All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare

Act 2 - Scene 3

Paris. The KING’s palace.

Lafeu : They say miracles are past; and we have our [p]philosophical persons,
to make modern and familiar, [p]things supernatural and causeless.
Hence is it that [p]we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing
ourselves [p]into seeming knowledge, when we should
submit [p]ourselves to an unknown fear.

Parolles : Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath [p]shot out in our
latter times.

Bertram : And so 'tis.

Lafeu : To be relinquish'd of the artists,--

Parolles : So I say.

Lafeu : Both of Galen and Paracelsus.

Parolles : So I say.

Lafeu : Of all the learned and authentic fellows,--

Parolles : Right; so I say.

Lafeu : That gave him out incurable,--

Parolles : Why, there 'tis; so say I too.

Lafeu : Not to be helped,--

Parolles : Right; as 'twere, a man assured of a--

Lafeu : Uncertain life, and sure death.

Parolles : Just, you say well; so would I have said.

Lafeu : I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.

Parolles : It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you [p]shall read it
in--what do you call there?

Lafeu : A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.

Parolles : That's it; I would have said the very same.

Lafeu : Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, [p]I speak in respect--

Parolles : Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the [p]brief and the
tedious of it; and he's of a most [p]facinerious spirit that will not
acknowledge it to be the--

Lafeu : Very hand of heaven.

Parolles : Ay, so I say.

Lafeu : In a most weak-- [p][pausing] [p]and debile minister, great power,
great [p]transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a [p]further use
to be made than alone the recovery of [p]the king, as to
be-- [p][pausing] [p]generally thankful.

Parolles : I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king. [p][Enter
KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and] [p]PAROLLES retire]

Lafeu : Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the [p]better, whilst I
have a tooth in my head: why, he's [p]able to lead her a coranto.

Parolles : Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen?

Lafeu : 'Fore God, I think so.

King of France : Go, call before me all the lords in court. [p]Sit, my preserver, by
thy patient's side; [p]And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd
sense [p]Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive [p]The confirmation
of my promised gift, [p]Which but attends thy naming. [p][Enter three
or four Lords] [p]Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful
parcel [p]Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, [p]O'er whom both
sovereign power and father's voice [p]I have to use: thy frank
election make; [p]Thou hast power to choose, and they none to
forsake.

Helena : To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress [p]Fall, when Love
please! marry, to each, but one!

Lafeu : I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture, [p]My mouth no more were
broken than these boys', [p]And writ as little beard.

King of France : Peruse them well: [p]Not one of those but had a noble father.

Helena : Gentlemen, [p]Heaven hath through me restored the king to health.

All : We understand it, and thank heaven for you.

Helena : I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest, [p]That I protest I simply
am a maid. [p]Please it your majesty, I have done already: [p]The
blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, [p]'We blush that thou shouldst
choose; but, be refused, [p]Let the white death sit on thy cheek for
ever; [p]We'll ne'er come there again.'

King of France : Make choice; and, see, [p]Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in
me.

Helena : Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, [p]And to imperial Love, that god
most high, [p]Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit?

First Lord : And grant it.

Helena : Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.

Lafeu : I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace [p]for my life.

Helena : The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, [p]Before I speak, too
threateningly replies: [p]Love make your fortunes twenty times
above [p]Her that so wishes and her humble love!

Second Lord : No better, if you please.

Helena : My wish receive, [p]Which great Love grant! and so, I take my leave.

Lafeu : Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, [p]I'd have them
whipped; or I would send them to the [p]Turk, to make eunuchs of.

Helena : Be not afraid that I your hand should take; [p]I'll never do you wrong
for your own sake: [p]Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed [p]Find
fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Lafeu : These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: [p]sure, they are
bastards to the English; the French [p]ne'er got 'em.

Helena : You are too young, too happy, and too good, [p]To make yourself a son
out of my blood.

Fourth Lord : Fair one, I think not so.

Lafeu : There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk [p]wine: but if thou
be'st not an ass, I am a youth [p]of fourteen; I have known thee
already.

Helena : [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give [p]Me and my
service, ever whilst I live, [p]Into your guiding power. This is the
man.

King of France : Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife.

Bertram : My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness, [p]In such a
business give me leave to use [p]The help of mine own eyes.

King of France : Know'st thou not, Bertram, [p]What she has done for me?

Bertram : Yes, my good lord; [p]But never hope to know why I should marry her.

King of France : Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed.

Bertram : But follows it, my lord, to bring me down [p]Must answer for your
raising? I know her well: [p]She had her breeding at my father's
charge. [p]A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain [p]Rather
corrupt me ever!

King of France : 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which [p]I can build up.
Strange is it that our bloods, [p]Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd
all together, [p]Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off [p]In
differences so mighty. If she be [p]All that is virtuous, save what
thou dislikest, [p]A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest [p]Of
virtue for the name: but do not so: [p]From lowest place when virtuous
things proceed, [p]The place is dignified by the doer's deed: [p]Where
great additions swell's, and virtue none, [p]It is a dropsied honour.
Good alone [p]Is good without a name. Vileness is so: [p]The property
by what it is should go, [p]Not by the title. She is young, wise,
fair; [p]In these to nature she's immediate heir, [p]And these breed
honour: that is honour's scorn, [p]Which challenges itself as honour's
born [p]And is not like the sire: honours thrive, [p]When rather from
our acts we them derive [p]Than our foregoers: the mere word's a
slave [p]Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave [p]A lying trophy, and
as oft is dumb [p]Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb [p]Of
honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? [p]If thou canst like this
creature as a maid, [p]I can create the rest: virtue and she [p]Is her
own dower; honour and wealth from me.

Bertram : I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.

King of France : Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.

Helena : That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad: [p]Let the rest go.

King of France : My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, [p]I must produce my power.
Here, take her hand, [p]Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good
gift; [p]That dost in vile misprision shackle up [p]My love and her
desert; that canst not dream, [p]We, poising us in her defective
scale, [p]Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, [p]It is
in us to plant thine honour where [p]We please to have it grow. Cheque
thy contempt: [p]Obey our will, which travails in thy good: [p]Believe
not thy disdain, but presently [p]Do thine own fortunes that obedient
right [p]Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; [p]Or I will
throw thee from my care for ever [p]Into the staggers and the careless
lapse [p]Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate [p]Loosing
upon thee, in the name of justice, [p]Without all terms of pity.
Speak; thine answer.

Bertram : Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit [p]My fancy to your eyes: when
I consider [p]What great creation and what dole of honour [p]Flies
where you bid it, I find that she, which late [p]Was in my nobler
thoughts most base, is now [p]The praised of the king; who, so
ennobled, [p]Is as 'twere born so.

King of France : Take her by the hand, [p]And tell her she is thine: to whom I
promise [p]A counterpoise, if not to thy estate [p]A balance more
replete.

Bertram : I take her hand.

King of France : Good fortune and the favour of the king [p]Smile upon this contract;
whose ceremony [p]Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, [p]And
be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast [p]Shall more attend upon the
coming space, [p]Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, [p]Thy
love's to me religious; else, does err.

Lafeu : [Advancing] Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you.

Parolles : Your pleasure, sir?

Lafeu : Your lord and master did well to make his [p]recantation.

Parolles : Recantation! My lord! my master!

Lafeu : Ay; is it not a language I speak?

Parolles : A most harsh one, and not to be understood without [p]bloody
succeeding. My master!

Lafeu : Are you companion to the Count Rousillon?

Parolles : To any count, to all counts, to what is man.

Lafeu : To what is count's man: count's master is of [p]another style.

Parolles : You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old.

Lafeu : I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which [p]title age cannot
bring thee.

Parolles : What I dare too well do, I dare not do.

Lafeu : I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty [p]wise fellow;
thou didst make tolerable vent of thy [p]travel; it might pass: yet
the scarfs and the [p]bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me
from [p]believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I [p]have now
found thee; when I lose thee again, I care [p]not: yet art thou good
for nothing but taking up; and [p]that thou't scarce worth.

Parolles : Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,--

Lafeu : Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou [p]hasten thy trial;
which if--Lord have mercy on thee [p]for a hen! So, my good window of
lattice, fare thee [p]well: thy casement I need not open, for I
look [p]through thee. Give me thy hand.

Parolles : My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.

Lafeu : Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it.

Parolles : I have not, my lord, deserved it.

Lafeu : Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not [p]bate thee a
scruple.

Parolles : Well, I shall be wiser.

Lafeu : Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at [p]a smack o' the
contrary. If ever thou be'st bound [p]in thy scarf and beaten, thou
shalt find what it is [p]to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire
to hold [p]my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, [p]that
I may say in the default, he is a man I know.

Parolles : My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.

Lafeu : I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor [p]doing eternal:
for doing I am past: as I will by [p]thee, in what motion age will
give me leave.

Parolles : Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off [p]me; scurvy, old,
filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must [p]be patient; there is no fettering
of authority. [p]I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him
with [p]any convenience, an he were double and double a [p]lord. I'll
have no more pity of his age than I [p]would of--I'll beat him, an if
I could but meet him again.

Lafeu : Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news [p]for you: you
have a new mistress.

Parolles : I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make [p]some reservation
of your wrongs: he is my good [p]lord: whom I serve above is my
master.

Lafeu : Who? God?

Parolles : Ay, sir.

Lafeu : The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou [p]garter up thy arms
o' this fashion? dost make hose of [p]sleeves? do other servants so?
Thou wert best set [p]thy lower part where thy nose stands. By
mine [p]honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat [p]thee:
methinks, thou art a general offence, and [p]every man should beat
thee: I think thou wast [p]created for men to breathe themselves upon
thee.

Parolles : This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.

Lafeu : Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a [p]kernel out of a
pomegranate; you are a vagabond and [p]no true traveller: you are more
saucy with lords [p]and honourable personages than the commission of
your [p]birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not [p]worth
another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you.

Parolles : Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good; [p]let it be
concealed awhile.

Bertram : Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!

Parolles : What's the matter, sweet-heart?

Bertram : Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, [p]I will not bed
her.

Parolles : What, what, sweet-heart?

Bertram : O my Parolles, they have married me! [p]I'll to the Tuscan wars, and
never bed her.

Parolles : France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits [p]The tread of a man's
foot: to the wars!

Bertram : There's letters from my mother: what the import is, [p]I know not
yet.

Parolles : Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! [p]He wears
his honour in a box unseen, [p]That hugs his kicky-wicky here at
home, [p]Spending his manly marrow in her arms, [p]Which should
sustain the bound and high curvet [p]Of Mars's fiery steed. To other
regions [p]France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; [p]Therefore,
to the war!

Bertram : It shall be so: I'll send her to my house, [p]Acquaint my mother with
my hate to her, [p]And wherefore I am fled; write to the king [p]That
which I durst not speak; his present gift [p]Shall furnish me to those
Italian fields, [p]Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife [p]To
the dark house and the detested wife.

Parolles : Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure?

Bertram : Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. [p]I'll send her straight
away: to-morrow [p]I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

Parolles : Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: [p]A young man
married is a man that's marr'd: [p]Therefore away, and leave her
bravely; go: [p]The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so.

Previous: Act 2 - Scene 2

Next: Act 2 - Scene 4

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