SHAKESPEARE ON DISK.

     ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

     ACT IV.

     SCENE I.

          [Without the Florentine camp.]

          [Enter First French LORD, with five or six other  
          SOLDIERS, in ambush.]

          FIRST LORD.
He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you       4/1/1
sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will,-
though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we
must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us,
whom we must produce for an interpreter.

          FIRST SOLDIER.
Good captain, let me be th'interpreter.

          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 hast thou to speak to us again?

          FIRST SOLDIER.
E'en such as you speak to me.                                    4/1/10

          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      4/1/20
to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very
plausive invention that carries it: they begin to smoke me;
and disgraces have of late knock'd 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          4/1/30
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.                                4/1/40

          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 stripp'd-

          FIRST LORD [aside].
Hardly serve.

          PAROLLES.
Though I swore I leapt from the window of the citadel-

          FIRST LORD [aside].
How deep?

          PAROLLES.
Thirty fadom.

          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           4/1/50
recover'd it.

          FIRST LORD [aside].
You shall hear one anon.      [Alarum within.]

          PAROLLES.
A drum now of the enemy's!

          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,                     4/1/60
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:-
`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.
`Oscorbidulchos volivorco.'

          FIRST SOLDIER.
The general is content to spare thee yet;                        4/1/70
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.]

          FIRST LORD.
Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled           4/1/80
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 II.

          [Florence. A room in the widow's house.]

          [Enter BERTRAM and DIANA.]

          BERTRAM.
They told me that your name was Fontibell.                        4/2/1

          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.                                    4/2/10

          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.                                   4/2/20

          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 Jove'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;                     4/2/30
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 scarr,
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

          BERTRAM.
I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power                    4/2/40
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,                        4/2/50
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:                    4/2/60
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                       4/2/70
Have the like oaths: he has 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?                       4/3/1

          SECOND LORD.
I have deliver'd 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 incurr'd 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.                                                 4/3/10

          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         4/3/20
attain to their abhorr'd 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
judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this                 4/3/30
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.                                                         4/3/40

          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
accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her
nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan
of her last breath; and now she sings in heaven.

          SECOND LORD.
How is this justified?

          FIRST LORD.
The stronger part of it by her own letters, which make her       4/3/50
story true, even to the point of her death: her death
itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was
faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place.

          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      4/3/60
for him shall at home be encounter'd 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 whipp'd
them not: and our crimes would despair, if they were not
cherish'd by our virtues.
          [Enter a MESSENGER.]
How now! where's your master?

          MESSENGER.
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 offer'd him letters of commendations to the king.
  [Exit.]

          SECOND LORD.
They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more      4/3/70
than they can commend.

          FIRST LORD.
They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his
lordship now.
          [Enter BERTRAM.]
How now, my lord! is't not after midnight?

          BERTRAM.
I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's
length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congied
with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a
wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am
returning; entertain'd my convoy; and between these main
parcels of dispatch, effected many nicer needs: the last was     4/3/80
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     4/3/90
so long. How does he carry himself?

          SECOND LORD.
I have told your lordship already,- the stocks carry him.
But, to answer you as you would be understood; he weeps like
a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confess'd himself to
Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his
remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i'
the stocks: and what think you he hath confess'd?

          BERTRAM.
Nothing of me, has 'a?

          SECOND LORD.
His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face:
if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must        4/3/100
have the patience to hear it.

          [Enter SOLDIERS with PAROLLES muffled.]

          BERTRAM.
A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me.

          FIRST LORD.
Hush, hush! Hoodman comes.- `Portotartarossa.'

          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.                             4/3/110

          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 scatter'd, 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.                                                           4/3/120

          BERTRAM.
All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

          FIRST LORD.
Y'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 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       4/3/130
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 afoot." What say
you to that?

          PAROLLES.
By my troth, sir, if I were to live but this present hour, I    4/3/140
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             4/3/150
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
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?                                4/3/160

          PAROLLES.
I know him: 'a was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from
whence he was whipp'd 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?                           4/3/170

          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.                                                    4/3/180

          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     4/3/190
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 but to kiss:
For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it,
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.                   4/3/200
    Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,
                                                   Parroles.

          BERTRAM.
He shall be whipp'd through the army, with this rime 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 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     4/3/210
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
answer'd 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    4/3/220
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.                                   4/3/230

          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-villain'd villainy so far, that the rarity
redeems him.

          BERTRAM.
A pox on him, he's a cat still.                                 4/3/240

          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 cardecu he will sell the fee-simple of his
salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th'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         4/3/250
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:    4/3/260
yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?

          FIRST SOLDIER.
There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says,
you that have so traitorously discover'd the secrets of your
army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly
held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you
must die.- Come, headsman, 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.                                     4/3/270

          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 crush'd with a plot?                              4/3/280

          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,                    4/3/290
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. A room in the widow's house.]

          [Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA.]

          HELENA.
That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you,                4/4/1
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,                        4/4/10
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                             4/4/20
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.                                        4/4/30

          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. A room in the house of the Countess.]

          [Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN.]

          LAFEU.
No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipp'd-taffeta            4/5/1
fellow there, whose villainous 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 he 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     4/5/10
rooted love.

          LAFEU.
'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand
sallets ere we light on such another herb.

          CLOWN.
Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the sallet, or
rather, the herb of grace.

          LAFEU.
They are not sallet-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.       4/5/20

          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?                                         4/5/30

          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 talk'st 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      4/5/40
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 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 look'd 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.          4/5/50
  [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       4/5/60
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 number'd thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am
deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom
fail'd.                                                          4/5/70

          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.

          [Enter CLOWN.]

          CLOWN.
O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet        4/5/80
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      4/5/90
most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every    
man.     [Exeunt.]

     ACT IV.

     END.