Alls Wel that ends Well

not yet.

PAROLLES. Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th'

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 th' war!

BERTRAM. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house,

Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,

And wherefore I am fled; write to the 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' th' 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! th'art a knave.

CLOWN. You should have said, sir, 'Before a knave th'art a knave';

that's 'Before me th'art a knave.' This had been truth, sir.

PAROLLES. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee.

CLOWN. Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to 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 else?

PAROLLES. That you will take your instant leave o' th' King,

And make this haste as your own good proceeding,

Strength'ned with what apology you 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 everything 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 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. [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir.

LAFEU. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor?

PAROLLES. Sir! 

LAFEU. O, I know him well. Ay, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, 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 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.

[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 III.

SCENE 1.

Florence. The DUKE's palace

Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two

FRENCH LORDS, with a TROOP OF SOLDIERS

DUKE. So that, from point to point, now have you hear

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 th' field. Flourish. Exeunt

SCENE 2.

Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace

Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN

COUNTESS. It hath happen'd 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' th' country are nothing like your old ling and

your Isbels o' th' court. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out;

and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

COUNTESS. What have we here?

CLOWN. E'en that you have there. Exit 

COUNTESS. [Reads] 'I have sent you a daughter-in-law; she 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 misprizing 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 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. 

[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 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. [Reads] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'

'Tis bitter.

COUNTESS. Find you that there?

HELENA. Ay, madam.

SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, 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

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 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

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 fervour 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'er ta'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.

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. [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

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?

[A march afar] 

WIDOW. Ay, marry, is't. Hark you! They come this way.

If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,

But till the troops come by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd;

The rather for I think I know your 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

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 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

SECOND LORD. 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 blam'd 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