Alls Wel that ends Well

by William Shakespeare

  Where you shall host. Of enjoin'd penitents

  There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,

  Already at my house.

  HELENA. I humbly thank you.

  Please it this matron and this gentle maid

  To eat with us to-night; the charge and thanking

  Shall be for me, and, to requite you further,

  I will bestow some precepts of this virgin,

  Worthy the note.

  BOTH. We'll take your offer kindly. Exeunt

  SCENE 6.

  Camp before Florence

  Enter BERTRAM, and the two FRENCH LORDS

  SECOND LORD. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way.

  FIRST LORD. If your lordship find him not a hiding, hold me no more

  in your respect.

  SECOND LORD. On my life, my lord, a bubble.

  BERTRAM. Do you think I am so far deceived in him?

  SECOND LORD. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,

  without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a

  most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly

  promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your

  lordship's entertainment.

  FIRST LORD. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his

  virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty

  business in a main danger fail you.

  BERTRAM. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

  FIRST LORD. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which

  you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

  SECOND LORD. I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise

  him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy.

  We will bind and hoodwink him so that he shall suppose no other

  but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries when

  we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at

  his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life and in

  the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and

  deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that

  with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my

  judgment in anything.

  FIRST LORD. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he

  says he has a stratagem for't. When your lordship sees the bottom

  of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of

  ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's

  entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.

  Enter PAROLLES

  SECOND LORD. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of

  his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.

  BERTRAM. How now, monsieur! This drum sticks sorely in your

  disposition.

  FIRST LORD. A pox on 't; let it go; 'tis but a drum.

  PAROLLES. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! There was

  excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own

  wings, and to rend our own soldiers!

  FIRST LORD. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the

  service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not

  have prevented, if he had been there to command.

  BERTRAM. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success.

  Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to

  be recovered.

  PAROLLES. It might have been recovered.

  BERTRAM. It might, but it is not now.

  PAROLLES. It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is

  seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have

  that drum or another, or 'hic jacet.'

  BERTRAM. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur. If you think

  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 our 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 th' art valiant; and, to the 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 damn'd 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

  emboss'd 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 smok'd 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' th' 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 7.

  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 fall'n, 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

  Y'are gre
at 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 woos your daughter

  Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,

  Resolv'd 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 pass'd 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 compos'd

  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 1.

  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 th' 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 has 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' th'

  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 knock'd to 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 butterwoman'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 stripp'd.

  SECOND LORD. Hardly serve.

  PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd 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

  recover'd it.

  SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. [Alarum within]

  PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's!

  SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

  ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

  PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.

  [They 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, 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 2.

  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 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 o'that!

  I prithee do not strive against my vows.

  I was compell'd to her; but I love the

  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 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 recovers. 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' th' 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' th' world

  In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom