All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare

Act 4 - Scene 3

The Florentine camp.

First Lord : You have not given him his mother's letter?

Second Lord : I have delivered it an hour since: there is [p]something in't that
stings his nature; for on the [p]reading it he changed almost into
another man.

First Lord : He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking [p]off so good a
wife and so sweet a lady.

Second Lord : Especially he hath incurred the everlasting [p]displeasure of the
king, who had even tuned his [p]bounty to sing happiness to him. I
will tell you a [p]thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

First Lord : When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the [p]grave of it.

Second Lord : He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in [p]Florence, of a most
chaste renown; and this night he [p]fleshes his will in the spoil of
her honour: he hath [p]given her his monumental ring, and thinks
himself [p]made in the unchaste composition.

First Lord : Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, [p]what things are
we!

Second Lord : Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course [p]of all
treasons, we still see them reveal [p]themselves, till they attain to
their abhorred ends, [p]so he that in this action contrives against
his own [p]nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself.

First Lord : Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of [p]our unlawful
intents? We shall not then have his [p]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 [p]his company
anatomized, that he might take a measure [p]of his own judgments,
wherein so curiously he had [p]set this counterfeit.

Second Lord : We will not meddle with him till he come; for his [p]presence must be
the whip of the other.

First Lord : In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

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 [p]higher, or return
again into France?

First Lord : I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether [p]of his council.

Second Lord : Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal [p]of his act.

First Lord : Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his [p]house: her
pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques [p]le Grand; which holy
undertaking with most austere [p]sanctimony she accomplished; and,
there residing the [p]tenderness of her nature became as a prey to
her [p]grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and [p]now she
sings in heaven.

Second Lord : How is this justified?

First Lord : The stronger part of it by her own letters, which [p]makes her story
true, even to the point of her [p]death: her death itself, which could
not be her [p]office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed
by [p]the rector of the place.

Second Lord : Hath the count all this intelligence?

First Lord : Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from [p]point, so to the
full arming of the verity.

Second Lord : I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

First Lord : How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

Second Lord : And how mightily some other times we drown our gain [p]in tears! The
great dignity that his valour hath [p]here acquired for him shall at
home be encountered [p]with a shame as ample.

First Lord : The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and [p]ill together:
our virtues would be proud, if our [p]faults whipped them not; and our
crimes would [p]despair, if they were not cherished by our
virtues. [p][Enter a Messenger] [p]How now! where's your master?

Servant : He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath [p]taken a solemn
leave: his lordship will next [p]morning for France. The duke hath
offered him [p]letters of commendations to the king.

Second Lord : They shall be no more than needful there, if they [p]were more than
they can commend.

First Lord : They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. [p]Here's his
lordship now. [p][Enter BERTRAM] [p]How now, my lord! is't not after
midnight?

Bertram : I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a [p]month's length
a-piece, by an abstract of success: [p]I have congied with the duke,
done my adieu with his [p]nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her;
writ to my [p]lady mother I am returning; entertained my
convoy; [p]and between these main parcels of dispatch effected [p]many
nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but [p]that I have not ended
yet.

Second Lord : If the business be of any difficulty, and this [p]morning your
departure hence, it requires haste of [p]your lordship.

Bertram : I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to [p]hear of it
hereafter. But shall we have this [p]dialogue between the fool and the
soldier? Come, [p]bring forth this counterfeit module, he has
deceived [p]me, like a double-meaning prophesier.

Second Lord : Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, [p]poor gallant
knave.

Bertram : No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping [p]his spurs so
long. How does he carry himself?

Second Lord : I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry [p]him. But to
answer you as you would be understood; [p]he weeps like a wench that
had shed her milk: he [p]hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he
supposes [p]to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to [p]this
very instant disaster of his setting i' the [p]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 [p]face: if your
lordship be in't, as I believe you [p]are, you must have the patience
to hear it.

Bertram : A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of [p]me: hush, hush!

First Lord : Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa

First Soldier : He calls for the tortures: what will you say [p]without 'em?

Parolles : I will confess what I know without constraint: if [p]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 [p]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 [p]duke is strong.'
What say you to that?

Parolles : Five or six thousand; but very weak and [p]unserviceable: the troops
are all scattered, and [p]the commanders very poor rogues, upon my
reputation [p]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!

First Lord : You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur [p]Parolles, the gallant
militarist,--that was his own [p]phrase,--that had the whole theoric
of war in the [p]knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape
of [p]his dagger.

Second Lord : I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword [p]clean. nor
believe he can have every thing in him [p]by wearing his apparel
neatly.

First Soldier : Well, that's set down.

Parolles : Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say [p]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 [p]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 [p]rogues are
marvellous poor.

First Soldier : [Reads] 'Demand of him, of what strength they are [p]a-foot.' What say
you to that?

Parolles : By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present [p]hour, I will tell
true. Let me see: Spurio, a [p]hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many;
Corambus, so [p]many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo,
Lodowick, [p]and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine
own [p]company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and [p]fifty
each: so that the muster-file, rotten and [p]sound, upon my life,
amounts not to fifteen thousand [p]poll; half of the which dare not
shake snow from off [p]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 [p]condition, and
what credit I have with the duke.

First Soldier : Well, that's set down. [p][Reads] [p]'You shall demand of him, whether
one Captain Dumain [p]be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation
is [p]with the duke; what his valour, honesty, and [p]expertness in
wars; or whether he thinks it were not [p]possible, with well-weighing
sums of gold, to [p]corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this?
what [p]do you know of it?

Parolles : I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of [p]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, [p]from whence he
was whipped for getting the shrieve's [p]fool with child,--a dumb
innocent, that could not [p]say him nay.

Bertram : Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know [p]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 [p]lordship anon.

First Soldier : What is his reputation with the duke?

Parolles : The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer [p]of mine; and
writ to me this other day to turn him [p]out o' the 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, [p]or it is upon a
file with the duke's other letters [p]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.

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 [p]advertisement to a
proper maid in Florence, one [p]Diana, to take heed of the allurement
of one Count [p]Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that
very [p]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 [p]behalf of the
maid; for I knew the young count to be [p]a dangerous and lascivious
boy, who is a whale to [p]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; [p]After he scores, he never pays the score: [p]Half won is match
well made; match, and well make it; [p]He ne'er pays after-debts, take
it before; [p]And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, [p]Men are to
mell with, boys are not to kiss: [p]For count of this, the count's a
fool, I know it, [p]Who pays before, but not when he does owe
it. [p]Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, [p]PAROLLES.'

Bertram : He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme [p]in's
forehead.

Second Lord : This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold [p]linguist and the
armipotent soldier.

Bertram : I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now [p]he's a cat to
me.

First Soldier : I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be [p]fain to hang
you.

Parolles : My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to [p]die; but that,
my offences being many, I would [p]repent out the remainder of nature:
let me live, [p]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; [p]therefore, once
more to this Captain Dumain: you [p]have answered to his reputation
with the duke and to [p]his valour: what is his honesty?

Parolles : He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for [p]rapes and
ravishments he parallels Nessus: he [p]professes not keeping of oaths;
in breaking 'em he [p]is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir,
with [p]such volubility, that you would think truth were a [p]fool:
drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will [p]be swine-drunk; and in
his sleep he does little [p]harm, save to his bed-clothes about him;
but they [p]know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have
but [p]little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has [p]every thing
that an honest man should not have; what [p]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 [p]him for me, he's
more and more a cat.

First Soldier : What say you to his expertness in war?

Parolles : Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English [p]tragedians; to
belie him, I will not, and more of [p]his soldiership I know not;
except, in that country [p]he had the honour to be the officer at a
place there [p]called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling
of [p]files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of [p]this I am
not certain.

First Lord : He hath out-villained villany so far, that the [p]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 [p]to ask you if
gold will corrupt him to revolt.

Parolles : Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple [p]of his
salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the [p]entail from all
remainders, and a perpetual [p]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?

Parolles : E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so [p]great as the first
in goodness, but greater a great [p]deal in evil: he excels his
brother for a coward, [p]yet his brother is reputed one of the best
that is: [p]in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming [p]on
he has the cramp.

First Soldier : If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray [p]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 [p]drums! Only to seem
to deserve well, and to [p]beguile the supposition of that lascivious
young boy [p]the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who [p]would
have suspected an ambush where I was taken?

First Soldier : There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the [p]general says, you
that have so traitorously [p]discovered the secrets of your army and
made such [p]pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can [p]serve
the world for no honest use; therefore you [p]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. [p][Unblinding him] [p]So, look about you: know you any
here?

Bertram : Good morrow, noble captain.

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? [p]I am for France.

First Lord : Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet [p]you writ to
Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? [p]an I were not a very
coward, I'ld compel it of you: [p]but fare you well.

First Soldier : You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that [p]has a knot on't
yet

Parolles : Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

First Soldier : If you could find out a country where but women were [p]that had
received so much shame, you might begin an [p]impudent nation. Fare ye
well, sir; I am for France [p]too: we shall speak of you there.

Parolles : Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, [p]'Twould burst at this.
Captain I'll be no more; [p]But I will eat and drink, and sleep as
soft [p]As captain shall: simply the thing I am [p]Shall make me live.
Who knows himself a braggart, [p]Let him fear this, for it will come
to pass [p]that every braggart shall be found an ass. [p]Rust, sword?
cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live [p]Safest in shame! being fool'd,
by foolery thrive! [p]There's place and means for every man
alive. [p]I'll after them.

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Next: Act 4 - Scene 4

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