SCENE IV. 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 V. 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 III


SCENE I. 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 II. 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 III. 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 IV. 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 V. 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 VI. 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 VII. 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 IV



SCENE I. 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 II. 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 III. 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 IV. 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 V. 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 V



SCENE I. 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