FCL/sf/mw/searchsrv: comparison searcher/tsrc/cpixsearchertest/conf/act1.txt

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--1:000000000000
+:671dee74050a
+William Shakespeare
+All's Well That Ends Well
+__________________________________________________________________
+ACT I
+SCENE I. Rousillon. The Count's palace.
+Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in
+black
+Countess
+In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
+Bertram
+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.
+Lafeu
+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 it wanted rather
+than lack it where there is such abundance.
+Countess
+What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?
+Lafeu
+He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practises he hath
+persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process
+but only the losing of hope by time.
+Countess
+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.
+Lafeu
+How called you the man you speak of, madam?
+Countess
+He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be
+so: Gerard de Narbon.
+Lafeu
+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.
+Bertram
+What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?
+Lafeu
+A fistula, my lord.
+Bertram
+I heard not of it before.
+Lafeu
+I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of
+Gerard de Narbon?
+Countess
+His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those
+hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions 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.
+Lafeu
+Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.
+Countess
+'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 have it.
+Helena
+I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.
+Lafeu
+Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the
+enemy to the living.
+Countess
+If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.
+Bertram
+Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
+Lafeu
+How understand we that?
+Countess
+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
+Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend
+Under thy own life's key: be cheque'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.
+Lafeu
+He cannot want the best
+That shall attend his love.
+Countess
+Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram.
+Exit
+Bertram
+[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.
+Lafeu
+Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father.
+Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu
+Helena
+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.
+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 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 trick of his sweet favour:
+But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
+Must sanctify his reliques. 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 fixed evils sit so fit in him,
+That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
+Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
+Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
+Parolles
+Save you, fair queen!
+Helena
+And you, monarch!
+Parolles
+No.
+Helena
+And no.
+Parolles
+Are you meditating on virginity?
+Helena
+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?
+Parolles
+Keep him out.
+Helena
+But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet
+is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.
+Parolles
+There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and
+blow you up.
+Helena
+Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no
+military policy, how virgins might blow up men?
+Parolles
+Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in
+blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your
+city. It is not politic in the commonwealth 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!
+Helena
+I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.
+Parolles
+There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To
+speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is
+most 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. Virginity
+breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes 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 loose 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!
+Helena
+How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?
+Parolles
+Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er 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 unsuitable: just like 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 drily; marry, 'tis a
+withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear:
+will you anything with it?
+Helena
+Not my virginity yet.
+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--
+Parolles
+What one, i' faith?
+Helena
+That I wish well. 'Tis pity--
+Parolles
+What's pity?
+Helena
+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
+Return us thanks.
+Enter Page
+Page
+Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
+Exit
+Parolles
+Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at
+court.
+Helena
+Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.
+Parolles
+Under Mars, I.
+Helena
+I especially think, under Mars.
+Parolles
+Why under Mars?
+Helena
+The wars have so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars.
+Parolles
+When he was predominant.
+Helena
+When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
+Parolles
+Why think you so?
+Helena
+You go so much backward when you fight.
+Parolles
+That's for advantage.
+Helena
+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.
+Parolles
+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. 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
+Helena
+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
+So 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. The King's palace.
+Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters, 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 received 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,
+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.
+Second 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
+First 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 composed thee. Thy father's moral parts
+Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
+Bertram
+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 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
+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
+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.
+Bertram
+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,'--
+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
+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;
+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.
+Second 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,
+Since the physician at your father's died?
+He was much famed.
+Bertram
+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.
+Bertram
+Thank your majesty.
+Exeunt. Flourish
+SCENE III. Rousillon. The Count's palace.
+Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown
+Countess
+I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?
+Steward
+Madam, the care I have had to even your content, 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 deservings, when of ourselves we
+publish them.
+Countess
+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; for
+I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to
+make such knaveries yours.
+Clown
+'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.
+Countess
+Well, sir.
+Clown
+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 may.
+Countess
+Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
+Clown
+I do beg your good will in this case.
+Countess
+In what case?
+Clown
+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.
+Countess
+Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
+Clown
+My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he
+must needs go that the devil drives.
+Countess
+Is this all your worship's reason?
+Clown
+Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons such as they are.
+Countess
+May the world know them?
+Clown
+I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood
+are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent.
+Countess
+Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.
+Clown
+I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's
+sake.
+Countess
+Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
+Clown
+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 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 jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd.
+Countess
+Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?
+Clown
+A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:
+For I the ballad will repeat,
+Which men full true shall find;
+Your marriage comes by destiny,
+Your cuckoo sings by kind.
+Countess
+Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.
+Steward
+May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you: of her I am to
+speak.
+Countess
+Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen, I mean.
+Clown
+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.
+Countess
+What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah.
+Clown
+One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: would
+God would serve the world so all the year! we'ld 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 earthquake,
+'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a'
+pluck one.
+Countess
+You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you.
+Clown
+That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though
+honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the
+surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going,
+forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither.
+Exit
+Countess
+Well, now.
+Steward
+I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.
+Countess
+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'll demand.
+Steward
+Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me: alone
+she was, and did 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; Dian
+no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised,
+without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she
+delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin
+exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal;
+sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to
+know it.
+Countess
+You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many
+likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the
+balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me:
+stall this in your bosom; 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 when 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.
+Helena
+What is your pleasure, madam?
+Countess
+You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
+Helena
+Mine honourable mistress.
+Countess
+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
+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?
+Helena
+That I am not.
+Countess
+I say, I am your mother.
+Helena
+Pardon, madam;
+The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
+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.
+Countess
+Nor I your mother?
+Helena
+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,
+But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
+Countess
+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,
+To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
+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 behaviors
+That in their kind they speak it: only sin
+And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
+That 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,
+Tell me truly.
+Helena
+Good madam, pardon me!
+Countess
+Do you love my son?
+Helena
+Your pardon, noble mistress!
+Countess
+Love you my son?
+Helena
+Do not you love him, madam?
+Countess
+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.
+Helena
+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:
+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
+I still pour in the waters of my love
+And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,
+Religious in mine error, I adore
+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;
+That seeks not to find that her search implies,
+But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies!
+Countess
+Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,--
+To go to Paris?
+Helena
+Madam, I had.
+Countess
+Wherefore? tell true.
+Helena
+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 heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,
+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 render'd lost.
+Countess
+This was your motive
+For Paris, was it? speak.
+Helena
+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.
+Countess
+But think you, Helen,
+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?
+Helena
+There's something in't,
+More than my father's skill, which was the greatest
+Of his profession, that his good receipt
+Shall for my legacy be sanctified
+By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour
+But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture
+The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure
+By such a day and hour.
+Countess
+Dost thou believe't?
+Helena
+Ay, madam, knowingly.
+Countess
+Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,
+Means and attendants and my loving greetings
+To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home
+And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
+Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
+What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.
+Exeunt
+| [1]Table of Contents | [2]Next |
+Last updated on Wed Sep 29 20:06:20 2004 for [3]eBooks@Adelaide.
+References
+1. file://localhost/home/arau/shakespeare/allswell/index.html
+2. file://localhost/home/arau/shakespeare/allswell/act2.html
+3. http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/