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Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught: I know my business is but to the court.
Count. To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!
Ber. And so 'tis.
Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,-
Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he, that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court: but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men.
Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.
Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock. [tions? Count. Will your answer serve fit to all quesClo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pan-cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin. Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.
Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.
Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clo. O Lord, sir,There's a simple putting off-more, more, a hundred of them."
Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that
Clo. O Lord, sir,-Thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. [you. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Nay, put me to't, I warrant Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Spare not me. Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed, your Ổ Lord, sir, is very sequent to your whipping; you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't.
Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my-. O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not
Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Why, there't serves well again. [this,
Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give Helen And arge her to a present answer back : Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son; This is not much.
Clo. Not much commendation to them.
Count. Not much employment for you: You understand me?
Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III.-Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times.
Laf. That gave him out incurable,-
Par. Right: as 'twere a man assured of an-
Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in,- -What do you call there?[actor. Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly Par. That's it I would have said; the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier; 'fore I speak in respect
Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most facinorous spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be Laf. Very hand of heaven. [thePar. Ay, so I say.
Laf. In a most weak
Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be
Laf. Generally thankful.
Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. Par. I would have said it; you say well: Here comes the king.
Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.
Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.-
Heaven hath, through me, restor'd the king to health.
Hel. Thanks, sir: all the rest is mute. Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-ace for [eyes, life. my Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair
Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please. Hel. My wish receive, Which great love grant! and so I take my leave. Laf. Do they all deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.
Hel. Be not afraid (to a Lord) that I your hand should take;
I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.
Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood.
4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.
Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy father drank wine.-But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. Hel. I dare not say I take you; (to Bertram) but I give Me, and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power.-This is the man. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, she's thy wife. [highness, Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes.
King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? Ber. Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her. King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from my sickly bed.
My love, and her desert; that canst not dream,
Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know,
Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your rising? I know her well; She had her breeding at my father's charge: A poor physician's daughter my wife!-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!
King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the
All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st,
Is good, without a name; vileness is so :
Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me.
Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am Let the rest go.
King. My honour's at the stake; which to deI must produce my power: Here take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up
Take her by the hand,
I take her hand. King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king, Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the new-born brief, And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.
[Exeunt King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, and Attendants.
Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, sir? [recantation. Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his Par. Recantation?-My lord? my master? Laf. Ay; is it not a language, I speak? Par. A most harsh one; and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master?
Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon? Par. To any count; to all counts; to what is [of another style. Laf. To what is count's man; count's master is Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old.
Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee.
Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou art scarce worth.
Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,
Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial;-which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.
Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable | SCENE ĮV.—The same. Another Room in the same. vexation. Enter HELENA and Clown.
Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me [Exit.
Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double, and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of-I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, there's news for you; you have a new mistress.
Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs: He is my good lord whom I serve above, is my master. Laf. Who? God?
Par. Ay, sir.
Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. [lord. Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords, and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtues gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit.
Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good, very good; let it be concealed a while.
Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! Par. What is the matter, sweet heart? Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have I will not bed her. [sworn,
Par. What? what, sweet heart?
Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me ;I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: To the wars!
Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the [import is,
I know not yet.
He wears his honour in a box unseen,
Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well? Clo. She is not well: but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i'the world: but yet she is not well.
Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? [things. Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two Hel. What two things?
Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly!
Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady!
Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.
Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady?
Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say. Pur. Why, I say nothing.
Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.
Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir. [thee. Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter. Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.Madam, my lord will go away to-night; The great prerogative and rite of love, A very serious business calls on him. [ledge; Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowBut puts it off by a compell'd restraint; [sweets, Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim.
Strengthen'd with that apology you think
What more commands he? Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently Attend his further pleasure.
Hel. In everything I wait upon his will.
I pray you.-Come, sirrah. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Another Room in the same. Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM. Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.
Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.
Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.
Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you, make us friends, I will pursue the amity. Enter PAROlles. Par. These things shall be done sir. (To Ber.)
I would not tell you what I would: my lord'faith, yes;
Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur?-
Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? Par. Sir?
Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor.
Ber. Is she gone to the king? (Aside to Parolles.) Par. She is.
Ber. Will she away to-night?
Par. As you'll have her.
Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given orders for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride,— And, ere I do begin,
Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.-God save you, captain.
Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?
Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure.
Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. [lord.
Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. [Exit.
Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Par. Why, do you not know him? [speech Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you.
I leave you to your wisdom.
What would you have? Hel. Something; and scarce so much :-nothing,
SCENE I.-Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace. Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two French Lords, and others.
Duke. So that from point to point, now have you The fundamental reasons of this war; [heard Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.
Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer.
[France Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. 2 Lord. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion: therefore dare not Say what I think of it; since I have found Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd.
Duke. Be at his pleasure. 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day, Come here for physic.
Welcome shall they be ; And all the honours, that can fly from us, Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell: To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.
Enter COUNTESS and Clown.
Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that he comes not along with her.
Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.
Count. By what observance, I pray you?
Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song. Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. (Opening a letter.) Clo. I have no mind to Isbel, since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no Count. What have we here? [stomach. [Exit.
Clo. E'en that you have there. Count. (Reads. I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run away; know it, before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold long distance. My duty to you.
Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king; To pluck his indignation on thy head, By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter?
Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
Count. Why should he be kill'd?
Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter HELENA and two Gentlemen.
1 Gen. Save you, good madam. tlemen,Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gen. Do not say so. Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, genI have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, [you? Can woman me unto't.-Where is my son, I pray 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of
Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
My being here it is, that holds thee hence:
We met him thitherward; from thence we came,
Hel. Look on his letter, madam; here's my pass(Reads.) When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and shew me a child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a then I write a never. This is a dreadful sentence.
Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
And to be a soldier?
2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose: and, believ't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour, That good convenience claims.
Count. Find you that there?
Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
Return you thither?
1 Gen. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of
[in France. Hel. (Reads.) Till I have no wife, I have nothing|
Then go thou forth;
This very day,
Ay, madam. 1 Gen. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, His beart was not consenting to.
Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
Enter Countess and Steward.
[done, Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of her?
Read it again.
Stew. I am St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest
Parolles, was't not?
Indeed, good lady,
Count. You are welcome, gentlemen;
We serve you, madam,
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
Pardon me, madam