/^Wt>t:>
 
 Widow : " Gentle madam, 
 
 You never had a servant to whose trust 
 Your business was more welcome " 
 
 All's Well that Ends Well Aci IV Sce»e
 
 Copyright, 1901 
 
 By 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
 
 COLLEGf 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ^\ 
 
 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 Preface. 
 
 The First Editions. All's Well that Ends Well ap- 
 peared for the first time in the First Folio. It is certain 
 that no earUer edition existed; the play was mentioned 
 in the Stationers' Register under Nov. 8th, 1623, among 
 the plays not previously entered. The text of the first 
 edition is corrupt in many places, and gives the impres- 
 sion of having been carelessly printed from an imper- 
 fectly revised copy. There is no record of the perform- 
 ance of All 's Well that Ends Well during Shakespeare's 
 lifetime ; the earliest theatrical notices belong to the mid- 
 dle of the eighteenth century. 
 
 The Date of Composition. The remarkable incon- 
 gruity of style characteristic of All's Well that Ends 
 Well — the striking contrast of mature and early work — 
 can only be accounted for by regarding the play as a 
 recast of an earlier version of the comedy. Rhyming 
 lines, the sonnet-like letters, the lyrical dialogues and 
 speeches, remind the reader of such a play as Love's La- 
 hour's Lost. The following passages have not inaptly 
 been described as ' boulders from the old strata embedded 
 in the later deposits ' : — Act I. i. 226-239; L iii. 133-141 ; 
 II. i. 132-213; II. iii. 73-105, 127-146; III. iv. 4-17; IV. 
 iii. 237-245 ; .V. iii. 60-72, 322-337. 
 
 It seems very probable, almost certain, that the play is 
 a revision of ' Love's Labours Wonne,' mentioned by 
 Meres in his Palladis Tamia (1598).. Love's Labours 
 Wonne ' has been variously identified by scholars with
 
 Preface ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing, Taming of the Shrenj, The 
 Tempest. A strong case can, however, be made for the 
 present play, and there is perhaps an allusion to the old 
 title in Helena's words (V. iii. 31 1-3 12) : — 
 
 ' This is done; 
 Will you he mine, now you are doubly won?' 
 
 The play was probably originally a companion play to 
 Love's Labour 's Lost, and was written about the years 
 1590-92. It may well have belonged to the group of 
 early comedies. The story, divested of its tragic inten- 
 sity, may perhaps link it to The Tzvo Gentlemen of Ve- 
 rona ; the original Helena may have been a twin-sister to 
 the ' Helena ' of A Midsummer-Night's Dream. The 
 diction and metre throughout may have resembled the 
 passages to which attention has already been called. 
 
 There is no very definite evidence for the date of the 
 revision of the play. The links which connect it with 
 Hamlet are unmistakeable ; the Countess's advice to Ber- 
 tram anticipates Polonius's advice to Laertes ; Helena's 
 strength of will and clearness of purpose make her a sort 
 of counterpart to Hamlet, as she herself says : — 
 
 ' Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
 Which we ascribe to heaven; the fated sky 
 Gives us free scope, only doth backzvard pull 
 Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull' 
 
 (I. i. 236-9). 
 
 Furthermore, the name ' Corambus ' (IV. ii. 185) recalls 
 the * Corambis ' of the First Quarto of Hamlet: similarly 
 the name ' Escalus ' is the name of the Governor in Mcas- 
 iire for Measure. In the latter play, indeed, we have 
 almost the same situation as in Alll's Well, — the honest 
 intrigue of a betrothed to win an irresponsive lover. 
 Finally, the undoing of the braggart Parolles recalls Fal- 
 staff's exposure in Henry IV., and Malvolio's humiliation 
 in Twelfth Night. All things considered, the play, as we 
 have it, may safely be dated, ' about 1602.'
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Preface 
 
 The Source of the Plot. The story of Helena and Ber- 
 tram was derived by Shakespeare from the Decameron 
 through the medium of Paynter's translation in the Palace 
 of Pleasure (1566). The Novels of the Third Day of 
 the Decameron tell of those lovers v^ho have overcome 
 insuperable obstacles ; they are, in fact, stories of ' Love's 
 Labours Won,' and if Shakespeare had turned to the Ital- 
 ian, the original title * Love's Labour's Won' may have 
 been suggested by the words connecting the Novels of the 
 Second and Third Days. The Ninth Novel of the Third 
 Day narrates how ' Giletta, a physician's daughter of 
 Narbon, healed the French King of a Fistula, for reward 
 whereof she demanded Beltramo, Count of Rossiglione, to 
 husband. The Count being married against his will, for 
 despite fled to Florence and loved another. Giletta, his 
 wife, by policy found means to be with her husband in 
 place of his lover, and was begotten with child of two 
 sons ; which known to her husband, he received her 
 again, and afterwards he lived in great honour and fe- 
 Hcity.' 
 
 The following are among the most noteworthy of 
 Shakespeare's variations from his original: — (i.) the 
 whole interest of the story is centred in the heroine — ac- 
 cording to Coleridge, Shakespeare's ' loveliest creation ' ; 
 to this character-study all else in the play is subordi- 
 nated; the poor Helen of All's Well, unlike the wealthy 
 Giletta of the Novel, derives ' no dignity or interest from 
 place or circumstances,' and rests for all our sympathy 
 and respect solely upon the truth and intensity of her af- 
 fections ; (ii.) the moral character of Bertram, the Bel- 
 tramo of the Novel, is darkened ; his personal beauty and 
 valour is emphasized; while (iii.) Shakespeare has em- 
 bodied his evil genius in the character of the vile Parolles, 
 of whom there is no hint in the original story; (iv.) simi- 
 larly, generous old Lafeu, the Countess, — ' like one of 
 Titian's old ladies, reminding us still amid their wrinkles 
 of that soul of beauty and sensibility which must have
 
 Preface ALL 'S WELL 
 
 animated them when young ' — the Steward, and the 
 Clown, are entirely his own creations. 
 
 Duration of Action. The time of the play is eleven 
 days, distributed over three months, arranged as follows 
 by Mr. Daniel (Trans, of Nezv Shakespeare Soc, ^^77- 
 
 79) -— 
 
 Day I, Act I. i. Interval. Bertram's journey to Court. 
 Day 2, Act I. ii. and iii. Interval. Helena's journey. 
 Day 3, Act II. i. and ii. Interval. Cure of the King's 
 malady. Day 4, Act II. iii., iv. and v. Interval. Hel- 
 ena's return to Rousillon. Bertram's journey to Flor- 
 ence. Day 5, Act HI. i. and ii. Day 6, Act III. iii. and 
 iv. Interval — some two months. Day 7, Act III. v. 
 Day 8, Act III. vi; and vii. ; Act IV. i., ii. and iii. Day 
 9, Act IV. iv. Interval. Bertram's return to Rousillon. 
 Helena's return to Marseilles. Day 10, Act IV. v. ; Act 
 V. i. Day 11, Act V. ii. and iii.
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Critical Comments. 
 
 L 
 
 Argument. 
 
 L Upon the death of a celebrated physician, his 
 daughter Helena is given a home with the Countess of 
 Rousillon, and she there falls desperately in love with 
 the Countess's son, Bertram. His mother discovers the 
 attachment, but is not displeased at it, for Helena, 
 though poor and unknown, is a woman of much worth. 
 Bertram, however, pays no heed to Helena, all his 
 thoughts being turned to active service with the King 
 of France, under whose protection he places himself 
 after the death of his father. The King is suffering at 
 this time from a disease which has been pronounced in- 
 curable. Helena, hearing of the King's ailment, secures 
 the Countess's permission to go and offer him a prescrip- 
 tion left her by her father. 
 
 H. Helena obtains an audience with the King, and 
 after much persuasion induces him to try her remedy, 
 exacting only a royal promise that, in the event of his 
 being cured, the monarch shall bestow upon her the 
 hand of a gentleman of her choosing. The cure is ef- 
 fected, and Helena chooses Bertram. The young Count 
 disdains the match, but is forced to consent to the nup- 
 tials, under peril of the King's displeasure. But no 
 sooner is the ceremony performed than Bertram departs 
 for the Florentine war, without so much as kissing his 
 bride. 
 
 II L Helena is sent home to the Countess with a let- 
 ter from Bertram to the effect that he will never recog-
 
 Comments ALL'S WELL 
 
 nize his wife until she can obtain possession of a ring, a 
 family heirloom, from his finger, and become with child 
 by him — to which conditions he subscribes a "never." 
 He also renounces his family estates because of her, 
 which so grieves the young woman that she departs, no 
 one knows whither, in order not to keep him from his 
 home. In Florence, the Duke has made Bertram gen- 
 eral of his horse, and the Count distinguishes himself in 
 battle. Helena arrives in the city disguised as a pilgrim, 
 and learns from a widow that Bertram has been making 
 dishonourable proposals to her daughter, Diana. Hel- 
 ena, seeing an opportunity, through Diana, to work out 
 the seemingly impossible conditions imposed by her 
 husband, prevails upon the widow to aid her project. 
 
 IV. In furtherance of Helena's plot, Diana obtains 
 from Bertram the much-prized ring, and make<^ an as- 
 signation with him, at which, however, the woman he 
 meets is not Diana, as he supposes, but Helena. Shortly 
 afterwards he returns to his mother, the Countess, 
 who has been mourning Helena as dead. 
 
 V. The King, at this time, is visiting at the Countess's 
 palace in Rousillon. He becomes reconciled with Ber- 
 tram, who had left the court surreptitiously, and is on 
 the point of giving his consent to the young Count's 
 marriage with another lady, when he detects a ring upon 
 Bertram's finger that he himself had formerly given 
 Helena, and which she had placed upon her husband's 
 finger in Florence. Bertram cannot give a satisfactory 
 explanation of its presence, and the King suspects him 
 of having laid violent hands upon his wife, when the 
 lost Helena appears upon the scene, tells the truth con- 
 cerning the Florentine assignation, and assures her 
 husband that both his conditions have been fufilled. 
 The repentant Bertram gladly acknowledges her as his 
 wife. 
 
 McSpadden : Shakespearian Synopses.
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 IL 
 
 Helena. 
 
 In thp character of Juliet we have seen the passionate 
 and the imaginative blended in an equal degree, and in 
 the highest conceivable degree as combined with deli- 
 cate female nature. In Helena we have a modification of 
 character altogether distinct; allied, indeed, to JuHet 
 as a picture of fervent, enthusiastic, self-forgetting love, 
 but differing wholly from her in other respects; for 
 Helena is the union of strength of passion with strength 
 of character. 
 
 " To be tremblingly alive to gentle impressions, and 
 yet be able to preserve, when the prosecution of a de- 
 sign requires it, an immovable heart amidst even the 
 most imperious causes of subduing emotion, is perhaps 
 not an impossible constitution of mind, but it is the ut- 
 most and rarest endowment of humanity." 
 
 Such a character, almost as difhcult to delineate in fic- 
 tion as to find in real life, has Shakspeare given to us in 
 Helena; touched with the most soul-subduing pathos, 
 and developed with the most consummate skill. 
 
 Helena, as a woman, is more passionate than imagi- 
 native; and, as a character, she bears the same rela- 
 tion to Juliet that Isabel bears to Portia. There is equal 
 unity of purpose and effect, with much less of the glow 
 of imagery and the external colouring of poetry in the 
 sentiments, language, and details. It is passion devel- 
 oped under its most profound and serious aspect; as 
 in Isabella, we have the serious and the thoughtful, not 
 the brilliant side of intellect. Both Helena and Isabel 
 are distinguished by high mental powers, tinged with a 
 melancholy sweetness; but in Isabella the serious and 
 energetic part of the character is founded in religious 
 principle, in Helena it is founded in deep passion. 
 
 There never was, perhaps, a more beautiful picture 
 of a woman's love, cherished in secret, not self-consu- 
 
 7.
 
 Comments ALL *S WELL 
 
 ming in silent languishment — not pining in thought — not 
 passive and " desponding over its idol " — but patient 
 and hopeful, strong in its own intensity, and sustained 
 by its own fond faith. The passion here reposes upon 
 itself for all its interest; it derives nothing from art or 
 ornament or circumstance; it has nothing of the pic- 
 turesque charm or glowing romance of Juliet; nothing 
 of the poetical splendour of Portia, or the vestal gran- 
 deur of Isabel. The situation of Helena is the most 
 painful and degrading in which a woman can be placed. 
 She is poor and lowly; she loves a man who is far her 
 superior in rank, who repays her love with indifference, 
 and rejects her hand with scorn. She marries him 
 against his will; he leaves her with contumely on the 
 day of their marriage, and makes his return to her arms 
 depend on conditions apparently impossible. All the 
 circumstances and details Avith which Helena is sur- 
 rounded are shocking to our feelings and wounding to 
 our delicacy, and yet the beauty of the character is made 
 to triumph over all; and Shakspeare, resting for all 
 his effect on its internal resources and its genuine truth 
 and sweetness, has not even availed himself of some 
 extraneous advantages with which Helena is represented 
 in the original story. She is the Giletta di Narbonna 'of 
 Boccaccio. In the Italian tale, Giletta is the daughter 
 of a celebrated physician attached to the court of Rous- 
 sillon; she is represented as a rich heiress, who rejects 
 many suitors of worth and rank, in consequence of her 
 secret attachment to the young Bertram de Roussillon. 
 She cures the King of France of a grievous distemper, 
 by one of her father's prescriptions; and she asks and 
 receives as her reward the young Count of Roussillon 
 as her wedded husband. He forsakes her on their 
 wedding day, and she retires, by his order, to his ter- 
 ritory of Roussillon. There she is received with honour, 
 takes state upon her in her husband's absence as the 
 '' lady of the land," administers justice, and rules her 
 lord's dominions so wisely and so well, that she is uni-
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 versally loved and reverenced by his subjects. In the 
 mean time, the Count, instead of rejoining her, flies to 
 Tuscany, and the rest of the story is closely followed in 
 the drama. The beauty, wisdom, and royal demeanour 
 of Giletta are charmingly described, as well as her 
 fervent love for Bertram. But Helena, in the play, 
 derives no dignity or interest from place or circumstance, 
 and rests for all our sympathy and respect solely upon 
 the truth and intensity of her affections. 
 She is indeed represented to us as one 
 
 " 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 called mistress." 
 
 As her dignity is derived from mental power, without 
 any alloy of pride, so her humility has a peculiar grace. 
 If she feels and repines over her lowly birth, it is merely 
 as an obstacle which separates her from the man she 
 loves. She is more sensible to his greatness than her 
 own littleness; she is continually looking from herself 
 up to him, not from him down to herself. She has been 
 bred up under the same roof with him; she has adored 
 him from infancy. Her love is not " th' infection taken 
 in at the eyes," nor kindled by youthful romance: it ap- 
 pears to have taken root in her being; to have grown 
 with her years; and to have gradually absorbed all her 
 thoughts and faculties, until her fancy " carries no favour 
 in it but Bertram's," and " there is no Hving, none, if 
 Bertram be away." 
 
 It may be said that Bertram, arrogant, wayward, and 
 heartless, does not justify this ardent and deep devo- 
 tion. But Helena does not behold him with our eyes; 
 but as he is " sanctified in her idolatrous fancy." Dr. 
 Johnson says he cannot reconcile himself to a man who 
 marries Helena like a coward, and leaves her like a 
 profligate. This is much too severe; in the first place, 
 there is no necessity that we should reconcile ourselves
 
 Comments ALL'S WELL 
 
 to him. In this consists a part of the wonderful beauty 
 of the character of Helena — a part of its womanly truth; 
 which Johnson, who accuses Bertram, and those who so 
 plausibly defend him, did not understand. If it never 
 happened in real life, that a woman, richly endued with 
 heaven's best gifts, loved with all her heart, and soul, 
 and strength, a man unequal to or unworthy of her, and 
 to whose faults herself alone was blind — I would give up 
 the point; but if it be in nature, why should it not be in 
 Shakspeare? 
 
 We are not to look into Bertram's character for the 
 spring and source of Helena's love for him, but into 
 her own. She loves Bertram — because she loves him! — 
 a woman's reason, but here, and sometimes elsewhere, 
 all-sufficient. 
 
 And although Helena tells herself that she loves in 
 vain, a conviction stronger than reason tells her that 
 she does not : her love is like a religion, pure, holy, 
 and deep ; the blessedness to which she has hfted her 
 thoughts is forever before her; to despair would be a 
 crime — it would be to cast herself away and die. The 
 faith of her affection, combining with the natural energy 
 of her character, believing all things possible, makes 
 them so. It could say to the mountain of pride which 
 stands between her and her hopes, '' Be thou removed! " 
 and it is removed. This is the solution of her behaviour 
 in the marriage scene, where Bertram, with obvious re- 
 luctance and disdain, accepts her hand, which the King, 
 his feudal lord and guardian, forces on him. Her maid- 
 enly feeling is at first shocked, and she shrinks back: — 
 
 " That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am glad : 
 Let the rest go." 
 
 But shall she weakly relinquish the golden opportunity, 
 and dash the cup from her lips at the moment it is pre- 
 sented? Shall she cast away the treasure for which she 
 has ventured both life and honour, when it is just within 
 her grasp? Shall she, after compromising her feminine 
 
 10
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 delicacy by the public disclosure of her preference, be 
 thrust back into shame, " to blush out the remainder of 
 her life," and die a poor, lost, scorned thing? This would 
 be very pretty and interesting and characteristic in Viola 
 or Ophelia, but not at all consistent with that high de- 
 termined spirit, that moral energy with which Helena 
 is portrayed. Pride is the only obstacle opposed to her. 
 She is not despised and rejected as a woman, but as a 
 poor physician's daughter ; and this, to an understand- 
 ing so clear, so strong, so just as Helena's, is not felt as 
 an unpardonable insult. The mere pride of rank and 
 birth is a prejudice of which she cannot comprehend 
 the force, because her mind towers so immeasurably 
 above it; and, compared to the infinite love which swells 
 within her own bosom, it sinks into nothing. She cannot 
 conceive that he, to whom she has devoted her heart 
 and truth, her soul, her life, her service, must not one 
 day love her in return; and, once her own beyond the 
 reach of fate, that her cares, her caresses, her unwearied 
 patient tenderness, will not at last '' win her lord to look 
 upon her ": — 
 
 " For time will bring on summer, 
 When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns, 
 And be as sweet as sharp." 
 
 It is this fond faith which, hoping all things, enables 
 her to endure all things ; which hallows and dignifies 
 the surrender of her woman's pride, making it a sacrifice 
 on which virtue and love throw a mingled incense. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson : Characteristics of Women. 
 
 in. 
 
 Bertram. 
 
 It undoubtedly lessens the interest of the play that 
 Shakespeare should not have given Bertram some more 
 estimable qualities along with the all too youthful and
 
 Comments ALL *S WELL 
 
 unchivalrous ones which he possesses. The Poet has 
 here been guilty of a certain negUgence, which shows 
 that it was only to parts of the play that he gave his whole 
 mind. Bertram is right enough in refusing to have a 
 wife thrust upon him against his will, simply because the 
 King has a debt of gratitude to pay. But this first 
 motive for refusing gives place to one with which we 
 have less sympathy: 'to wit, pride of rank, which makes 
 him look down on Helena as being of inferior birth, 
 though king, courtiers, and his own mother consider 
 her fit to rank with the best. Even this, however, need 
 not lower Bertram irretrievably in our esteem; but he 
 adds to it traits of unmanliness, even of baseness. For 
 instance, he enjoins Helena, through Parolles, to invent 
 some explanation of his sudden departure which will 
 make the King believe it to have been a necessity; and 
 then he leaves her, not, as he falsely declares, for two 
 days, but for ever. His readiness to marry a daughter 
 of Lafeu the moment the report of Helena's death has 
 reached him is a very extraordinary preparation for the 
 reunion of the couple at the end of the play, and re- 
 minds us unpleasantly of the exactly similar incident in 
 Much Ado About Nothing. But, worst of aH, and an 
 indisputable dramatic mistake, is his entangling himself, 
 just before the final reconciliation, in a web of mean lies 
 with reference to the Italian girl to whom he had laid 
 siege in Tuscany. 
 
 It was to make Helena's position more secure, and 
 to avoid any suspicion of the adventuress about her, 
 that Shakespeare invented the character of the Countess, 
 that motherly friend whose affection sets a seal on all 
 her merits. In the same way Parolles was invented with 
 the purpose of making Bertram less guilty. Bertram is 
 to be considered as ensnared by this old " fool, notorious 
 liar* and coward " (as Helena at once calls him), who 
 figures in the play as his evil genius. 
 
 Brandes : William Shakespeare. 
 
 12
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 Even at the last, Bertram's attainment is but small; 
 he is still no more than a potential piece of worthy man- 
 hood. We cannot suppose that Shakspere has repre- 
 sented him thus without a purpose. Does not the Poet 
 wish us to feel that although much remains to be 
 wrought in Bertram, his welfare is now assured? The 
 courageous title of the play, All 's Well that Ends Well, 
 is like an utterance of the heart of Helena, who has 
 strength and endurance to attain the end, and who will 
 measure things, not by the pains and trials of the way, 
 not by the dubious and difficult means, but by that end, 
 by the accomplished issue. We need not, therefore^ 
 concern ourselves any longer about Bertram; he is safe 
 in the hands of Helena; she will fashion him as he should 
 be fashioned. Bertram is at length delivered from the 
 snares and delusions which beset his years of haughty 
 ignorance and dullness of the heart; he is doubly won 
 by Helena; therefore he cannot wander far, therefore 
 he cannot finally be lost. 
 
 Dowden: Shakspere^ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Parolles. 
 
 Parolles is a counterfoil of Helena, inasmuch ate like 
 her he is ambitious of consorting with a higher rank, but 
 unlike her is destitute of claims to honour of any kind. 
 Lafeu characterizes him as an empty upstart, with a 
 distinction worthy the admirer of Helena: "You are 
 more saucy with lords and honourable personages than 
 the commission of your birth and (note the annexation) 
 virtue gives you heraldry." 
 
 The mistake of Bertram, in his estimation of Parolles, 
 is counterpart of his disregard and disdain for Helena, 
 and one error promotes the other, as the vapouring 
 scoundrel is chargeable with some part of the Count's 
 misconduct by encouragement and suggestion. While 
 one error lasts, the other has little chance of being 
 
 13
 
 Comments ALL 'S WELL 
 
 recognized; and it is shrewdly remarked, in the con- 
 versation of the Lords, that the wronged wife would 
 have a better chance of justice, when her husband should 
 be taught, in the exposure of Parolles, to be mistrustful 
 of his sagacity of character. " I would gladly have him 
 see his company anatomized; that he might take a meas- 
 ure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had 
 set this counterfeit." 
 
 But from another point of view Parolles is a counter- 
 foil, if we should not rather say a counterpart, of Ber- 
 tram himself. It almost seems as if the conception of 
 the bescarfed poltroon were invented to follow up the 
 contrast with Bertram, the handsome but false, whose 
 '' moral parts " are far from being, as the King would 
 have them, in agreement with his prepossessing outside. 
 The weak point of Parolles, in respect to personal cour- 
 age, places him in contrast so distinct to the soldier-like 
 Bertram, that the latter escapes some of the disgrace 
 of correspondence on other points with his worthless 
 protege, who is not only '' a most notable coward, but 
 an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, 
 the owner of no one good quality worth your Lordship's 
 entertainment." 
 
 It is the completion of the humiliation of Bertram, 
 that the follower he had exposed and laughed at is 
 brought in as a witness against him, for misconduct we 
 can hardly say less degrading; and Parolles with his 
 petition to his arch-enemy Lafeu, " It lies in you, my 
 lord, to bring, me in some grace, for you did bring me 
 out," is really provocative of comparison with Bertram 
 crying for pardon to Helena. 
 
 The name of Parolles is, of course, allusive to wordi- 
 ness; it is played upon indeed in this sense, and he is 
 called '' the armipotent linguist." The command of 
 tongue that justifies his name, is wonderfully reconciled 
 with his being, though not solely as he is a coward, but 
 " a great part," fool. It is very satisfactory to observe 
 how Lafeu, the old courtier, who has all the principle^ 
 
 14
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 and experience, and consideration that the youthful Ber- 
 tram lacks, is disgusted with ParoUes, but tolerates, not 
 to say enjoys with gusto, the gossiping pleasantry of the 
 idle clown. 
 
 Lloyd : Critical Essays on the Plays of Shakespeare. 
 
 V. 
 
 A Fine Contrast to Lady Capulet. 
 
 This old Countess of Roussillon is a charming sketch. 
 She is like one of Titian's old women, who still, amid 
 their wrinkles, remind us of that soul of beauty and sen- 
 sibility which must have animated them when young. 
 She is a fine contrast to Lady Capulet — benign, cheer- 
 ful, and afifectionate; she has a benevolent enthusiasm, 
 which neither age nor sorrow nor pride can wear away. 
 Thus, when she is brought to believe that Helena 
 nourishes a secret attachment for her son, she ob- 
 serves: — 
 
 " Even so it was with me when I was young ! 
 
 This thorn 
 
 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong, 
 
 It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
 
 When love's strong passion is impress'd in youth." 
 
 Her fond, maternal love for Helena, whom she has 
 brought up, her pride in her good qualities, overpower- 
 ing all her own prejudices of rank and birth, are most 
 natural in such a mind; and her indignation against her 
 son, however strongly expressed, never forgets the 
 mother. 
 
 " What angel shall 
 Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive 
 Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear 
 And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
 Of greatest justice. 
 
 Which of them both 
 
 Is dearest to me — I have no skill in sense 
 To make distinction." 
 
 IS
 
 Comments ALL *S WELL 
 
 This is very skilfully, as well as delicately conceived. 
 In rejecting those poetical and accidental advantages 
 which Giletta possesses in the original story, Shak- 
 speare has substituted the beautiful character of the 
 Countess; and he has contrived, that, as the character 
 of Helena should rest for its internal charm on the depth 
 of her own affections, so it should depend for its external 
 interest on the affection she inspires. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson: Characteristics of Women. 
 
 Almost everybody falls in love with the Countess. 
 And, truly, one so meek, and sweet, and venerable, who 
 can help loving her? or who, if he can resist her, will 
 dare to own it? We can almost find in our heart to adore 
 the beauty of youth; yet this blessed old creature is 
 enough to persuade us that age may be more beautiful 
 still. Her generous sensibility to native worth amply 
 atones for her son's mean pride of birth; all her honours 
 of rank and place she would gladly resign, to have been 
 the mother of the poor orphan left in her care. Camp- 
 bell says, " She redeems nobility by reverting to nature." 
 Verplanck thinks, as well he may, that the Poet's special 
 purpose in this play was to set forth the precedence of 
 innate over circumstantial distinctions. Yet observe 
 with what a catholic spirit he teaches this great lesson, 
 recognizing the noble man in the nobleman, and telling 
 us that none know so well how to prize the nobilities of 
 nature, as those who, like the King and the Countess in 
 this play, have experienced the nothingness of all other 
 claims. 
 
 Hudson: The Works of Shakespeare. 
 
 VL 
 
 Composition and Rank. 
 
 The composition is not as successful as in most of his 
 [Shakspeare's] later comedies; several of the charac- 
 
 i6
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 ters, such as the Cmntess md the Duke of Florence, 
 Lafeu, and Parolles, Violenta, and Mariana, do indeed 
 take some external, but no internal part in the ac- 
 tion. The reason of this unalterable and chief defect 
 of the whole lies, it seems to me, in the subject-matter 
 of the piece, which is not exactly happily chosen; for 
 it must necessarily be ofifensive to a fine sense of feeling 
 when, in courtship, woman is the wooer, and especially 
 when this unwomanly proceeding — however well mo- 
 tived and excusable it may appear — is not merely nar- 
 rated (as in Boccaccio's novel) but represented to us in 
 a vivid, dramatic, and palpable form. To overcome this 
 difficulty, and more particularly to make the surprising 
 conclusion — the heroine's attainment of her wish — ap- 
 pear natural, the poet had, as it were, to take into his 
 service a number of figures simply as motives and to 
 bring the action to a close. But the very choice of this 
 subject, and his adhering to it, in spite of its obvious 
 difficulties, shows us the youthful poet, the youthful 
 pleasure in that which is unusual, the youthful incHna- 
 tion to venture upon a task the difficulties of which have 
 not been sufficiently considered. 
 
 Ulrici: Shakspeare's Dramatic Art. 
 
 All 's Well that Ends Well is one of the most pleasing 
 of our author's comedies. The interest is, however, 
 more of a serious than of a comic nature. The character 
 of Helena is one of great sweetness and delicacy. She 
 is placed in circumstances of the most critical kind, and 
 has to court her husband both as a virgin and a wife; 
 yet the most scrupulous nicety of female modesty is not 
 once violated. There is not one thought or action that 
 ought to bring a blush into her cheeks, or that for a 
 moment lessens her in our esteem. Perhaps the ro- 
 mantic attachment of a beautiful and virtuous girl to 
 one placed above her hopes by the circumstances of 
 birth and fortune, was never so exquisitely expressed as 
 
 17
 
 Comments ALL'S WELL 
 
 in the reflections which she utters when young Rousillon 
 leaves his mother's house, under whose protection she 
 has been brought up with him, to repair to the French 
 king's court. 
 
 The interest excited by this beautiful picture of a fond 
 and innocent heart is kept up afterwards by her reso- 
 lution to follow him to France, the success of her ex- 
 periment in restoring the King's health, her demanding 
 Bertram in marriage as a recompense, his leaving her 
 in disdain, her interview with him afterwards disguised 
 as Diana, a young lady whom he importunes with his 
 secret addresses, and their final reconciliation when the 
 consequences of her stratagem and the proofs of her 
 love are fully made known. The persevering gratitude 
 of the French king to his benefactress, who cures him 
 of a languishing distemper by a prescription hereditary 
 in her family, the indulgent kindness of the Countess, 
 whose pride of birth yields, almost without a struggle, 
 to her aftection for Helena, the honesty and uprightness 
 of the good old lord Lafeu, make very interesting parts 
 of the picture. The wilful stubbornness and youthful 
 petulance of Bertram are also very admirably described. 
 The comic part of the play turns on the folly, boasting, 
 and cowardice of Parolles, a parasite and hanger-on of 
 Bertram's, the detection of whose false pretensions to 
 bravery and honour forms a very amusing episode. He 
 is first found out by the old lord Lafeu, who says, " The 
 soul of this man is his clothes "; and it is proved after- 
 wards that his heart is in his tongue, and that both are 
 false and hollow. The adventure of *' the bringing ofif of 
 his drum " has become proverbial as a satire on all 
 ridiculous and blustering undertakings which the person 
 never means to perform. 
 
 Hazlitt: Characters of Shakspear's Plays. 
 
 The comic scenes, and the general graceful ease and 
 fluency of its diction, give an air of lightness and variety 
 
 i8
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Comments 
 
 to the play that are wanting in the novel. The mere 
 story is not productive of more effect in one than in the 
 other, and the drama makes no pretensions to rank in 
 the first order of excellence. But a value is conferred 
 upon Shakspeare's performance beyond its dramatic 
 merit, by its being the repository of much sententious 
 wisdom, and numerous passages of remarkable ele- 
 gance. A single speech of the King may be referred to 
 as an instance of both, and Helena's description of her 
 hopeless passion may be selected as exquisitely beauti- 
 ful. 
 
 Skottowe : Life of Skakspeare. 
 
 Shakespeare departed widely from the story in its 
 earlier form by the greater prominence given to the part 
 of Helena and the singular sweetness and devotion which 
 irradiate her whole course. Coleridge thought her 
 Shakespeare's loveliest creation. The portraiture of her 
 character is touched throughout with exquisite delicacy 
 and skill. Helena suffers, however, from the atmos- 
 phere of the play, which is distinctly repellent; it is dif- 
 ficult to resist the feeling that, conceding all that the 
 play demands in concentration of interest upon the single 
 end to be achieved, Helena cheapens the love she finally 
 wins by a sacrifice greater than love could ask or could 
 afford to receive. And when the sacrifice is made and 
 the end secured, the victory of love is purely external; 
 there is no inward and deathless unity of passion be- 
 tween the lovers like that which united Posthumus and 
 Imogen in life and Romeo and Juliet in death. 
 
 The play must be interpreted broadly in the light of 
 Shakespeare's entire work; in this light it finds its place 
 as the expression of a passing mood of deep and almost 
 cynical distrust; it is full of that searching irony which 
 from time to time finds utterance in the poet's work 
 and was inevitable in a mind of such range of vision. 
 It is well to remember, also, that in this play the poet, 
 
 19
 
 Comments 
 
 for the sake of throwing a single quality into the highest 
 relief, secured entire concentration of attention by dis- 
 regarding or ignoring other qualities and relations of 
 equal importance and authority. This was what Brown- 
 ing did in his much misunderstood poem *' The Statue 
 and the Bust." It is always a perilous experiment, be- 
 cause it involves so much intelligent cooperation on 
 the part of the reader. It is a triumph of Shakespeare's 
 art that Helena's purity not only survives the dangers to 
 which she exposes it, but takes on a kind of saintly 
 whiteness in the corruption in which she plays her peril- 
 ous part. 
 Mabie: William Shakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and Man,
 
 All's Well that Ends Well.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONAE, 
 
 King of France. 
 
 Duke of Florence. 
 
 Bertram^ Count of Rousillon. 
 
 Lafeu, an old lord. 
 
 Parolles, a follower of Bertram. 
 
 Steward, ) servants to the Countess 
 
 Lavache, a clown, ) of Rousillon. 
 
 A Page. 
 
 Countess of Rousillon, mother to Bertram. 
 Helena, a gentlewomaii protected by the Countess. 
 An old Widow of Florence. 
 Diana, daughter to the Widow. 
 
 ViOLENTA, ") . 
 
 yr > neighbours and friends to the Widow. 
 
 Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine. 
 Scene: Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles.
 
 ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 Scene I. 
 
 Rousillon. The Count's palace. 
 
 Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and 
 La feu, all in black. 
 
 Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a sec- 
 ond husband. 
 
 Ber. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's 
 death anew : but I must attend his majesty's 
 command, to whom I am now in ward, ever- 
 more in subjection. 
 
 Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ; 
 you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all 
 times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to 
 you; whose worthiness would stir it up where lo 
 it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such 
 abundance. 
 
 Count. What hope is there of his majesty's am.end- 
 ment? 
 
 Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; 
 under whose practices he hath persecuted time 
 with hope, and finds no other advantage in the 
 process but only the losing of hope by time. 
 
 Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, — O, 
 
 that ' had ' ! how sad a passage 'tis ! — whose 20 
 
 23
 
 Act I. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL 
 
 skill was ^Jniosr as gf^at as his honesty; had 
 it stretched so far, would have made nature im- 
 mortal, and death should have play for lack of 
 work. Would, for the king's sake, he were liv- 
 ing ! I think it would be the death of the king's 
 disease. 
 
 Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam ? 
 
 Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it 
 was his great right to be so, — Gerard de Nar- 
 bon. 30 
 
 Laf. He v/as excellent indeed, madam : the king very 
 lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly : 
 he was skilful enough to have lived still, if 
 knowledge could be set up against mortality. 
 
 Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes 
 of? 
 
 Laf. A fistula, my lord. 
 
 Ber. I heard not of it before. 
 
 Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gen- 
 tlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? 40 
 
 Count. His sole child, my lord ; and bequeathed to 
 my overlooking. I have those hopes of her 
 good that her education promises ; her disposi- 
 tions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer ; 
 for where an unclean mind carries virtuous 
 qualities, there commendations go with pity; 
 they are virtues and traitors too : in her they are 
 the better for their simpleness ; she derives her 
 honesty and achieves her goodness. 
 
 Laf. Your commendations, madam, gti from her 50 
 tears. 
 
 Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her 
 
 24
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. i. 
 
 praise in. The remembrance of her father never 
 approaches her heart but the tyranny of her 
 sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. 
 No more of this, Helena, go to, no more ; lest 
 it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to 
 have — 
 
 Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. 
 
 Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead ; 60 
 excessive grief the enemy to the living. 
 
 Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess 
 makes it soon mortal. 
 
 Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. 
 
 Laf. How understand we that ? 
 
 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy 
 father 
 In manners, as in shape ! thy blood and virtue 
 Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness 
 Share with thy birthright ! Love all, trust a few, 
 Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 70 
 
 Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
 Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence. 
 But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will. 
 That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down. 
 Fall on thy head ! Farewell, my lord ; 
 'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord. 
 Advise him. 
 
 Laf. He cannot want the best 
 
 That shall attend his love. 
 
 Count. Heaven bless him ! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit. 
 
 Bcr. [To Helena^ The best wishes that can be forged 80 
 in your thoughts be servants to you ! Be com- 
 fortable to my mother, your mistress, and make 
 much of her. 
 
 25
 
 Act I. Sc. i. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : you must hold the credit 
 
 of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Laf en. 
 
 Hel. O, were that all ! I think not on my father ; 
 
 And these great tears grace his remembrance more 
 
 Than those I shed for him. What was he like ? 
 
 I have forgot him : my imagination 
 
 Carries no favour in 't but Bertram's. 90 
 
 I am undone : there is no living, none, 
 
 If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one 
 
 That I should love a bright particular star 
 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
 
 In his bright radiance and collateral light 
 
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
 
 The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
 
 The hind that would be mated by the lion 
 
 Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, 
 
 To see him. every hour; to sit and draw 100 
 
 His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls. 
 
 In our heart's table ; heart too capable 
 
 Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : 
 
 But now he 's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
 
 Must sanctify his reUques. Who comes here? 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 [Aside] One that goes with him : I love him for his sake ; 
 And yet I know him a notorious liar, 
 Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
 Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him. 
 That they take place, when virtue's steely bones no 
 Look bleak i' the cold wind : withal, full oft we see 
 Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 
 
 Par. Save you, fair queen ! 
 
 26
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. i. 
 
 Hel. And you, monarch ! 
 
 Par. No. 
 
 Hel. And no. 
 
 Par. Are you meditating on virginity ? 
 
 HeL Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: 
 let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to 
 virginity ; how may we barricado it against him ? 120 
 
 Par. Keep him out. 
 
 Hel. But he assails ; and our virginity, though val- 
 iant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us 
 some warlike resistance. 
 
 Par. There is none: man, sitting down before you, 
 will undermine you and blow you up. 
 
 Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and 
 blowers up ! Is there no military policy, how 
 virgins might blow up men ? 
 
 Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier 130 
 be blown up : marry, . in blowing him down 
 again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose 
 your city. It is not politic in the common- 
 wealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of 
 virginity is rational increase, and there was 
 never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That 
 you were made of is metal to make virgins. 
 Virginity by being once lost may be ten times 
 found ; by being ever kept, it is ever lost : 'tis 
 too cold a companion ; away with 't ! 140 
 
 Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I 
 die a virgin. 
 
 Par. There 's little can be said in 't ; 'tis against the 
 rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir- 
 ginity, is to accuse your mothers ; which is most 
 
 27
 
 Act I. Sc. i. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself 
 is a virgin : virginity murders itself ; and should 
 be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, 
 as a desperate offendress against nature. Vir- 
 ginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; con- 150 
 sumes itself to the very paring and so dies with 
 feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is 
 peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is 
 the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not ; 
 you cannot choose but lose by 't ; out with 't ! 
 within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a 
 goodly increase ; and the principal itself not 
 much the worse : away with 't ! 
 
 Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own 
 liking ? 
 
 Par. Let me see : marry, ill, to like him that ne'er 160 
 it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss 
 with lying ; the longer kept, the less worth : off 
 with 't while 'tis vendible : answer the time of 
 request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears 
 her cap out of fashion ; richly suited, but un- 
 suitable : just Hke the brooch and the tooth-pick, 
 which wear not now. Your date is better in 
 your pie and your porridge than in your cheek : 
 and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one 
 of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it eats 170 
 drily ; marry, 'tis a withered pear ; it was for- 
 merly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: 
 will you any thing with it? 
 
 Hel. Not my virginity yet. — [You 're for the Court;] 
 There shall your master have a thousand loves, 
 A mother and a mistress and a friend, 
 A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 
 
 28
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. i. 
 
 A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
 
 A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ; 
 
 His humble ambition, proud humility, i8o 
 
 His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 
 
 His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world 
 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptions Christendoms, 
 
 That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he — 
 
 I know not what he shall. God send him well ! 
 
 The court 's a learning place, and he is one — 
 
 Par. What one, i' faith? 
 
 Hel. That I wnsh well. 'Tis pity — 
 
 Par. What 's pity ? 
 
 Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't, 190 
 
 Which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born, 
 Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes. 
 Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
 And show what we alone must think, which never 
 Returns us thanks. 
 
 Enter Page, 
 
 Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit. 
 Par. Little Helen, farewell ; if I can remember thee, 
 
 I will think of thee at court. 
 Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a 
 
 charitable star. 200 
 
 Par. Under Mars, L 
 Hel. I especially think, under Mars. 
 Par. Why under Mars? 
 HeL The wars have so kept you under, that you must 
 
 needs be bom under Mars. 
 Par. When he was predominant. 
 Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. 
 
 29
 
 Actl. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL 
 
 Par. Why think you so ? 
 
 Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. 
 
 Par. That 's for advantage. 210 
 
 Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the 
 safety : but the composition that your valour and 
 fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, 
 and I hke the wear well. 
 
 Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee 
 acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the 
 which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize 
 thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's coun- 
 sel, and understand what advice shall thrust 
 upon thee ; else thou diest in thine unthankful- 220 
 ness, and thine ignorance makes thee away : 
 farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy 
 prayers ; when thou hast none, remember thy 
 friends : get thee a good husband, and use him 
 as he uses thee : so, farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
 
 Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
 Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. 
 What power is it which mounts my love so high ; 230 
 That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye ? 
 The mightiest space in fortune nature brings 
 To join like likes and kiss like native things. 
 Impossible be strange attempts to those 
 That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose 
 What hath been cannot be : who ever strove 
 To show her merit, that did miss her love ? 
 The king's disease — my project may deceive me, 
 But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 30
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. ii. 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 Paris. The King's paiace. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France with let- 
 ters and divers Attendants. 
 
 King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears ; 
 Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 
 A braving war. 
 
 First Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. 
 
 King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive it 
 A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, 
 With caution, that the Florentine will move us 
 For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend 
 Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
 To have us make denial. 
 
 First Lord. His love and wisdom, lO 
 
 Approved so to your majesty, may plead 
 For amplest credence. 
 
 King. He hath arm'd our answer, 
 
 And Florence is denied before he comes : 
 Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see 
 The Tuscan service, freely have they leave 
 To stand on either part. 
 
 Sec. Lord. It well may serve 
 
 A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 
 For breathing and exploit. 
 
 King. What 's he comes here ? 
 
 Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. 
 
 Firsi Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord. 
 
 Young Bertram. 
 King, Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 20 
 
 31
 
 Act I. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, 
 
 Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts 
 
 Mayst thou inherit too ! \\^elcome to Paris. 
 
 Ber. Aly thanks and duty are your majesty's. 
 
 King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, 
 As when thy father and myself in friendship 
 First tried our soldiership ! He did look far 
 Into the service of the time, and was 
 Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long ; 
 But on us both did haggish age steal on, 30 
 
 And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 
 To talk of your good father. In his youth 
 He had the wit, which I can well observe 
 To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest 
 Till their own scorn return to them unnoted 
 Ere they can hide their levity in honour : 
 So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
 Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, 
 His equal had awaked them ; and his honour, 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 40 
 
 Exception bid him speak, and at this time 
 His tongue obey'd his hand : who were below him 
 He used as creatures of another place ; 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 Making them proud of his humility. 
 In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man 
 Might be a copy to these younger times ; 
 Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now 
 But goers backward. 
 Ber. His good remembrance, sir, 
 
 Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb ; 50 
 So in approof lives not his epitaph 
 
 32
 
 TrtAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. ii. 
 
 As in your royal speech. 
 
 King. Would I were with him ! He would always say — 
 Methinks I hear him now ; his plausive words 
 He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them, 
 To grow there and to bear, — ' Let me not live/ — 
 This his good melancholy oft began, 
 On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, 
 When it was out, — ' Let me not live,' quoth he, 
 * After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff 60 
 
 Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 
 All but new things disdain ; whose judgements are 
 Mere fathers of their garments ; whose constancies 
 Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd : 
 I after him do after him wish too. 
 Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, 
 I quickly were dissolved from my hive, 
 To give some labourers room. 
 
 Sec. Lord. You are loved, sir; 
 
 They that least lend it you shall lack you first. 
 
 King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long is 't, count, 70 
 Since the physician at your father's died ? 
 He was much famed. 
 
 Ber. Some six months since, my lord. 
 
 King. If he were living, I would try him yet. 
 
 Lend me an arm ; the rest have worn me out 
 With several applications : nature and sickness 
 Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ; 
 My son 's no dearer. 
 
 Ber. Thank your majesty. 
 
 [Exeunt. Flourish. 
 
 33
 
 Actl.Sc. iii. . ALL^S WELL 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 Ronsillon. The Count's palace. 
 Enter Countess, Stezvard, and Clozvn. 
 Count. I will now hear ; what say you of this gentle- 
 
 woman 
 
 Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your con- 
 tent, I wish might be found in the calendar of 
 my past endeavours ; for then we wound our 
 modesty and make foul the clearness of our de- 
 servings, when of ourselves we publish them. 
 
 Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, 
 sirrah : the complaints I have heard of you I do 
 not all believe : 'tis my slowness that I do not ; lo 
 for I know you lack not folly to commit them, 
 and have ability enough to make such knaveries 
 yours. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor 
 fellow. 
 
 Count. Well, sir. 
 
 Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, 
 though many of the rich are damned: but, if I 
 may have your ladyship's good will to go to the 
 world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we 20 
 may. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? 
 
 Clo. I do beg your good will in this case. 
 
 Count. In what case ? 
 
 Clo. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no 
 heritage: and I think I shall never have the 
 blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; 
 for they say barnes are blessings. 
 
 34
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc, iii. 
 
 Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. 
 
 Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it : I am driven 30 
 on by the flesh ; and he must needs go that the 
 devil drives. 
 
 Count. Is this all your worship's reason? 
 
 Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such 
 as they are. 
 
 Count. May the world know them ? 
 
 Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you 
 and all flesh and blood are ; and, indeed, I do 
 marry that I may repent. 
 
 Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. 40 
 
 Clo. I am out o' friends, madam ; and 1 hope to have 
 friends for my wife's' sake. 
 
 Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. 
 
 Clo. You 're shallow, madam, in great friends ; for 
 the knaves come to do that for me, which I am 
 aweary of. He that ears my land spares my 
 team, and gives me leave to in the crop ; if I be 
 his cuckold, he 's my drudge : he that comforts 
 my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ; 
 he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my 50 
 flesh and blood ; he that loves my flesh and blood 
 is my friend : ergo, he that kisses my wife is my 
 friend. If men could be contented to be what 
 they are, there were no fear in marriage; for 
 young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the 
 papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in 
 religion, their heads are both one ; they may joul 
 horns together, like any deer i' the herd. 
 
 Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calum- 
 nious knave? 60 
 
 35
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Clo. A prophet I, madam 
 next way : 
 
 and I speak the truth the 
 
 For I the ballad will repeat, 
 
 Which men full true shall find ; 
 
 Your marriage comes by destiny, 
 Your cuckoo sings by kind. 
 
 Count. Get you gone, sir ; I '11 talk with you more 
 
 anon. 
 Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen 
 
 come to you : of her I am to speak. 70 
 
 Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak 
 
 with her ; Helen I mean. 
 
 Clo, Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, 
 
 Why the Grecians sacked Troy ? 
 Fond done, done fond, 
 
 Was this King Priam's joy? 
 With that she sighed as she stood, 
 With that she sighed as she stood, 
 
 And gave this sentence then ; 
 Among nine bad if one be good, 
 Among nine bad if one be good. 
 
 There 's yet one good in ten. 
 
 Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the 
 
 song, sirrah. 
 Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a 
 purifying o' the song: would God would serve 
 the world so all the year! we'd find no fault 
 with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson : one 
 in ten, quoth a' ! an we might have a good 
 woman born but one every blazing star, or at an 
 
 2^ 
 
 80 
 
 90
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. iii. 
 
 earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a 
 man may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck one. 
 
 Count. You '11 be gone, sir knave, and do as I com- 
 mand you. 
 
 Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and 
 yet no hurt done ! Though honesty be no puri- 
 tan, yet it will do no hurt ; it will wear the sur- 
 plice of humility over the black gown of a big 
 heart. I am going, forsooth : the business is for 
 Helen to come hither. [Exit lOO 
 
 Count. Well, now. 
 
 Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman 
 entirely. 
 
 Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her to me ; 
 and she herself, without other advantage, may 
 lawfully make title to as much love as she finds : 
 there is more owing her than is paid ; and more 
 shall be paid her than she '11 demand. 
 
 Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than I 
 
 think she wished me: alone she was, and did no 
 communicate to herself her own words to her 
 own ears ; she thought, I dare vow for her, they 
 touched not any stranger sense. Her matter 
 was, she loved your son : Fortune, she said, was 
 no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt 
 their two estates ; Love no god, that would not 
 extend his might, only where qualities were 
 level ; . . . queen of virgins, that would suffer 
 her poor knight surprised, without rescue in the 
 first assault, or ransom afterward. This she 120 
 delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that 
 e'er I heard virgin exclaim in : which I held my 
 
 37
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 duty speedily to acquaint you withal ; sithence, 
 in the loss that may happen, it concerns you 
 something to know it. 
 Count. You have discharged this honestly ; keep it 
 to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of 
 this before, which hung so tottering in the bal- 
 ance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. 
 Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom; 130 
 and I thank you for your honest care : I will 
 speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Even so it was with me w^hen I was young : 
 
 If ever we are nature's, these are ours ; this thorn 
 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; 
 
 Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ; 
 It is the show and seal of nature's truth. 
 Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth ; 
 By our remembrances of days foregone. 
 Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. 
 Her eye is sick on 't : I observe her now. 141 
 
 Hel. What is your pleasure, madam? 
 
 Count. You knov/, Helen, 
 
 I am a mother to you. 
 
 Hel. Mine honourable mistress. 
 
 Count. Nay, a mother : 
 
 Why not a mother ? When I said ' a mother,' 
 Methought you saw a serpent : what 's in ' mother,' 
 That you start at it ? I say, I am your mother ; 
 And put you in the catalogue of those 
 That were enwombed mine : 'tis often seen 
 Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds 150 
 
 38
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. iii. 
 
 A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
 You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, 
 Yet I express to you a mother's care : 
 God's mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood 
 To say I am thy mother ? What 's the matter, 
 That this distemper'd messenger of wet, 
 The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ? 
 Why? that you are my daughter? 
 
 Hel. That I am not. 
 
 Count. I say, I am your mother. 
 
 Hel. Pardon, madam; 
 
 The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother : i6o 
 
 I am from humble, he from honour'd name; 
 
 No note upon my parents, his all noble ; 
 
 My master, my dear lord he is ; and I 
 
 His servant live and will his vassal die : 
 
 He must not be my brother. 
 
 Count. Nor I your mother? 
 
 Hel. You are my mother, madam; would you were, — 
 So that my lord your son were not my brother, — 
 Indeed my mother ! or were you both our mothers, 
 I care' no more for than I do for heaven, 
 So I were not his sister. Can't no other, 170 
 
 But I your daughter, he must be my brother ? 
 
 Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law : 
 God shield you mean it not ! daughter and mother 
 So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again ? 
 My fear hath catch'd your fondness : now I see 
 The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
 Your salt tears' head : now to all sense 'tis gross 
 You love my son ; invention is ashamed, 
 Against the proclamation of thy passion, 
 
 39
 
 Actl. Sc, iii, ALL'S WELL 
 
 To say thou dost not; therefore tell me true; i8o 
 But tell me then, 'tis so ; for, look, thy cheeks 
 Confess it, th' one to th' other ; and thine eyes 
 See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, 
 That in their kind they speak it : only sin 
 And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, 
 The truth should be suspected. Speak, is 't so ? 
 If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew ; 
 If it be not, forswear 't : howe'er, I charge thee. 
 As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 
 To tell me truly. 
 Hel. Good madam, pardon me! 190 
 
 Count. Do you love my son? 
 
 Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress ! 
 
 Count. Love you my son ? 
 
 Hel. Do not you love him, madam? 
 
 Count. Go not about ; my love hath in 't a bond, 
 
 Whereof the world takes note : come, come, disclose 
 The state of your affection ; for your passions 
 Have to the full appeach'd. 
 Hel. Then, I confess, 
 
 Here on my knee, before high heaven and you. 
 That before you, and next unto high heaven, 
 I love your son. 
 
 My friends were poor, but honest ; so 's my love : 200 
 Be not offended ; for it hurts not him 
 That he is loved of me : I follow him not 
 By any token of presumptuous suit ; 
 Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ; 
 Yet never know how that desert should be. 
 I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
 Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 
 40
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act L Sc. iii. 
 
 I still pour in the waters of my love, 
 
 And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, 
 
 Religious in mine error, I adore 210 
 
 The sun, that looks upon his worshipper. 
 
 But knows of him no more. My dearest madam. 
 
 Let not your hate encounter with my love 
 
 For loving where you do ; but if yourself. 
 
 Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, 
 
 Did ever in so true a flame of liking 
 
 Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian 
 
 Was both herself and love ; O, then, give pity 
 
 To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 
 
 But lend and give where she is sure to lose ; 220 
 
 That seeks not to find that her search implies. 
 
 But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies ! 
 
 Count. Had you not lately an intent, — speak truly, — 
 To go to Paris ? 
 
 Hel. Madam, I had. 
 
 Count. Wherefore ? tell true. 
 
 Hcl. I will tell truth ; by grace itself I swear. 
 
 You know my father left me some prescriptions 
 
 Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading 
 
 And manifest experience had collected 
 
 For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me 
 
 In heedfuU'st reservation to bestow them, 230 
 
 As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, 
 
 More than they were in note : amongst the rest. 
 
 There is a remedy, approved, set down. 
 
 To cure the desperate languishings whereof 
 
 The king is rendered lost. 
 
 Count. This was your motive 
 
 For Paris, was it? speak. 
 
 41
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL 
 
 Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this ; 
 Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 
 Had from the conversation of my thoughts 
 Haply been absent then. 
 
 Count. But think you, Helen, 240 
 
 If you should tender your supposed aid. 
 He would receive it ? he and his physicians 
 Are of a mind ; he, that they cannot help him. 
 They, that they cannot help : how shall they credit 
 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
 Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off 
 The danger to itself ? 
 
 Hel. There 's something in 't. 
 
 More than my father's skill, which was the great'st 
 Of his profession, that his good receipt 
 Shall for my legacy be sanctified 250 
 
 By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would your 
 
 honour 
 But give me leave to try success, I 'Id venture 
 The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure 
 By such a day and hour. 
 
 Count. Dost thou believe 't? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. 
 
 Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, 
 Means and attendants, and my loving greetings 
 To those of mine in court : I '11 stay at home 
 And pray God's blessings into thy attempt : 
 Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 260 
 
 What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 42
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act H. Sc. i. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene L 
 
 Paris. The King's palace. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the King, attended with di- 
 vers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine 
 war; Bertram, and Parolles. 
 
 King. Farewell, young lords ; these warlike principles 
 Do not throw from you : and you, my lords, fare- 
 well : 
 Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all 
 The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received. 
 And is enough for both. 
 First Lord. 'Tis our hope, sir, 
 
 After well-enter'd soldiers, to return 
 And find your Grace in health. 
 King. No, no,'it cannot be ; and yet my heart 
 Will not confess he owes the malady 
 That doth my Hfe besiege. Farewell, young lords ; lo 
 Whether I Hve or die, be you the sons 
 Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy,— 
 Those bated that inherit but the fall 
 Of the last monarchy,— see that you come 
 Not to woo honour, but to wed it ; when 
 The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek. 
 That fame may cry you loud : I say, farewell. 
 Sec. Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! 
 King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them : 
 
 They say, our French lack language to deny, 20 
 
 If they demand : beware of being captives. 
 Before you serve. 
 ^Qfli^ Our hearts receive your warnings. 
 
 43
 
 Actll.Sc, 1. ALL 'SWELL 
 
 King. Farewell. Come hither to me. {Exit. 
 
 First Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us ! 
 
 Par. 'Tis not his fault, the spark. 
 
 Sec. Lord. O, 'tis brave wars ! 
 
 Par. Most admirable : I have seen those wars. 
 
 Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with 
 
 ' Too young,' and ' the next year,' and' 'tis too early.' 
 
 Par. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. 
 
 Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 30 
 
 Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, 
 Till honour be bought up, and no sw^ord worn 
 But one to dance wuth ! By heaven, I '11 steal away. 
 
 First Lord. There 's honour in the theft. 
 
 Par. Commit it, count. 
 
 Sec. Lord. I am your accessary ; and so, farewell. 
 
 Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. 
 
 First Lord. Farewell, captain. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Sweet Monsieur ParoUes ! 
 
 Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. 40 
 Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals : 
 you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one 
 Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of 
 war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this 
 very sword entrenched it : say to him, I live ; 
 and observe his reports for me. 
 
 First Lord. We shall, noble captain. [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! what will 
 ye do? 
 
 Ber. Stay : the king. 50 
 
 Re-enter King. 
 
 Par. [Aside to Ber.] Use a more spacious ceremony 
 to the noble lords ; 3^ou have restrained your- 
 
 44
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. i. 
 
 self within the Hst of too cold an adieu : be 
 more expressive to them : for they wear them- 
 selves in the cap of the time, there do muster 
 true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influ- 
 ence of the most received star ; and though the 
 devil lead the measure, such are to be followed : 
 after them, and take a more dilated farewell. 
 Ber. And I will do so. 60 
 
 Par. Worthy fellows ; and like to prove most sinewy 
 
 sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram and Parolles. 
 
 Enter Lafeu. 
 
 Laf. {Kneeling'] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my 
 tidings. 
 
 King. I '11 fee thee to stand up. 
 
 Laf. Then here 's a man stands, that has brought his 
 pardon. 
 I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy ; 
 And that at my bidding you could so stand up. 
 
 King. I would I had ; so I had broke thy pate, 
 And ask'd thee mercy for 't. 
 
 Laf. Good faith, across : but, my good lord, 'tis thus ; 70 
 Will you be cured of your infirmity ? 
 
 King. No. 
 
 Laf. O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox ? 
 Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if 
 My royal fox could reach them : I have seen a medi- 
 cine 
 That 's able to breathe life into a stone, 
 Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary 
 With spritely fire and motion ; whose simple touch 
 Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, 
 To give great Charlemain a pen in 's hand, 80 
 
 45
 
 Act II. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL 
 
 And write to her a love-line. 
 
 King, What ' her ' is this ? 
 
 Laf. Why, Doctor She : my lord, there 's one arrived, 
 If you vi^ill see her : now, by my faith and honour, 
 If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
 In this my light deliverance, I have spoke 
 With one that, in her sex, her years, profession. 
 Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more 
 Than I dare blame my weakness : will you see her, 
 For that is her demand, and know her business ? 
 That done, laugh well at me. 
 
 King. Now, good Lafeu, 90 
 
 Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee 
 May spend our wonder too, or take off thine 
 By wondering how thou took'st it. 
 
 Laf. Nay, I '11 fit you. 
 
 And not be all day neither. [Exit. 
 
 King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. 
 
 Re-enter Lafeu, with Helena. 
 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways. 
 
 King. This haste hath wings indeed. 
 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways ; 
 
 This is his majesty, say your mind to him : 
 
 A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors 
 
 His majesty seldom fears : I am Cressid's uncle, 100 
 
 That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Gerard de Narbon was my father; 
 In what he did profess, well found. 
 
 King, I knew him. 
 
 46
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. i. 
 
 Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ; 
 Knowing him is enough. On 's bed of death 
 Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one, 
 Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
 And of his old experience the only darling, no 
 
 He bade me store up, as a triple eye, 
 Safer than mine own two, more dear ; I have so : 
 And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd 
 AVith that malignant cause, wherein the honour 
 Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, 
 I come to tender it and my appliance. 
 With all bound humbleness. 
 
 King. We thank you, maiden ; 
 
 But may not be so credulous of cure, 
 When our most learned doctors leave us, and 
 The congregated college have concluded 120 
 
 That labouring art can never ransom nature 
 From her inaidible estate ; I say w^e must not 
 So stain our judgement, or corrupt our hope, 
 To prostitute our past-cure malady 
 To empirics, or to dissever so 
 Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
 A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. 
 
 Hel. My duty, then, shall pay me for my pains : 
 I will no more enforce mine office on you ; 
 Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 130 
 A modest one, to bear me back agam. 
 
 King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful : 
 
 Thou thought's! to help me ; and such thanks I give 
 As one near death to those that wish him live : 
 But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part ; 
 I knowing all my peril, thou no art, 
 
 47
 
 Act II. Sc. i. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 HcL What I can do can do no hurt to try, 
 
 Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. 
 
 He that of greatest works is finisher, 
 
 Oft does them by the weakest minister : 140 
 
 So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown, 
 
 When judges have been babes ; great floods have 
 
 flown 
 From simple sources ; and great seas have dried, 
 When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
 Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
 W^here most it promises ; and oft it hits 
 Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits. 
 
 King. I must not hear thee ; fare thee well, kind maid ; 
 Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid : 
 Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. 150 
 
 Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd : 
 
 It is not so with Him that all things knows, 
 
 As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows ; 
 
 But most it is presumption in us w^hen 
 
 The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
 
 Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ; 
 
 Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
 
 I am not an impostor, that proclaim 
 
 Myself against the level of mine aim ; 
 
 But know I think, and think I know most sure, 160 
 
 My art is not past power, nor you past cure. 
 
 King. Art thou so confident ? within what space 
 Hopest thou my cure? 
 
 Hel. The great'st grace lending grace, 
 
 Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
 Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ; 
 Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
 Moist Hesperus hath quench' d his sleepy lamp ; 
 
 48
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. i. 
 
 Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
 Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass ; 
 What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 170 
 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
 
 King. Upon thy certainty and confidence 
 What darest thou venture ? 
 
 Hel. Tax of impudence, 
 
 A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame 
 Traduced by odious ballads : my maiden's name 
 Sear'd otherwise, ne worse of worst extended, 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
 
 King. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak 
 His powerful sound within an organ weak : 
 And what impossibility would slay 180 
 
 In common sense, sense saves another way. 
 Thy life is dear ; for all, that life can rate 
 Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate, 
 Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all 
 That happiness and prime can happy call : 
 Thou this to hazard needs must intimate 
 Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. 
 Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try. 
 That ministers thine own death if I die. 
 
 Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property 190 
 
 Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die. 
 And well deserved : not helping, death 's my fee ; 
 But, if I help, what do you promise me ? 
 
 King. Make thy demand. 
 
 Hel. But will you make it even ? 
 
 King. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. 
 
 Hel. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand 
 What husband in thy power I will command : 
 
 49
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Exempted be from me the arrogance 
 
 To choose from forth the royal blood of France, 
 
 My low and humble name to propagate 200 
 
 With any branch or image of thy state ; 
 
 But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 
 
 Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 
 
 King. Here is my hand ; the premises observed, 
 Thy will by my performance shall be served : 
 So make the choice of thy own time : for I, 
 Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. 
 More should I question thee, and more I must, 
 Though more to know could not be more to trust. 
 From whence thou camest, how tended on : but rest 
 Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest. 211 
 Give me some help here, ho ! If thou proceed 
 As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Rousillon. The Count's palace. 
 Enter Countess and Clown. 
 
 Count. Come on, sir ; I shall now put you to the 
 height of your breeding. 
 
 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 con- 
 tempt ? But to the court ! 
 
 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 10 
 
 so
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. ii. 
 
 hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, 
 Hp, 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. 
 
 Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions ? 20 
 
 Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attor- 
 ney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, 
 as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, 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 pud- 
 ding to his skin. 
 
 Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for 
 
 all questions? 3^ 
 
 Clo. From below your duke to beneath your con- 
 stable, 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 40 
 by your answer, I pray you, sir, are you a 
 courtier ?
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 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 loves 
 you. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir ! Thick, thick, spare not me. 
 
 Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely 
 meat. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir ! Nay, put me to 't, I warrant you. 50 
 
 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 ' O 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 
 serve ever. 60 
 
 Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, 
 To entertain 't so merrily with a fool. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir ! why, there 't serves well again, 
 
 Count. An end, sir; to your business. Give 
 Helen this, 
 And urge 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 under- 
 stand me? 70 
 
 Clo. Most fruitfully : I am there before my legs. 
 
 Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 52
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act H. Sc. iii. 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 Paris. 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 fa- 
 miliar, 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. 
 
 Ber. And so 'tis. 
 
 Laf. To be relinquished of the artists, — lo 
 
 Par, So I say ; both of Galen and Paracelsus. 
 
 Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, — 
 
 Par. Right ; so I say. 
 
 Laf. That gave him out incurable, — 
 
 Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too. 
 
 Laf. Not to be helped, — 
 
 Par. Right ; as 'twere, a man assured of a — 
 
 Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death. 
 
 Par. Just, you say well ; so would I have said. 
 
 Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. 20 
 
 Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, 
 you shall read it in — what do ye call there ? 
 
 Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly 
 actor. 
 
 Par. That 's it ; I would have said the very same. 
 
 Laf, Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, I 
 speak in respect — 
 
 Par, Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the 
 
 53
 
 Act II. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 brief and the tedious of it; and he 's of a most 
 facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to 30 
 be the — 
 
 Laf. A'ery hand of heaven. 
 
 Par. Ay, so I say. 
 
 Laf. In a most weak — 
 
 Par. And debile minister, great power, great tran- 
 scendence : which should, indeed, give us a 
 further use to be made than alone the recovery 
 of the king, as to be — 
 
 Laf. Generally thankful. 
 
 Pdr. I would have said it : you say v\-eli- Here 40 
 comes the king. 
 
 Enter King, Helena, and Attendants. 
 
 Laf. Lustig. as the Dutchman says : I '11 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 ? 
 
 Laf. Tore God, I think so. 
 
 King. Go, call before me all the lords in court. 
 Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side ; 
 And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense. 
 Thou hast repeal' d, a second time receive 50 
 
 The confirmation of my promised gift, 
 Which but attends thy naming. 
 
 Enter three or four Lords. 
 
 Fair maid, send forth thine eye : this youthful parcel 
 Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing. 
 O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice 
 I have to use : thy frank election make ; 
 
 54
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. iii. 
 
 Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. 
 Hcl. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress 
 
 Fall, when Love please ! marry, to each, but one ! 
 Laf. I Id give bay Curtal and his furniture, 60 
 
 My mouth no more were broken than these boys', 
 
 And writ as little beard. 
 King. Peruse them well : 
 
 Xot one of those but had a noble father. 
 Hcl. Gentlemen, 
 
 Heaven hath through me restored the king to health. 
 All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. 
 Hcl. I am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest, 
 
 That I protest I simply am a maid. 
 
 Please it your majesty, I have done already: 
 
 The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 70 
 
 * We blush that thou shouldst choose ; but, be re- 
 fused, 
 
 Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever ; 
 
 We '11 ne'er come there again.' 
 King. ^lake choice; and, see, 
 
 \\"ho shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. 
 Hcl. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly ; 
 
 And to imperial love, that God most high. 
 
 Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? 
 First Lord. And grant it. 
 
 Hcl. Thanks, sir ; all the rest is mute. 
 
 Laf. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames- 
 
 ace for my life. 80 
 
 Hcl. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, 
 
 Before I speak, too threateningly replies ; 
 
 Love make your fortunes twenty times above 
 
 Her that so wishes and her humble love ! 
 Sec, Lord. Xo better, if you please. 
 
 55
 
 Act II. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Hel. My wish receive, 
 
 Which great Love grant ! and so, I take my leave. 
 Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of 
 
 mine, I 'Id have them whipped ; or I would send 
 
 them to the Turk to make eunuchs of. 
 Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take ; 90 
 
 I '11 never do you wrong for your own sake : 
 
 Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed 
 
 Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed ! 
 Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they '11 none have 
 
 her : sure, they are bastards to the English ; the 
 
 French ne'er got 'em. 
 Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, 
 
 To make yourself a son out of my blood. 
 Fourth Lord. Fair one, I think not so. 
 Laf. There 's one grape yet ; I am sure thy father 100 
 
 drunk wine : but if thou be'st not an ass, I am 
 
 a youth of fourteen ; I have known thee already. 
 Hel. [To Bertram] I dare not say I take you ; 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. 
 Ber. My wife, my liege ! I shall beseech your highness. 
 
 In such a business give me leave to use 109 
 
 The help of mine own eyes. 
 Kincr. 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 raised me from my sickly 
 
 bed. 
 Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down 
 
 56
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. iii. 
 
 Tvlust answer for your raising ? 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 which 
 
 I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, 120 
 
 Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, 
 
 Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
 
 In differences so mighty. If she be 
 
 All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, 
 
 A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest 
 
 Of virtue for the name : but do not so : 
 
 From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 
 The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 
 
 Where great additions swell 's, and virtue none. 
 
 It is a dropsied honour. Good alone 130 
 
 Is good without a name. Vileness is so : 
 
 The property by what it is should go, 
 
 Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ; 
 
 In these to nature she 's immediate heir. 
 
 And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn, 
 
 Which challenges itself as honour 's born. 
 
 And is not like the sire : honours thrive, 
 
 When rather from our acts we them derive 
 
 Than our foregoers : the mere word 's a slave 
 
 Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave 140 
 
 A lying trophy ; and as oft is dumb 
 
 Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb 
 
 Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said ? 
 
 If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
 
 I can create the rest : virtue and she 
 
 Is her own dower ; honour and wealth from me. 
 
 57
 
 Act II. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. 
 
 King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to 
 choose. 
 
 Hcl. That you are well restored, my lord, I 'm glad : 
 
 Let the rest go. 150 
 
 King. My honour 's at the stake ; which to defeat, 
 I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, 
 Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ; 
 That dost in vile misprision shackle up 
 My love and her desert ; that canst not dream, 
 We, poising us in her defective scale. 
 Shall weigh thee to the beam ; that wilt not know, 
 It is in us to plant thine honour where 
 We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt : 
 Obey our will, which travails in thy good: 160 
 
 Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 Do thine own fortunes that obedient right 
 Which both thy duty owes and our power claims ; 
 Or I will throw thee from my care for ever 
 Into the staggers and the careless lapse 
 Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate 
 Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice. 
 Without all terms of pity. Speak ; thine answer. 
 
 Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
 
 My fancy to your eyes : when I consider 170 
 
 What great creation and w^hat dole of honour 
 Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late 
 Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
 The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled, 
 Is as 't were born so. 
 
 King. Take her by the hand. 
 
 And tell her she is thine : to whom I promise 
 
 58
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act H. Sc. iii. 
 
 A counterpoise ; if not to thy estate, 
 A balance more replete. 
 
 Ber. I take her hand. 
 
 King. Good fortune and the favour of the king 
 
 Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony i8o 
 
 Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, 
 And be perform'd to-night : the solemn feast 
 Shall more attend upon the coming space. 
 Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, 
 Thy love 's to me religious ; else, does err. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Lafeii and ParoUes. 
 
 Laf. Do you hear, monsieur ? a word with you. 
 
 Par. Your pleasure, sir ? 
 
 Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his 
 recantation. 
 
 Par. Recantation ! My lord ! my master ! 190 
 
 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 man. 
 
 Laf. To what is count's man : count's master is of 
 another style. 
 
 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 200 
 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 
 
 59
 
 Act II. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too 
 great a burthen. 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 'rt 210 
 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 Vv^indow of lattice, 
 fare thee well : thy casement I need not open, for 
 I look through thee. Give me thy hand. 
 
 Par. ]\Iy lord, you give me most egregious indignity. 
 
 Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy 220 
 of it. 
 
 Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. 
 
 Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will 
 not bate thee a scruple. 
 
 Par. Well, I shall be wiser. 
 
 Laf. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull 
 at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st 
 bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find 
 what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have 
 a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or 230 
 rather my knowledge, that I may say in the de- 
 fault, he is a man I know. 
 
 Par. j\Iy lord, you do me most insupportable vexa- 
 tion. 
 
 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 
 leave. [Exit. 
 
 Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace 
 
 60
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act H. Sc. iii. 
 
 off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, 
 I must be patient; there is no fettering of au- 240 
 thority. I '11 beat him, by my life, if I can meet 
 him with any convenience, an he were double 
 and double a lord. I '11 have no more pity of 
 his age than I would have of — I '11 beat him, an 
 if I could but meet him again. 
 
 Re-enter Lafeu. 
 
 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 250 
 
 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 'Id beat thee : methinks, thou 
 art a general offence, and every man should beat 260 
 thee: I think thou wast created for men to 
 breathe themselves upon thee. 
 
 Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. 
 
 Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for pick- 
 ing 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 commission of your birth and virtue gives 
 
 61
 
 Act IL Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 you h^eraldry. You are not worth another word, 
 else I 'Id call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. 270 
 Par. Good, very good ; it is so then : good, very 
 good ; let it be concealed awhile. 
 
 Re-enter Bertram. 
 
 Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever ! 
 
 Par. What 's the matter, sweet-heart ? 
 
 Ber, Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, 
 I will not bed her. 
 
 Par. What, what, sweet-heart? 
 
 Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me ! 
 
 I '11 to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 
 
 Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits 280 
 The tread of a man's foot : to the wars ! 
 
 Ber. There 's letters from my mother : what the im- 
 port is, I know not yet. 
 
 Par. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, 
 to the wars ! 
 He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
 That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home. 
 Spending his manly marrow in her arms, 
 Which should sustain the bound and high curvet 
 Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions : 
 France is a stable ; we that dwell in 't jades ; 290 
 Therefore, to the war ! 
 
 Ber. It shall be so : I '11 send her to my house. 
 Acquaint my mother with my hate to her. 
 And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
 That which I durst not speak ; his present gift 
 Shall furnish me to those Italian fields. 
 Where noble fellows strike : war is no strife 
 
 62
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. iv. 
 
 To the dark house and the detested wife. 
 
 Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure ? 
 
 Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 300 
 I '11 send her straight away : to-morrow 
 I '11 to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 
 
 Par, Why, these balls bound ; there 's noise in it. 'Tis 
 hard : 
 A young man married is a man that 's marr'd : 
 Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: 
 The king hath done you wrong ; but, hush, 'tis so. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV, 
 
 Paris. The King's palace. 
 Enter Helena and Clozvn. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Clo. Truly, she 's very well indeed, but for two things. 
 
 HeL What two things ? 
 
 Clo. One, that she 's not in heaven, whither God send 10 
 her quickly ! the other, that she 's in earth, from 
 whence God send her quickly ! 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady ! 
 HeL I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine 
 own good fortunes. 
 
 63
 
 Act II. Sc. iv. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 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. 20 
 
 Par. 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 'rt a knave ; that 's, before me thou 'rt a 
 knave : this had been truth, sir. 30 
 
 Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool ; I have found thee. 
 
 Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you 
 taught to find me ? The search, sir, was profit- 
 able ; 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 ; 
 A very serious business calls on him. 
 The great prerogative and rite of love, 40 
 
 Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowl- 
 edge ; 
 But puts it ofif to a compell'd restraint ; 
 Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets 
 Which they distil now in the curbed time. 
 To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy. 
 And pleasure drown the brim. 
 
 HeL What 's his will else ? 
 
 64
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IL Sc. v. 
 
 Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the king, 
 And make this haste as your own good proceeding, 
 Strengthen'd with what apology you think 
 May make it probable need. 
 
 Hel. What more commands he? 50 
 
 Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently 
 Attend his further pleasure. 
 
 Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. 
 
 Par. I shall report it so. 
 
 Hel. I pray you. [Exit Parolles.] Come, sirrah. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Paris. The King's palace. 
 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. You have it from his own deliverance. 
 
 Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 
 
 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 10 
 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 Bertram. 
 
 65
 
 Actll. Sc. V. ALL'S WELL 
 
 Laf. Pray you, sir, who 's his tailor ? 
 
 Par. Sir? 
 
 Laf. O, I know him well, I, sir ; he, sir, 's a good 
 workman, a very good tailor. 
 
 Ber. Is she gone to the king ? [Aside to Parolles. 20 
 
 Par. She is. 
 
 Ber. Will she away to-night ? 
 
 Par. As you '11 have her. 
 
 Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, 
 Given order for our horses ; and to-night, 
 When I should take possession of the bride, 
 End 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 30 
 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 cus- 
 tard ; and out of it you '11 run again, rather than 
 suffer question for your residence. 40 
 
 Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. 
 Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's 
 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. 
 
 66
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act H. Sc. v. 
 
 Farewell, monsieur : I have spoken better of you 
 
 than you have or will to deserve at my hand ; 
 
 but we must do good against evil, [Exit. 50 
 
 Par. An idle lord, I swear. 
 Ber. I think so. 
 
 Par, Why, do you not know him? 
 Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech 
 
 Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, 
 
 Spoke with the king, and have procured his leave 
 For present parting ; only he desires 
 Some private speech with you. 
 
 Ber. I shall obey his will. 
 
 You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 60 
 
 Which holds not colour with the time, nor does 
 The ministration and required office 
 On my particular. Prepared I was not 
 For such a business ; therefore am I found 
 So much unsettled : this drives me to entreat you, 
 That presently you take your way for home. 
 And rather muse than ask why I entreat you ; 
 For my respects are better than they seem, 
 And my appointments have in them a need 
 Greater than shows itself at the first view 70 
 
 To you that know them not. This to my mother 
 
 [Giving a letter. 
 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so, 
 I leave you to your wisdom. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, 
 
 But that I am your most obedient servant. 
 (^7
 
 Act 11. Sc. V. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Ber. Come, come, no more of that. 
 
 Hel. And ever shall 
 
 With true observance seek to eke out that 
 
 Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 
 
 To equal my great fortune. 
 Ber. Let that go : 
 
 My haste is very great : farewell ; hie home. 
 Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. 
 
 Ber. Well, what would you say? 80 
 
 Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ; 
 
 Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is ; 
 
 But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal 
 
 What law does vouch mine own. 
 Ber. What would you have? 
 
 Hel. Something ; and scarce so much : nothing indeed. 
 
 I would not tell you what I would, my lord: faith 
 yes; 
 
 Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. 
 Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 
 Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. 90 
 Ber, Where are my other men, monsieur ? Farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Helena. 
 
 Go thou toward home ; where I will never come, 
 
 Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum. 
 
 Away, and for our flight. 
 Par. Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt. 
 
 J 
 
 68 
 
 i
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IH. Sc. i. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 Scene L 
 
 Florence. The Duke's palace. 
 
 Flourish. Entp- the Duke of Florence, attended; the two 
 Frenchmen zvith a troop of soldiers. 
 
 Duke. So that from point to point now have you heard 
 The fundamental reasons of this war, 
 Whose great decision hath much blood let forth 
 And more thirsts after. 
 
 First Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 
 
 Upon your Grace's part ; black and fearful 
 On the opposer. 
 
 Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France 
 Would in so just a business shut his bosom 
 Against our borrowing prayers. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Good my lord, 
 
 The reasons of our state I cannot yield, lo 
 
 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 incertain grounds to fail 
 
 As often as I guess'd. 
 
 Duke. Be it his pleasure. 
 
 First Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature, 
 That surfeit on their ease, will day by day 
 Come here for physic. 
 
 Duke. Welcome shall they be ; 
 
 And all the honours that can fly from us 20 
 
 Shall on them settle. You know your places well ; 
 69
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 When better fall, for your avails they fell : 
 To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt, 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 Rousillon. The Count's palace. 
 Enter Countess and Clozvn. 
 
 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. lO 
 
 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 stomach. 
 
 Count. What have we here? 
 
 Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. 20 
 
 Count, [reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: 
 she hath recovered the king, and undone me. 
 I 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. 
 
 70
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. ii. 
 
 If there be breadth enough in the world, I will 
 hold a long distance. My duty to you. 
 
 Your unfortunate son, 
 Bertram. 
 This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 30 
 
 To fly the favours of so good a king ; 
 To pluck his indignation on thy head 
 By the misprising of a maid too virtuous 
 For the contempt of empire. 
 
 Re-enter Clozvn. 
 
 do. 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. 40 
 
 Count. Why should he be killed? 
 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. 
 
 Enter Helena and tzvo Gentlemen. 
 
 First Gent. Save you, good madam. 
 
 Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 
 
 Sec. Gent. Do not say so. 
 
 Count. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, 50 
 I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, 
 That the first face of neither, on the start. 
 Can woman me unto 't : where is my son, I pray you ? 
 
 71
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Sec. Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence : 
 We met him thitherward ; from thence we came, 
 And, after some dispatch in hand at court, 
 Thither we bend again. 
 
 Hel. Look on his letter, madam ; here 's my passport. 
 [reads'] When thou canst get the ring upon my 
 finger which never shall come off, and show me 60 
 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? 
 
 First Gent. Ay, madam ; 
 
 And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. 
 
 Count. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer ; 
 If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine. 
 Thou robb'st me of a moiety : he was my son ; 
 But I do wash his name out of my blood, 70 
 
 And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he ? 
 
 Sec. Gent. Ay, madam. 
 
 Count. And to be a soldier? 
 
 Sec. Gent. Such is his noble purpose ; and, believe 't, 
 The Duke will lay upon him all the honour 
 That good convenience claims. 
 
 Count. Return you thither ? 
 
 First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. 
 
 Hel. {reads'] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in 
 France. 
 Tis bitter. 
 
 Count. Find you that there ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam. 
 
 First Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply 
 
 which his heart was not consenting to. 80 
 
 72
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. ii. 
 
 Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife ! 
 
 There 's nothing here that is too good for him 
 
 But only she ; and she deserves a lord 
 
 That twenty such rude boys might tend upon 
 
 And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him ? 
 First Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman 
 
 Which I have sometime known. 
 Count. Parolles, was it not ? 
 
 First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he. 
 Count, A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. 
 
 My son corrupts a well-derived nature 90 
 
 With his inducement. 
 First Gent. Indeed, good lady, 
 
 The fellow has a deal of that too much, 
 
 Which holds him much to have. 
 Count. Y' are welcome, gentlemen. 
 
 I will entreat you, when you see my son, 
 
 To tell him that his sword can never win 
 
 The honour that he loses : more I- '11 entreat you 
 
 Written to bear along. 
 Sec. Gent. We serve you, madam, 
 
 In that and all your worthiest affairs. 
 Count. Not so, but asnve change our courtesies. 100 
 
 Will you draw near ? 
 
 [Exeu7it Countess and Gentlemen. 
 Hel. ' Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' 
 
 Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! 
 
 Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France ; 
 
 Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is 't I 
 
 That chase thee from thy country and expose 
 
 Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
 
 Of the none-sparing war ? and is it I 
 
 73
 
 Act III. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 
 
 Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark no 
 
 Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, 
 
 That ride upon the violent speed of fire, 
 
 Fly with false aim ; move the still-peering air, 
 
 That sings with piercing ; do not touch my lord. 
 
 Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
 
 Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
 
 I am the caitiff that do hold him to 't ; 
 
 And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
 
 His death was so effected : better 'twere 
 
 I met the ravin lion when he roar'd 120 
 
 With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere 
 
 That all the miseries which nature owes 
 
 Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, 
 
 Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 
 
 As oft it loses all : I will be gone ; 
 
 My being here it is that holds thee hence : 
 
 Shall I stay here to do 't ? no, no, although 
 
 The air of paradise did fan the house. 
 
 And angels officed all : I will be gone. 
 
 That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 130 
 
 To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day ! 
 
 For with the dark, poor thief, I/ll steal away. [Exit, 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 Florence. Before the Duke's palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, 
 Parolles, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets. 
 
 Duke. The general of our horse thou art ; and we, 
 Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence 
 
 74
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. iv. 
 
 Upon thy promising fortune. 
 Ber. Sir, it is 
 
 A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet 
 
 We '11 strive to bear it for your worthy sake 
 
 To the extreme edge of hazard. 
 Duke. Then go thou forth ; 
 
 And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, 
 
 As thy auspicious mistress ! 
 Ber. This very day, 
 
 Great Mars, I put myself into thy file : 
 
 Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove lO 
 
 A lover of thy drum, hater of love. {Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Rousillon. The Coimfs palace. 
 
 Enter Countess and Steward. 
 
 Count. 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? Read it again. 
 Stew, [reads] I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone : 
 
 Ambitious love hath so in me offended. 
 That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon. 
 
 With sainted vow my faults to have amended. 
 Write, write, that from the bloody course of war 
 
 My dearest master, your dear son, may hie : 
 Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far lo 
 
 His name with zealous fervour sanctify : 
 His taken labours bid him me forgive ; 
 
 I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth 
 From courtly friends with camping foes to live. 
 
 Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth : 
 
 7S
 
 Act III. Sc. iv. ALL *S WELL 
 
 He is too good and fair for death and me ; 
 Whom I myself embrace to set him free. 
 
 Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words ! 
 Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, 
 As letting her pass so : had I spoke with her, 20 
 
 I could have well diverted her intents, 
 Which thus she hath prevented. 
 
 Stew. Pardon me, madam*. 
 
 If I had given you this at over-night, 
 She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she writes, 
 Pursuit would be but vain. 
 
 Count. What angel shall 
 
 Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, 
 
 Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear 
 
 And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
 
 Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, 
 
 To this unworthy husband of his wife ; 30 
 
 Let every word weigh heavy of her worth 
 
 That he does weigh too light : my greatest grief, 
 
 Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. 
 
 Dispatch the most convenient messenger: 
 
 When haply he shall hear that she is gone, 
 
 He will return ; and hope I may that she. 
 
 Hearing so much, will speed her foot again. 
 
 Led hither by pure love : which of them both 
 
 Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense 
 
 To make distinction : provide this messenger : 40 
 
 My heart is heavy and mine age is weak ; 
 
 Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 76
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. v. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Florence. Without the zualls. A tucket afar off. 
 
 Enter an old zvidozv of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and 
 Mariana, with other Citizens. 
 
 Wid. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, 
 we shall lose all the sight. 
 
 Dia. They say the French count has done most hon- 
 ourable service. 
 
 Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest 
 commander ; and that with his own hand he slew 
 the Duke's brother. [Tucket.'] We have lost 
 our labour ; they are gone a contrary way : 
 hark ! you may know by their trumpets. 
 
 Mar. Come, let 's return again, and suffice ourselves lo 
 with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of 
 this French earl : the honour of a maid is her 
 name ; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. 
 
 Wid. I have told my neighbour how you have been 
 solicited by a gentleman his companion. 
 
 Mar. I know that knave ; hang him ! one Parolles : 
 a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the 
 young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their 
 promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all 
 these engines of lust, are not the things they go 20 
 under: many a maid hath been seduced by 
 them ; and the misery is, example, that so terrible 
 shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for 
 all that dissuade succession, but that they are 
 limed with the twigs that threaten them. I 
 hope I need not to advise you further; but I 
 hope your own grace will keep you where you 
 
 77
 
 Act III. Sc. V. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 are, though there were no further danger known 
 
 but the modesty which is so lost. 
 Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 30 
 
 Wid. I hope so. 
 
 Enter Helena, disguised like a pilgrim. 
 
 Look, here comes a pilgrim : I know she will lie 
 
 at my house ; thither they send one another : I '11 
 
 question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither 
 
 are you bound ? 
 HeL To Saint Jaques le Grand. 
 
 Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you ? 
 Wid. At the Saint Francis here beside the port. 
 Hel. Is this the way? 
 
 Wid. Ay, marry, is 't. [A march afar.] Hark you! 
 they come this way. 40 
 
 If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, 
 
 But till the troops come by, 
 
 I will conduct you where you shall be lodged ; 
 
 The rather, for I think I know your hostess 
 
 As ample as myself. 
 Hel. Is it yourself? 
 
 Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 
 Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. 
 Wid. You came, I think, from France ? 
 HeL I did so. 
 
 Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours 
 
 That has done worthy service. 
 Hel. His name, I pray you ? 
 
 Dia. The Count Rousillon : know you such a one? 51 
 Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him : 
 
 His face I know not. 
 
 78
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. v. 
 
 Dia. Whatsome'er he is, 
 
 He 's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 
 
 As 'tis reported, for the king had married him 
 
 Against his liking: think you it is so? 
 Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth : I know his lady. 
 Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count 
 
 Reports but coarsely of her. 
 Hel. What 's his name ? 
 
 Dia. Monsieur Parolles. 
 Hel. O, I believe with him, 60 
 
 In argument of praise, or to the worth 
 
 Of the great count himself, she is too mean 
 
 To have her name repeated : all her deserving 
 
 Is a reserved honesty, and that 
 
 I have not heard examined. 
 Dia. Alas, poor lady ! 
 
 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife 
 
 Of a detesting lord. 
 Wid. I write good creature, wheresoe'er she is. 
 
 Her heart weighs sadly : this young maid might do 
 her 
 
 A shrewd turn, if she pleased. 
 Hel. How do you mean ? 70 
 
 May be the amorous count solicits her 
 
 In the unlawful purpose. 
 Wid. He does indeed ; 
 
 And brokes with all that can in such a suit 
 
 Corrupt the tender honour of a maid : 
 
 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard 
 
 In honestest defence. 
 Mar. The gods forbid else ! 
 
 Wid. So, now they come : 
 
 79
 
 Act III. Sc. V. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Drum and Colours. 
 
 Enter Bertram, Parolles, and the whole army. 
 
 That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son ; 
 That, Escalus. 
 
 Hel. Which is the Frenchman ? 
 
 Dia. He ; 
 
 That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow. 80 
 I would he loved his wife : if he were honester 
 He were much goodlier : is 't not a handsome gen- 
 tleman ? 
 
 HeL I like him well. 
 
 Dia, 'Tis pity he is not honest : yond 's that same knave 
 That leads him to these places : were I his lady, 
 I would poison that vile rascal. 
 
 Hel Which is he? 
 
 Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs : why is he melan- 
 choly ? 
 
 Hel. Perchance he 's hurt i' the battle. 
 
 Par. Lose our drum ! well. 90 
 
 Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he 
 has spied us. 
 
 Wid. Marry, hang you ! 
 
 Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! 
 
 [Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, and army. 
 
 Wid, The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring 
 you 
 Where you shall host : of enjoin'd penitents 
 There 's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, 
 Already at my house. 
 
 Hel. I humbly thank you : 
 
 Please it this matron and this gentle maid 
 80
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. vi. 
 
 To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking lOO 
 Shall be for me ; and, to requite you further, 
 I will bestow some precepts of this virgin 
 Worthy the note. 
 Both. We '11 take your offer kindly. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VL 
 
 Camp before Florence. 
 Enter Bertram and the two French Lords. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to 't ; let him 
 
 have his way. 
 First Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding, 
 
 hold me no more in your respect. 
 Sec. Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 
 Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him ? 
 Sec. Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct 
 
 knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of 
 
 him as my kinsman, he 's a most notable coward, 
 
 an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise- lo 
 
 breaker, the owner of no one good quality 
 
 worthy your lordship's entertainment. 
 First Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, reposing 
 
 too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might 
 
 at some great and trusty business in a main 
 
 danger fail you. 
 Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try 
 
 him. 
 First Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his 
 
 drum, which you hear him so confidently under- 20 
 
 take to do. 
 
 81
 
 Act III. Sc. vi. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Sec. Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will sud- 
 denly surprise him ; such I will have, whom I 
 am sure he knows not from the enemy : we will 
 bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose 
 no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of 
 the adversaries, when we bring him to our own 
 tents. Be but your lordship present at his ex- 
 amination: if he do not, for the promise of 
 his life and in the highest compulsion of base 30 
 fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intel- 
 ligence in his power against you, and that with 
 the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never 
 trust my judgement in any thing. 
 
 First Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch 
 his drum ; he says he has a stratagem for 't : 
 when your lordship sees the bottom of his suc- 
 cess in 't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump 
 of ore will be melted, if you give him not John 
 Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be 40 
 removed. Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Sec. Lord. [Aside to Ber.] O, for the love of laugh- 
 ter, hinder not the honour of his design : let him 
 fetch off his drum in any hand. 
 
 Ber. How now, monsieur ! this drum sticks sorely in 
 your disposition. 
 
 First Lord. A pox on 't, let it go ; 'tis but a drum. 
 
 Par. ' But a drum ' ! is 't ' but a drum ' ? A drum 
 so lost! There was excellent command, — to 
 charge in with our horse upon our own wings, 50 
 and to rend our own soldiers ! 
 
 First Lord. That was not to be blamed in the com- 
 
 82
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IH. Sc. vi. 
 
 mand of the service: it was a disaster of war 
 that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if 
 he had been there to command. 
 
 Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: 
 some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum ; 
 but it is not to be recovered. 
 
 Par. It might have been recovered. 
 
 Ber. It might ; but it is not now. 60 
 
 Par. It is to be recovered : but that the merit of ser- 
 vice is seldom attributed to the true and exact 
 performer, I would have that drum or another, 
 or ' hie jacet.' 
 
 Ber. Why, if you have a stomach, to 't, monsieur : if . 
 you think your mystery in stratagem can bring 
 this instrument of honour again into his native 
 quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and 
 go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy 
 exploit: if you speed well in it, the Duke shall 70 
 both speak of it, and extend to you what further 
 becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable 
 of your worthiness. 
 
 Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. 
 
 Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. 
 
 Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will presently 
 pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in 
 my certainty, put myself into my mortal prep- 
 aration ; and bj midnight look to hear further 
 from me. 80 
 
 Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are 
 gone about it ? 
 
 Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord; 
 but the attempt I vow. 
 
 83
 
 Act III. Sc. vi. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Ber. I know thou 'rt valiant ; and, to the possibiHty 
 of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Fare- 
 well. 
 
 Par. I love not many words. {Exit. 
 
 Sec. Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not 
 this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently 
 seems to undertake this business, which he 90 
 knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, 
 and dares better be damned than to do 't ? 
 
 First Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we 
 do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into 
 a man's favour and for a week escape a great 
 deal of discoveries ; but when you find him out, 
 you have him ever after. 
 
 Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all 
 of this that so seriously he does address himself 
 unto ? 100 
 
 Sec. Lord. None in the world ; but return with an 
 invention, and clap upon you two or three prob- 
 able lies : but we have almost embossed him ; 
 you shall see his fall to-night ; for indeed he is 
 not for your lordship's respect. 
 
 First Lord. We '11 make you some sport with the fox 
 ere we case him. He was first smoked by the 
 old lord Lafeu : when his disguise and he is 
 parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him ; 
 which you shall see this very night. no 
 
 Sec. Lord. I must go look my twigs ; he shall be caught. 
 
 Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me. 
 
 Sec. Lord. As 't please your lordship : I '11 leave you. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you 
 The lass I spoke of. 
 
 S4
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IIL Sc. vii. 
 
 First Lord. But you say she 's honest. 
 
 Ber. That 's all the fault : I spoke with her but once 
 And found her wondrous cold ; but I sent to her, 
 By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, 
 Tokens and letters which she did re-send ; 
 And this is all I have done. She 's a fair creature. 120 
 Will you go see her ? 
 
 First Lord. With all my heart, my lord. 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 
 Scene VIL 
 
 Florence. The Widow's house. 
 Enter Helena and Widow. 
 
 Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
 
 I know not how I shall assure you further, 
 But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. 
 
 Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, 
 Nothing acquainted with these businesses ; 
 And would not put my reputation now 
 In any staining act. 
 
 Hel. Nor would I wish you. 
 
 First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, 
 
 And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken 
 
 Is so from word to word ; and then you cannot, 10 
 
 By the good aid that I of you shall borrow. 
 
 Err in bestowing it. 
 
 Wid. I should believe you ; 
 
 For you have show'd me that which well approves 
 You 're great in fortune. 
 
 Hel. Take this purse of gold, 
 
 And let me buy your friendly help thus far, 
 
 85
 
 Act III. Sc. vii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Which I will over-pay and pay again 
 
 When I have found it. The count he wooes your 
 
 daughter, 
 Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, 
 Resolved to carry her : let her in fine consent, 
 As we '11 direct her how 'tis best to bear it. 20 
 
 Now his important blood will nought deny 
 That she '11 demand : a ring the county wears, 
 That downward hath succeeded in his house 
 From son to son, some four or five descents 
 Since the first father wore it : this ring he holds 
 In most rich choice ; yet in his idle fire, 
 To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
 Howe'er repented after. 
 
 Wid. Now I see 
 
 The bottom of your purpose. 
 
 HeL You see it lawful, then : it is no more, 30 
 
 But that your daughter, ere she seems as won. 
 Desires this ring ; appoints him an encounter ; 
 In fine, delivers me to fill the time. 
 Herself most chastely absent : after this, 
 To marry her, I '11 add three thousand crowns 
 To what is past already. 
 
 Wid. I have yielded : 
 
 Instruct my daughter how she shall persever. 
 That time and place with this deceit so lawful 
 May prove coherent. Every night he comes 
 With musics of all sorts and songs composed 40 
 To her unworthiness : it nothing steads us 
 To chide him from our eaves ; for he persists 
 As if his life lay on 't. 
 
 Hel. Why then to-night
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Let us assay our plot ; which, if it speed, 
 
 Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, 
 
 And lawful meaning in a lawful act, 
 
 Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact : 
 
 But let 's about it. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 Scene L 
 
 Without the Florentine camp. 
 
 Enter Second French Lord, zcith five or six other 
 Soldiers in amhush. 
 
 Sec. 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 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he 
 
 not thy voice ? lO 
 
 First Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 
 
 Sec. Lord. But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to 
 speak to us again? 
 
 First Sold. E'en such as you speak to me. 
 
 Sec. Lord. He must think us some band of strangers 
 i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath 
 a smack of all neighbouring languages ; there- 
 fore we must every one be a man of his own 
 fancy, not to know what we speak one to
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 another ; so we seem to know, is to know straight 20 
 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. 
 
 Par. 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 inven- 
 tion that carries it : they begin to smoke me ; 30 
 and disgraces have of late knocked too 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. 
 
 Sec. Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own 
 tongue was guilty of. 
 
 Par, 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 40 
 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 butter-woman's mouth, and 
 buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you 
 prattle me into these perils. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, 
 
 and be that he is ? 50
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve 
 the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. 
 
 Sec. Lord. We cannot afford you so. 
 
 Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was 
 in stratagem. 
 
 Sec. Lord. 'Twould not do. 
 
 Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Hardly serve. 
 
 Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window of 
 
 the citadel — 60 
 
 Sec. Lord. How deep ? 
 
 Par. Thirty fathom. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that 
 be believed. 
 
 Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's would 
 swear I recovered it. 
 
 Sec. Lord. You shall hear one anon. 
 
 Par. A drum now of the enemy's, — [Alarum within. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. 
 
 All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par carbo, cargo. 70 
 
 Par. O, ransom, ransom ! do not hide mine eyes. 
 
 [They seize and blindfold him. 
 
 First Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos. 
 
 Par. 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 '11 
 Discover that which shall undo the Florentine. 
 
 First Sold. Boskos vauvado : I understand thee, and 
 can speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto, sir, betake 
 thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at 80 
 thy bosom. 
 
 89
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Par. O! 
 
 First Sold. O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania 
 
 dulche. 
 Sec. Lord. Oscorbidulchos volivorco. 
 First Sold. 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. 
 Par. O, let me live ! 
 
 And all the secrets of our camp I '11 show, 90 
 
 Their force, their purposes ; nay, I '11 speak that 
 
 Which you will wonder at. 
 First Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ? 
 
 Par. If I do not, damn me. 
 First Sold. Acordo linta. 
 
 Come on ; thou art granted space. 
 
 [Exit, zuitJi Parolles guarded. A short 
 
 alarum within. 
 Sec. 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. 
 Sec. Sold. Captain, I will. 
 
 Sec. Lord. A' will betray us all unto ourselves : 
 
 Inform on that. 100 
 
 Sec. Sold. So I will, sir. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Till then I '11 keep him dark and safely lock'd. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 go
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. ii. 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 Florence. The Widozv's house. 
 Enter Bertram and Diana. 
 
 Ber. They told me that your name was Fontibell. 
 
 Dia. No, my good lord, Diana. 
 
 Ber. 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. lo 
 
 Dia. She then was honest. 
 
 Ber. So should you be. 
 
 Dia. No : 
 
 My mother did but duty ; such, my lord, 
 As you owe to your wife. 
 
 Ber. No more o' that; 
 
 I prithee, do not strive against my vows : 
 I was compell'd to her ; but I love thee 
 By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever 
 Do thee all rights of service. 
 
 Dia. 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. 
 
 Ber. How have I sworn ! 20 
 
 Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth. 
 But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. 
 
 91
 
 Act IV. Sc. ii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 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 loved 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, 30 
 
 At least in my opinion. 
 
 Ber. 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 recover : say thou art mine, and ever 
 
 My love as it begins shall so persever. 
 Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre 
 
 That we '11 forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. 
 Ber. I '11 lend it thee, my dear ; but have no power 40 
 
 To give it from me. 
 Dia. Will you not, my lord ? 
 
 Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house, 
 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
 
 In me to lose. 
 Dia. 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' the world 
 
 In me to lose : thus your own proper wisdom 
 
 Brings in the champion Honour on my part, 50 
 
 92
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. ii. 
 
 Against your vain assault. 
 
 Ber. Here, take my ring: 
 
 My house, mine honour, yea, my hfe, be thine, 
 And I '11 be bid by thee. 
 
 Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window: 
 I '11 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 delivered : 60 
 
 And on your finger in the night I '11 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. 
 
 Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Dia. 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 70 
 
 Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry me 
 When his wife 's dead ; therefore I '11 He 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. 
 
 9$
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Scene IH. 
 
 The Florentine Camp. 
 
 Enter the two French Lords and some two or three 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 First Lord. You have not given him his mother's 
 letter? 
 
 Sec. Lord. I have deHvered it an hour since : there is 
 something in 't that stings his nature ; for on the 
 reading it he changed almost into another man. 
 
 First Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him 
 for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlast- 
 ing displeasure of the king, who had even tuned 
 his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell lo 
 you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly 
 with you. 
 
 First Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and 
 I am the grave of it. 
 
 Sec. 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 com- 
 position. 20 
 
 First Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion; as we 
 are ourselves, what things are we ! 
 
 Sec. 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 ab- 
 horred ends, so he that in this action contrives 
 against his own nobility, in his proper stream 
 o'erflows himself. 
 
 94
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii. 
 
 First Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be 
 
 trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall 30 
 not then have his company to-night ? 
 
 Sec. Lord. Not till after midnight ; for he is dieted 
 to his hour. 
 
 First Lord. That approaches apace: I would gladly 
 have him see his company anatomized, that he 
 might take a measure of his own judgements, 
 wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 
 
 Sec. Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come ; 
 for his presence must be the whip of the other. 
 
 First Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these 40 
 wars ? 
 
 Sec. Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace. 
 
 First Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 
 
 Sec. Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then ? will 
 he travel higher, or return again into France ? 
 
 First Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not 
 altogether of his council. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Let it be forbid, sir ; so should I be a 
 great deal of his act. 
 
 First Lord. Sir, his wife some two months since fled 50 
 from his house : her pretence is a pilgrimage to 
 Saint Jaques le Grand ; which holy undertaking 
 with most austere sanctimony she accomplished ; 
 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. 
 
 Sec. Lord. How is this justified? 
 
 First Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters, 
 
 which makes her story true, even to the point of 60 
 
 95
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 her death: her death itself, which could not be 
 her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed 
 by the rector of the place. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ? 
 
 First Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, 
 point from point, to the full arming of the verity. 
 
 Sec. Lord. I am heartily sorry that he '11 be glad of 
 this. 
 
 First Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us 
 
 comforts of our losses! 70 
 
 Sec. Lord. And how mightily some other times we 
 drown our gain in tears! The great dignity 
 that his valour hath here acquired for him shall 
 at home be encountered with a shame as ample. 
 
 First Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, 
 good and ill together: our virtues would be 
 proud, if our faults whipped them not ; and our 
 crimes would despair, if they were not cherished 
 by our virtues. 
 
 Enter a Messenger, 
 
 How now ! where 's your master ! 80 
 
 Serv, 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. 
 Sec, 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 nndnight ? 
 96
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii. 
 
 Ber. I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a 90 
 month's length a-piece, by an abstract of suc- 
 cess: I have congied with the Duke, done my 
 adieu with his nearest ; buried a wife, mourned 
 for her; writ to my lady mother I am return- 
 ing ; entertained 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. 
 
 Sec. Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and 
 
 this morning your departure hence, it requires 100 
 haste of your lordship. 
 
 Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to 
 hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dia- 
 logue between the fool and the soldier? Come, 
 bring forth this counterfeit module has deceived 
 me, like a double-meaning prophesier. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Bring him forth : hath sat i' the stocks all 
 night, poor gallant knave. 
 
 Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserved it, in usurp- 
 ing his spurs so long. How does he carry him- no 
 self? 
 
 Sec. Lord. I have told your lordship already, the 
 stocks carry him. But to answer you as you 
 would be understood ; he weeps like a wench 
 that had shed her milk: he hath confessed him- 
 self to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, 
 from the time of his remembrance to this very 
 instant disaster of his setting i' the stocks : and 
 what think you he hath confessed ? 
 
 Ber. Nothing of me, has a' ? 120 
 
 Sec. Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be 
 
 97
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 read to his face : if your lordship be in 't, as I 
 beHeve you are, you must have the patience to 
 hear it. 
 
 Enter ParoUes guarded, and First Soldier. 
 
 Ber. A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say noth- 
 ing of me : hush, hush ! 
 
 First Lord. Hoodman comes ! Portotartarossa. 
 
 First Sold. He calls for the tortures : what will you 
 say without 'em ? 
 
 Par. I will confess what I know without constraint: 130 
 if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. 
 
 First Sold. Bosko chimurcho. 
 
 First Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 
 
 First Sold. You are a merciful general. Our general 
 bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a 
 note. 
 
 Par. And truly, as I hope to live. 
 
 First Sold. [Reads] First demand of him how many 
 horse the Duke is strong. What say you to 
 that? 140 
 
 Par. Five or six thousand ; but very weak and un- 
 serviceable : the troops are all scattered, and the 
 commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputa- 
 tion and credit, and as I hope to live. 
 
 First Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? 
 
 Par. Do : I '11 take the sacrament on 't, how and 
 which way you will. 
 
 Ber. All 's one to him. What a past-saving slave is 
 this! 
 
 First Lord. You 're deceived, my lord : this is 1 50 
 Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, — ^that
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii. 
 
 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. 
 Sec. Lord. I will never trust a man again for keeping 
 his sword clean, nor believe he can have every 
 thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly. 
 First Sold. Well, that 's set down. 
 Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — I will say 
 
 true, — or thereabouts, set down, for I '11 speak i6o 
 truth. 
 First Lord. He 's very near the truth in this. 
 Ber. But I con him no thanks for 't, in the nature he 
 
 delivers it. 
 Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 
 First Sold. Well, that 's set down. 
 Par. I humbly thank you, sir : a truth 's a truth, the 
 
 rogues are marvellous poor. 
 First Sold, [reads^ Demand of him, of what strength 
 
 they are a-foot. What say you to that? 170 
 
 Par. 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 ; Coram- 
 bus, so many ; Jaques, so many ; Guiltian, Cos- 
 mo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty 
 each; mine ow^n company, Chitopher, Vau- 
 mond, Bentii, two hundred and 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 180 
 their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. 
 Ber. What shall be done to him? 
 First Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. De- 
 
 99
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 mand of him my condition, and what credit I 
 have with the Duke. 
 
 First Sold. Well, that 's set down. [Reads] You 
 shall demand of him, whether one Captain Du- 
 main be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his 
 reputation is with the Duke ; what his valour, 
 honesty, and expertness in wars ; or whether he 
 thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing 190 
 sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt. What 
 say you to this ? what do you know of it ? 
 
 Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular 
 of the inter'gatories : demand them singly. 
 
 First Sold. Do you know this Captain Dumain ? 
 
 Par. I know him : a' was a botcher's 'prentice in 
 Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting 
 the shrieve's fool with child, — a dumb innocent, 
 that could not say him nay. 200 
 
 Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ; though I 
 know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that 
 falls. 
 
 First Sold. Well, is this captain in the Duke of 
 Florence's camp? 
 
 Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. 
 
 First Lord. Nay, look not so upon me ; we shall hear 
 of your lordship anon. 
 
 First Sold. What is his reputation with the Duke ? 
 
 Par. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor 210 
 officer of mine ; and writ to me this other day to 
 turn him out o' the band: I think I have his 
 letter in my pocket. 
 
 First Sold. Marry, we '11 search. 
 
 Par. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is 
 
 100
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii. 
 
 there, or it is upon a file with the Duke's other 
 letters in my tent. 
 
 First Sold. Here 'tis ; here 's a paper : shall I read it 
 to you? 
 
 Par. I do not know if it be it or no. 220 
 
 Ber. Our interpreter does it well. 
 
 First Lord. Excellently. 
 
 First Sold, [reads] Dian, the count 's a fool, and full of 
 gold,— 
 
 Par. 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 Sold. Nay, I 'U read it first, by your favour. 230 
 
 Par. 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. 
 Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue ! 
 
 First Sold, [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 ; 240 
 
 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 vowed to thee in thine ear, 
 
 Parolles. 
 
 lOI
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Ber. He shall be whipped through the army with this 
 rhyme in 's forehead. 
 
 Sec. Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the mani- 
 fold linguist and the armipotent soldier. 250 
 
 Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and 
 now he 's a cat to me. 
 
 First Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we 
 shall be fain to hang you. 
 
 Par. 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' the stocks, or any 
 where, so I may live. 
 
 First Sold. We '11 see what may be done, so you 260 
 confess freely ; therefore, once more to this 
 Captain Dumain : you have answered to his 
 reputation with the Duke and to his valour: 
 what is his honesty? 
 
 Par. 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 270 
 he will be swine-drunk ; and in his sleep he does 
 little harm, save to his bed-clothes 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 every thing that an honest man 
 should not have; what an honest man should 
 have, he has nothing. 
 
 First Lord. I begin to love him for this. 
 
 102
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii. 
 
 Ber. For this description of thine honesty? A pox 
 
 upon him for me, he 's more and more a cat. 280 
 
 First Sold. What say you to his expertness in war. 
 
 Par. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the EngHsh 
 tragedians ; to beUe him, I will not, and more 
 of his soldiership 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. 
 
 First Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far, that 
 
 the rarity redeems him. 290 
 
 Ber. A pox on him, he 's a cat still. 
 
 First Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I 
 need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to 
 revolt. 
 
 Par. Sir, for a quart of d'ecu he will sell the fee- 
 simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it ; and 
 cut the entail from all remainders, and a per- 
 petual succession for it perpetually. 
 
 First Sold. What's his brother, the other Captain 
 Dumain ? 
 
 Sec. Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 300 
 
 First Sold. What's he? 
 
 Par. E'en a crow o' the 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 Sold. If your Hfe be saved, will you tmdertake 
 to betray the Florentine ? 
 
 Par. Ay,and the captain of his horse. Count Rousillon. 310 
 
 103
 
 Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 First Sold. I '11 whisper with the general, and know 
 his pleasure. 
 
 Par, [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 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must 
 
 die: the general says, you that have so traitor- 320 
 ously discovered 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, 
 off with his head. 
 
 Par. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death ! 
 
 First Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all 
 
 your friends. [Unhlinding him. 
 
 So, look about you : know you any here ? 
 
 Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 
 
 Sec. Lord. God bless you. Captain Parolles. 330 
 
 First Lord. God save you, noble captain. 
 
 Sec. Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my 
 Lord Lafeu? I am for France. 
 
 First 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 'Id compel it of you : but fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Bertram and Lords. 
 
 First Sold. You are undone, captain, all but your 
 scarf ; that has a knot on 't yet. 
 
 Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot? 340 
 
 First Sold, If you could find out a country where but 
 
 104
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iv. 
 
 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. 
 
 Par. Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 
 
 'Twould burst at this. Captain I '11 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 351 
 
 That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
 
 Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live 
 
 Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! 
 
 There 's place and means for every man alive. 
 
 I '11 after them. [E^'it- 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Florence. The Widow's house. 
 
 Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana. 
 
 Hel. 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 bosom 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, 10 
 I am supposed dead : the army breaking. 
 My husband hies him home ; where, heaven aiding, 
 
 105
 
 Act IV. Sc. iv. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 And by the leave of my good lord the king, 
 We '11 be before our welcome. 
 
 Wid, Gentle madam, 
 
 You never had a servant to whose trust 
 Your business was more welcome. 
 
 Hel. 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 20 
 
 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 lust 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. 
 
 Dia. Let death and honesty 
 
 Go with your impositions, I am yours 
 Upon your will to suffer. 
 
 Hel. Yet, I pray you: 30 
 
 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 prepared, 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 
 
 106
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. v. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Rousillon. The Count's palace. 
 
 Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. 
 
 Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt- 
 taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron 
 would have made all the unbaked 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 advanced by the king than 
 by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. 
 
 Count. 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 lo 
 partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest 
 groans of a mother, I could not have owed her 
 a more rooted love. 
 
 Laf, 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady ; we may 
 pick a thousand salads ere we light on such 
 another herb. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the 
 salad, or rather, the herb of grace. 
 
 Laf. They are not herbs, you knave ; they are nose- 
 herbs. 20 
 
 Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir ; I have not 
 much skill in grass. 
 
 Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or 
 a fool? 
 
 Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at 
 a man's. 
 
 Laf. Your distinction? 
 
 107
 
 Act IV. Sc. V. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife and do his 
 service. 
 
 Laf. So you were a brave knave at his service, in- 30 
 deed. 
 
 Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to 
 do her service. 
 
 Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave 
 and fool. 
 
 Clo. At your service. 
 
 Laf. No, no, no. 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as 
 great a prince as you are. " 
 
 Laf. Who 's that ? a Frenchman ? 40 
 
 Clo. Faith, sir, a' has an English name ; but his fis- 
 nomy is more hotter in France than there. 
 
 Laf. What prince is that ? 
 
 Clo. The black prince, sir ; alias, the prince of dark- 
 ness ; alias, the devil. 
 
 Laf. Hold thee, there 's my purse : I give thee not 
 this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest 
 of ; serve him still. 
 
 Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved 
 
 a great fire; and the master I speak of ever 50 
 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 '11 be for the 
 flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the 
 great fire. 
 
 Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee ; and 
 
 108
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. v. 
 
 I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out 60 
 with thee. Go thy ways ; let my horses be well 
 looked to, without any tricks. 
 
 Clo, If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be 
 jades' tricks ; which are their own right by the 
 law of nature. [Exit. 
 
 Laf. A shrewd knave and an unhappy. 
 
 Count. So he is. My lord that 's gone made himself 
 much sport out of him : by his authority he re- 
 mains here, which he thinks is a patent for his 
 sauciness ; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs 
 where he will. 70 
 
 Laf. 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 promised me to do it : and, to 
 stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against 
 your son, there is no fitter matter. How does 80 
 your ladyship like it ? 
 
 Count. With very much content, my lord; and I 
 wish it happily effected. 
 
 Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as 
 able body as when he numbered thirty : he will 
 be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him 
 that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. 
 
 Count. 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 re- 90 
 main with me till they meet together. 
 
 109
 
 Act V. Sc. i. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I 
 
 might safely be admitted. 
 Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege. 
 Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but I 
 
 thank my God it holds yet. 
 
 Re-enter Clozvn. 
 
 Clo. 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 loo 
 cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek 
 is worn bare. 
 
 Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good 
 livery of honour ; so belike is that. 
 
 Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. 
 
 Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you : I long to 
 talk with the young noble soldier. 
 
 Clo. 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. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene L 
 
 Marseilles. A street. 
 
 Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, zvith tzvo Attendants. 
 
 Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night 
 
 Must wear your spirits low ; we cannot help it : 
 But since you have made the days and nights as one, 
 To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, 
 
 no
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc, i. 
 
 Be bold you do so grow in my requital 
 
 As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ; 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 This man may help me to his majesty's ear, 
 
 If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. 
 Gent. And you. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. lo 
 
 Gent. I have been sometimes there. 
 Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 
 
 From the report that goes upon your goodness ; 
 
 And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, 
 
 Which lay nice manners by, I put you to 
 
 The use of your own virtues, for the which 
 
 I shall continue thankful. 
 Gent. What 's your will ? 
 
 Hel. That it will please you 
 
 To give this poor petition to the king. 
 
 And aid me with that store of power you have 20 
 
 To come into his presence. 
 Gent. The king 's not here. 
 Hel. Not here, sir ! 
 
 Gent. Not, indeed: 
 
 He hence removed last night and with more haste 
 
 Than is his use. 
 Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains ! 
 
 Hel. All 's well that ends well yet. 
 
 Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. 
 
 I do beseech you, whither is he gone? 
 Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ; 
 
 Whither I am going. 
 Hel. I do beseech you, sir, 
 
 III
 
 Act V. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Since you are like to see the king before me, 30 
 
 Commend the paper to his gracious hand, 
 
 Which I presume shall render you no blame 
 
 But rather make you thank your pains for it. 
 
 I will come after you with what good speed 
 
 Our means will make us means. 
 
 Gent. This I '11 do for you. 
 
 Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, 
 Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again. 
 Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene H. 
 
 Rousillon. Before the Count's palace. 
 Enter Clozvn, and Parolles, follozving. 
 
 Par. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu 
 this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better 
 known to you, when I have held familiarity 
 with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, 
 muddied in fortune's mood, and smell some- 
 what strong of her strong displeasure. 
 
 Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it 
 smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will 
 henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. 
 Prithee, allow the wind. 10 
 
 Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I 
 spake but by a metaphor. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop 
 my nose; or against any man's metaphor. 
 Prithee, get thee further. 
 
 Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 
 
 Clo. Foh ! prithee, stand away : a paper from
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. ii. 
 
 fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! 
 Look, here he comes himself. 
 
 Enter Lafeu. 
 
 Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's 20 
 cat, — but not a musk-cat, — that has fallen into 
 the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as 
 he says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use 
 the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, 
 decayed, ingenious, fooHsh, rascally knave. I 
 do pity his distress in my similes of comfort and 
 leave him to your lordship. [Exit. 
 
 Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly 
 scratched. 
 
 Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis 30 
 too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have 
 you played the knave with fortune, that she 
 should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady 
 and would not have knaves thrive long under 
 her? There's a quart d'ecu for you: let the 
 justices make you and fortune friends ; I am for 
 other business. 
 
 Far. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. 
 
 Eaf. You beg a single penny more : come, you shall 
 ha 't ; save your word. 
 
 Par. My name, my good lord, is ParoUes. 40 
 
 Laf. You beg more than ' word,' then. Cox my 
 passion! give me your hand. How does your 
 drum? 
 
 Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found 
 me! 
 
 Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost 
 thee. 
 
 113
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some 
 grace, for you did bring me out. 
 
 Laf. Out upon thee, knave ! dost thou put upon me 50 
 at once both the office of God and the devil? 
 One brings thee in grace and the other brings 
 thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's com- 
 ing ; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire 
 further after me ; I had talk of you last night ; 
 though you are a fool and a knave, you shall 
 eat ; go to, follow. 
 
 Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IH. 
 
 Rousillon. The Count's palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, the two 
 French Lords, zvith Attendants. 
 
 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'erbears it and bums on. 
 King. My honour'd lady, 
 
 I have forgiven and forgotten all ; 
 
 Though my revenges were high bent upon him, lo 
 
 And watch'd the time to shoot. 
 Laf. This I must say, 
 
 But first I beg my pardon, the young lord 
 
 114
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady 
 
 Offence 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. Well, call him hither ; 
 
 We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill 21 
 
 All repetition : let him not ask our pardon ; 
 
 The nature of his great offence is dead, 
 
 And deeper than oblivion we do bury 
 
 The incensing relics of it :' let him approach, 
 
 A stranger, no offender ; and inform him 
 
 So 'tis our will he should. 
 
 Gent. I shall, my liege. [Exit. 
 
 King. What says he to your daughter ? have you spoke ? 
 
 Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness. 
 
 King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent 
 me 
 That set him high in fame. 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 Laf. He looks well on 't. 31 
 
 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; 
 
 IIS
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 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 40 
 
 The 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 favour ; 
 Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen; 50 
 
 Extended or contracted all proportions 
 To a most hideous object : thence it came 
 That she whom all men praised and whom myself, 
 Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye 
 The dust that did offend it. 
 
 King. Well excused: 
 
 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, 61 
 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 Alaudlin : 
 
 116
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 The main consents are had ; and here we '11 stay 
 
 To see our widower's second marriage-day. 70 
 
 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 favour from you 
 
 To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, 
 
 That she may quickly come. [Bertram gives a ring.] 
 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. ♦ 80 
 
 King. Now, pray you, let me see it ; for mine eye. 
 
 While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to 't. 
 
 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 
 
 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 have seen her wear it ; and she reckon'd it 90 
 
 At her life's rate. 
 Laf. I am sure I saw her wear it. 
 
 Ber. You are deceived, 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 
 117
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 I stood engaged : but when I had subscribed 
 
 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 ceased 
 
 In heavy satisfaction and would never loo 
 
 Receive the ring again. 
 
 King. Plutus himself, 
 
 That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, 
 Hath not in nature's mystery m.ore 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 gottt 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, i lo 
 
 Where you have never come, or sent it us 
 Upon her great disaster. 
 
 Ber. She never saw it. 
 
 King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; 
 And makest 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. 120 
 
 [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 '11 sift this matter further. 
 118
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 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 have been to blame or no, I know not : 
 Here 's a petition from a Florentine, 130 
 
 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 knpw 
 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, 140 
 he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a 
 widower : his vows are forfeited to me, and my 
 honour 's paid to him. He stole from Florence, 
 taking no leave, and I follow 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 Capilet. 
 
 Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for 
 this : I '11 none of him. 
 
 King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, 150 
 To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors : 
 Go speedily and bring again the count, 
 iig
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 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. 
 
 Enter Widow and Diana. 
 
 What woman 's that ? 
 
 Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, 
 Derived from the ancient Capilet : 
 My suit, as I do understand, you know, i6o 
 
 And therefore know how far I may be pitied. 
 
 Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour 
 Both suffer under this complaint we bring, 
 And both shall cease, without your remedy. 
 
 King. Come hither, count ; 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 ; 170 
 
 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, 
 Either both or none. 
 
 Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daugh- 
 ter; you are no husband for her. 
 
 120
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 Ber, My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, 
 
 Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your 
 highness 
 
 Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour i8o 
 
 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 honour 
 
 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 : 190 
 
 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 hit : 
 
 Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, 
 
 Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue. 
 
 Hath it been owed 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. 200 
 
 Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce 
 
 So bad an instrument : his name 's ParoUes. 
 Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. 
 King. Find him, and bring him hither. 
 
 . [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 121
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL *S WELL 
 
 Ber. What of him ? 
 
 He 's quoted for a most perfidious slave, 
 With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd ; 
 Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. 
 Am I or that or this for what he '11 utter, 
 That will speak any thing ? 
 
 King. She hath that ring of yours. 
 
 Ber. I think she has : certain it is I liked her, 210 
 
 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 of more fancy ; and, in fine, 
 Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace. 
 Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring ; 
 And I had that which any inferior might 
 At market-price have bought. 
 
 Dia. I must be patient : 
 
 You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, 220 
 
 May justly diet it. I pray you yet, 
 
 Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband, 
 
 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. 
 
 King. Know you this ring ? this ring was his of late. 
 
 Dia. And this was it I gave him, being abed. 
 
 King. The story then goes false, you threw it him 
 Out of a casement. 
 
 Dia. I have spoke the truth. 230 
 
 122
 
 JHAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. 
 
 King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you. 
 Is this the man you speak of? 
 
 Dia. Ay, my lord. 
 
 King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you, 
 Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 
 Which on your just proceeding I '11 keep off. 
 By him and by this woman here what know you ? 
 
 Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been 
 an honourable gentleman : tricks he hath had in 
 him, which gentlemen have. 240 
 
 King. Come, come, to the purpose : did he love this 
 woman ? 
 
 Par. Faith, sir, he did love her ; but how ? 
 
 King. How, I pray 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. 
 
 King. As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an 
 
 equivocal companion is this ! 250 
 
 Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. 
 
 Laf. He 's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. 
 
 Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage? 
 
 Par. Faith, I know more than I '11 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 : for indeed he was mad for her, and talked 
 
 of Satan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I 
 
 123
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 know not what : yet I was In that credit with 260 
 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. 
 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. ' 270 
 
 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 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. 280 
 
 Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, 
 Thou diest within this hour. 
 
 Dia. I '11 never tell you. 
 
 King. Take her away. 
 
 Dia. I '11 put in bail, my liege. 
 
 King. I think thee now some common customer. 
 
 Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. 
 
 124
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii. 
 
 King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while ? 
 
 Dia. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty : 
 
 He knows I am no maid, and he '11 swear to 't ; 
 
 I '11 swear I am a maid, and he knows not. 
 
 Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 290 
 
 I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. 
 
 King. She does abuse our ears : to prison with her. 
 
 Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir : 
 
 [Exit Widow. 
 The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for. 
 And he shall surety me. But for this lord. 
 Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, 
 Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him : 
 He knows himself my bed he hath defiled ; 
 And" at that time he got his wife with child : 
 Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick : 300 
 So there 's my riddle, — 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. 
 
 Bcr. Both, both. 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 310 
 And are by me with child,' &c. This is done : 
 
 125
 
 Act V. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Will you be mine, now you are doubly won ? 
 Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, 
 
 I '11 love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. 
 Hel. If it appear not plain and prove untrue, 
 
 Deadly divorce step between me and you ! 
 
 my dear mother, do I see you living ? 
 Laf. Mine eyes smell onions ; I shall weep anon : 
 
 [To Parolles] Good Tom Drum, lend me a hand- 
 kercher: so, 
 
 1 thank thee : wait on me home, I '11 make sport with 
 
 thee : 320 
 
 Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. 
 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 '11 pay thy dower ; 
 For I can guess that by thy honest aid 
 Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. 
 Of that and all the progress, more and less. 
 Resolvedly more leisure shall express : 
 All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet, 330 
 
 The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. 
 
 [Flourish, 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 King. 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. 
 
 126
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary, 
 
 A = one; I. iii. 243. 
 About; "go not about," "do not 
 beat about the bush"; I. iii. 
 
 193- 
 
 Accordingly, equally; II. v. 8. 
 
 Across; "break across," a term 
 used in tilting; here used for 
 a passage at arms of wit; II. 
 i. 70. ^ 
 
 Act, action; I. ii. 31. 
 
 Admiration, that which excites 
 admiration; II. i. 91. 
 
 Adoptions; "a. Christen- 
 doms " = " adopted christian 
 names "; I. i. 183. 
 
 Advertisement, advice ; IV. iii. 
 225. 
 
 Advice, discretion ; III. iv. 19. 
 
 Alone; " alone must think," 
 must only think ; I. i. 194. 
 
 Ample, amply; III. v. 46. 
 
 Anatomised, laid open, shown 
 up ; IV. iii. 35. 
 
 Antiquity, old age; II. iii. 212. 
 
 Appeach'd = impeached, in- 
 formed against (you) ; I. iii. 
 196. 
 
 Applications, attempts at heal- 
 ing; I. ii. 75. 
 
 Apprehensive, " ruled by imagi- 
 nations and caprices," fantas- 
 tic; I. ii. 61. 
 
 Approof; " so in a. lives not his 
 epitaph as in your royal 
 
 speech " = " his epitaph re- 
 ceives by nothing such con- 
 firmation and living truth as 
 by your speech " ; I. ii. 52 ; 
 " valiant a." = approved val- 
 our; II. V. 2. 
 
 Approved, proved; I. ii. 11. 
 
 Araise, raise from the dead ; II. 
 i. 79. 
 
 Armipotent, omnipotent; IV. 
 iii. 250. 
 
 Artists; " relinquished of the 
 artists," i. e. given up, de- 
 spaired of by learned doc- 
 tors; II. iii. 10. 
 
 Attempt, venture; I. iii. 259. 
 
 Attends, awaits; II. iii. 52. 
 
 Authentic, of acknowledged 
 authority ; II. iii. 12. 
 
 Avails, advantage, promotion; 
 III. i. 22. 
 
 Band = hond; IV. ii. 56. 
 Barber's chair; " like a b. c." ; 
 
 a proverbial expression 
 
 (found in Ray's Proverbs, 
 
 etc.) ; II. ii. 17. 
 Baring, shaving; IV. i. 54. 
 Barnes (the reading of Folio i ; 
 
 the other Folios " beams " or 
 
 "barns"), children; I. in. 28. 
 Bauble, the fool's rod, the 
 
 badge of his office ; IV. v. 32. 
 
 (Q.illustrationonnext page.) 
 
 127
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 (a) From MS. 6829, National Library, Paris. 
 
 (d) and (c) From ivory carvings in the Maskell collection and in the Louvre. 
 
 Be; "to be" = to be called; I. 
 
 ii. 60. 
 Bestow, guard, treasure up ; I. 
 
 iii. 230. 
 Better = men your superior; 
 
 III. i. 22. 
 Big, haughty ; I. iii. 98. 
 Blaze (Theobald's conjecture 
 
 for "blade" of the Folios), 
 
 heat, fire ; V. iii. 6. 
 Blood, nature, disposition ; I. 
 
 iii. 136; passion; III. vii. 21. 
 Boarded, wooed; V. iii. 211. 
 Bold, assured ; V. i. 5. 
 Bond, duty, obligation ; I, iii. 
 
 193- 
 Both; " both our mothers," the 
 
 mother of us both ; I. iii. 168. 
 Braid, deceitful; IV. ii. 73. 
 Braving, defiant; I. ii. 3. 
 Breaking, breaking up, disband- 
 ing; IV. iv. II. 
 Breathe, take exercise; II. iii. 
 
 261. 
 Breathing, exercise, action; I. 
 
 ii. 18. 
 
 Brief; " now-born br.," i.e. the 
 contract recently made " 
 (Warburton, " new-born ") ; 
 II. iii. 181. 
 
 Bring = take; III. v. 96. 
 
 Broken; "my mouth no more 
 were broken." had not lost 
 its teeth; II. iii. 61. 
 
 Brokes, uses as a medium; III, 
 V. 73- 
 
 Brought (?), "brought with 
 him " (changed by Theobald 
 to "bought") ; II. i. 65. 
 
 Bunting, a bird resembling a 
 lark in every particular, but 
 with little or no song; II. v. 
 6. 
 
 Buttock; "pin b., quatch b., 
 brawn b." = thin b., flat b., 
 fleshy b. ; II. ii. 18. 
 
 By, pass by (Warburton sup- 
 poses a line to be lost 
 after "past") ; II. iii. 236. 
 
 Canary, " a quick and lively 
 dance " ; II. i. 77. 
 
 128
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 " Can 't no other'' can it be no 
 other way; I. iii. 170. 
 
 Capable of, apt to receive the 
 impress of, susceptible ; I. i. 
 102; I. i. 218. 
 
 Cap of the time; "they wear 
 themselves in the c." = 
 "they are the very orna- 
 ments of the time"; II. i. 55. 
 
 Capriccio, caprice, whim; II. iii. 
 
 299- 
 Captions, " recipient, capable of 
 
 receiving what is put into it " 
 
 (Malone) ; others suggest 
 
 " cap'cious " or " capacious," 
 
 or = Latin " captiosus," i.e. 
 
 deceitful or fallacious; I. iii. 
 
 207. 
 Carbonadoed, cut across, like 
 
 meat for broiling; IV. v. 105. 
 Case, flay, skin ; strip off his 
 
 disguise; III. vi. 107. 
 Catch' d, caught, perceived; I. 
 
 iii. 175. 
 Ccsse (the reading of Folio i ; 
 
 Folio 2, ceasse; Folio 3, 
 
 ccass), cease; V. iii. 72. 
 Champion, knight who fought 
 
 for a person ; IV. ii. 50. 
 Change, interchange ; III. ii. 
 
 100. 
 Chape, " the metallic part at the 
 
 end of the scabbard " ; IV. 
 
 iii. 154. 
 Charge, cost; II. iii. 116. 
 
 Choice; "most rich c," choicest 
 
 treasure; III. vii. 26. 
 Choughs language, chattering; 
 
 IV. i. 22. 
 Cites, proves; I. iii. 215. 
 Clew, a ball of thread; I. iii. 
 
 187. 
 Coil, ado, fuss ; " kept a coil 
 
 with," made a fuss about ; II. 
 
 i. 27. 
 Collateral, indirect; I. i. 95. 
 Colour; " holds not c," is not 
 
 in keeping; II. v. 61. 
 Commission, warrant; II. iii. 
 
 268. 
 Commoner, harlot; V. iii. 194. 
 Companion, fellow (used con- 
 temptuously) ; V. iii. 250. 
 Company, companion ; IV. iii. 
 
 Composition, compact; IV. iii. 
 
 20. 
 Conipt, account; V. iii. 57. 
 Condition, character; IV. iii. 
 
 184. 
 Congied with, taken my leave 
 
 of ; IV. iii. 92. 
 Consolate, console; III. ii. 131. 
 Convenience, propriety; III. ii. 
 
 75. 
 Conversation, intercourse ; I. 
 
 iii. 239. 
 Coragio, courage ; II. v. 94. 
 Coranto, a quick, lively dance; 
 
 II. iii. 44. 
 
 Courante or Goranto 
 
 The movements are — 
 
 I, 2, simple gauche ; 3, 4, simple droit ; and 5-8, a " double ^ gauche. 
 
 From Naylor's Shakespeare and Music. 
 
 129
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Corrupt, misquote ; I. iii. 83. 
 
 Count of, take c. of ; IV. iii. 243- 
 
 County, Count ; III. vii. 22. 
 
 " Cox my passion," a corrup- 
 tion of " God 's my passion ! " 
 V. ii. 41- 
 
 Credence, trust; III. iii. 2. 
 
 Cressid's uncle, i.e. Pandarus ; 
 III. i. 100. 
 
 Crown; "French c." ; bald 
 head; II. ii. 22. 
 
 Crown; "the fine's the c"; 
 probably a translation of the 
 Latin proverb, "Finis coro- 
 nat opus" ; IV. iv. 35. 
 
 Curd, curdle; I. iii. I54- 
 
 Curious, careful; I. ii. 21. 
 
 Curiously, carefully ; IV. iii. 2)7- 
 
 Custard; " Like him that leaped 
 into the custard," an allusion 
 to the custom at City ban- 
 quets for the City fool to 
 leap into a large bowl of cus- 
 tard set for the purpose; II. 
 V. 38. 
 
 Customer, harlot; V. iii. 284. 
 
 Darkly, secretly; IV. iii. 11. 
 
 Deadly (used adverbially) ; V. 
 iii. 117. 
 
 Death; " the white d.," the pale- 
 ness of death ; II. iii. 72. 
 
 Debate it, strive for the mas- 
 tery; I. ii. 76. 
 
 D£'&o.y/i'cf = debauched, pervert- 
 ed; II. iii. 140. 
 
 Default, at need ; II. iii. 232. 
 
 D^/jV^ranc^ = delivery ; II. i. 85. 
 
 Delivers, tells ; IV. iii. 164. 
 
 Dial, clock, watch; II. v. 5. 
 
 Diet, to prescribe a regimen or 
 scanty diet (hence " to deny 
 
 me the full rights of wife ") ; 
 V. iii. 221 ; " he is dieted to 
 his hour," i.e. " the hour of 
 his appointment is fixed " ; 
 IV. iii. 32. 
 
 Digested, absorbed ; V. iii. 74. 
 
 Dilated, prolonged, detailed ; 
 IL i. 59. 
 
 Dilemmas, perplexing situa- 
 tions; III. vi. 77. 
 
 Distinction; *' confound d.," 
 make it impossible to distin- 
 guish them one from the 
 other; II. iii. 122. 
 
 Diurnal; " d. ring," daily cir- 
 cuit ; II. i. 165. 
 
 Dole, portion, share; II. iii. 171. 
 
 Dolphin, possibly used with a 
 quibbling allusion to Dolphin 
 = Dauphin ; but perhaps only 
 "the sportive, lively fish" is 
 alluded to; II. iii. 26. 
 
 From the Hortus Sanitatis (ed. 1536). 
 
 Ears, ploughs, cultivates ; I. iii. 
 
 46. 
 Embossed, inclosed (like game 
 
 in a wood) ; a term used in 
 
 hunting; III. vi. 103. 
 
 130
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Emhoix'cird, exhausted; I. iii. 
 
 246. 
 Encounter, meeting; III. vii. 32. 
 Entertainment, service, pay; 
 
 III. vi. 12; IV. i. 17. 
 Entrenched, cut; II. i. 45. 
 Estate, rank, social grade; III. 
 
 vii. 4. 
 Estates, ranks, social status ; I. 
 
 iii. 116. 
 Esteem,h.\gh. estimation, worth; 
 
 V. iii. I. 
 Estimate; "in thee hath e.," is 
 
 enjoyed by thee; II. i. 183. 
 Even, act up to ; I. iii. 3 ; 
 
 " make it e.," grant it ; II. i. 
 
 194; full; V. iii. 323. 
 Examined, questioned; III. v. 
 
 Exorcist, one who raises spir- 
 its ; V. iii. 302. 
 
 Expedient, (?) expeditious, 
 quick; II. iii. 181. 
 
 Expressive, open-hearted; II. i. 
 54. 
 
 Facinerious, Parolles' blunder 
 for " facinorous " ; II. iii. 30. 
 
 Faith, religious faith; IV. i. 80. 
 
 Falls, befalls; V. i. ZJ- 
 
 Fancy, liking, love; II. iii. 170. 
 
 Fated, fateful ; I. i. 227. 
 
 Favour, face, figure, counte- 
 nance ; I. i. 90 ; V. iii. 49. 
 
 Fed; " highly fed," used quib- 
 blingly in double sense; (i) 
 well fed, and (2) well bred; 
 perhaps also with an allusion 
 to the proverb " better fed 
 than taught " ; II. ii. 3. 
 
 Fee-simple, unconditional pos- 
 session ; IV. iii. 295. 
 
 Fetch off, rescue ; III. vi. 19. 
 Fine; " in fine " = in short ; 
 
 III. vii. Z2>' 
 Fine, artful ; V. iii. 266. 
 Fisnomy, the clown's corrup- 
 tion of " physiognomy " ; IV. 
 
 V. 41. 
 Fleshes, satiates; IV. iii. 17. 
 Fond; " fond done, done fond," 
 
 done foolishly, done fondly ; 
 
 I. iii. 75; foolish; V. iii. 178. 
 Fondness, love; I. iii. 175. 
 For = because ; III. v. 44. 
 Foregone, gone before, past; I. 
 
 iii. 139. 
 Found ^'ionnd. out; II. iii. 
 
 208; II. iv. 31. 
 Frank, liberal, generous; I. ii. 
 
 21. 
 
 Gamester, harlot; V. iii. 188. 
 Garter; " g. up thy arms " ; II. 
 
 iii. 255. (Cp. the following 
 
 illustration.) 
 
 From a painting (early XVIIth Cent). 
 The engraving represents a servant 
 in attendance at table, whose sleeves 
 are gartered up and tucked in his 
 girdle out of the way. 
 
 Grace, favour ; V. ii. 50. 
 
 131
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Gossips, stands gossip, i.e. 
 
 sponsor for; I. i. 184. 
 Go under, pass for; III. v. 21. 
 Gross, palpable ; I. iii. 177. 
 
 Haggish, ugly and wrinkled, 
 like a hag; I. ii. 30. 
 
 Hand; " in any h.," in any case ; 
 III. vi. 44. 
 
 Haply, perhaps; III. ii. 79. 
 
 Happy; " in h. time," i.e. " in 
 the nick of time"; V. i. 6. 
 
 Hawking, hawk-like; I. i. loi. 
 
 Helm = helmet; III. iii. 7. 
 
 Heraldry; "gives j'-ou h.," en- 
 titles you to ; II. iii. 268. 
 
 Herb of grace, i.e. rue; IV. v. 
 18. 
 
 "Hie jacet," the beginning of 
 an epitaph meaning " here 
 lies," die in the attempt ; III. 
 vi. 64. 
 
 High bent (a metaphor taken 
 from the bending of a bow) ; 
 V. iii. 10. 
 
 Higher, further up (into 
 Italy) ; IV. iii. 45. 
 
 High-repented, deeply repent- 
 ed; V. iii. ^6. 
 
 Hilding, a base wretch; III. vi. 
 3. 
 
 His, its ; I. ii. 42. 
 
 Hold, maintain ; I. i. 84. 
 
 Holding, blinding force; IV. ii. 
 27. 
 
 Home, thoroughly ; V. iii. 4. 
 
 Honesty, chastity; III. v. 64. 
 
 Hoodman (an allusion to the 
 game of " hood-man blind," 
 or " Blindmanbuff ") ; IV. iii. 
 127. 
 
 Host, lodge; III. v. 96. 
 
 Housewife; " I play the noble 
 h. with the time," spoken 
 ironically; II. ii. 61. 
 
 Howsome'er (Folios i and 2, 
 " howsomere " ; Folio 3, 
 " howsomeere " ; Folio 4, 
 " howsomere" ) , howsoever ; 
 
 I. iii. 56. 
 
 Idle, foolish, reckless ; II. v. 
 
 51 ; III. vii. 26. 
 Important, importunate; III. 
 
 vii. 21. 
 Importing, full of import ; V. 
 
 iii. 136. 
 Impositions, things imposed; 
 
 commands ; IV. iv. 29. 
 In, into ; V. ii. 48. 
 
 ; " to in," to get in ; I. iii. 47. 
 
 Inaidable, cureless, incurable; 
 
 II. i. 122. 
 
 Inducement, instigation; III. ii. 
 91. 
 
 Instance, proof ; IV. i. 45. 
 
 Intenible, incapable of holding 
 or retaining; I. iii. 207. 
 
 Intents, intentions ; III. iv. 21. 
 
 Into (so Folios i, 2 ; Folios 3, 4, 
 "unto"), upon; I. iii. 259. 
 
 Isbels, waiting women gener- 
 ally; III. ii. 13, 14. 
 
 Jack-an-apcs, ape, monkey; 
 used as a term of contempt; 
 
 III. V. 87. 
 
 I Old, knock ; I. iii. 57. 
 lustified, proved ; IV. iii. 58. 
 
 Kicky-wicky, " a ludicrous 
 term for a wife " ; II. iii. 286, 
 
 Kind, nature ; I. iii. 66 ; I. iii. 
 184. 
 
 132
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Knozvingly, from experience; 
 I. iii. 255. 
 
 Lack, want, need; III. iv. 19. 
 
 Langnishings, lingering mal- 
 ady; I. iii. 234. 
 
 Last, last time; V. iii. 79. 
 
 Late, lately ; I. iii. 109. 
 
 Leaguer, camp of besieging 
 army; III. vi. 26. 
 
 Led, carried ; " Has led the 
 drum before the English 
 tragedians " ; alluding to the 
 strolling players who were 
 wont to announce their ad- 
 vent by a drum ; IV. iii. 282. 
 (See Notes.) 
 
 Left off, abandoned; I. iii. 246. 
 
 Leg; " make a leg," make a 
 bow; II. ii. 10. 
 
 Lend it, give love; I. ii. 69. 
 
 Lie, lodge; III. v. 32. 
 
 Ling, a fish eaten during Lent ; 
 here used in the general 
 sense of meagre food ; III. ii. 
 
 14 15. 
 
 Linsey-woolsey, literally a fab- 
 ric of wool and linen ; here a 
 medley of words ; IV. i. 13. 
 
 List, limit ; II. i. 53. 
 
 Live, to live ; II. i. 134. 
 
 Livelihood, liveliness, anima- 
 tion; I. i. 55. 
 
 'Longing (Folios correctly 
 "longing"), belonging; IV. 
 ii. 42. 
 
 Lordship, conjugal right and 
 duty; V. iii. 156. 
 
 Lustig, lusty, sprightly ; II. iii. 
 42. 
 
 Madding, maddening; V. iii. 
 213. 
 
 Make, look upon as ; V. iii. 5. 
 
 Manifest, acknowledged, well- 
 known ; I. iii. 228. 
 
 Married. ..marr'd; pronounced 
 much alike in Elizabethan 
 English; hence used quib- 
 blingly; II. iii. 304. 
 
 Marseilles (trisyllabic; Folio i 
 spells the name " Marcellae," 
 
 IV. iv. 9; "Marcellus," IV. 
 V.85). 
 
 Maudlin, colloquial form of 
 
 Magdalen; V. iii. 68. 
 Measure, dance; II. i. 58. 
 Medicine, physician ; II. i. 75. 
 Mell, meddle; IV. iii. 242. 
 Alere, merely, nothing but; III. 
 
 V. 57. 
 
 Merely, absolutely; IV. iii. 23. 
 
 Methinks't, it seems to me; II. 
 iii. 259. 
 
 Mile-end; alluding to the fact 
 that the citizens of London 
 used to be mustered and 
 drilled there; IV. iii. 286. 
 
 Misdoubt, mistrust ; I. iii. 129. 
 
 Misprising, despising; III. ii. 
 
 Misprision, contempt; II. iii. 
 154. 
 
 Modern, common ; II. iii. 2. 
 
 ("modest" has been 
 
 suggested as an emendation), 
 modish, stylish (rather than 
 "ordinary" " common- 
 place ") ; V. iii. 216. 
 
 Modest; " a m. one/' i.e. " a 
 moderately favourable one " ; 
 
 n. i. 131. 
 
 Module, pattern, model ; IV. iii. 
 
 105. 
 Moiety, part, share; III. ii. 69. 
 
 133
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL'S WELL 
 
 Monstrous, monstrously ; IT. i. 
 187. 
 
 Monumental memorial; IV. iii. 
 18. 
 
 Morris, Morris-dance; II. ii. 24. 
 (See Naylor's Shakespeare 
 and Music, p. 205, and illus- 
 tration at end of Notes.) 
 
 " Mort du vinaigre" (Folios 
 "mor du vinager"), a mean- 
 ingless oath used by Parol- 
 les; II. iii. 45. 
 
 Motive, instrument ; IV. iv. 20. 
 
 Murk, murky; II. i. 166. 
 
 Muse, wonder, conjecture; II. 
 V. 67. 
 
 Mute; " all the rest is mute," I 
 have no more to say to you ; 
 II. iii. 78. 
 
 Mystery, professional skill ; III. 
 vi. 66. 
 
 Nature, temperament ; III. i. 
 
 17; way; IV. iii. 163. 
 Naughty, good for nothing; V. 
 
 iii. 252. 
 Necessitated to, in need of; V. 
 
 iii. 85. 
 Next, nearest; I. iii. 62. 
 Nice, prudish ; V. i. 15. 
 Note, mark of distinction, 
 
 record ; I. iii. 162. 
 
 Of, by; I. iii. 202; V. iii. 196; 
 
 on; II. iii. 243; III. v. 102. 
 OMced all, performed all the 
 
 duties or offices ; III. ii. 129. 
 Of them, some of that kind ; II. 
 
 V. 47. 
 
 " O Lord, sir! " An exclamation 
 much used in fashionable so- 
 ciety in Shakespeare's time; 
 II. ii. 43- 
 
 On, of; I. iii. 141. 
 
 Order, precautions, measures ; 
 
 IV. ii. 55. 
 
 Ordinaries, meals, repasts ; II. 
 iii. 203. 
 
 Out, over ; I. ii. 59. 
 
 Outzvard, not in the secret, un- 
 initiated; III. i. II. 
 
 Overlooking, supervision ; I, i. 
 42. 
 
 Ozve, own, II. v. 81 ; owes, 
 owns. II. i. 9; owed, owned, 
 
 V. iii. 198. 
 
 Pace; "a certain and pre- 
 scribed walk " ; IV. v. 70. 
 Palmers, pilgrims; III. v. 36. 
 
 From a jet figure of St. Jaques in the 
 Museum of Mr. C. Roach Smith, The 
 saint is dressed as a pilgjiixi, with 
 staff, book and gourd-bottle. 
 
 Particular, part; II. v. 6z. 
 
 Parting; "present p." immedi- 
 ate departure ; II. v. 58. 
 
 Passage, anything that passes, 
 or occurs ; an event ; I. i. 20. 
 
 Passport, sentence to death; 
 III. ii, 58. 
 
 134
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Patience; "ours be your p.," let 
 your patient hearing be ours ; 
 Epil. 33(i- 
 
 Perspective, " a glass so cut as 
 to produce an optical decep- 
 tion " ; V. iii. 48. 
 
 Picking; " p. a kernel out of a 
 pomegranate " ; stealing the 
 most trifling article; II. iii. 
 265. 
 
 Pilot's glass, hour glass; II. i. 
 168. 
 
 Place, precedence; I. i. no. 
 
 Plausive, plausible, pleasing; I. 
 
 ii. 54- 
 Please it, if it please ; III. v. 99. 
 
 Plutus (Rowe's correction of 
 " Platus," the reading of the 
 Folios), the god of wealth; 
 V. iii. loi. 
 
 Poising us, adding the weight 
 of our patronage; II. iii. 156. 
 
 Port, gate; III. v. 37- 
 
 Practiser, practitioner; II. i. 
 188. 
 
 Present, immediate; II. ii. 65. 
 
 Presently, immediately, at 
 once; II. iii. 161. 
 
 Prime, flower of life ; II. i. 185. 
 
 Probable need, apparently nec- 
 essary ; II. iv. 50. 
 
 Proceeds, results ; IV. ii. 62. 
 
 Profession, that which she pro- 
 fesses to be able to do ; II. i. 
 86. 
 
 Proper, used to emphasize 
 own; IV. ii. 49. 
 
 Proper, virtuous ; IV. iii. 225. 
 
 Property, " that which is proper 
 to," " particular quality " ; II. 
 i. 190. 
 
 Quart d'ecu (the Folios " car- 
 ~^ decue," V. ii. 35 ; Folio i, 
 " cardceu," Folios 2, 3, 4' 
 "cardecue," IV. iii. 239; the 
 Folio spellings represent the 
 colloquial pronunciation of 
 the word in English) ; the 
 quarter of a " French crown " 
 = fifteen pence ; V. ii. 35. 
 
 From a specimen of the time of Charles IX. The large A beneath the shield 
 denotes that the coin was minted at Paris. 
 
 Predominant, in the ascendant; 
 
 I. i. 206. 
 Prejudicates, prejudices; I. ii. 
 
 9. 
 
 Questant, he who is on the 
 
 quest, seeker ; II. i. 16. 
 Quick, living; V. iii. 301- 
 Quit, acquit; V. iii. 297. 
 
 135
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Rate, price ; V. iii. 217. 
 Ravin, ravenous; III. ii. 120. 
 Reave, bereave, deprive; V. iii. 
 86. 
 
 Rebellion; "natural r.," rebel- 
 lion of nature, V. iii. 6 ; " God 
 delay our r.," i.e. " put off 
 the day when our flesh shall 
 rebel," IV. iii. 21. 
 
 Religions, a holy obligation ; II. 
 iii. 185. 
 
 Remainder (a legal term) = 
 something limited over to a 
 third person on the creation 
 of an estate less than that 
 which the grantor has; IV. 
 iii. 297. 
 
 Removes, post-stages; V. iii. 
 13I; 
 
 Repairs, restores, does me 
 good; I. ii. 31. 
 
 Repeal' d, called back; II. iii. 
 50. 
 
 Repetition, remembrance ; V. 
 iii. 22. 
 
 Replete, full; II. iii. 178. 
 
 Resolvedly, satisfactorily ; V. 
 iii. 329. 
 
 Respects, reasons ; II. v. 68. 
 
 Rest; " set up your r.," are re- 
 solved; II. i. 138. 
 
 Richest ; " r. eyes," i.e. eyes 
 having seen the most; V. iii. 
 
 17- 
 
 Ring-carrier, go-between, pan- 
 
 dar ; III. v. 94. 
 Rousillon, an old province of 
 
 France, separated from Spain 
 
 by the Pyrenees ; I. ii. 19. 
 RufF, (?) the ruffle of the boot 
 
 (that is, the part turned over 
 
 the top) ; III. ii. 7. 
 
 From a French print, dated 1603, 
 Rush, rush ring; II. ii. 23. 
 
 From an engraving by Fairholt. 
 
 Ruttish, lustful; IV. iii. 228. 
 
 Sacrament; "take the s. on it," 
 take my oath on it; IV. iii. 
 146. 
 
 Sadness; " in good s.," in all 
 seriousness ; IV. iii. 215. 
 
 Saffron; " villanous s.," allu- 
 ding to the fashion of wear- 
 ing yellow ; IV. v. 2. 
 
 Sanctimony, sanctity; IV. iii. 
 
 53- 
 
 Satisfaction; "heavy s.," sor- 
 rowful acquiescence; V. iii. 
 100. 
 
 Scarfs and bannerets, silken or- 
 naments hung upon various 
 parts of the attire; II. iii. 205. 
 
 Schools, medical schools; I. iii. 
 
 245- 
 Season; "a day of s.." a sea- 
 sonable day ; V. iii. 32. 
 
 136
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Senoys, Sienese, inhabitants of 
 Siena; I. ii. i. 
 
 Sense, thought ; I. i. 235. 
 
 Shall = vi'\\\ assuredly; III. ii. 
 24. 
 
 Shallow; " you 're shallow in 
 great friends," " you are a 
 superficial judge of the char- 
 acter of great friends,"; I. iii. 
 44. 
 
 Shrewd, evil, bad ; III. v. 70. 
 
 Shrewdly, highly, badly; III. v. 
 91. 
 
 Shrieve's fool, sheriff's (fe- 
 male) fool ; IV. iii. 199. 
 
 From an old Flemish picture of 
 drinking-party (1596). 
 
 Sick for, pining for; I. ii. 17. 
 
 Sinister, left ; II. i. 44. 
 
 Sith (Folio I reads " sir " ; 
 
 emended by Dyce), since; V. 
 
 iii. 155. 
 Sithence, since ; I. iii. 123. 
 Smock; "the forehorse to a 
 
 smock," as a squire of ladies ; 
 
 used contemptuously; II. i. 
 
 30- 
 
 Smoked, scented; III. vi. iii. 
 Snipt-taffeta fellow^ a fellow 
 
 dressed in silks and ribbons; 
 
 IV. V. I. 
 Solely, absolutely, altogether; 
 
 I. i. 108. 
 
 Solemn, ceremonious ; IV. iii. 
 82. 
 
 Sovereignty; "general s.," 
 " sovereign remedies in va- 
 rious cases " ; I. iii. 229. 
 
 Spark, fashionable young man; 
 
 II. i. 25. 
 
 Spend, use, employ; V. i. 8. 
 
 Spirit (monosyllabic = sprite) ; 
 II. i. 178. 
 
 Spoke, spoken ; II. v. 57. 
 
 Sportive, pleasure-giving; III. 
 ii. 109. 
 
 Sprat, a worthless fellow, used 
 contemptuously ; III. vi. 109. 
 
 Staggers, " perplexity, bewil- 
 derment " ; II. iii. 165. 
 
 St. Jaques le Grand; probably 
 St. James of Compostella in 
 Spain, though probably 
 Shakespeare had no particu- 
 lar shrine of St. James in 
 mind ; III. v. 2>^. 
 
 Stall, keep close conceal ; I. iii. 
 130. 
 
 Star; " the most received s.," 
 leader of fashion ; II. i. 57, 
 
 Stead, help, aid; V. iii. 87. 
 
 Steely; "virtue's steely bones," 
 = " steel-boned, unyielding, 
 and uncomplying virtue " ; I. 
 i. 115- 
 
 Stomach, inclination ; III. vi. 
 
 Straight, directly, straightway; 
 IV. i.2I. 
 
 137
 
 Glossary 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Strangers, foreign troops ; IV. 
 i.i6. 
 
 Stronger, most important; IV. 
 iii. 59- 
 
 Subscribed to, " acknowledged 
 the state of " ; V. iii. 96. 
 
 Success, issue; III. vi. 83. 
 
 ; "abstract of s.," suc- 
 cessful summary proceeding; 
 IV. iii. 91. 
 
 Succession, others from doing 
 the same; III. v. 24. 
 
 Suggest, tempt ; IV. v. 47. 
 
 Superfluous, having more than 
 enough ; I. i. 112. 
 
 Supposition; "beguile the s.," 
 deceive the opinion ; set at 
 rest the doubt; IV. iii. 315. 
 
 Surprised, to be surprised; I. 
 iii. 119. 
 
 Sword; " Spanish s." (swords 
 of Toledo were famous) ; IV. 
 i. 52. 
 
 Sworn counsel, pledge of se- 
 crecy ; III. vii. 9. 
 
 Table, tablet ; I. i. 102. 
 Tax, reproach ; II. i. 173. 
 
 Tinct, tincture; V. iii. 102. 
 
 Title, want of rank; II. iii. 119. 
 
 To, for; II. iii. 296. 
 
 Toll (Folio I "toule"), prob- 
 ably = " pay a tax for the lib- 
 erty of selling " ; V. iii. 148. 
 
 Too much, excess ; III. ii. 92. 
 
 Too^ = taken; II. i. 150. 
 
 Top, head; I. ii. 44. 
 
 Travails in, works for; II. iii. 
 160. 
 
 Triple, third; II. i. iii. 
 
 Tucket, a flourish on the trum- 
 pet ; III. V. 7. 
 
 Undone, used quibblingly; IV. 
 
 iii. 338. 
 Unhappy, mischievous; IV. v. 
 
 66. 
 Unseason'd, inexperienced; I. i. 
 
 76. 
 Use, custom ; V. i. 24. 
 Used, treated; I. ii. 43. 
 
 Validity, value ; V. iii. 192. 
 
 Waggon, carriage ; IV. iv. 34. 
 (See illustration.) 
 
 From the Loutterel Psalter (XlVth Cent). 
 
 Theoric, theory; IV. iii. 152. 
 Thitherward, on his way 
 
 thither; III. ii. 55. 
 Those of mine, those kinsmen 
 
 of mine; I. iii. 258. 
 
 Wanted, was lacking; I. i. 
 
 II. 
 Ward, guardianship ; I. i. 5. 
 /^/a^ = had; III. ii. 46. 
 Wear, wear out; V. i. 4. 
 
 138
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Well-enter' d, being well-initi- 
 ated; II. i. 6. 
 
 Well found, of known skill; II, 
 i. 105. 
 
 Whence, from that place 
 where; III. ii. 124. 
 
 Whereof, with which ; I. iii. 
 
 234. 
 
 Which, which thing {i.e. dan- 
 ger, referring to the previous 
 clause) ; II. iii. 152. 
 
 Whom, which {i.e. death) ; III. 
 iv. 17. 
 
 Wing; " of a good w.," a term 
 derived from falconry ^ 
 strong in flight ; I. i. 213. 
 
 Woman, make me weak as a 
 
 woman ; III. ii. 53. 
 Woodcock, a popular name for 
 
 a brainless fellow, a fool ; 
 
 IV. i. 98. 
 Word, promise ; i.e. thy word, 
 
 or promise; II. i. 213. 
 World; "to go to the world," 
 
 = to get married ; I. iii. 19-20. 
 Worthy, well-deserved; IV. iii. 
 
 6. 
 Write, call myself, claim to be ; 
 
 II. iii. 200. 
 
 Yield, supply, tell; III. i. 10. 
 
 139
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Critical Notes. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. 
 
 I. i. 87, 88. 
 
 ' These great tears grace his remembrance more 
 Than those I shed for him; ' 
 
 i.e. " the big and copious tears she then shed herself, which were 
 caused in reaHty by Bertram's departure, though attributed by 
 Lafeu and the Countess to the loss of her father ; and from this 
 misapprehension of theirs graced his remembrance more than she 
 actually shed for him." 
 
 I. i. 156. ' ten year . . . ten,' Cambridge edition, based on 
 Hanmer, ' ten years . . . ten ' ; first Folio, ' ten yeare . . . 
 two.' 
 
 I. i. 169-173. These lines are struck out by some editors; the 
 Cambridge editors rightly call them ' a blot on the play ' ; they 
 were probably "' an interpolation, ' to tickle the ears of the ground- 
 lings.' " The opening words of the speech which follows are 
 obscure, and the enumeration of ' the loves ' looks like * the non- 
 sense of some foolish conceited player.' Hanmer's conjectural 
 reading has been inserted in the text between brackets. There is 
 no stop after yet in the Folios. 
 
 I. ii. 47. 'praise he humbled'; Staunton conjectures, 'praise be 
 humbled' ; Williams, 'praise the humbler.' 
 
 I. ii. 55. * He scattereth not in ears, but grafted them ' ; cp. the 
 Collect in the Liturgy : ' Grant, we beseech thee. Almighty God, 
 that the words which we have heard this day with our outward 
 ears may through thy grace be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, 
 that they may bring forth the fruit of good living,' etc. 
 
 I. ii, 57. 'this,' so the Folio; Pope read 'Thus,' possibly the 
 right word here. 
 
 I. iii. 25. 'service is no heritage' ; the idea seems to be that, 'if 
 service is no blessing, children are '; Psalm cxxvii. 3 has been ap- 
 propriately cited in connection with this expresson : — " Lo, chil- 
 dren are an heritage of the Lord." * 
 
 140
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Notes 
 
 I. iii. 55. Young Charhon the puritan and old Poysam the papist ; 
 ' Charbon ' possibly for ' Chair-bonne,' and ' Poysam ' for ' Pots- 
 son/ alluding to the respective lenten fares of the Puritan and 
 Papist (cp. the old French proverb, ' Jeune chair et viel poisson' 
 = young flesh and old fish are the best). 
 
 I. iii. ii8. *. . . queen of virgins'; Theobald inserted ' Dian 
 no ' before ' queen.' 
 
 I, iii. i68. ' / care no more for than I do for heaven ' ; Capell, 
 'I'd care no more for't' etc. 
 
 I. iii. 175. 'loneliness' ', Theobald's correction of Folios, ' loue- 
 liness.' 
 
 II. i. I, 2. 'lords' . . . 'lords'; probably the young noble- 
 men are divided into two sections according as they intend to take 
 service with the ' Florentines ' or the ' Senoys ' (cp. Note vi. Cam- 
 bridge edition). 
 
 II. i. 12-15. ' i^i higher Italy, — Those bated,' etc. ; the passage 
 is probably corrupt. 'Higher Italy' has been variously inter- 
 preted to mean (i) Upper Italy; (2) the side of Italy next to the 
 Adriatic (but both Florence and Sienna are on the other side) ; 
 (3) Italy higher in rank and dignity than France; (4) the noblest 
 of Italy, the worthiest among Italians. Johnson paraphrased as 
 follows : — ' Let upper Italy, where you are to exercise your valour, 
 see that you come to gain honour, to the abatement, that is, to the 
 disgrace and depression of those that have now lost their ancient 
 military fame, and inherit but the fall of the last monarchy.' 
 Schmidt proposed 'high' for 'higher'; Coleridge 'hired'; Ham- 
 mer 'bastards ' for ' bated.' Knight took 
 ' bated ' to mean ' excepted,' Schmidt 
 * beaten down.' 
 
 II. i. 32-3. '' No szvord worn but one to 
 dance with ' ; alluding to the light swords 
 worn for dancing. (Cp. the accompany- 
 ing drawing.) 
 
 II. i. 64. ' I 'II fee ' ; Theobald's emenda- 
 tion. Folios, ' He see.' 
 
 II. i. 80-1. ' To give great Charlemain a 
 pen in 's hand ' ; Charlemagne attempted 
 late in life to learn to write. 
 
 II. i. 147. 'fits'; Folios 'shifts,' prob- 
 ably due to misreading of iHfs, found in From an ornament on a 
 the margin of the Ellesmere First Folio, Pistol of Shakespeare's 
 independently suggested by Theobald. coTlection. ^ ^^"^ 
 
 141
 
 Notes ALL *S WELL 
 
 II. i. 176. 
 
 ' ne worse of ivorst extended, 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended'; 
 So Folio i;,the other folios read 'no' for ' ne/ Malone's 'nay' 
 for 'ne' commends itself, though his explanation of 'ex- 
 tended' as 'my body being extended on the rack' seems weak: 
 it is probably used here simply in the sense of ' meted out to me/ 
 or merely used for the purpose of emphasizing ' zi'orse of worst.' 
 A mass of conjectural emendations are recorded in the Cambridge 
 edition of the play. 
 
 II. ii. 23. ' Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger ' ; ' Tib and Tom ' 
 were used like ' Jack and Jill ' ; Tib was a cant term for any low 
 or vulgar woman. 'Rush rings' (see Glossary) were sometimes 
 used at marriage ceremonies, especially where the marriages were 
 somewhat doubtful (cp. Douce's Illustrations, p. 196). 
 
 II. iii. 1-41. Johnson changed the distribution of the speakers, 
 so as to bring out ' the whole merriment of the scene,' which, ac- 
 cording to him, ' consists in the pretensions of Parolles to knowl- 
 edge and sentiments which he has not.' Johnson has been gen- 
 erally followed by modern editors. The Folio arrangement has 
 been kept in the Cambridge text. 
 
 II. iii. 23. 'a showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor' ; 
 the title of some pamphlet is evidently ridiculed in these words^ 
 
 II. iii. y6. 'Imperial Love'; Folio i, ' iniperiall hue'; Folio 2, 
 ' iniperiall love ' ; Folio 3, ' impartiall Jove.' 
 
 II. iii. 80. ' ames-ace' i.e. two aces ; the lowest throw at dice ; 
 one would expect it, from the context, to mean just the contrary, 
 but Lafeu is probably making ' a comparison by contraries,' — ' an 
 ironical comparison,' used with humorous effect. " One lauding a 
 sweet-songed prima donna," aptly observed Brinsley Nicholson, 
 " says, I 'd rather hear her than walk a hundred miles with peas 
 in my boots." 
 
 II. iii. 298. ' detested' Rowe's emendation ; Folios, ' detected.' 
 
 II. v. 28. 'end'; the Folios have 'And'; the correction, from 
 the Ellesmere copy of the First Folio, has been generally adopted. 
 
 II. v. 49. ' Have or will to deserve ' ; Malone proposed ' have 
 qualities or will,' etc. ; Singer, ' wit or zvill ' ; the later Folios 
 omit ' to/ and read ' have, or will deserve ' ; the reading in the 
 text is that of Folio i. 
 
 III. i. 12, 13. 
 
 ' That the great figure of a council frames 
 By self-unable motion' ; 
 142 
 
 I
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 probably Clarke's explanation of these difficult lines is the best : — 
 " The reasons of our state I cannot give you, excepting as an ordi- 
 nary and uninitiated man, whom the august body of a government- 
 council creates with power unable of itself to act, or with power 
 incapable of acting of its own accord or independently." Others 
 make ' that' the subject of ' frames' explaining ' motion ' as ' men- 
 tal sight,' or ' intuition.' 
 
 III. ii. 9. 'sold'; so Folios 3, 4; Folios i, 2, 'hold'; Harness 
 proposed ' holds a goodly manner for.' 
 
 III. ii. 68. ' // thou engrossest all the griefs are thine'; the 
 omission of the relative is common in Shakespeare. Rowe un- 
 necessarily altered the line to 'all the griefs as thine.' 
 
 III. ii. 93. 'holds him much to have'; so the Folios; Theobald 
 conjectured 'soils him much to have'; others suggested ' 'hoves 
 him not much to have'; 'fouls him much to have' etc. Rolfe's 
 view of the passage seems by far the most satisfactory : — " He 
 has a deal of that too-much, i.e. excess of vanity, which makes 
 him fancy he has many good qualities." 
 
 III. ii. 113. 'still-peering air'; so Folio i; Folio 2, 'still- 
 piercing ' ; probably an error for ' still-piecing,' i.e. ' still closing.' 
 A passage in The Wisdom of Solomon (v. 12) has been appro- 
 priately compared, and may be the source of the thought: — "As 
 when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the air, which imme- 
 diately Cometh together again, so that a man cannot know where 
 it went through." 
 
 III. V. 68. ' I write good creature,' so Folio i ; Folios 2. 3, 4, ' / 
 right'; Rowe, 'Ah! right good creature!' The Globe edition, '/ 
 warrant, good creature' ; Kinnear, : 'I war'nt (^warrant), good 
 creature' (cp. Hamlet, I. ii. 243, Quarto 2. 'I warn't'). 
 
 III. V. 90. "Lose our drum. Well!" The drums of Parolles' 
 day were decorated with the battalion colours. 
 Hence to lose the drum was equivalent to losing 
 the flag of the regiment. 
 
 III. vi. 39. 'John Drum's Entertainment' ; 'to 
 give a person John Drum's Entertainment ' 
 probably meant to give him such an entertain- 
 ment as the drum gets ; hence * to give a person 
 a drumming,' to turn him forcibly out of your 
 company. Theobald quotes the following from 
 Holinshed's Description of Ireland: — "His por- 
 ter, or none other officer, durst not, for both his "^^9^ ^ woodcut by 
 ^, . 1 , ... Hans Burgmair, 
 
 ears, give the simplest man that resorted to his c. 1517. 
 
 143
 
 Notes ALL *S WELL 
 
 house, Tom Drum his entertainment, which is to hale a man in 
 by the head, and thrust him out by both the shoulders." In Mars- 
 ton's interlude, Jack Drum's Entertainment (1601), Jack Drum 
 is a servant who is constantly baffled in his knavish tricks. 
 
 IV. i. 47. ' Bajacet's mule ' ; the allusion has not yet been ex- 
 plained ; perhaps ' Bajaset' is a blunder on the part of Parolles 
 for ' Balaam's.' 
 
 IV. ii. 25. 'Jove's' probably substituted for the original God's, 
 in obedience to the statute against profanity. Johnson conjec- 
 tured ' Love's.' 
 
 IV. ii. 36. ' Who then recover' ; the Folios read 'who then re- 
 covers' changed unnecessarily by Pope to ' which then recover' 
 but ' who ' is often used for ' an irrational antecedent personified,' 
 though in this passage the antecedent may be ' of me ' implied in 
 ' my ' ; ' my sick desires ' ^ ' the sick desires of me ' ; in this latter 
 case ' recovers ' is the more common third person singular, instead 
 of the first person after 'who.' 
 
 IV. ii. 38. ' I see that men make rope's in such a scarre' the 
 reading of Folios i, 2 ; Folio 3, ' make ropes ' ; Folio 4, ' make 
 ropes . . . scarf This is one of the standing cruxes in the 
 text of Shakespeare ; some thirty emendations have been pro- 
 posed for 'ropes' and 'scarre,' e.g. 'hopes . . . aif airs'; 
 'hopes . . . scenes'; 'hopes . . . scare'; 'slopes . . . 
 scarre ' ; other suggestions are, ' may cope's . . . sorte ' ; ' may 
 rope's . . . snarle ' ; ' may rope's . . . snare/ etc. The apos- 
 trophe in the First and Second Folios makes it almost certain that 
 ' 's ' stands for ' us.' Possibly ' make ' is used as an auxiliary ; 
 ' make rope's' would then mean ' do constrain, or ensnare us.' Or 
 is 'make rope' a compound verb? 'scarre' may be 'scare' {i.e. 
 'fright'). The general sense seems to be, 'I see that men may 
 reduce us to such a fright that we '11 forsake ourselves.' 
 
 IV. iii. 202. ' Jlis brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.' 
 (See illustration.) 
 
 IV. iii. 265. ' He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister,' i.e. 
 ' anything, however trifling, from any place, however holy.' 
 
 IV. iii. 282. ' {he) has led the drum before the English trage- 
 dians.' (See illustration on page 146.) 
 
 IV. iii. 297. 'and a perpetual succession for it'; some such 
 verb as 'grant' is to be supplied. Hanmer altered 'for it' to 
 'in it'; Kinnear conjectured 'free in perpetuity.' 
 
 IV. iv. 34. 'revives'; so the Folios; 'reviles,' 'invites,' ' re- 
 
 144
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Notes 
 
 quires ' have been variously proposed : it is doubtful whether any 
 change is necessary: 'Time,' says Helena, 'gives us fresh courage.' 
 IV. V. 41. 'an English name'; Folios i, 2, 'maine'', Folio 3, 
 ' main ' ; Folio 4, 
 ' mean ' ; Rowe first sug- 
 gested ' name ' ; the allu- 
 sion is obviously to the 
 Black Prince. 
 
 IV. V. 41. ' his Hsnomy 
 is more hotter ' ; Han- 
 mer's proposal ' hon- 
 oured' for 'hotter' 
 seems to be a most 
 plausible emendation. 
 
 V. i. 6. ' Enter a Gen- 
 tleman ' ; Folio I reads 
 'A gentle Astringer' ; 
 Folio 2, 'A gentle As- 
 tranger ' ; Folios 3, 4, 
 'A Gentleman a stranger.' 
 'Astringer ' == a keeper of From Whitney's E^jiblems (1586), in illustration 
 o-^cV-o^rl-c • fVi^ ,,rr,rr1 CM- of " E story of three woHicn who threw dicc to 
 goshawks , the word oc- ascertain which of them should first die. She 
 
 who lost affected to laugh at the decrees of fate, 
 when a tile S7iddenly falling-, put an end to her 
 existence" (Douce). 
 
 curs nowhere else m 
 
 Shakespeare. There 
 
 seems, however, no very 
 
 particular reason for its omission in modern editions, though it is 
 
 true that in the Folio the speeches given to ' the Astringer ' all 
 
 have the prefix ' Gent! 
 
 V. ii. I. 'Good Monsieur Lavache'; Folio i, ' Lauatch' ; Folio 
 2, ' Lavatch' ; Folios 3, 4, ' Levatch' ; Toilet's conjecture, 'La- 
 vache' has been generally adopted. Clarke suggests that ' it may 
 have been intended for Lavage, which, in familiar French, is used 
 to express ' slop,' ' puddle,' ' washiness.' Something is to be said in 
 favour of Jervis's proposed reading, ' Lapatch' i.e. ' patch '^ 
 clown, with the prefix 'la' in imitation of ' Lafeu.' 
 
 V. ii. 26. ' Similes of comfort ' ; Theobald's certain emendation 
 for the reading of the Folios, ' smiles of comfort.' 
 
 V. iii. 65, 66. 
 
 ' Our own love waking cries to see zvhat's done. 
 While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.' 
 
 Johnson conjectured 'slept' for 'sleeps' i.e. 'love cries to see 
 
 145
 
 Notes 
 
 ALL'S WELL 
 
 what was done while hatred slept, and suffered mischief to be 
 done.' Mason proposed 'old' for 'own.' W. G. Clarke inge- 
 niously emended ' shameful hate ' into ' shame full late,' but the 
 emendation destroys the antithesis between ' love ' and / hate! It 
 is best to leave the lines as they stand, though the words ' our 
 own love ' are somewhat doubtful : the general meaning is simple 
 enough. 
 
 V. iii. 121. 'my fore-past proofs,' etc.; i.e. "the proofs which I 
 have already had are sufficient to show that my fears were not 
 vain and irrational. I have rather been hitherto more easy than 
 sought, and have unreasonably had too little fear" (Johnson). 
 
 V. iii. 195. ''tis hit,' the reading of the Folios, which has been 
 variously explained as an archaic form of ' it,' or as an error for 
 ' 'tis his' or ' is hit.' Cambridge edition, ' 'tis it,' but it seems 
 unnecessary to make any change; ''tis hit' can very well mean 
 * the blow has been well aimed, it has struck home,' ' it ' being used 
 impersonally. 
 
 V. iii. 216. 'Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,' 
 Walker's certain emendation of the Folio ' her insuite comming ' ; 
 
 " He has led the drum before the English tragedians " (IV. iii. 282). 
 
 From Kemp's Nine Dates Wonder (1600). The figures represent that actor, 
 
 as a morris dancer, and his laborer, Thomas Slye. 
 
 146
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 other suggestions have been made: — 'Her instant comity' (Bu- 
 bier) ; 'Her Jesuit cunning' (Bulloch) ; 'Her own suit, coming' 
 (Perring). 
 
 Epil. :^^2. ' The King's a beggar'; an allusion to the old story 
 of 'The King and the Beggar' (cp. Percy's Reliques), often re- 
 ferred to by Shakespeare; cp. 'Is there not a ballad, boy, of the 
 King and the Beggar f {Love's Labour's Lost, I. ii. 114) ; simi- 
 larly Richard H., V. iii. 80 :— 
 
 ' Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing. 
 And now chang'd to " The Beggar and the King." * 
 
 147
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 Explanatory Notes. 
 
 The Explanatory Notes in this edition have been specially selected and 
 adapted, with emendations after the latest and best authorities, from the 
 most eminent Shakespearian scholars and commentators, irrcluding Johnson, 
 Malone, Steevens, Singer, Dyce, Hudson, White, Furness, Dowden, and 
 others. This method, here introduced for the first time, provides the best 
 annotation of Shakespeare ever embraced in a single edition. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 Scene L 
 
 5. in ward: — Under the old feudal law of England, and until 
 comparatively recent times, the heirs of great fortunes were wards 
 of the sovereign. The same was also the case in some parts of 
 France, and Shakespeare but extends such a law over the whole 
 nation. 
 
 19, 20. O, that 'had'! etc.: — Clarke says: — "The Countess's 
 parenthetical exclamation concisely pictures all the calamitous cir- 
 cumstances involved in that one word had — the lost parent, the 
 young girl's orphanhood, her own dead husband, her son's past 
 dwelling with her at home, and his imminent departure." 
 
 47 et scq. in her they are the better, etc.: — "Her virtues," ob- 
 serves Johnson, " are the better for their simpleness ; that is, her 
 excellencies are the better because they are artless and open, with- 
 out fraud, without design." Johnson continues : " The learned 
 commentator [Warburton] has well explained virtues, but has 
 not, I think, reached the force of the word traitors, and therefore 
 has not shown the full extent of Shakespeare's masterly observa- 
 tion. Estimable and useful qualities, joined with an evil dispo- 
 sition, give that disposition power over others, who, by admiring 
 the virtue, are betrayed to the malevolence. The Tatlcr, mention- 
 ing the sharpers of his time, observes that some of them are men 
 of such elegance and knowledge that ' a young man who falls into 
 their way is betrayed as much by his judgement as his passions.' " 
 Clarke's explanation of the passage is : " We commend such ex- 
 
 148 
 
 I
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 cellencies with regret that they should be so good in themselves, 
 yet treacherous in their combination and effects ; and then the 
 Countess goes on to say that Helena's merits are the better for 
 their pure source, since she derives her integrity of nature from 
 her father, and achieves her excellence herself." 
 
 59. / do affect, etc. : — " In these, the first words she utters," as 
 Clarke interprets, " Helena uses the veiled language which marks 
 her diction throughout this opening Scene. She is brooding over 
 her secret thoughts, letting them but so indistinctly be seen as to 
 be undivined by those around her, and only so far perceived by 
 the reader as to enable him to gather what the dramatist intends 
 to indicate. The sorrow Helena affects is that for her father's 
 death ; the sorrow she says / have is for the inauspiciousness of 
 her love, and for Bertram's approaching departure." 
 
 62, 62). If the living, etc. : — " This speech," says Hudson, " enig- 
 matical enough at best, is rendered quite unintelligible, both in the 
 original and in modern editions, by being put into the mouth of the 
 Countess. We therefore concur with Tieck and Knight in assign- 
 ing it to Helena. It is in the same style of significant obscurity 
 as her preceding speech ; and we can see no meaning in it apart 
 from her state of mind, absorbed, as she is, with a feeling which 
 she dare not show and cannot suppress. Of course she refers to 
 Bertram, and means that the grief of her unrequited love for him 
 makes mortal, that is, kills the grief she felt at her father's death. 
 The speech is so mysterious that none but the quick, sagacious 
 mind of Lafeu is arrested by it: he at once understands that he 
 does not understand the speaker. Coleridge says, ' Bertram and 
 Lafeu, I imagine, both speak together.' Whether this be the case 
 or not, there can be no doubt that Lafeu's question refers to 
 what Helena has just said." "Tieck," says Rolfe, "(followed by 
 many editors) assigns this speech to Helena; and it must be ad- 
 mitted that it is in the veiled and enigmatical style she uses here. 
 But, on the other hand, it seems a natural antithetical comment 
 for any one to make on Lafeu's antithetical speech, and therefore 
 may be left to the Countess, as in the Folio. We think there is 
 also some force in White's objection that 'if this speech be as- 
 signed to Helena, Lafeu's question, excited by its quibbling nature, 
 is not put until after Bertram has turned the attention of the 
 audience by addressing another person, to wit, the Countess, whom 
 he asks for her blessing; in which case Lafeu's query is presuming 
 and discourteous, and the dramatic effect awkward. But if the 
 Countess be the last speaker, this is avoided.' " 
 
 149
 
 Notes ALL 'S WELL 
 
 80, 81. The best wishes, etc. : — That is. may you be mistress of 
 your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect. 
 
 104, 105. my idolatrous fancy, etc. : — Herford says : " Helen's 
 passion for Bertram seems to spring, not from any flaw in her 
 clear and penetrating mind, but from something fundamentally 
 irrational in the nature of love itself. Christian idealism sees the 
 peculiar glory of love in its power of transcending and ignoring 
 distinctions of merit, and pouring itself forth on the mean and 
 lowly. Modern Romanticism, from a kindred but distinct pomt 
 of view, has delighted to picture the salvation of a worthless man 
 by a woman's devoted love. But neither of these transcendent 
 ways of looking at love is anywhere suggested in Shakespeare. 
 Helen's love is an idolatry, and finds its highest expression in 
 adoring self-subjection." 
 
 117. Are you meditating on virginity f — "It is very character- 
 istic of the English renaissance," says Brandes, "and of 'the public 
 which Shakespeare had in view in his early plays, that he should 
 make this noble heroine take part with Parolles in the long and 
 jocular conversation on the nature of virginity, which is one of 
 the most indecorous passages in his works. This dialogue must 
 certainly belong to the original version of the play. We must re- 
 member that Helena, in that version, was in all probability very 
 different from the high-souled woman she became in the process 
 of revision. She no doubt expressed herself freely, according to 
 Shakespeare's youthful manner, in rhyming reveries on love and 
 fate. Or else he made her pour forth multitudinous swarms of 
 images, each treading on the other's heels, like those in which she 
 forecasts Bertram's love adventures at the court of France." 
 Some editors pronounce the whole conversation on virginity (118- 
 173) spurious. 
 
 239. and will not leave me: — Clarke remarks: "The noble mix- 
 ture of spirited firmness and womanly modesty, fine sense and 
 true humility, clear sagacity and absence of conceit, passionate 
 warmth and sensitive delicacy, generous love and self-diffidence, 
 with which Shakespeare has endowed Helena, renders her in our 
 eyes one of the most admirable of his female characters. Charles 
 Lamb, Coleridge, Hazlitt, and Mrs. Jameson have each eloquently 
 contributed to do homage to the beauty of Helena's character — 
 a beauty the more conspicuous from the difficulties of the story: 
 which demanded the combination of the utmost ardour in pas- 
 sion with the utmost purity and delicacy, the utmost moral cour- 
 age and intelligence of mind with the utmost modesty of nature, 
 
 150
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 to complete the conformation of its heroine." " Shakespeare," 
 says Brandes, " has worked out the figure of Helena with the ten- 
 derest partiality. Pity and admiration in concert seem to have 
 guided his pen. We feel in his portraiture a deep compassion for 
 the pangs of despised love — the compassion of one who himself 
 has suffered — and over the whole figure of Helena he has shed a 
 Raphael-like beauty. She wins all, charms all, wherever she goes 
 — old and young, women and men — all except Bertram, the one 
 in whom her life is bound up. The King and the old Lafeu are 
 equally captivated by her, equally impressed by her excellences. 
 Bertram's mother prizes her as if she were her daughter ; more 
 highly, indeed, than she prizes her own obstinate son. The Italian 
 widow becomes so devoted to her that she follows her to a for- 
 eign country in order to vouch for her statement and win her 
 back her husband." 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 [Enter . . . Clown.] The Clozvn in this comedy is a domes- 
 tic fool of the same kind as Touchstone in As You Like It. Such 
 fools were, in the Poet's time, maintained in great families to 
 keep up merriment in the house. Cartwright, in one of the copies 
 of verses prefixed to the works of Beaumont and Fletcher, cen- 
 sures such dialogues as this, and that between Olivia and the 
 Clown in Tzvclfth Night: — 
 
 " Shakespeare to thee was dull, whose best jest lies 
 I'th' lady's questions, and the fool's replies, 
 Old-fashion'd wit, which walk'd from town to town 
 In trunk-hose, which our fathers call'd the clozvn." 
 
 Douce classes the Clown of this comedy amongst the domestic 
 fools. Of this genus the same writer gives us three species, the 
 mere natural, or idiot ; the silly by nature, yet cunning and sar- 
 castical ; the artificial. Of this latter species, to which it appears 
 that the Clown before us belongs, Puttenham, in his Art of Eng- 
 lish Poesie, has defined the characteristics : " A buffoon, or coun- 
 terfeit fool, to hear him speak wisely, which is like himself, it is 
 no sport at all. But for such a counterfeit to talk and look fool- 
 ishly it maketh us laugh, because it is no part of his natural." Of 
 the real domestic fools of the artificial class — that is, of the class 
 of clever fellows who were content to be called fools for their 
 hire, Gabriel Harvey has given us some minor distinctions : 
 
 151
 
 Notes ALL 'S WELL 
 
 " Scoggin, the jovial fool; or Skelton, the melancholy fool; or 
 Elderton, the bibbing fool ; or Will Sommer, the choleric fool." 
 Shakespeare's fools each united in his own person all the peculiar 
 qualities that must have made the real domestic fool valuable. He 
 infused into them his wit and his philosophy, without taking them 
 out of the condition of realities. They are the interpreters, to the 
 multitude, of many things that would otherwise lie too deep for 
 words. 
 
 57, 58. joul horns, etc. : — It used to be thought in Shakespeare's 
 time that the Puritans and Papists stood so far apart as to meet 
 round on the other side, as extremes are apt to do. 
 
 96 et scq. Though honesty, etc. : — The controversy touching 
 such things as kneeling at the Communion and wearing the sur- 
 plice was raging quite fiercely in Shakespeare's time ; everybody 
 was interested in it ; so that the allusion in the text would be gen- 
 erally understood. The Puritans would have compelled every 
 one to wear the black gown, which was to them the symbol of 
 Calvinism. Some of them, however, conformed so far as to wear 
 the surplice over the gown, because their conscience would not 
 suffer them to officiate without the latter, nor the law of the 
 Church without the former. It is hard to conceive why they 
 should have been so hot against these things, unless it were that 
 the removing of them was only a pretence, while in reality they 
 aimed at other things. And we learn from Jeremy Collier, that 
 when Sir Francis Walsingham offered in the queen's name to 
 concede so far, they replied, "Ne ungulam esse relinquendam; 
 they would not leave so much as a hoof behind." How the war 
 was kept up may be judged from what Jeremy Taylor wrote sixty 
 years later : " But there are amongst us such tender stomachs that 
 cannot endure milk, but can very well digest iron; consciences so 
 tender, that a ceremony is greatly offensive, but rebellion is not; 
 a surplice drives them away as a bird affrighted with a man of 
 clouts : but their consciences can suffer them to despise govern- 
 ment, and speak evil of dignities, and curse all that are not of 
 their opinion, and disturb the peace of kingdoms, and commit 
 sacrilege, and account schism the character of saints." 
 
 142 et seq. " The scene," says Mrs. Jameson, " in which the 
 Countess extorts from Helena the confession of her love is per- 
 haps the finest in the whole play, and brings out all the striking 
 points of Helena's character. Though the acknowledgement is 
 wrung from her with an agony which seems to convulse her whole 
 being, yet when once she has given it solemn utterance, she re- 
 
 152
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 covers her presence of mind, and asserts her native dignity. In 
 her justification of her feelings and her conduct, there is neither 
 sophistry nor self-deception nor presumption, but a noble sim- 
 plicity, combined with the most impassioned earnestness ; while 
 the language naturally rises in its eloquent beauty, as the tide of 
 feeling, now first let loose from the bursting heart, comes pouring 
 forth in words. The whole scene is wonderfully beautiful." 
 
 156, 157. That this distempc/d messenger, etc. : — There is some- 
 thing exquisitely beautiful in this reference to the suffusion of 
 colours which glimmers around the eye when wet with tears. 
 The Poet has described the same appearance in his Rape of Lu- 
 cre ce, 1586: — 
 
 "And round about her tear-distained eye 
 Blue circles stream'd, like rainbows in the sky." 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 Scene L 
 
 37. our parting, etc. : — Our parting is as it were to dissever or 
 dismember a body. 
 
 88. Than I dare blame my weakness: — Steevens explains this 
 obscure expression thus : " To acknowledge how much she has 
 astonished me would be to acknowledge a weakness ; and this I 
 am unwilling to do." Mason, in this manner : " Lafeu's meaning 
 appears to be, that the amazement she excited in him was so great 
 that he could not impute it merely to his own weakness, but to 
 the wonderful qualities of the object that occasioned it." Clarke 
 interprets, " hath filled me with more well-grounded astonishment 
 than with weak credulity deserving blame." Halliwell says : " My 
 amazement is too great for me to accuse my weakness of creating 
 it ; I cannot impute my surprise to my credulity." 
 
 138. Since you set up, etc. : — That is, " Since you have made up 
 your mind that there is no remedy." 
 
 141, 142. So holy writ . . been babes: — Perhaps an allusion 
 to Matthew, xi. 25 : "I thank thee, O Father. Lord of heaven and 
 earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and pru- 
 dent, and hast revealed them unto babes." See also Daniel, i. 17- 
 20. 
 
 142. Great Hoods perhaps alludes to the smiting of the rock in 
 Horeb by Moses. 
 
 153
 
 Notes ALL 'S WELL 
 
 143, 144. great seas, etc. : — This refers, apparently, to the chil- 
 dren of Israel passing the Red Sea, when miracles had been denied 
 by Pharaoh. 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 43. Lord, sir! — A satire on this silly expletive, then much in 
 vogue at court and among the fashionable aristocracy. It was 
 ridiculed by other writers. Thus, in Jonson's Every Man in His 
 Humour: "You conceive me, sir? — O Lord, sir!" And Cleve- 
 land, in one of his songs : " Answer, O Lord, sir ! and talk play- 
 book oaths." 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 I et seq. Coleridge has a characteristic remark upon this pas- 
 sage : " Shakespeare, inspired, as might seem, with all knowledge, 
 here uses the word causeless in its strict philosophical sense ; 
 cause being truly predicable only of phenomena, that is, things 
 natural, not of noumena, or things supernatural." Bacon, in his 
 Essay, Of Atheism, has a remark apparently born of the same 
 experience that dictated the passage in the text : " It is true, that 
 a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism, but depth in 
 philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion ; for while the 
 mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may some- 
 times rest in them, and go no further ; but when it beholdeth the 
 chain of them confederate, and linked together, it must needs fly 
 to Providence and Deity." The topic seems to have been often 
 in the thoughts of that wonderful man : he has it again in his 
 Meditationes Sacra, and his Advancement of Learning. 
 
 100-102. This speech is usually printed as if the whole of it re- 
 ferred to Bertram ; which seems to render the latter part of it 
 unintelligible. To get over the difficulty, Theobald, and Hanmer 
 and Warburton after him, broke it into three speeches, giving to 
 Lafeu " There 's one grape yet," to Parolles " I am sure thy father 
 drunk wine," and the rest to Lafeu. There is no authority for 
 this ; besides, taking the latter part of the speech as addressed to 
 Parolles, all seems clear enough, and agrees well with what after- 
 wards passes between them. Of course, during this part of the 
 scene Lafeu and Parolles stand at some distance from the rest, 
 where they can see what is done, but not hear what is said ; there- 
 fore Lafeu has been speaking as if Helena were the refused, not 
 the refuser. 
 
 154
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 119 et seq. [King.] Herford remarks: " Shakespeare has rarely- 
 dwelt upon those class antagonisms of noble and bourgeois which 
 enter so largely into modern fiction ; as rarely the relation between 
 mother and daughter. His Countess ignores the one and assumes 
 the other — a silent tribute to Helena's distmction of character, as 
 to her own. Lafeu is an aristocrat of the same genial type, who 
 betrays only indignant wonder when the young nobles of the 
 court appear to refuse the proffered hand of the poor physician's 
 daughter. The king himself, instead of being ' very loath ' at 
 Helena's choice, accepts it with cordial alacrity, and checks Ber- 
 tram's scorn by a frankly democratic speech which saps the basis 
 of the whole fabric of social distinctions founded upon blood." 
 
 164. Or I will throw thee from my care for ever: — " Outspoken 
 enough in his first refusal," observes Lloyd, " Bertram yields — 
 not to the lecture on the nobility of merit as contrasted with that 
 of blood, but to the king's threat of severe and instant displeasure 
 in terms implying the privation of the chances of distinction he 
 is so disposed to value. . . . Thus urged, the double weakness 
 of his character appears — first in giving way to a threat, and then 
 in the facile employment of a certain glozing glibness in the terms 
 of his recantation, betraying a deep deficiency of innate truthful- 
 ness and hardy self-respect. The consent is a concession to 
 immediate pressure, and on the first escape from this, his earlier 
 project is embraced; and, with Parolles to aid and abet, he makes 
 off from his neglected bride for the Tuscan wars. The Bertram 
 of this Scene is evidently the same young nobleman who pursues 
 with promises of unlimited profusion the honour of Diana Capu- 
 let, and who to extricate himself from a difficulty, invents and 
 pours forth one lie after another with a volubility of tongue 
 almost gratuitous, and with every charitable allowance for his em- 
 barrassment, sufficiently repulsive." 
 
 235-237. for doing I am past, etc. : — Lafeu means, " as I will 
 pass by thee as fast as I am able " ; and he immediately goes out: 
 a quibble on pass. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 :i7. and well fed: — Perhaps the old saying, "better fed than 
 taught," is alluded to here, as in II. ii. 3, where the Clown says, 
 " I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught." 
 
 42-46. puts it off, etc. : — Puts it off in obedience to an enforced 
 restraint; the passive, compelVd, for the active, compelling. The 
 
 155
 
 Notes ALL'S WELL 
 
 meaning of the passage appears to be, that the delay of the joys 
 and the expectation of them, would make them more delightful 
 when they come. The curbed time is the time of restraint. Whose 
 want is the want of which, referring to prerogative and rite. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 6. bunting: — The bunting nearly resembles the skylark in size, 
 form, and feather, but has little or no song, which gives estima- 
 tion to the skylark. 
 
 38, 39. like him that leaped into the custard : — Ben Jonson men- 
 tions this custom in The Devil is an Ass, T. i. : — 
 
 " He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner, 
 Skip with a rhyme on the table, from New-nothing, 
 And take his Almain leap into a custard, 
 Shall make my lady mayoress and her sisters 
 Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders." 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 Scene IL 
 
 78. 'Tis bitter-. — Referring to Helena's whole attitude to Ber- 
 tram, Brandes says : " She ventures all that she may gain her well- 
 beloved, and in the pursuit of her aim shows an inventive capacity 
 not common among women. For the real object of her journey 
 to cure the King is, as she frankly confesses, to be near Bertram. 
 As in the tale, she obtains the King's promise that she may, if 
 she is successful in curing him, choose herself a husband among 
 the lords of his court; but in Boccaccio it is the King who, in 
 answer to her question as to the reward, gives her this promise 
 of his own accord ; in the play it is she who first states her wish. 
 So possessed is she by her passion for one who does not give her 
 a thought or a look. But when he rejects her (unlike Giletta in 
 the tale), she has no desire to attain her object by compulsion; 
 she simply says to the King with noble resignation, ' That you are 
 well restored, my lord, I'm glad; let the rest go.' She offers no 
 objection when Bertram, immediately after the wedding, an- 
 nounces his departure, alleging pretexts which she does not 
 choose to see through; she suft'ers without a murmur when, at 
 the moment of parting, he refuses her a kiss. When she has 
 
 156
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 learnt the whole truth, she can at first utter nothing but short 
 ejaculations : ' My lord is gone, for ever gone.' ' This is a dread- 
 ful sentence ! ' "Tis bitter ! ' — and presently she leaves her home, 
 that she may be no hindrance to his returning to it. Predisposed 
 though she is to self-confidence and pride, no one could possibly 
 love more tenderly and humbly '* 
 
 100. In reply to the gentlemen's declaration that they are her 
 servants, the Countess answers, not otherwise than as we return 
 the same offices of civility. 
 
 124, 125. Whence honour, etc. : — The sense is, " From that place, 
 where all the advantage that honour usually reaps from the dan- 
 ger it rushes upon, is only a scar in testimony of its bravery, as, 
 on the other hand, it often is the cause of losing all, even life 
 itself." 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 4. Saint Jaqucs' pilgrim:— At Orleans was a church dedicated 
 to Saint Jaques. to which pilgrims formerly used to resort to adore 
 a part of the cross which they believed to be there. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 53. His face I knozv not '.—Touching this passage, Coleridge 
 asks, " Shall we say here, that Shakespeare has unnecessarily 
 made his loveliest character utter a lie? Or shall we dare think 
 that, where to deceive was necessary, he. thought a pretended 
 verbal verity a double crime, equally with the other a lie to the 
 hearer, and at the same time an attempt to lie to one's con- 
 science?" Whatsoever may be the truth in this case, such, no 
 doubt, is often the result of overstraining the rule against deceiv- 
 ing others; it puts people upon skulking behind subterfuges for 
 the deceiving of themselves. We have often seen them use great 
 art to speak the truth in such a way as to deceive, and then hug 
 themselves in the conceit that they had not spoken falsely. 
 
 Scene VIL 
 
 45-48. Is wicked meaning, etc. :— The explanation of this riddle 
 is, that Bertram was to do a lawful deed with a wicked intent; 
 Helena, the same deed with a good intent; and that what was 
 really to be on both sides a lawful meeting was to seem in them 
 both a sinful act. 
 
 157
 
 Notes ALL 'S WELL 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene L 
 
 21, 22. choughs' language, etc. : — The sense of this passage ap- 
 pears to be: "We must each fancy a jargon for himself, without 
 aiming to be understood by each other; for, provided we appear 
 to understand, that will be sufficient." The chough is a bird of 
 the jackdaw kind. 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 14. my vows : — His vows never to treat Helena as his wife. 
 
 21-29. 'Tis not the many oaths, etc.: — Few passages in Shake- 
 speare have been more belaboured than this. To understand it, we 
 must bear in mind what Bertram has been doing and trying to 
 do. He has been swearing love to Diana, and in the strength of 
 that oath wants her to do that which would ruin her. This is 
 what she justly calls loving her ill, because it is a love that would 
 injure her. She therefore retorts upon him, that oaths in such a 
 suit are but an adding of perjury to lust. As to the latter part of 
 the passage, the lines have not been understood on account of the 
 inversion. The first him refers to Jove, and whom, not to this, but 
 to the second him; or rather whom and the latter him are cor- 
 relative. The meaning, then, at once appears, if we render the 
 sentence thus : " This has no holding, this will not hold, to swear 
 by Heaven that I will work against him, or seek his hurt, whom I 
 protest to love." What, therefore, does she conclude? why, that 
 his oaths are no oaths, but mere words and poor, unseal'd, unrati- 
 fied conditions. 
 
 Scene IH. 
 
 34-37. / would gladly, etc.: — This is a very just and moral 
 reason. Bertram, by finding how ill he has judged, will be less 
 confident and more open to admonition. 
 
 239. Half zvon, etc.: — That is, a match well made is half won; 
 make your match therefore, but make it well. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 21-25. But, O strange men, etc.: — Clarke explains: "When, by 
 permitting the beguiled imagination to rove forbiddenly, the dark- 
 
 158
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Notes 
 
 ness of night is made blacker " ; and comments : " This wandering 
 away of Helena's thoughts into reverie (for the whole of this sen- 
 tence is spoken to herself, rather than to her hearers) even while 
 she is commenting upon excursive fancies, is, to our thinking, 
 intensely fine and true to human nature, particularly under these 
 special circumstances." 
 
 35. the fine's the crown: — A translation of the common Latin 
 proverb, Finis coronat opus. Of course fine is used in its primitive 
 sense, for end. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 2-4. whose villanous saffron, etc. : — In The Winter's Tale, IV. 
 iii. 47, the Clown says, " I must have saffron to colour the warden 
 pies." From which it appears that in Shakespeare's time saffron 
 was used for colouring pastry. The phrase " unbaked and doughy 
 youth " shows that the same custom is alluded to here. Reference 
 is also had to the coxcombical finery, " the scarfs and the ban- 
 nerets," which this strutting vacuum cuts his dashes in. Yellow 
 was then the prevailing colour in the dress of such as Parolles, 
 whose soul was in their clothes. Various passages might be cited 
 in proof of this. Thus, Sir Philip Sidney has '' saffron-co\ouvt6. 
 coat," and Ben Jonson in one of his songs speaks of " ribands, 
 bells, and saffrond lynnen." The concluding part of Lafeu's de- 
 scription seems to identify red as the colour of a fantastical cox- 
 comb's hose, or the allusion may be to his scarfs. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 Scene L 
 
 25. All's well that ends well: — Herford says : " Helena has been 
 described as a kind of antithesis to Hamlet, in her clear purpose 
 and resolute will ; her quiet intensity and absence of humour asso- 
 ciate her with Isabel, the device which restores her wedded rights, 
 with Mariana. The marks of early date thus attach themselves 
 to scenes which form the very framework of the plot." 
 
 Scene IL 
 
 56. though you are a fool, etc.: — "This is just one of Shake- 
 speare's own touches," says Clarke. " It is not only true to his 
 
 159
 
 Notes ALL'S WELL 
 
 large spirit of toleration for human frailties, that the old noble- 
 man should save the wretch from starving, notwithstanding his 
 strong disgust for his character ; but it is an ingenuity of dramatic 
 art thus to provide that Parolles shall be at hand, when the final 
 scene of the story takes place at Rousillon, to appear among the 
 other personages of the play." * 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 17. richest eyes : — So in As You Like It, IV. i. 23-25 : " To have 
 seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor 
 hands." Those who, having seen the greatest number of fair 
 women, might be said to be the richest in ideas of beauty." 
 
 21, 22. kill all repetition : — That is, the first interview shall put 
 an end to all recollection of the past. 
 
 93-101. In Florence, etc. : — " Here," says Clarke, " is one of 
 Count Bertram's ready falsehoods, which he, with the fluency of 
 an expert liar, pours forth, with self-condemnatory ease. Though 
 he did not know that the ring belonged to Helena, he knew that 
 it was not given to him under the circumstances he describes with 
 so much afifected precision of detail ; and that very throwing from 
 a window, wrapping in paper, and nobleness of the thrower, by 
 which he seeks to give an appearance of verisimilitude to his tale, 
 serves to prove its untruth, and to convict himself of being alto- 
 gether untrue." Johnson remarks that Bertram still has too little 
 virtue to deserve Helena. He did not know it was Helena's ring, 
 but he knew that he had it not from a window. 
 
 313,314. // she, my liege, etc.: — Herford thus dismisses Hel- 
 ena : " The triumph of her love is merely external. She has satis- 
 fied the conditions and her husband consents to take her home; 
 but of the sequel we are left to form what ominous conjecture 
 we may from the perfunctory declaration : — 
 
 ' If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, 
 I '11 love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.' " 
 
 160
 
 THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Questions on 
 
 All s Well that Ends Well. 
 
 1. Was this play probably performed during the Poet's life- 
 time? When do we find the first theatrical notices published? 
 
 2. Comment on the divergencies of style and show what they 
 indicate as to date of composition. 
 
 3. Indicate the differences between the story of Boccaccio, on 
 which the play is founded, and the play itself. What characters 
 are of Shakespeare's creation? 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 4. In how many places in the play are there references to the 
 father of Bertram? What influence upon the dispositions of 
 people does his memory exert? 
 
 5. What relation does Bertram bear to the King? 
 
 6. How does the first view of Helena compare with that of 
 Hamlet? Compare the words of Lafeu (i. 60, 61) with those of 
 the King to Hamlet. How do the Countess and Lafeu mistake 
 the sorrow of Helena? 
 
 7. Compare the Countess's blessing on Bertram (line 66 et seq.) 
 with Polonius's on Laertes. 
 
 8. Characterize the poetic qualities of Helena's soliloquy in 
 Sc. i. 
 
 9. How does Helena describe Parolles as to character and 
 reputation ? 
 
 10. In what spirit does Helena enter upon the discussion of vir- 
 ginity with Parolles? What is the dramatic purpose of this some- 
 what prolonged dialogue? 
 
 11. What qualities does Parolles demonstrate in himself as the 
 discussion turns upon war? 
 
 12. What is the dominant quality of Helena's nature, and where 
 in the first Scene does she exploit it? 
 
 161
 
 Questions ALL 'S WELL 
 
 13. Show how the enveloping action of the drama is indicated 
 in Sc. ii. 
 
 14. What is Shakespeare's comment on the character of the 
 courtier? Comment on Shakespeare's independence of character, 
 considering the fact that he was a playwright favoured at court. 
 
 15. Show the mixture of sweetness and cynicism in the King's 
 speeches. How is the edge taken from the latter quality? 
 
 16. Compare the Clown with Touchstone in As You Like It. 
 What impression does his wit make? 
 
 17. How is the Countess informed of Helena's love for Ber- 
 tram? W^hat impediment does Helena chiefly fear to her union 
 with Bertram? 
 
 18. What does the Countess find in herself to quicken her 
 sympathy with Helena? How does she wring the confession 
 from Helena? 
 
 19. When did Helena determine to go to Paris? How far 
 did her thoughts for the King bear a part in her motives? 
 
 20. Review the first Act and state the causes for the action 
 that are here set forth. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 21. Does the King seem English or French in temper? 
 
 22. In what position is Bertram placed in regard to the wars? 
 
 23. How account for the bantering tone that Lafeu takes with 
 the King? 
 
 24. Explain the Biblical allusions in Helena's speech, i. 137 
 et seq. 
 
 25. Compare lines 154, 155 of this Scene with Act I. Sc. i. 
 226, 227, and comment on the nature of the religious feeling 
 evinced by Helena. 
 
 26. How is Helena willing to stake the chances of the success 
 of her remedy with the King? 
 
 27. Is the sententious quality of the King's speech (line 178 
 et seq.) assisted by the rhyming couplets? 
 
 28. Explain the purpose of the Clown's frequent repetition (Sc. 
 ii.) of the phrase, " O Lord, sir ! " 
 
 29. What is Lafeu's reflection at the opening of Sc. iii.? 
 Wherein resides the humour of Parolles in this dialogue? 
 
 30. How does Shakespeare manage the scene of Helena's choos- 
 ing a husband so as to acquit her of immodesty? What was her 
 motive for asking the First Lord? 
 
 162
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Questions 
 
 31. Is the motive Bertram alleges for denying her probably 
 the true one? How would Ophelia or Viola have taken the re- 
 jection? 
 
 2,2. How does the King give to Helena " social promotion " ? 
 In the light of this play comment on Shakespeare's general aris- 
 tocracy of feeling. 
 
 ZZ' Does Bertram's sudden acquiescence in the King's demand 
 bode ill ? Does one feel that there is in Bertram a mental reserva- 
 tion? 
 
 34. What is the episodic purpose of the scene between Parolles 
 and Lafeu? How does this scene develop the presentation of 
 Parolles? How is he defined by Lafeu? Where is the undoing 
 of Parolles foreshadowed? 
 
 35. What does Bertram determine upon after his marriage? 
 
 36. How do you account (Sc. iv.) for the presence of the Clown 
 at Paris? What message does Parolles bring to Helena? 
 
 ZT. What is Helena's attitude towards Bertram now that she 
 has won him in marriage? 
 
 38. What opinion of Parolles (Sc. v.) does Bertram give 
 Lafeu? Indicate the dramatic purpose of the return of Parolles 
 to the Scene. 
 
 39. What deceit does Bertram practise upon Helena? How 
 might this Scene be marred in the hands of an artist less great 
 than Shakespeare? 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 40. Indicate the position of Sc. i. in the time scheme. 
 
 41. How is Bertram described by the Clown? Indicate the 
 dramatic purpose of the Clown's forswearing of Isbel. 
 
 42. What were the contents of the liters to the Countess and 
 to Helena? 
 
 43. What is the bearing of the Countess under the news brought 
 in the letters? 
 
 44. Indicate the train of thought expressed by Helena. What 
 does she determine upon doing? 
 
 45. In Sc. iii. what rise in the fortunes of Bertram is indicated? 
 
 46. What is the metrical form of Helena's letter? What report 
 does she give out of her intentions? 
 
 47. What is the story of Diana? 
 
 48. Does Helena tell a lie to the Widow of Florence? 
 
 163
 
 Questions ALL 'S WELL 
 
 49. What is the dramatic effect of the Widow's and Diana's 
 pity for the wife of Bertram? 
 
 50. How is the drum episode foreshadowed? 
 
 51. For what purpose is the stratagem put upon Parolles? 
 
 52. How does Parolles answer to the suggestion that the drum 
 be recovered? What leads him to an undertaking for which he 
 has no stomach? 
 
 53. Can you find in your own observation any confirmation of 
 the truth uttered in Sc. vi. 94 et seq.? 
 
 54. Is it to point Bertram's youth that he is made unable to see 
 through Parolles? 
 
 55. What trait of Helena is manifest in Sc. vii.? How does 
 she overcome the scruples of the Widow? 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 56. Explain choughs' language. Where did Shakespeare get his 
 suggestion for this? 
 
 57. Does Parolles know himself to be a coward? Did Falstaff? 
 Did the latter ever confess it to himself? 
 
 58. What is the Second Lord's comment on Parolles? 
 
 59. What things did Parolles meditate to say in accounting for 
 himself on his return to camp? What does he promise after his 
 capture ? 
 
 60. In Sc. ii. Bertram for the first time takes the initiative. 
 Define the importance of this Scene from a dramatic point of 
 view. 
 
 61. How does Diana plead against Bertram's desires? Does 
 Shakespeare allow her own individuality to assert itself? What 
 is the implication in her name? 
 
 62. Give the dramatic significance of the rings. Sc. ii. has 
 what episodic value? 
 
 63. What news did the letter of the Countess contain? When 
 was it delivered to Bertram? What was its effect upon him? 
 
 64. Bearing in mind that this play deals with Frenchmen, with 
 ideals unlike the Anglo-Saxon, what is the point of honour im- 
 plied in the conversation of the two Lords at the opening of 
 Sc. iii.? 
 
 65. What is the dramatic excuse for this conversation? 
 
 66. In what temper of mind does Bertram appear on his en- 
 trance into Sc. iii.? What judgement of Bertram is demanded 
 
 164
 
 THAT ENDS WELL Questions 
 
 of the spectator by the combined impressions derived from this 
 Scene? 
 
 67. What is Bertram's fear when Parolles is brought in for 
 examination ? 
 
 68. Is the humour of this examination equal to that in Measure 
 for Measure, where Lucio tells lies to his face about the Duke of 
 dark corners'? 
 
 69. On what terms is Parolles willing to accept life? What 
 would have supported Falstaff in such an extremity as this of 
 Parolles? 
 
 70. How does Sc. iv. advance the plot? In what temper of 
 mind do we find Helena in this Scene? 
 
 71. Does the wit of the Clown improve in Sc. v.? What 
 thoughts (line 49 et scq.) does he express similar to some of the 
 Porter's in Macbeth ? 
 
 72. Lafeu calls the Clown unhappy, why is he so? Consider 
 the character of Lafeu as indicated by his likes and dislikes of 
 people. 
 
 y2>- What further complication of the plot does the last Scene 
 of Act IV. provide? 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 74. Does Helena ever seem to confess a feminine shrinking 
 from her purposes, or to feel any fatigue that the accomplishment 
 of them imposes? 
 
 75. How does Sc. ii. exhibit the degradation of Parolles? Ex- 
 plain the words to Lafeu, you are the iirst that found me? 
 
 76. Where had Lafeu talk of Parolles, as he says, last night? 
 Has the Countess ever, earlier than in Sc. iii.. when she pleads 
 extenuation of Bertram's faults, shown a similar attitude to- 
 wards him? 
 
 77. What kind of penitence does Bertram show? What does 
 Bertram say of Lafeu's daughter, with whom a marriage is ar- 
 ranged for him? 
 
 78. By whom is the ring first noticed? Can you justify Ber- 
 tram's account of the way he came into possession of it? 
 
 79. How does Bertram meet the accusations of Diana? What 
 quality of his nature is shown in his protest against using the 
 evidence of Parolles against him? 
 
 80. What impression is derived from Diana's quibbling with the 
 King? Is this possibly a part of the earlier form of the play, or 
 
 1^5
 
 Questions 
 
 is her tortuous policy dramatically justified by the nature of the 
 revelations to be made ? • 
 
 8i. Does the conclusion of the play seem sligHted by the dram- 
 atist. Is this abrupt ending contrary to his usual method? 
 
 82. Comment on this view of Hudson : " The play is more apt 
 to inspire an apologetic than an enthusiastic tone of mind." 
 
 83. Mention phrases, ideas, complexions of thought, that ally 
 the play with Hamlet. Does it seem, from internal evidence, to 
 have been written before or after Hamlet? 
 
 84. Herford has said that Helena's love for Bertram seems to 
 spring from something fundamentally irrational in the nature of 
 love itself; does this view account for her unusual conduct? 
 
 85. In how many of Shakespeare's plays do we find the pursuit 
 by the woman of the man? Is this motif legitimatized by modern 
 literature? 
 
 86. In depicting the character of Helena, how does Shake- 
 speare compensate for the absence of many outward circumstances 
 of which she has the advantage in the story of Boccaccio? 
 
 87. Herford further speaks of Helena's " clear and penetrating 
 mind." With such qualities she could have been under no misap- 
 prehension of moral values. How did she meet and solve her 
 problems? 
 
 88. Are the materials of this play essentially dramatic? Would 
 they adapt themselves better to narrative treatment, and if so, 
 why? 
 
 89. What is Shakespeare's attitude towards such young men 
 as Bertram, Claudio in Much Ado About Nothings and Claudio 
 in Measure for Measure? 
 
 90. Swinburne calls Lafeu " one of the best old men in all 
 the range of comic art." Show reasons for his view. 
 
 91. Show the evident dramatic purpose of Parolles and of the 
 Countess. Is motherhood a favourite motif with Shakespeare? 
 
 92. What is Shakespeare's philosophic outlook upon life as 
 evinced by this play? 
 
 166
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA-LOS ANGELES 
 
 L 009 978 306