seriously I may convey my thoughts
In this my
light deliverance, I have spoke
With one
that, in her sex, her years, profession,
Wisdom and
constancy, hath amazed me more
Than 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 thee
May spend
our wonder too, or take off thine
By
wondering how thou took'st it.
LAFEU
Nay, I'll fit you,
And not be
all day neither.
[Exit]
KING
Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
[Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA]
LAFEU
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 traitors
His
majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle,
That dare
leave two together; fare you well.
[Exit]
KING
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 death
Many
receipts he gave me: chiefly one.
Which, as
the dearest issue of his practise,
And of his
old experience the oily 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'd
With that
malignant cause wherein the honour
Of 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 and
The
congregated college have concluded
That
labouring art can never ransom nature
From her
inaidible estate; I say we must not
So stain
our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
To
prostitute our past-cure malady
To
empirics, or to dissever so
Our great
self and our credit, to esteem
A
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 thoughts
A modest
one, to bear me back a again.
KING
I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful:
Thou
thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give
As 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 finisher
Oft does
them by the weakest minister:
So holy
writ in babes hath judgment shown,
When
judges have been babes; great floods have flown
From
simple sources, and great seas have dried
When
miracles have by the greatest been denied.
Oft
expectation fails and most oft there
Where most
it promises, and oft it hits
Where hope
is coldest and despair most fits.
KING
I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid;
Thy pains
not used 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 when
The 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
Are thou so confident? within what space
Hopest
thou my cure?
HELENA
The great'st grace lending grace
Ere twice
the horses of the sun shall bring
Their
fiery torcher his diurnal ring,
Ere twice
in murk and occidental damp
Moist
Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp,
Or four
and twenty times the pilot's glass
Hath 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 confidence
What
darest thou venture?
HELENA
Tax of impudence,
A
strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame
Traduced
by odious ballads: my maiden's name
Sear'd
otherwise; nay, worse -- if worse -- extended
With
vilest torture let my life be ended.
KING
Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His
powerful sound within an organ weak:
And what
impossibility would slay
In common
sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life
is dear; for all that life can rate
Worth name
of life in thee hath estimate,
Youth,
beauty, wisdom, courage, all
That
happiness and prime can happy call:
Thou this
to hazard needs must intimate
Skill
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 property
Of what I
spoke, unpitied let me die,
And well
deserved: 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 hand
What
husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted
be from me the arrogance
To choose
from forth the royal blood of France,
My low and
humble name to propagate
With any
branch or image of thy state;
But such a
one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free
for me to ask, thee to bestow.
KING
Here is my hand; the premises observed,
Thy will
by my performance shall be served:
So make
the choice of thy own time, for I,
Thy
resolved 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 camest, how tended on: but rest
Unquestion'd
welcome and undoubted blest.
Give me
some help here, ho! If thou proceed
As high as
word, my deed shall match thy meed.
[Flourish. Exeunt]
Scene 2
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Enter COUNTESS and Clown]
COUNTESS
Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of
your
breeding.
Clown
I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught: I
know my
business is but to the court.
COUNTESS
To the court! why, what place make you special,
when you
put off that with such contempt? But to the court!
Clown
Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he
may easily
put it off at court: he that cannot make
a leg, put
off's cap, kiss his hand and say nothing,
has
neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed
such a
fellow, to say precisely, were not for the
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
pin-buttock, 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 your
French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's
rush for
Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove
Tuesday, a
morris for May-day, as the nail to his
hole, the
cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen
to a
wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the
friar's
mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin.
COUNTESS
Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all
questions?
Clown
From below your duke to beneath your constable, it
will fit
any question.
COUNTESS
It must be an answer of most monstrous size that
must fit
all demands.
Clown
But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned
should
speak truth of it: here it is, and all that
belongs
to't. Ask me if 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 in
question,
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, a
hundred 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 whipped, sir, as I think.
Clown
O Lord, sir! spare not me.
COUNTESS
Do you cry, 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and
'spare not
me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very
sequent to
your whipping: you would answer very well
to a
whipping, if you were but bound to't.
Clown
I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord,
sir!' I
see things may serve long, but not serve ever.
COUNTESS
I play the noble housewife with the time
To
entertain't 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 severally]
Scene 3
[Paris. The KING's palace.]
[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES]
LAFEU
They say miracles are past; and we have our
philosophical
persons, to make modern and familiar,
things
supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that
we make
trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves
into
seeming knowledge, when we should submit
ourselves
to an unknown fear.
PAROLLES
Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath
shot out
in our latter times.
BERTRAM
And so 'tis.
LAFEU
To be relinquish'd of the artists, --
PAROLLES
So I say.
LAFEU
Both of Galen and Paracelsus.
PAROLLES
So I say.
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 helped, --
PAROLLES
Right; as 'twere, a man assured 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
shall read
it in -- what do you call there?
LAFEU
A showing of a heavenly effect 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 in
respect --
PAROLLES
Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the
brief and
the tedious of it; and he's of a most
facinerious
spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the --
LAFEU
Very hand of heaven.
PAROLLES
Ay, so I say.
LAFEU
In a most weak --
[pausing]
and debile minister, great power, great
transcendence:
which should, indeed, give us a
further
use to be made than alone the recovery of
the king,
as to be --
[pausing]
generally thankful.
PAROLLES
I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king.
[Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and PAROLLES retire]
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 a coranto.
PAROLLES
Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen?
LAFEU
'Fore God, I think so.
KING
Go, call before me all the lords in court.
Sit, my
preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with
this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast
repeal'd, a second time receive
The
confirmation of my promised gift,
Which but
attends thy naming.
[Enter three or four Lords]
Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel
Of noble
bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O'er whom
both sovereign power and father's voice
I 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 mistress
Fall, when
Love please! marry, to each, but one!
LAFEU
I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture,
My 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 restored the king to health.
All
We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
HELENA
I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest,
That 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 my
life.
HELENA
The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,
Before I
speak, too threateningly replies:
Love make
your fortunes twenty times above
Her 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 have
them whipped; or I would send them to the
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 bed
Find
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: but
if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth
of
fourteen; I have known thee already.
HELENA
[To BERTRAM]
I dare not say I take you; but I give
Me 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 use
The 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 raised me from my sickly bed.
BERTRAM
But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
Must
answer for your raising? I know her well:
She had
her breeding at my father's charge.
A poor
physician's daughter my wife! Disdain
Rather
corrupt me ever!
KING
'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can
build up. Strange is it that our bloods,
Of colour,
weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would
quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In
differences so mighty. If she be
All that
is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,
A poor
physician's daughter, thou dislikest
Of 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 alone
Is 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 scorn,
Which
challenges itself as honour's born
And is not
like the sire: honours thrive,
When
rather from our acts we them derive
Than our
foregoers: the mere word's a slave
Debosh'd
on every tomb, on every grave
A lying
trophy, and as oft is dumb
Where dust
and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of
honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou
canst like this creature as a maid,
I can
create the rest: virtue and she
Is 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 restored, 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 up
My love
and her desert; that canst not dream,
We,
poising us in her defective scale,
Shall
weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
It is in
us to plant thine honour where
We please
to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt:
Obey our
will, which travails in thy good:
Believe
not thy disdain, but presently
Do thine
own fortunes that obedient right
Which both
thy duty owes and our power claims;
Or I will
throw thee from my care for ever
Into the
staggers and the careless lapse
Of youth
and ignorance; both my revenge and hate
Loosing
upon thee, in the name of justice,
Without
all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer.
BERTRAM
Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy
to your eyes: when I consider
What great
creation and what dole of honour
Flies
where you bid it, I find that she, which late
Was in my
nobler thoughts most base, is now
The
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 promise
A
counterpoise, if not to thy estate
A balance
more replete.
BERTRAM
I take her hand.
KING
Good fortune and the favour of the king
Smile upon
this contract; whose ceremony
Shall seem
expedient on the now-born brief,
And be
perform'd to-night: the solemn feast
Shall more
attend upon the coming space,
Expecting
absent friends. As thou lovest her,
Thy love's
to me religious; else, does err.
[Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES]
LAFEU
[Advancing]
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
bloody
succeeding. 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 too old.
LAFEU
I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which
title age
cannot 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
wise
fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy
travel; it
might pass: yet the scarfs and the
bannerets
about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from
believing
thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I
have now
found thee; when I lose thee again, I care
not: yet
art thou good for nothing but taking up; and
that
thou't scarce worth.
PAROLLES
Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee, --
LAFEU
Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou
hasten thy
trial; which if -- Lord have mercy on thee
for a hen!
So, my good window 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, deserved it.
LAFEU
Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not
bate thee
a scruple.
PAROLLES
Well, I shall be wiser.
LAFEU
Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at
a smack o'
the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound
in thy
scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is
to be
proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold
my
acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge,
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
doing
eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by
thee, in
what motion age 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; there is no fettering of authority.
I'll beat
him, by my life, if I can meet him with
any
convenience, an he were double and double a
lord. I'll
have no more pity of his age than I
would of
-- I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
[Re-enter LAFEU]
LAFEU
Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news
for you:
you have a new mistress.
PAROLLES
I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make
some
reservation of your wrongs: he is my good
lord: whom
I serve above is my master.
LAFEU
Who? God?
PAROLLES
Ay, sir.
LAFEU
The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou
garter up
thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of
sleeves?
do other servants so? Thou wert best set
thy lower
part where thy nose stands. By mine
honour, if
I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat
thee:
methinks, thou art a general offence, and
every man
should beat thee: I think thou wast
created
for men to breathe themselves upon thee.
PAROLLES
This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
LAFEU
Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a
kernel out
of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and
no true
traveller: you are more saucy with lords
and
honourable personages than the commission of your
birth and
virtue gives you heraldry. You are not
worth
another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you.
[Exit]
PAROLLES
Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good;
let it be
concealed awhile.
[Re-enter BERTRAM]
BERTRAM
Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
PAROLLES
What's the matter, sweet-heart?
BERTRAM
Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
I will not
bed her.
PAROLLES
What, what, sweet-heart?
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 merits
The tread
of a man's foot: to the wars!
BERTRAM
There's letters from my mother: what the import is,
I know not
yet.
PAROLLES
Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
He wears
his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs
his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending
his manly marrow in her arms,
Which
should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's
fiery steed. To other regions
France is
a stable; we that dwell in't jades;
Therefore,
to the 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 king
That which
I durst not speak; his present gift
Shall
furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where
noble fellows strike: war is no strife
To 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-morrow
I'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 palace.]
[Enter HELENA and Clown]
HELENA
My mother greets me kindly; is she well?
Clown
She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's
very
merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be
given,
she's very well and wants nothing i', the
world; but
yet she is not well.
HELENA
If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's
not very
well?
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 PAROLLES]
PAROLLES
Bless you, my fortunate lady!
HELENA
I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own
good
fortunes.
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
she did as you say.
PAROLLES
Why, I say nothing.
Clown
Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's
tongue
shakes out his master's undoing: to say
nothing,
to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have
nothing,
is to be a great part of your title; which
is within
a very little of nothing.
PAROLLES
Away! thou'rt a knave.
Clown
You should have said, sir, before a knave thou'rt a
knave;
that's, before me thou'rt 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
find me? The search, sir, was profitable;
and much
fool may you find in you, even to the
world's
pleasure and the increase of laughter.
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 joy
And
pleasure drown the brim.
HELENA
What's his will else?
PAROLLES
That you will take your instant leave o' the king
And make
this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthen'd
with what apology you think
May make
it probable need.
HELENA
What more commands he?
PAROLLES
That, having this obtain'd, you presently
Attend his
further pleasure.
HELENA
In every thing I wait upon his will.
PAROLLES
I shall report it so.
HELENA
I pray you.
[Exit PAROLLES]
Come, sirrah.
[Exeunt]
Scene 5
[Paris. The KING's palace.]
[Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM]
LAFEU
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 sinned against his experience and
transgressed
against his valour; and my state that
way is
dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my
heart to
repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make
us
friends; I will pursue the amity.
[Enter PAROLLES]
PAROLLES
[To BERTRAM]
These things shall be done, sir.
LAFEU
Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?
PAROLLES
Sir?
LAFEU
O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good
workman, a
very 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 a thousand 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's
displeasure.
LAFEU
You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs
and all,
like him that leaped into the custard; and
out of it
you'll run again, 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 no kernel in this light nut; the
soul of
this man is his clothes. Trust him not in
matter of
heavy consequence; I have kept of them
tame, and
know their natures. Farewell, monsieur:
I have
spoken better of you than you have or will to
deserve at
my hand; but we must do good against evil.
[Exit]
PAROLLES
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 speech
Gives him
a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
[Enter HELENA]
HELENA
I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with
the king and have procured his leave
For
present parting; only he desires
Some
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 does
The
ministration and required office
On my
particular. Prepared I was not
For such a
business; therefore am I found
So much
unsettled: this drives me to entreat you
That
presently you take our 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 need
Greater
than shows itself at the first view
To you
that know them not. This to my mother:
[Giving a letter]
'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so
I leave
you to your wisdom.
HELENA
Sir, I can nothing say,
But 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 that
Wherein
toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To 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 steal
What 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 come
Whilst I
can shake my sword or hear the drum.
Away, and
for our flight.
PAROLLES
Bravely, coragio!
[Exeunt]
Act 3
Scene 1
[Florence. The DUKE's palace.]
[Flourish.]
[Enter the DUKE of Florence attended; the two Frenchmen, with a
troop of soldiers.]
DUKE
So that from point to point now have you heard
The
fundamental reasons of this war,
Whose
great decision hath much blood let forth
And more
thirsts after.
First Lord
Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your
grace's part; black and fearful
On the
opposer.
DUKE
Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
Would in
so just a business shut his bosom
Against
our borrowing prayers.
Second
Lord
Good my lord,
The
reasons of our state I cannot yield,
But like a
common and an outward man,
That the
great figure of a council frames
By
self-unable motion: therefore dare not
\Say what
I think of it, since I have found
Myself in
my incertain grounds to fail
As 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 day
Come here
for physic.
DUKE
Welcome shall they be;
And all
the honours that can fly from us
Shall on
them settle. You know your places well;
When
better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow
to the field.
[Flourish. Exeunt]
Scene 2
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Enter COUNTESS and Clown]
COUNTESS
It hath happened all as I would have had it, save
that he
comes not along with her.
Clown
By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very
melancholy
man.
COUNTESS
By what observance, I pray you?
Clown
Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the
ruff and
sing; ask questions and sing; pick his
teeth and
sing. I know a man that had this trick of
melancholy
sold a goodly manor for a song.
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 ling
and our Isbels o' the country are nothing
like your
old ling and your Isbels o' the court:
the brains
of my Cupid's knocked 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 hath
recovered
the king, and undone me. I have wedded
her, not
bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not'
eternal.
You shall hear I am run away: know it
before the
report come. If there be breadth enough
in 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 head
By the
misprising of a maid too virtuous
For the
contempt of empire.
[Re-enter Clown]
Clown
O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two
soldiers
and my young lady!
COUNTESS
What is the matter?
Clown
Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
comfort;
your son will not be killed so soon as I
thought he
would.
COUNTESS
Why should he be killed?
Clown
So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does:
the danger
is in standing to't; that's the loss of
men,
though it be the getting of children. Here
they come
will tell you more: for my part, I only
hear your
son was run away.
[Exit]
[Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen]
First
Gentleman
Save you, good madam.
HELENA
Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
Second
Gentleman
Do not say so.
COUNTESS
Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,
I have
felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
That the
first face of neither, on the start,
Can woman
me unto't: where is my son, I pray you?
Second
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 his letter, madam; here's my passport.
[Reads]
When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which
never
shall come off, and show me a child begotten
of thy
body that I am father to, then call me
husband:
but in such a 'then' I write 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 pain.
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?
Second
Gentleman
Ay, madam.
COUNTESS
And to be a soldier?
Second
Gentleman
Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't,
The duke
will lay upon him all the honour
That good
convenience claims.
COUNTESS
Return you thither?
First
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.
First
Gentleman
'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his
heart was
not consenting to.
COUNTESS
Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
There's
nothing here that is too good for him
But only
she; and she deserves a lord
That
twenty such rude boys might tend upon
And call
her hourly mistress. Who was with him?
First
Gentleman
A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I
have sometime known.
COUNTESS
Parolles, was it not?
First
Gentleman
Ay, my good lady, he.
COUNTESS
A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
My son
corrupts a well-derived nature
With his
inducement.
First
Gentleman
Indeed, good lady,
The fellow
has a deal of that too much,
Which
holds him much to have.
COUNTESS
You're welcome, gentlemen.
I will
entreat you, when you see my son,
To tell
him that his sword can never win
The honour
that he loses: more I'll entreat you
Written to
bear along.
Second
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 Gentlemen]
HELENA
'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 France;
Then hast
thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
That chase
thee from thy country and expose
Those
tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the
none-sparing war? and is it I
That drive
thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot
at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky
muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride
upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with
false aim; move the still-peering 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 cause
His death
was so effected: better 'twere
I met the
ravin lion when he roar'd
With sharp
constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That all
the miseries which nature owes
Were 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, although
The air of
paradise did fan the house
And angels
officed all: I will be gone,
That
pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To
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 palace.]
[Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, PAROLLES,
Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets]
DUKE
The general of our horse thou art; and we,
Great in
our hope, lay our best love and credence
Upon thy
promising fortune.
BERTRAM
Sir, it is
A charge
too heavy for my strength, but yet
We'll
strive to bear it for your worthy sake
To the
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 prove
A lover of
thy drum, hater of love.
[Exeunt]
Scene 4
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Enter COUNTESS and Steward]
COUNTESS
Alas! and would you take the letter of her?
Might you
not know she would do as she has done,
By sending
me a letter? Read it again.
Steward
[Reads]
I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious
love hath so in me offended,
That
barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
With
sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write,
write, that from the bloody course of war
My dearest
master, your dear son, may hie:
Bless him
at home in peace, whilst I from far
His name
with zealous fervor sanctify:
His taken
labours bid him me forgive;
I, his
despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From
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 much,
As 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'erta'en; and yet she writes,
Pursuit
would be but vain.
COUNTESS
What angel shall
Bless this
unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
Unless her
prayers, whom heaven delights to hear
And loves
to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of
greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this
unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every
word weigh heavy of her worth
That 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 both
Is dearest
to me. I have no skill in sense
To 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
[Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off.]
[Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, and MARIANA,
with other Citizens]
Widow
Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we
shall lose
all the sight.
DIANA
They say the French count has done most honourable service.
Widow
It is reported that he has taken their greatest
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!
you may know by their trumpets.
MARIANA
Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with
the report
of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this
French
earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and
no legacy
is so rich as honesty.
Widow
I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited
by a
gentleman his companion.
MARIANA
I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a
filthy
officer he is in those suggestions for the
young
earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises,
enticements,
oaths, tokens, and all these engines of
lust, are
not the things they go under: many a maid
hath been
seduced by them; and the misery is,
example,
that so terrible shows in the wreck of
maidenhood,
cannot for all that dissuade succession,
but that
they are limed with the twigs that threaten
them. I
hope I need not to advise you further; but
I hope
your own grace will keep you where you are,
though
there were no further danger known but the
modesty
which is so lost.
DIANA
You shall not need to fear me.
Widow
I hope so.
[Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim]
Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at
my house;
thither they send one another: I'll
question
her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you 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?
Widow
Ay, marry, is't.
[A march afar]
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 lodged;
The
rather, for I think I know your hostess
As 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 yours
That 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
Whatsome'er he is,
He's
bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis
reported, for the king had married him
Against
his liking: think you it is so?
HELENA
Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.
DIANA
There is a gentleman that serves the count
Reports
but coarsely of her.
HELENA
What's his name?
DIANA
Monsieur Parolles.
HELENA
O, I believe with him,
In
argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the
great count himself, she is too mean
To have
her name repeated: all her deserving
Is a
reserved honesty, and that
I have not
heard examined.
DIANA
Alas, poor lady!
'Tis a
hard bondage to become the wife
Of a
detesting lord.
Widow
I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
Her heart
weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
A shrewd
turn, if she pleased.
HELENA
How do you mean?
May be the
amorous count solicits her
In the
unlawful purpose.
Widow
He does indeed;
And brokes
with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt
the tender honour of a maid:
But she is
arm'd for him and keeps her guard
In
honestest defence.
MARIANA
The gods forbid else!
Widow
So, now they come:
[Drum and Colours]
[Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army]
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
That,
Escalus.
HELENA
Which is the Frenchman?
DIANA
He;
That with
the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.
I would he
loved his wife: if he were honester
He were
much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?
HELENA
I like him well.
DIANA
'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave
That leads
him to these places: were I his lady,
I would
Poison that vile rascal.
HELENA
Which is he?
DIANA
That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?
HELENA
Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.
PAROLLES
Lose our drum! well.
MARIANA
He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.
Widow
Marry, hang you!
MARIANA
And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!
[Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army]
Widow
The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you
Where you
shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
There's
four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at
my house.
HELENA
I humbly thank you:
Please it
this matron and this gentle maid
To eat
with us to-night, the charge and thanking
Shall be
for me; and, to requite you further,
I will
bestow some precepts of this virgin
Worthy the
note.
BOTH
We'll take your offer kindly.
[Exeunt]
Scene 6
[Camp before Florence.]
[Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords]
Second
Lord
Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his
way.
First Lord
If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no
more in
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 a most notable coward, an infinite and
endless
liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner
of no one
good quality worthy your lordship's
entertainment.
First Lord
It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in
his
virtue, which he hath not, he might at some
great and
trusty business 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,
which you
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 other but that he
is carried
into the leaguer of the adversaries, when
we bring
him to our own tents. Be but your lordship
present at
his examination: if he do not, for the
promise of
his life and in the highest compulsion of
base fear,
offer to betray you and deliver all the
intelligence
in his power against you, and that with
the divine
forfeit of his soul upon oath, never
trust my
judgment in any thing.
First Lord
O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum;
he says he
has a stratagem for't: when your
lordship
sees the bottom of his success in't, and to
what metal
this counterfeit lump of ore will be
melted, if
you give him not John Drum's
entertainment,
your inclining cannot be removed.
Here he
comes.
[Enter PAROLLES]
Second
Lord
[Aside to BERTRAM]
O, for the love of laughter,
hinder not
the honour of his 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 was
excellent command, -- to charge in with our
horse upon
our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers!
First Lord
That was not to be blamed in the command of the
service:
it was a disaster of war that Caesar
himself
could not have prevented, if he had been
there to
command.
BERTRAM
Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some
dishonour
we had in the loss of that drum; but it is
not to be
recovered.
PAROLLES
It might have been recovered.
BERTRAM
It might; but it is not now.
PAROLLES
It is to be recovered: but that the merit of
service is
seldom attributed to the true and exact
performer,
I would have that drum or another, or
'hic
jacet.'
BERTRAM
Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if you
think your
mystery in stratagem can bring this
instrument
of honour again into his native quarter,
be
magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will
grace the
attempt for a worthy exploit: if you
speed well
in it, the duke shall both speak of it.
and extend
to you what further becomes his
greatness,
even to the utmost syllable of your
worthiness.
PAROLLES
By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.
BERTRAM
But you must not now slumber in it.
PAROLLES
I'll about it this evening: and I will presently
pen down
my dilemmas, encourage myself in my
certainty,
put myself into my mortal preparation;
and by
midnight look to hear further from me.
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
the
attempt I vow.
BERTRAM
I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of
thy
soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
PAROLLES
I love not many words.
[Exit]
Second
Lord
No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a
strange
fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems
to
undertake this business, which he knows is not to
be done;
damns himself to do and dares better be
damned
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 week
escape 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 that
so seriously he does address himself unto?
Second
Lord
None in the world; but return with an invention and
clap upon
you two or three probable lies: but we
have
almost embossed him; you shall see his fall
to-night;
for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect.
First Lord
We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case
him. He
was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu:
when his
disguise and he is parted, tell me what a
sprat you
shall find him; which you shall 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.
[Exit]
BERTRAM
Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
The 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' the 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 house.]
[Enter HELENA and Widow]
HELENA
If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
I know not
how I shall assure you further,
But I
shall lose the grounds I work upon.
Widow
Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
Nothing
acquainted with these businesses;
And would
not put my reputation now
In 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 spoken
Is 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 approves
You're
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 again
When I
have found it. The count he wooes your daughter,
Lays down
his wanton siege before her beauty,
Resolved
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 deny
That
she'll demand: a ring the county wears,
That
downward hath succeeded in his house
From son
to son, some four or five descents
Since the
first father wore it: this ring he holds
In 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 see
The bottom
of your purpose.
HELENA
You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
But 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 crowns
To what is
passed already.
Widow
I have yielded:
Instruct
my daughter how she shall persever,
That time
and place with this deceit so lawful
May prove
coherent. Every night he comes
With
musics of all sorts and songs composed
To her
unworthiness: it nothing steads us
To chide
him from our eaves; for he persists
As if his
life lay on't.
HELENA
Why then to-night
Let 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 4
Scene 1
[Without the Florentine camp.]
[Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other Soldiers in
ambush]
Second
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 must not seem to
understand
him, unless some one among us whom we
must
produce for an interpreter.
First
Soldier
Good captain, let me be the 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 hast 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' the
adversary's
entertainment. Now he hath a smack of
all
neighbouring languages; therefore we must every
one be a
man of his own fancy, not to know what we
speak one
to another; so we seem 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 two hours in a sleep,
and then
to return and swear the lies he forges.
[Enter PAROLLES]
PAROLLES
Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be
time
enough to go home. What shall I say I have
done? It
must be a very plausive invention that
carries
it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces
have of
late knocked too often at my door. I find
my tongue
is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the
fear of
Mars before it and of his creatures, not
daring the
reports of my tongue.
Second
Lord
This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue
was guilty
of.
PAROLLES
What the devil should move me to undertake the
recovery
of this drum, being not ignorant of the
impossibility,
and knowing I had no such purpose? I
must give
myself some hurts, and say I got them in
exploit:
yet slight ones will not carry it; they
will say,
'Came you off with so little?' and great
ones I
dare not give. Wherefore, what's the
instance?
Tongue, I must put you into a
butter-woman's
mouth and buy myself another of
Bajazet's
mule, if you prattle me into these perils.
Second
Lord
Is it possible he should know what he is, and be
that he
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 in
stratagem.
Second
Lord
'Twould not do.
PAROLLES
Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
Second
Lord
Hardly serve.
PAROLLES
Though I swore I leaped 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
I
recovered it.
Second
Lord
You shall hear one anon.
PAROLLES
A drum now of the enemy's, --
[Alarum within]
Second
Lord
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
All
Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.
PAROLLES
O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes.
[They seize and 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
thy
tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy
faith, for
seventeen 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 on
To gather
from thee: haply thou mayst inform
Something
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 that
Which 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, with PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within]
Second
Lord
Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,
We have
caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled
Till 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 house.]
[Enter BERTRAM and DIANA]
BERTRAM
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 quick
fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no
maiden, but a monument:
When you
are dead, you should be such a one
As you are
now, for you are cold and stem;
And now
you should be as your mother was
When 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 thee
By love's
own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee
all rights of service.
DIANA
Ay, so you serve us
Till we
serve you; but when you have our roses,
You 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 God's great attributes,
I loved
you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did
love you ill? This has no holding,
To swear
by him whom I protest to love,
That I
will work against him: therefore your oaths
Are 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 crafts
That you
do charge men with. Stand no more off,
But give
thyself unto my sick desires,
Who then
recover: say thou art mine, and ever
My love as
it begins shall so persever.
DIANA
I see that men make ropes in such a scarre
That we'll
forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
BERTRAM
I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power
To 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' the world
In 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' the world
In me to
lose: thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in
the champion Honour on my part,
Against
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 them
When back
again this ring shall be deliver'd:
And on
your finger in the night I'll put
Another
ring, that what in time proceeds
May token
to the future our past deeds.
Adieu,
till then; then, fail not. You have won
A 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 men
Have the
like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
When his
wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him
When 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 sin
To cozen
him that would unjustly win.
[Exit]
Scene 3
[The Florentine camp.]
[Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers]
First Lord
You have not given him his mother's letter?
Second
Lord
I have delivered it an hour since: there is
something
in't that stings his nature; for on the
reading it
he changed almost into another man.
First Lord
He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking
off so
good a wife and so sweet a lady.
Second
Lord
Especially he hath incurred the everlasting
displeasure
of the king, who had even tuned his
bounty to
sing happiness to him. I will tell you a
thing, but
you shall let it dwell darkly with you.
First Lord
When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the
grave of
it.
Second
Lord
He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in
Florence,
of a most chaste renown; and this night he
fleshes
his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath
given her
his monumental ring, and thinks himself
made in
the unchaste composition.
First Lord
Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves,
what
things are we!
Second
Lord
Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course
of all
treasons, we still see them reveal
themselves,
till they attain to their abhorred ends,
so he that
in this action contrives against his own
nobility,
in his proper stream o'erflows himself.
First Lord
Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of
our
unlawful intents? We shall not then have his
company
to-night?
Second
Lord
Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.
First Lord
That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see
his
company anatomized, that he might take a measure
of his own
judgments, wherein so curiously he had
set this
counterfeit.
Second
Lord
We will not meddle with him till he come; for his
presence
must be the whip of the other.
First Lord
In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?
Second
Lord
I hear there is an overture of peace.
First Lord
Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
Second
Lord
What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel
higher, or
return again into France?
First Lord
I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether
of his
council.
Second
Lord
Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal
of his
act.
First Lord
Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his
house: her
pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques
le Grand;
which holy undertaking with most austere
sanctimony
she accomplished; and, there residing the
tenderness
of her nature became as a prey to her
grief; in
fine, made a groan of her last breath, and
now she
sings in heaven.
Second
Lord
How is this justified?
First Lord
The stronger part of it by her own letters, which
makes her
story true, even to the point of her
death: her
death itself, which could not be her
office to
say is come, was faithfully confirmed by
the rector
of the place.
Second
Lord
Hath the count all this intelligence?
First Lord
Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from
point, so
to the full arming of the verity.
Second
Lord
I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.
First Lord
How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!
Second
Lord
And how mightily some other times we drown our gain
in tears!
The great dignity that his valour hath
here
acquired for him shall at home be encountered
with a
shame as ample.
First Lord
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and
ill
together: our virtues would be proud, if our
faults
whipped them not; and our crimes would
despair,
if they were not cherished by our virtues.
[Enter a Messenger]
How now! where's your master?
Servant
He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath
taken a
solemn leave: his lordship will next
morning
for France. The duke hath offered him
letters of
commendations to the king.
Second
Lord
They shall be no more than needful there, if they
were more
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 dispatched sixteen businesses, a
month's
length a-piece, by an abstract of success:
I have
congied with the duke, done my adieu with his
nearest;
buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my
lady
mother I am returning; entertained my convoy;
and
between these main parcels of dispatch effected
many nicer
needs; the last was the greatest, but
that I
have not ended yet.
Second
Lord
If the business be of any difficulty, and this
morning
your departure hence, it requires haste of
your
lordship.
BERTRAM
I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to
hear of it
hereafter. But shall we have this
dialogue
between the fool and the soldier? Come,
bring
forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived
me, like a
double-meaning prophesier.
Second
Lord
Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night,
poor
gallant knave.
BERTRAM
No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping
his spurs
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
like a wench that had shed her milk: he
hath
confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes
to be a
friar, from the time of his remembrance to
this very
instant disaster of his setting i' the
stocks:
and what think you he hath confessed?
BERTRAM
Nothing of me, has a'?
Second
Lord
His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his
face: if
your lordship be in't, as I believe you
are, you
must have the patience to hear it.
[Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier]
BERTRAM
A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of
me: hush,
hush!
First Lord
Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa
First
Soldier
He calls for the tortures: what will you say
without
'em?
PAROLLES
I will confess what I know without constraint: if
ye pinch
me like a pasty, I can say no more.
First
Soldier
Bosko chimurcho.
First Lord
Boblibindo chicurmurco.
First
Soldier
You are a merciful general. Our general bids you
answer to
what I shall ask you out of a note.
PAROLLES
And truly, as I hope to live.
First
Soldier
[Reads]
'First demand of him how many horse the
duke is
strong.' What say you to that?
PAROLLES
Five or six thousand; but very weak and
unserviceable:
the troops are all scattered, and
the
commanders very poor rogues, 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 you will.
BERTRAM
All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!
First Lord
You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur
Parolles,
the gallant militarist, -- that was his own
phrase, --
that had the whole theoric of war in the
knot of
his scarf, and the practise in the chape of
his
dagger.
Second
Lord
I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword
clean. nor
believe he can have every thing in him
by wearing
his apparel neatly.
First
Soldier
Well, that's set down.
PAROLLES
Five or six thousand horse, I said, -- I will say
true, --
or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth.
First 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 are
marvellous poor.
First
Soldier
[Reads]
'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, I
will 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 and fifty each; mine own
company,
Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and
fifty
each: so that the muster-file, rotten and
sound,
upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand
poll; half
of the which dare not shake snow from off
their
cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.
BERTRAM
What shall be done to him?
First Lord
Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my
condition,
and what credit I have with the duke.
First
Soldier
Well, that's set down.
[Reads]
'You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain
be i' the
camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is
with the
duke; what his valour, honesty, and
expertness
in wars; or whether he thinks it were not
possible,
with well-weighing sums of gold, to
corrupt
him to revolt.' What say you to this? what
do you
know of it?
PAROLLES
I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of
the
inter'gatories: demand them singly.
First
Soldier
Do you know this Captain Dumain?
PAROLLES
I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris,
from
whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's
fool with
child, -- a dumb innocent, that could not
say him
nay.
BERTRAM
Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know
his brains
are forfeit to the next tile that falls.
First
Soldier
Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?
PAROLLES
Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.
First Lord
Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your
lordship
anon.
First
Soldier
What is his reputation with the duke?
PAROLLES
The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer
of mine;
and writ to me this other day to turn him
out o' the
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 it is
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.
First Lord
Excellently.
First
Soldier
[Reads]
'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,' --
PAROLLES
That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an
advertisement
to a proper maid in Florence, one
Diana, to
take heed of the allurement of one Count
Rousillon,
a foolish idle boy, but for all that very
ruttish: I
pray you, sir, put it up again.
First
Soldier
Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour.
PAROLLES
My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the
behalf of
the maid; for I knew the young count to be
a
dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to
virginity
and devours up all the 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 vowed to thee in thine ear,
PAROLLES.'
BERTRAM
He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme
in's
forehead.
Second
Lord
This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold
linguist
and the armipotent soldier.
BERTRAM
I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now
he's a cat
to me.
First
Soldier
I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be
fain 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
the remainder of nature: let me live,
sir, in a
dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, 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
answered to his reputation with the duke and to
his
valour: what is his honesty?
PAROLLES
He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for
rapes and
ravishments he parallels Nessus: he
professes
not keeping of oaths; 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; and in his sleep he does little
harm, save
to his bed-clothes about him; but they
know his
conditions and lay him in straw. I have but
little
more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has
every
thing that an honest man should not have; what
an honest
man should have, he has nothing.
First Lord
I begin to love him for this.
BERTRAM
For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon
him for
me, he's more and more a cat.
First
Soldier
What say you to his expertness in war?
PAROLLES
Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English
tragedians;
to belie him, I will not, and more of
his
soldiership I know not; except, in that country
he had the
honour to be the officer at a place there
called
Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of
files: I
would do the man what honour I can, but of
this I am
not certain.
First Lord
He hath out-villained villany so far, that the
rarity
redeems him.
BERTRAM
A pox on him, he's a cat still.
First
Soldier
His qualities being at this poor price, I need not
to ask you
if gold will corrupt him to revolt.
PAROLLES
Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple
of his
salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the
entail
from all remainders, and a perpetual
succession
for it perpetually.
First
Soldier
What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?
Second
Lord
Why does be ask him of me?
First
Soldier
What's he?
PAROLLES
E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so
great as
the first in goodness, but greater a great
deal in
evil: he excels his brother for a coward,
yet his
brother is reputed one of 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 betray
the
Florentine?
PAROLLES
Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon.
First
Soldier
I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.
PAROLLES
[Aside]
I'll no more drumming; a plague of all
drums!
Only to seem to deserve well, and to
beguile
the supposition of that 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
discovered
the secrets of your army and made such
pestiferous
reports of men very nobly held, can
serve the
world for no honest use; therefore you
must die.
Come, headsman, off with his head.
PAROLLES
O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!
First Lord
That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.
[Unblinding him]
So, look about you: know you any here?
BERTRAM
Good morrow, noble captain.
Second
Lord
God bless you, Captain Parolles.
First Lord
God save you, noble captain.
Second
Lord
Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu?
I am for
France.
First Lord
Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet
you writ
to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon?
an I were
not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you:
but fare
you well.
[Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords]
First
Soldier
You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that
has a knot
on't yet
PAROLLES
Who cannot be crushed with a plot?
First
Soldier
If you could find out a country where but women were
that had
received so much shame, you might begin an
impudent
nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France
too: we
shall speak of you there.
[Exit with Soldiers]
PAROLLES
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 soft
As captain
shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make
me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him
fear this, for it will come to pass
that every
braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust,
sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
Safest in
shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's
place and means for every man alive.
I'll after
them.
[Exit]
Scene 4
[Florence. The Widow's house.]
[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA]
HELENA
That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you,
One of the
greatest in the Christian world
Shall 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 gratitude
Through
flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth,
And
answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd
His grace
is at Marseilles; to which place
We have
convenient convoy. You must know
I 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 trust
Your
business was more welcome.
HELENA
Nor you, mistress,
Ever a
friend whose thoughts more truly labour
To
recompense your love: doubt not but heaven
Hath
brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath
fated her to be my motive
And 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 thoughts
Defiles
the pitchy night: so lust doth play
With what
it loathes for that which is away.
But more
of this hereafter. You, Diana,
Under my
poor instructions yet must suffer
Something
in my behalf.
DIANA
Let death and honesty
Go with
your impositions, I am yours
Upon 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 thorns,
And be as
sweet as sharp. We must away;
Our wagon
is prepared, 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 palace.]
[Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown]
LAFEU
No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta
fellow
there, whose villanous saffron would have
made all
the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in
his
colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at
this hour,
and your son here at home, more advanced
by the
king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.
COUNTESS
I would I had not known him; it was the death of the
most
virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had
praise for
creating. If she had partaken of my
flesh, and
cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I
could not
have owed her a more rooted love.
LAFEU
'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a
thousand
salads ere we light on such another herb.
Clown
Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the
salad, or
rather, the herb of grace.
LAFEU
They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.
Clown
I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much
skill in
grass.
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 a
prince as you are.
LAFEU
Who's that? a Frenchman?
Clown
Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy
is more
hotter 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 suggest
thee from thy master thou talkest 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, he is the prince of the
world; let
his nobility remain in's court. I am for
the house
with the narrow gate, which I take to be
too little
for pomp to enter: some that humble
themselves
may; but the many will be too chill and
tender,
and they'll be for the flowery 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 thee
so before, because I would not fall out
with thee.
Go thy ways: let my horses be well
looked 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.
[Exit]
LAFEU
A shrewd knave and an unhappy.
COUNTESS
So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much
sport out
of him: by his authority he remains here,
which he
thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and,
indeed, he
has no pace, but runs where he will.
LAFEU
I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to
tell you,
since I heard of the good lady's death and
that my
lord your son was upon his return home, I
moved the
king my master to speak in the behalf of
my
daughter; which, in the minority of them both,
his
majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did
first
propose: his highness hath promised me to do
it: and,
to stop up the displeasure he hath
conceived
against your son, there is no fitter
matter.
How does your ladyship like it?
COUNTESS
With very much content, my lord; and I wish it
happily
effected.
LAFEU
His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able
body as
when he numbered thirty: he will be here
to-morrow,
or I am deceived by him that in such
intelligence
hath seldom failed.
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 beseech your lordship to remain
with me
till they meet together.
LAFEU
Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might
safely be
admitted.
COUNTESS
You need but plead your honourable privilege.
LAFEU
Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I
thank my
God it holds yet.
[Re-enter Clown]
Clown
O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of
velvet
on's face: whether there be a scar under't
or no, the
velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of
velvet:
his left cheek is a cheek 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 livery
of honour;
so belike is that.
Clown
But it is your carbonadoed 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 and
most courteous feathers, which bow the head
and nod at
every man.
[Exeunt]
Act 5
Scene 1
[Marseilles. A street.]
[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants]
HELENA
But this exceeding posting day and night
Must 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 requital
As nothing
can unroot you. In happy time;
[Enter a Gentleman]
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 fallen
From the
report that goes upon your goodness;
An
therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
Which lay
nice manners by, I put you to
The use of
your own virtues, for the which
I shall
continue thankful.
Gentleman
What's your will?
HELENA
That it will please you
To give
this poor petition to the king,
And aid me
with that store of power you have
To come
into his presence.
Gentleman
The king's not here.
HELENA
Not here, sir!
Gentleman
Not, indeed:
He hence
removed last night and with more haste
Than 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 speed
Our 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. Before the COUNT's palace.]
[Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following]
PAROLLES
Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this
letter: I
have ere now, sir, been better known to
you, when
I have held familiarity with fresher
clothes;
but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's
mood, and
smell somewhat strong of her strong
displeasure.
Clown
Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it
smell so
strongly as thou speakest of: I will
henceforth
eat no fish of fortune's buttering.
Prithee,
allow the wind.
PAROLLES
Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake
but by a
metaphor.
Clown
Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my
nose; or
against 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-stool
to give to a nobleman! Look, here he
comes
himself.
[Enter LAFEU]
Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's
cat, --
but not a musk-cat, -- that has fallen into the
unclean
fishpond of her displeasure, 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
distress
in my similes of comfort and leave him to
your
lordship.
[Exit]
PAROLLES
My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
scratched.
LAFEU
And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to
pare her
nails now. Wherein have you played the
knave with
fortune, that she should scratch you, who
of herself
is a good lady and would not have knaves
thrive
long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for
you: let
the justices make you and fortune friends:
I am for
other 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 your
word.
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,
for you
did bring me out.
LAFEU
Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once
both the
office of God and the devil? One brings
thee in
grace and the other brings thee out.
[Trumpets sound]
The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah,
inquire
further after me; I had talk of you last
night:
though you are a fool and a knave, you shall
eat; go
to, follow.
PAROLLES
I praise God for you.
[Exeunt]
Scene 3
[Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.]
[Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two French Lords, with
Attendants]
KING
We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
Was made
much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in
folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her
estimation home.
COUNTESS
'Tis past, my liege;
And I
beseech your majesty to make it
Natural
rebellion, done i' the 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 him,
And
watch'd the time to shoot.
LAFEU
This I must say,
But first
I beg my pardon, the young lord
Did to his
majesty, his mother and his lady
Offence of
mighty note; but to himself
The
greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
Whose
beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest
eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
Whose dear
perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly
call'd mistress.
KING
Praising what is lost
Makes the
remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;
We are
reconciled, and the first view shall kill
All
repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
The nature
of his great offence is dead,
And deeper
than oblivion we do bury
The
incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A
stranger, no offender; and inform him
So 'tis
our will he should.
Gentleman
I shall, my liege.
[Exit]
KING
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 me
That set
him high in fame.
[Enter BERTRAM]
LAFEU
He looks well on't.
KING
I am not a day of season,
For thou
mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at
once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted
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 decrees
The
inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere
we can effect them. You remember
The
daughter of this lord?
BERTRAM
Admiringly, my liege, at first
I stuck my
choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make
too bold a 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 stolen;
Extended
or contracted all proportions
To a most
hideous object: thence it came
That she
whom all men praised and whom myself,
Since I
have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
The dust
that did offend it.
KING
Well excused:
That thou
didst love her, strikes some scores away
From 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 faults
Make
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
shame full late 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 stay
To 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 name
Must 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 every
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 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 Helen,
I bade
her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied
to help, that by this token
I would
relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave
her
Of 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 it
At her
life's rate.
LAFEU
I am sure I saw her wear it.
BERTRAM
You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it:
In
Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in
a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her
that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood
engaged: but when I had subscribed
To mine
own fortune and inform'd her fully
I could
not answer in that course of honour
As she had
made the overture, she ceased
In heavy
satisfaction and would never
Receive
the ring again.
KING
Plutus himself,
That knows
the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not
in nature's mystery more science
Than I
have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever
gave it you. Then, if you know
That you
are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess
'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it
from her: she call'd the saints to surety
That she
would never put it from her finger,
Unless she
gave it to yourself in bed,
Where you
have never come, or sent it us
Upon her
great disaster.
BERTRAM
She never saw it.
KING
Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;
And makest
conjectural fears to come into me
Which I
would fain shut out. If it should prove
That 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 close
Her eyes
myself, could win me to believe,
More 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 prove
This ring
was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that
I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet
she never was.
[Exit, guarded]
KING
I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
[Enter a Gentleman]
Gentleman
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 short
To tender
it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd
thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the
poor suppliant, who by this I know
Is here
attending: her business looks in her
With an
importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet
verbal brief, it did concern
Your
highness with herself.
KING
[Reads]
Upon his many protestations to marry me
when his
wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won
me. Now is
the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows
are
forfeited to me, and my honour'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 poor maid 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 discovery. Seek these suitors:
Go
speedily and bring again the count.
I am
afeard the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully
snatch'd.
COUNTESS
Now, justice on the doers!
[Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded]
KING
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 DIANA]
What 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 honour
Both
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 deny
But 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 yours,
That she
which marries you must marry me,
Either
both or none.
LAFEU
Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you
are no
husband for her.
BERTRAM
My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom
sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness
Lay a more
noble thought upon mine honour
Than for
to think that I would sink it here.
KING
Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
Till 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 think
He 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 so,
He might
have bought me at a common price:
Do not
believe him. O, behold this ring,
Whose high
respect and rich validity
Did lack a
parallel; yet for all that
He gave it
to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be
one.
COUNTESS
He blushes, and 'tis it:
Of six
preceding ancestors, that gem,
Conferr'd
by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it
been owed 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 produce
So 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 Attendant]
BERTRAM
What of him?
He's
quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all
the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd;
Whose
nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am I or
that or this for what he'll utter,
That will
speak any thing?
KING
She hath that ring of yours.
BERTRAM
I think she has: certain it is I liked her,
And
boarded her i' the 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 course
Are
motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Her
infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
Subdued me
to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had
that which any inferior might
At
market-price have bought.
DIANA
I must be patient:
You, that
have turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May 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 like
The 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 him
Out of a
casement.
DIANA
I have spoke the truth.
[Enter PAROLLES]
BERTRAM
My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
KING
You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars 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
honourable
gentleman: tricks he hath had in him,
which
gentlemen have.
KING
Come, come, to the 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 loved her, sir, and loved 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 promised me marriage?
PAROLLES
Faith, I know more than I'll speak.
KING
But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?
PAROLLES
Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them,
as I said;
but more than that, he loved her: for
indeed he
was mad for her, and talked of Satan and
of Limbo
and of Furies and I know not what: yet I
was in
that credit with them at that time that I
knew of
their going to bed, and of other motions,
as
promising her marriage, and things which would
derive me
ill will to speak of; therefore I will not
speak what
I know.
KING
Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say
they are
married: but thou art too fine in thy
evidence;
therefore stand aside.
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 off
and on at
pleasure.
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 accused 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.
KING
She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.
DIANA
Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir:
[Exit Widow]
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
And he
shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath
abused me, as he knows himself,
Though yet
he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
He knows
himself my bed he hath defiled;
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 HELENA]
KING
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,' &c. 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,
I thank
thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
Let thy
courtesies 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 be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
Choose
thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For I can
guess that by thy honest aid
Thou
keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
Of that
and all the progress, more or 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]
EPILOGUE
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 pay,
With
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]