All's Well That Ends Well Part 12

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 discover'd the

secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very n.o.bly 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. [Unm.u.f.fling him] So look about you; know you any here?

BERTRAM. Good morrow, n.o.ble Captain.

FIRST LORD. G.o.d bless you, Captain Parolles.

SECOND LORD. G.o.d save you, n.o.ble Captain.

FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.

SECOND LORD. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? An I were not a very coward I'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

Exeunt BERTRAM and LORDS FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on 't yet.

PAROLLES. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?

FIRST SOLDIER. If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent

nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too; we shall speak of you there. Exit with SOLDIERS PAROLLES. Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pa.s.s That every braggart shall be found an a.s.s.

Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and, Parolles, live Safest in shame. Being fool'd, by fool'ry thrive.

There's place and means for every man alive.

I'll after them. Exit

ACT IV SCENE 4.

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 grat.i.tude Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, And answer 'Thanks.' I duly am inform'd His Grace is at Ma.r.s.eilles, 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 l.u.s.t 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

ACT IV SCENE 5.

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 villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'd 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 advanc'd 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 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 gra.s.s.

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 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 n.o.bility 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 flow'ry 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 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.

Exit LAFEU. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.

COUNTESS. So 'a 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 promis'd 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 Ma.r.s.eilles, of as able body as when he number'd thirty; 'a will be here to-morrow, or I am deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd.

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 G.o.d, 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 n.o.bly got, or a n.o.ble scar, is a good liv'ry of honour; so belike is that.

CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face.

LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young n.o.ble 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