thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. {'Trumpets
sound.] The king's coming ; I know by his trumpets. ā -
Sirrah, inquire further after me ; I had talk of you last
\,W.T.E.W. 69.] IV. 69.
Ac(y.] ALVS IVELL THAT ENDS IVELL. [Scene HI.
night : though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat ;
go to, follow.
Pm-. I praise God for you. [Excunf.
Scene III. 77u' sa/iu-. A room in the house of the
Countess.
Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords, Gentle-
men, Guards, &c.
King. We lost a jewel of her ; and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it : but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.
Count. 'Tis past, my liege ;
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbear it, and burn on.
King. My honor'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all ;
Though my revenges were high-bent upon him.
And watch 'd the time to shoot.
Laf. This I must say,ā
But first I beg my pardon, ā the young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady.
Offense of mighty note ; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all : he lost a wife.
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes ; whose words all ears took captive ;
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd mistress.
King. Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear. ā Well, call him hither ;ā
We're reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition : ā let him not ask our pardon ;
The nature of his great offense is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
Th' incensing relics of it : let him approach,
A stranger, no offender ; and inform him
So 'tis our will he should.
First Gent. I shall, my liege. \Exit.
King. What says he to your daughter ? have you spoke ?
IV. 70. [a.w t.e.w. 70.
4ci r.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [Scene Iff.
La/. All that he is hath reference to your highness.
King. Then shall we have a match. I've letters sent
me
That set him high in fame.
Enter Bertram, wifh First Gentleman.
Laf. He looks well on't.
King. I am not a day of season,
For thou mayst 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
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord ?
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 infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favor ;
Scorn'd a fair color, 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.
King. Well excus'd :
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 offense,
Crying, " That's good that's gone." Our rasher faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them until we know their grave :
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
V.W.T.K.W. 7t.] IV. 71.
Aci l^.'] ALL'S IVELL THAT ENDS irELL. [Scene IIL
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust :
Our old 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, cesse !
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favor from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter.
That she may quickly come. ā [Bertra in gives a ring to
Lafeu.
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 time, ere she 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 fasten'd to't, ā
This ring was mine ; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token
I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her
ā¢ Of what should stead her most }
Ber. My gracious sovereign.
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.
Count. Son, on my life,
I've seen her wear it ; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
Laf. I'm 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 engag'd : but when I had subscrih'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully
I could not answer in that course of honor
A.S she had made the overture, she ceas'd
IV. 72. [a.w.t.b.w. 73.
Ac/ l\] ALL'S ll^ELL THAT ENDS IVELL. \.Scene III.
In heavy satisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.
King, Plutus himself,
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 enforcement
You got it from her : she call'd the saints to surety
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, ā
Where you have never come, ā or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.
Ber. She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honor;
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me.
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman, ā 'twill not prove so ; ā
And yet I know not : ā 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. ā Take him away. ā
{^Guards seise Bertram,
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little. ā Away with him ! ā
We'll sift this matter further.
Ber. If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. ^Exit, guarded.
King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. Gracious sovereign,
Whether I've 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,
ft.W.T.E.W. 73.] IV. 73.
Wf/ r.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. {Scene HI.
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.
Kiiiii. Sj-cads^^ " Upon his many protestations to marry
me when his wife was dead, I blush to say i' 'le won
me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower : iio vows
are forfeited to me, and my honor's paid to him. He stole
from Florence, taking no leave, and I followed him to
his country for justice: grant it me, O king ! in you it best
lies ; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is
undone. Diana Capulet."
La/. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for
this: I'll none of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,
To bring forth this discovery. ā Seek these suitors : ā
Go speedily and bring again the count.
{^Exeunt Gentlonan and some Attendants.
I am afeard the life of Helen, lady.
Was foully snatch'd.
Count. Now, justice on the doers !
Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded.
King. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you,
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.
Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow and DiANA.
What woman's that.?
Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet :
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honor
Both suffer under this complaint we bring ;
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
King. Come hither, county : do you know these women ?
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them : do they charge me further?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife ?
'Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,
You give away this hand, and that is mine ;
IV. 74. [a.w.t.e.w. 74.
Act K] ALL'S IVELL THA T ENDS WELL. {Scene III.
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine ;
For I by vow am so embodied yours.
That she which marries you must marry me, ā
Eitlier both or none.
Laf. \to Bertram?^ Your reputation comes too short
for my daughter ; you are no husband for her.
Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometimes I have laugh 'd with : let your highness
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honor
Than for to think that I would sink it here.
King. Sir. for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
Till your deeds gain them : fairer prove your honor
'Than in my thought it lies !
Dia. Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.
King. What say'st thou to her ?
Ber. She's impudent, my lord,
And was a common gamester to the camp.
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord ; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him : O, behold this ring.
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel ; yet, for all that.
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp.
If I be one.
Count. He blushes, and 'tis his :
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue.
Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife ;
That ring's a thousand proofs.
King. Methought you said
You saw one here in court could witness it.
Dia. I did, my lord, but loth am to produce
So bad an instrument : his name's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
\Exit an Attendant.
Ber. What of him }
He's quoted for a most perfidious slave.
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debauch'd;
A.W.T.E.W. 75.] IV. 73.
Act y.] ALL'S WELL THA T ENDS WELL. [Scene III
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am I or that or this for what he'll utter.
That will speak any thing ?
King. She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. I think she has : certain it is I lik'd her.
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth :
She knew her distance, and did angle for me.
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives for more fancy ; and, in fine.
Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate : she got the ring ;
And I had that which an inferior might
At market-price have bought.
Dia. I must be patient;
You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,. ā
Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband, ā
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.
Ber. I have it not.
King. What ring was yours, I pray you ?
Dia. Sir, much like
The same upon your finger.
Ki7ig. Know you this ring ? this ring was his of late.
Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.
King. The story, then, goes false, you threw it him
Out of a casement.
Dia. I have spoke the truth.
Ber. My lord, I do confess, the ring was hers.
King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you.-
Enter Parolles, with Attendant.
Is this the man you speak of .'
Dia. Ay, my lord.
King. Tell me, sirrah, ā but tell me true, I charge you,
Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off, ā
^y him and by this woman here what know you ?
Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been
an honorable gentleman : tricks he hath in him, which
gentlemen have.
IV. 76. [a.w.t.e.w. 76.
Act y.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. {Scene //T.
King. Come, come, to the purpose : did he love this
woman ?
Par. Faith, sir, he did love her ; but how ?
King. How, I pra/ you ?
Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a
woman.
King. How is that ?
Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
Kifig. As thou art a knave, and no knave. ā What an
equivocal companion is this !
Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's com-
mand.
Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, jjut a naughty orator.
Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage }
Par. Faith, I know more than I'll speak.
King. But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest ?
Par. Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between
them, as I said ; but more than that, he loved her, ā for,
indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of
Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what : yet I was in
that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their
going to bed ; and of other motions, as promising her mar-
riage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak
of ; therefore I will not speak what I know.
King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say
they are married : but thou art too fine in thy evidence;
therefore stand aside. ā
This ring, you say, was yours }
Dia. Ay, my good lord.
King. Where did you buy it ? or who gave it you ?
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
King. Who lent it you }
Dia. It was not lent me neither.
King. Where did you find it, then ?
Dia I found it not.
King. If it were yours by none of all these ways.
How could you give it him }
Dia. I never gave it him.
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 tirst wife.
Dia. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.
A.W.T.E.W. 77.] IV. 77.
AciV.] ALVS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. \_Sctne itL
King. Take her away ; I do not like her now ;
To prison with her : and away with him. ā ā
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour. ā¢
Dia. 1 11 never tell you.
King. Take her away.
Dza. I'll put in bail, my liege.
Kz'ng. I think thee now some common customer.
Dm. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
A'/;/^.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'm either maid, or else this old man's wife.
\Pointing to Lafen.
King. She does abuse our ears : to prison with her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. ā Stay, royal sir :
^Exit Widow.
The jeweler that owes the ring is sent for.
And he shall surety be. But for this lord.
Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself,
Tliough yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him :
He knows himself my bed he haih dehl'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, ā One that's dead is quick :
And now behold the meaning.
Re-enter Widow, with Helena.
King. Is there no Exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ?
Is't real that I see }
Hel. No, my good lord ;
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.
Ber. Both, both : ā O, pardon !
Hel. O my good lord, when I was like this maid,
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring;
And, look you, here's your letter ; this it says :
" When from my finger you can get this ring,
And are by me with child, &c." This is done :
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won }
IV. 78 [a.w.t.e.w. 78
Aci r.] ALL'S ll^ELL THAT EiVD!; IVELL. {Scene tn.
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue.
Deadly divorce step between me and you ! ā
O my dear mother, do I see you living ?
Laf. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon: ā
\^To ParolIes\ Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher:
so, I thank thee : wait on me home, I'll make sport with
thee : let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
Kitig. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow. ā
[ To Diana.} If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower ;
For I can guess that, by thy honest aid.
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. ā
Of that, and all the progress, more and less.
Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. ^Flourish.
The king's a beggar, now the play is done :
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content ; which we will pay.
With strife to please you, day exceeding day :
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
\Exeunt,
A.w.T.E.w. 79,J IV. 79.
THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM,
Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look, ā
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
She told him stories to delight his ear;
She show'd him favors to allure his eye ;
To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there, ā
Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit.
Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait.
But smile and jest at every gentle offer :
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward
He rose and ran away,ā ah, fool too froward !
Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Under an osier growing by a brook,
A brook where Adon us'd to cool his spleen :
Hot was the day ; she hotter that did look
For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim :
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye.
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.
He spving her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood :
" O Jove," quoth she, " why was not I a flood ! "
T.r.p. 3.] IV. 83.
THE PA SSI ON A TE PILGRIM.
III.
Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Aden's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill :
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds ;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will.
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds :
" Once," quoth she, " did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar.
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth !
See, in my thigh," quoth she, " here was the sore."
She showed hers : he saw more wounds than one.
And blushing fled, and left her all alone.
IV.
Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him :
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
" Even thus," quoth she, " the warlike god embrac'd me,'
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms ;
" Even thus," quoth she," the warlike god unlac'd me,"
As if the boy should use like loving charms ;
" Even thus," quoth she, " he seized on my lips,"
And with her lips on his did act the seizure :
But as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah, that I had my lady at this bay.
To kiss and clip me till I run away !
Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle ;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty ;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle ;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty :
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her.
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing I
IV. 84. [t.p.p. 4.
THE PASSION A TE PILGRIM.
How many tales to please me hath she coin'd,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protcstings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
She burn'd with love, as straw with tire flameth ;
She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out-burneth ;
She fram'd the love, and yet she foil'd the framing;
She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning.
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
VI.
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great twixt thee and me,
Because tiiou lov'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defense.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes ;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign ;
One knight loves both, anrl both in thee remain.
VII.
Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring !
Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded !
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting !
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.
I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have ;
For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will :
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave ;
For why I craved nothing of thee still :
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee, ā
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me,
r p.p. 5.] IV. S5.
THE PASSIONA TE PILGRIM.
VIII.
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance.
Age is full of care ;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather ;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short ;
Youth is nimble, age is lame ;
Youth is hot and bold.
Age is weak and cold ;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee ;
O, my love, my love is young !
Age, I do defy thee : ā
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
IX.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good ;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly ;
A flower that dies when first it gins to bud ;
A brittle glass that's broken presently :
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower.
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh.
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground.
As broken glass no cement can redress, ā
So beauty blemish'd once for ever's lost.
In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
Good night, good rest. Ah, 'neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away ;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care.
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
IV. 86. [t.p.p. 6w
ll
THE PA SSI ON A TE I'lLGRIM.
" Farewell," quoth she, "and come again to-morrow :*
Fare well 1 could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nil! I construe whether :
'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
'T may be, again to make me wander thither:
" Wander," a word for shadows like myself.
As take tlie pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.
XI.
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east !
My heart doth ciiarge tiie watch ; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes.
While Pliilomela sits and sings, I sit and mark.
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark ;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty.
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty ;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight ;
Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace niix'd with sorrow;
For why she sigh'd, and bade me come to-morrow.
Were I with her, the night would post too soon ;
lUit now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon ;