1603
ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
KING OF FRANCE
THE DUKE OF FLORENCE
BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon
LAFEU, an old lord
PAROLLES, a
follower of Bertram
TWO FRENCH LORDS, serving with Bertram
STEWARD, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon
LAVACHE, a clown and Servant to the Countess of Rousillon
A PAGE, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon
COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram
HELENA, a
gentlewoman protected by the Countess
A WIDOW OF FLORENCE.
DIANA, daughter to the Widow
VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow
MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the Widow
Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine
SCENE:
Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles
ACT1|SC1
ACT I. SCENE 1.
Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace
Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA,
and LAFEU, all in black
COUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
BERTRAM. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew;
but I must attend his Majesty's command, to whom I am now in
ward,
evermore in subjection.
LAFEU. You shall find of the King a husband, madam; you, sir, a
father. He that so generally is at all times good must of
necessity hold his
virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it
up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such
abundance.
COUNTESS. What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment?
LAFEU. He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose
practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other
advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.
COUNTESS. This young
gentlewoman had a father- O, that 'had,' how
sad a passage 'tis!-whose skill was almost as great as his
honesty; had it stretch'd so far, would have made nature
immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for
the King's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of
the King's disease.
LAFEU. How call'd you the man you speak of, madam?
COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his
profession, and it was his
great right to be so- Gerard de Narbon.
LAFEU. He was excellent indeed, madam; the King very
lately spoke
of him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have
liv'd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.
BERTRAM. What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of?
LAFEU. A fistula, my lord.
BERTRAM. I heard not of it before.
LAFEU. I would it were not
notorious. Was this
gentlewoman the
daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
COUNTESS. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my
overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education
promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts
fairer; for where an
unclean mind carries
virtuous qualities,
there commendations go with pity-they are
virtues and traitors
too. In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives
her
honesty, and achieves her goodness.
LAFEU. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.
COUNTESS. 'Tis the best brine a
maiden can season her praise in.
The
remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the
tyranny of her sorrows takes all
livelihood from her cheek. No
more of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thought
you
affect a sorrow than to have-
HELENA. I do
affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.
LAFEU. Moderate
lamentation is the right of the dead:
excessive
grief the enemy to the living.
COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the
excess makes it
soon mortal.
BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
LAFEU. How understand we that?
COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners, as in shape! Thy blood and
virtueContend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key; be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord,
'Tis an unseason'd
courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.
LAFEU. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.
COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. Exit
BERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts be
servants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother, your
mistress, and make much of her.
LAFEU. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of your
father. Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU
HELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his
remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him; my imagination
Carries no favour in't but Bertram's.
I am
undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me.
In his bright
radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Th'
ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His
arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table-heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES
[Aside] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a
notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool,
solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him
That they take place when
virtue's steely bones
Looks bleak i' th' cold wind;
withal, full oft we see
Cold
wisdomwaiting on
superfluous folly.
PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen!
HELENA. And you, monarch!
PAROLLES. No.
HELENA. And no.
PAROLLES. Are you meditating on
virginity?
HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a
question. Man is enemy to
virginity; how may we barricado it
against him?
PAROLLES. Keep him out.
HELENA. But he assails; and our
virginity, though
valiant in the
defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some
warlike resistance.
PAROLLES. There is none. Man,
setting down before you, will
undermine you and blow you up.
HELENA. Bless our poor
virginity from underminers and blowers-up!
Is there no military
policy how
virgins might blow up men?
PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown
up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the
breach yourselves
made, you lose your city. It is not
politic in the commonwealth
of nature to
preservevirginity. Loss of
virginity is rational
increase; and there was never
virgin got till
virginity was first
lost. That you were made of is metal to make
virgins. Virginity
by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it
is ever lost. 'Tis too cold a
companion; away with't.
HELENA. I will stand for 't a little, though
therefore I die a
virgin.
PAROLLES. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule
of nature. To speak on the part of
virginity is to
accuse your
mothers; which is most
infallible disobedience. He that hangs
himself is a
virgin;
virginity murders itself, and should be
buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate
offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a
cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with
feeding his own
stomach. Besides,
virginity is peevish, proud,
idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the
canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't.
Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly
increase; and the
principal itself not much the worse. Away
with't.
HELENA. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?
PAROLLES. Let me see. Marry, ill to like him that ne'er it likes.
'Tis a
commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept,
the less worth. Off with't while 'tis vendible; answer the time
of request. Virginity, like an old
courtier, wears her cap out of
fashion,
richly suited but unsuitable; just like the
brooch and
the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your
pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your
virginity,
your old
virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears: it
looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was
formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you
anything with it?
HELENA. Not my
virginity yet.
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a
mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a
goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His
humbleambition, proud humility,
His jarring
concord, and his
discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet
disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall. God send him well!
The court's a learning-place, and he is one-
PAROLLES. What one, i' faith?
HELENA. That I wish well. 'Tis pity-
PAROLLES. What's pity?
HELENA. That wishing well had not a body in't
Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends
And show what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.
Enter PAGE
PAGE. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Exit PAGE
PAROLLES. Little Helen,
farewell; if I can remember thee, I will
think of thee at court.