Read Ebook: All's Well That Ends Well by Shakespeare William

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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 sinn'd against his experience and transgress'd 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. These things shall be done, sir. LAFEU. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? PAROLLES. Sir! LAFEU. O, I know him well. Ay, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM. 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 leapt 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 kernal 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 procur'd 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. Prepar'd I was not For such a business; therefore am I found So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse than ask why I entreat you; For my respects are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not. This to my mother. '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

Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two FRENCH LORDS, with a TROOP OF SOLDIERS

Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN

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 kill'd so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS. Why should he be kill'd? CLOWN. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does 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 the two FRENCH GENTLEMEN

SECOND GENTLEMAN. Save you, good madam. HELENA. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Do not say so. COUNTESS. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen- I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto 't. Where is my son, I pray you? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence. We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. HELENA. Look on this letter, madam; here's my passport. '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 pains. COUNTESS. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam. COUNTESS. And to be a soldier? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. COUNTESS. Return you thither? SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELENA. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' 'Tis bitter. COUNTESS. Find you that there? HELENA. Ay, madam. SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, 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? SECOND GENTLEMAN. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known. COUNTESS. Parolles, was it not? SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, my good lady, he. COUNTESS. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much Which holds him much to have. COUNTESS. Y'are welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses. More I'll entreat you Written to bear along. FIRST GENTLEMAN. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. COUNTESS. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near? Exeunt COUNTESS and 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 That chase thee from thy country, and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the non-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-piecing air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; And though I kill him not, I am the 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 offic'd 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

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 th' extreme edge of hazard. DUKE. Then go thou forth; And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! BERTRAM. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file; Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. Exeunt

Enter COUNTESS and STEWARD

Without the walls of Florence A tucket afar off. Enter an old WIDOW OF FLORENCE, her daughter 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 great'st commander; and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother. 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 threatens 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.

Enter HELENA in the dress of a pilgrim

WIDOW. I hope so. 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 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. Hark you! They come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; The rather for I think I know your 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. What some'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the King had married him Against his liking. Think you it is so? HELENA. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady. DIANA. There is a gentleman that serves the 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 examin'd. DIANA. Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. WIDOW. I sweet, good creature, wheresoe'er she is Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. HELENA. How do you mean? May be the amorous Count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. WIDOW. He does, indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid; But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard In honestest defence.

Enter, with drum and colours, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole ARMY

MARIANA. The gods forbid else! WIDOW. So, now they come. That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son; That, Escalus. HELENA. Which is the Frenchman? DIANA. He- That with the plume; 'tis a most gallant fellow. I would he lov'd his wife; if he were 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' th' battle. PAROLLES. Lose our drum! well. MARIANA. He's shrewdly vex'd at something. Look, he has spied us. WIDOW. Marry, hang you! MARIANA. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and 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

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 hiding, 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 anything. 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

Enter HELENA and WIDOW

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 th' interpreter. SECOND LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice? FIRST SOLDIER. No, sir, I warrant you. SECOND LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again? FIRST SOLDIER. E'en such as you speak to me. SECOND LORD. He must think us some band of strangers i' th' adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of 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 knock'd to 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 butterwoman'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 stripp'd. SECOND LORD. Hardly serve. PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel- SECOND LORD. How deep? PAROLLES. Thirty fathom. SECOND LORD. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. PAROLLES. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I recover'd it. SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's! SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes. 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, 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

Enter BERTRAM and DIANA

Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS

SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter? FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd almost into another man. SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it. FIRST 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. SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves,

what things are we! FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows himself. SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace. SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France? SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether

of his counsel. FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of his act. SECOND 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 accomplish'd; 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. FIRST LORD. How is this justified? SECOND 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 confirm'd by the rector of the place. FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence? SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample. SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd 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 dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd 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 has deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier. SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. Has sat i' th' stocks all night, poor gallant knave. BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? 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 confess'd 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' th' stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd? BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a? SECOND LORD. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to 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 as interpreter

remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me? FIRST SOLDIER. What's he? PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' same nest; not altogether so great 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. 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 discover'd 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, of with his head. PAROLLES. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! FIRST SOLDIER. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. So look about you; know you any here? BERTRAM. Good morrow, noble Captain. FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles. SECOND LORD. God save you, noble Captain. FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. SECOND 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'd 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 crush'd 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 fool'ry thrive. There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. Exit

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 waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us. All's Well that Ends Well. Still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. Exeunt

Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN

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 liv'ry of honour; so belike is that. CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face. LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young noble soldier. CLOWN. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. Exeunt

Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA, with two ATTENDANTS

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