All’s Well That Ends Well
ACT IV 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 | 5 |
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. | 10 | |
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 | 15 | |
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 | 20 |
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 | 25 |
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 | 30 | |
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? | 35 |
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 | 40 |
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 | 45 | |
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. | 50 | |
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 | 55 | |
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. | 60 |
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. | 65 | |
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? | 70 | |
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 | 75 |
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 | 80 |
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 | 85 | |
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. | 90 | |
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. | 95 | |
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 | 100 |
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 | 105 | |
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. | 110 | |
[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? | 115 | |
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 | 120 |
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 | 125 |
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. | 130 |
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 | 135 | |
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. | 140 |
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. | 145 | |
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 | 150 |
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, | 155 | |
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 | 160 | |
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. | 165 |
[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 | 170 | |
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? | 175 |
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 | 180 |
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. | 185 | |
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. | 190 |
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. | 195 |
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 | 200 | |
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 | 205 |
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; | 210 |
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: | 215 | |
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 | 220 |
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. | 225 | |
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, | 230 | |
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? | 235 | |
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 | 240 | |
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 | 245 | |
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. | 250 | |
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 | 255 | |
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. | 260 | |
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 | 265 | |
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? | 270 |
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 | 275 | |
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. | 280 |
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? | 285 | |
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 | 290 | |
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. | 295 |
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 | 300 |
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 | 305 | |
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. | 310 | |
[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, | 315 | |
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. | 320 | |
I’ll after them. | ||
[Exit] |
Next: All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 4, Scene 4