Alls Wel that ends Well Read online

  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 3.

  The Florentine camp

  Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS

  SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter?

  FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something

  in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd

  almost into another man.

  SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off

  so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

  FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure

  of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to

  him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly

  with you.

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

  of it.

  FIRST 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.

  SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves,

  what things are we!

  FIRST 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 abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives

  against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows

  himself.

  SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our

  unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

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

  SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his

  company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own

  judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

  FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his

  presence must be the whip of the other.

  SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

  FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace.

  SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

  FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel

  higher, or return again into France?

  SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether

  of his counsel.

  FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal

  of his act.

  SECOND 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

  accomplish'd; 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.

  FIRST LORD. How is this justified?

  SECOND 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 confirm'd by the rector of the place.

  FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

  SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from

  point, to the full arming of the verity.

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

  SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our

  losses!

  FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in

  tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for

  him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample.

  SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

  together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them

  not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd 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 dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's

  length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the

  Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd for

  her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd 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 has

  deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier.

  SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th'

  stocks all night, poor gallant knave.

  BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd 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 confess'd 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' th'

  stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd?

  BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a?

&
nbsp; 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 as interpreter

  BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me.

  SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa.

  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.

  SECOND 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. '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!

  SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, 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 practice in the

  chape of his dagger.

  FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword

  clean; nor believe he can have everything 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.

  SECOND 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. '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 fifty each; mine own

  company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred 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 the

  snow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves to

  pieces.

  BERTRAM. What shall be done to him?

  SECOND 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. 'You shall demand of him

  whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what his

  reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, expertness

  in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with

  well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a 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 whipt 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.

  SECOND 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' th' 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.

  SECOND LORD. Excellently.

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

  gold.'

  PAROLLES. That is not the Duke's letter, sir; that is an

  advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take

  heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle

  boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up

  again.

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

  PAROLLES. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf

  of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and

  lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all

  the fry it finds.

  BERTRAM. Damnable both-sides rogue!

  FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads]

  'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it;

  After he scores, he never pays the score.

  Half won is match well made; match, and well make it;

  He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before.

  And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this:

  Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss;

  For count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it,

  Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.

  Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear,

  PAROLLES.'

  BERTRAM. He shall be whipt through the army with this rhyme in's

  forehead.

  FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold

  linguist, and the amnipotent soldier.

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

  cat to me.

  FIRST SOLDIER. I perceive, sir, by our General's looks we shall be

  fain to hang you.

  PAROLLES. My life, sir, in any case! Not that I am afraid to die,

  but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the

  remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' th'

  stocks, or anywhere, so I may live.

  FIRST SOLDIER. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely;

  therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answer'd 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 bedclothes about

  him; but they kno
w his conditions and lay him in straw. I have

  but little more to say, sir, of his honesty. He has everything

  that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should

  have he has nothing.

  SECOND LORD. I begin to love him for this.

  BERTRAM. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For

  me, he's more and more a cat.

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

  PAROLLES. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English

  tragedians-to belie him I will not-and more of his soldier-ship

  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.

  SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarity

  redeems him.

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

  FIRST SOLDIER. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not

  to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

  PAROLLES. Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his

  salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all

  remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

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

  FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me?

  FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?

  PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' 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 discover'd 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, of with his head.