Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/All's Well That Ends Well/Act 3
Actus Tertius.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen,with a troope of Souldiers.
Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard The fundamentall reasons of this warre,Whose great decision hath much blood let forthAnd more thirsts after.
1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrellVpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefullOn the opposer.
Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin FranceWould in so iust a businesse, shut his bosomeAgainst our borrowing prayers.
French E. Good my Lord,The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,But like a common and an outward man,That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare notSay what I thinke of it, since I haue foundMy selfe in my incertaine grounds to faileAs often as I guest.
Duke. Be it his pleasure.
Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,That surfet on their ease, will day by dayCome heere for Physicke.
Duke. Welcome shall they bee:And all the honors that can flye from vs,Shall on them settle: you know your places well,When better fall, for your auailes they fell,Flourish.To morrow to'th the field.
Enter Countesse and Clowne.
Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, sauethat he comes not along with her.
Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie melancholly man.
Count. By what obseruance I pray you.
Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing:mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, pickehis teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke ofmelancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song.
Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanesto come.
Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court.Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothinglike your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brainsof my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as anold man loues money, with no stomacke.
Lad. What haue we heere?
Clo. exitIn that you haue there.
A Letter.
I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.Your vnfortunate sonne,Bertram.
This is not well rash and vnbridled boy,To flye the fauours of so good a King,To plucke his indignation on thy head,By the misprising of a Maide too vertuousFor the contempt of Empire.
Enter Clowne.
Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two souldiers, and my yong Ladie.
La. What is the matter.
Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, somecomfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoghthe would.
La. Why should he be kill'd?
Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare hedoes, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse ofmen, though it be the getting of children. Heere theycome will tell you more. For my part I onely heare yoursonne was run away.
Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
French E. Saue you good Madam.
Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone.
French G. Do not say so.
La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,That the first face of neither on the startCan woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?
Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,We met him thitherward, for thence we came:And after some dispatch in hand at Court,Thither we bend againe.
Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport.
When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie,that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then)I write a Neuer.This is a dreadfull sentence.
La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorriefor our paines.
Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,But I do wash his name out of my blood,And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?
Fren.G. I Madam.
La. And to be a souldier.
Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu'tThe Duke will lay vpon him all the honorThat good conuenience claimes.
La. Returne you thither.
Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,'Tis bitter.
La. Finde you that there?
Hel. I Madame.
Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, whichhis heart was not consenting too.
Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:There's nothing heere that is too good for himBut onely she, and she deserues a LordThat twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?
Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which Ihaue sometime knowne.
La. Parolles was it not?
Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee.
La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,My sonne corrupts a well deriued natureWith his inducement.
Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale ofthat, too much, which holds him much to haue.
La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate youwhen you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword canneuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along.
Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all yourworthiest affaires.
La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,Exit.Will you draw neere?
Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't IThat chase thee from thy Countrie, and exposeThose tender limbes of thine, to the euentOf the none-sparing warre? And is it I,That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thouWas't shot at with faire eyes, to be the markeOf smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aireThat sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.Who euer charges on his forward brestI am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,And though I kill him not, I am the causeHis death was so effected: Better 'twereI met the rauine Lyon when he roar'dWith sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,That all the miseries which nature owesWere mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,As oft it looses all. I will be gone:My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, althoughThe ayre of Paradise did fan the house,And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,That pittifull rumour may report my flightTo consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,Exit.For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
Flourish.Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion,drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.
Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and weGreat in our hope, lay our best loue and credenceVpon thy promising fortune.
Ber. Sir it isA charge too heauy for my strength, but yetWee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,To th' extreme edge of hazard.
Duke. Then go thou forth,And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helmeAs thy auspicious mistris.
Ber. This very dayGreat Mars I put my selfe into thy file,Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proueExeunt omnesA louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.
Enter Countesse & Steward.
La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:Might you not know she would do, as she has done,By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.
Letter.I am S. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vponWith sainted vow my faults to haue amendedWrite, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:His taken labours bid him me forgiue:I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.He is too good and faire for death, and mee,Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.
Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,I could haue well diuerted her intents,Which thus she hath preuented.
Ste. Pardon me Madam,If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writesPursuite would be but vaine.
La. What Angell shallBlesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heareAnd loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrathOf greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,To this vnworthy husband of his wife,Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,When haply he shall heare that she is gone,He will returne, and hope I may that sheeHearing so much, will speede her foote againe,Led hither by pure loue: which of them bothIs deerest to me, I haue no skill in senceTo make distinction: prouide this Messenger:My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.Exeunt
A Tucket afarre off.
Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violentaand Mariana, with otherCitizens.
Widdow. Nay come,For if they do approach the Citty,We shall loose all the sight.
Diana. They say, the French Count has doneMost honourable seruice.
Wid. It is reported,That he has taken their great'st Commander,And that with his owne hand he slewThe Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,They are gone a contrarie way: harke,you may know by their Trumpets.
Maria. Come lets returne againe,And suffice our selues with the report of it.Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,The honor of a Maide is her name,And no Legacie is so richAs honestie.
Widdow. I haue told my neighbourHow you haue beene solicited by a GentlemanHis Companion.
Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles,a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the youngEarle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, arenot the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beeneseduced by them, and the miserie is example, that soterrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannotfor all that disswade succession, but that they are limedwith the twigges that threatens them. I hope I needenot to aduise you further, but I hope your owne gracewill keepe you where you are, though there were nofurther danger knowne, but the modestie which is solost.
Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
Enter Hellen.
Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I knowshe will lye at my house, thither they send one another,Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether arebound?
Hel. To S. Iaques la grand.Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
Wid. At the S. Francis heere beside the Port.
Hel. A march afarre.Is this the way?
Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:If you will tarrie holy PilgrimeBut till the troopes come by,I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,The rather for I thinke I know your hostesseAs ample as my selfe.
Hel. Is it your selfe?
Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime.
Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure.
Wid. You came I thinke from France?
Hel. I did so.
Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yoursThat has done worthy seruice.
Hel. His name I pray you?
Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:His face I know not.
Dia. What somere he isHe's brauely taken heere. He stole from FranceAs 'tis reported: for the King had married himAgainst his liking. Thinke you it is so?
Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady.
Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,Reports but coursely of her.
Hel. What's his name?
Dia. Monsieur Parrolles.
Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,In argument of praise, or to the worthOf the great Count himselfe, she is too meaneTo haue her name repeated, all her deseruingIs a reserued honestie, and thatI haue not heard examin'd.
Dian. Alas poore Ladie,'Tis a hard bondage to become the wifeOf a detesting Lord.
Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do herA shrewd turne if she pleas'd.
Hel. How do you meane?May be the amorous Count solicites herIn the vnlawfull purpose.
Wid. He does indeede,And brokes with all that can in such a suiteCorrupt the tender honour of a Maide:But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guardIn honestest defence.
Drumme and Colours.Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the whole Armie.
Mar. The goddes forbid else.
Wid. So, now they come:That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,That Escalus.
Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. Hee,That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honesterHe were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
Hel. I like him well.
Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaueThat leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,I would poison that vile Rascall.
Hel. Which is he?
Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee melancholly?
Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile.
Par. Loose our drum? Well.
Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke hehas spyed vs.
Wid. Marrie hang you.
Mar. Exit.And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bringyou, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitentsThere's foure or fiue, to great S. Iaques bound,Alreadie at my house.
Hel. I humbly thanke you:Please it this Matron, and this gentle MaideTo eate with vs to night, the charge and thankingShall be for me, and to requite you further,I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin,Worthy the note.
Both. ExeuntWee'l take your offer kindly.
Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen,as at first.
Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let himhaue his way.
Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,hold me no more in your respect.
Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble.
Ber. Do you thinke I am so farreDeceiued in him.
Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne directknowledge, without any malice, but to speake of himas my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, theowner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordshipsentertainment.
Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing toofarre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at somegreat and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayleyou.
Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try him.
Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake to do.
C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowesnot from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinkehim so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bringhim to our owne tents: be but your Lordship presentat his examination, if he do not for the promise of hislife, and in the highest compulsion of base feare, offer tobetray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his poweragainst you, and that with the diuine forfeite of hissoule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in aniething.
Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch hisdrumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when yourLordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and towhat mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement,your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes.
Enter Parrolles.
Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand.
Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely in your disposition.
Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme.
Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum solost. There was excellent command, to charge in withour horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our ownesouldiers.
Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the commandof the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar himselfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there tocommand.
Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe: some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum,but it is not to be recouered.
Par. It might haue beene recouered.
Ber. It might, but it is not now.
Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer, I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet.
Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: ifyou thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring thisinstrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, bemagnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil gracethe attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well init, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to youwhat further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmostsyllable of your worthinesse.
Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it.
Ber. But you must not now slumber in it.
Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presentlypen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in mycertaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation:and by midnight looke to heare further from me.
Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you aregone about it.
Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,but the attempt I vow.
Ber. I know th'art valiant,And to the possibility of thy souldiership,Will subscribe for thee: Farewell.
Par. ExitI loue not many words.
Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not thisa strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes tovndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to bedone, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damndthen to doo't.
Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe,certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour, and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after.
Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede atall of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfevnto?
Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap vpon you two or three probable lies:but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall tonight; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect.
Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxeere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old LordLafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me whata sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie night.
Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,He shall be caught.
Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me.
Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you.
Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew youThe Lasse I spoke of.
Cap.E. But you say she's honest.
Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to herBy this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th windeTokens and Letters, which she did resend,And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,Will you go see her?
Cap.E. ExeuntWith all my heart my Lord.
Enter Hellen, and Widdow.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,I know not how I shall assure you further,But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon.
Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,Nothing acquainted with these businesses,And would not put my reputation nowIn any staining act.
Hel. Nor would I wish you.First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,Is so from word to word: and then you cannotBy the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,Erre in bestowing it.
Wid. I should beleeue you,For you haue shew'd me that which well approuesY'are great in fortune.
Hel. Take this purse of Gold,And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againeWhen I haue found it. The Count he woes your daughter,Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consentAs wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:Now his important blood will naught denie,That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,That downward hath succeeded in his house From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holdsIn most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,How ere repented after.
Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose.
Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,Her selfe most chastly absent: afterTo marry her, Ile adde three thousand CrownesTo what is past already.
Wid. I haue yeelded:Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,That time and place with this deceite so lawfullMay proue coherent. Euery night he comesWith Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'dTo her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vsTo chide him from our eeues, for he persistsAs if his life lay on't.
Hel. Why then to nightLet vs assay our plot, which if it speed,Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.But let's about it.