FIRST SOLDIER.
Marry, we'll search.

PAROLLES.
In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it is upon
a file, with the duke's other letters, in my tent.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you?

PAROLLES.
I do not know if it be it or no.

BERTRAM.
Our interpreter does it well.

FIRST LORD.
Excellently.

FIRST SOLDIER.
[Reads.] 'Dian, the Count's a fool, and full of gold,--'

PAROLLES.
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 SOLDIER.
Nay, I'll read it first by your favour.

PAROLLES.
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.

BERTRAM.
Damnable! both sides rogue!

FIRST SOLDIER.
[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;
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 vow'd to thee in thine ear,
                                     PAROLLES.

BERTRAM.
He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in his
forehead.

SECOND LORD.
This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the
armipotent soldier.

BERTRAM.
I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a cat to
me.

FIRST SOLDIER.
I perceive, sir, by our general's looks we shall be fain to hang
you.

PAROLLES.
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
anywhere, so I may live.

FIRST SOLDIER.
We'll see what may be done, so you 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?

PAROLLES.
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 them 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 he will be swine-drunk;
and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes
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
everything 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.

BERTRAM.
For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me;
he's more and more a cat.

FIRST SOLDIER.
What say you to his expertness in war?

PAROLLES.
Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English tragedians,--to
belie 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-villanied villainy so far that the rarity redeems
him.

BERTRAM.
A pox on him! he's a cat still.

FIRST SOLDIER.
His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if
gold will corrupt him to revolt.

PAROLLES.
Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his
salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all
remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

FIRST SOLDIER.
What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

SECOND LORD.
Why does he ask him of me?

FIRST SOLDIER.
What's he?

PAROLLES.
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 SOLDIER.
If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the
Florentine?

PAROLLES.
Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon.

FIRST SOLDIER.
I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.

PAROLLES.
[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 SOLDIER.
There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says you
that have so traitorously 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.

PAROLLES.
O Lord! sir, let me live, or let me see my death.

FIRST SOLDIER.
That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.

[Unmuffling him.]

So look about you; know you any here?

BERTRAM.
Good morrow, noble captain.

SECOND LORD.
God bless you, Captain Parolles.

FIRST LORD.
God save you, noble captain.

SECOND 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'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

[Exeunt BERTRAM, Lords, &c.]

FIRST SOLDIER.
You are undone, captain: all but your scarf; that has a knot on't
yet.

PAROLLES.
Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

FIRST SOLDIER.
If you could find out a country where but 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.]

PAROLLES.
Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll 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
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'll after them.

[Exit.]



SCENE 4.  Florence. A room in the Widow's house.

[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA.]

HELENA.
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 informed
His grace is at Marseilles; to which place
We have convenient convoy. You must know
I am supposed dead: the army breaking,
My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding,
And by the leave of my good lord the king,
We'll be before our welcome.

WIDOW.
Gentle madam,
You never had a servant to whose trust
Your business was more welcome.

HELENA.
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
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.

DIANA.
Let death and honesty
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.

HELENA.
Yet, I pray you:
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 prepar'd, 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.]



SCENE 5.  Rousillon. A room in the COUNTESS'S palace.

[Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN.]

LAFEU.
No, no, no, 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-tail'd humble-bee I speak
of.

COUNTESS.
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 partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a
mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.

LAFEU.
'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand
salads ere we light on such another herb.

CLOWN.
Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or,
rather, the herb of grace.

LAFEU.
They are not salad-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.

CLOWN.
I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in
grass.

LAFEU.
Whether dost thou profess thyself,--a knave or a fool?

CLOWN.
A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.

LAFEU.
Your distinction?

CLOWN.
I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.

LAFEU.
So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

CLOWN.
And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.

LAFEU.
I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool.

CLOWN.
At your service.

LAFEU.
No, no, no.

CLOWN.
Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a
prince as you are.

LAFEU.
Who's that? a Frenchman?

CLOWN.
Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his phisnomy is more
hotter in France than there.

LAFEU.
What prince is that?

CLOWN.
The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias,
the devil.

LAFEU.
Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest
thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still.

CLOWN.
I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire;
and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he
is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in his 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'll be for the
flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

LAFEU.
Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee
so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways;
let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.

CLOWN.
If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks,
which are their own right by the law of nature.

[Exit.]

LAFEU.
A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.

COUNTESS.
So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him;
by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for
his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will.

LAFEU.
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 your ladyship like it?

COUNTESS.
With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected.

LAFEU.
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.

COUNTESS.
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 remain with me till they meet together.

LAFEU.
Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be
admitted.

COUNTESS.
You need but plead your honourable privilege.

LAFEU.
Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my
God, it holds yet.

[Re-enter CLOWN.]

CLOWN.
O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet
on's face; whether there be a scar under it or no, the velvet
knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a
cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

LAFEU.
A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so
belike is that.

CLOWN.
But it is your carbonadoed face.

LAFEU.
Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young
noble soldier.

CLOWN.
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 V.

SCENE 1.  Marseilles. A street.

[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants.]

HELENA.
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,
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.

GENTLEMAN.
And you.

HELENA.
Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

GENTLEMAN.
I have been sometimes there.

HELENA.
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.

GENTLEMAN.
What's your will?

HELENA.
That it will please you
To give this poor petition to the king;
And aid me with that store of power you have
To come into his presence.

GENTLEMAN.
The king's not here.

HELENA.
Not here, sir?

GENTLEMAN.
Not indeed.
He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste
Than is his use.

WIDOW.
Lord, how we lose our pains!

HELENA.
All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

GENTLEMAN.
Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.

HELENA.
I do beseech you, sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
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.

GENTLEMAN.
This I'll do for you.

HELENA.
And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
Whate'er falls more.--We must to horse again;--
Go, go, provide.

[Exeunt.]



SCENE 2.  Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNTESS'S palace.

[Enter CLOWN and PAROLLES.]

PAROLLES.
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 somewhat strong of her strong
displeasure.

CLOWN.
Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell
so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will henceforth eat no fish
of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

PAROLLES.
Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a
metaphor.

CLOWN.
Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or
against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.

PAROLLES.
Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

CLOWN.
Foh, pr'ythee stand away. A paper from Fortune's close-stool
to give to a nobleman! Look here he comes himself.

[Enter LAFEU.]

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's 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, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress
in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

[Exit.]

PAROLLES.
My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

LAFEU.
And what would you have me to do? 'tis 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.

PAROLLES.
I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

LAFEU.
You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't: save your
word.

PAROLLES.
My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

LAFEU.
You beg more than word then.--Cox' my passion! give me your
hand:--how does your drum?

PAROLLES.
O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

LAFEU.
Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

PAROLLES.
It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for
you did bring me out.

LAFEU.
Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the
office of God and the devil? one brings the in grace, and the
other brings thee out.

[Trumpets sound.]

The king's coming; 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.

PAROLLES.
I praise God for you.

[Exeunt.]



SCENE 3.  The same. A room in the COUNTESS'S palace.

[Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards,
&c.]

KING.
We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

COUNTESS.
'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 burns on.

KING.
My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.

LAFEU.
This I must say,--
But first, I beg my pardon,--the young lord
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 reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition:--let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
Th' incensing relics of it; let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

GENTLEMAN.
I shall, my liege.

[Exit Gentleman.]

KING.
What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?

LAFEU.
All that he is hath reference to your highness.

KING.
Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
That sets him high in fame.

[Enter BERTRAM.]

LAFEU.
He looks well on 't.

KING.
I am not a day of season,
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
The time is fair again.

BERTRAM.
My high-repented blames,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

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

BERTRAM.
Admiringly, my liege: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold 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;
Scorned a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object: thence it came
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

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

COUNTESS.
Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!

LAFEU.
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 to Lafeu.]

By my old beard,
And every hair that's on 't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.

BERTRAM.
Hers it was not.

KING.
Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to it.--
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?

BERTRAM.
My gracious sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.

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

LAFEU.
I am sure I saw her wear it.

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

KING.
Plutus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety
That she would never put it from her finger
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,--
Where you have never come,--or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

BERTRAM.
She never saw it.

KING.
Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so:--
And yet I know not:--thou didst hate her deadly.
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe
More than to see this ring.--Take him away.

[Guards seize BERTRAM.]

My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.--Away with him;--
We'll sift this matter further.

BERTRAM.
If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where she yet never was.

[Exit, guarded.]

KING.
I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.

[Enter a Gentleman.]

GENTLEMAN.
Gracious sovereign,
Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

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

LAFEU.
I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll this: I'll none of
him.

KING.
The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,
To bring forth this discovery.--Seek these suitors:--
Go speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt  Gentleman, and some Attendants.]

I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.

COUNTESS.
Now, justice on the doers!

[Enter BERTRAM, guarded.]

KING.
I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you.
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.--What woman's that?

[Re-enter Widow and DIANA.]

DIANA.
I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

WIDOW.
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?

BERTRAM.
My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them: do they charge me further?

DIANA.
Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

BERTRAM.
She's none of mine, my lord.

DIANA.
If you shall marry,
You give away this hand, and that is mine;
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.

LAFEU.
[To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short for
my daughter; you are no husband for her.

BERTRAM.
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
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!

DIANA.
Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.

KING.
What say'st thou to her?

BERTRAM.
She's impudent, my lord;
And was a common gamester to the camp.

DIANA.
He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

COUNTESS.
He blushes, and 'tis it:
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife;
That ring's a thousand proofs.

KING.
Methought you said
You saw one here in court could witness it.

DIANA.
I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles.

LAFEU.
I saw the man to-day, if man he be.

KING.
Find him, and bring him hither.

[Exit an Attendant.]

BERTRAM.
What of him?
He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debauch'd:
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth:
Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
That will speak anything?

KING.
She hath that ring of yours.

BERTRAM.
I think she has: certain it is I lik'd her,
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Her infinite cunning with her modern grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had that which any inferior might
At market-price have bought.

DIANA.
I must be patient:
You that have turn'd off a first so noble wife
May justly diet me. 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.

BERTRAM.
I have it not.

KING.
What ring was yours, I pray you?

DIANA.
Sir, much like
The same upon your finger.

KING.
Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.

DIANA.
And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.

KING.
The story, then, goes false you threw it him
Out of a casement.

DIANA.
I have spoke the truth.

BERTRAM.
My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.

KING.
You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you.--

[Re-enter Attendant, with PAROLLES.]

Is this the man you speak of?

DIANA.
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'll keep off,--
By him and by this woman here what know you?

PAROLLES.
So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable
gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

KING.
Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?

PAROLLES.
Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?

KING.
How, I pray you?

PAROLLES.
He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.

KING.
How is that?

PAROLLES.
He loved her, sir, and loved her not.

KING.
As thou art a knave and no knave.--
What an equivocal companion is this!

PAROLLES.
I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.

LAFEU.
He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.

DIANA.
Do you know he promised me marriage?

PAROLLES.
Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

KING.
But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st?

PAROLLES.
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
know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time
that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as
promising her marriage, 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?

DIANA.
Ay, my good lord.

KING.
Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?

DIANA.
It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

KING.
Who lent it you?

DIANA.
It was not lent me neither.

KING.
Where did you find it then?

DIANA.
I found it not.

KING.
If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him?

DIANA.
I never gave it him.

LAFEU.
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.

DIANA.
It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.

KING.
Take her away, I do not like her now;
To prison with her: and away with him.--
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.

DIANA.
I'll never tell you.

KING.
Take her away.

DIANA.
I'll put in bail, my liege.

KING.
I think thee now some common customer.

DIANA.
By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.

KING.
Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while?

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

[Pointing to LAFEU.]

KING.
She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.

DIANA.
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 abus'd me as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd;
And at that time he got his wife with child.
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick;
So there's my riddle:--One that's dead is quick;
And now behold the meaning.

[Re-enter Widow with HELENA.]

KING.
Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
Is't real that I see?

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

BERTRAM.
Both, both; O, pardon!

HELENA.
O, my good lord, when I was like this maid;
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring,
And, look you, here's your letter. This it says,
'When from my finger you can get this ring,
And are by me with child, &c.'-- This is done:
Will you be mine now you are doubly won?

BERTRAM.
If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

HELENA.
If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you!--
O my dear mother, do I see you living?

LAFEU.
Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon:--
Good Tom Drum [to PAROLLES], lend me a handkercher: so, I
thank thee; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

KING.
Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow:--
If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower,

[To DIANA.]

Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For I can guess that, by thy honest aid,
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
Of that and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

[Flourish.]

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

[Exeunt.]

THE END