searcher/tsrc/cpixsearchertest/conf/act4.txt
author Dremov Kirill (Nokia-D-MSW/Tampere) <kirill.dremov@nokia.com>
Thu, 27 May 2010 13:59:44 +0300
changeset 3 ae3f1779f6da
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Revision: 201019 Kit: 2010121

William Shakespeare

All's Well That Ends Well
     __________________________________________________________________

ACT IV

SCENE I. Without the Florentine camp.

   Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other Soldiers in ambush

   Second Lord

   He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon
   him, speak what terrible language you will: though you understand it
   not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him,
   unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter.

   First Soldier

   Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

   Second Lord

   Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

   First Soldier

   No, sir, I warrant you.

   Second Lord

   But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?

   First Soldier

   E'en such as you speak to me.

   Second Lord

   He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's
   entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages;
   therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what
   we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our
   purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you,
   interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes,
   to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies
   he forges.

   Enter Parolles

   Parolles

   Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home.
   What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that
   carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked
   too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart
   hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the
   reports of my tongue.

   Second Lord

   This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of.

   Parolles

   What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum,
   being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such
   purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit:
   yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, `Came you off with so
   little?' and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the
   instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth and buy
   myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

   Second Lord

   Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?

   Parolles

   I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the
   breaking of my Spanish sword.

   Second Lord

   We cannot afford you so.

   Parolles

   Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.

   Second Lord

   'Twould not do.

   Parolles

   Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

   Second Lord

   Hardly serve.

   Parolles

   Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel.

   Second Lord

   How deep?

   Parolles

   Thirty fathom.

   Second Lord

   Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

   Parolles

   I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear I recovered it.

   Second Lord

   You shall hear one anon.

   Parolles

   A drum now of the enemy's,--

   Alarum within

   Second Lord

   Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

   All

   Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.

   Parolles

   O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes.

   They seize and blindfold him

   First Soldier

   Boskos thromuldo boskos.

   Parolles

   I know you are the Muskos' regiment:
   And I shall lose my life for want of language;
   If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
   Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll
   Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

   First Soldier

   Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely
   bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy
   bosom.

   Parolles

   O!

   First Soldier

   O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.

   Second Lord

   Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

   First Soldier

   The general is content to spare thee yet;
   And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
   To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform
   Something to save thy life.

   Parolles

   O, let me live!
   And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,
   Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that
   Which you will wonder at.

   First Soldier

   But wilt thou faithfully?

   Parolles

   If I do not, damn me.

   First Soldier

   Acordo linta.
   Come on; thou art granted space.

   Exit, with Parolles guarded. A short alarum within

   Second Lord

   Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,
   We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled
   Till we do hear from them.

   Second Soldier

   Captain, I will.

   Second Lord

   A' will betray us all unto ourselves:
   Inform on that.

   Second Soldier

     So I will, sir.

   Second Lord

   Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd.

   Exeunt

SCENE II. Florence. The Widow's house.

   Enter Bertram and Diana

   Bertram

   They told me that your name was Fontibell.

   Diana

   No, my good lord, Diana.

   Bertram

   Titled goddess;
   And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,
   In your fine frame hath love no quality?
   If quick fire of youth light not your mind,
   You are no maiden, but a monument:
   When you are dead, you should be such a one
   As you are now, for you are cold and stem;
   And now you should be as your mother was
   When your sweet self was got.

   Diana

   She then was honest.

   Bertram

   So should you be.

   Diana

   No:
   My mother did but duty; such, my lord,
   As you owe to your wife.

   Bertram

   No more o' that;
   I prithee, do not strive against my vows:
   I was compell'd to her; but I love thee
   By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
   Do thee all rights of service.

   Diana

   Ay, so you serve us
   Till we serve you; but when you have our roses,
   You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves
   And mock us with our bareness.

   Bertram

   How have I sworn!

   Diana

   'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,
   But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.
   What is not holy, that we swear not by,
   But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me,
   If I should swear by God's great attributes,
   I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
   When I did love you ill? This has no holding,
   To swear by him whom I protest to love,
   That I will work against him: therefore your oaths
   Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd,
   At least in my opinion.

   Bertram

   Change it, change it;
   Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy;
   And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts
   That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,
   But give thyself unto my sick desires,
   Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever
   My love as it begins shall so persever.

   Diana

   I see that men make ropes in such a scarre
   That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

   Bertram

   I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power
   To give it from me.

   Diana

   Will you not, my lord?

   Bertram

   It is an honour 'longing to our house,
   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
   In me to lose.

   Diana

     Mine honour's such a ring:
   My chastity's the jewel of our house,
   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
   In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom
   Brings in the champion Honour on my part,
   Against your vain assault.

   Bertram

   Here, take my ring:
   My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,
   And I'll be bid by thee.

   Diana

   When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window:
   I'll order take my mother shall not hear.
   Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
   When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
   Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:
   My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them
   When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:
   And on your finger in the night I'll put
   Another ring, that what in time proceeds
   May token to the future our past deeds.
   Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won
   A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

   Bertram

   A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

   Exit

   Diana

   For which live long to thank both heaven and me!
   You may so in the end.
   My mother told me just how he would woo,
   As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men
   Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me
   When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him
   When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
   Marry that will, I live and die a maid:
   Only in this disguise I think't no sin
   To cozen him that would unjustly win.

   Exit

SCENE III. The Florentine camp.

   Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers

   First Lord

   You have not given him his mother's letter?

   Second Lord

   I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in't that stings
   his nature; for on the reading it he changed almost into another man.

   First Lord

   He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife
   and so sweet a lady.

   Second Lord

   Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king,
   who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you
   a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

   First Lord

   When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

   Second Lord

   He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most
   chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her
   honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made
   in the unchaste composition.

   First Lord

   Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, what things are we!

   Second Lord

   Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons,
   we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred
   ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in
   his proper stream o'erflows himself.

   First Lord

   Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful
   intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

   Second Lord

   Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

   First Lord

   That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see his company
   anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein
   so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

   Second Lord

   We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the
   whip of the other.

   First Lord

   In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

   Second Lord

   I hear there is an overture of peace.

   First Lord

   Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

   Second Lord

   What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return
   again into France?

   First Lord

   I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.

   Second Lord

   Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act.

   First Lord

   Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house: her pretence
   is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with
   most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the
   tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a
   groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

   Second Lord

   How is this justified?

   First Lord

   The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true,
   even to the point of her death: her death itself, which could not be
   her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of
   the place.

   Second Lord

   Hath the count all this intelligence?

   First Lord

   Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, so to the full
   arming of the verity.

   Second Lord

   I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

   First Lord

   How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

   Second Lord

   And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great
   dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be
   encountered with a shame as ample.

   First Lord

   The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our
   virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes
   would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.

   Enter a Messenger

   How now! where's your master?

   Servant

   He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn
   leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered
   him letters of commendations to the king.

   Second Lord

   They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they
   can commend.

   First Lord

   They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship
   now.

   Enter Bertram

   How now, my lord! is't not after midnight?

   Bertram

   I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a month's length
   a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congied with the duke, done
   my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my
   lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and between these
   main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs; the last was the
   greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

   Second Lord

   If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure
   hence, it requires haste of your lordship.

   Bertram

   I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter.
   But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come,
   bring forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived me, like a
   double-meaning prophesier.

   Second Lord

   Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

   Bertram

   No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long.
   How does he carry himself?

   Second Lord

   I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry him. But to answer
   you as you would be understood; he weeps like a wench that had shed her
   milk: he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a
   friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster
   of his setting i' the stocks: and what think you he hath confessed?

   Bertram

   Nothing of me, has a'?

   Second Lord

   His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face: if your
   lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to
   hear it.

   Enter Parolles guarded, and First Soldier

   Bertram

   A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me: hush, hush!

   First Lord

   Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa

   First Soldier

   He calls for the tortures: what will you say without 'em?

   Parolles

   I will confess what I know without constraint: if ye pinch me like a
   pasty, I can say no more.

   First Soldier

   Bosko chimurcho.

   First Lord

   Boblibindo chicurmurco.

   First Soldier

   You are a merciful general. Our general bids you answer to what I shall
   ask you out of a note.

   Parolles

   And truly, as I hope to live.

   First Soldier

   [Reads] `First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong.' What
   say you to that?

   Parolles

   Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are
   all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation
   and credit and as I hope to live.

   First Soldier

   Shall I set down your answer so?

   Parolles

   Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will.

   Bertram

   All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this!

   First Lord

   You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant
   militarist,--that was his own phrase,--that had the whole theoric of
   war in the knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of his
   dagger.

   Second Lord

   I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean. nor believe
   he can have every thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly.

   First Soldier

   Well, that's set down.

   Parolles

   Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say true,--or thereabouts,
   set down, for I'll speak truth.

   First Lord

   He's very near the truth in this.

   Bertram

   But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers it.

   Parolles

   Poor rogues, I pray you, say.

   First Soldier

   Well, that's set down.

   Parolles

   I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous
   poor.

   First Soldier

   [Reads] `Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot.' What say you
   to that?

   Parolles

   By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell
   true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many;
   Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and
   Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher,
   Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file,
   rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll;
   half of the which dare not shake snow from off their cassocks, lest
   they shake themselves to pieces.

   Bertram

   What shall be done to him?

   First Lord

   Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my condition, and what
   credit I have with the duke.

   First Soldier

   Well, that's set down.

   [Reads] `You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' the
   camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the duke; what his
   valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were
   not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to
   revolt.' What say you to this? what do you know of it?

   Parolles

   I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories:
   demand them singly.

   First Soldier

   Do you know this Captain Dumain?

   Parolles

   I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was
   whipped for getting the shrieve's fool with child,--a dumb innocent,
   that could not say him nay.

   Bertram

   Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are
   forfeit to the next tile that falls.

   First Soldier

   Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp?

   Parolles

   Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.

   First Lord

   Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon.

   First Soldier

   What is his reputation with the duke?

   Parolles

   The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to
   me this other day to turn him out o' the band: I think I have his
   letter in my pocket.

   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 vowed to thee in thine ear,
   Parolles.'

   Bertram

   He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in's forehead.

   Second Lord

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

   Bertram

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

   First Soldier

   I perceive, sir, by the 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 any where, 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 'em
   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 bed-clothes 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
   every thing 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, he 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-villained villany 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 be 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 Lord

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

   Unblinding 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'ld
   compel it of you: but fare you well.

   Exeunt Bertram and Lords

   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 with Soldiers

   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 IV. Florence. 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 inform'd
   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 wagon is prepared, 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 V. Rousillon. The Count's palace.

   Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown

   Lafeu

   No, no, no, your 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-tailed 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 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 fisnomy 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's 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 flowery way that leads to the broad gate
   and the great fire.

   Lafeu

   Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary 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't 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

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References

   1. file://localhost/home/arau/shakespeare/allswell/index.html
   2. file://localhost/home/arau/shakespeare/allswell/act5.html
   3. http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/