Scene III:

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Ber.
Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high-|Of what should stead her most?

ness.

My gracious sovereign,

King. Then shall we have a match. I have Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.
Count.

letters sent me, That set him high in fame.

Laf.

Enter Bertram.

He looks well on't.
King. I am not a day of season,1
For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: But to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
The time is fair again.

Ber.

My high-repented blames,

Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
King.

All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord?

2

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

Well excus'd:

King.
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: But love, that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash faults,
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Count. Which better than the first, O dear
heaven, bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!

Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favour from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come.-By my old beard,
And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.

Ber.

Hers it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine

eye,

While I was speaking, oft was fastened to't.-
This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
1 bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token

Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd'it
At her life's rate.

Laf.
I am sure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it.
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood ingag'd:3 but when I had subscrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,
In heavy satisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.

Plutus himself,
King.
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,*
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforce-

And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove so:-
And yet I know not:-thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.-Take him away.-
[Guards seize Bertram.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him ;-
We'll sift this matter further.
If you shall prove

Ber.

This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
[Exit Ber. guarded:
Where yet she never was.
Enter a Gentleman.
King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gracious sovereign,
Gent.
Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not;
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's

would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no

Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife; DIANA CAPULET. That ring's a thousand proofs. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and you saw one here in court could witness it. King. Methought, you said, toll him: for this, I'll none of him.

Scene III.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

Is't real, that I see?
Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
Hel.

orator.

No, my good lord;
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.

Ber.

Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. Both, both; O, pardon! King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st ? Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her,-for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not And, look you, here's your letter; This it says, what: yet I was in that credit with them at that When from my finger you can get this ring, time, that I knew of their going to bed: and of And are by me with child, &c-This is done: other motions, as promising her marriage, and Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know.

Ay, my good lord.

Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this

clearly,

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. Deadly divorce step between me and you!canst say they are married: But thou art too fine1 O, my dear mother, do I see you living? in thy evidence: therefore stand aside.Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon: This ring, you say, was yours? Dia. handkerchief: So, I thank thee; wait on me home, King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?-Good Tom Drum, [To Parolles.] lend me a I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. King. Who lent it you? It was not lent me neither. they are scurvy ones. Dia. King. Where did you find it then? I found it not. Dia. King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? I never gave it him. Dia. Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure."

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.
Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know.
King. Take her away, I do not like her now:
To prison with her: and away with him.-
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.

Dia.

I'll never tell you.

King. Take her away.
I'll put in bail, my liege.
Dia.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this
while?

Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty;
He knows, I am no maid, and he'll swear to't:
I'll swear, I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.

her.

sir;

King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow:-
[To Diana.
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.-
For I can guess, that, by the honest aid,
Of that, and all the progress, more and less,
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Advancing.

[Flourish.

The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well-ended, if this suit be won,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
That you express content; which we will pay,
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;

[Exeunt.

This play has many delightful scenes, though [Pointing to Lafeu. not sufficiently probable; and some happy characknowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with ters, though not new, nor produced by any deep Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal and a coward, such as has always been the sport [Exit Widow. of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laughter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare. The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for, But for this lord, And he shall surety me. Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him; He knows himself, my bed he hath defil'd; And at that time he got his wife with child: Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick; So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick : And now behold the meaning.

King.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

(1) Too artful.
(3) Owns.

Is there no exorcist
(2) Common woman.
(4) Enchanter.

I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without her as a profligate: when she is dead by his untruth; who marries Helen as a coward, and leaves kindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is acensed by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness.

The story of Bertram and Diana had been told before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the truth, scarcely merited to be heard a second time. JOHNSON.

(5) i. e. Hear us without interruption, and take our parts, that is, support and defend us.

Scene, sometimes in Padua, and sometimes in Pe- Scene, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's Country truchio's House in the Country.

INDUCTION.

SCENE I-Before an Alehouse on a Heath.
Enter Hostess and Sly.

Sly.

I'LL pheese' you, in faith.

Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues: Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide: Sessa!3

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst ?4

Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

House.

Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with
Huntsmen and Servants.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my
hounds:

Brach' Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
;-But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
1 Hun. I will, my lord.

Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough." [Exit.

Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not
warm'd with ale,

This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he

lies!

Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!

(6) An officer whose authority equals a constable.
(7) Bitch.
(8) Strained.

fancy.

Then take him up, and manage well the jest :-
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say,-What is it your honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer,' the third a diaper,2

hands?

And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your
Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease:
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic;
And, when he says he is-, say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.4

Wherein your coming can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modesties;
Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour
(For yet his honour never heard a play,)
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.
i Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain our
selves,

Were he the veriest antic in the world.

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one:
Let them want nothing that my house affords.-
[Exeunt Servant and Players.

Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,

To a Servant.

:
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him-madam, do him obeisance,
Tell him from me (as he will win my love,)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
And say,-What is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her love?
And then-with kind embracements, tempting

kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,-
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd

To see her noble lord restor❜d to health,

Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,

1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our To rain a shower of commanded tears,

part,

As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him;
And each one to his office, when he wakes.-
[Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds.
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :-
[Exit Servant.
Belike, some noble gentleman; that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.-
Re-enter a Servant.

Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ;-
Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour

means.

An onion will do well for such a shift:
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-

[Exit Servant.
I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband;
And how my men will stay themselves from

laughter,

When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.

[Exeunt SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the Lord's house. Sly is discovered in a rich nightgown, with attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like a Servant.

Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to, day?

Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.-nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and Well, you are come to me in happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand,

if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for (5) Perhaps.

(4) Moderation.