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All's Well
That Ends Well
  • Last scene
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  • Complete play
  • ACT V SCENE III

    
     Dramatis Personae 
     Act I   Scene I 
     Act I   Scene II 
     Act I   Scene III 
     Act II  Scene I 
     Act II  Scene II 
     Act II  Scene III 
     Act II  Scene IV 
     Act II  Scene V 
     Act III Scene I 
     Act III Scene II 
     Act III Scene III 
     Act III Scene IV 
    
    
     Act III Scene V 
     Act III Scene VI 
     Act III Scene VII 
     Act IV  Scene I  
     Act IV  Scene II 
     Act IV  Scene III 
     Act IV  Scene IV 
     Act IV  Scene V 
     Act V   Scene I 
     Act V   Scene II 
     Act V   Scene III 
     Epilogue 
     Complete play
    


     Act V 

    
    ACT V: SCENE III	Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

    
    	Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two
    	French Lords, with Attendants
    
    KING	We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
    	Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
    	As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
    	Her estimation home.
    
    COUNTESS	'Tis past, my liege;
    	And I beseech your majesty to make it
    	Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
    	When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
    	O'erbears it and burns on.
    
    KING	My honour'd lady,
    	I have forgiven and forgotten all;
    	Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
    	And watch'd the time to shoot.
    
    LAFEU	This I must say,
    	But first I beg my pardon, the young lord
    	Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady
    	Offence of mighty note; but to himself
    	The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
    	Whose beauty did astonish the survey
    	Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
    	Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
    	Humbly call'd mistress.
    
    KING	Praising what is lost
    	Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;
    	We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
    	All repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
    	The nature of his great offence is dead,
    	And deeper than oblivion we do bury
    	The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
    	A stranger, no offender; and inform him
    	So 'tis our will he should.
    
    Gentleman	I shall, my liege.
    
    	Exit
    
    KING	What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?
    
    LAFEU	All that he is hath reference to your highness.
    
    KING	Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
    	That set him high in fame.
    
    	Enter BERTRAM
    
    LAFEU	He looks well on't.
    
    KING	I am not a day of season,
    	For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
    	In me at once: but to the brightest beams
    	Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
    	The time is fair again.
    
    BERTRAM	My high-repented blames,
    	Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
    
    KING	All is whole;
    	Not one word more of the consumed time.
    	Let's take the instant by the forward top;
    	For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
    	The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
    	Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
    	The daughter of this lord?
    
    BERTRAM	Admiringly, my liege, at first
    	I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
    	Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue
    	Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
    	Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
    	Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
    	Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
    	Extended or contracted all proportions
    	To a most hideous object: thence it came
    	That she whom all men praised and whom myself,
    	Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
    	The dust that did offend it.
    
    KING	Well excused:
    	That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
    	From the great compt: but love that comes too late,
    	Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
    	To the great sender turns a sour offence,
    	Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults
    	Make trivial price of serious things we have,
    	Not knowing them until we know their grave:
    	Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
    	Destroy our friends and after weep their dust
    	Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
    	While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon.
    	Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
    	Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
    	The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
    	To see our widower's second marriage-day.
    
    COUNTESS	Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!
    	Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!
    
    LAFEU	Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
    	Must be digested, give a favour from you
    	To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
    	That she may quickly come.
    
    	BERTRAM gives a ring
    
    		     By my old beard,
    	And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
    	Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
    	The last that e'er I took her at court,
    	I saw upon her finger.
    
    BERTRAM	Hers it was not.
    
    KING	Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
    	While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.
    	This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
    	I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
    	Necessitied to help, that by this token
    	I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave
    	her
    	Of what should stead her most?
    
    BERTRAM	My gracious sovereign,
    	Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
    	The ring was never hers.
    
    COUNTESS	Son, on my life,
    	I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
    	At her life's rate.
    
    LAFEU	I am sure I saw her wear it.
    
    BERTRAM	You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it:
    	In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
    	Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
    	Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
    	I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed
    	To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully
    	I could not answer in that course of honour
    	As she had made the overture, she ceased
    	In heavy satisfaction and would never
    	Receive the ring again.
    
    KING	Plutus himself,
    	That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
    	Hath not in nature's mystery more science
    	Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
    	Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
    	That you are well acquainted with yourself,
    	Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
    	You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety
    	That she would never put it from her finger,
    	Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
    	Where you have never come, or sent it us
    	Upon her great disaster.
    
    BERTRAM	She never saw it.
    
    KING	Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;
    	And makest conjectural fears to come into me
    	Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
    	That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;--
    	And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly,
    	And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
    	Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
    	More than to see this ring. Take him away.
    
    	Guards seize BERTRAM
    
    	My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
    	Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
    	Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him!
    	We'll sift this matter further.
    
    BERTRAM	If you shall prove
    	This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
    	Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
    	Where yet she never was.
    
    	Exit, guarded
    
    KING	I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
    
    	Enter a Gentleman
    
    Gentleman	Gracious sovereign,
    	Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:
    	Here's a petition from a Florentine,
    	Who hath for four or five removes come short
    	To tender it herself. I undertook it,
    	Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
    	Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know
    	Is here attending: her business looks in her
    	With an importing visage; and she told me,
    	In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
    	Your highness with herself.
    
    KING	Reads  Upon his many protestations to marry me
    	when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won
    	me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows
    	are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He
    	stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow
    	him to his country for justice: grant it me, O
    	king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer
    	flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.
    		                  DIANA CAPILET.
    
    LAFEU	I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for
    	this: I'll none of him.
    
    KING	The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu,
    	To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors:
    	Go speedily and bring again the count.
    	I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
    	Was foully snatch'd.
    
    COUNTESS	Now, justice on the doers!
    
    	Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded
    
    KING	I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you,
    	And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
    	Yet you desire to marry.
    
    	Enter Widow and DIANA
    
    		   What woman's that?
    
    DIANA	I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
    	Derived from the ancient Capilet:
    	My suit, as I do undersirtuous
    	For t
    	And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
    
    Widow	I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
    	Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
    	And both shall cease, without your remedy.
    
    KING	Come hither, count; do you know these women?
    
    BERTRAM	My lord, I neither can nor will deny
    	But that I know them: do they charge me further?
    
    DIANA	Why do you look so strange upon your wife?
    
    BERTRAM	She's none of mine, my lord.
    
    DIANA	If you shall marry,
    	You give away this hand, and that is mine;
    	You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
    	You give away myself, which is known mine;
    	For I by vow am so embodied yours,
    	That she which marries you must marry me,
    	Either both or none.
    
    LAFEU	Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you
    	are no husband for her.
    
    BERTRAM	My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
    	Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness
    	Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
    	Than for to think that I would sink it here.
    
    KING	Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
    	Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour
    	Than in my thought it lies.
    
    DIANA	Good my lord,
    	Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
    	He had not my virginity.
    
    KING	What say'st thou to her?
    
    BERTRAM	She's impudent, my lord,
    	And was a common gamester to the camp.
    
    DIANA	He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
    	He might have bought me at a common price:
    	Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
    	Whose high respect and rich validity
    	Did lack a parallel; yet for all that
    	He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
    	If I be one.
    
    COUNTESS	                  He blushes, and 'tis it:
    	Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
    	Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
    	Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife;
    	That ring's a thousand proofs.
    
    KING	Methought you said
    	You saw one here in court could witness it.
    
    DIANA	I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
    	So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles.
    
    LAFEU	I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
    
    KING	Find him, and bring him hither.
    
    	Exit an Attendant
    
    BERTRAM	What of him?
    	He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
    	With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd;
    	Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
    	Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
    	That will speak any thing?
    
    KING	She hath that ring of yours.
    
    BERTRAM	I think she has: certain it is I liked her,
    	And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
    	She knew her distance and did angle for me,
    	Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
    	As all impediments in fancy's course
    	Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
    	Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
    	Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
    	And I had that which any inferior might
    	At market-price have bought.
    
    DIANA	I must be patient:
    	You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife,
    	May justly diet me. I pray you yet;
    	Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband;
    	Send for your ring, I will return it home,
    	And give me mine again.
    
    BERTRAM	I have it not.
    
    KING	What ring was yours, I pray you?
    
    DIANA	Sir, much like
    	The same upon your finger.
    
    KING	Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.
    
    DIANA	And this was it I gave him, being abed.
    
    KING	The story then goes false, you threw it him
    	Out of a casement.
    
    DIANA	                  I have spoke the truth.
    
    	Enter PAROLLES
    
    BERTRAM	My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
    
    KING	You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you.
    	Is this the man you speak of?
    
    DIANA	Ay, my lord.
    
    KING	Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you,
    	Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
    	Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off,
    	By him and by this woman here what know you?
    
    PAROLLES	So please your majesty, my master hath been an
    	honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him,
    	which gentlemen have.
    
    KING	Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?
    
    PAROLLES	Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?
    
    KING	How, I pray you?
    
    PAROLLES	He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.
    
    KING	How is that?
    
    PAROLLES	He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
    
    KING	As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an
    	equivocal companion is this!
    
    PAROLLES	I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.
    
    LAFEU	He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
    
    DIANA	Do you know he promised me marriage?
    
    PAROLLES	Faith, I know more than I'll speak.
    
    KING	But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?
    
    PAROLLES	Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them,
    	as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for
    	indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and
    	of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I
    	was in that credit with them at that time that I
    	knew of their going to bed, and of other motions,
    	as promising her marriage, and things which would
    	derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not
    	speak what I know.
    
    KING	Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say
    	they are married: but thou art too fine in thy
    	evidence; therefore stand aside.
    	This ring, you say, was yours?
    
    DIANA	Ay, my good lord.
    
    KING	Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?
    
    DIANA	It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
    
    KING	Who lent it you?
    
    DIANA	                  It was not lent me neither.
    
    KING	Where did you find it, then?
    
    DIANA	I found it not.
    
    KING	If it were yours by none of all these ways,
    	How could you give it him?
    
    DIANA	I never gave it him.
    
    LAFEU	This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off
    	and on at pleasure.
    
    KING	This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife.
    
    DIANA	It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.
    
    KING	Take her away; I do not like her now;
    	To prison with her: and away with him.
    	Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
    	Thou diest within this hour.
    
    DIANA	I'll never tell you.
    
    KING	Take her away.
    
    DIANA	                  I'll put in bail, my liege.
    
    KING	I think thee now some common customer.
    
    DIANA	By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
    
    KING	Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?
    
    DIANA	Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:
    	He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't;
    	I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
    	Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
    	I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
    
    KING	She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.
    
    DIANA	Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir:
    
    	Exit Widow
    
    	The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
    	And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
    	Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
    	Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
    	He knows himself my bed he hath defiled;
    	And at that time he got his wife with child:
    	Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick:
    	So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick:
    	And now behold the meaning.
    
    	Re-enter Widow, with HELENA
    
    KING	Is there no exorcist
    	Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
    	Is't real that I see?
    
    HELENA	No, my good lord;
    	'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
    	The name and not the thing.
    
    BERTRAM	Both, both. O, pardon!
    
    HELENA	O my good lord, when I was like this maid,
    	I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring;
    	And, look you, here's your letter; this it says:
    	'When from my finger you can get this ring
    	And are by me with child,' &c. This is done:
    	Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
    
    BERTRAM	If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
    	I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
    
    HELENA	If it appear not plain and prove untrue,
    	Deadly divorce step between me and you!
    	O my dear mother, do I see you living?
    
    LAFEU	Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon:
    
    	To PAROLLES
    
    	Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so,
    	I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
    	Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
    
    KING	Let us from point to point this story know,
    	To make the even truth in pleasure flow.
    
    	To DIANA
    
    	If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
    	Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
    	For I can guess that by thy honest aid
    	Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
    	Of that and all the progress, more or less,
    	Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
    	All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
    	The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
    
    	Flourish
    
    
    

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