All's Well That Ends Well (1603)

 


ACT FOUR

SCENE 1. Without the Florentine camp.

 

[Enter first Lord with five or six Soldiers in ambush.]

FIRST 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.

FIRST LORD.

Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

FIRST SOLDIER.

No, sir, I warrant you.

FIRST LORD.

But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again?

FIRST SOLDIER.

E'en such as you speak to me.

FIRST 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.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

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.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

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.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

We cannot afford you so.

PAROLLES.

Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

'Twould not do.

PAROLLES.

Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

Hardly serve.

PAROLLES.

Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel,—

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

How deep?

PAROLLES.

Thirty fathom.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

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.

FIRST LORD. {Aside.]

You shall hear one anon.

PAROLLES.

A drum now of the enemy's!

[Alarum within.]

FIRST LORD.

Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

ALL.

Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda 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.

SECOND SOLDIER.

Boskos vauvado:—I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue.
Kerelybonto:—Sir,
Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.

PAROLLES.

O!

FIRST SOLDIER.

O, pray, pray, pray!—
Manka revania dulche.

FIRST LORD.

Oscorbi dulchos 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.]

FIRST 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.

FIRST LORD.

'A will betray us all unto ourselves;—
Inform 'em that.

SECOND SOLDIER.

So I will, sir.

FIRST LORD.

Till then I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.

[Exeunt.]

 

SCENE 2. Florence. A room in 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 the 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 stern;
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 of that!
I pr'ythee, 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 Highest to witness: then, pray you, tell me,
If I should swear by Jove's great attributes
I lov'd 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 hopes in such a case,
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM.

I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.

DIANA.

Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM.

It is an honour 'longing to our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose.

DIANA.

Mine honour's such a ring:
My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion honour on my part
Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM.

Here, take my ring:
My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.

DIANA.

When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window;
I'll order take my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd;
And on your finger in the night, I'll put
Another ring; that what in time proceeds
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu till then; then fail not. You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

BERTRAM.

A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

[Exit.]

DIANA.

For which live long to thank both heaven and me!
You may so in the end.—
My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in's heart; she says all men
Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry that will, I live and die a maid:
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him that would unjustly win.

[Exit.]

 

SCENE 3. The Florentine camp.

[Enter the two French Lords, and two or three Soldiers.]

FIRST LORD.

You have not given him his mother's letter?

SECOND LORD.

I have deliv'red 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 meantime, 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
counsel.

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, 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 Servant.]

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 despatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length
apiece; by an abstract of success: I have conge'd 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 despatch 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
deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.

SECOND LORD.

Bring him forth.

[Exeunt Soldiers.]

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?

FIRST 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 he?

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.

[Re-enter Soldiers, with PAROLLES.]

BERTRAM.

A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me; hush, hush!
FIRST LORD.
Hoodman comes! Porto tartarossa.

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.

'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 are 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 practice 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 everything 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.

'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 fifty each; mine own company,
Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred 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 the 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. '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, expertness in wars;
or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing
sums of gold, to corrupt him to a 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: he 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.

[FIRST LORD lifts up his hand in anger.]

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 vow'd to thee in thine ear,
PAROLLES.

BERTRAM.

He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in his
forehead.

SECOND LORD.

This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the
armipotent soldier.

BERTRAM.

I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a cat to
me.

FIRST SOLDIER.

I perceive, sir, by our 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
anywhere, 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 them 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 bedclothes
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
everything 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, 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-villanied villainy 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 he 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 SOLDIER.

That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.

[Unmuffling 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'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

[Exeunt BERTRAM, Lords, &c.]

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.]

PAROLLES.

Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more;
But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive.
There's place and means for every man alive.
I'll after them.

[Exit.]

 

SCENE 4. Florence. A room in 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 informed
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.]

 

SCENE 5. Rousillon. A room in the COUNTESS'S palace.

[Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN.]

LAFEU.

No, no, no, 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-tail'd 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 salad-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 phisnomy 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 his 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
flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

LAFEU.

Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary 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 it 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 Five »

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