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All's Well that Ends Well.

Persons Represented.

KING OF FRANCE.
DUKE OF FLORENCE.
BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.
LAFEU, an old Lord.

PAROLLES, a Follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords, that
serve with Bertram in the Floren-
tine War.

Steward, Servants to the Countess
Cloun,
of Rousillon.

A Page.

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram.

HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected
by the Countess.

An old Widow of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA, Neighbours and
MARIANA, Friends to the Widow.
Lords, altending on the King;
Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and
Florentine.

SCENE.-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

Act First.

SCENE I. ROUSILLON. A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second 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, evermore 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 neces; sity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? 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 skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! 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 Narbon.

Laf. He was 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. -Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. Hissole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises her dispositions she inherits, which make 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, get from her tears.

Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can season her 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, 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 birth-right! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
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.

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That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. [Exit Countess. Ber. [To Helena.] The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.

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 it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were 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
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick1 of his sweet favour;
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relicks. Who comes here?
Enter Parolles.

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
Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

Par. Save you, fair queen.

Hel. And you, monàrch.-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,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious 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,
faith?

Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't,

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 a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page. 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. Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

1 Peculiarity of feature.

2 Countenance.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather

Par. Why think you so?

H. You go so much backward, when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.

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 like 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 counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away farewell. 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,
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.

SCENE II.--PARIS. A ROOM IN THE KING'S PALACE.

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters; Lords and others attending.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; Having fought with equal fortune, and continue

A braving war.

1 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.

1 Lord.

His love and wisdom,

Approv'd 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.

2 Lord.

It may well serve

A nursery to our gentry, who are sick

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What's he comes here?

For breathing and exploit.

King.

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

1 Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,

Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My 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 try'd 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,
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 awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He us'd 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;

So in approof lives not his epitaph,

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,—

Thus his good melancholy oft began,

On the catastrophe and heel of Pastime,
When it was out,-let me not live, quoth he,
After my frame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions:-This he wish'd:
1, after him, do after him wish too,

1 Approbation.

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