ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. PERSONS REPRESENTED. King of France. Duke of Florence. Bertram, Count of Rousillon. Parolles, a follower of Bertram. tram in the Florentine war. Clown, Steward,} servants to the Countess of Rousillon. Lafeu, an old Lord. Countess of Rousillon, mother to Bertram. Diana, daughter to the widow. Violenta, Several young French Lords, that serve with Ber- Mariana, neighbours and friends to the widow. Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers. &c. French and Florentine. Scene, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. АСТ І. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this SCENE I-Rousillon. A Room in the Coun-gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? tess's Palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Laseu, in mourning. Countess. Count. 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 make fair gifts fairer; for where IN delivering my son from me, I bury a second an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there husband. commendations go with pity, they are virtues and Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my traitors too; in her they are the better for their father's death anew: but I must attend his majes- simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves ty's command, to whom I am now in ward, ever-her goodness. more in subjection. Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, ma- her tears. dam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue her praise in. The remembrance of her father to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such sorrows takes all livelihoods from her cheek. No abundance. more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lets it be Count. What hope is there of his majesty's rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. amendment? Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; too. under whose practices he hath persecuted time Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the with hope; and finds no other advantage in the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. process but only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father (0, that had !2 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. Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed 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 Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourn- That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck ingly he was skilful enough to have lived still, if : down, 6 knowledge could be set up against mortality. Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord, R to the very paring, and so diez 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 lose by't; Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the prin cipal itself not much the worse: Away with't. That shall attend his love. Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. 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? Par. Keep him out. Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. Par. There is none; man, sitting down before vou, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her owr Hiking? Par. 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 it. Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. (1) i. e. May you be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect. (2) Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his resemblance was portrayed. (3) Peculiarity of feature, (4) Countenance, Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that There shall your master have a thousand loves, Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, Par. That's for advantage. As when thy father, and myself, in friendship Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the First try'd our soldiership! He did look far safety: But the composition, that your valour and Into the service of the time, and was fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; I like the wear well. But on us both did haggish age steal on, Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer And wore us out of act. It much repairs4 me thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the To talk of your good father: In his youth which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, He had the wit, which I can well observe so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, To-day in our young lords; but they may jest and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine Ere they can hide their levity in honour. ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thou So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 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. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, A nursery to our gentry, who are sick King. What's he comes here? King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. (1) i. e. Thou wilt comprehend it. (2) Things formed by nature for each other. (3) The citizens of the small republic of which Sienna is the capital. (4) To repair, here significs to renovate Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man King. 'Would, I were with him! He would al- (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, 2 Lord. count, He was much fam'd. Ber. Some six months since, my lord. Thank your majesty. SCENE III-Rousillon. A Room in the Coun- Count. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? Stew. 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. Count. 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. Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. Count. Well, sir. I Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: But, if may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Clo. I do beg your good will in this case. Count. In what case? Clo. 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 of my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings. Count. Tell me the reason why thou wilt marry. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives. Count. Is this all your worship's reason? Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. Count. May the world know them? Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent. Was this king Priam's joy? And gave this sentence then; Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you? Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no pu ritan, 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 Clown. Count. Well, now. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. 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 Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked-more shall be paid her, than she'll demand. ness. Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and have friends for my wife's sake. did communicate to herself, her own words to her Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. own cars; she thought, I dare vow for her, they Clo. You are shallow, madam; e'en great friends; touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no a-weary of. He, that ears my land, spares my goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If I be two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his cuckold, he's my drudge: He, that comforts his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first flesh and blood; he, that loves my flesh and blood, assault, or ransome afterward: This she delivered is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard friend. If men could be contented to be what they virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty, speedily are, there were no fear in marriage; for young to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, may happen, it concerns you something to know it. howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep heads are both one, they may joll horns together, it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of like any deer i' the herd. this before, which hung so tottering in the balance Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt: Pray calumnious knave? you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and I Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the thank you for your honest care: I will speak with truth the next way: you further anon. For I the ballad will repeat, Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind. Enter Helena. [Exit Steward. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young: If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; more anon. Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth. none. Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now. You know, Helen: (2) Children. Therefore. (5) The nearest way. (6) Foolishly done. |