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ACT IV of All’s Well That Ends Well
ACT IV of All’s Well That Ends Well
by William Shakespeare
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 ***.
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
ACT IV. 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
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
ACT IV. SCENE 3. The Florentine camp
Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS
SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter?
FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is
something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading
it he chang'd almost into another man.
SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking
off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.
FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting
displeasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty
to sing happiness to
him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell
darkly with you.
SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the
grave of it.
FIRST 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.
SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves,
what things are we! FIRST 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 abhorr'd ends; so he that in this
action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream,
o'erflows himself.
SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of
our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his
company to-night?
FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his
hour. SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would
gladly have him see his
company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own
judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.
FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his
presence must be the whip of the other. SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you
of these wars? FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of
peace. SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel
higher, or return again into France? SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you
are not altogether
of his counsel. FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should
I be a great deal of his act.
SECOND 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.
FIRST LORD. How is this justified? SECOND 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 confirm'd by the rector of the place.
FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence? SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations,
point from point, to the full arming of the verity.
FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.
SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our
losses! FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times
we drown our gain in
tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd
for him shall at home be encount'red with a shame
as ample. SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled
yarn, good and ill
together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt 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? 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 dispatch'd sixteen
businesses, a month's
length apiece; 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 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
deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier. SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS]
Has sat i' th'
stocks all night, poor gallant knave. BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd
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 *** 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' th'
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
have the patience to hear it.
Enter PAROLLES guarded, and FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter
BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.
SECOND 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. SECOND 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!
SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, 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.
FIRST 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.
SECOND 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? SECOND 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' th' 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: 'a was a botcher's prentice
in Paris, from
whence he was whipt 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. SECOND 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' th'
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. SECOND 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 whipt through the army
with this rhyme in's
forehead. FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir,
the manifold linguist, and the amnipotent 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' th' 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 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 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.
SECOND 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 soldier-ship
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.
SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd 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 cardecue 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?
FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me? FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?
PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' 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 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, of 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.
FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles. SECOND LORD. God save you, noble 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 pass
That every braggart shall be found an ***. 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 gratitude
Through flinty Tartar's *** 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 *** 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, 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 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 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 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 Marseilles, 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 tal 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 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 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
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