All’s Well That Ends Well

at my hand; but we must do good against evil. Exit. Parolles An idle lord. I swear. Bertram I think so. Parolles Why, do you not know him? Bertram

Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

Enter Helena. Helena

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.

Bertram

I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
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 our 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
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.

Helena

Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.

Bertram Come, come, no more of that. Helena

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.

Bertram

Let that go:
My haste is very great: farewell; hie home.

Helena Pray, sir, your pardon. Bertram Well, what would you say? Helena

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.

Bertram What would you have? Helena

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.

Bertram I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. Helena I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. Bertram

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.

Parolles Bravely, coragio! Exeunt.

Act III

Scene I

Florence. The Duke’s palace.

	Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence attended; the two Frenchmen, with 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.
Second Lord	Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion: therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my 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 Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell: To-morrow to the field. Flourish. Exeunt.

Scene II

Rousillon. The Count’s palace.

	Enter Countess and Clown.
Countess	It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.
Clown	By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.
Countess	By what observance, I pray you?
Clown	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.
Countess	Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. Opening a letter.
Clown	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.
Countess	What have we here?
Clown	E’en that you have there. Exit.
Countess	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. 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. 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 Clown.
Clown	O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady!
Countess	What is the matter?
Clown	Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
Countess	Why should he be killed?
Clown	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 two Gentlemen.
First Gentleman	Save you, good madam.
Helena	Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
Second Gentleman	Do not say so.
Countess	Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, 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?
Second