searcher/tsrc/cpixsearchertest/conf/act3.txt
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+William Shakespeare
+
+All's Well That Ends Well
+     __________________________________________________________________
+
+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 Gentleman
+
+   Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence:
+   We met him thitherward; for thence we came,
+   And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
+   Thither we bend again.
+
+   Helena
+
+   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 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.
+
+   Countess
+
+   Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
+
+   First Gentleman
+
+   Ay, madam;
+   And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain.
+
+   Countess
+
+   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,
+   And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?
+
+   Second Gentleman
+
+   Ay, madam.
+
+   Countess
+
+     And to be a soldier?
+
+   Second Gentleman
+
+   Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't,
+   The duke will lay upon him all the honour
+   That good convenience claims.
+
+   Countess
+
+   Return you thither?
+
+   First Gentleman
+
+   Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
+
+   Helena
+
+   [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.
+   'Tis bitter.
+
+   Countess
+
+     Find you that there?
+
+   Helena
+
+   Ay, madam.
+
+   First Gentleman
+
+   'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not
+   consenting to.
+
+   Countess
+
+   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 Gentleman
+
+   A servant only, and a gentleman
+   Which I have sometime known.
+
+   Countess
+
+   Parolles, was it not?
+
+   First Gentleman
+
+   Ay, my good lady, he.
+
+   Countess
+
+   A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
+   My son corrupts a well-derived nature
+   With his inducement.
+
+   First Gentleman
+
+   Indeed, good lady,
+   The fellow has a deal of that too much,
+   Which holds him much to have.
+
+   Countess
+
+   You're 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'll entreat you
+   Written to bear along.
+
+   Second Gentleman
+
+   We serve you, madam,
+   In that and all your worthiest affairs.
+
+   Countess
+
+   Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
+   Will you draw near!
+
+   Exeunt Countess and Gentlemen
+
+   Helena
+
+   `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
+   That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
+   Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
+   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
+   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,
+   To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
+   For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.
+
+   Exit
+
+SCENE III. 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
+   Upon thy promising fortune.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Sir, it is
+   A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
+   We'll 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!
+
+   Bertram
+
+   This very day,
+   Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
+   Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove
+   A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
+
+   Exeunt
+
+SCENE IV. Rousillon. The Count's palace.
+
+   Enter Countess and Steward
+
+   Countess
+
+   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.
+
+   Steward
+
+   [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
+   His name with zealous fervor 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:
+   He is too good and fair for death and me:
+   Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
+
+   Countess
+
+   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,
+   I could have well diverted her intents,
+   Which thus she hath prevented.
+
+   Steward
+
+   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.
+
+   Countess
+
+   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;
+   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:
+   My heart is heavy and mine age is weak;
+   Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
+
+   Exeunt
+
+SCENE V. Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off.
+
+   Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and Mariana, with
+   other Citizens
+
+   Widow
+
+   Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the
+   sight.
+
+   Diana
+
+   They say the French count has done most honourable service.
+
+   Widow
+
+   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.
+
+   Mariana
+
+   Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves 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.
+
+   Widow
+
+   I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his
+   companion.
+
+   Mariana
+
+   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 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
+   are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is
+   so lost.
+
+   Diana
+
+   You shall not need to fear me.
+
+   Widow
+
+   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'll question her. God save you, pilgrim!
+   whither are you bound?
+
+   Helena
+
+   To Saint Jaques le Grand.
+   Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
+
+   Widow
+
+   At the Saint Francis here beside the port.
+
+   Helena
+
+   Is this the way?
+
+   Widow
+
+   Ay, marry, is't.
+
+   A march afar
+
+   Hark you! they come this way.
+   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.
+
+   Helena
+
+   Is it yourself?
+
+   Widow
+
+   If you shall please so, pilgrim.
+
+   Helena
+
+   I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
+
+   Widow
+
+   You came, I think, from France?
+
+   Helena
+
+   I did so.
+
+   Widow
+
+   Here you shall see a countryman of yours
+   That has done worthy service.
+
+   Helena
+
+   His name, I pray you.
+
+   Diana
+
+   The Count Rousillon: know you such a one?
+
+   Helena
+
+   But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
+   His face I know not.
+
+   Diana
+
+   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?
+
+   Helena
+
+   Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.
+
+   Diana
+
+   There is a gentleman that serves the count
+   Reports but coarsely of her.
+
+   Helena
+
+   What's his name?
+
+   Diana
+
+   Monsieur Parolles.
+
+   Helena
+
+     O, I believe with him,
+   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.
+
+   Diana
+
+   Alas, poor lady!
+   'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
+   Of a detesting lord.
+
+   Widow
+
+   I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
+   Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
+   A shrewd turn, if she pleased.
+
+   Helena
+
+   How do you mean?
+   May be the amorous count solicits her
+   In the unlawful purpose.
+
+   Widow
+
+   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.
+
+   Mariana
+
+   The gods forbid else!
+
+   Widow
+
+   So, now they come:
+
+   Drum and Colours
+
+   Enter Bertram, Parolles, and the whole army
+
+   That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
+   That, Escalus.
+
+   Helena
+
+     Which is the Frenchman?
+
+   Diana
+
+   He;
+   That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.
+   I would he loved his wife: if he were honester
+   He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?
+
+   Helena
+
+   I like him well.
+
+   Diana
+
+   '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.
+
+   Helena
+
+   Which is he?
+
+   Diana
+
+   That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?
+
+   Helena
+
+   Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   Lose our drum! well.
+
+   Mariana
+
+   He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.
+
+   Widow
+
+   Marry, hang you!
+
+   Mariana
+
+   And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!
+
+   Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, and army
+
+   Widow
+
+   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.
+
+   Helena
+
+   I humbly thank you:
+   Please it this matron and this gentle maid
+   To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking
+   Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
+   I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
+   Worthy the note.
+
+   Both
+
+     We'll take your offer kindly.
+
+   Exeunt
+
+SCENE VI. Camp before Florence.
+
+   Enter Bertram and the two French Lords
+
+   Second 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.
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   On my life, my lord, a bubble.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Do you think I am so far deceived in him?
+
+   Second 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-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.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   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 undertake to do.
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly 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 examination: if he do not,
+   for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear,
+   offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power
+   against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath,
+   never trust my judgment 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 success
+   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
+   removed. Here he comes.
+
+   Enter Parolles
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   [Aside to Bertram] O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour
+   of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition.
+
+   First Lord
+
+   A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   `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, and to rend
+   our own soldiers!
+
+   First Lord
+
+   That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a
+   disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had
+   been there to command.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in
+   the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   It might have been recovered.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   It might; but it is not now.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom
+   attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or
+   another, or 'hic jacet.'
+
+   Bertram
+
+   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
+   both speak of it. and extend to you what further becomes his greatness,
+   even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   But you must not now slumber in it.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas,
+   encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal
+   preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?
+
+   Parolles
+
+   I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership,
+   will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
+
+   Parolles
+
+   I love not many words.
+
+   Exit
+
+   Second 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 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.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously
+   he does address himself unto?
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   None in the world; but return with an invention and clap upon you two
+   or three probable 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'll 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.
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Your brother he shall go along with me.
+
+   Second Lord
+
+   As't please your lordship: I'll leave you.
+
+   Exit
+
+   Bertram
+
+   Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
+   The lass I spoke of.
+
+   First Lord
+
+   But you say she's honest.
+
+   Bertram
+
+   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:
+   Will you go see her?
+
+   First Lord
+
+   With all my heart, my lord.
+
+   Exeunt
+
+SCENE VII. Florence. The Widow's house.
+
+   Enter Helena and Widow
+
+   Helena
+
+   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.
+
+   Widow
+
+   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.
+
+   Helena
+
+   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,
+   By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
+   Err in bestowing it.
+
+   Widow
+
+   I should believe you:
+   For you have show'd me that which well approves
+   You're great in fortune.
+
+   Helena
+
+   Take this purse of gold,
+   And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
+   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'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.
+   Now his important blood will nought deny
+   That she'll 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.
+
+   Widow
+
+   Now I see
+   The bottom of your purpose.
+
+   Helena
+
+   You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
+   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'll add three thousand crowns
+   To what is passed already.
+
+   Widow
+
+   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
+   To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us
+   To chide him from our eaves; for he persists
+   As if his life lay on't.
+
+   Helena
+
+   Why then to-night
+   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
+
+   | [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/act4.html
+   3. http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/