ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL All’s Well That Ends Well, first printed in the 1623 Folio, is often paired with Measure for Measure. Though we lack external evidence as to its date of composition, internal evidence suggests that it, too, is an early Jacobean play. Like Measure for Measure, it places its central characters in more painful situations than those in which the heroes and heroines of the earlier, more romantic comedies usually find themselves. The touching ardour with which Helen, ‘a poor physician’s daughter’, pursues the young Bertram, son of her guardian the Countess of Roussillon, creates embarrassments for both of them. When the King, whose illness she cures by her semi-magical skills, brings about their marriage as a reward, Bertram’s flight to the wars seems to destroy all her chances of happiness. She achieves consummation of the marriage only by the ruse (resembling Isabella’s ’bed-trick’ in Measure for Measure) of substituting herself for the Florentine maiden Diana whom Bertram believes himself to be seducing. The play’s conclusion, in which the deception is exposed and Bertram is shamed into acknowledging Helen as his wife, offers only a tentatively happy ending. Shakespeare based the story of Bertram and Helen on a tale from Boccaccio’s Decameron either in the original or in the version included in William Painter’s Palace of Pleasure (1566-7, revised 1575). But he created several important characters, including the Countess and the old Lord, Lafeu. He also invented the accompanying action exposing the roguery of Bertram’s flashy friend Paroles, a man of words (as his name indicates) descending from the braggart soldier of Roman comedy. Versions of the play performed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, mostly emphasizing either the comedy of Paroles or the sentimental appeal of Helen, had little success; but fine productions from the middle of the twentieth century onwards have shown it in a more favourable light, demonstrating, for example, that the role of the Countess is (in Bernard Shaw’s words) ‘the most beautiful old woman’s part ever written’, that the discomfiture of Paroles provides comedy that is subtle as well as highly laughable, and that the relationship of Bertram and Helen is profoundly convincing in its emotional reality. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY The Dowager COUNTESS of Roussillon BERTRAM, Count of Roussillon, her son HELEN, an orphan, attending on the Countess LAVATCH, a Clown, the Countess’s servant REYNALDO, the Countess’s steward PAROLES, Bertram’s companion

The KING of France LAFEU, an old lord INTERPRETER, a French soldier An AUSTRINGER

The DUKE of Florence WIDOW Capilet DIANA, her daughter MARIANA, a friend of the Widow

Lords, attendants, soldiers, citizens

All’s Well That Ends Well

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter young Bertram Count of Roussillon, his mother the Countess, Helen, and Lord 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 abandoned 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 stretched 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 called 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 Narbonne.
LAFEU	He was excellent indeed, madam. The King very lately spoke of him, admiringly and mourningly. He was skilful enough to have lived 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 Gérard de Narbonne?
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, Helen. Go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have—
HELEN	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 not enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM) (kneeling) Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEU How understand we that?
COUNTESS	Be thou blessed, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners as in shape. Thy blood and virtue Contend 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 checked for silence But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head. Farewell. (To Lafeu) My lord, ’Tis an unseasoned courtier. Good my lord, Advise him.
LAFEU	He cannot want the best That shall attend his love.
COUNTESS	Heaven bless him!—Farewell, Bertram.
BERTRAM	(rising) The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you.
(didascalia)	Exit Countess
BERTRAM	(To Helen) Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.
LAFEU	Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit of your father.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu
HELEN	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?
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
HELEN	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 fixed 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 wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
PAROLES	Save you, fair queen.
HELEN	And you, monarch.
PAROLES	No.
HELEN	And no.
PAROLES	Are you meditating on virginity?
HELEN	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? in
PAROLES	Keep him out.
HELEN	But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.
PAROLES	There is none. Man, setting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up.
HELEN	Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up. Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?
PAROLES	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 preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettle 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.
HELEN	I will stand for’t a little, though therefore I die a virgin.
PAROLES	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 t’one year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with’t.
HELEN	How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?
PAROLES	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 withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily, marry, ’tis a withered pear—it was formerly better, marry, yet ’tis a withered pear. Will you anything with it?
HELEN	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 humble ambition, 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—
PAROLES	What one, i’faith?
HELEN	That I wish well. ’Tis pity.
PAROLES	What’s pity?
HELEN	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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Page
PAGE	Monsieur Paroles, my lord calls for you.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee I will think of thee at court.
HELEN	Monsieur Paroles, you were born under a charitable star.
PAROLES	Under Mars, I.
HELEN	I especially think under Mars.
PAROLES	Why ‘under Mars’?
HELEN	The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars.
PAROLES	When he was predominant.
HELEN	When he was retrograde, I think rather.
PAROLES	Why think you so?
HELEN	You go so much backward when you fight.
PAROLES	That’s for advantage.
HELEN	So is running away, when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.
PAROLES	I am so full of businesses I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier, in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier’s counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure say thy prayers; when thou hast none remember thy friends. Get thee a good husband and use him as he uses thee. So farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
HELEN	Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The King’s disease—my project may deceive me, But my intents are fixed and will not leave me.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A flourish of cornetts. Enter the King of France with letters, the two Lords Dumaine, and divers attendants
KING	The Florentines and Sienese are by th’ears, Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	So ’tis reported, sir.
KING	Nay, ’tis most credible: we here receive it A certainty vouched from our cousin Austria, With caution that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid-wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	His love and wisdom Approved so to your majesty may plead For amplest credence.
KING	He hath armed our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes. Yet for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit.
KING	What’s he comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Paroles
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	It is the Count Roussillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.
KING	(to Bertram) Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face. Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father’s moral parts Mayst thou inherit, too. Welcome to Paris.
BERTRAM	My thanks and duty are your majesty’s.
KING	I would I had that corporal soundness now As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership. He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long, But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe Today in our young lords, but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour. So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were His equal had awaked them, and his honour— Clock to itself—knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below him He used as creatures of another place, And bowed his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility,. In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times, Which followed well would demonstrate them now But goers-backward.
BERTRAM	His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb. So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech.
KING	Would I were with him! He would always say— Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scattered not in ears, but grafted them To grow there and to bear. ‘Let me not live’— This his good melancholy oft began On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out—‘Let me not live’, quoth he, ‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain, whose judgements are Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies Expire before their fashions.’ This he wished. I after him do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolvèd from my hive To give some labourers room.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	You’re lovèd, sir. They that least lend it you shall lack you first.
KING	I fill a place, I know’t.—How long is’t, Count, Since the physician at your father’s died? He was much famed.
BERTRAM	Some six months since, my lord.
KING	If he were living I would try him yet.— Lend me an arm.—The rest have worn me out With several applications. Nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count. My son’s no dearer. BERTRAM) Thank your majesty.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess, Reynaldo her steward, and behind Lavatch her clown
COUNTESS	I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman?
REYNALDO	Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours, for then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
COUNTESS	What does this knave here? (To Lavatch) Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe. ’Tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
LAVATCH	’Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.
COUNTESS	Well, sir?
LAVATCH	No, madam, ’tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned. But if I may have your ladyship’s good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
COUNTESS	Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
LAVATCH	I do beg your good will in this case.
COUNTESS	In what case?
LAVATCH	In Isbel’s case and mine own. Service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o’ my body, for they say bairns are blessings.
COUNTESS	Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
LAVATCH	My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives.
COUNTESS	Is this all your worship’s reason?
LAVATCH	Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
COUNTESS	May the world know them?
LAVATCH	I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you—and all flesh and blood—are, and indeed I do marry that I may repent.
COUNTESS	Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness.
LAVATCH	I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife’s sake.
COUNTESS	Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
LAVATCH	You’re shallow, madam—in great friends, for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop. If I be his cuckold, he’s my drudge. He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage. For young Chairbonne the puritan and old Poisson the papist, howsome‘er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one: they may jowl horns together like any deer i’th’ herd.
COUNTESS	Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?
LAVATCH	A prophet? Ay, madam, and I speak the truth the next way. [He sings] For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find: Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind.
COUNTESS	Get you gone, sir. I’ll talk with you more anon.
REYNALDO	May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you? Of her I am to speak.
COUNTESS	(to Lavatch) Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her. Helen, I mean.
(didascalia)	LAVATCH sings
COUNTESS	‘Was this fair face the cause’, quoth she, ‘Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond. Was this King Priam’s joy?’ With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: ‘Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There’s yet one good in ten.’
COUNTESS	What, ‘one good in ten’? You corrupt the song, sirrah.
LAVATCH	One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o‘th’ song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! We’d find no fault with the tithe-woman if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a? An we might have a good woman born but ere every blazing star, or at an earthquake, ’twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw his heart out ere a pluck one.
COUNTESS	You’ll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you.
LAVATCH	That man should be at woman’s command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. Exit
COUNTESS	Well now.
REYNALDO	I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.
COUNTESS	Faith, I do. Her father bequeathed her to me, and she herself without other advantage may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than she’ll demand.
REYNALDO	Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me. Alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e’er I heard virgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence in the loss that may happen it concerns you something to know it.
COUNTESS	You have discharged this honestly. Keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tott’ring in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me. Stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon.
(didascalia)	Exit Steward
(didascalia)	Enter Helen
COUNTESS	(aside) Even so it was with me when I was young. If ever we are nature’s, these are ours: this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong. Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature’s truth, Where love’s strong passion is impressed in youth. By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults—or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on’t. I observe her now.
HELEN	What is your pleasure, madam?
COUNTESS	You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
HELEN	Mine honourable mistress.
COUNTESS	Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother’, Methought you saw a serpent. What’s in ‘mother’ That you start at it? I say I am your mother, And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombèd mine. ’Tis often seen Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds. You ne’er oppressed me with a mother’s groan, Yet I express to you a mother’s care. God’s mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? What’s the matter, That this distempered messenger of wet, The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye? Why, that you are my daughter?
HELEN	That I am not.
COUNTESS	I say I am your mother.
HELEN	Pardon, madam. The Count Roussillon cannot be my brother. I am from humble, he from honoured name; No note upon my parents, his all noble. My master, my dear lord he is, and I His servant live and will his vassal die. He must not be my brother.
COUNTESS	Nor I your mother?
HELEN	You are my mother, madam. Would you were— So that my lord your son were not my brother— Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers I care no more for than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister. Can’t no other But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
COUNTESS	Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. God shield you mean it not! ‘Daughter’ and ‘mother’ So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? My fear hath catched your fondness. Now I see The myst‘ry of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears’ head. Now to all sense ’tis gross: You love my son. Invention is ashamed Against the proclamation of thy passion To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true, But tell me then ‘tis so—for look, thy cheeks Confess it t’one to th‘other, and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours That in their kind they speak it. Only sin And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is’t so? If it be so you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear’t. Howe’er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly.
HELEN	Good madam, pardon me.
COUNTESS	Do you love my son?
HELEN	Your pardon, noble mistress.
COUNTESS	Love you my son?
HELEN	Do not you love him, madam?
COUNTESS	Go not about. My love hath in’t a bond Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose The state of your affection, for your passions Have to the full appeached.
HELEN	Then I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you and next unto high heaven I love your son. My friends were poor but honest; so’s my love. Be not offended, for it hurts not him That he is loved of me. I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit, Nor would I have him till I do deserve him, Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenable sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun that looks upon his worshipper But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do; but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and Love, O then give pity To her whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose, That seeks to find not that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies.
COUNTESS	Had you not lately an intent—speak truly— To go to Paris?
HELEN	Madam, I had.
COUNTESS	Wherefore? Tell true.
HELEN	I will tell truth, by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty, and that he willed me In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note. Amongst the rest There is a remedy, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The King is rendered lost.
COUNTESS	This was your motive For Paris, was it? Speak.
HELEN	My lord your son made me to think of this, Else Paris and the medicine and the King Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then.
COUNTESS	But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind: he, that they cannot help him; They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself?
HELEN	There’s something in’t More than my father’s skill, which was the great’st Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By th’ luckiest stars in heaven, and would your honour But give me leave to try success, I’d venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace’s cure By such a day, an hour.
COUNTESS	Dost thou believe’t?
HELEN	Ay, madam, knowingly.
COUNTESS	Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants, and my loving greetings To those of mine in court. I’ll stay at home And pray God’s blessing into thy attempt. Be gone tomorrow, and be sure of this: What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of cornetts. Enter the King carried in a chair, with the two Lords Dumaine, divers young lords taking leave for the Florentine war, and Bertram and Paroles
KING	Farewell, young lords. These warlike principles Do not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell. Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis received, And is enough for both.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	’Tis our hope, sir, After well-entered soldiers, to return And find your grace in health.
KING	No, no, it cannot be—and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords. Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy— Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy—see that you come Not to woo honour but to wed it. When The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud. I say farewell.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Health at your bidding serve your majesty.
KING	Those girls of Italy, take heed of them. They say our French lack language to deny If they demand. Beware of being captives Before you serve.
BOTH LORDS DUMAINE	Our hearts receive your warnings.
KING	Farewell.—Come hither to me.
(didascalia)	Some lords stand aside with the King
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us.
PAROLES	’Tis not his fault, the spark.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	O ’tis brave wars.
PAROLES	Most admirable! I have seen those wars.
BERTRAM	I am commanded here, and kept a coil with ‘Too young’ and ‘the next year’ and ‘’tis too early’.
PAROLES	An thy mind stand to’t, boy, steal away bravely.
BERTRAM	I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with. By heaven, I’ll steal away.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	There’s honour in the theft.
PAROLES	Commit it, Count.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I am your accessary. And so, farewell.
BERTRAM	I grow to you, And our parting is a tortured body.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Farewell, captain.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Sweet Monsieur Paroles.
PAROLES	Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good mettles. You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek. It was this very sword entrenched it. Say to him I live, and observe his reports for me.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	We shall, noble captain.
PAROLES	Mars dote on you for his novices.
(didascalia)	Exeunt both Lords Dumaine
PAROLES	(To Bertram) What will ye do?
BERTRAM	Stay the King.
PAROLES	Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords. You have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star—and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated farewell.
BERTRAM	And I will do so.
PAROLES	Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.
(didascalia)	Exeunt [Bertram and Paroles]
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu to the King
LAFEU	(kneeling) Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.
KING	I’ll fee thee to stand up.
LAFEU	(rising) Then here’s a man stands that has bought his pardon. I would you had kneeled, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so stand up.
KING	I would I had, so I had broke thy pate And asked thee mercy for’t.
LAFEU	Good faith, across! But my good lord, ’tis thus: will you be cured Of your infirmity?
KING	No.
LAFEU	O will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will, My noble grapes, an if my royal fox Could reach them. I have seen a medicine That’s able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pépin, nay, To give great Charlemagne a pen in’s hand, And write to her a love-line.
KING	What ’her’ is this?
LAFEU	Why, Doctor She. My lord, there’s one arrived, If you will see her. Now by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her— For that is her demand—and know her business? That done, laugh well at me.
KING	Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration, that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond‘ring how thou took’st it.
LAFEU	Nay, I’ll fit you, And not be all day neither.
(didascalia)	He goes to the door
KING	Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
LAFEU	(to Helen, within) Nay, come your ways.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen disguised
KING	This haste hath wings indeed.
LAFEU	(to Helen) Nay, come your ways. This is his majesty. Say your mind to him. A traitor you do look like, but such traitors His majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid’s uncle, That dare leave two together. Fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt fall but the King and Helen
KING	Now, fair one, does your business follow us?
HELEN	Ay, my good lord. Gérard de Narbonne was my father; In what he did profess, well found.
KING	I knew him.
HELEN	The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him is enough. On’s bed of death Many receipts he gave me, chiefly one Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience th’only darling, He bade me store up as a triple eye Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so, And hearing your high majesty is touched With that malignant cause wherein the honour no Of my dear father’s gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it and my appliance With all bound humbleness.
KING	We thank you, maiden, But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, and The congregated College have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate. I say we must not So stain our judgement or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.
HELEN	My duty then shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce mine office on you, Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one to bear me back again.
KING	I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful. Thou thought‘st to help me, and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live. But what at full I know, thou know’st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art.
HELEN	What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest ‘gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister. So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown When judges have been babes; great floods have flow’n From simple sources, and great seas have dried. When miracles have by th’ great’st been denied Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.
KING	I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid. Thy pains, not used, must by thyself be paid: Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward.
HELEN	Inspired merit so by breath is barred. It is not so with him that all things knows As ’tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent. Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim, But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power, nor you past cure.
KING	Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop’st thou my cure?
HELEN	The great’st grace lending grace, Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery coacher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quenched her sleepy lamp, Or four-and-twenty times the pilot’s glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
KING	Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar’st thou venture?
HELEN	Tax of impudence, A strumpet’s boldness, a divulged shame; Traduced by odious ballads, my maiden’s name Seared otherwise, nay—worse of worst—extended With vilest torture, let my life be ended.
KING	Methinks in thee some blessèd spirit doth speak, His powerful sound within an organ weak; And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate: Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call. Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die.
HELEN	If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved. Not helping, death’s my fee. But if I help, what do you promise me?
KING	Make thy demand.
HELEN	But will you make it even?
KING	Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.
HELEN	Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.
KING	Here is my hand. The premises observed, Thy will by my performance shall be served. So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust: From whence thou cam’st, how tended on—but rest Unquestioned welcome, and undoubted blessed.— Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt the King, carried, and Helen

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess and Lavatch the clown
COUNTESS	Come on, sir. I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.
LAVATCH	I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court.
COUNTESS	‘To the court’? Why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? ‘But to the court’!
LAVATCH	Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap, and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court. But for me, I have an answer will serve all men.
COUNTESS	Marry, that’s a bountiful answer that fits all questions.
LAVATCH	It is like a barber’s chair that fits all buttocks: the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.
COUNTESS	Will your answer serve fit to all questions?
LAVATCH	As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May Day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun’s lip to the friar’s mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin.
COUNTESS	Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
LAVATCH	From beyond your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
COUNTESS	It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands.
LAVATCH	But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to’t. Ask me if I am a courtier. It shall do you no harm to learn.
COUNTESS	To be young again, if we could! I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—There’s a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them.
COUNTESS	Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Thick, thick, spare not me.
COUNTESS	I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Nay, put me to’t, I warrant you.
COUNTESS	You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Spare not me.
COUNTESS	Do you cry ‘O Lord, sir!’ at your whipping, and ‘spare not me’? Indeed, your ‘O Lord, sir!’ is very sequent to your whipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to’t.
LAVATCH	I ne‘er had worse luck in my life in my ‘O Lord, sir!’ I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.
COUNTESS	I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Why, there’t serves well again. COUNTESS An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this, She gives him a letter And urge her to a present answer back. Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much.
LAVATCH	Not much commendation to them?
COUNTESS	Not much employment for you. You understand me.
LAVATCH	Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs.
COUNTESS	Haste you again.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram, Lafeu with a ballad], and Paroles
LAFEU	They say miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
PAROLES	Why, ’tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times.
BERTRAM	And so ’tis.
LAFEU	To be relinquished of the artists—
PAROLES	So I say—both of Galen and Paracelsus.
LAFEU	Of all the learned and authentic Fellows—
PAROLES	Right, so I say.
LAFEU	That gave him out incurable—
PAROLES	Why, there ’tis, so say I too.
LAFEU	Not to be helped.
PAROLES	Right, as ’twere a man assured of a—
LAFEU	Uncertain life and sure death.
PAROLES	Just, you say well, so would I have said.
LAFEU	I may truly say it is a novelty to the world.
PAROLES	It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in [pointing to the ballad] what-do-ye-call there.
(didascalia)	LAFEU reads ‘A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.’
PAROLES	That’s it, I would have said the very same.
LAFEU	Why, your dolphin is not lustier. Fore me, I speak in respect—
PAROLES	Nay, ‘tis strange, ’tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it, and he’s of a most facinorous spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the—
LAFEU	Very hand of heaven.
PAROLES	Ay, so I say.
LAFEU	In a most weak—
PAROLES	And debile minister great power, great transcendence, which should indeed give us a further use to be made than alone the recov’ry of the king, as to be—
LAFEU	Generally thankful.
(didascalia)	Enter the King, Helen, and attendants
PAROLES	I would have said it, you say well. Here comes the King.
LAFEU	Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I’ll like a maid the better whilst I have a tooth in my head.
(didascalia)	The King and Helen dance
LAFEU	Why, he’s able to lead her a coranto.
PAROLES	Mort du vinaigre, is not this Helen?
LAFEU	Fore God, I think so.
KING	Go call before me all the lords in court.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING	Sit, my preserver, by thy patient’s side,
(didascalia)	The King and Helen sit]
KING	And with this healthful hand whose banished sense Thou hast repealed, a second time receive The confirmation of my promised gift, Which but attends thy naming.
(didascalia)	Enter four Lords
KING	Fair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcel Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s voice I have to use. Thy frank election make. Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.
HELEN	To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall when love please. Marry, to each but one.
LAFEU	(aside) I’d give bay Curtal and his furniture My mouth no more were broken than these boys’, And writ as little beard.
KING	(to Helen) Peruse them well. Not one of these but had a noble father.
HELEN	Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restored the King to health.
(didascalia)	ALL BUT HELEN]
HELEN	We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
HELEN	I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest That I protest I simply am a maid.— Please it your majesty, I have done already. The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me: ‘We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever, We’ll ne’er come there again.’
KING	Make choice and see. Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.
HELEN	(rising) Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream.
(didascalia)	She addresses her to a Lord]
HELEN	Sir, will you hear my suit?
FIRST LORD	And grant it.
HELEN	Thanks, sir. All the rest is mute.
LAFEU	(aside) I had rather be in this choice than throw ambs-ace for my life.
HELEN	(to another Lord) The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threat’ningly replies. Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love.
SECOND LORD	No better, if you please.
HELEN	My wish receive, Which great Love grant. And so I take my leave.
LAFEU	(aside) Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I’d have them whipped, or I would send them to th’ Turk to make eunuchs of.
HELEN	(to another Lord) Be not afraid that I your hand should take; I’ll never do you wrong for your own sake. Blessing upon your vows, and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed.
LAFEU	(aside) These boys are boys of ice, they’ll none have her. Sure they are bastards to the English, the French ne‘er got ’em.
HELEN	(to another Lord) You are too young, too happy, and too good To make yourself a son out of my blood.
FOURTH LORD	Fair one, I think not so.
LAFEU	(aside) There’s one grape yet. I am sure thy father drunk wine, but if thou beest not an ass I am a youth of fourteen. I have known thee already.
HELEN	(to Bertram) I dare not say I take you, but I give Me and my service ever whilst I live Into your guiding power.—This is the man.
KING	Why then, young Bertram, take her, she’s thy wife.
BERTRAM	My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes.
KING	Know’st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me?
BERTRAM	Yes, my good lord, But never hope to know why I should marry her.
KING	Thou know’st she has raised me from my sickly bed.
BERTRAM	But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father’s charge. A poor physician’s daughter, my wife? Disdain Rather corrupt me ever.
KING	‘Tis only title thou disdain’st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, poured all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stands off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous, save what thou distik’st— ‘A poor physician’s daughter’—thou dislik’st Of virtue for the name. But do not so. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th’ doer’s deed. Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone Is good without a name, vileness is so: The property by what it is should go, Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair. In these to nature she’s immediate heir, And these breed honour. That is honour’s scorn Which challenges itself as honour’s born And is not like the sire; honours thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers. The mere word’s a slave, Debauched on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb Where dust and dammed oblivion is the tomb Of honoured bones indeed. What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest. Virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.
BERTRAM	I cannot love her, nor will strive to do’t.
KING	Thou wrong’st thyself. If thou shouldst strive to choose—
HELEN	That you are well restored, my lord, I’m glad. Let the rest go.
KING	My honour’s at the stake, which to defeat I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, Proud, scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; Obey our will, which travails in thy good; Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims, Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance, both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee in the name of justice Without all terms of pity. Speak. Thine answer. BERTRAM) (kneeling) Pardon, my gracious lord, for I submit My fancy to your eyes. When I consider What great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now The praised of the King; who, so ennobled, Is as ’twere born so.
KING	Take her by the hand And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate A balance more replete.
BERTRAM	(rising) I take her hand.
KING	Good fortune and the favour of the King Smile upon this contract, whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be performed tonight. The solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov’st her Thy love’s to me religious; else, does err.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but Paroles and Lafeu, who stay behind, commenting on this wedding
LAFEU	Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. PAROLES Your pleasure, sir.
LAFEU	Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.
PAROLES	Recantation? My lord? My master?
LAFEU	Ay. Is it not a language I speak?
PAROLES	A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master?
LAFEU	Are you companion to the Count Roussillon?
PAROLES	To any count, to all counts, to what is man.
LAFEU	To what is count’s man; count’s master is of another style.
PAROLES	You are too old, sir. Let it satisfy you, you are too old.
LAFEU	I must tell thee, sirrah, I write ‘Man’, to which title age cannot bring thee.
PAROLES	What I dare too well do I dare not do.
LAFEU	I did think thee for two ordinaries to be a pretty wise fellow. Thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass. Yet the scarves and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again I care not. Yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou’rt scarce worth.
PAROLES	Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee—
LAFEU	Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial, which if—Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well. Thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. 216
PAROLES	My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
LAFEU	Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. PAROLES I have not, my lord, deserved it.
LAFEU	Yes, good faith, every dram of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple.
PAROLES	Well, I shall be wiser.
LAFEU	E‘en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o’th’ contrary. If ever thou beest bound in thy scarf and beaten thou shall find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, ‘He is a man I know’.
PAROLES	My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
LAFEU	I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. Exit
PAROLES	Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me. Scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord. Well, I must be patient. There is no fettering of authority. I’ll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I’ll have no more pity of his age than I would have of—I’ll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu
LAFEU	Sirrah, your lord and master’s married. There’s news for you: you have a new mistress.
PAROLES	I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord; whom I serve above is my master.
LAFEU	Who? God?
PAROLES	Ay, sir.
LAFEU	The devil it is that’s thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger I’d beat thee. Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.
PAROLES	This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
LAFEU	Go to, sir. You were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate, you are a vagabond and no true traveller, you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave. I leave you.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	Good, very good, it is so then. Good, very good, let it be concealed awhile. [Enter Bertram]
BERTRAM	Undone and forfeited to cares for ever.
PAROLES	What’s the matter, sweetheart?
BERTRAM	Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her.
PAROLES	What, what, sweetheart?
BERTRAM	O my Paroles, they have married me. I’ll to the Tuscan wars and never bed her.
PAROLES	France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man’s foot. To th’ wars!
BERTRAM	There’s letters from my mother. What th’import is I know not yet.
PAROLES	Ay, that would be known. To th’ wars, my boy, to th’ wars! 275 He wears his honour in a box unseen That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars’s fiery steed. To other regions! France is a stable, we that dwell in’t jades. Therefore to th’ war.
BERTRAM	It shall be so. I’ll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled, write to the King That which I durst not speak. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellows strike. Wars is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife.
PAROLES	Will this capriccio hold in thee? Art sure?
BERTRAM	Go with me to my chamber and advise me. I’ll send her straight away. Tomorrow I’ll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
PAROLES	Why, these balls bound, there’s noise in it. ‘Tis hard: A young man married is a man that’s marred. Therefore away, and leave her bravely. Go. The King has done you wrong, but hush ’tis so.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen reading a letter, and Lavatch the clown
HELEN	My mother greets me kindly. Is she well?
LAVATCH	She is not well, but yet she has her health. She’s very merry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given she’s very well and wants nothing i’th’ world. But yet she is not well.
HELEN	If she be very well, what does she ail That she’s not very well?
LAVATCH	Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for two things. HELEN What two things?
LAVATCH	One, that she’s not in heaven, whither God send her quickly. The other, that she’s in earth, from whence God send her quickly.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
PAROLES	Bless you, my fortunate lady.
HELEN	I hope, sir, I have your good will to have Mine own good fortunes. 15
PAROLES	You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on have them stitt.—O my knave, how does my old lady?
LAVATCH	So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say.
PAROLES	Why, I say nothing.
LAVATCH	Marry, you are the wiser man, for many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing.
PAROLES	Away, thou’rt a knave.
LAVATCH	You should have said, sir, ‘Before a knave, thou’rt a knave‘—that’s ‘Before me, thou‘rt a knave’. This had been truth, sir.
PAROLES	Go to, thou art a witty fool. I have found thee.
LAVATCH	Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find me?
(didascalia)	PAROLES In myself, knave.
LAVATCH	The search, sir, was profitable, and much fool may you find in you, even to the world’s pleasure and the increase of laughter.
PAROLES	(to Helen) A good knave, i’faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away tonight. A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which as your due time claims, he does acknowledge, But puts it off to a compelled restraint: Whose want and whose delay is strewed with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim.
HELEN	What’s his will else?
PAROLES	That you will take your instant leave o’th’ King, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthened with what apology you think May make it probable need.
HELEN	What more commands he?
PAROLES	That having this obtained, you presently Attend his further pleasure.
HELEN	In everything I wait upon his will.
PAROLES	I shall report it so.
HELEN	I pray you.
(didascalia)	Exit Paroles at one door]
HELEN	Come, sirrah.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Fat another door]

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu and Bertram
LAFEU	But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM) Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
LAFEU	You have it from his own deliverance.
BERTRAM	And by other warranted testimony.
LAFEU	Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a bunting.
BERTRAM	I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.
LAFEU	I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour—and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the amity.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
PAROLES	(to Bertram) These things shall be done, sir.
LAFEU	(to Bertram) Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor? 15
PAROLES	Sir!
LAFEU	O, I know him well. Ay, ‘Sir’, he; ‘Sir’ ’s a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM) (aside to Paroles) Is she gone to the King?
PAROLES	She is. BERTRAM) Will she away tonight?
PAROLES	As you’ll have her.
BERTRAM	I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses, and tonight, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin.
LAFEU	(aside) A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner, but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. (To Paroles) God save you, captain. BERTRAM) (to Paroles) Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?
PAROLES	I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord’s displeasure. 35
LAFEU	You have made shift to run into’t, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard, and out of it you’ll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM) It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.
LAFEU	And shall do so ever, though I took him at’s prayers. Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.—Farewell, monsieur. I have spoken better of you than you have wit or will to deserve at my hand, but we must do good against evil.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	An idle lord, I swear.
BERTRAM	I think not so.
PAROLES	Why, do you not know him?
BERTRAM	Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, attended
HELEN	I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procured his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you. BERTRAM) I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular. Prepared I was not For such a business, therefore am I found So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse than ask why I entreat you, For my respects are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not. This to my mother. He gives her a letter ’Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom.
HELEN	Sir, I can nothing say But that I am your most obedient servant.
BERTRAM	Come, come, no more of that.
HELEN	And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed To equal my great fortune.
BERTRAM	Let that go. My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie home.
HELEN	Pray sir, your pardon.
BERTRAM	Well, what would you say?
HELEN	I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say ’tis mine—and yet it is— But like a timorous thief most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own.
BERTRAM	What would you have?
HELEN	Something, and scarce so much: nothing indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord. Faith, yes: Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss.
BERTRAM	I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
HELEN	I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.— Where are my other men?—Monsieur, farewell.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Helen and attendants at one door
BERTRAM	Go thou toward home, where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.— Away, and for our flight.
PAROLES	Bravely. Coraggio!
(didascalia)	Exeunt at another door

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the Duke of Florence and the two Lords Dumaine, with a troop of soldiers
DUKE	So that from point to point now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful On the opposer.
DUKE	Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield But like a common and an outward man That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion; therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guessed.
DUKE	Be it his pleasure.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	But I am sure the younger of our nation, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic.
DUKE	Welcome shall they be, And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. Tomorrow to the field.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess with a letter, and Lavatch COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.
LAVATCH	By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.
COUNTESS	By what observance, I pray you?
LAVATCH	Why, he will look upon his boot and sing, mend the ruff and sing, ask questions and sing, pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.
COUNTESS	Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. She opens the letter and reads
LAVATCH	(aside) I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old lings and our Isbels o‘th’ country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o’th’ court. The brains of my Cupid’s knocked out, and I begin to love as an old man loves money: with no stomach.
COUNTESS	What have we here?
LAVATCH	E’en that you have there.
(didascalia)	Exit
COUNTESS	(reads the letter aloud) ’I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her, and sworn to make the “not” eternal. You shall hear I am run away; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, Bertram.’ This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a King, To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch
LAVATCH	O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady.
COUNTESS	What is the matter?
LAVATCH	Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
COUNTESS	Why should he be killed?
LAVATCH	So say I, madam—if he run away, as I hear he does. The danger is in standing to’t; that’s the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For my part, I only heard your son was run away. [Exit]
(didascalia)	Enter Helen with a letter, and the two Lords Dumaine
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to the Countess) Save you, good madam.
HELEN	Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Do not say so.
COUNTESS	(to Helen) Think upon patience.—Pray you, gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief That the first face of neither on the start Can woman me unto’t. Where is my son, I pray you?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Madam, he’s gone to serve the Duke of Florence. We met him thitherward, for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again.
HELEN	Look on his letter, madam: here’s my passport.
(didascalia)	She reads aloud
HELEN	‘When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a “then” I write a “never”.’ This is a dreadful sentence.
COUNTESS	Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam, And for the contents’ sake are sorry for our pains.
COUNTESS	I prithee, lady, have a better cheer. If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine Thou robb’st me of a moiety. He was my son, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child.—Towards Florence is he?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam.
COUNTESS	And to be a soldier?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Such is his noble purpose, and—believe’t— The Duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims.
COUNTESS	Return you thither?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
HELEN	‘Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.’ ’Tis bitter. 75
COUNTESS	Find you that there?
HELEN	Ay, madam.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	’Tis but the boldness of his hand, Haply, which his heart was not consenting to.
COUNTESS	Nothing in France until he have no wife? There’s nothing here that is too good for him But only she, and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her, hourly, mistress. Who was with him?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known.
COUNTESS	Paroles, was it not?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Ay, my good lady, he.
COUNTESS	A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derivèd nature With his inducement.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Which holds him much to have.
COUNTESS	You’re welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you when you see my son To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses. More I’ll entreat you Written to bear along.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs.
COUNTESS	Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near?
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Helen
HELEN	‘Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.’ Nothing in France until he has no wife. Thou shalt have none, Roussillon, none in France; Then hast thou all again. Poor lord, is’t I That chase thee from thy country and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none-sparing war? And is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim, cleave the still-piecing air That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there. Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to’t, And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected. Better ’twere I met the ravin lion when he roared With sharp constraint of hunger; better ’twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Roussillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all. I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence. Shall I stay here to do’t? No, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house And angels officed all. I will be gone, That pitiful rumour may report my flight To consolate thine ear. Come night, end day; For with the dark, poor thief, I’ll steal away. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, a drummer and trumpeters, soldiers, and Paroles
DUKE	(to Bertram) The general of our horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune.
BERTRAM	Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet We’ll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To th’extreme edge of hazard.
DUKE	Then go thou forth, And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm As thy auspicious mistress.
BERTRAM	This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file. Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess and Reynaldo her steward, with a letter
COUNTESS	Alas! And would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again.
REYNALDO	(reads the letter) ‘I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone. Ambitious love hath so in me offended That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie. Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervour sanctify. His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. He is too good and fair for death and me; Whom I myself embrace to set him free.’
COUNTESS	Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Reynaldo, you did never lack advice so much As letting her pass so. Had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented.
REYNALDO	Pardon me, madam. If I had given you this at over-night She might have been o’erta’en—and yet she writes Pursuit would be but vain.
COUNTESS	What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Reynaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife. Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light; my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger. When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return, and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love. Which of them both Is dearest to me I have no skill in sense To make distinction. Provide this messenger. My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow, her daughter Diana, and Mariana, with other Florentine citizens
WIDOW	Nay, come, for if they do approach the city we shall lose all the sight.
DIANA	They say the French Count has done most honourable service.
WIDOW	It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander, and that with his own hand he slew the Duke’s brother. (Tucket) We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way. Hark. You may know by their trumpets.
MARIANA	Come, let’s return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it.—Wett, Diana, take heed of this French earl. The honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty.
WIDOW	(to Diana) I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion.
MARIANA	I know that knave, hang him! One Paroles. A filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all their engines of lust, are not the things they go under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further, but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.
DIANA	You shall not need to fear me.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen dressed as a pilgrim
WIDOW	I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another. I’ll question her. God save you, pilgrim. Whither are you bound?
HELEN	To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
WIDOW	At the ’Saint Francis’ here beside the port.
HELEN	Is this the way?
WIDOW	Ay, marry, is’t.
(didascalia)	Sound of a march, far off
WIDOW	Hark you, they come this way. If you will tarry, Holy pilgrim, but till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodged, The rather for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself.
HELEN	Is it yourself?
WIDOW	If you shall please so, pilgrim.
HELEN	I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
WIDOW	You came, I think, from France?
HELEN	I did SO.
WIDOW	Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service.
HELEN	His name, I pray you?
DIANA	The Count Roussillon. Know you such a one?
HELEN	But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; 50 His face I know not.
DIANA	Whatsome’er he is, He’s bravely taken here. He stole from France, As ’tis reported; for the King had married him Against his liking. Think you it is so?
HELEN	Ay, surely, mere the truth. I know his lady.
DIANA	There is a gentleman that serves the Count Reports but coarsely of her.
HELEN	What’s his name?
DIANA	A Monsieur Paroles.
HELEN	O, I believe with him: In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated. All her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examined.
DIANA	Alas, poor lady. ’Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord.
WIDOW	I warr’nt, good creature, wheresoe’er she is Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn if she pleased.
HELEN	How do you mean? Maybe the amorous Count solicits her In the unlawful purpose.
WIDOW	He does indeed, And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid. But she is armed for him, and keeps her guard In honestest defence.
MARIANA	The gods forbid else.
(didascalia)	Enter, with drummer and colours, Bertram, Paroles, and the whole army
WIDOW	So, now they come. That is Antonio, the Duke’s eldest son; That, Escalus.
HELEN	Which is the Frenchman?
DIANA	He— That with the plume. ’Tis a most gallant fellow. I would he loved his wife. If he were honester He were much goodlier. Is’t not A handsome gentleman?
HELEN	I like him well.
DIANA	’Tis pity he is not honest. Yond’s that same knave that leads him to those places. Were I his lady, I would poison That vile rascal.
HELEN	Which is he?
DIANA	That jackanapes With scarves. Why is he melancholy?
HELEN	Perchance he’s hurt i’th’ battle.
PAROLES	(aside) Lose our drum? Well. 90
MARIANA	He’s shrewdly vexed at something. Look, he has spied us.
WIDOW	(to Paroles) Marry, hang you!
MARIANA	(to Paroles) And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bertram, Paroles, and the army
WIDOW	The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host. Of enjoined penitents There’s four or five to great Saint Jaques bound Already at my house.
HELEN	I humbly thank you. Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us tonight, the charge and thanking Shall be for me. And to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note.
WIDOW	and MARIANA We’ll take your offer kindly. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram and the two Captains Dumaine SECOND LORD DUMAINE (to Bertram) Nay, good my lord, put him to’t. Let him have his way.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) On my life, my lord, a bubble.
BERTRAM	Do you think I am so far deceived in him?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Believe it, my lord. In mine own direct knowledge—without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman—he’s a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship’s entertainment. 13
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) It were fit you knew him, lest reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.
BERTRAM	I would I knew in what particular action to try him.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him. Such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy; we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the laager of the adversary’s when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgement in anything. 34
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum. He says he has a stratagem for’t. When your lordship sees the bottom of his success in’t, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum’s entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE O aside for the love of laughter aloud hinder not the honour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
BERTRAM	(to Paroles) How now, monsieur? This drum sticks sorely in your disposition.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	A pox on’t, let it go. ’Tis but a drum.
PAROLES	But a drum? Is’t but a drum? A drum so lost! There was excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own wings and to rend our own soldiers! 51
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	That was not to be blamed in the command of the service. It was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. BERTRAM) Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success. Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum, but it is not to be recovered.
PAROLES	It might have been recovered.
BERTRAM	It might, but it is not now.
PAROLES	It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or ‘hic iacet’.
BERTRAM	Why, if you have a stomach, to’t, monsieur. If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on. I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit. If you speed well in it, the Duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.
PAROLES	By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM) But you must not now slumber in it.
PAROLES	I’ll about it this evening, and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM) May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?
PAROLES	I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM) I know thou’rt valiant, and to the possibility of thy soldiership will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
PAROLES	I love not many words. Exit
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	No more than a fish loves water. (To Bertram) Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done? Damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do’t.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is that he will steal himself into a man’s favour, and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries, but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM) Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	None in the world, but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost embosked him. You shall see his fall tonight; for indeed he is not for your lordship’s respect.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) We’ll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him, which you shall see this very night. 106
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I must go look my twigs. He shall be caught.
BERTRAM	Your brother, he shall go along with me.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE As’t please your lordship. I’ll leave you. Exit
BERTRAM	Now will I lead you to the house, and show you 111 The lass I spoke of.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE But you say she’s honest.
BERTRAM	That’s all the fault. I spoke with her but once And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her By this same coxcomb that we have i’th’ wind 115 Tokens and letters, which she did re-send, And this is all I have done. She’s a fair creature. Will you go see her?
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE With all my heart, my lord.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen and the Widow
HELEN	If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
WIDOW	Though my estate be fall’n, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act.
HELEN	Nor would I wish you. First give me trust the Count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so from word to word, and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it.
WIDOW	I should believe you, For you have showed me that which well approves You’re great in fortune.
HELEN	Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay, and pay again When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolved to carry her. Let her in fine consent, As we’ll direct her how ‘tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will naught deny That she’ll demand. A ring the County wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son some four or five descents Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire To buy his will it would not seem too dear, Howe’er repented after.
WIDOW	Now I see the bottom of your purpose.
HELEN	You see it lawful then. It is no more But that your daughter ere she seems as won Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent. After, To marry her I’ll add three thousand crowns To what is passed already.
WIDOW	I have yielded. Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place with this deceit so lawful May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs composed To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on’t.
HELEN	Why then tonight Let us essay our plot, which if it speed Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed And lawful meaning in a wicked act, Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact. But let’s about it. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Second Lord Dumaine, with five or six other soldiers, in ambush
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE He can come no other way but by this hedge corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will. Though you understand it not yourselves, no matter, for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 6
INTERPRETER	Good captain, let me be th’interpreter.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice?
INTERPRETER	No, sir, I warrant you.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?
INTERPRETER	E’en such as you speak to me.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE He must think us some band of strangers i’th’ adversary’s entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy. Not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs’ language, gabble enough and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! Here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.
(didascalia)	They hide. Enter Paroles. Clock strikes
PAROLES	Ten o‘clock. Within these three hours ’twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me, and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy, but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 31
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) This is the first truth that e’er thine own tongue was guilty of.
PAROLES	What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. They will say, ‘Came you off with so little?’ And great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman’s mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mute, if you prattle me into these perils.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
PAROLES	I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) We cannot afford you so.
PAROLES	Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) ’Twould not do.
PAROLES	Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Hardly serve.
(didascalia)	PAROLES Though I swore I leapt from the window of the citadel? 55 SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) How deep?
PAROLES	Thirty fathom.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.
PAROLES	I would I had any drum of the enemy’s. I would swear I recovered it.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) You shall hear one anon.
(didascalia)	PAROLES A drum now of the enemy’s—Alarum within. The ambush rushes forth
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
(didascalia)	SOLDIERS (severally) Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.
(didascalia)	They seize and blindfold him
PAROLES	O ransom, ransom, do not hide mine eyes.
INTERPRETER	Boskos thromuldo boskos.
PAROLES	I know you are the Moscows regiment, And I shall lose my life for want of language. If there be here German or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me, I’ll discover that which shall undo the Florentine.
INTERPRETER	Boskos vauvado.— I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue.— Kerelybonto.—Sir, Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards Are at thy bosom.
PAROLES	O!
INTERPRETER	O pray, pray, pray!— Manka revania dulche? 80
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
INTERPRETER	Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
INTERPRETER	The general is content to spare thee yet, And, hoodwinked as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life.
PAROLES	O let me live, And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show, Their force, their purposes; nay, I’ll speak that Which you will wonder at.
INTERPRETER	But wilt thou faithfully?
PAROLES	If I do not, damn me.
INTERPRETER	Acordo linta.— Come on, thou art granted space. 90
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Second Lord Dumaine and a Soldier
INTERPRETER	A short alarum within
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
INTERPRETER	Go tell the Count Roussillon and my brother We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them.
SOLDIER	Captain, I will.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
SOLDIER	A will betray us all unto ourselves. Inform on that.
SOLDIER	So I will, sir.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
SOLDIER	Till then I’ll keep him dark and safely locked.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram and the maid called Diana
BERTRAM	They told me that your name was Fontibel.
DIANA	No, my good lord, Diana.
BERTRAM	Titled goddess, And worth it, with addition. But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality? If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden but a monument. When you are dead you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stern, And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was got.
DIANA	She then was honest.
BERTRAM	So should you be.
DIANA	No. My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM) No more o’ that. I prithee do not strive against my vows. I was compelled to her, but I love thee By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service.
DIANA	Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you. But when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness. BERTRAM) How have I sworn!
DIANA	‘Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vowed true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the high’st to witness; then pray you, tell me, If I should swear by Jove’s great attributes I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths When I did love you ill? This has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions but unsealed, At least in my opinion. BERTRAM) Change it, change it. Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy, And my integrity ne’er knew the crafts That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever.
DIANA	I see that men make toys e’en such a surance That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
BERTRAM	I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me.
DIANA	Will you not, my lord?
BERTRAM	It is an honour ‘longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i’th’ world In me to lose.
DIANA	Mine honour’s such a ring. My chastity’s the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i’th’ world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom 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 bond of truth, When you have conquered 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 delivered— 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.
DIANA	For which live long to thank both heaven and me.
(didascalia)	You may so in the end. Exit Bertram
DIANA	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

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the two Captains Dumaine and some two or three soldiers
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	You have not given him his mother’s letter?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I have delivered it an hour since. There is something in’t that stings his nature, for on the reading it he changed almost into another man.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	When you have spoken it ’tis dead, and I am the grave of it.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Now God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o’erflows himself.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company tonight?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	We will not meddle with him till he come, for his presence must be the whip of the other.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I hear there is an overture of peace.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	What will Count Roussillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	I perceive by this demand you are not altogether of his council.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 accomplished, 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.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	How is this justified?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 confirmed by the rector of the place.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Hath the Count all this intelligence?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I am heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears. The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not, and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 DUMAINE	They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE They cannot be too sweet for the King’s tartness. Here’s his lordship now. How now, my lord, is’t not after midnight?
BERTRAM	I have tonight dispatched sixteen businesses, a month’s length apiece. By an abstract of success: I have congéd with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest, buried a wife, mourned for her, writ to my lady mother I am returning, entertained my convoy, and between these main parcels of dispatch affected many nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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 model, has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Bring him forth. Exit one or more He’s sat i’th’ stocks all night, poor gallant knave. 105
BERTRAM	No matter, his heels have deserved it in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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 confessed 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 confessed?
BERTRAM	Nothing of me, has a?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles guarded and blindfolded, with the Interpreter
BERTRAM	A plague upon him! Muffled! He can say nothing of me.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE (aside to Bertram) Hush, hush.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside to Bertram) Hoodman comes. (Aloud) Porto tartarossa.
INTERPRETER	(to Paroles) He calls for the tortures. What will you say without ’em?
PAROLES	I will confess what I know without constraint. If ye pinch me like a pasty I can say no more.
INTERPRETER	Bosko chimurcho.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Boblibindo chicurmurco.
INTERPRETER	You are a merciful general.—Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.
PAROLES	And truly, as I hope to live.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER reads ‘First demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong.’—What say you to that?
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	Shall I set down your answer so? 139
PAROLES	Do. I’ll take the sacrament on’t, how and which way you will.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE (aside) All’s one to him.
BERTRAM	(aside) What a past-saving slave is this!
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) You’re deceived, my lord. This is Monsieur Paroles, 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.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) 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.
INTERPRETER	(to Paroles) Well, that’s set down.
PAROLES	‘Five or six thousand horse,’ I said—I will say true—’or thereabouts’ set down, for I’ll speak truth.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) He’s very near the truth in this.
BERTRAM	(aside) But I con him no thanks for’t in the nature he delivers it.
PAROLES	‘Poor rogues’, I pray you say.
INTERPRETER	Well, that’s set down.
PAROLES	I humbly thank you, sir. A truth’s a truth. The rogues are marvellous poor.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER reads ‘Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.’-What say you to that?
PAROLES	By my troth, sir, if I were to die this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred and fifty; Sebastian so many; Corambus so many; Jaques so many; Guillaume, 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	(aside) What shall be done to him? 175
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Nothing, but let him have thanks. (To Interpreter) Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the Duke.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER (to Paroles) Well, that’s set down. Reads ‘You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumaine be i’th’ camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the Duke; what his valour, honesty, and 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? 186
PAROLES	I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the inter’gatories. Demand them singly.
INTERPRETER	Do you know this Captain Dumaine?
PAROLES	I know him. A was a botcher’s prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff’s fool with child—dumb innocent that could not say him nay. 193
BERTRAM	(aside to First Lord Dumaine) Nay, by your leave, hold your hands, though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.
INTERPRETER	Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence’s camp?
PAROLES	Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. 199
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Nay, look not so upon me: we shall hear of your lordship anon.
INTERPRETER	What is his reputation with the Duke?
PAROLES	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. 206 INTERPRETER Marry, we’ll search.
PAROLES	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. 210
INTERPRETER	Here ’tis, here’s a paper. Shall I read it to you?
PAROLES	I do not know if it be it or no.
BERTRAM	(aside) Our interpreter does it well.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Excellently.
INTERPRETER	(reads the letter) ‘Dian, the Count’s a fool, and full of gold.’
PAROLES	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 Roussillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again.
INTERPRETER	Nay, I’ll read it first, by your favour.
PAROLES	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 (aside) Damnable both-sides rogue.
INTERPRETER	(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 vowed to thee in thine ear, Paroles.’
BERTRAM	(aside) He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in’s forehead.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier.
BERTRAM	(aside) I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he’s a cat to me.
INTERPRETER	I perceive, sir, by the general’s looks, we shall be fain to hang you.
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	We’ll see what may be done, so you confess freely. Therefore once more to this Captain Dumaine. You have answered to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honesty?
PAROLES	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; but they about him know 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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) I begin to love him for this.
BERTRAM	(aside) For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For me, he’s more and more a cat.
INTERPRETER	What say you to his expertness in war?
PAROLES	Faith, sir, he’s led the drum before the English tragedians. To belie him I will not, and more of his soldiership 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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) He hath out-villained villainy so far that the rarity redeems him.
BERTRAM	(aside) A pox on him! He’s a cat still.
INTERPRETER	His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.
PAROLES	Sir, for a quart d‘écu 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.
INTERPRETER	What’s his brother, the other Captain Dumaine? 285
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Why does he ask him of me?
INTERPRETER	What’s he?
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	If your life be saved will you undertake to betray the Florentine? 295
PAROLES	Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Roussillon.
INTERPRETER	I’ll whisper with the general and know his pleasure.
PAROLES	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?
INTERPRETER	There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says you that have so traitorously discovered 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, off with his head. 310
PAROLES	O Lord, sir!—Let me live, or let me see my death!
INTERPRETER	That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. He unmuffles Paroles So, look about you. Know you any here?
BERTRAM	Good morrow, noble captain. 315
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	God bless you, Captain Paroles.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	God save you, noble captain.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Roussillon? An I were not a very coward I’d compel it of you. But fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Paroles and Interpreter
INTERPRETER	You are undone, captain-all but your scarf; that has a knot on’t yet. 325
PAROLES	Who cannot be crushed with a plot?
INTERPRETER	If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir. I am for France too. We shall speak of you there. Exit
PAROLES	Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great ‘Twould burst at this. Captain I’ll be no more, But I will eat and drink and sleep as soft As captain shall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this, for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and Paroles live Safest in shame; being fooled, by fool’ry thrive. There’s place and means for every man alive. I’ll after them. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, the Widow, and Diana
HELEN	That you may well perceive I have not wronged you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; fore whose throne ‘tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. Time was, I did him a desired office Dear almost as his life; which gratitude Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peep forth And answer ‘Thanks’. I duly am informed His grace is at Marseilles, to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead. The army breaking, My husband hies him home, where, heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the King, We’ll be before our welcome.
WIDOW	Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome.
HELEN	Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter’s dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband. But O, strange men, That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozened thoughts Defiles the pitchy night; so lust doth play With what it loathes, for that which is away. But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf.
DIANA	Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours, Upon your will to suffer.
HELEN	Yet, I pray you.— But with that word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns And be as sweet as sharp. We must away, Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us. All’s well that ends well; still the fine’s the crown. Whate’er the course, the end is the renown.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch, the old Countess, and Lafeu
LAFEU	No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Else, your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the King than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.
COUNTESS	I would a had not known him. It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a mother I could not have owed her a more rooted love.
LAFEU	‘Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.
LAVATCH	Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather the herb of grace.
LAFEU	They are not grass, you knave, they are nose-herbs.
LAVATCH	I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grace. 21
LAFEU	Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?
LAVATCH	A fool, sir, at a woman’s service, and a knave at a man’s.
LAFEU	Your distinction?
LAVATCH	I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.
LAFEU	So you were a knave at his service indeed.
LAVATCH	And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.
LAFEU	I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.
LAVATCH	At your service.
LAFEU	No, no, no. 35
LAVATCH	Why, sir, if I cannot serve you I can serve as great a prince as you are.
LAFEU	Who’s that? A Frenchman?
LAVATCH	Faith, sir, a has an English name, but his phys’namy is more hotter in France than there.
LAFEU	What prince is that?
LAVATCH	The Black Prince, sir, alias the prince of darkness, alias the devil.
LAFEU	Hold thee, there’s my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk’st of; serve him still.
LAVATCH	I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire, and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But since he is the prince of the world, let the nobility remain in’s court; I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may, but the many will be too chill and tender, and they’ll be for the flow’ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.
LAFEU	Go thy ways. I begin to be aweary of thee, and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways. Let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.
LAVATCH	If I put any tricks upon ’em, sir, they shall be jades’ tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. Exit
LAFEU	A shrewd knave and an unhappy.
COUNTESS	So a is. My lord that’s gone made himself much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness, and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will.
LAFEU	I like him well, ’tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady’s death and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the King my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance did first propose. His highness hath promised me to do it; and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?
COUNTESS	With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected.
LAFEU	His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty. A will be here tomorrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.
COUNTESS	It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here tonight. I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together.
LAFEU	Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.
COUNTESS	You need but plead your honourable privilege.
LAFEU	Lady, of that I have made a bold charter, but, I thank my God, it holds yet.
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch
LAVATCH	O madam, yonder’s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on’s face. Whether there be a scar under’t or no, the velvet knows; but ’tis a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.
LAFEU	A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv’ry of honour. So belike is that.
LAVATCH	But it is your carbonadoed face.
LAFEU	(to the Countess) Let us go see your son, I pray you. I long to talk with the young noble soldier.
LAVATCH	Faith, there’s a dozen of ’em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, the Widow, and Diana, with two attendants
HELEN	But this exceeding posting day and night Must wear your spirits low. We cannot help it. But since you have made the days and nights as one To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you.
(didascalia)	Enter a Gentleman Austringer
HELEN	In happy time! This man may help me to his majesty’s ear, If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir.
GENTLEMAN	And you.
HELEN	Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
GENTLEMAN	I have been sometimes there.
HELEN	I do presume, sir, that you are not fall’n From the report that goes upon your goodness, And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful.
GENTLEMAN	What’s your will?
HELEN	That it will please you To give this poor petition to the King, And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence.
GENTLEMAN	The King’s not here.
HELEN	Not here, sir?
GENTLEMAN	Not indeed. He hence removed last night, and with more haste Than is his use.
WIDOW	Lord, how we lose our pains.
HELEN	All’s well that ends well yet, Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.— I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
GENTLEMAN	Marry, as I take it, to Roussillon, Whither I am going.
HELEN	I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand, Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means.
GENTLEMAN	(taking the paper) This I’ll do for you.
HELEN	And you shall find yourself to be well thanked, Whate’er falls more. We must to horse again.— Go, go, provide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch and Paroles, with a letter
PAROLES	Good Master Lavatch, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes. But I am now, sir, muddied in Fortune’s mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.
LAVATCH	Truly, Fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of. I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune’s butt’ring. Prithee allow the wind.
PAROLES	Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir, I spake but by a metaphor. 11
LAVATCH	Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink I will stop my nose, or against any man’s metaphor. Prithee get thee further.
PAROLES	Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.
LAVATCH	Foh, prithee stand away. A paper from Fortune’s close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu
LAVATCH	Here is a pur of Fortune’s, sir, or of Fortune’s cat—but not a musk-cat—that has fallen into the unclean fish-pond of her displeasure and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Exit
PAROLES	My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched.
LAFEU	And what would you have me to do? ‘Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There’s a quart d’ecu for you. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am for other business.
PAROLES	I beseech your honour to hear me one single word—
LAFEU	You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall ha’t. Save your word.
PAROLES	My name, my good lord, is Paroles.
LAFEU	You beg more than one word then. Cox my passion! Give me your hand. How does your drum?
PAROLES	O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
LAFEU	Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee.
PAROLES	It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.
LAFEU	Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound
LAFEU	The King’s coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, enquire further after me. I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat. Go to, follow.
(didascalia)	PAROLES I praise God for you. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the King, the old Countess, Lafeu, and attendants
KING	We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem Was made much poorer by it. But your son, As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know Her estimation home.
COUNTESS	‘Tis past, my liege, And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion done i’th’ blade of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force, O’erbears it and burns on.
KING	My honoured lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all, Though my revenges were high bent upon him 10 And watched 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 15 Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, Whose dear perfection hearts that scorned to serve Humbly called 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 Th‘incensing relics of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender; and inform him So ’tis our will he should.
ATTENDANT	I shall, my liege. Exit
KING	(to Lafeu) 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 sets him high in fame.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram with a patch of velvet on his left cheek, and kneels
LAFEU	He looks well on’t.
KING	(to Bertram) 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 Th’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 45 I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue; Where, the impression of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warped the line of every other favour, Stained a fair colour or expressed 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 55 The dust that did offend it.
KING	Well excused. That thou didst love her strikes some scores away From the great count. But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the grace-sender turns a sour offence, 60 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. 65 Our own love waking cries to see what’s done, While shameful hate 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.
(didascalia)	COUNTESS
KING	Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease.
LAFEU	(to Bertram) 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 Lafeu a ring By my old beard And ev’ry hair that’s on’t, Helen that’s dead Was a sweet creature. Such a ring as this, The last that ere I took her leave 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 fastened to’t. Lafeu gives him the ring 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 reckoned 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, Wrapped in a paper which contained the name Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought I stood ingaged. But when I had subscribed To mine own fortune, and informed 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 med‘cine, 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 called 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 mak’st 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. My fore-past proofs, howe’er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly feared 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
(didascalia)	Enter the Gentleman Austringer with a paper
KING	I am wrapped in dismal thinkings.
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, Vanquished 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. ‫‫‫‪‪‪‫‏‏‎‎
(didascalia)	KING (reads a letter) ’Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Roussillon 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.
GENTLEMAN	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 discov’ry.—Seek these suitors. Go speedily and bring again the Count.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING	I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatched.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram guarded
COUNTESS	Now justice on the doers!
KING	(to Bertram) I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.
(didascalia)	Enter the Widow and Diana
KING	What woman’s that?
DIANA	I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet. My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
WIDOW	(to the King) 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	(to the King) 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	(to Bertram) Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her.
BERTRAM	(to the King) My lord, this is a fond and desp’rate creature Whom sometime I have laughed 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 sayst thou to her?
BERTRAM	She’s impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp.
DIANA	(to the King) 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’th’ camp, If I be one.
COUNTESS	He blushes and ’tis hit. Of six preceding ancestors, that gem; Conferred by testament to th’ sequent issue Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife. That ring’s a thousand proofs.
KING	(to Diana) 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 Paroles.
LAFEU	I saw the man today, if man he be.
KING	Find him and bring him hither. Exit one
BERTRAM	What of him? He’s quoted for a most perfidious slave With all the spots o’th’ world taxed and debauched, Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he’ll utter, That will speak anything?
KING	She hath that ring of yours.
BERTRAM	I think she has. Certain it is I liked her And boarded her i‘th’ 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 inf’nite cunning with her modern grace Subdued me to her rate. She got the ring, And I had that which my inferior might At market price have bought.
DIANA	I must be patient. You that have turned 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	(to Diana) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
BERTRAM	(to the King) My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
KING	You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you.— Is this the man you speak of?
DIANA	Ay, my lord.
KING	(to Paroles) 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?
PAROLES	So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman. Tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.
KING	Come, come, to th’ purpose. Did he love this woman?
PAROLES	Faith, sir, he did love her, but how?
KING	How, I pray you?
PAROLES	He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.
KING	How is that?
PAROLES	He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
KING	As thou art a knave and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this!
PAROLES	I am a poor man, and at your majesty’s command.
LAFEU	(to the King) He’s a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
DIANA	(to Paroles) Do you know he promised me marriage?
PAROLES	Faith, I know more than I’ll speak.
KING	But wilt thou not speak all thou know’st?
PAROLES	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	(to the King) This woman’s an easy glove, my lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.
KING	(to Diana) This ring was mine. I gave it his first wife.
DIANA	It might be yours or hers for aught I know.
KING	(to attendants) 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	(to attendants) 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	(to attendants) She does abuse our ears. To prison with her.
DIANA	Good mother, fetch my bail.
(didascalia)	Exit Widow
DIANA	Stay, royal sir. 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 harmed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen and the Widow
KING	Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is’t real that I see?
HELEN	No, my good lord, ’Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing.
BERTRAM	Both, both. O, pardon!
HELEN	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,’ et cetera. This is done. Will you be mine now you are doubly won?
BERTRAM	(to the King) If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly I’ll love her dearly, ever ever dearly.
HELEN	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 Paroles) Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkerchief. So, I thank thee. Wait on me home, I’ll make sport with thee. Let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones.
KING	(to Helen) 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 uncroppèd flower, Choose thou thy husband and I’ll pay thy dower. For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou kept’st a wife herself, thyself a maid. Of that and all the progress more and less Resolvèdly more leisure shall express. All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets
KING	Epilogue The King’s a beggar now the play is done. All is well ended if this suit be won: That you express content, which we will pay With strife to please you, day exceeding day. Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts: Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND	GEORGE WILKINS A RECONSTRUCTED TEXT
ON	20 May 1608 Pericles was entered on the Stationers’ Register to Edward Blount; but he did not publish it. Probably the players allowed him to license it in the hope of preventing its publication by anyone else, for it was one of the most popular plays of the period. Its success was exploited, also in 1608, by the publication of a novel, by George Wilkins, ‘The Painful Adventures of Pericles Prince of Tyre, Being the True History of the Play of Pericles, as it was lately presented by the worthy and ancient poet John Gower’. The play itself appeared in print in the following year, with an ascription to Shakespeare, but in a manifestly corrupt text that gives every sign of having been put together from memory. This quarto was several times reprinted, but the play was not included in the 1623 Folio (perhaps because Heminges and Condell knew that Shakespeare was responsible for only part of it). In putting together The Painful Adventures, Wilkins drew on an earlier version of the tale, The Pattern of Painful Adventures, by Laurence Twine, written in the mid-1570s and reprinted in 1607. Twine’s book is also a source of the play, which draws too on the story of Apollonius of Tyre as told by John Gower in his Confessio Amantis, and, to a lesser extent, on Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia. Wilkins not only incorporated verbatim passages from Twine’s book, he also drew heavily on Pericles itself. Since the play text is so corrupt, it is quite likely that Wilkins reports parts of it both more accurately and more fully than the quarto. And he may have had special qualifications for doing so. He was a dramatist whose popular play The Miseries of Enforced Marriage had been performed by Shakespeare’s company. Pericles has usually been regarded as either a collaborative play or one in which Shakespeare revised a pre-existing script. Our edition is based on the hypothesis (not new) that Wilkins was its joint author. Our attempt to reconstruct the play draws more heavily than is usual on Wilkins’s novel, especially in the first nine scenes (which he probably wrote); in general, because of its obvious corruption, the original text is more freely emended than usual. So that readers may experience the play as originally printed, an unemended reprint of the 1609 quarto is given in our original-spelling edition. The deficiencies of the text are in part compensated for by the survival of an unusual amount of relevant visual material, reproduced overleaf. The complex textual background of Pericles should not be allowed to draw attention away from the merits of this dramatic romance, which we hope will be more apparent as the result of our treatment of the text. If the original play had survived, it might well have been as highly valued as The Winter’s Tale or The Tempest; as it is, it contains some hauntingly beautiful episodes, above all that in Scene 21 in which Marina, Pericles’ long-lost daughter, draws him out of the comatose state to which his sufferings have reduced him. 14. From the title-page of The Painful Adventures of Pericles Prince of Tyre (1608), by George Wilkins; artist unknown. Since Gower is not a character in Wilkins’s novel, the choice of woodcut undoubtedly reflects both the play’s popularity and Gower’s own impact in early performances, and it is as likely to reflect the visual detail of performance as any early title-page. The sprig of laurel (or posy) in Gower’s left hand is symbolic of his poetic status. 15. From Greene’s Vision (1592), sig. CIr―CIv; probably by Robert Greene. The description here fits reasonably well the Painful Adventures title-page, though the woodcut does not contain the ‘bag of red’, ‘napkin’, or tight-fitting ‘breech’. 16. Severed heads displayed on the gate of London Bridge, from an etching by Claes Jan Visscher (1616). In the play’s sources, and Painful Adventures, the heads of previous suitors (Sc. 1) are placed on the ’gate’ of Antioch. In performance they could have been thrust out on poles from the upper stage; but the timing and method of their display is not clear. 17. From The Heroical Devices of M. Claudius Paradin, translated by P.S. (1591), sig. V3. This is the source for the impresa of the Third Knight, in Sc. 6. 18. From The Heroical Devices of M. Claudius Paradin, translated by P.S. (1591), sig. Z3. This is the source for the impresa of the Fourth Knight, in Sc. 6. 19. An Inigo Jones sketch of Diana, probably for Ben Jonson’s masque Time Vindicated (1623). The goddess of chastity appeared as a character in court entertainments, masques, and plays, and her representation was governed by iconographic convention. As goddess of hunting, she was most often identified by her ‘silver bow’ (21.234). In Thomas Heywood’s The Golden Age (1611), stage directions refer to ‘Diana’s bow’ (sig. EIv) and her ‘buskins’ (sig. E3v); her ‘nymphs’ explicitly, and by inference she, have ‘garlands on their heads, and javelins in their hands … bows and quivers’ (sig. D3v). The bow, quiver, and javelin, all visible in Jones’s sketch, were commonplace in emblematic representations. As a huntress, Diana could naturally be envisaged in a chariot: in Aurelian Townshend’s masque Albion’s Triumph (1631), she descends ‘in her chariot’ (pp. 2, 12); in Time Vindicated, ‘Diana descends’ (1. 446). Such descents for deities were used in the public theatres, too, usually in a chair or chariot (21.224.2). 20. A miniature of Diana by Isaac Oliver (1615): the dress is yellow, the scarf a gauzy pink-white, the cloak over her right shoulder blue; the leaf-shaped brooch topped by the crescent moon, gold. In Samuel Daniel’s masque The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses (1604), ‘Diana, in a green mantle embroidered with silver half moons, and a crescent of pearl on her head, presents a bow and quiver’ (sig. A5). The ‘crescent of pearl’—an ornamental crescent moon, also detectable in Jones’s sketch—can be seen in many emblematic representations of the goddess. 21. For the pastoral Florimène (1635), Inigo Jones designed two scenic views of ’The Temple of Diana’ (see 1. 22.17.1). Though such scenes were not used in the public theatres in Shakespeare’s time, the columns supporting the overhanging roof of the public stage (see General Introduction, pp. xxvii-xxix) could have created a scenic effect roughly similar to Jones’s recessed classical temple. Statues were also available as props in the public theatre; in Pericles, as in The Winter’s Tale, the statue could have been impersonated by an actor on a pedestal. Whether or not a statue was visible, the temple could be identified by an altar (as in The Two Noble Kinsmen).
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY John GOWER, the Presenter ANTIOCHUS, King of Antioch His DAUGHTER THALIART, a villain PERICLES, Prince of Tyre MARINA, Pericles’ daughter CLEON, Governor of Tarsus DIONIZA, his wife LEONINE, a murderer
KING	SIMONIDES, of Pentapolis THAISA, his daughter Three FISHERMEN, his subjects Five PRINCES, suitors of Thaisa A MARSHAL LYCHORIDA, Thaisa’s nurse CERIMON, a physician of Ephesus PHILEMON, his servant LYSIMACHUS, Governor of Mytilene A BAWD A PANDER BOULT, a leno DIANA, goddess of chastity Lords, ladies, pages, messengers, sailors, gentlemen

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter young Bertram Count of Roussillon, his mother the Countess, Helen, and Lord 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 abandoned 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 stretched 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 called 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 Narbonne.
LAFEU	He was excellent indeed, madam. The King very lately spoke of him, admiringly and mourningly. He was skilful enough to have lived 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 Gérard de Narbonne?
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, Helen. Go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have—
HELEN	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 not enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM) (kneeling) Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEU How understand we that?
COUNTESS	Be thou blessed, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners as in shape. Thy blood and virtue Contend 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 checked for silence But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head. Farewell. (To Lafeu) My lord, ’Tis an unseasoned courtier. Good my lord, Advise him.
LAFEU	He cannot want the best That shall attend his love.
COUNTESS	Heaven bless him!—Farewell, Bertram.
BERTRAM	(rising) The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you.
(didascalia)	Exit Countess
BERTRAM	(To Helen) Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.
LAFEU	Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit of your father.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu
HELEN	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?
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
HELEN	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 fixed 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 wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
PAROLES	Save you, fair queen.
HELEN	And you, monarch.
PAROLES	No.
HELEN	And no.
PAROLES	Are you meditating on virginity?
HELEN	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? in
PAROLES	Keep him out.
HELEN	But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.
PAROLES	There is none. Man, setting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up.
HELEN	Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up. Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?
PAROLES	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 preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettle 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.
HELEN	I will stand for’t a little, though therefore I die a virgin.
PAROLES	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 t’one year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with’t.
HELEN	How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?
PAROLES	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 withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily, marry, ’tis a withered pear—it was formerly better, marry, yet ’tis a withered pear. Will you anything with it?
HELEN	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 humble ambition, 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—
PAROLES	What one, i’faith?
HELEN	That I wish well. ’Tis pity.
PAROLES	What’s pity?
HELEN	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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Page
PAGE	Monsieur Paroles, my lord calls for you.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee I will think of thee at court.
HELEN	Monsieur Paroles, you were born under a charitable star.
PAROLES	Under Mars, I.
HELEN	I especially think under Mars.
PAROLES	Why ‘under Mars’?
HELEN	The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars.
PAROLES	When he was predominant.
HELEN	When he was retrograde, I think rather.
PAROLES	Why think you so?
HELEN	You go so much backward when you fight.
PAROLES	That’s for advantage.
HELEN	So is running away, when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.
PAROLES	I am so full of businesses I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier, in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier’s counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure say thy prayers; when thou hast none remember thy friends. Get thee a good husband and use him as he uses thee. So farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
HELEN	Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The King’s disease—my project may deceive me, But my intents are fixed and will not leave me.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il giovane Bertram conte di Rossiglione, sua madre la Contessa, Elena e il signore di Lafeu, tutti in nero
COUNTESS	Nel consegnare mio figlio lontano da me, seppellisco un secondo marito.
BERTRAM	E io, partendo, signora, piango di nuovo la morte di mio padre; ma devo obbedire al comando di sua maestà, di cui sono ora pupillo, per sempre in soggezione.
LAFEU	Nel Re troverete un marito, signora; e voi, signore, un padre. Colui che è così universalmente buono in ogni tempo deve per necessità serbare la sua virtù verso di voi, il cui merito la ridesterebbe là dove mancasse, anziché trovarne penuria dove ve n’è tanta abbondanza.
COUNTESS	Che speranza c’è della guarigione di sua maestà?
LAFEU	Ha congedato i suoi medici, signora, sotto le cui cure ha perseguitato il tempo con la speranza, e non trae altro vantaggio dal procedimento se non la perdita della speranza per opera del tempo.
COUNTESS	Questa giovane gentildonna aveva un padre—oh, quell’«aveva»: che triste passaggio è!—la cui perizia era quasi grande quanto la sua onestà; se si fosse spinta tanto oltre, avrebbe reso immortale la natura, e la morte avrebbe dovuto trastullarsi per mancanza di lavoro. Volesse il cielo che, per amore del Re, fosse ancora vivo. Credo che sarebbe la morte della malattia del Re.
LAFEU	Come chiamavate l’uomo di cui parlate, signora? CONTESSA Era famoso, signore, nella sua professione, e ne aveva ben gran diritto: Gerard de Narbonne.
LAFEU	Era eccellente davvero, signora. Il Re ne parlava proprio di recente, con ammirazione e con lutto. Era abbastanza abile per vivere ancora, se il sapere potesse opporsi alla mortalità.
BERTRAM	Di che cosa langue, mio buon signore, il Re?
LAFEU	Una fistola, mio signore.
BERTRAM	Non ne avevo sentito parlare prima.
LAFEU	Vorrei che non fosse notoria.—Era questa gentildonna la figlia di Gérard de Narbonne?
COUNTESS	La sua unica figlia, mio signore, e affidata alla mia tutela. Ho di lei quelle speranze di bene che la sua educazione promette; le sue disposizioni le eredita, e ciò rende più belli i bei doni—poiché dove una mente impura porta qualità virtuose, là le lodi vanno accompagnate dalla pietà: sono virtù e insieme traditrici. In lei sono migliori per la loro semplicità. Deriva la sua onestà e conquista la sua bontà.
LAFEU	Le vostre lodi, signora, le strappano lacrime.
COUNTESS	È la migliore salamoia in cui una fanciulla possa condire la propria lode. Il ricordo di suo padre non le sfiora mai il cuore senza che la tirannia dei suoi dolori le tolga ogni vivezza dalla guancia.—Basta di questo, Elena. Andiamo, basta, perché non si pensi piuttosto che tu ostenti un dolore anziché averlo—
HELEN	Ostento un dolore, è vero, ma l’ho anche.
LAFEU	Un lamento moderato è diritto dei morti, il dolore eccessivo è nemico dei vivi.
COUNTESS	Se il vivo non è nemico del dolore, l’eccesso lo rende presto mortale. BERTRAM) (inginocchiandosi) Signora, desidero i vostri santi auguri. LAFEU Come dobbiamo intenderlo?
COUNTESS	Sii benedetto, Bertram, e succedi a tuo padre nei costumi come nell’aspetto. Il tuo sangue e la virtù contendono l’impero in te, e la tua bontà spartisca col tuo diritto di nascita. Ama tutti, fidati di pochi, non far torto a nessuno. Sii forte col tuo nemico più in potenza che in atto, e custodisci l’amico sotto la chiave della tua stessa vita. Sii ripreso per il silenzio ma mai accusato per le parole. Quanto più il cielo voglia che ti provveda e le mie preghiere sappiano ottenere, cada sul tuo capo. Addio. (A Lafeu) Mio signore, è un cortigiano ancora crudo. Mio buon signore, consigliatelo.
LAFEU	Non può mancargli il meglio che assisterà il suo amore.
COUNTESS	Il cielo lo benedica!—Addio, Bertram.
BERTRAM	(alzandosi) I migliori auguri che possano forgiarsi nei vostri pensieri vi siano servitori.
(didascalia)	Esce la Contessa
BERTRAM	(A Elena) Sii di conforto a mia madre, la tua signora, e abbi molta cura di lei.
LAFEU	Addio, bella signorina. Dovete sostenere il credito di vostro padre.
(didascalia)	Escono Bertram e Lafeu
HELEN	Oh, fosse tutto qui! Non penso a mio padre, e queste grandi lacrime onorano la sua memoria più di quelle che versai per lui. Com’era egli? L’ho dimenticato. La mia immaginazione non porta in sé altro volto che quello di Bertram. Sono perduta. Non c’è vita, nessuna, se Bertram è lontano. Sarebbe tutt’uno ch’io amassi una brillante stella singolare e pensassi di sposarla: tanto è sopra di me. Nel suo fulgore e nella sua luce laterale devo trovare conforto, non nella sua sfera. L’ambizione nel mio amore così tormenta sé stessa. La cerva che volesse accoppiarsi col leone deve morire d’amore. Era dolce, pur essendo piaga, vederlo ogni ora, sedere e disegnare le sue ciglia arcuate, l’occhio di falco, i riccioli, sulla tavola del nostro cuore—cuore troppo capace d’ogni linea e tratto del suo dolce volto. Ma ora è partito, e la mia fantasia idolatra deve santificare le sue reliquie. Chi viene qui?
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles
HELEN	Uno che parte con lui. Lo amo per amor suo— e tuttavia lo so bugiardo notorio, lo credo in gran parte sciocco, e nient’altro che codardo. Pure questi mali radicati gli stanno così bene che trovano posto quando le ossa d’acciaio della virtù appaiono squallide al freddo vento. E spesso vediamo la fredda saggezza al servizio della follia superflua.
PAROLES	Dio vi salvi, bella regina.
HELEN	E voi, monarca.
PAROLES	No.
HELEN	E no.
PAROLES	Meditate sulla verginità?
HELEN	Sì. Avete in voi una qualche tinta di soldato, lasciate che vi faccia una domanda. L’uomo è nemico della verginità: come possiamo barricarla contro di lui? in
PAROLES	Tenetelo fuori.
HELEN	Ma lui assale, e la nostra verginità, pur valorosa nella difesa, è debole. Esponeteci qualche resistenza guerresca.
PAROLES	Non ce n’è nessuna. L’uomo, ponendo l’assedio davanti a voi, vi scaverà sotto e vi farà saltare in aria.
HELEN	Preservi il cielo la nostra povera verginità dagli scavatori di mine e da chi le fa brillare. Non c’è arte militare per cui le vergini possano far saltare in aria gli uomini?
PAROLES	Abbattuta la verginità, l’uomo sarà fatto saltare più presto. Ma davvero, nell’abbatterlo di nuovo, con la breccia che voi stesse avete aperto perdete la vostra città. Non è politico, nella repubblica della natura, conservare la verginità. La perdita della verginità è ragionevole incremento, e non ci fu mai vergine generata prima che una verginità fosse perduta. Ciò di cui siete fatta è metallo per fare vergini. La verginità, una volta perduta, può essere ritrovata dieci volte; se è sempre custodita, è per sempre perduta. È compagna troppo fredda, via con essa.
HELEN	La difenderò ancora un poco, anche se per questo morrò vergine.
PAROLES	Poco si può dire in suo favore. È contro la regola della natura. Parlare in difesa della verginità è accusare le vostre madri, che è disobbedienza infallibilissima. Chi s’impicca è vergine: la verginità uccide sé stessa, e dovrebbe essere sepolta nei crocicchi, fuori d’ogni limite consacrato, come disperata rea contro la natura. La verginità genera acari, proprio come un formaggio; consuma sé stessa fino all’ultima buccia, e così muore nutrendo il proprio stomaco. Inoltre la verginità è stizzosa, superba, oziosa, fatta d’amore di sé—che è il peccato più proibito nel canone. Non la custodite: non potete che perdere per causa sua. Fuori con essa! Entro un anno si farà due, che è bell’incremento, e il capitale stesso non molto peggiore. Via con essa.
HELEN	Come potrebbe fare una donna, signore, a perderla a proprio gradimento?
PAROLES	Vediamo. Ma davvero, male, ad amare chi non l’ama mai. È una merce che perde il lustro a giacere: più si conserva, meno vale. Via con essa mentre è vendibile. Rispondete al tempo della richiesta. La verginità, come un vecchio cortigiano, porta il cappello fuori moda, riccamente vestita ma inadatta, proprio come il fermaglio e lo stuzzicadenti, che oggi non si portano più. La vostra data sta meglio nel pasticcio e nella minestra che sulla guancia, e la vostra verginità, la vostra vecchia verginità, è come una delle nostre pere francesi rinsecchite: ha brutto aspetto, si mangia asciutta, e insomma è una pera rinsecchita—prima era migliore, ma insomma è una pera rinsecchita. Ne volete far qualcosa?
HELEN	Non la mia verginità, e tuttavia … Là il vostro padrone avrà mille amori, una madre e un’amante e un’amica, una fenice, un capitano e una nemica, una guida, una dea e una sovrana, una consigliera, una traditrice e una cara: la sua umile ambizione, la superba umiltà, il suo stridente accordo e la sua dolce discordia, la sua fede, il suo dolce disastro, con un mondo di vezzosi e amorosi nomi adottivi cui fa da padrino il cieco Cupido. Ora egli— non so che sarà di lui. Dio lo mandi bene. La corte è luogo d’apprendimento, ed egli è uno—
PAROLES	Uno che, in fede mia?
HELEN	Uno a cui auguro bene. È un peccato.
PAROLES	Che cos’è un peccato?
HELEN	Che l’augurare bene non abbia in sé un corpo che si possa toccare, sì che noi, nate più povere, che stelle più basse racchiudono nei soli desideri, potessimo coi loro effetti seguire i nostri amici e mostrare ciò che sole dobbiamo pensare, e che mai ci rende grazie.
(didascalia)	Entra un Paggio
PAGE	Monsieur Paroles, il mio signore vi chiama.
(didascalia)	Esce
PAROLES	Piccola Elena, addio. Se saprò ricordarti, penserò a te a corte.
HELEN	Monsieur Paroles, siete nato sotto una stella caritatevole.
PAROLES	Sotto Marte, io.
HELEN	Penso proprio sotto Marte.
PAROLES	Perché «sotto Marte»?
HELEN	Le guerre vi han tenuto tanto sotto che dovete per forza esser nato sotto Marte.
PAROLES	Quando era predominante.
HELEN	Quando era retrogrado, penso piuttosto.
PAROLES	Perché lo pensate?
HELEN	Andate tanto indietro quando combattete.
PAROLES	È per vantaggio.
HELEN	Così è anche il fuggire, quando la paura propone la salvezza. Ma la composizione che il vostro valore e la paura fanno in voi è una virtù di buon’ala, e mi piace bene portarla.
PAROLES	Sono così pieno d’affari che non posso risponderti acutamente. Tornerò cortigiano perfetto, e con la mia istruzione ti naturalizzerò, così sarai capace del consiglio d’un cortigiano e intenderai quali avvertimenti ti verranno imposti; altrimenti morrai nella tua ingratitudine, e la tua ignoranza ti manderà in rovina. Addio. Quando hai tempo, di’ le tue preghiere; quando non ne hai, ricordati degli amici. Prenditi un buon marito e usalo come lui usa te. E così, addio.
(didascalia)	Esce
HELEN	I nostri rimedi spesso stanno in noi stessi, e li ascriviamo al cielo. La volta fatale ci dà libero campo, e solo tira indietro i nostri lenti disegni quando noi siamo tardi. Qual è la forza che innalza tanto il mio amore, che mi fa vedere e non può nutrire il mio occhio? Il più vasto spazio della fortuna la natura avvicina, per unire i simili ai simili e baciarli come cose affini. Impossibili sono i tentativi strani a coloro che pesano le loro pene col senso e suppongono che ciò che non fu non possa essere. Chi mai s’adoperò a mostrare il proprio merito, e perdette il suo amore? La malattia del Re—il mio progetto può ingannarmi, ma i miei intenti sono fermi e non m’abbandoneranno.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A flourish of cornetts. Enter the King of France with letters, the two Lords Dumaine, and divers attendants
KING	The Florentines and Sienese are by th’ears, Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	So ’tis reported, sir.
KING	Nay, ’tis most credible: we here receive it A certainty vouched from our cousin Austria, With caution that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid-wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	His love and wisdom Approved so to your majesty may plead For amplest credence.
KING	He hath armed our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes. Yet for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit.
KING	What’s he comes here?
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Paroles
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	It is the Count Roussillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.
KING	(to Bertram) Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face. Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father’s moral parts Mayst thou inherit, too. Welcome to Paris.
BERTRAM	My thanks and duty are your majesty’s.
KING	I would I had that corporal soundness now As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership. He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long, But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe Today in our young lords, but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour. So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were His equal had awaked them, and his honour— Clock to itself—knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below him He used as creatures of another place, And bowed his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility,. In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times, Which followed well would demonstrate them now But goers-backward.
BERTRAM	His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb. So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech.
KING	Would I were with him! He would always say— Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scattered not in ears, but grafted them To grow there and to bear. ‘Let me not live’— This his good melancholy oft began On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out—‘Let me not live’, quoth he, ‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain, whose judgements are Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies Expire before their fashions.’ This he wished. I after him do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolvèd from my hive To give some labourers room.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	You’re lovèd, sir. They that least lend it you shall lack you first.
KING	I fill a place, I know’t.—How long is’t, Count, Since the physician at your father’s died? He was much famed.
BERTRAM	Some six months since, my lord.
KING	If he were living I would try him yet.— Lend me an arm.—The rest have worn me out With several applications. Nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count. My son’s no dearer. BERTRAM) Thank your majesty.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di cornette. Entra il Re di Francia con delle lettere, i due Signori Dumaine e vari attendenti
RE	Fiorentini e Senesi sono alle prese, han combattuto con pari fortuna, e continuano una guerra di sfida.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Così si riferisce, signore.
RE	Anzi, è credibilissimo: qui la riceviamo come certezza attestata dal nostro cugino d’Austria, con l’avvertenza che il Fiorentino ci solleciterà pronto soccorso—in che il nostro più caro amico pregiudica la cosa, e sembrerebbe volere che noi rifiutiamo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Il suo amore e la sua saggezza, così provati a vostra maestà, possono chiedere la più ampia fiducia.
RE	Egli ha armato la nostra risposta, e Firenze è respinta prima ch’ei venga. Pure ai nostri gentiluomini che intendono vedere il servizio toscano è dato libero congedo di schierarsi da una parte o dall’altra.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Potrà bene servire di vivaio alla nostra nobiltà, che è malata di voglia d’aria e d’imprese.
RE	Chi è colui che viene qui?
(didascalia)	Entrano Bertram, Lafeu e Paroles
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	È il conte di Rossiglione, mio buon signore, il giovane Bertram.
RE	(a Bertram) Giovane, porti il volto di tuo padre. La generosa natura, più accurata che in fretta, ti ha bene composto. Le doti morali di tuo padre possa tu ereditarle anche. Benvenuto a Parigi.
BERTRAM	I miei ringraziamenti e il mio dovere sono di vostra maestà.
RE	Vorrei avere ora quella saldezza del corpo che avevo quando tuo padre e io, in amicizia, provammo per primi le nostre armi. Egli guardava lontano nel servizio del tempo, ed era discepolo dei più valorosi. Durò a lungo, ma su noi due s’insinuò l’età strega, e ci logorò fuor d’ogni azione. Molto mi ristora parlare del vostro buon padre. In gioventù aveva quello spirito che bene posso osservare oggi nei nostri giovani signori; ma essi possono scherzare finché il loro stesso scherno torni loro inosservato, prima che sappiano celare la leggerezza nell’onore. Vero cortigiano, né disprezzo né amarezza erano nel suo orgoglio o nella sua asprezza; e se v’erano, il suo pari li aveva destati, e il suo onore— orologio di sé stesso—conosceva il vero minuto in cui l’obiezione gli comandava di parlare, e in quel tempo la sua lingua obbediva alla sua mano. Chi gli stava sotto egli trattava come creature d’altro luogo, e piegava la sua eminente cima ai loro ranghi bassi, rendendoli orgogliosi della sua umiltà,. nella loro povera lode umiliandosi. Tale uomo potrebbe essere modello a questi tempi più giovani, che, seguìto bene, li mostrerebbe ora solo camminatori a ritroso.
BERTRAM	La sua buona memoria, signore, Vive più ricca nei vostri pensieri che sulla sua tomba. Così il suo epitaffio non vive in conferma come nel vostro regale discorso.
RE	Fossi con lui! Diceva sempre— mi par d’udirlo adesso; le sue parole gradite non le spargeva negli orecchi, ma le innestava perché vi crescessero e fruttassero. «Ch’io non viva»— così la sua buona malinconia spesso cominciava sulla catastrofe e sul calcagno del divertimento, quando era finito—«ch’io non viva», diceva, «quando la mia fiamma manchi d’olio, per essere il moccolo di spiriti più giovani, i cui sensi pronti disdegnano tutto fuorché le cose nuove, i cui giudizi son meri padri delle loro vesti, le cui costanze scadono prima delle loro mode.» Questo egli desiderava. Io, dopo di lui, dopo di lui desidero pure, poiché non posso portare a casa né cera né miele, d’esser presto disciolto dal mio alveare per far posto a qualche operaio.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Siete amato, signore. Chi meno ve ne presta vi rimpiangerà per primo.
RE	Occupo un posto, lo so.—Quanto tempo è, Conte, da che morì il medico di vostro padre? Era molto famoso.
BERTRAM	Circa sei mesi, mio signore.
RE	Se fosse vivo, lo proverei ancora.— Datemi un braccio.—Gli altri m’hanno logorato con diverse applicazioni. La natura e la malattia Ne discutano a loro agio. Benvenuto, Conte. Mio figlio non m’è più caro. BERTRAM) Grazie a vostra maestà.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess, Reynaldo her steward, and behind Lavatch her clown
COUNTESS	I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman?
REYNALDO	Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours, for then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
COUNTESS	What does this knave here? (To Lavatch) Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe. ’Tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
LAVATCH	’Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.
COUNTESS	Well, sir?
LAVATCH	No, madam, ’tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned. But if I may have your ladyship’s good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
COUNTESS	Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
LAVATCH	I do beg your good will in this case.
COUNTESS	In what case?
LAVATCH	In Isbel’s case and mine own. Service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o’ my body, for they say bairns are blessings.
COUNTESS	Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
LAVATCH	My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives.
COUNTESS	Is this all your worship’s reason?
LAVATCH	Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
COUNTESS	May the world know them?
LAVATCH	I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you—and all flesh and blood—are, and indeed I do marry that I may repent.
COUNTESS	Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness.
LAVATCH	I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife’s sake.
COUNTESS	Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
LAVATCH	You’re shallow, madam—in great friends, for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop. If I be his cuckold, he’s my drudge. He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage. For young Chairbonne the puritan and old Poisson the papist, howsome‘er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one: they may jowl horns together like any deer i’th’ herd.
COUNTESS	Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?
LAVATCH	A prophet? Ay, madam, and I speak the truth the next way. [He sings] For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find: Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind.
COUNTESS	Get you gone, sir. I’ll talk with you more anon.
REYNALDO	May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you? Of her I am to speak.
COUNTESS	(to Lavatch) Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her. Helen, I mean.
(didascalia)	LAVATCH sings
COUNTESS	‘Was this fair face the cause’, quoth she, ‘Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond. Was this King Priam’s joy?’ With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: ‘Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There’s yet one good in ten.’
COUNTESS	What, ‘one good in ten’? You corrupt the song, sirrah.
LAVATCH	One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o‘th’ song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! We’d find no fault with the tithe-woman if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a? An we might have a good woman born but ere every blazing star, or at an earthquake, ’twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw his heart out ere a pluck one.
COUNTESS	You’ll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you.
LAVATCH	That man should be at woman’s command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. Exit
COUNTESS	Well now.
REYNALDO	I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.
COUNTESS	Faith, I do. Her father bequeathed her to me, and she herself without other advantage may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than she’ll demand.
REYNALDO	Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me. Alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e’er I heard virgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence in the loss that may happen it concerns you something to know it.
COUNTESS	You have discharged this honestly. Keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tott’ring in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me. Stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon.
(didascalia)	Exit Steward
(didascalia)	Enter Helen
COUNTESS	(aside) Even so it was with me when I was young. If ever we are nature’s, these are ours: this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong. Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature’s truth, Where love’s strong passion is impressed in youth. By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults—or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on’t. I observe her now.
HELEN	What is your pleasure, madam?
COUNTESS	You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
HELEN	Mine honourable mistress.
COUNTESS	Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother’, Methought you saw a serpent. What’s in ‘mother’ That you start at it? I say I am your mother, And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombèd mine. ’Tis often seen Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds. You ne’er oppressed me with a mother’s groan, Yet I express to you a mother’s care. God’s mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? What’s the matter, That this distempered messenger of wet, The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye? Why, that you are my daughter?
HELEN	That I am not.
COUNTESS	I say I am your mother.
HELEN	Pardon, madam. The Count Roussillon cannot be my brother. I am from humble, he from honoured name; No note upon my parents, his all noble. My master, my dear lord he is, and I His servant live and will his vassal die. He must not be my brother.
COUNTESS	Nor I your mother?
HELEN	You are my mother, madam. Would you were— So that my lord your son were not my brother— Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers I care no more for than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister. Can’t no other But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
COUNTESS	Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. God shield you mean it not! ‘Daughter’ and ‘mother’ So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? My fear hath catched your fondness. Now I see The myst‘ry of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears’ head. Now to all sense ’tis gross: You love my son. Invention is ashamed Against the proclamation of thy passion To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true, But tell me then ‘tis so—for look, thy cheeks Confess it t’one to th‘other, and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours That in their kind they speak it. Only sin And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is’t so? If it be so you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear’t. Howe’er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly.
HELEN	Good madam, pardon me.
COUNTESS	Do you love my son?
HELEN	Your pardon, noble mistress.
COUNTESS	Love you my son?
HELEN	Do not you love him, madam?
COUNTESS	Go not about. My love hath in’t a bond Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose The state of your affection, for your passions Have to the full appeached.
HELEN	Then I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you and next unto high heaven I love your son. My friends were poor but honest; so’s my love. Be not offended, for it hurts not him That he is loved of me. I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit, Nor would I have him till I do deserve him, Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenable sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun that looks upon his worshipper But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do; but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and Love, O then give pity To her whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose, That seeks to find not that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies.
COUNTESS	Had you not lately an intent—speak truly— To go to Paris?
HELEN	Madam, I had.
COUNTESS	Wherefore? Tell true.
HELEN	I will tell truth, by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty, and that he willed me In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note. Amongst the rest There is a remedy, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The King is rendered lost.
COUNTESS	This was your motive For Paris, was it? Speak.
HELEN	My lord your son made me to think of this, Else Paris and the medicine and the King Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then.
COUNTESS	But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind: he, that they cannot help him; They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself?
HELEN	There’s something in’t More than my father’s skill, which was the great’st Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By th’ luckiest stars in heaven, and would your honour But give me leave to try success, I’d venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace’s cure By such a day, an hour.
COUNTESS	Dost thou believe’t?
HELEN	Ay, madam, knowingly.
COUNTESS	Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants, and my loving greetings To those of mine in court. I’ll stay at home And pray God’s blessing into thy attempt. Be gone tomorrow, and be sure of this: What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Contessa, Reynaldo suo maggiordomo, e dietro Lavatch suo buffone
COUNTESS	Ora ascolterò. Che dite di questa gentildonna?
REYNALDO	Signora, la cura che ho posto per pareggiare la vostra soddisfazione vorrei si trovasse nel calendario dei miei passati sforzi; poiché feriamo la nostra modestia e insozziamo la limpidezza dei nostri meriti quando li pubblichiamo da noi stessi.
COUNTESS	Che fa qui questo furfante? (A Lavatch) Vattene, messere. Le lagnanze che ho udito di te non le credo tutte. È mia lentezza non crederle, perché so che non ti manca la follia di commetterle e hai abilità bastante per far tue tali furfanterie.
LAVATCH	Non v’è ignoto, signora, che sono un pover’uomo.
COUNTESS	Bene, signore?
LAVATCH	No, signora, non è così bene ch’io sia povero, benché molti dei ricchi siano dannati. Ma se posso avere il buon volere di vostra signoria per andarmene nel mondo, Isbel la donna e io faremo come potremo.
COUNTESS	Vuoi proprio essere un mendicante?
LAVATCH	Mendico il vostro buon volere in questo caso.
COUNTESS	In quale caso?
LAVATCH	Nel caso d’Isbel e nel mio. Il servire non è eredità, e credo che non avrò mai la benedizione di Dio finché non avrò prole dal mio corpo, perché dicono che i figlioli sono benedizioni.
COUNTESS	Dimmi la tua ragione per cui vuoi sposarti.
LAVATCH	Il mio povero corpo, signora, lo richiede. Sono spinto dalla carne, e deve pur andare chi è spinto dal diavolo.
COUNTESS	È questa tutta la ragione di vossignoria?
LAVATCH	In fede, signora, ho altre sante ragioni, quali che siano.
COUNTESS	Può il mondo conoscerle?
LAVATCH	Sono stato, signora, una creatura malvagia, come voi—e ogni carne e sangue—siete, e in verità mi sposo per poter far penitenza.
COUNTESS	Il tuo matrimonio prima della tua malvagità.
LAVATCH	Sono privo d’amici, signora, e spero d’aver amici per amor di mia moglie.
COUNTESS	Tali amici sono i tuoi nemici, furfante.
LAVATCH	Siete di poca vista, signora—in fatto di grandi amici, perché i furfanti vengono a fare per me quello di cui sono stanco. Chi ara la mia terra risparmia il mio tiro, e mi lascia raccogliere il raccolto. Se io sono il suo cornuto, lui è il mio garzone. Chi consola mia moglie è colui che nutre la mia carne e il mio sangue; chi nutre la mia carne e il mio sangue ama la mia carne e il mio sangue; chi ama la mia carne e il mio sangue è mio amico; ergo, chi bacia mia moglie è mio amico. Se gli uomini si contentassero d’essere quel che sono, non ci sarebbe paura nel matrimonio. Perché il giovane Chairbonne il puritano e il vecchio Poisson il papista, comunque i loro cuori siano divisi in religione, hanno la testa tutt’una: possono accostare le corna come qualunque cervo del branco.
COUNTESS	Sarai sempre un furfante sboccato e calunnioso?
LAVATCH	Un profeta? Sì, signora, e dico la verità per la via più breve. [Canta] Perché la ballata ripeterò, che gli uomini troveran ben vera: il vostro matrimonio vien per destino, il vostro cuculo canta per natura.
COUNTESS	Vattene, messere. Ti parlerò di più fra poco.
REYNALDO	Vi piaccia, signora, ch’egli dica a Elena di venire a voi? Di lei devo parlare.
COUNTESS	(a Lavatch) Messere, di’ alla mia gentildonna che voglio parlarle. Elena, intendo.
(didascalia)	LAVATCH canta
COUNTESS	«Fu questo bel volto la causa», disse lei, «per cui i Greci saccheggiaron Troia? Follia fatta, fatta follia. Fu questa la gioia di re Priamo?» Con ciò sospirò mentre stava in piedi, con ciò sospirò mentre stava in piedi, e diede allora questa sentenza: «Tra nove cattive se una è buona, tra nove cattive se una è buona, c’è pur una buona su dieci.»
COUNTESS	Che, «una buona su dieci»? Tu corrompi la canzone, messere.
LAVATCH	Una donna buona su dieci, signora, il che è una purificazione della canzone. Volesse Dio servire il mondo così tutto l’anno! Non troveremmo da ridire sulla decima in donne, s’io fossi il parroco. Una su dieci, dice lui? Se potessimo avere una buona donna nata soltanto a ogni cometa fiammeggiante, o a ogni terremoto, si migliorerebbe bene la lotteria. Un uomo può cavarsi il cuore prima di pescarne una.
COUNTESS	Vattene, ser furfante, e fa’ come ti comando.
LAVATCH	Che l’uomo debba stare al comando della donna, e che non ne venga danno! Benché l’onestà non sia puritana, non farà danno alcuno; porterà la cotta dell’umiltà sopra la nera veste d’un gran cuore. Vado, in fede. L’affare è che Elena venga qua. Esce
COUNTESS	Bene, ora.
REYNALDO	So, signora, che amate interamente la vostra gentildonna.
COUNTESS	In fede, è vero. Suo padre me l’affidò per testamento, e lei stessa, senza altro vantaggio, può legittimamente avanzar diritto a tutto l’amore che trova. Le è dovuto più di quanto le sia pagato, e più le sarà pagato di quanto ella chiederà.
REYNALDO	Signora, poco tempo fa fui più vicino a lei di quanto credo ella desiderasse. Era sola, e comunicava a sé stessa, le sue parole ai suoi propri orecchi; credeva, oso giurarlo per lei, che non toccassero alcun senso estraneo. La sua materia era che amava vostro figlio. La Fortuna, diceva, non era dea, avendo posto tale differenza fra le loro due condizioni; l’Amore non era dio, non volendo estendere la sua potenza se non dove le qualità sono pari; Diana non era regina delle vergini, tollerando che il suo povero cavaliere fosse sorpreso senza soccorso al primo assalto né riscatto dopo. Questo ella proferì col più amaro tocco di dolore in cui mai udii vergine lamentarsi; e ritenni mio dovere informarvene prontamente, poiché nella perdita che può avvenire vi importa alquanto saperlo.
COUNTESS	Avete adempiuto onestamente. Tenetelo per voi. Molte verosimiglianze me l’avevano già fatto intendere, e stavano così vacillanti sulla bilancia che non potevo né credere né dubitare. Vi prego, lasciatemi. Riponete questo nel vostro petto, e vi ringrazio della vostra onesta cura. Vi parlerò più a lungo fra poco.
(didascalia)	Esce il Maggiordomo
(didascalia)	Entra Elena
COUNTESS	(a parte) Proprio così fu con me quand’ero giovane. Se mai siamo della natura, questi sono nostri: questa spina alla nostra rosa di gioventù giustamente appartiene. Il nostro sangue a noi, questo al nostro sangue è nato; è la mostra e il sigillo della verità della natura, dove la forte passione d’amore s’imprime in gioventù. Per i nostri ricordi dei giorni trascorsi, tali erano le nostre colpe—o allora le credevamo nessuna. Il suo occhio ne è malato. Ora l’osservo.
HELEN	Qual è il vostro piacere, signora?
COUNTESS	Sai, Elena, ch’io ti sono madre.
HELEN	Mia onorata signora.
COUNTESS	Anzi, una madre. Perché non una madre? Quando dissi «una madre», mi parve che tu vedessi un serpente. Che c’è in «madre» da farti sussultare? Dico che sono tua madre, e ti pongo nel catalogo di quelli che furono grembo mio. Si vede spesso che l’adozione contende con la natura, e la scelta genera per noi un rampollo nativo da semi stranieri. Non mi opprimesti mai col gemito d’una madre, pure ti esprimo la cura d’una madre. Misericordia di Dio, fanciulla! Ti fa cagliare il sangue ch’io dica d’essere tua madre? Che avviene, che questo scomposto messaggero d’umido, la multicolore Iride, ti cerchia l’occhio? Come, che tu sei mia figlia?
HELEN	Che non lo sono.
COUNTESS	Dico che sono vostra madre.
HELEN	Perdono, signora. Il conte di Rossiglione non può essere mio fratello. Io vengo da umile, egli da onorato nome; nessuna fama sui miei genitori, i suoi tutti nobili. Mio padrone, mio caro signore egli è, e io vivo sua serva e morrò sua vassalla. Non deve essere mio fratello.
COUNTESS	Né io vostra madre?
HELEN	Voi siete mia madre, signora. Foste— purché il mio signore vostro figlio non fosse mio fratello— davvero mia madre! O foste madre d’entrambi, non m’importa più di ciò che del cielo, purché io non fossi sua sorella. Non può essere altrimenti, se non che, essendo io vostra figlia, egli debba essere mio fratello?
COUNTESS	Sì, Elena, potresti essere mia nuora. Dio non voglia che tu l’intenda! «Figlia» e «madre» così contendono nel tuo polso. Che, pallida di nuovo? La mia paura ha colto il tuo affetto. Ora vedo il mistero della tua solitudine, e trovo la fonte delle tue salse lacrime. Ora a ogni senso è palese: tu ami mio figlio. L’invenzione si vergogna, contro il proclama della tua passione, di dire che non è così. Perciò dimmi il vero, ma dimmi allora ch’è così—perché guarda, le tue guance se lo confessano l’una all’altra, e i tuoi occhi lo vedono mostrato sì palesemente nei tuoi modi che a loro modo lo dicono. Solo il peccato e un’infernale ostinazione ti legano la lingua, sì che la verità debba esser sospettata. Parla, è così? Se è così, hai avvolto un bel gomitolo; se non è così, negalo. In ogni caso ti scongiuro, per quanto il cielo opererà in me a tuo vantaggio, di dirmi il vero.
HELEN	Buona signora, perdonatemi.
COUNTESS	Ami tu mio figlio?
HELEN	Il vostro perdono, nobile signora.
COUNTESS	Ami mio figlio?
HELEN	Non lo amate voi, signora?
COUNTESS	Non girare intorno. Il mio amore ha in sé un vincolo di cui il mondo prende nota. Su, su, svela lo stato del tuo affetto, perché le tue passioni t’hanno pienamente accusata.
HELEN	Allora confesso, qui sul mio ginocchio, davanti all’alto cielo e a voi, che davanti a voi e subito dopo l’alto cielo io amo vostro figlio. I miei erano poveri ma onesti; così è il mio amore. Non v’offendete, perché non gli fa male essere amato da me. Non lo inseguo con alcun segno di presuntuosa richiesta, né lo vorrei prima di meritarlo, pur non sapendo mai come quel merito potrebbe essere. So che amo invano, e lotto contro la speranza; pure in questo crivello fallace e non tenibile verso ancora le acque del mio amore e non mi manca da perdere sempre. Così, a modo d’Indiano, religiosa nel mio errore, adoro il sole che guarda il suo adoratore ma nulla più sa di lui. Mia carissima signora, non lasciate che il vostro odio s’incontri col mio amore per amare dove amate voi; ma se voi stessa, il cui antico onore attesta una virtuosa gioventù, mai in così vera fiamma d’inclinazione desideraste castamente e amaste caramente, sì che la vostra Diana fu insieme sé stessa e Amore, oh allora date pietà a colei la cui condizione è tale che non può scegliere se non prestare e donare dove è certa di perdere, che cerca di trovare non ciò che la sua ricerca implica, ma, a modo di enigma, vive dolcemente là dove muore.
COUNTESS	Non avevi di recente l’intento—dì il vero— d’andare a Parigi?
HELEN	Signora, sì.
COUNTESS	Perché? Dì il vero.
HELEN	Dirò la verità, per la grazia stessa lo giuro. Sapete che mio padre mi lasciò alcune ricette di rari e provati effetti, quali la sua lettura e la manifesta esperienza avevano raccolto per sovrana efficacia generale, e che mi ordinò di custodirle con la più attenta riserva, come scritti le cui facoltà racchiuse erano più di quanto ne apparisse. Fra le altre v’è un rimedio, approvato, registrato, per guarire quei disperati languori per cui il Re è dato per perduto.
COUNTESS	Era questo il tuo motivo per Parigi, era? Parla.
HELEN	Il mio signore vostro figlio me lo fece pensare, altrimenti Parigi e la medicina e il Re dalla conversazione dei miei pensieri sarebbero forse allora stati assenti.
COUNTESS	Ma credi, Elena, che se offrissi il tuo presunto aiuto, egli l’accetterebbe? Lui e i suoi medici sono d’un solo parere: lui, che non possono aiutarlo; essi, che non possono aiutare. Come daran credito a una povera vergine indotta, quando le scuole, sviscerate della loro dottrina, hanno abbandonato il male a sé stesso?
HELEN	C’è in ciò qualcosa più che la perizia di mio padre, che era la maggiore della sua professione: che la sua buona ricetta sia per mia eredità santificata dalle più fortunate stelle del cielo; e se il vostro onore mi concedesse di tentare il successo, arrischierei questa mia vita bene perduta sulla guarigione di sua grazia entro tal giorno, tal ora.
COUNTESS	Lo credi tu?
HELEN	Sì, signora, con piena scienza.
COUNTESS	Ebbene, Elena, avrai il mio congedo e il mio amore, mezzi e servitori, e i miei amorevoli saluti ai miei che sono a corte. Io resterò a casa e pregherò la benedizione di Dio sul tuo tentativo. Parti domani, e sii certa di questo: ciò in cui posso aiutarti, non ti mancherà.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of cornetts. Enter the King carried in a chair, with the two Lords Dumaine, divers young lords taking leave for the Florentine war, and Bertram and Paroles
KING	Farewell, young lords. These warlike principles Do not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell. Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis received, And is enough for both.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	’Tis our hope, sir, After well-entered soldiers, to return And find your grace in health.
KING	No, no, it cannot be—and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords. Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy— Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy—see that you come Not to woo honour but to wed it. When The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud. I say farewell.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Health at your bidding serve your majesty.
KING	Those girls of Italy, take heed of them. They say our French lack language to deny If they demand. Beware of being captives Before you serve.
BOTH LORDS DUMAINE	Our hearts receive your warnings.
KING	Farewell.—Come hither to me.
(didascalia)	Some lords stand aside with the King
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us.
PAROLES	’Tis not his fault, the spark.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	O ’tis brave wars.
PAROLES	Most admirable! I have seen those wars.
BERTRAM	I am commanded here, and kept a coil with ‘Too young’ and ‘the next year’ and ‘’tis too early’.
PAROLES	An thy mind stand to’t, boy, steal away bravely.
BERTRAM	I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with. By heaven, I’ll steal away.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	There’s honour in the theft.
PAROLES	Commit it, Count.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I am your accessary. And so, farewell.
BERTRAM	I grow to you, And our parting is a tortured body.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Farewell, captain.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Sweet Monsieur Paroles.
PAROLES	Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good mettles. You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek. It was this very sword entrenched it. Say to him I live, and observe his reports for me.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	We shall, noble captain.
PAROLES	Mars dote on you for his novices.
(didascalia)	Exeunt both Lords Dumaine
PAROLES	(To Bertram) What will ye do?
BERTRAM	Stay the King.
PAROLES	Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords. You have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star—and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated farewell.
BERTRAM	And I will do so.
PAROLES	Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.
(didascalia)	Exeunt [Bertram and Paroles]
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu to the King
LAFEU	(kneeling) Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.
KING	I’ll fee thee to stand up.
LAFEU	(rising) Then here’s a man stands that has bought his pardon. I would you had kneeled, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so stand up.
KING	I would I had, so I had broke thy pate And asked thee mercy for’t.
LAFEU	Good faith, across! But my good lord, ’tis thus: will you be cured Of your infirmity?
KING	No.
LAFEU	O will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will, My noble grapes, an if my royal fox Could reach them. I have seen a medicine That’s able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pépin, nay, To give great Charlemagne a pen in’s hand, And write to her a love-line.
KING	What ’her’ is this?
LAFEU	Why, Doctor She. My lord, there’s one arrived, If you will see her. Now by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her— For that is her demand—and know her business? That done, laugh well at me.
KING	Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration, that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond‘ring how thou took’st it.
LAFEU	Nay, I’ll fit you, And not be all day neither.
(didascalia)	He goes to the door
KING	Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
LAFEU	(to Helen, within) Nay, come your ways.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen disguised
KING	This haste hath wings indeed.
LAFEU	(to Helen) Nay, come your ways. This is his majesty. Say your mind to him. A traitor you do look like, but such traitors His majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid’s uncle, That dare leave two together. Fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt fall but the King and Helen
KING	Now, fair one, does your business follow us?
HELEN	Ay, my good lord. Gérard de Narbonne was my father; In what he did profess, well found.
KING	I knew him.
HELEN	The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him is enough. On’s bed of death Many receipts he gave me, chiefly one Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience th’only darling, He bade me store up as a triple eye Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so, And hearing your high majesty is touched With that malignant cause wherein the honour no Of my dear father’s gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it and my appliance With all bound humbleness.
KING	We thank you, maiden, But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, and The congregated College have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate. I say we must not So stain our judgement or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.
HELEN	My duty then shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce mine office on you, Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one to bear me back again.
KING	I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful. Thou thought‘st to help me, and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live. But what at full I know, thou know’st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art.
HELEN	What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest ‘gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister. So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown When judges have been babes; great floods have flow’n From simple sources, and great seas have dried. When miracles have by th’ great’st been denied Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.
KING	I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid. Thy pains, not used, must by thyself be paid: Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward.
HELEN	Inspired merit so by breath is barred. It is not so with him that all things knows As ’tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent. Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim, But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power, nor you past cure.
KING	Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop’st thou my cure?
HELEN	The great’st grace lending grace, Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery coacher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quenched her sleepy lamp, Or four-and-twenty times the pilot’s glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
KING	Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar’st thou venture?
HELEN	Tax of impudence, A strumpet’s boldness, a divulged shame; Traduced by odious ballads, my maiden’s name Seared otherwise, nay—worse of worst—extended With vilest torture, let my life be ended.
KING	Methinks in thee some blessèd spirit doth speak, His powerful sound within an organ weak; And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate: Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call. Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die.
HELEN	If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved. Not helping, death’s my fee. But if I help, what do you promise me?
KING	Make thy demand.
HELEN	But will you make it even?
KING	Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.
HELEN	Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.
KING	Here is my hand. The premises observed, Thy will by my performance shall be served. So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust: From whence thou cam’st, how tended on—but rest Unquestioned welcome, and undoubted blessed.— Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt the King, carried, and Helen

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di cornette. Entra il Re portato su una sedia, con i due Signori Dumaine, vari giovani signori che prendono congedo per la guerra fiorentina, e Bertram e Paroles
RE	Addio, giovani signori. Questi principi guerreschi non gettateli via da voi. E voi, miei signori, addio. Dividetevi il consiglio; se entrambi guadagnate tutto, il dono si distende nell’esser ricevuto, e basta per entrambi.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	È nostra speranza, signore, dopo esser stati soldati bene iniziati, di tornare e trovare vostra grazia in salute.
RE	No, no, non può essere—e tuttavia il mio cuore non confessa d’esser debitore del male che assedia la mia vita. Addio, giovani signori. Ch’io viva o muoia, siate voi i figli di degni Francesi; che l’alta Italia— esclusi quelli che ereditano solo la caduta dell’ultima monarchia—veda che venite non a corteggiare l’onore ma a sposarlo. Quando il più valoroso cercatore si ritrae, trovate ciò che cercate, sì che la fama vi acclami forte. Vi dico addio.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	La salute, al vostro comando, serva vostra maestà.
RE	Quelle ragazze d’Italia, guardatevene. Dicono che ai nostri Francesi manca la lingua per negare se esse chiedono. Badate di non esser prigionieri prima di servire.
ENTRAMBI I SIGNORI DUMAINE	I nostri cuori accolgono i vostri avvertimenti.
RE	Addio.—Venite qua a me.
(didascalia)	Alcuni signori si tirano in parte col Re
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Oh mio dolce signore, che vogliate restare dietro a noi.
PAROLES	Non è colpa sua, il bravo giovane.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Oh, è una bella guerra.
PAROLES	Ammirevolissima! Ho visto quelle guerre.
BERTRAM	Qui mi si comanda, e mi si tiene in agitazione con «troppo giovane» e «l’anno venturo» e «è troppo presto».
PAROLES	Se il tuo animo ci sta, ragazzo, fuggi via bravamente.
BERTRAM	Resterò qui cavallo di testa a una gonnella, facendo scricchiolare le scarpe sul liscio pavimento, finché l’onore sia tutto comprato, e non si porti spada se non una per danzare. Per il cielo, fuggirò via.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	C’è onore nel furto.
PAROLES	Commettetelo, Conte.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sono vostro complice. E così, addio.
BERTRAM	Cresco unito a voi, e il nostro separarci è un corpo torturato.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Addio, capitano.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Dolce Monsieur Paroles.
PAROLES	Nobili eroi, la mia spada e le vostre sono parenti. Bravi e lustri giovani, una parola, buoni metalli. Troverete nel reggimento degli Spinii un certo capitano Spurio, con la sua cicatrice, emblema di guerra, qui sulla guancia sinistra. Fu questa stessa spada a inciderla. Ditegli che vivo, e osservate per me i suoi rapporti.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Così faremo, nobile capitano.
PAROLES	Marte vi ami come suoi novizi.
(didascalia)	Escono entrambi i Signori Dumaine
PAROLES	(A Bertram) Che farete?
BERTRAM	Attendere il Re.
PAROLES	Usate una cerimonia più ampia coi nobili signori. Vi siete contenuto nel limite d’un addio troppo freddo. Siate più espansivo con loro, perché essi si portano nel cappello del tempo, là fanno rassegna d’andatura vera; mangiano, parlano e si muovono sotto l’influsso della stella più accreditata—e anche se il diavolo guida la danza, tali si devono seguire. Andate dietro a loro, e prendete un congedo più dilatato.
BERTRAM	E così farò.
PAROLES	Degni compagni, e probabilmente si mostreranno nerbutissimi uomini di spada.
(didascalia)	Escono [Bertram e Paroles]
(didascalia)	Entra Lafeu presso il Re
LAFEU	(inginocchiandosi) Perdono, mio signore, per me e per le mie notizie.
RE	Ti pagherò perché ti alzi.
LAFEU	(alzandosi) Ecco allora un uomo in piedi che s’è comprato il perdono. Vorrei che vi fossi inginocchiato, mio signore, a chiedermi misericordia, e che al mio comando potessi così alzarvi.
RE	Vorrei averlo fatto, purché t’avessi rotto la testa e t’avessi chiesto misericordia per questo.
LAFEU	Buona fede, di traverso! Ma, mio buon signore, sta così: volete esser guarito della vostra infermità?
RE	No.
LAFEU	Oh, non volete mangiare uva, mia regale volpe? Sì che volete, la mia nobile uva, se la mia regale volpe potesse raggiungerla. Ho visto una medicina capace di soffiar vita in una pietra, d’animare una roccia, e di farvi danzare la canary con vivace fuoco e movimento; il cui semplice tocco ha potere di rialzare re Pipino, anzi di dare al grande Carlomagno una penna in mano e di farle scrivere un verso d’amore.
RE	Che «lei» è questa?
LAFEU	Ebbene, il dottor Lei. Mio signore, ne è arrivata una, se volete vederla. Ora, per la mia fede e il mio onore, se posso seriamente trasmettere i miei pensieri in questa mia leggera esposizione, ho parlato con una che, nel suo sesso, nei suoi anni, nella professione, nella saggezza e nella costanza, m’ha stupito più di quanto osi biasimare la mia debolezza. Volete vederla— poiché questa è la sua domanda—e conoscere il suo affare? Fatto ciò, ridete bene di me.
RE	Ora, buon Lafeu, fate entrare la meraviglia, sì che noi con voi possiamo spendere anche il nostro stupore, o togliere il vostro meravigliandoci di come l’abbiate preso.
LAFEU	Anzi, vi accontenterò, e non ci metterò tutto il giorno.
(didascalia)	Va alla porta
RE	Così egli fa sempre prologo al suo speciale nulla.
LAFEU	(a Elena, dentro) Su, venite avanti.
(didascalia)	Entra Elena travestita
RE	Questa fretta ha davvero le ali.
LAFEU	(a Elena) Su, venite avanti. Questa è sua maestà. Ditegli il vostro pensiero. Sembrate una traditrice, ma tali traditrici sua maestà raramente teme. Io sono lo zio di Cressida, che osa lasciare due insieme. Statevi bene.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne il Re ed Elena
RE	Ora, bella, il vostro affare ci segue?
HELEN	Sì, mio buon signore. Gérard de Narbonne era mio padre; in ciò che professò, bene esperto.
RE	Lo conoscevo.
HELEN	Tanto più risparmierò le mie lodi verso di lui; conoscerlo basta. Sul suo letto di morte molte ricette mi diede, e soprattutto una che, come il più caro frutto della sua pratica e unica diletta della sua vecchia esperienza, mi ordinò di custodire come un terzo occhio più sicuro dei miei due, più caro. Così ho fatto, e udendo che vostra alta maestà è tocca da quel maligno male in cui l’onore no del dono del mio caro padre sta primo in potenza, vengo a offrirlo, e con esso la mia opera, con ogni obbligata umiltà.
RE	Vi ringraziamo, fanciulla, ma non possiamo esser così creduli di guarigione, quando i nostri più dotti medici ci abbandonano, e il Collegio congregato ha concluso che l’arte laboriosa non può mai riscattare la natura dal suo stato senza soccorso. Dico che non dobbiamo così macchiare il nostro giudizio né corrompere la nostra speranza, prostituendo il nostro male incurabile agli empirici, o disgiungere così il nostro grande io e il nostro credito, stimando un aiuto insensato, quando l’aiuto giudichiamo fuor di senso.
HELEN	Il mio dovere allora mi ripagherà delle mie pene. Non v’imporrò più il mio servizio, chiedendo umilmente dai vostri regali pensieri uno modesto che mi riporti indietro.
RE	Non posso darti meno, per esser detto grato. Pensasti d’aiutarmi, e tali grazie io rendo quali un uomo vicino alla morte a chi gli augura vita. Ma ciò che io so appieno, tu non ne sai parte; io conoscendo tutto il mio pericolo, tu nessun’arte.
HELEN	Ciò che posso fare non fa danno a provarlo, poiché voi ponete il vostro riposo contro il rimedio. Colui che delle opere più grandi è compitore spesso le compie col ministro più debole. Così la santa scrittura ha mostrato giudizio nei bambini quando i giudici sono stati bambini; grandi fiumi sono sgorgati da fonti semplici, e grandi mari si sono asciugati. Quando i miracoli sono stati negati dai più grandi spesso l’attesa fallisce, e più spesso là dove più promette, e spesso colpisce dove la speranza è più fredda e la disperazione più s’addice.
RE	Non devo ascoltarti. Statti bene, gentile fanciulla. Le tue pene, non usate, da te stessa vanno pagate: le offerte non accolte raccolgono grazie per ricompensa.
HELEN	Così il merito ispirato è sbarrato da un fiato. Non è con colui che tutte le cose conosce come con noi, che misuriamo la congettura dalle apparenze; ma presunzione è in noi soprattutto quando l’aiuto del cielo lo contiamo per atto degli uomini. Caro signore, ai miei sforzi date consenso. Del cielo, non di me, fate esperimento. Non sono un’impostora, che proclami me stessa contro il livello del mio scopo, ma so, credo, e credo di sapere sicurissimamente, che la mia arte non è fuor di potere, né voi fuor di cura.
RE	Sei tanto fiduciosa? In quale spazio speri la mia guarigione?
HELEN	Prestando grazia la più grande grazia, prima che due volte i cavalli del sole rechino al loro igneo cocchiere il suo giro diurno, prima che due volte nel buio e nell’umido occidentale l’umido Espero abbia spento la sua lampada sonnolenta, o ventiquattro volte la clessidra del pilota abbia contato ai minuti ladri il loro passare, ciò che è infermo fuggirà dalle vostre parti sane, la salute vivrà libera, e la malattia liberamente morrà.
RE	Sulla tua certezza e sulla tua fiducia che osi arrischiare?
HELEN	L’accusa d’impudenza, l’audacia d’una sgualdrina, una vergogna divulgata; diffamato da odiose ballate il mio nome di vergine, marchiato d’altro modo, anzi—peggio del peggio—stesa con vilissima tortura, sia finita la mia vita.
RE	Mi pare che in te parli qualche spirito benedetto, il suo suono potente in un organo debole; e ciò che l’impossibilità ucciderebbe nel senso comune, il senso salva per altra via. La tua vita è cara, perché tutto ciò che la vita può valutare degno del nome di vita in te ha estimo: gioventù, bellezza, saggezza, coraggio, tutto ciò che la felicità e il fiore dell’età possono dir felice. Arrischiar questo deve per forza far intendere perizia infinita, o mostruosa disperazione. Dolce operatrice, proverò la tua medicina, che amministra la tua stessa morte se io muoio.
HELEN	Se rompo il tempo, o vengo meno nella proprietà di ciò che ho detto, ch’io muoia senza pietà, e bene meritato. Se non giovo, la morte è il mio salario. Ma se giovo, che mi promettete?
RE	Fa’ la tua domanda.
HELEN	Ma la manterrete pari?
RE	Sì, per il mio scettro e le mie speranze di cielo.
HELEN	Allora mi darai con la tua mano regale quel marito che, in tuo potere, io comanderò. Sia esente da me l’arroganza di scegliere dal regale sangue di Francia, per propagare il mio basso e umile nome con qualche ramo o immagine del tuo stato; ma uno tale, tuo vassallo, che io sappia esser libero per me di chiedere, per te di concedere.
RE	Ecco la mia mano. Osservate le premesse, la tua volontà sarà servita dalla mia esecuzione. Fa’ dunque la scelta del tuo proprio tempo, perché io, tuo paziente risoluto, sempre in te confido. Più dovrei interrogarti, e più devo, benché saper di più non potesse esser fidarsi di più: di dove venisti, come accompagnata—ma sii benvenuta senza domande, e benedetta senza dubbio.— Datemi qualche aiuto qui, olà! Se procedi tanto alto quanto la parola, il mio fatto pareggerà il tuo fatto.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono il Re, portato, ed Elena

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess and Lavatch the clown
COUNTESS	Come on, sir. I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.
LAVATCH	I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court.
COUNTESS	‘To the court’? Why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? ‘But to the court’!
LAVATCH	Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap, and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court. But for me, I have an answer will serve all men.
COUNTESS	Marry, that’s a bountiful answer that fits all questions.
LAVATCH	It is like a barber’s chair that fits all buttocks: the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.
COUNTESS	Will your answer serve fit to all questions?
LAVATCH	As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May Day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun’s lip to the friar’s mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin.
COUNTESS	Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
LAVATCH	From beyond your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
COUNTESS	It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands.
LAVATCH	But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to’t. Ask me if I am a courtier. It shall do you no harm to learn.
COUNTESS	To be young again, if we could! I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—There’s a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them.
COUNTESS	Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Thick, thick, spare not me.
COUNTESS	I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Nay, put me to’t, I warrant you.
COUNTESS	You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Spare not me.
COUNTESS	Do you cry ‘O Lord, sir!’ at your whipping, and ‘spare not me’? Indeed, your ‘O Lord, sir!’ is very sequent to your whipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to’t.
LAVATCH	I ne‘er had worse luck in my life in my ‘O Lord, sir!’ I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.
COUNTESS	I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.
LAVATCH	O Lord, sir!—Why, there’t serves well again. COUNTESS An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this, She gives him a letter And urge her to a present answer back. Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much.
LAVATCH	Not much commendation to them?
COUNTESS	Not much employment for you. You understand me.
LAVATCH	Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs.
COUNTESS	Haste you again.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Contessa e Lavatch il buffone
COUNTESS	Avanti, messere. Ora ti metterò al colmo della tua educazione.
LAVATCH	Mi mostrerò altamente nutrito e bassamente istruito. So che il mio affare è soltanto per la corte.
COUNTESS	«Per la corte»? Come, quale luogo tieni per speciale, se congedi quello con tanto disprezzo? «Soltanto per la corte»!
LAVATCH	In verità, signora, se Dio ha prestato a un uomo qualche buona maniera, egli può facilmente sbarazzarsene a corte. Chi non sa fare un inchino, levarsi il cappello, baciarsi la mano e non dir nulla, non ha né gamba, né mani, né labbro, né cappello; e in verità un tale, a dirla precisamente, non sarebbe fatto per la corte. Ma quanto a me, ho una risposta che servirà a tutti gli uomini.
COUNTESS	Davvero, è una risposta generosa quella che s’adatta a tutte le domande.
LAVATCH	È come la sedia d’un barbiere che s’adatta a tutte le natiche: la natica a spillo, la natica schiacciata, la natica polposa, o qualunque natica.
COUNTESS	La tua risposta s’adatterà a tutte le domande?
LAVATCH	Adatta come dieci grossi per la mano d’un avvocato, come la vostra corona francese per la vostra sgualdrina di taffetà, come il giunco di Tib per l’indice di Tom, come una frittella per il martedì grasso, una morisca per il Calendimaggio, come il chiodo al suo buco, il cornuto al suo corno, come una megera brontolona a un furfante litigioso, come il labbro della monaca alla bocca del frate, anzi come il sanguinaccio alla sua pelle.
COUNTESS	Hai, dico, una risposta di tale adattezza per tutte le domande?
LAVATCH	Da oltre il vostro duca a sotto il vostro conestabile, s’adatterà a qualunque domanda.
COUNTESS	Dev’essere una risposta di mostruosissima taglia quella che deve adattarsi a ogni richiesta.
LAVATCH	Ma è anche una bagattella, in buona fede, se i dotti ne dicessero la verità. Eccola qui, e tutto ciò che le appartiene. Chiedetemi se sono un cortigiano. Non vi farà male impararlo.
COUNTESS	Esser giovani di nuovo, se potessimo! Farò la sciocca nel domandare, sperando d’esser più saggia per la tua risposta. Ti prego, messere, sei tu un cortigiano?
LAVATCH	Oh Signore, signore!—Ecco un semplice sbarazzarsene. Ancora, ancora, cento di queste.
COUNTESS	Messere, sono una vostra povera amica che vi ama.
LAVATCH	Oh Signore, signore!—Fitto, fitto, non risparmiatemi.
COUNTESS	Credo, messere, che tu non possa mangiare nulla di questa rozza vivanda.
LAVATCH	Oh Signore, signore!—Su, mettetemi alla prova, ve lo garantisco.
COUNTESS	Sei stato frustato di recente, messere, a quel che credo.
LAVATCH	Oh Signore, signore!—Non risparmiatemi.
COUNTESS	Gridi «Oh Signore, signore!» quando ti frustano, e «non risparmiatemi»? In verità il tuo «Oh Signore, signore!» segue proprio da presso la tua frustata. Risponderesti bene a una frustata, se solo vi fossi legato.
LAVATCH	Mai in vita mia ebbi peggior fortuna col mio «Oh Signore, signore!» Vedo che le cose possono servire a lungo, ma non servire sempre.
COUNTESS	Faccio la nobile massaia col tempo, a intrattenerlo così allegramente con un buffone.
LAVATCH	Oh Signore, signore!—Ecco, là serve bene di nuovo. CONTESSA Basta, messere! Al tuo affare: da’ a Elena questo, Gli dà una lettera e sollecitala a una risposta immediata. Raccomandami ai miei parenti e a mio figlio. Non è molto.
LAVATCH	Non molte raccomandazioni a loro?
COUNTESS	Non molta fatica per te. Mi capisci.
LAVATCH	Fruttuosissimamente. Sono là prima delle mie gambe.
COUNTESS	Affrettati a tornare.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram, Lafeu with a ballad], and Paroles
LAFEU	They say miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
PAROLES	Why, ’tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times.
BERTRAM	And so ’tis.
LAFEU	To be relinquished of the artists—
PAROLES	So I say—both of Galen and Paracelsus.
LAFEU	Of all the learned and authentic Fellows—
PAROLES	Right, so I say.
LAFEU	That gave him out incurable—
PAROLES	Why, there ’tis, so say I too.
LAFEU	Not to be helped.
PAROLES	Right, as ’twere a man assured of a—
LAFEU	Uncertain life and sure death.
PAROLES	Just, you say well, so would I have said.
LAFEU	I may truly say it is a novelty to the world.
PAROLES	It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in [pointing to the ballad] what-do-ye-call there.
(didascalia)	LAFEU reads ‘A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.’
PAROLES	That’s it, I would have said the very same.
LAFEU	Why, your dolphin is not lustier. Fore me, I speak in respect—
PAROLES	Nay, ‘tis strange, ’tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it, and he’s of a most facinorous spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the—
LAFEU	Very hand of heaven.
PAROLES	Ay, so I say.
LAFEU	In a most weak—
PAROLES	And debile minister great power, great transcendence, which should indeed give us a further use to be made than alone the recov’ry of the king, as to be—
LAFEU	Generally thankful.
(didascalia)	Enter the King, Helen, and attendants
PAROLES	I would have said it, you say well. Here comes the King.
LAFEU	Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I’ll like a maid the better whilst I have a tooth in my head.
(didascalia)	The King and Helen dance
LAFEU	Why, he’s able to lead her a coranto.
PAROLES	Mort du vinaigre, is not this Helen?
LAFEU	Fore God, I think so.
KING	Go call before me all the lords in court.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING	Sit, my preserver, by thy patient’s side,
(didascalia)	The King and Helen sit]
KING	And with this healthful hand whose banished sense Thou hast repealed, a second time receive The confirmation of my promised gift, Which but attends thy naming.
(didascalia)	Enter four Lords
KING	Fair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcel Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s voice I have to use. Thy frank election make. Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.
HELEN	To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall when love please. Marry, to each but one.
LAFEU	(aside) I’d give bay Curtal and his furniture My mouth no more were broken than these boys’, And writ as little beard.
KING	(to Helen) Peruse them well. Not one of these but had a noble father.
HELEN	Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restored the King to health.
(didascalia)	ALL BUT HELEN]
HELEN	We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
HELEN	I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest That I protest I simply am a maid.— Please it your majesty, I have done already. The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me: ‘We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever, We’ll ne’er come there again.’
KING	Make choice and see. Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.
HELEN	(rising) Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream.
(didascalia)	She addresses her to a Lord]
HELEN	Sir, will you hear my suit?
FIRST LORD	And grant it.
HELEN	Thanks, sir. All the rest is mute.
LAFEU	(aside) I had rather be in this choice than throw ambs-ace for my life.
HELEN	(to another Lord) The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threat’ningly replies. Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love.
SECOND LORD	No better, if you please.
HELEN	My wish receive, Which great Love grant. And so I take my leave.
LAFEU	(aside) Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I’d have them whipped, or I would send them to th’ Turk to make eunuchs of.
HELEN	(to another Lord) Be not afraid that I your hand should take; I’ll never do you wrong for your own sake. Blessing upon your vows, and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed.
LAFEU	(aside) These boys are boys of ice, they’ll none have her. Sure they are bastards to the English, the French ne‘er got ’em.
HELEN	(to another Lord) You are too young, too happy, and too good To make yourself a son out of my blood.
FOURTH LORD	Fair one, I think not so.
LAFEU	(aside) There’s one grape yet. I am sure thy father drunk wine, but if thou beest not an ass I am a youth of fourteen. I have known thee already.
HELEN	(to Bertram) I dare not say I take you, but I give Me and my service ever whilst I live Into your guiding power.—This is the man.
KING	Why then, young Bertram, take her, she’s thy wife.
BERTRAM	My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes.
KING	Know’st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me?
BERTRAM	Yes, my good lord, But never hope to know why I should marry her.
KING	Thou know’st she has raised me from my sickly bed.
BERTRAM	But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father’s charge. A poor physician’s daughter, my wife? Disdain Rather corrupt me ever.
KING	‘Tis only title thou disdain’st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, poured all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stands off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous, save what thou distik’st— ‘A poor physician’s daughter’—thou dislik’st Of virtue for the name. But do not so. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th’ doer’s deed. Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone Is good without a name, vileness is so: The property by what it is should go, Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair. In these to nature she’s immediate heir, And these breed honour. That is honour’s scorn Which challenges itself as honour’s born And is not like the sire; honours thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers. The mere word’s a slave, Debauched on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb Where dust and dammed oblivion is the tomb Of honoured bones indeed. What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest. Virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.
BERTRAM	I cannot love her, nor will strive to do’t.
KING	Thou wrong’st thyself. If thou shouldst strive to choose—
HELEN	That you are well restored, my lord, I’m glad. Let the rest go.
KING	My honour’s at the stake, which to defeat I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, Proud, scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; Obey our will, which travails in thy good; Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims, Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance, both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee in the name of justice Without all terms of pity. Speak. Thine answer. BERTRAM) (kneeling) Pardon, my gracious lord, for I submit My fancy to your eyes. When I consider What great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now The praised of the King; who, so ennobled, Is as ’twere born so.
KING	Take her by the hand And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate A balance more replete.
BERTRAM	(rising) I take her hand.
KING	Good fortune and the favour of the King Smile upon this contract, whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be performed tonight. The solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov’st her Thy love’s to me religious; else, does err.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but Paroles and Lafeu, who stay behind, commenting on this wedding
LAFEU	Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. PAROLES Your pleasure, sir.
LAFEU	Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.
PAROLES	Recantation? My lord? My master?
LAFEU	Ay. Is it not a language I speak?
PAROLES	A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master?
LAFEU	Are you companion to the Count Roussillon?
PAROLES	To any count, to all counts, to what is man.
LAFEU	To what is count’s man; count’s master is of another style.
PAROLES	You are too old, sir. Let it satisfy you, you are too old.
LAFEU	I must tell thee, sirrah, I write ‘Man’, to which title age cannot bring thee.
PAROLES	What I dare too well do I dare not do.
LAFEU	I did think thee for two ordinaries to be a pretty wise fellow. Thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass. Yet the scarves and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again I care not. Yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou’rt scarce worth.
PAROLES	Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee—
LAFEU	Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial, which if—Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well. Thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. 216
PAROLES	My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
LAFEU	Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. PAROLES I have not, my lord, deserved it.
LAFEU	Yes, good faith, every dram of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple.
PAROLES	Well, I shall be wiser.
LAFEU	E‘en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o’th’ contrary. If ever thou beest bound in thy scarf and beaten thou shall find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, ‘He is a man I know’.
PAROLES	My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
LAFEU	I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. Exit
PAROLES	Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me. Scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord. Well, I must be patient. There is no fettering of authority. I’ll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I’ll have no more pity of his age than I would have of—I’ll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu
LAFEU	Sirrah, your lord and master’s married. There’s news for you: you have a new mistress.
PAROLES	I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord; whom I serve above is my master.
LAFEU	Who? God?
PAROLES	Ay, sir.
LAFEU	The devil it is that’s thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger I’d beat thee. Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.
PAROLES	This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
LAFEU	Go to, sir. You were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate, you are a vagabond and no true traveller, you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave. I leave you.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	Good, very good, it is so then. Good, very good, let it be concealed awhile. [Enter Bertram]
BERTRAM	Undone and forfeited to cares for ever.
PAROLES	What’s the matter, sweetheart?
BERTRAM	Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her.
PAROLES	What, what, sweetheart?
BERTRAM	O my Paroles, they have married me. I’ll to the Tuscan wars and never bed her.
PAROLES	France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man’s foot. To th’ wars!
BERTRAM	There’s letters from my mother. What th’import is I know not yet.
PAROLES	Ay, that would be known. To th’ wars, my boy, to th’ wars! 275 He wears his honour in a box unseen That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars’s fiery steed. To other regions! France is a stable, we that dwell in’t jades. Therefore to th’ war.
BERTRAM	It shall be so. I’ll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled, write to the King That which I durst not speak. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellows strike. Wars is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife.
PAROLES	Will this capriccio hold in thee? Art sure?
BERTRAM	Go with me to my chamber and advise me. I’ll send her straight away. Tomorrow I’ll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
PAROLES	Why, these balls bound, there’s noise in it. ‘Tis hard: A young man married is a man that’s marred. Therefore away, and leave her bravely. Go. The King has done you wrong, but hush ’tis so.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Bertram, Lafeu con una ballata], e Paroles
LAFEU	Dicono che i miracoli sono finiti, e abbiamo i nostri uomini filosofici per rendere le cose moderne e familiari sovrannaturali e senza causa. Da ciò viene che facciamo bagattelle dei terrori, rincantucciandoci in una parvenza di sapere quando dovremmo sottometterci a una paura ignota.
PAROLES	Ebbene, è il più raro argomento di meraviglia che sia germogliato nei nostri ultimi tempi.
BERTRAM	E così è.
LAFEU	Esser abbandonato dagli artisti—
PAROLES	Così dico io—sia di Galeno che di Paracelso.
LAFEU	Di tutti i dotti e autentici Membri del Collegio—
PAROLES	Giusto, così dico io.
LAFEU	Che lo dichiararono incurabile—
PAROLES	Ecco, appunto, così dico anch’io.
LAFEU	Da non potersi soccorrere.
PAROLES	Giusto, come fosse un uomo sicuro d’una—
LAFEU	Vita incerta e morte certa.
PAROLES	Esatto, dite bene, così avrei detto io.
LAFEU	Posso dire in verità che è una novità per il mondo.
PAROLES	Lo è davvero. Se volete averlo per iscritto, lo leggerete in [indicando la ballata] quel-come-si-chiama là.
(didascalia)	LAFEU legge «Esposizione d’un effetto celeste in un agente terreno.»
PAROLES	Proprio così, avrei detto la stessissima cosa.
LAFEU	Ebbene, il vostro delfino non è più gagliardo. Perbacco, parlo con rispetto—
PAROLES	Anzi, è strano, è stranissimo, questo è il breve e il tedioso della cosa, e ha uno spirito facinorosissimo chi non vorrà riconoscere che sia la—
LAFEU	Vera mano del cielo.
PAROLES	Sì, così dico io.
LAFEU	In un debolissimo—
PAROLES	E debile ministro, gran potenza, gran trascendenza, che dovrebbe in verità darci un uso ulteriore da farsene che non soltanto la guarigione del re, come l’essere—
LAFEU	Generalmente riconoscenti.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Re, Elena e gli attendenti
PAROLES	L’avrei detto io, dite bene. Ecco viene il Re.
LAFEU	Lustig, come dice il Tedesco. Amerò le fanciulle tanto più finché avrò un dente in bocca.
(didascalia)	Il Re ed Elena danzano
LAFEU	Ebbene, è capace di guidarla in una corranta.
PAROLES	Mort du vinaigre, non è questa Elena?
LAFEU	Per Dio, credo di sì.
RE	Andate a chiamare davanti a me tutti i signori di corte.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
RE	Siedi, mia salvatrice, al fianco del tuo paziente,
(didascalia)	Il Re ed Elena siedono]
RE	E con questa mano risanata, il cui senso esiliato tu hai richiamato, ricevi una seconda volta la conferma del mio dono promesso, che attende solo che tu nomini.
(didascalia)	Entrano quattro Signori
RE	Bella fanciulla, manda fuori il tuo sguardo. Questo giovane gruppo di nobili scapoli sta a mia disposizione, su cui posso usare sia il potere sovrano sia la voce di padre. Fa’ la tua libera elezione. Tu hai potere di scegliere, ed essi nessuno di rifiutare.
HELEN	A ciascuno di voi una bella e virtuosa signora tocchi quando amore piaccia. Ma sì, a ciascuno una sola.
LAFEU	(a parte) Darei il baio Curtal e i suoi arnesi perché la mia bocca non fosse più sdentata di quella di questi ragazzi, e scrivessi altrettanto poca barba.
RE	(a Elena) Esaminali bene. Non uno di questi che non abbia avuto un nobile padre.
HELEN	Signori, il cielo per mio mezzo ha restituito il Re alla salute.
(didascalia)	TUTTI TRANNE HELEN]
HELEN	Lo comprendiamo, e ringraziamo il cielo per voi.
HELEN	Sono una semplice fanciulla, e in ciò più ricca, che protesto d’essere semplicemente fanciulla.— Piaccia a vostra maestà, ho già finito. I rossori nelle mie guance così mi sussurrano: «Arrossiamo che tu debba scegliere; ma, se sei rifiutata, segga per sempre sulla tua guancia la bianca morte, noi non torneremo più là.»
RE	Fa’ la scelta e vedi. Chi fugge il tuo amore fugge tutto il suo amore in me.
HELEN	(alzandosi) Ora, Diana, dal tuo altare io fuggo, e all’imperiale Amore, quel dio altissimo, fluiscono i miei sospiri.
(didascalia)	Ella si rivolge a un Signore]
HELEN	Signore, volete udire la mia domanda?
PRIMO SIGNORE	E accordarla.
HELEN	Grazie, signore. Tutto il resto è muto.
LAFEU	(a parte) Preferirei essere in questa scelta che gettare doppio asso per la mia vita.
HELEN	(a un altro Signore) L’onore, signore, che fiammeggia nei vostri begli occhi, prima ch’io parli, risponde troppo minaccioso. Amore renda le vostre fortune venti volte sopra colei che così v’augura, e il suo umile amore.
SECONDO SIGNORE	Non miglior sorte, se vi piace.
HELEN	Ricevete il mio augurio, che il grande Amore l’accordi. E così prendo congedo.
LAFEU	(a parte) La rifiutano tutti? Se fossero figli miei li farei frustare, o li manderei al Turco perché ne facesse eunuchi.
HELEN	(a un altro Signore) Non temete ch’io prenda la vostra mano; non vi farò mai torto, per il vostro bene. Benedizione sui vostri voti, e nel vostro letto trovate più bella fortuna, se mai vi sposate.
LAFEU	(a parte) Questi ragazzi sono ragazzi di ghiaccio, nessuno la vuole. Certo sono bastardi degli Inglesi, i Francesi non li han generati.
HELEN	(a un altro Signore) Siete troppo giovane, troppo felice e troppo buono per farvi un figlio dal mio sangue.
QUARTO SIGNORE	Bella, non credo così.
LAFEU	(a parte) Ecco ancora un acino. Son certo che tuo padre bevve vino, ma se tu non sei un asino io sono un giovinetto di quattordici anni. Ti conosco già.
HELEN	(a Bertram) Non oso dire che vi prendo, ma dono me stessa e il mio servizio, sempre finché vivo, al vostro potere di guida.—Questo è l’uomo.
RE	Ebbene allora, giovane Bertram, prendila, è tua moglie.
BERTRAM	Mia moglie, mio sovrano? Supplicherò vostra altezza, in un tale affare, di concedermi d’usare l’aiuto dei miei propri occhi.
RE	Non sai, Bertram, ciò che ha fatto per me?
BERTRAM	Sì, mio buon signore, ma non spero mai di sapere perché dovrei sposarla.
RE	Sai che m’ha rialzato dal mio letto d’infermo.
BERTRAM	Ma segue, mio signore, che l’abbassarmi debba rispondere del vostro rialzarvi? La conosco bene: fu allevata a spese di mio padre. La figlia d’un povero medico, mia moglie? Piuttosto mi corrompa il disdegno per sempre.
RE	È solo il titolo che disdegni in lei, il quale io posso edificare. Strano è che i nostri sangui, di colore, peso e calore, versati tutti insieme, confonderebbero del tutto ogni distinzione, e pure stanno separati in differenze così potenti. Se ella è tutto ciò che è virtuoso, salvo ciò che tu disdegni— «la figlia d’un povero medico»—tu disdegni la virtù per il nome. Ma non far così. Quando da luogo più basso procedono cose virtuose, il luogo è nobilitato dall’atto di chi lo compie. Dove grandi aggiunte gonfiano, e virtù nessuna, è un onore idropico. Il bene solo è bene senza nome, e così la viltà: la proprietà deve valere per ciò che è, non per il titolo. Ella è giovane, saggia, bella. In queste cose è erede immediata della natura, e queste generano onore. È scherno dell’onore ciò che si pretende nato dall’onore e non somiglia al padre; gli onori prosperano quando piuttosto dai nostri atti li deriviamo che dai nostri antenati. La mera parola è schiava, prostituita su ogni tomba, su ogni sepolcro un trofeo mendace, e altrettanto spesso è muta dove polvere e dannato oblio sono la tomba d’ossa veramente onorate. Che si dovrebbe dire? Se tu puoi gradire questa creatura come fanciulla, io posso creare il resto. La virtù ed ella sono la sua propria dote; onore e ricchezza da me.
BERTRAM	Non posso amarla, né mi sforzerò di farlo.
RE	Fai torto a te stesso. Se ti sforzassi di scegliere—
HELEN	Che voi siate bene risanato, mio signore, me ne rallegro. Lasciate andare il resto.
RE	Il mio onore è in gioco, e per non perderlo devo produrre il mio potere. Qua, prendile la mano, ragazzo superbo e sdegnoso, indegno di questo buon dono, tu che in vile misconoscimento incateni il mio amore e il suo merito; tu che non puoi sognare che noi, ponendoci sul suo piatto difettoso, ti solleveremo fino alla stanga; tu che non vuoi sapere ch’è in noi piantare il tuo onore dove ci piaccia farlo crescere. Frena il tuo disprezzo; obbedisci alla nostra volontà, che s’adopera per il tuo bene; non credere al tuo disdegno, ma subito rendi alla tua stessa fortuna quel diritto obbediente che il tuo dovere deve e il nostro potere reclama, o ti scaccerò per sempre dalla mia cura nel barcollamento e nella noncurante caduta di gioventù e ignoranza, sciogliendo la mia vendetta e il mio odio su di te in nome della giustizia senza alcun termine di pietà. Parla. La tua risposta. BERTRAM) (inginocchiandosi) Perdono, mio grazioso signore, poiché sottometto la mia inclinazione ai vostri occhi. Quando considero quale grande creazione e quale distribuzione d’onore volano dove voi comandate, trovo che colei che poc’anzi era nei miei più nobili pensieri vilissima, è ora la lodata del Re; la quale, così nobilitata, è come se fosse nata tale.
RE	Prendila per la mano e dille che è tua; a lei prometto un contrappeso, se non pari al tuo stato una bilancia più ricolma.
BERTRAM	(alzandosi) Prendo la sua mano.
RE	Buona fortuna e il favore del Re sorridano a questo contratto, la cui cerimonia sarà spedita sul breve appena nato, e si compirà questa notte. Il solenne banchetto attenderà lo spazio a venire, aspettando gli amici assenti. Se tu l’ami, il tuo amore verso me è religioso; altrimenti, erra.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono tutti tranne Paroles e Lafeu, che restano indietro a commentare queste nozze
LAFEU	Sentite, monsieur? Una parola con voi. PAROLES A vostro piacere, signore.
LAFEU	Il vostro signore e padrone ha fatto bene a ritrattare.
PAROLES	Ritrattazione? Il mio signore? Il mio padrone?
LAFEU	Sì. Non è una lingua quella che parlo?
PAROLES	Assai aspra, e da non intendersi senza sanguinoso seguito. Il mio padrone?
LAFEU	Siete compagno del conte di Rossiglione?
PAROLES	Di qualunque conte, di tutti i conti, di ciò che è uomo.
LAFEU	Di ciò che è l’uomo del conte; il padrone del conte è d’altro stile.
PAROLES	Siete troppo vecchio, signore. Vi basti questo: siete troppo vecchio.
LAFEU	Devo dirti, messere, che io mi firmo «Uomo», titolo al quale l’età non può portarti.
PAROLES	Ciò che oso troppo bene, non oso farlo.
LAFEU	Ti credetti, per due pasti, un tipo abbastanza saggio. Facesti tollerabile sfoggio dei tuoi viaggi; poteva passare. Pure le sciarpe e le bandierine addosso a te mi dissuasero in molti modi dal crederti un vascello di troppo gran portata. Ora t’ho scoperto; quando ti perderò di nuovo non m’importerà. Pure non sei buono a nulla se non a esser raccolto, e a quello vali appena.
PAROLES	Se non avessi su di te il privilegio dell’antichità—
LAFEU	Non t’immergere troppo nell’ira, per non affrettare la tua prova, la quale se—il Signore abbia misericordia di te, gallina che sei! Così, mia buona finestra a graticcio, statti bene. Non ho bisogno d’aprire la tua imposta, perché guardo attraverso di te. Dammi la mano. 216
PAROLES	Mio signore, mi date un’indegnità egregissima.
LAFEU	Sì, con tutto il cuore, e ne sei degno. PAROLES Non l’ho meritata, mio signore.
LAFEU	Sì, in buona fede, ogni dramma, e non ti scalerò uno scrupolo.
PAROLES	Bene, sarò più saggio.
LAFEU	Il più presto che puoi, perché hai da tirare una bella sorsata del contrario. Se mai sarai legato con la tua sciarpa e battuto, scoprirai che cos’è essere orgoglioso della propria schiavitù. Ho desiderio di mantenere la mia conoscenza con te, o piuttosto la mia notizia di te, perché possa dire, in mancanza d’altro: «È un uomo che conosco».
PAROLES	Mio signore, mi fate una vessazione insopportabilissima.
LAFEU	Vorrei che fossero pene infernali, per il tuo bene, e il mio povero operare eterno; perché quanto all’operare, sono ormai passato, come passerò accanto a te, con quel moto che l’età mi concederà. Esce
PAROLES	Bene, hai un figlio che mi toglierà questo disonore. Vile, vecchio, sporco, vile signore. Bene, devo esser paziente. Non si può incatenare l’autorità. Lo batterò, per la mia vita, se posso incontrarlo con qualche comodità, fosse pure due e due volte signore. Non avrò più pietà della sua età di quanta ne avrei di—lo batterò, se solo potessi incontrarlo di nuovo.
(didascalia)	Entra Lafeu
LAFEU	Messere, il vostro signore e padrone è sposato. Ecco notizie per voi: avete una nuova padrona.
PAROLES	Supplico senza infingimenti vostra signoria di fare qualche riserva delle vostre offese. Egli è il mio buon signore; colui che servo là sopra è il mio padrone.
LAFEU	Chi? Dio?
PAROLES	Sì, signore.
LAFEU	È il diavolo il tuo padrone. Perché ti leghi le braccia a quel modo? Fai calze delle tue maniche? Fanno così gli altri servi? Faresti meglio a metter la parte bassa dove sta il tuo naso. Per il mio onore, se fossi solo di due ore più giovane ti batterei. Mi sembra che tu sia un’offesa generale, e che ogni uomo dovrebbe batterti. Credo che tu sia stato creato perché gli uomini si sfoghino su di te.
PAROLES	Questa è misura dura e immeritata, mio signore.
LAFEU	Andiamo, signore. Fosti battuto in Italia per aver rubato un granello da una melagrana; sei un vagabondo e non un vero viaggiatore; sei più insolente coi signori e con le persone onorevoli di quanto la patente della tua nascita e della tua virtù ti dia diritto d’araldica. Non vali un’altra parola, altrimenti ti chiamerei furfante. Ti lascio.
(didascalia)	Esce
PAROLES	Bene, benissimo, sta così dunque. Bene, benissimo, si tenga celato per un poco. [Entra Bertram]
BERTRAM	Perduto e consegnato per sempre agli affanni.
PAROLES	Che c’è, cuor mio?
BERTRAM	Sebbene davanti al solenne sacerdote abbia giurato, non la porterò a letto.
PAROLES	Che, che, cuor mio?
BERTRAM	Oh mio Paroles, m’hanno ammogliato. Andrò alle guerre toscane e non la porterò mai a letto.
PAROLES	La Francia è un canile, e non merita più il calpestio d’un piede d’uomo. Alle guerre!
BERTRAM	Ci sono lettere di mia madre. Che cosa contengano non so ancora.
PAROLES	Sì, questo si vorrebbe sapere. Alle guerre, ragazzo mio, alle guerre! 275 Porta il suo onore in una scatola, invisibile, chi qui a casa abbraccia la sua cocca, spendendo il suo virile midollo nelle braccia di lei, che dovrebbero sostenere il balzo e l’alta corvetta dell’igneo destriero di Marte. Ad altre regioni! La Francia è una stalla, e noi che vi abitiamo ronzini. Perciò alla guerra.
BERTRAM	Sarà così. La manderò alla mia casa, informerò mia madre del mio odio per lei, e del perché sono fuggito; scriverò al Re ciò che non osai dire. Il suo dono presente mi fornirà per quei campi italiani dove colpiscono nobili compagni. La guerra non è contesa rispetto alla casa tenebrosa e alla moglie detestata.
PAROLES	Terrà in te questo capriccio? Sei sicuro?
BERTRAM	Vieni con me nella mia camera e consigliami. La manderò via subito. Domani io alle guerre, lei al suo solitario dolore.
PAROLES	Ecco, queste palle rimbalzano, c’è del fracasso. È duro: un giovane ammogliato è un uomo guastato. Perciò via, e lasciala bravamente. Va’. Il Re t’ha fatto torto, ma zitto, sta così.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen reading a letter, and Lavatch the clown
HELEN	My mother greets me kindly. Is she well?
LAVATCH	She is not well, but yet she has her health. She’s very merry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given she’s very well and wants nothing i’th’ world. But yet she is not well.
HELEN	If she be very well, what does she ail That she’s not very well?
LAVATCH	Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for two things. HELEN What two things?
LAVATCH	One, that she’s not in heaven, whither God send her quickly. The other, that she’s in earth, from whence God send her quickly.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
PAROLES	Bless you, my fortunate lady.
HELEN	I hope, sir, I have your good will to have Mine own good fortunes. 15
PAROLES	You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on have them stitt.—O my knave, how does my old lady?
LAVATCH	So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say.
PAROLES	Why, I say nothing.
LAVATCH	Marry, you are the wiser man, for many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing.
PAROLES	Away, thou’rt a knave.
LAVATCH	You should have said, sir, ‘Before a knave, thou’rt a knave‘—that’s ‘Before me, thou‘rt a knave’. This had been truth, sir.
PAROLES	Go to, thou art a witty fool. I have found thee.
LAVATCH	Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find me?
(didascalia)	PAROLES In myself, knave.
LAVATCH	The search, sir, was profitable, and much fool may you find in you, even to the world’s pleasure and the increase of laughter.
PAROLES	(to Helen) A good knave, i’faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away tonight. A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which as your due time claims, he does acknowledge, But puts it off to a compelled restraint: Whose want and whose delay is strewed with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy, And pleasure drown the brim.
HELEN	What’s his will else?
PAROLES	That you will take your instant leave o’th’ King, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthened with what apology you think May make it probable need.
HELEN	What more commands he?
PAROLES	That having this obtained, you presently Attend his further pleasure.
HELEN	In everything I wait upon his will.
PAROLES	I shall report it so.
HELEN	I pray you.
(didascalia)	Exit Paroles at one door]
HELEN	Come, sirrah.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Fat another door]

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Elena leggendo una lettera, e Lavatch il buffone
HELEN	Mia madre mi saluta con affetto. Sta bene?
LAVATCH	Non sta bene, eppure ha la sua salute. È molto allegra, eppure non sta bene. Ma grazie al cielo sta molto bene e non le manca nulla al mondo. Eppure non sta bene.
HELEN	Se sta molto bene, di che soffre da non stare molto bene?
LAVATCH	In verità sta proprio molto bene, se non per due cose. HELEN Quali due cose?
LAVATCH	Una, che non è in cielo, dove Dio la mandi presto. L’altra, che è in terra, da dove Dio la mandi via presto.
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles
PAROLES	Dio vi benedica, mia fortunata signora.
HELEN	Spero, signore, d’avere il vostro buon volere per avere le mie proprie buone fortune. 15
PAROLES	Avete avuto le mie preghiere per condurle avanti, e per mantenerle tenetele stitt.—Oh mio furfante, come sta la mia vecchia signora?
LAVATCH	Purché voi aveste le sue rughe e io il suo denaro, vorrei che stesse come dite.
PAROLES	Ma io non dico nulla.
LAVATCH	Davvero, siete l’uomo più saggio, perché la lingua di molti uomini scuote fuori la rovina del padrone. Non dir nulla, non far nulla, non saper nulla e non aver nulla, è una gran parte del vostro titolo, che è a un pelo dal nulla.
PAROLES	Via, sei un furfante.
LAVATCH	Avreste dovuto dire, signore: «Davanti a un furfante, sei un furfante»—cioè «davanti a me, sei un furfante». Questa sarebbe stata verità, signore.
PAROLES	Andiamo, sei un buffone spiritoso. T’ho scoperto.
LAVATCH	M’avete scoperto in voi stesso, signore, o vi fu insegnato a scoprirmi?
(didascalia)	PAROLES In me stesso, furfante.
LAVATCH	La ricerca, signore, fu profittevole, e molta follia possiate trovare in voi, a piacere del mondo e ad accrescimento del riso.
PAROLES	(a Elena) Un buon furfante, in fede mia, e bene nutrito. Signora, il mio signore partirà questa notte. Un affare molto serio lo chiama. La grande prerogativa e il rito d’amore, che il tempo reclama come vostro dovuto, egli lo riconosce, ma lo rinvia a una costretta astinenza: la cui privazione e il cui indugio sono sparsi di dolcezze, che ora essi distillano nel tempo frenato, per far che l’ora futura sovrabbondi di gioia, e il piacere ne affoghi l’orlo.
HELEN	Qual è ancora il suo volere?
PAROLES	Che voi prendiate subito congedo dal Re, e facciate apparire questa fretta come vostra buona iniziativa, rafforzata da quella scusa che crediate possa renderla necessità plausibile.
HELEN	Che altro comanda?
PAROLES	Che, ottenuto questo, voi subito attendiate il suo ulteriore piacere.
HELEN	In ogni cosa mi rimetto al suo volere.
PAROLES	Così riferirò.
HELEN	Ve ne prego.
(didascalia)	Esce Paroles da una porta]
HELEN	Vieni, messere.
(didascalia)	Escono F da un’altra porta]

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu and Bertram
LAFEU	But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM) Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
LAFEU	You have it from his own deliverance.
BERTRAM	And by other warranted testimony.
LAFEU	Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a bunting.
BERTRAM	I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.
LAFEU	I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour—and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the amity.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
PAROLES	(to Bertram) These things shall be done, sir.
LAFEU	(to Bertram) Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor? 15
PAROLES	Sir!
LAFEU	O, I know him well. Ay, ‘Sir’, he; ‘Sir’ ’s a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM) (aside to Paroles) Is she gone to the King?
PAROLES	She is. BERTRAM) Will she away tonight?
PAROLES	As you’ll have her.
BERTRAM	I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses, and tonight, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin.
LAFEU	(aside) A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner, but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. (To Paroles) God save you, captain. BERTRAM) (to Paroles) Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?
PAROLES	I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord’s displeasure. 35
LAFEU	You have made shift to run into’t, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard, and out of it you’ll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM) It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.
LAFEU	And shall do so ever, though I took him at’s prayers. Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.—Farewell, monsieur. I have spoken better of you than you have wit or will to deserve at my hand, but we must do good against evil.
(didascalia)	Exit
PAROLES	An idle lord, I swear.
BERTRAM	I think not so.
PAROLES	Why, do you not know him?
BERTRAM	Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, attended
HELEN	I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procured his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you. BERTRAM) I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular. Prepared I was not For such a business, therefore am I found So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse than ask why I entreat you, For my respects are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not. This to my mother. He gives her a letter ’Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom.
HELEN	Sir, I can nothing say But that I am your most obedient servant.
BERTRAM	Come, come, no more of that.
HELEN	And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed To equal my great fortune.
BERTRAM	Let that go. My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie home.
HELEN	Pray sir, your pardon.
BERTRAM	Well, what would you say?
HELEN	I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say ’tis mine—and yet it is— But like a timorous thief most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own.
BERTRAM	What would you have?
HELEN	Something, and scarce so much: nothing indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord. Faith, yes: Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss.
BERTRAM	I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
HELEN	I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.— Where are my other men?—Monsieur, farewell.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Helen and attendants at one door
BERTRAM	Go thou toward home, where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.— Away, and for our flight.
PAROLES	Bravely. Coraggio!
(didascalia)	Exeunt at another door

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Lafeu e Bertram
LAFEU	Ma spero che vostra signoria non lo tenga per un soldato. BERTRAM) Sì, mio signore, e di prova valorosissima.
LAFEU	L’avete dalla sua propria dichiarazione.
BERTRAM	E da altra testimonianza garantita.
LAFEU	Allora il mio quadrante non va giusto. Presi quest’allodola per uno zigolo.
BERTRAM	V’assicuro, mio signore, ch’egli è grandissimo nel sapere, e valoroso in proporzione.
LAFEU	Ho dunque peccato contro la sua esperienza e trasgredito contro il suo valore—e il mio stato per questa via è pericoloso, poiché non trovo ancora nel mio cuore di pentirmene. Eccolo che viene. Vi prego, fateci amici. Coltiverò l’amicizia.
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles
PAROLES	(a Bertram) Queste cose saranno fatte, signore.
LAFEU	(a Bertram) Vi prego, signore, chi è il suo sarto? 15
PAROLES	Signore!
LAFEU	Oh, lo conosco bene. Sì, «Signore», lui; «Signore» è un buon artigiano, un ottimo sarto. BERTRAM) (a parte a Paroles) È andata dal Re?
PAROLES	Sì. BERTRAM) Partirà questa notte?
PAROLES	Come volete voi.
BERTRAM	Ho scritto le mie lettere, riposto in cassa il mio tesoro, dato ordine per i nostri cavalli, e stanotte, quando dovrei prender possesso della sposa, finirò prima di cominciare.
LAFEU	(a parte) Un buon viaggiatore vale qualcosa alla fine d’un pranzo, ma uno che mente per tre terzi e usa una verità nota per far passare mille nullità, dovrebbe essere udito una volta e battuto tre. (A Paroles) Dio vi salvi, capitano. BERTRAM) (a Paroles) C’è qualche ruggine fra il mio signore e voi, monsieur?
PAROLES	Non so come abbia meritato d’incorrere nel dispiacere del mio signore. 35
LAFEU	Ci siete corso dentro con destrezza, stivali e sproni e tutto, come colui che saltò nel budino, e ne uscirete correndo di nuovo, piuttosto che patire domande sulla vostra dimora. BERTRAM) Può essere che l’abbiate scambiato, mio signore.
LAFEU	E così farò sempre, anche se lo cogliessi in preghiera. Statevi bene, mio signore, e credete questo di me: non può esserci gheriglio in questa noce leggera. L’anima di quest’uomo sono i suoi abiti. Non fidatevi di lui in materia di grave conseguenza. Ne ho tenuti di simili addomesticati, e conosco le loro nature.—Addio, monsieur. Ho parlato di voi meglio di quanto abbiate ingegno o volontà di meritare dalla mia mano, ma dobbiamo fare il bene contro il male.
(didascalia)	Esce
PAROLES	Un signore fannullone, lo giuro.
BERTRAM	Non credo.
PAROLES	Ma come, non lo conoscete?
BERTRAM	Sì, lo conosco bene, e la voce comune gli dà buona fama. Ecco viene il mio ceppo.
(didascalia)	Entra Elena, con seguito
HELEN	Ho, signore, come mi fu comandato da voi, parlato col Re, e ottenuto il suo congedo per una partenza immediata; solo egli desidera un colloquio privato con voi. BERTRAM) Obbedirò al suo volere. Non devi meravigliarti, Elena, del mio procedere, che non s’accorda col tempo, né compie il servizio e l’ufficio richiesto nel mio caso particolare. Non ero preparato a un tale affare, perciò mi si trova così sconvolto. Questo mi spinge a pregarti che tu prenda subito la via di casa, e piuttosto rimugini che chieda perché ti prego, poiché le mie ragioni son migliori di quanto sembrino, e i miei impegni hanno in sé una necessità maggiore di quanto si mostri a prima vista a te che non li conosci. Questo a mia madre. Le dà una lettera Passeranno due giorni prima ch’io ti riveda, così ti lascio alla tua saggezza.
HELEN	Signore, nulla posso dire se non che sono la vostra obbedientissima serva.
BERTRAM	Basta, basta, non più di questo.
HELEN	E sempre cercherò con vera osservanza di supplire a ciò in cui verso me le mie umili stelle hanno mancato d’uguagliare la mia grande fortuna.
BERTRAM	Lascia andare. La mia fretta è grandissima. Addio. Affrettati a casa.
HELEN	Vi prego, signore, il vostro perdono.
BERTRAM	Bene, che vorreste dire?
HELEN	Non son degna della ricchezza che possiedo, né oso dire ch’è mia—e pure lo è— ma come un ladro timoroso volentieri ruberei ciò che la legge attesta esser mio.
BERTRAM	Che vorreste?
HELEN	Qualcosa, e a stento tanto: nulla in verità. Non vorrei dirvi ciò che vorrei, mio signore. In fede, sì: gli estranei e i nemici si separano e non si baciano.
BERTRAM	Vi prego, non v’attardate, ma in fretta a cavallo.
HELEN	Non trasgredirò il vostro comando, mio buon signore.— Dove sono gli altri miei uomini?—Monsieur, addio.
(didascalia)	Escono Elena e il seguito da una porta
BERTRAM	Va’ tu verso casa, dove io non verrò mai finché potrò scuotere la mia spada o udire il tamburo.— Via, e alla nostra fuga.
PAROLES	Bravamente. Coraggio!
(didascalia)	Escono da un’altra porta

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the Duke of Florence and the two Lords Dumaine, with a troop of soldiers
DUKE	So that from point to point now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, And more thirsts after.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful On the opposer.
DUKE	Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield But like a common and an outward man That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion; therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guessed.
DUKE	Be it his pleasure.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	But I am sure the younger of our nation, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic.
DUKE	Welcome shall they be, And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. Tomorrow to the field.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano il Duca di Firenze e i due Signori Dumaine, con una truppa di soldati
DUCA	Così, punto per punto, avete ora udito le ragioni fondamentali di questa guerra, la cui grande decisione ha fatto versare molto sangue, e ne ha sete di più.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Santa sembra la contesa da parte di vostra grazia; nera e paurosa da parte dell’avversario.
DUCA	Perciò molto ci meravigliamo che nostro cugino di Francia voglia, in affare così giusto, chiudere il suo petto alle nostre preghiere di soccorso.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Mio buon signore, le ragioni del nostro stato non posso esporle se non come un uomo comune ed esterno che si figura la grande immagine d’un consiglio per moto incapace di sé; perciò non oso dire ciò che ne penso, poiché ho trovato me stesso, sui miei terreni incerti, fallire tante volte quante ho congetturato.
DUCA	Sia il suo piacere.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Ma son certo che i più giovani della nostra nazione, che si rimpinzano del loro agio, verranno di giorno in giorno qui in cerca di medicina.
DUCA	Benvenuti saranno, e tutti gli onori che possano volare da noi su loro si poseranno. Conoscete bene i vostri posti; quando ne cadano di migliori, cadranno a vostro vantaggio. Domani in campo.
(didascalia)	Squilli di trombe. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess with a letter, and Lavatch COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.
LAVATCH	By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.
COUNTESS	By what observance, I pray you?
LAVATCH	Why, he will look upon his boot and sing, mend the ruff and sing, ask questions and sing, pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.
COUNTESS	Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. She opens the letter and reads
LAVATCH	(aside) I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old lings and our Isbels o‘th’ country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o’th’ court. The brains of my Cupid’s knocked out, and I begin to love as an old man loves money: with no stomach.
COUNTESS	What have we here?
LAVATCH	E’en that you have there.
(didascalia)	Exit
COUNTESS	(reads the letter aloud) ’I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her, and sworn to make the “not” eternal. You shall hear I am run away; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, Bertram.’ This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a King, To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire.
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch
LAVATCH	O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady.
COUNTESS	What is the matter?
LAVATCH	Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
COUNTESS	Why should he be killed?
LAVATCH	So say I, madam—if he run away, as I hear he does. The danger is in standing to’t; that’s the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For my part, I only heard your son was run away. [Exit]
(didascalia)	Enter Helen with a letter, and the two Lords Dumaine
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to the Countess) Save you, good madam.
HELEN	Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Do not say so.
COUNTESS	(to Helen) Think upon patience.—Pray you, gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief That the first face of neither on the start Can woman me unto’t. Where is my son, I pray you?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Madam, he’s gone to serve the Duke of Florence. We met him thitherward, for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again.
HELEN	Look on his letter, madam: here’s my passport.
(didascalia)	She reads aloud
HELEN	‘When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a “then” I write a “never”.’ This is a dreadful sentence.
COUNTESS	Brought you this letter, gentlemen?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam, And for the contents’ sake are sorry for our pains.
COUNTESS	I prithee, lady, have a better cheer. If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine Thou robb’st me of a moiety. He was my son, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child.—Towards Florence is he?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam.
COUNTESS	And to be a soldier?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Such is his noble purpose, and—believe’t— The Duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims.
COUNTESS	Return you thither?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
HELEN	‘Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.’ ’Tis bitter. 75
COUNTESS	Find you that there?
HELEN	Ay, madam.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	’Tis but the boldness of his hand, Haply, which his heart was not consenting to.
COUNTESS	Nothing in France until he have no wife? There’s nothing here that is too good for him But only she, and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her, hourly, mistress. Who was with him?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known.
COUNTESS	Paroles, was it not?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Ay, my good lady, he.
COUNTESS	A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derivèd nature With his inducement.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Which holds him much to have.
COUNTESS	You’re welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you when you see my son To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses. More I’ll entreat you Written to bear along.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs.
COUNTESS	Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near?
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Helen
HELEN	‘Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.’ Nothing in France until he has no wife. Thou shalt have none, Roussillon, none in France; Then hast thou all again. Poor lord, is’t I That chase thee from thy country and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none-sparing war? And is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim, cleave the still-piecing air That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there. Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to’t, And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected. Better ’twere I met the ravin lion when he roared With sharp constraint of hunger; better ’twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Roussillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all. I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence. Shall I stay here to do’t? No, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house And angels officed all. I will be gone, That pitiful rumour may report my flight To consolate thine ear. Come night, end day; For with the dark, poor thief, I’ll steal away. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Contessa con una lettera, e Lavatch CONTESSA È andato tutto come avrei voluto, salvo che egli non viene insieme a lei.
LAVATCH	In fede mia, ritengo il mio giovane signore un uomo molto malinconico.
COUNTESS	Da quale osservazione, ti prego?
LAVATCH	Ebbene, guarda il suo stivale e canta, aggiusta la gorgiera e canta, fa domande e canta, si stuzzica i denti e canta. Ho conosciuto un uomo che, avendo questo vezzo della malinconia, vendette un bel maniero per una canzone.
COUNTESS	Vediamo che cosa scrive, e quando intende venire. Apre la lettera e legge
LAVATCH	(a parte) Non ho più voglia d’Isbel da quando fui a corte. I nostri vecchi merluzzi e le nostre Isbel di campagna non sono nulla di simile al vostro vecchio merluzzo e alle vostre Isbel di corte. Al mio Cupido son state fatte saltare le cervella, e comincio ad amare come un vecchio ama il denaro: senza appetito.
COUNTESS	Che abbiamo qui?
LAVATCH	Proprio quel che avete lì.
(didascalia)	Esce
COUNTESS	(legge la lettera ad alta voce) «Vi ho mandato una nuora. Ha guarito il Re e ha rovinato me. L’ho sposata, non l’ho portata a letto, e ho giurato di rendere eterno quel “non”. Sentirete che sono fuggito; sappiatelo prima che ne venga la notizia. Se c’è al mondo spazio abbastanza, terrò una lunga distanza. Il mio dovere a voi. Il vostro sfortunato figlio, Bertram.» Questo non è bene, ragazzo temerario e sfrenato, fuggire i favori d’un Re così buono, tirarti sul capo la sua indignazione con lo spregio d’una fanciulla troppo virtuosa per il disprezzo d’un impero.
(didascalia)	Entra Lavatch
LAVATCH	Oh signora, là dentro ci sono gravi notizie, fra due soldati e la mia giovane signora.
COUNTESS	Che c’è?
LAVATCH	Anzi, c’è qualche conforto nella notizia, qualche conforto. Vostro figlio non sarà ucciso così presto come credevo che sarebbe.
COUNTESS	Perché dovrebbe essere ucciso?
LAVATCH	Così dico anch’io, signora—se fugge, come sento che fa. Il pericolo sta nel resistere; quella è la perdita degli uomini, benché sia il guadagno dei figli. Eccoli che vengono, vi diranno di più. Per parte mia, ho solo udito che vostro figlio era fuggito. [Esce]
(didascalia)	Entra Elena con una lettera, e i due Signori Dumaine
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(alla Contessa) Dio vi salvi, buona signora.
HELEN	Signora, il mio signore è partito, per sempre partito.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non dite così.
COUNTESS	(a Elena) Pensa alla pazienza.—Vi prego, signori, ho provato tanti capricci di gioia e di dolore che il primo volto né dell’una né dell’altro, all’improvviso, può farmi donna fino al pianto. Dov’è mio figlio, vi prego?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Signora, è andato a servire il Duca di Firenze. L’incontrammo in cammino colà, poiché di là venivamo, e, dopo qualche incarico da sbrigare a corte, là volgeremo di nuovo.
HELEN	Guardate la sua lettera, signora: ecco il mio passaporto.
(didascalia)	Ella legge ad alta voce
HELEN	«Quando potrai avere l’anello che ho al dito, il quale mai ne uscirà, e mostrarmi un figlio generato dal tuo corpo di cui io sia padre, allora chiamami marito; ma in un tale “allora” io scrivo un “mai”.» Questa è una sentenza terribile.
COUNTESS	Portaste voi questa lettera, signori?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sì, signora, e per il contenuto ci dispiace della nostra fatica.
COUNTESS	Ti prego, signora, fa’ miglior viso. Se accaparri per te tutti i dolori mi rubi la mia metà. Era mio figlio, ma io lavo il suo nome fuori dal mio sangue, e tu sei tutta la mia figlia.—Verso Firenze è andato?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sì, signora.
COUNTESS	E per essere soldato?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Tale è il suo nobile proposito, e—credetelo— il Duca porrà su lui tutto l’onore che la buona convenienza reclama.
COUNTESS	Ritornate là?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sì, signora, con la più rapida ala della velocità.
HELEN	«Finché non avrò moglie, non ho nulla in Francia.» È amaro. 75
COUNTESS	Trovi questo lì?
HELEN	Sì, signora.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	È solo l’audacia della sua mano, forse, a cui il suo cuore non consentiva.
COUNTESS	Nulla in Francia finché non abbia moglie? Non c’è nulla qui che sia troppo buono per lui se non lei sola, e lei merita un signore al cui servizio venti tali ragazzi rozzi potrebbero stare, chiamandola ogni ora padrona. Chi era con lui?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Solo un servo, e un gentiluomo che ho conosciuto un tempo.
COUNTESS	Paroles, non è vero?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sì, mia buona signora, lui.
COUNTESS	Un tipo assai corrotto, e pieno di malvagità. Mio figlio corrompe una natura bene derivata con la sua istigazione.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	In verità, buona signora, quel tipo ha buona dose di quel troppo, che gli giova molto avere.
COUNTESS	Siate i benvenuti, signori. Vi pregherò, quando vedrete mio figlio, di dirgli che la sua spada non potrà mai vincere l’onore che egli perde. Di più vi pregherò di portar con voi per iscritto.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Vi serviamo, signora, in quello e in tutti i vostri più degni affari.
COUNTESS	Non così, ma in scambio di cortesie. Volete accostarvi?
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Elena
HELEN	«Finché non avrò moglie, non ho nulla in Francia.» Nulla in Francia finché non abbia moglie. Non ne avrai alcuna, Rossiglione, nessuna in Francia; allora avrai tutto di nuovo. Povero signore, sono io che ti scaccio dal tuo paese ed espongo quelle tue tenere membra all’azzardo della guerra che non risparmia? E sono io che ti caccio dalla corte festosa, dove tu eri bersaglio di begli occhi, per farti segno di moschetti fumanti? Oh voi messaggeri di piombo che cavalcate sulla violenta velocità del fuoco, volate con mira falsa, fendete l’aria che sempre si richiude e canta al vostro fischio, non toccate il mio signore. Chiunque gli spari, io l’ho posto là. Chiunque carichi sul suo petto proteso, io sono la vile che glielo fa affrontare, e sebbene io non l’uccida, sono la causa per cui la sua morte fu così compiuta. Meglio sarebbe ch’io incontrassi il leone rapace quando ruggiva per acuta stretta di fame; meglio sarebbe che tutte le miserie che la natura deve fossero mie in una volta. No, torna tu a casa, Rossiglione, di là dove l’onore non guadagna dal pericolo che una cicatrice, e spesso perde tutto. Io partirò; è il mio esser qui che ti tiene lontano. Devo restar qui a far questo? No, no, quand’anche l’aria del paradiso ventilasse la casa e gli angeli facessero ogni servizio. Io partirò, perché una pietosa voce riferisca la mia fuga a consolare il tuo orecchio. Vieni, notte, finisci il giorno; perché col buio, povera ladra, mi dileguerò. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, a drummer and trumpeters, soldiers, and Paroles
DUKE	(to Bertram) The general of our horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune.
BERTRAM	Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet We’ll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To th’extreme edge of hazard.
DUKE	Then go thou forth, And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm As thy auspicious mistress.
BERTRAM	This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file. Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano il Duca di Firenze, Bertram, un tamburino e trombettieri, soldati, e Paroles
DUCA	(a Bertram) Generale della nostra cavalleria tu sei, e noi, grandi nella nostra speranza, poniamo il nostro miglior amore e la nostra fede sulla tua promettente fortuna.
BERTRAM	Signore, è un carico troppo grave per la mia forza, e tuttavia ci sforzeremo di portarlo per amore del vostro merito fino all’estremo orlo dell’azzardo.
DUCA	Va’ dunque avanti, e la Fortuna si posi a giocare sul tuo elmo prospero come tua propizia signora.
BERTRAM	Questo giorno stesso, grande Marte, mi pongo nella tua schiera. Rendimi solo simile ai miei pensieri, e mi mostrerò amante del tuo tamburo, odiatore dell’amore.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess and Reynaldo her steward, with a letter
COUNTESS	Alas! And would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again.
REYNALDO	(reads the letter) ‘I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone. Ambitious love hath so in me offended That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie. Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervour sanctify. His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. He is too good and fair for death and me; Whom I myself embrace to set him free.’
COUNTESS	Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Reynaldo, you did never lack advice so much As letting her pass so. Had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented.
REYNALDO	Pardon me, madam. If I had given you this at over-night She might have been o’erta’en—and yet she writes Pursuit would be but vain.
COUNTESS	What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Reynaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife. Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light; my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger. When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return, and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love. Which of them both Is dearest to me I have no skill in sense To make distinction. Provide this messenger. My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Contessa e Reynaldo suo maggiordomo, con una lettera
COUNTESS	Ahimè! E avete preso da lei la lettera? Non potevate sapere che avrebbe fatto come ha fatto, mandandomi una lettera? Leggetela di nuovo.
REYNALDO	(legge la lettera) «Sono pellegrina di San Giacomo, e là sono andata. L’amore ambizioso ha tanto offeso in me che a piedi nudi calco la terra fredda con voto santo per emendare le mie colpe. Scrivete, scrivete, che dal sanguinoso corso della guerra il mio carissimo padrone, il vostro caro figlio, s’affretti via. Benedicetelo a casa in pace, mentre io da lontano il suo nome con zelante fervore santifico. Le fatiche ch’egli ha prese mi perdoni; io, la sua dispettosa Giunone, lo mandai fuori dagli amici di corte, a vivere con nemici accampati, dove la morte e il pericolo inseguono i calcagni del valore. Egli è troppo buono e bello per la morte e per me; la quale io stessa abbraccio per renderlo libero.»
COUNTESS	Ah, che pungiglioni acuti sono nelle sue parole più miti! Reynaldo, mai vi mancò tanto il giudizio come nel lasciarla partire così. Se avessi parlato con lei, avrei bene potuto sviare i suoi intenti, che così ella ha prevenuti.
REYNALDO	Perdonatemi, signora. Se v’avessi dato questa la notte passata la si sarebbe potuta raggiungere—e tuttavia ella scrive che l’inseguimento sarebbe vano.
COUNTESS	Quale angelo benedirà questo marito indegno? Non può prosperare se le preghiere di lei, che il cielo si diletta d’udire e ama esaudire, non lo sottraggono all’ira della più grande giustizia. Scrivete, scrivete, Reynaldo, a questo indegno marito di sua moglie. Che ogni parola pesi grave del valore di lei, ch’egli pesa troppo leggero; il mio più grande dolore, sebbene poco lo senta, esponetelo acerbamente. Spedite il messaggero più adatto. Quando forse udrà ch’ella è partita, tornerà, e spero ch’ella, udendo altrettanto, affretti di nuovo il suo piede, condotta qua da puro amore. Quale dei due mi sia più caro, non ho perizia di senso per far distinzione. Provvedete questo messaggero. Il mio cuore è grave e la mia età è debole; il dolore vorrebbe lacrime, e la pena mi comanda di parlare.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow, her daughter Diana, and Mariana, with other Florentine citizens
WIDOW	Nay, come, for if they do approach the city we shall lose all the sight.
DIANA	They say the French Count has done most honourable service.
WIDOW	It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander, and that with his own hand he slew the Duke’s brother. (Tucket) We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way. Hark. You may know by their trumpets.
MARIANA	Come, let’s return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it.—Wett, Diana, take heed of this French earl. The honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty.
WIDOW	(to Diana) I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion.
MARIANA	I know that knave, hang him! One Paroles. A filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all their engines of lust, are not the things they go under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further, but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.
DIANA	You shall not need to fear me.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen dressed as a pilgrim
WIDOW	I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another. I’ll question her. God save you, pilgrim. Whither are you bound?
HELEN	To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
WIDOW	At the ’Saint Francis’ here beside the port.
HELEN	Is this the way?
WIDOW	Ay, marry, is’t.
(didascalia)	Sound of a march, far off
WIDOW	Hark you, they come this way. If you will tarry, Holy pilgrim, but till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodged, The rather for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself.
HELEN	Is it yourself?
WIDOW	If you shall please so, pilgrim.
HELEN	I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
WIDOW	You came, I think, from France?
HELEN	I did SO.
WIDOW	Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service.
HELEN	His name, I pray you?
DIANA	The Count Roussillon. Know you such a one?
HELEN	But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; 50 His face I know not.
DIANA	Whatsome’er he is, He’s bravely taken here. He stole from France, As ’tis reported; for the King had married him Against his liking. Think you it is so?
HELEN	Ay, surely, mere the truth. I know his lady.
DIANA	There is a gentleman that serves the Count Reports but coarsely of her.
HELEN	What’s his name?
DIANA	A Monsieur Paroles.
HELEN	O, I believe with him: In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated. All her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examined.
DIANA	Alas, poor lady. ’Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord.
WIDOW	I warr’nt, good creature, wheresoe’er she is Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn if she pleased.
HELEN	How do you mean? Maybe the amorous Count solicits her In the unlawful purpose.
WIDOW	He does indeed, And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid. But she is armed for him, and keeps her guard In honestest defence.
MARIANA	The gods forbid else.
(didascalia)	Enter, with drummer and colours, Bertram, Paroles, and the whole army
WIDOW	So, now they come. That is Antonio, the Duke’s eldest son; That, Escalus.
HELEN	Which is the Frenchman?
DIANA	He— That with the plume. ’Tis a most gallant fellow. I would he loved his wife. If he were honester He were much goodlier. Is’t not A handsome gentleman?
HELEN	I like him well.
DIANA	’Tis pity he is not honest. Yond’s that same knave that leads him to those places. Were I his lady, I would poison That vile rascal.
HELEN	Which is he?
DIANA	That jackanapes With scarves. Why is he melancholy?
HELEN	Perchance he’s hurt i’th’ battle.
PAROLES	(aside) Lose our drum? Well. 90
MARIANA	He’s shrewdly vexed at something. Look, he has spied us.
WIDOW	(to Paroles) Marry, hang you!
MARIANA	(to Paroles) And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Bertram, Paroles, and the army
WIDOW	The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host. Of enjoined penitents There’s four or five to great Saint Jaques bound Already at my house.
HELEN	I humbly thank you. Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us tonight, the charge and thanking Shall be for me. And to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note.
WIDOW	and MARIANA We’ll take your offer kindly. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di tromba in lontananza. Entrano una vecchia Vedova, sua figlia Diana, e Mariana, con altri cittadini fiorentini
VEDOVA	Su, venite, perché se s’accostano alla città perderemo tutto lo spettacolo.
DIANA	Dicono che il conte francese ha reso onorevolissimo servizio.
VEDOVA	Si riferisce che ha catturato il loro maggior comandante, e che con la sua propria mano ha ucciso il fratello del Duca. (Squillo) Abbiamo perso la nostra fatica; sono andati per la via contraria. Ascoltate. Lo si può capire dalle loro trombe.
MARIANA	Su, torniamo indietro, e accontentiamoci del racconto.—Wett, Diana, badate a questo conte francese. L’onore d’una fanciulla è il suo nome, e nessuna eredità è così ricca come l’onestà.
VEDOVA	(a Diana) Ho raccontato alla mia vicina come sei stata sollecitata da un gentiluomo, suo compagno.
MARIANA	Conosco quel furfante, che sia impiccato! Un certo Paroles. È un lurido ufficiale in quelle proposte per il giovane conte. Guardatene, Diana; le loro promesse, lusinghe, giuramenti, pegni e tutti i loro ordigni di lussuria non sono le cose sotto cui si presentano. Molte fanciulle sono state sedotte da loro; e la miseria è che l’esempio, che si mostra così terribile nel naufragio della verginità, non può con tutto ciò dissuadere chi segue, ma esse restano invischiate dalle stesse frasche che le minacciano. Spero di non aver bisogno d’avvertirvi di più, ma spero che la vostra propria grazia vi mantenga dove siete, quand’anche non fosse noto altro pericolo che la modestia così perduta.
DIANA	Non avrete bisogno di temere per me.
(didascalia)	Entra Elena vestita da pellegrina
VEDOVA	Spero di sì. Guardate, ecco viene una pellegrina. So che alloggerà nella mia casa; là si mandano l’una l’altra. La interrogherò. Dio vi salvi, pellegrina. Dove siete diretta?
HELEN	A San Giacomo il Grande. Dove alloggiano i palmieri, vi supplico?
VEDOVA	Al «San Francesco» qui accanto alla porta.
HELEN	È questa la via?
VEDOVA	Sì, davvero, è questa.
(didascalia)	Suono d’una marcia, in lontananza
VEDOVA	Ascoltate, vengono per questa via. Se volete indugiare, santa pellegrina, solo fin che le truppe siano passate, vi condurrò dove sarete alloggiata, tanto più che credo di conoscere la vostra ospite quanto me stessa.
HELEN	Siete voi stessa?
VEDOVA	Se così vi piacerà, pellegrina.
HELEN	Vi ringrazio, e attenderò il vostro comodo.
VEDOVA	Venite, credo, dalla Francia?
HELEN	Proprio COSÌ.
VEDOVA	Qui vedrete un vostro compatriota che ha reso degno servizio.
HELEN	Il suo nome, vi prego?
DIANA	Il conte di Rossiglione. Ne conoscete uno tale?
HELEN	Solo per udito, che nobilissime cose sente di lui; 50 il suo volto non lo conosco.
DIANA	Chiunque egli sia, qui è tenuto in gran conto. Fuggì dalla Francia, a quel che si dice; perché il Re l’aveva ammogliato contro il suo gradimento. Credete che sia così?
HELEN	Sì, certo, pura verità. Conosco la sua signora.
DIANA	C’è un gentiluomo che serve il Conte e parla di lei assai grossolanamente.
HELEN	Come si chiama?
DIANA	Un Monsieur Paroles.
HELEN	Oh, io concordo con lui: in materia di lode, o rispetto al valore del grande Conte medesimo, ella è troppo umile perché il suo nome sia ripetuto. Tutto il suo merito è un’onestà riservata, e quella non ho udito che sia stata messa in questione.
DIANA	Ahimè, povera signora. È dura schiavitù divenire la moglie d’un signore che detesta.
VEDOVA	Lo garantisco, buona creatura, dovunque sia il suo cuore pesa tristemente. Questa giovane fanciulla potrebbe farle un brutto tiro, se volesse.
HELEN	Che intendete? Forse l’amoroso Conte la sollecita a un proposito illecito.
VEDOVA	Lo fa davvero, e tratta con tutto ciò che in tale corteggiamento possa corrompere il tenero onore d’una fanciulla. Ma ella è armata contro di lui, e tiene la sua guardia nella più onesta difesa.
MARIANA	Gli dèi non permettano altrimenti.
(didascalia)	Entrano, con tamburino e insegne, Bertram, Paroles e tutto l’esercito
VEDOVA	Ecco, ora vengono. Quello è Antonio, il figlio maggiore del Duca; quello, Escalus.
HELEN	Quale è il Francese?
DIANA	Lui— quello col pennacchio. È un giovane gagliardissimo. Vorrei che amasse sua moglie. Se fosse più onesto sarebbe molto più bello. Non è un bel gentiluomo?
HELEN	Mi piace bene.
DIANA	È peccato che non sia onesto. Là c’è quello stesso furfante che lo conduce in quei luoghi. Se fossi la sua signora, avvelenerei quel vile mascalzone.
HELEN	Quale è?
DIANA	Quel bertuccione con le sciarpe. Perché è malinconico?
HELEN	Forse è stato ferito nella battaglia.
PAROLES	(a parte) Perdere il nostro tamburo? Bene. 90
MARIANA	È malamente irritato per qualcosa. Guardate, ci ha scorte.
VEDOVA	(a Paroles) Davvero, che sia impiccato!
MARIANA	(a Paroles) E la vostra cortesia, portatore d’anelli che siete.
(didascalia)	Escono Bertram, Paroles e l’esercito
VEDOVA	La truppa è passata. Venite, pellegrina, vi condurrò dove alloggerete. Di penitenti per voto ce n’è quattro o cinque diretti al grande San Giacomo già nella mia casa.
HELEN	Umilmente vi ringrazio. Se piaccia a questa matrona e a questa gentile fanciulla di cenare con noi stanotte, la spesa e i ringraziamenti saranno a mio carico. E per ricompensarvi ancora, impartirò a questa vergine alcuni precetti degni di nota.
VEDOVA	e MARIANA Accetteremo di buon grado la vostra offerta. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram and the two Captains Dumaine SECOND LORD DUMAINE (to Bertram) Nay, good my lord, put him to’t. Let him have his way.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) On my life, my lord, a bubble.
BERTRAM	Do you think I am so far deceived in him?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Believe it, my lord. In mine own direct knowledge—without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman—he’s a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship’s entertainment. 13
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) It were fit you knew him, lest reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you.
BERTRAM	I would I knew in what particular action to try him.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him. Such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy; we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the laager of the adversary’s when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgement in anything. 34
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum. He says he has a stratagem for’t. When your lordship sees the bottom of his success in’t, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum’s entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE O aside for the love of laughter aloud hinder not the honour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
BERTRAM	(to Paroles) How now, monsieur? This drum sticks sorely in your disposition.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	A pox on’t, let it go. ’Tis but a drum.
PAROLES	But a drum? Is’t but a drum? A drum so lost! There was excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own wings and to rend our own soldiers! 51
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	That was not to be blamed in the command of the service. It was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. BERTRAM) Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success. Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum, but it is not to be recovered.
PAROLES	It might have been recovered.
BERTRAM	It might, but it is not now.
PAROLES	It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or ‘hic iacet’.
BERTRAM	Why, if you have a stomach, to’t, monsieur. If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on. I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit. If you speed well in it, the Duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.
PAROLES	By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM) But you must not now slumber in it.
PAROLES	I’ll about it this evening, and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM) May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?
PAROLES	I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM) I know thou’rt valiant, and to the possibility of thy soldiership will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
PAROLES	I love not many words. Exit
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	No more than a fish loves water. (To Bertram) Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done? Damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do’t.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is that he will steal himself into a man’s favour, and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries, but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM) Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	None in the world, but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost embosked him. You shall see his fall tonight; for indeed he is not for your lordship’s respect.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(to Bertram) We’ll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him, which you shall see this very night. 106
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I must go look my twigs. He shall be caught.
BERTRAM	Your brother, he shall go along with me.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE As’t please your lordship. I’ll leave you. Exit
BERTRAM	Now will I lead you to the house, and show you 111 The lass I spoke of.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE But you say she’s honest.
BERTRAM	That’s all the fault. I spoke with her but once And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her By this same coxcomb that we have i’th’ wind 115 Tokens and letters, which she did re-send, And this is all I have done. She’s a fair creature. Will you go see her?
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE With all my heart, my lord.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Bertram e i due Capitani Dumaine SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a Bertram) Su, mio buon signore, mettetelo alla prova. Lasciate che faccia a suo modo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Se vostra signoria non lo trova un ronzino da nulla, non tenetemi più in vostra stima.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Sulla mia vita, mio signore, una bolla.
BERTRAM	Credete che io m’inganni tanto su lui?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Credetelo, mio signore. Per mia diretta conoscenza—senza alcuna malizia, ma per parlare di lui come mio parente—è un codardo notevolissimo, un bugiardo infinito e senza fine, uno che rompe le promesse a ogni ora, il possessore di non una sola buona qualità degna dell’accoglienza di vostra signoria. 13
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Sarebbe bene che lo conoscessi, perché, riponendo troppa fiducia nella sua virtù, che non ha, non abbia a mancarvi in qualche grande e fidato affare, in un pericolo capitale.
BERTRAM	Vorrei sapere in quale azione particolare provarlo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Nessuna migliore che lasciarlo andare a ricuperare il suo tamburo, cosa che lo sentite intraprendere con tanta sicurezza.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Io, con una truppa di Fiorentini, lo sorprenderò all’improvviso. Prenderò gente che son certo non sappia distinguere dal nemico; lo legheremo e lo incappucceremo in modo che non supponga altro se non d’essere portato nell’accampamento dell’avversario, mentre lo condurremo alle nostre stesse tende. Sia solo presente vostra signoria al suo interrogatorio: se egli non offrirà, per la promessa della vita e sotto la più alta costrizione d’una vile paura, di tradirvi, e di consegnare contro di voi tutte le informazioni in suo potere, e questo con la divina perdita della sua anima sotto giuramento, non fidatevi mai più del mio giudizio in nulla. 34
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Oh, per l’amor del riso, lasciate che vada a prendere il suo tamburo. Dice d’avere uno stratagemma per ciò. Quando vostra signoria vedrà il fondo del suo successo in questo, e in quale metallo si fonderà questa massa contraffatta di minerale, se non gli darete l’accoglienza di Giovanni Tamburo, la vostra inclinazione non si potrà rimuovere. Eccolo che viene.
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Oh a parte per l’amor del riso ad alta voce non ostacolate l’onore del suo disegno; lasciate che vada a ricuperare il suo tamburo in ogni caso.
BERTRAM	(a Paroles) Come va, monsieur? Questo tamburo vi sta dolorosamente sullo stomaco.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Alla malora, lasciatelo andare. Non è che un tamburo.
PAROLES	Non è che un tamburo? È solo un tamburo? Un tamburo perduto così! Bell’ordine fu quello: caricare con la nostra cavalleria sulle nostre stesse ali e squarciare i nostri stessi soldati! 51
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non era da biasimarsi nel comando del servizio. Fu un disastro di guerra che Cesare stesso non avrebbe potuto prevenire, s’egli fosse stato là a comandare. BERTRAM) Bene, non possiamo condannare troppo il nostro successo. Qualche disonore l’abbiamo avuto nella perdita di quel tamburo, ma non è da ricuperare.
PAROLES	Si sarebbe potuto ricuperare.
BERTRAM	Si sarebbe potuto, ma ora non lo è.
PAROLES	È da ricuperare. Se non fosse che il merito del servizio è raramente attribuito al vero ed esatto esecutore, avrei quel tamburo o un altro, oppure «hic iacet».
BERTRAM	Ebbene, se ne avete lo stomaco, all’opera, monsieur. Se credete che il vostro mistero di stratagemmi possa riportare questo strumento d’onore nel suo quartiere nativo, siate magnanimo nell’impresa e procedete. Onorerò il tentativo come degna prodezza. Se vi riuscite bene, il Duca ne parlerà e vi accorderà quanto ancora s’addice alla sua grandezza, fino all’ultima sillaba del vostro merito.
PAROLES	Per la mano d’un soldato, l’intraprenderò. BERTRAM) Ma ora non dovete sonnecchiarvi sopra.
PAROLES	Mi metterò all’opera questa sera, e stenderò subito per iscritto i miei dilemmi, m’incoraggerò nella mia certezza, mi porrò nella mia mortale preparazione; e verso mezzanotte aspettatevi d’aver altre notizie da me. BERTRAM) Posso essere così ardito da informare sua grazia che siete andato a farlo?
PAROLES	Non so quale sarà il successo, mio signore, ma il tentativo lo giuro. BERTRAM) So che sei valoroso, e per quanto è possibile alla tua arte militare sottoscriverò per te. Addio.
PAROLES	Non amo molte parole. Esce
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non più di quanto un pesce ami l’acqua. (A Bertram) Non è un tipo strano, mio signore, che con tanta sicurezza sembra intraprendere questo affare, che sa non potersi fare? Si danna per farlo, e preferisce esser dannato che farlo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Non lo conoscete, mio signore, come lo conosciamo noi. Certo è che s’insinua nel favore d’un uomo, e per una settimana sfugge a un gran numero di scoperte; ma quando l’avete scoperto, l’avete per sempre. BERTRAM) Come, credete che non farà nulla di questo a cui si dedica così seriamente?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Nulla al mondo, ma tornerà con un’invenzione, e vi appiccicherà due o tre bugie plausibili. Ma l’abbiamo quasi stanato nel bosco. Vedrete la sua caduta stanotte; perché in verità non è degno della stima di vostra signoria.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a Bertram) Vi daremo un po’ di spasso con la volpe prima di scuoiarla. Fu affumicata per primo dal vecchio signore di Lafeu. Quando il suo travestimento e lui si separeranno, ditemi che spratto lo troverete: e lo vedrete questa notte stessa. 106
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Devo andare a guardare le mie panie. Sarà preso.
BERTRAM	Vostro fratello verrà con me.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Come piace a vostra signoria. Vi lascio. Esce
BERTRAM	Ora vi condurrò alla casa, e vi mostrerò 111 la ragazza di cui parlai.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE Ma dite ch’è onesta.
BERTRAM	Questo è tutto il difetto. Le parlai una volta sola e la trovai straordinariamente fredda; ma le mandai, per mezzo di questo stesso fanfarone che abbiamo al vento 115, pegni e lettere, ch’ella rimandò indietro, e questo è tutto quel che ho fatto. È una bella creatura. Volete andare a vederla?
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE Con tutto il cuore, mio signore.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen and the Widow
HELEN	If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
WIDOW	Though my estate be fall’n, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act.
HELEN	Nor would I wish you. First give me trust the Count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so from word to word, and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it.
WIDOW	I should believe you, For you have showed me that which well approves You’re great in fortune.
HELEN	Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay, and pay again When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolved to carry her. Let her in fine consent, As we’ll direct her how ‘tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will naught deny That she’ll demand. A ring the County wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son some four or five descents Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire To buy his will it would not seem too dear, Howe’er repented after.
WIDOW	Now I see the bottom of your purpose.
HELEN	You see it lawful then. It is no more But that your daughter ere she seems as won Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent. After, To marry her I’ll add three thousand crowns To what is passed already.
WIDOW	I have yielded. Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place with this deceit so lawful May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs composed To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on’t.
HELEN	Why then tonight Let us essay our plot, which if it speed Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed And lawful meaning in a wicked act, Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact. But let’s about it. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Elena e la Vedova
HELEN	Se dubitate di me, che io non sia colei, non so come potrò assicurarvi di più senza perdere il terreno su cui lavoro.
VEDOVA	Sebbene il mio stato sia caduto, nacqui bene, nulla avvezza a questi affari, e non vorrei porre ora la mia reputazione in nessun atto che la macchi.
HELEN	Né io lo vorrei da voi. Prima credetemi che il Conte è mio marito, e che ciò che ho detto al vostro consiglio giurato è così parola per parola; e allora non potrete, col buon aiuto che da voi prenderò in prestito, errare nel concederlo.
VEDOVA	Dovrei credervi, perché m’avete mostrato ciò che bene prova che siete grande di fortuna.
HELEN	Prendete questa borsa d’oro, e lasciate ch’io compri fin qui il vostro amichevole aiuto, che ripagherò oltre misura, e pagherò di nuovo quando l’avrò trovato. Il Conte corteggia vostra figlia, pone il suo lascivo assedio davanti alla sua bellezza, risoluto a conquistarla. Ch’ella infine consenta, come le insegneremo essere il modo migliore di condurre la cosa. Ora il suo sangue impellente nulla negherà di ciò ch’ella chiederà. Un anello porta il Conte, che è discesso nella sua casa di figlio in figlio per quattro o cinque generazioni da che il primo padre lo portò. Quest’anello egli tiene in ricchissimo pregio; e tuttavia, nel suo vano fuoco, per comprare la sua voglia non gli parrebbe troppo caro, quantunque poi se ne penta.
VEDOVA	Ora vedo il fondo del vostro proposito.
HELEN	Lo vedete dunque lecito. Non è altro se non che vostra figlia, prima di sembrare conquistata, desideri quest’anello; gli fissi un incontro; e infine consegni me a riempire il tempo, restando lei castissimamente assente. Dopo, per maritarla aggiungerò tremila corone a quanto è già passato.
VEDOVA	Ho ceduto. Istruite mia figlia come dovrà persistere, sì che tempo e luogo con questo inganno così lecito si mostrino coerenti. Ogni notte egli viene con musiche d’ogni sorta, e canzoni composte alla sua indegnità. Nulla ci giova scacciarlo dalle nostre grondaie, perché insiste come se la sua vita ne dipendesse.
HELEN	Ebbene, allora stanotte tentiamo il nostro disegno, il quale, se riesce, è intenzione malvagia in un’azione lecita e intenzione lecita in un atto malvagio, dove entrambi non peccano, e tuttavia è un fatto peccaminoso. Ma all’opera. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Second Lord Dumaine, with five or six other soldiers, in ambush
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE He can come no other way but by this hedge corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will. Though you understand it not yourselves, no matter, for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 6
INTERPRETER	Good captain, let me be th’interpreter.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice?
INTERPRETER	No, sir, I warrant you.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?
INTERPRETER	E’en such as you speak to me.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE He must think us some band of strangers i’th’ adversary’s entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy. Not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs’ language, gabble enough and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! Here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges.
(didascalia)	They hide. Enter Paroles. Clock strikes
PAROLES	Ten o‘clock. Within these three hours ’twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me, and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy, but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. 31
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) This is the first truth that e’er thine own tongue was guilty of.
PAROLES	What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. They will say, ‘Came you off with so little?’ And great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman’s mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mute, if you prattle me into these perils.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
PAROLES	I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) We cannot afford you so.
PAROLES	Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) ’Twould not do.
PAROLES	Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Hardly serve.
(didascalia)	PAROLES Though I swore I leapt from the window of the citadel? 55 SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) How deep?
PAROLES	Thirty fathom.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.
PAROLES	I would I had any drum of the enemy’s. I would swear I recovered it.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside) You shall hear one anon.
(didascalia)	PAROLES A drum now of the enemy’s—Alarum within. The ambush rushes forth
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
(didascalia)	SOLDIERS (severally) Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.
(didascalia)	They seize and blindfold him
PAROLES	O ransom, ransom, do not hide mine eyes.
INTERPRETER	Boskos thromuldo boskos.
PAROLES	I know you are the Moscows regiment, And I shall lose my life for want of language. If there be here German or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me, I’ll discover that which shall undo the Florentine.
INTERPRETER	Boskos vauvado.— I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue.— Kerelybonto.—Sir, Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards Are at thy bosom.
PAROLES	O!
INTERPRETER	O pray, pray, pray!— Manka revania dulche? 80
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
INTERPRETER	Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
INTERPRETER	The general is content to spare thee yet, And, hoodwinked as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life.
PAROLES	O let me live, And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show, Their force, their purposes; nay, I’ll speak that Which you will wonder at.
INTERPRETER	But wilt thou faithfully?
PAROLES	If I do not, damn me.
INTERPRETER	Acordo linta.— Come on, thou art granted space. 90
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Second Lord Dumaine and a Soldier
INTERPRETER	A short alarum within
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
INTERPRETER	Go tell the Count Roussillon and my brother We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them.
SOLDIER	Captain, I will.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
SOLDIER	A will betray us all unto ourselves. Inform on that.
SOLDIER	So I will, sir.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE
SOLDIER	Till then I’ll keep him dark and safely locked.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Secondo Signore Dumaine, con cinque o sei altri soldati, in imboscata
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Non può venire per altra via che da quest’angolo di siepe. Quando gli piombate addosso, parlate qualunque lingua terribile vi piaccia. Anche se voi stessi non la capite, non importa, perché non dobbiamo sembrare di capire lui, tranne uno fra noi, che dovremo produrre come interprete. 6
INTERPRETE	Buon capitano, lasciate che io sia l’interprete.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Non sei suo conoscente? Non conosce la tua voce?
INTERPRETE	No, signore, ve lo garantisco.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Ma che accozzaglia di lana e lino hai da rispondere a noi?
INTERPRETE	Proprio quella che voi parlate a me.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Deve crederci qualche banda di stranieri al servizio dell’avversario. Ora, egli ha un’infarinatura di tutte le lingue vicine, perciò ognuno di noi dev’essere uomo della propria fantasia. Non sapere ciò che ci diciamo l’uno all’altro, purché sembriamo saperlo, è sapere subito il nostro scopo: lingua di cornacchie, gracchiare quanto basta e va bene abbastanza. Quanto a te, interprete, devi sembrare molto astuto. Ma giù, olà! Eccolo che viene, a ingannare due ore in un sonno, e poi a tornare e giurare le bugie che forgia.
(didascalia)	Si nascondono. Entra Paroles. L’orologio suona
PAROLES	Dieci all’orologio. Entro queste tre ore ci sarà tempo abbastanza per tornare a casa. Che dirò d’aver fatto? Deve essere un’invenzione molto plausibile per riuscirci. Cominciano a sospettarmi, e le disgrazie hanno di recente battuto troppo spesso alla mia porta. Trovo che la mia lingua è troppo temeraria, ma il mio cuore ha davanti a sé la paura di Marte e delle sue creature, e non osa i vanti della mia lingua. 31
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Questa è la prima verità di cui la tua stessa lingua si sia mai resa colpevole.
PAROLES	Che diavolo dovette spingermi a intraprendere il ricupero di questo tamburo, non essendo ignaro dell’impossibilità, e sapendo che non ne avevo l’intenzione? Devo darmi qualche ferita, e dire che le presi nell’impresa. Ma quelle leggere non basteranno. Diranno: «Ne siete uscito con così poco?» E grandi non oso darmene. Perciò, qual è la prova? Lingua, devo metterti nella bocca d’una lattaia e comprarmene un’altra dal muto di Bajazet, se mi chiacchieri dentro questi pericoli.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) È possibile che sappia quel che è, ed essere quel che è?
PAROLES	Vorrei che il tagliarmi le vesti bastasse allo scopo, o il rompere la mia spada spagnola.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Non possiamo concedertelo a questo prezzo.
PAROLES	O il radermi la barba, e dire che fu per stratagemma.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Non basterebbe.
PAROLES	O l’affogare i miei abiti, e dire che fui spogliato.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Basterebbe a fatica.
(didascalia)	PAROLES E se giurassi d’essere saltato dalla finestra della cittadella? 55 SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Da che altezza?
PAROLES	Trenta braccia.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Tre grandi giuramenti a fatica lo farebbero credere.
PAROLES	Vorrei avere un qualsiasi tamburo del nemico. Giurerei d’averlo ricuperato.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Ne udirai uno fra poco.
(didascalia)	PAROLES Un tamburo ora del nemico—Allarme dentro. L’imboscata si slancia fuori
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
(didascalia)	SOLDATI (separatamente) Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.
(didascalia)	Lo afferrano e gli bendano gli occhi
PAROLES	Oh riscatto, riscatto, non mi coprite gli occhi.
INTERPRETE	Boskos thromuldo boskos.
PAROLES	So che siete il reggimento di Mosca, e perderò la vita per mancanza di lingua. Se c’è qui un Tedesco o un Danese, un Olandese, un Italiano o un Francese, che mi parli, rivelerò ciò che rovinerà il Fiorentino.
INTERPRETE	Boskos vauvado.— Ti capisco, e posso parlare la tua lingua.— Kerelybonto.—Signore, raccomandati alla tua fede, perché diciassette pugnali sono al tuo petto.
PAROLES	Oh!
INTERPRETE	Oh prega, prega, prega!— Manka revania dulche? 80
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE
INTERPRETE	Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
INTERPRETE	Il generale è contento di risparmiarti per ora, e, incappucciato come sei, ti condurrà avanti per raccogliere da te. Forse potrai informare di qualcosa che salvi la tua vita.
PAROLES	Oh lasciatemi vivere, e mostrerò tutti i segreti del nostro campo, le loro forze, i loro propositi; anzi, dirò cose di cui vi meraviglierete.
INTERPRETE	Ma lo farai fedelmente?
PAROLES	Se non lo faccio, ch’io sia dannato.
INTERPRETE	Acordo linta.— Avanti, ti è concessa tregua. 90
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne il Secondo Signore Dumaine e un Soldato
INTERPRETE	Un breve allarme dentro
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE
INTERPRETE	Va’ a dire al conte di Rossiglione e a mio fratello che abbiamo preso la beccaccia, e lo terremo imbacuccato finché non udiamo da loro.
SOLDATO	Capitano, così farò.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE
SOLDATO	Ci tradirà tutti a noi stessi. Informane.
SOLDATO	Così farò, signore.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE
SOLDATO	Fino allora lo terrò all’oscuro e ben serrato.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram and the maid called Diana
BERTRAM	They told me that your name was Fontibel.
DIANA	No, my good lord, Diana.
BERTRAM	Titled goddess, And worth it, with addition. But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality? If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden but a monument. When you are dead you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stern, And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was got.
DIANA	She then was honest.
BERTRAM	So should you be.
DIANA	No. My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM) No more o’ that. I prithee do not strive against my vows. I was compelled to her, but I love thee By love’s own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service.
DIANA	Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you. But when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness. BERTRAM) How have I sworn!
DIANA	‘Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vowed true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the high’st to witness; then pray you, tell me, If I should swear by Jove’s great attributes I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths When I did love you ill? This has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions but unsealed, At least in my opinion. BERTRAM) Change it, change it. Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy, And my integrity ne’er knew the crafts That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever.
DIANA	I see that men make toys e’en such a surance That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
BERTRAM	I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me.
DIANA	Will you not, my lord?
BERTRAM	It is an honour ‘longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i’th’ world In me to lose.
DIANA	Mine honour’s such a ring. My chastity’s the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i’th’ world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom 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 bond of truth, When you have conquered 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 delivered— 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.
DIANA	For which live long to thank both heaven and me.
(didascalia)	You may so in the end. Exit Bertram
DIANA	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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Bertram e la fanciulla chiamata Diana
BERTRAM	Mi dissero che il vostro nome era Fontibel.
DIANA	No, mio buon signore, Diana.
BERTRAM	Nome di dea, e ne siete degna, e di più. Ma, bella anima, nella vostra fine struttura l’amore non ha qualità? Se il vivo fuoco della gioventù non v’accende la mente, non siete fanciulla ma monumento. Quando sarete morta dovreste essere tale quale siete adesso, perché siete fredda e severa, e ora dovreste essere come vostra madre fu quando il vostro dolce essere fu generato.
DIANA	Ella allora fu onesta.
BERTRAM	Così dovreste essere voi.
DIANA	No. Mia madre fece solo il suo dovere; tale, mio signore, quale voi dovete a vostra moglie. BERTRAM) Basta di questo. Ti prego, non lottare contro i miei voti. A lei fui costretto, ma te amo per la dolce costrizione dell’amore stesso, e per sempre ti renderò ogni diritto di servizio.
DIANA	Sì, così ci servite finché noi non serviamo voi. Ma quando avete le nostre rose, ci lasciate appena le spine per pungerci, e ci schernite della nostra nudità. BERTRAM) Come ho giurato!
DIANA	Non sono i molti giuramenti che fanno la verità, ma il semplice voto unico giurato con sincerità. Ciò che non è santo, per quello non giuriamo, ma prendiamo a testimone l’altissimo; dunque, vi prego, ditemi: se giurassi per i grandi attributi di Giove che v’amo caramente, credereste ai miei giuramenti quando male v’amassi? Non ha tenuta giurare per colui che protesto d’amare che opererò contro di lui. Perciò i vostri giuramenti sono parole e povere clausole, ma non sigillate, almeno a mio parere. BERTRAM) Cambia parere, cambia. Non essere così santamente crudele. L’Amore è santo, e la mia integrità non conobbe mai le astuzie di cui accusi gli uomini. Non stare più in disparte, ma dàtti ai miei desideri malati, che allora guariscono. Di’ che sei mia, e sempre il mio amore, come comincia, così persisterà.
DIANA	Vedo che gli uomini fanno giocattoli d’una tale garanzia che noi abbandoniamo noi stesse. Datemi quell’anello.
BERTRAM	Te lo presterò, mia cara, ma non ho potere di darlo via da me.
DIANA	Non volete, mio signore?
BERTRAM	È un onore appartenente alla nostra casa, tramandato da molti antenati, e sarebbe la più grande infamia del mondo ch’io lo perdessi.
DIANA	Il mio onore è un tale anello. La mia castità è il gioiello della nostra casa, tramandato da molti antenati, e sarebbe la più grande infamia del mondo ch’io lo perdessi. Così la vostra propria saggezza chiama in campo l’Onore come mio campione contro il vostro vano assalto. BERTRAM) Ecco, prendi il mio anello. La mia casa, il mio onore, sì la mia vita sia tua, e sarò ai tuoi comandi.
DIANA	Quando viene mezzanotte, battete alla finestra della mia camera. Provvederò che mia madre non senta. Ora v’ingiungerò, nel vincolo della verità, quando avrete conquistato il mio letto ancora virgineo, di restarvi solo un’ora, e di non parlarmi— le mie ragioni sono fortissime, e le conoscerete quando quest’anello vi sarà restituito— e al vostro dito nella notte porrò un altro anello, sì che ciò che nel tempo procede possa attestare al futuro le nostre azioni passate. Addio fino allora; allora, non mancate. Avete conquistato in me una moglie, sebbene lì la mia speranza sia finita.
BERTRAM	Un cielo in terra ho conquistato corteggiandoti.
DIANA	Per il quale vivete lungamente a ringraziare il cielo e me.
(didascalia)	Potreste farlo alla fine. Esce Bertram
DIANA	Mia madre mi disse proprio come avrebbe corteggiato, come se sedesse nel suo cuore. Dice che tutti gli uomini hanno simili giuramenti. Aveva giurato di sposarmi quando sua moglie fosse morta; perciò giacerò con lui quando io sarò sepolta. Poiché i Francesi sono così falsi, si mariti chi vuole; io vivo e muoio fanciulla. Solo, in questo travestimento non credo sia peccato ingannare chi vorrebbe vincere ingiustamente. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the two Captains Dumaine and some two or three soldiers
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	You have not given him his mother’s letter?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I have delivered it an hour since. There is something in’t that stings his nature, for on the reading it he changed almost into another man.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	When you have spoken it ’tis dead, and I am the grave of it.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Now God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o’erflows himself.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company tonight?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	We will not meddle with him till he come, for his presence must be the whip of the other.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I hear there is an overture of peace.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	What will Count Roussillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	I perceive by this demand you are not altogether of his council.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 accomplished, 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.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	How is this justified?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 confirmed by the rector of the place.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Hath the Count all this intelligence?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	I am heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears. The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not, and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
(didascalia)	Enter a Servant
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	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 DUMAINE	They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE They cannot be too sweet for the King’s tartness. Here’s his lordship now. How now, my lord, is’t not after midnight?
BERTRAM	I have tonight dispatched sixteen businesses, a month’s length apiece. By an abstract of success: I have congéd with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest, buried a wife, mourned for her, writ to my lady mother I am returning, entertained my convoy, and between these main parcels of dispatch affected many nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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 model, has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Bring him forth. Exit one or more He’s sat i’th’ stocks all night, poor gallant knave. 105
BERTRAM	No matter, his heels have deserved it in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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 confessed 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 confessed?
BERTRAM	Nothing of me, has a?
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles guarded and blindfolded, with the Interpreter
BERTRAM	A plague upon him! Muffled! He can say nothing of me.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE (aside to Bertram) Hush, hush.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE (aside to Bertram) Hoodman comes. (Aloud) Porto tartarossa.
INTERPRETER	(to Paroles) He calls for the tortures. What will you say without ’em?
PAROLES	I will confess what I know without constraint. If ye pinch me like a pasty I can say no more.
INTERPRETER	Bosko chimurcho.
(didascalia)	SECOND LORD DUMAINE Boblibindo chicurmurco.
INTERPRETER	You are a merciful general.—Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.
PAROLES	And truly, as I hope to live.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER reads ‘First demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong.’—What say you to that?
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	Shall I set down your answer so? 139
PAROLES	Do. I’ll take the sacrament on’t, how and which way you will.
(didascalia)	FIRST LORD DUMAINE (aside) All’s one to him.
BERTRAM	(aside) What a past-saving slave is this!
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) You’re deceived, my lord. This is Monsieur Paroles, 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.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) 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.
INTERPRETER	(to Paroles) Well, that’s set down.
PAROLES	‘Five or six thousand horse,’ I said—I will say true—’or thereabouts’ set down, for I’ll speak truth.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) He’s very near the truth in this.
BERTRAM	(aside) But I con him no thanks for’t in the nature he delivers it.
PAROLES	‘Poor rogues’, I pray you say.
INTERPRETER	Well, that’s set down.
PAROLES	I humbly thank you, sir. A truth’s a truth. The rogues are marvellous poor.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER reads ‘Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.’-What say you to that?
PAROLES	By my troth, sir, if I were to die this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred and fifty; Sebastian so many; Corambus so many; Jaques so many; Guillaume, 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	(aside) What shall be done to him? 175
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Nothing, but let him have thanks. (To Interpreter) Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the Duke.
(didascalia)	INTERPRETER (to Paroles) Well, that’s set down. Reads ‘You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumaine be i’th’ camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the Duke; what his valour, honesty, and 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? 186
PAROLES	I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the inter’gatories. Demand them singly.
INTERPRETER	Do you know this Captain Dumaine?
PAROLES	I know him. A was a botcher’s prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff’s fool with child—dumb innocent that could not say him nay. 193
BERTRAM	(aside to First Lord Dumaine) Nay, by your leave, hold your hands, though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.
INTERPRETER	Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence’s camp?
PAROLES	Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. 199
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Nay, look not so upon me: we shall hear of your lordship anon.
INTERPRETER	What is his reputation with the Duke?
PAROLES	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. 206 INTERPRETER Marry, we’ll search.
PAROLES	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. 210
INTERPRETER	Here ’tis, here’s a paper. Shall I read it to you?
PAROLES	I do not know if it be it or no.
BERTRAM	(aside) Our interpreter does it well.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Excellently.
INTERPRETER	(reads the letter) ‘Dian, the Count’s a fool, and full of gold.’
PAROLES	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 Roussillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again.
INTERPRETER	Nay, I’ll read it first, by your favour.
PAROLES	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 (aside) Damnable both-sides rogue.
INTERPRETER	(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 vowed to thee in thine ear, Paroles.’
BERTRAM	(aside) He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in’s forehead.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier.
BERTRAM	(aside) I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he’s a cat to me.
INTERPRETER	I perceive, sir, by the general’s looks, we shall be fain to hang you.
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	We’ll see what may be done, so you confess freely. Therefore once more to this Captain Dumaine. You have answered to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honesty?
PAROLES	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; but they about him know 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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) I begin to love him for this.
BERTRAM	(aside) For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For me, he’s more and more a cat.
INTERPRETER	What say you to his expertness in war?
PAROLES	Faith, sir, he’s led the drum before the English tragedians. To belie him I will not, and more of his soldiership 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.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	(aside) He hath out-villained villainy so far that the rarity redeems him.
BERTRAM	(aside) A pox on him! He’s a cat still.
INTERPRETER	His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.
PAROLES	Sir, for a quart d‘écu 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.
INTERPRETER	What’s his brother, the other Captain Dumaine? 285
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	(aside) Why does he ask him of me?
INTERPRETER	What’s he?
PAROLES	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.
INTERPRETER	If your life be saved will you undertake to betray the Florentine? 295
PAROLES	Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Roussillon.
INTERPRETER	I’ll whisper with the general and know his pleasure.
PAROLES	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?
INTERPRETER	There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says you that have so traitorously discovered 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, off with his head. 310
PAROLES	O Lord, sir!—Let me live, or let me see my death!
INTERPRETER	That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. He unmuffles Paroles So, look about you. Know you any here?
BERTRAM	Good morrow, noble captain. 315
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	God bless you, Captain Paroles.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	God save you, noble captain.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE	Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE	Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Roussillon? An I were not a very coward I’d compel it of you. But fare you well.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Paroles and Interpreter
INTERPRETER	You are undone, captain-all but your scarf; that has a knot on’t yet. 325
PAROLES	Who cannot be crushed with a plot?
INTERPRETER	If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir. I am for France too. We shall speak of you there. Exit
PAROLES	Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great ‘Twould burst at this. Captain I’ll be no more, But I will eat and drink and sleep as soft As captain shall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this, for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and Paroles live Safest in shame; being fooled, by fool’ry thrive. There’s place and means for every man alive. I’ll after them. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i due Capitani Dumaine e due o tre soldati
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non gli avete dato la lettera di sua madre?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	L’ho consegnata un’ora fa. C’è qualcosa dentro che punge la sua natura, perché alla lettura egli è quasi mutato in un altro uomo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Gli si addossa molto meritato biasimo per aver scrollato via una moglie così buona e una signora così dolce.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Soprattutto ha incorso nell’eterno dispiacere del Re, che aveva perfino accordato la sua liberalità per cantargli felicità. Vi dirò una cosa, ma dovrete lasciarla dimorare all’oscuro presso di voi.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Quando l’avrete detta è morta, e io ne sono il sepolcro.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Ha pervertito qui in Firenze una giovane gentildonna di castissima fama, e questa notte sazia la sua voglia nella spoglia del suo onore. Le ha dato il suo anello monumentale, e si crede fatto in quella composizione impura.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Ora Dio ritardi la nostra ribellione! Come siamo noi stessi, che cose siamo!
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Meri traditori di noi stessi. E come nel corso comune di tutti i tradimenti li vediamo sempre rivelarsi finché raggiungono i loro aborriti fini, così colui che in quest’azione trama contro la propria nobiltà, nel proprio flusso trabocca da sé.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non è ritenuto dannabile in noi essere trombettieri dei nostri intenti illeciti? Non avremo dunque la sua compagnia stanotte?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non prima di dopo mezzanotte, perché è messo a dieta fino alla sua ora.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Che s’avvicina a gran passi. Vorrei volentieri che vedesse anatomizzato il suo compagno, per poter prendere la misura dei propri giudizi, nei quali con tanta cura aveva incastonato questo falso.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non ci occuperemo di lui finché non venga, perché la sua presenza deve essere il flagello dell’altro.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Nel frattempo, che sentite di queste guerre?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sento che c’è un’apertura di pace.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Anzi, v’assicuro, una pace conclusa.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Che farà allora il conte di Rossiglione? Viaggerà più oltre, o tornerà di nuovo in Francia?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Vedo da questa domanda che non siete del tutto nel suo consiglio.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Dio non voglia, signore; altrimenti sarei per gran parte complice del suo atto.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Signore, sua moglie, circa due mesi fa, fuggì dalla sua casa. Il suo pretesto è un pellegrinaggio a San Giacomo il Grande, santa impresa che con austerissima devozione compì; e là dimorando, la tenerezza della sua natura divenne preda del suo dolore: in fine, fece un gemito del suo ultimo respiro, e ora canta in cielo.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Come è comprovato questo?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	La parte più forte per le sue proprie lettere, che rendono vera la sua storia fino al punto della sua morte. La sua morte stessa, che non poteva essere suo ufficio dire che era venuta, fu fedelmente confermata dal rettore del luogo.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Ha il Conte tutte queste notizie?
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Sì, e le conferme particolari, punto per punto, fino al pieno armamento della verità.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Mi dispiace di cuore che ne sarà contento.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Con quanta forza a volte ci facciamo conforto delle nostre perdite.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	E con quanta forza altre volte affoghiamo il nostro guadagno nelle lacrime. La grande dignità che il suo valore gli ha qui acquistato sarà a casa incontrata da una vergogna altrettanto ampia.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	La tela della nostra vita è d’un filo mescolato, bene e male insieme. Le nostre virtù sarebbero superbe se le nostre colpe non le frustassero, e i nostri delitti dispererebbero se non fossero accarezzati dalle nostre virtù.
(didascalia)	Entra un Servo
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Ebbene? Dov’è il tuo padrone?
SERVANT	Ha incontrato il Duca nella strada, signore, dal quale ha preso solenne congedo. Sua signoria partirà domattina per la Francia. Il Duca gli ha offerto lettere di raccomandazione per il Re.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Non saranno più che necessarie là, quand’anche fossero più di quanto possano raccomandare.
(didascalia)	Entra Bertram
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE Non possono essere troppo dolci per l’asprezza del Re. Ecco ora sua signoria. Ebbene, mio signore, non è passata mezzanotte?
BERTRAM	Stanotte ho sbrigato sedici affari, ciascuno lungo un mese. In un compendio di successo: ho preso congé dal Duca, fatto il mio addio ai suoi più intimi, seppellito una moglie, pianto per lei, scritto alla mia signora madre che torno, provveduto alla mia scorta, e fra queste principali partite di sbrigo ho compiuto molti bisogni più delicati. L’ultimo era il maggiore, ma quello non l’ho ancora finito.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Se l’affare è di qualche difficoltà, e stamattina è la vostra partenza di qui, richiede fretta da vostra signoria.
BERTRAM	Voglio dire che l’affare non è finito, temendo d’averne a sentir parlare in seguito. Ma avremo questo dialogo fra il Buffone e il Soldato? Su, portate avanti questo modello contraffatto, che m’ha ingannato come un profeta dal doppio senso.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Portatelo avanti. Esce uno o più È stato in gogna tutta la notte, povero furfante galante. 105
BERTRAM	Non importa, i suoi calcagni l’han meritato, usurpando così a lungo i suoi sproni. Come si comporta?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	L’ho già detto a vostra signoria: la gogna lo porta. Ma per rispondervi come volete essere inteso, piange come una serva che abbia versato il latte. S’è confessato a Morgan, che egli suppone essere un frate, dal tempo della sua memoria fino a questo stesso disastro del suo esser messo in gogna. E che credete che abbia confessato?
BERTRAM	Nulla di me, vero?
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	La sua confessione è presa, e gli sarà letta in faccia. Se vostra signoria vi è dentro, come credo che sia, dovrete avere la pazienza d’ascoltarla.
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles sotto scorta e con gli occhi bendati, con l’Interprete
BERTRAM	La peste su lui! Incappucciato! Non può dir nulla di me.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte a Bertram) Zitto, zitto.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte a Bertram) Viene il cieco bendato. (Ad alta voce) Porto tartarossa.
INTERPRETE	(a Paroles) Chiama le torture. Che dirai senza di esse?
PAROLES	Confesserò ciò che so senza costrizione. Se mi pizzicate come un pasticcio, non posso dire di più.
INTERPRETE	Bosko chimurcho.
(didascalia)	SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE Boblibindo chicurmurco.
INTERPRETE	Siete un generale misericordioso.—Il nostro generale ti ordina di rispondere a ciò che ti chiederò da una nota.
PAROLES	E con verità, come spero di vivere.
(didascalia)	L’INTERPRETE legge «Prima chiedigli di quanti cavalli è forte il Duca.»—Che dici a questo?
PAROLES	Cinque o seimila, ma molto debole e inservibile. Le truppe sono tutte sparse e i comandanti poverissimi furfanti, sulla mia reputazione e sul mio credito, e come spero di vivere.
INTERPRETE	Devo mettere per iscritto così la tua risposta? 139
PAROLES	Fatelo. Ne prenderò il sacramento, come e in qual modo volete.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE (a parte) Per lui è tutt’uno.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Che schiavo insalvabile è questo!
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) V’ingannate, mio signore. Questo è Monsieur Paroles, il «galante militarista»—era la sua propria frase—che aveva tutta la teorica della guerra nel nodo della sua sciarpa, e la pratica nel puntale del suo pugnale.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Non mi fiderò mai più d’un uomo per il fatto che tiene pulita la spada, né crederò che possa avere ogni cosa in sé perché porta con eleganza i suoi abiti.
INTERPRETE	(a Paroles) Bene, questo è messo per iscritto.
PAROLES	«Cinque o seimila cavalli», dissi—dirò il vero—«o giù di lì», mettete per iscritto, perché dirò la verità.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) In questo è molto vicino alla verità.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Ma non gliene rendo grazie, per il modo di natura in cui lo dice.
PAROLES	«Poveri furfanti», vi prego, scrivete.
INTERPRETE	Bene, questo è messo per iscritto.
PAROLES	Umilmente vi ringrazio, signore. Una verità è una verità. I furfanti sono meravigliosamente poveri.
(didascalia)	L’INTERPRETE legge «Chiedigli di quale forza siano a piedi.»—Che dici a questo?
PAROLES	In fede mia, signore, se dovessi morire in quest’ora presente, dirò il vero. Vediamo: Spurio centocinquanta; Sebastian altrettanti; Corambus altrettanti; Jaques altrettanti; Guillaume, Cosmo, Lodowick e Gratii, duecentocinquanta ciascuno; la mia propria compagnia, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, duecentocinquanta ciascuno. Sì che il ruolo della rassegna, guasti e sani, sulla mia vita non ammonta a quindicimila teste, la metà dei quali non osa scuotere la neve dalle proprie casacche per timore di scuotersi in pezzi.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Che gli si farà? 175
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Nulla, ma che gli si rendano grazie. (All’Interprete) Chiedigli la mia condizione, e quale credito io abbia col Duca.
(didascalia)	L’INTERPRETE (a Paroles) Bene, questo è messo per iscritto. Legge «Gli chiederai se un certo capitano Dumaine sia nel campo, un Francese; quale sia la sua reputazione presso il Duca; quale il suo valore, la sua onestà e la sua perizia nelle guerre; ovvero se non creda che sarebbe possibile, con somme d’oro bene pesate, corromperlo a una rivolta.»—Che dici a questo? Che ne sai? 186
PAROLES	Vi supplico, lasciate che risponda al particolare degli interrogatori. Chiedeteli uno per uno.
INTERPRETE	Conosci questo capitano Dumaine?
PAROLES	Lo conosco. Era garzone d’un rappezzatore a Parigi, da dove fu frustato per aver fatto un figlio alla matta dello sceriffo—muta innocente che non poteva dirgli no. 193
BERTRAM	(a parte al Primo Signore Dumaine) Su, con vostra licenza, trattenete le mani, sebbene io sappia che le sue cervella sono destinate alla prima tegola che cade.
INTERPRETE	Bene, è questo capitano nel campo del Duca di Firenze?
PAROLES	A mia conoscenza sì, e pieno di pidocchi. 199
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Su, non guardatemi così: sentiremo parlare di vostra signoria fra poco.
INTERPRETE	Qual è la sua reputazione presso il Duca?
PAROLES	Il Duca non lo conosce per altro che per un povero ufficiale mio, e mi scrisse l’altro giorno di cacciarlo dalla banda. Credo d’avere la sua lettera in tasca. 206 INTERPRETE Davvero, cercheremo.
PAROLES	In tutta serietà, non lo so. O è là, o sta in un fascicolo con le altre lettere del Duca nella mia tenda. 210
INTERPRETE	Eccola qui, ecco una carta. Devo leggertela?
PAROLES	Non so se sia quella o no.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Il nostro interprete lo fa bene.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Eccellentemente.
INTERPRETE	(legge la lettera) «Diana, il Conte è uno sciocco, e pieno d’oro.»
PAROLES	Quella non è la lettera del Duca, signore. È un avvertimento a una brava fanciulla in Firenze, una certa Diana, di guardarsi dalle lusinghe d’un certo conte di Rossiglione, un ragazzo sciocco e ozioso, ma con tutto ciò molto libidinoso. Vi prego, signore, rimettetela via.
INTERPRETE	Anzi, la leggerò prima, con vostra licenza.
PAROLES	La mia intenzione in essa, lo protesto, era onestissima a favore della fanciulla, perché sapevo che il giovane Conte era un ragazzo pericoloso e lascivo, che è una balena per la verginità, e divora tutto il pesciolino che trova. BERTRAM (a parte) Furfante dannabile a doppia faccia.
INTERPRETE	(legge) «Quando giura giuramenti, fagli sborsare l’oro, e prendilo. Dopo che ha segnato il conto, non paga mai il conto. Mezzo vinto è patto bene fatto; pattuisci, e fallo bene. Non paga mai i debiti posticipati: prendi prima. E di’ che un soldato, Diana, ti disse questo: con gli uomini si può trattare, i ragazzi non si baciano. In conto di questo, il Conte è uno sciocco, lo so io, che paga prima, ma non quando è debitore. Tuo, come te lo giurò all’orecchio, Paroles.»
BERTRAM	(a parte) Sarà frustato attraverso l’esercito con questa rima sulla fronte.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Questo è il vostro devoto amico, signore, il linguista multiforme e il soldato armipotente.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Prima potevo sopportare qualunque cosa fuorché un gatto, e ora egli è un gatto per me.
INTERPRETE	M’accorgo, signore, dagli sguardi del generale, che dovremo impiccarti.
PAROLES	La mia vita, signore, in ogni caso! Non che io abbia paura di morire, ma perché, essendo le mie offese molte, vorrei pentirmi per tutto il resto della natura. Lasciatemi vivere, signore, in una prigione sotterranea, in gogna, o dove che sia, purché possa vivere.
INTERPRETE	Vedremo che si può fare, purché confessi liberamente. Perciò, ancora una volta, a questo capitano Dumaine. Hai risposto sulla sua reputazione presso il Duca, e sul suo valore. Qual è la sua onestà?
PAROLES	Ruberebbe, signore, un uovo da un chiostro. Per stupri e ratti è pari a Nesso. Non professa il mantenere i giuramenti; nel romperli è più forte d’Ercole. Mentirà, signore, con tale scioltezza che crederesti la verità una sciocca. L’ubriachezza è la sua miglior virtù, perché s’ubriaca come un porco, e nel suo sonno fa poco male, salvo alle sue lenzuola; ma quelli che gli stanno intorno conoscono le sue abitudini e lo mettono a giacere nella paglia. Ho poco più da dire, signore, sulla sua onestà. Ha tutto ciò che un uomo onesto non dovrebbe avere; di ciò che un uomo onesto dovrebbe avere, non ha nulla.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Comincio ad amarlo per questo.
BERTRAM	(a parte) Per questa descrizione della tua onestà? La peste su lui! Per me è sempre più un gatto.
INTERPRETE	Che dici della sua perizia in guerra?
PAROLES	In fede, signore, ha battuto il tamburo davanti agli attori tragici inglesi. Non voglio calunniarlo, e altro della sua arte militare non so, tranne che in quel paese ebbe l’onore d’essere l’ufficiale in un luogo là chiamato Mile End, per istruire al raddoppio delle file. Vorrei rendere a quell’uomo tutto l’onore che posso, ma di questo non sono certo.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Ha superato in scelleratezza la scelleratezza stessa tanto che la rarità lo redime.
BERTRAM	(a parte) La peste su lui! È sempre un gatto.
INTERPRETE	Essendo le sue qualità a questo povero prezzo, non ho bisogno di chiederti se l’oro lo corromperà alla rivolta.
PAROLES	Signore, per un quarto d’écu venderà la piena proprietà della sua salvezza, l’eredità di essa, e taglierà il vincolo da ogni successore, e una perpetua successione per essa, perpetuamente.
INTERPRETE	Che è suo fratello, l’altro capitano Dumaine? 285
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	(a parte) Perché gli chiede di me?
INTERPRETE	Che è lui?
PAROLES	Proprio un corvo dello stesso nido. Non del tutto così grande come il primo in bontà, ma di gran lunga più grande nel male. Supera suo fratello per codardia, e pure suo fratello è reputato uno dei migliori che ci siano. In una ritirata corre più d’ogni lacchè; ma sì, nell’andare avanti gli vengono i crampi.
INTERPRETE	Se la tua vita è salvata, ti impegni a tradire il Fiorentino? 295
PAROLES	Sì, e il capitano della sua cavalleria, il conte di Rossiglione.
INTERPRETE	Sussurrerò col generale e conoscerò il suo piacere.
PAROLES	Non più tamburi. La peste su tutti i tamburi! Solo per sembrare di meritar bene, e per ingannare l’opinione di quel lascivo giovane ragazzo, il Conte, sono corso in questo pericolo. Eppure chi avrebbe sospettato un’imboscata là dove fui preso?
INTERPRETE	Non c’è rimedio, signore, ma devi morire. Il generale dice che tu, che hai così traditoramente svelato i segreti del tuo esercito, e fatto rapporti così pestiferi d’uomini tenuti in gran nobiltà, non puoi servire al mondo per nessun uso onesto; perciò devi morire.—Su, carnefice, giù la sua testa. 310
PAROLES	Oh Signore, signore!—Lasciatemi vivere, o lasciatemi vedere la mia morte!
INTERPRETE	Questo sì, e prendi congedo da tutti i tuoi amici. Scopre il volto a Paroles Su, guardati intorno. Conosci qualcuno qui?
BERTRAM	Buon giorno, nobile capitano. 315
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Dio vi benedica, capitano Paroles.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Dio vi salvi, nobile capitano.
SECONDO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Capitano, che saluto volete per il mio signore di Lafeu? Io parto per la Francia.
PRIMO SIGNORE DUMAINE	Buon capitano, volete darmi una copia del sonetto che scrivesti a Diana a favore del conte di Rossiglione? Se non fossi un gran codardo ve lo estorcerei. Ma statevi bene.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Paroles e l’Interprete
INTERPRETE	Siete rovinato, capitano—tutto tranne la vostra sciarpa; quella ha ancora un nodo. 325
PAROLES	Chi non può essere schiacciato da una trama?
INTERPRETE	Se potessi trovare un paese dove ci fossero soltanto donne che avessero ricevuto tanta vergogna, potreste fondare una nazione impudente. Statevi bene, signore. Anch’io parto per la Francia. Parleremo di voi là. Esce
PAROLES	Pure sono grato. Se il mio cuore fosse grande scoppierebbe a questo. Capitano non sarò più, ma mangerò e berrò e dormirò tanto morbido quanto un capitano. Semplicemente la cosa che sono mi farà vivere. Chi si conosce spaccone, tema questo, perché avverrà che ogni spaccone sarà trovato un asino. Ruggini, spada; raffreddatevi, rossori; e Paroles viva più sicuro nella vergogna; beffato, per buffoneria prosperi. C’è posto e mezzi per ogni uomo vivente. Andrò dietro a loro. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, the Widow, and Diana
HELEN	That you may well perceive I have not wronged you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; fore whose throne ‘tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. Time was, I did him a desired office Dear almost as his life; which gratitude Through flinty Tartar’s bosom would peep forth And answer ‘Thanks’. I duly am informed His grace is at Marseilles, to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead. The army breaking, My husband hies him home, where, heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the King, We’ll be before our welcome.
WIDOW	Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome.
HELEN	Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter’s dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband. But O, strange men, That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozened thoughts Defiles the pitchy night; so lust doth play With what it loathes, for that which is away. But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf.
DIANA	Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours, Upon your will to suffer.
HELEN	Yet, I pray you.— But with that word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns And be as sweet as sharp. We must away, Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us. All’s well that ends well; still the fine’s the crown. Whate’er the course, the end is the renown.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Elena, la Vedova e Diana
HELEN	Perché possiate bene vedere che non v’ho fatto torto, uno dei più grandi del mondo cristiano sarà la mia garanzia; davanti al cui trono è necessario, prima ch’io possa compiere i miei intenti, inginocchiarsi. Un tempo fu, gli resi un servizio desiderato caro quasi come la sua vita; e tale gratitudine attraverso il petto selcioso d’un Tartaro spunterebbe e risponderebbe «Grazie». Sono debitamente informata che sua grazia è a Marsiglia, e a quel luogo abbiamo comoda scorta. Dovete sapere che mi si crede morta. Sciogliendosi l’esercito, mio marito s’affretta a casa, dove, col cielo propizio, e col permesso del mio buon signore il Re, saremo là prima del nostro benvenuto.
VEDOVA	Gentile signora, mai avete avuto una serva alla cui fiducia il vostro affare fosse più gradito.
HELEN	Né voi, padrona, mai un’amica i cui pensieri più veramente s’adoprino a ricompensare il vostro amore. Non dubitate che il cielo m’abbia allevata per essere la dote di vostra figlia, come ha destinato lei a essere il mio motivo e l’aiuto a un marito. Ma oh, strani uomini, che sanno fare sì dolce uso di ciò che odiano, quando l’insolente fiducia dei pensieri ingannati profana la notte di pece; così la lussuria scherza con ciò che detesta, per amor di ciò che è lontano. Ma di questo più tardi. Voi, Diana, sotto le mie povere istruzioni dovrete ancora patire qualcosa per me.
DIANA	Vadano la morte e l’onestà con le vostre imposizioni: sono vostra, pronta a patire secondo il vostro volere.
HELEN	Ancora, vi prego.— Ma con quella parola il tempo porterà l’estate, quando i roveti avranno foglie così bene come spine e saranno dolci quanto pungenti. Dobbiamo partire, il nostro carro è preparato, e il tempo ci ravviva. Tutto è bene quel che finisce bene; sempre la fine è la corona. Qualunque sia il corso, il fine è la rinomanza.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch, the old Countess, and Lafeu
LAFEU	No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Else, your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the King than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.
COUNTESS	I would a had not known him. It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a mother I could not have owed her a more rooted love.
LAFEU	‘Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.
LAVATCH	Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather the herb of grace.
LAFEU	They are not grass, you knave, they are nose-herbs.
LAVATCH	I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grace. 21
LAFEU	Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?
LAVATCH	A fool, sir, at a woman’s service, and a knave at a man’s.
LAFEU	Your distinction?
LAVATCH	I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.
LAFEU	So you were a knave at his service indeed.
LAVATCH	And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.
LAFEU	I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.
LAVATCH	At your service.
LAFEU	No, no, no. 35
LAVATCH	Why, sir, if I cannot serve you I can serve as great a prince as you are.
LAFEU	Who’s that? A Frenchman?
LAVATCH	Faith, sir, a has an English name, but his phys’namy is more hotter in France than there.
LAFEU	What prince is that?
LAVATCH	The Black Prince, sir, alias the prince of darkness, alias the devil.
LAFEU	Hold thee, there’s my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk’st of; serve him still.
LAVATCH	I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire, and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But since he is the prince of the world, let the nobility remain in’s court; I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may, but the many will be too chill and tender, and they’ll be for the flow’ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.
LAFEU	Go thy ways. I begin to be aweary of thee, and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways. Let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.
LAVATCH	If I put any tricks upon ’em, sir, they shall be jades’ tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. Exit
LAFEU	A shrewd knave and an unhappy.
COUNTESS	So a is. My lord that’s gone made himself much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness, and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will.
LAFEU	I like him well, ’tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady’s death and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the King my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance did first propose. His highness hath promised me to do it; and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?
COUNTESS	With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected.
LAFEU	His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty. A will be here tomorrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.
COUNTESS	It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here tonight. I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together.
LAFEU	Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.
COUNTESS	You need but plead your honourable privilege.
LAFEU	Lady, of that I have made a bold charter, but, I thank my God, it holds yet.
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch
LAVATCH	O madam, yonder’s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on’s face. Whether there be a scar under’t or no, the velvet knows; but ’tis a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.
LAFEU	A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv’ry of honour. So belike is that.
LAVATCH	But it is your carbonadoed face.
LAFEU	(to the Countess) Let us go see your son, I pray you. I long to talk with the young noble soldier.
LAVATCH	Faith, there’s a dozen of ’em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Lavatch, la vecchia Contessa e Lafeu
LAFEU	No, no, no, vostro figlio fu traviato da un tipo di taffetà tagliuzzato là, il cui scellerato zafferano avrebbe tinto del suo colore tutta la gioventù cruda e pastosa d’una nazione. Altrimenti vostra nuora sarebbe viva a quest’ora, e vostro figlio qui a casa, più innalzato dal Re che da quel bombo dalla coda rossa di cui parlo.
COUNTESS	Vorrei che non l’avesse mai conosciuto. Fu la morte della più virtuosa gentildonna che la natura abbia mai avuto lode d’aver creato. S’ella avesse partecipato della mia carne e m’avesse costato i più cari gemiti d’una madre, non avrei potuto portarle un amore più radicato.
LAFEU	Era una buona signora, era una buona signora. Possiamo cogliere mille insalate prima di trovare un’altra erba simile.
LAVATCH	In verità, signore, era la dolce maggiorana dell’insalata, o piuttosto l’erba della grazia.
LAFEU	Non sono erbaggi, furfante, sono erbe da odorare.
LAVATCH	Non sono un gran Nabucodonosor, signore, non ho molta perizia in erbe di grazia. 21
LAFEU	Che ti professi, un furfante o un buffone?
LAVATCH	Un buffone, signore, al servizio d’una donna, e un furfante a quello d’un uomo.
LAFEU	La tua distinzione?
LAVATCH	Ingannerei l’uomo togliendogli la moglie, e gli farei il suo servizio.
LAFEU	Così sareste davvero un furfante al suo servizio.
LAVATCH	E darei a sua moglie il mio bastone da buffone, signore, per farle servizio.
LAFEU	Sottoscriverò per te: sei insieme furfante e buffone.
LAVATCH	Al vostro servizio.
LAFEU	No, no, no. 35
LAVATCH	Ebbene, signore, se non posso servire voi posso servire un principe tanto grande quanto voi siete.
LAFEU	Chi è? Un Francese?
LAVATCH	In fede, signore, ha un nome inglese, ma la sua fisionomia è più calda in Francia che là.
LAFEU	Quale principe è quello?
LAVATCH	Il Principe Nero, signore, alias il principe delle tenebre, alias il diavolo.
LAFEU	Tieni, ecco la mia borsa. Non ti do questa per sviarti dal padrone di cui parli; servilo pure.
LAVATCH	Sono un uomo di bosco, signore, che ha sempre amato un gran fuoco, e il padrone di cui parlo tiene sempre un buon fuoco. Ma poiché egli è il principe di questo mondo, che la nobiltà resti nella sua corte; io sono per la casa dalla porta stretta, che ritengo troppo piccola perché la pompa v’entri. Alcuni che s’umiliano possono, ma i più saranno troppo freddolosi e delicati, e andranno per la via fiorita che conduce alla porta larga e al gran fuoco.
LAFEU	Va’ per la tua strada. Comincio a stancarmi di te, e te lo dico prima, perché non vorrei litigare con te. Va’ per la tua strada. Che si badi bene ai miei cavalli, senza tiri mancini.
LAVATCH	Se faccio loro qualche tiro, signore, saranno tiri da ronzini, che sono loro proprio diritto per legge di natura. Esce
LAFEU	Un furfante astuto e uno sventurato.
COUNTESS	Così è. Il mio signore che è morto si prendeva molto spasso con lui; per la sua autorità egli resta qui, cosa che crede sia una patente per la sua insolenza, e in verità non ha andatura, ma corre dove vuole.
LAFEU	Mi piace bene, non è male. E stavo per dirvi che, da quando ho udito della morte della buona signora e che il mio signore vostro figlio era in viaggio di ritorno a casa, ho sollecitato il Re mio padrone a parlare in favore di mia figlia; cosa che, nella minore età d’entrambi, sua maestà, per un ricordo di sé pieno di grazia, propose per prima. Sua altezza m’ha promesso di farlo; e per turare il dispiacere ch’egli ha concepito contro vostro figlio, non c’è materia più adatta. Come piace a vostra signoria?
COUNTESS	Con moltissima soddisfazione, mio signore, e desidero che si compia felicemente.
LAFEU	Sua altezza viene a marce forzate da Marsiglia, con un corpo tanto valido come quando contava trent’anni. Sarà qui domani, o m’inganna colui che in tali informazioni ha raramente fallito.
COUNTESS	Mi rallegra sperare che lo vedrò prima di morire. Ho lettere che dicono che mio figlio sarà qui stanotte. Supplicherò vostra signoria di restare con me finché s’incontrino.
LAFEU	Signora, stavo pensando con quali maniere potessi essere ammesso senza rischio.
COUNTESS	Non dovete che invocare il vostro onorevole privilegio.
LAFEU	Signora, di quello ho fatto una carta ardita, ma, grazie al mio Dio, tiene ancora.
(didascalia)	Entra Lavatch
LAVATCH	Oh signora, là c’è il mio signore vostro figlio con una toppa di velluto sul volto. Se sotto ci sia una cicatrice o no, il velluto lo sa; ma è una bella toppa di velluto. La sua guancia sinistra è una guancia a due peli e mezzo, ma la destra è consumata a nudo.
LAFEU	Una cicatrice nobilmente acquistata, o una nobile cicatrice, è una buona livrea d’onore. Così probabilmente è quella.
LAVATCH	Ma è la vostra faccia a fette per la graticola.
LAFEU	(alla Contessa) Andiamo a vedere vostro figlio, vi prego. Ho gran voglia di parlare col giovane nobile soldato.
LAVATCH	In fede, ce n’è una dozzina, con delicati bei cappelli e piume cortesissime, che chinano il capo e fanno cenno a ogni uomo.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Helen, the Widow, and Diana, with two attendants
HELEN	But this exceeding posting day and night Must wear your spirits low. We cannot help it. But since you have made the days and nights as one To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you.
(didascalia)	Enter a Gentleman Austringer
HELEN	In happy time! This man may help me to his majesty’s ear, If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir.
GENTLEMAN	And you.
HELEN	Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
GENTLEMAN	I have been sometimes there.
HELEN	I do presume, sir, that you are not fall’n From the report that goes upon your goodness, And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful.
GENTLEMAN	What’s your will?
HELEN	That it will please you To give this poor petition to the King, And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence.
GENTLEMAN	The King’s not here.
HELEN	Not here, sir?
GENTLEMAN	Not indeed. He hence removed last night, and with more haste Than is his use.
WIDOW	Lord, how we lose our pains.
HELEN	All’s well that ends well yet, Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.— I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
GENTLEMAN	Marry, as I take it, to Roussillon, Whither I am going.
HELEN	I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand, Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means.
GENTLEMAN	(taking the paper) This I’ll do for you.
HELEN	And you shall find yourself to be well thanked, Whate’er falls more. We must to horse again.— Go, go, provide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Elena, la Vedova e Diana, con due attendenti
HELEN	Ma questo eccessivo correre a staffetta giorno e notte deve abbattere i vostri spiriti. Non possiamo evitarlo. Ma poiché avete fatto dei giorni e delle notti una cosa sola per consumare le vostre gentili membra nei miei affari, siate certe che così crescete nella mia riconoscenza che nulla potrà sradicarvi.
(didascalia)	Entra un Gentiluomo Falconiere
HELEN	In buon tempo! Quest’uomo può aiutarmi a giungere all’orecchio di sua maestà, se volesse spendere il suo potere.—Dio vi salvi, signore.
GENTILUOMO	E voi.
HELEN	Signore, v’ho visto alla corte di Francia.
GENTILUOMO	Vi sono stato qualche volta.
HELEN	Presumo, signore, che voi non siate decaduto dalla fama che corre sulla vostra bontà, e perciò, spronata da occasioni acutissime che mettono da parte le belle maniere, vi chiamo all’uso delle vostre proprie virtù, per le quali continuerò a esservi grata.
GENTILUOMO	Qual è il vostro volere?
HELEN	Che vi piaccia dare questa povera petizione al Re, e aiutarmi con quella riserva di potere che avete a venire alla sua presenza.
GENTILUOMO	Il Re non è qui.
HELEN	Non è qui, signore?
GENTILUOMO	No, davvero. È partito di qui la notte passata, e con più fretta di quanto sia sua usanza.
VEDOVA	Signore, come perdiamo le nostre fatiche.
HELEN	Tutto è bene quel che finisce bene, ancora, anche se il tempo sembra tanto avverso, e i mezzi inadatti.— Vi supplico, dove è andato?
GENTILUOMO	Ma sì, a quel che intendo, a Rossiglione, dove io sto andando.
HELEN	Vi supplico, signore, poiché è probabile che vediate il Re prima di me, raccomandate la carta alla sua graziosa mano, il che presumo non vi recherà biasimo, ma piuttosto vi farà ringraziare la vostra fatica per essa. Vi seguirò con quella buona prestezza che i nostri mezzi ci daranno modo d’avere.
GENTILUOMO	(prendendo la carta) Questo lo farò per voi.
HELEN	E vi troverete bene ringraziato, qualunque altra cosa avvenga. Dobbiamo tornare a cavallo.— Su, su, provvedete.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lavatch and Paroles, with a letter
PAROLES	Good Master Lavatch, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes. But I am now, sir, muddied in Fortune’s mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.
LAVATCH	Truly, Fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of. I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune’s butt’ring. Prithee allow the wind.
PAROLES	Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir, I spake but by a metaphor. 11
LAVATCH	Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink I will stop my nose, or against any man’s metaphor. Prithee get thee further.
PAROLES	Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.
LAVATCH	Foh, prithee stand away. A paper from Fortune’s close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.
(didascalia)	Enter Lafeu
LAVATCH	Here is a pur of Fortune’s, sir, or of Fortune’s cat—but not a musk-cat—that has fallen into the unclean fish-pond of her displeasure and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Exit
PAROLES	My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched.
LAFEU	And what would you have me to do? ‘Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There’s a quart d’ecu for you. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am for other business.
PAROLES	I beseech your honour to hear me one single word—
LAFEU	You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall ha’t. Save your word.
PAROLES	My name, my good lord, is Paroles.
LAFEU	You beg more than one word then. Cox my passion! Give me your hand. How does your drum?
PAROLES	O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
LAFEU	Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee.
PAROLES	It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.
LAFEU	Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound
LAFEU	The King’s coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, enquire further after me. I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat. Go to, follow.
(didascalia)	PAROLES I praise God for you. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Lavatch e Paroles, con una lettera
PAROLES	Buon messer Lavatch, date al mio signore di Lafeu questa lettera. Un tempo, signore, v’ero meglio noto, quando avevo familiarità con abiti più freschi. Ma ora, signore, sono infangato nell’umore della Fortuna, e odoro un po’ forte del suo forte dispiacere.
LAVATCH	In verità, il dispiacere della Fortuna è ben sudicio, se odora così forte come dite. D’ora in poi non mangerò più pesce imburrato dalla Fortuna. Ti prego, lascia libero il vento.
PAROLES	Anzi, non avete bisogno di tapparvi il naso, signore, parlavo solo per metafora. 11
LAVATCH	In verità, signore, se la vostra metafora puzza mi tapperò il naso, come contro la metafora di qualunque uomo. Ti prego, allontanati di più.
PAROLES	Vi prego, signore, consegnate per me questa carta.
LAVATCH	Puah, ti prego, stammi lontano. Una carta dalla seggetta della Fortuna, da dare a un nobiluomo! Guarda, eccolo che viene lui stesso.
(didascalia)	Entra Lafeu
LAVATCH	Ecco qui uno sterco della Fortuna, signore, o del gatto della Fortuna—ma non un gatto di muschio—che è caduto nell’immondo vivaio del suo dispiacere e, come dice lui, ne è rimasto infangato. Vi prego, signore, usate la carpa come potete, perché ha l’aspetto d’un povero furfante decaduto, ingegnoso, sciocco e canagliesco. Compiango la sua sventura nelle mie similitudini di conforto, e lo lascio a vostra signoria. Esce
PAROLES	Mio signore, sono un uomo che la Fortuna ha crudelmente graffiato.
LAFEU	E che vorreste che io facessi? È troppo tardi ora per tagliarle le unghie. In che avete fatto il furfante con la Fortuna, perché ella vi graffiasse, lei che di per sé è una buona signora e non vorrebbe che i furfanti prosperassero a lungo sotto di lei? Ecco per voi un quarto d’écu. Che i giudici facciano amici voi e la Fortuna; io ho altri affari.
PAROLES	Supplico vostro onore d’ascoltarmi una sola parola—
LAFEU	Voi mendicate un solo penny di più. Su, l’avrete. Risparmiate la vostra parola.
PAROLES	Il mio nome, mio buon signore, è Paroles.
LAFEU	Allora mendicate più d’una parola. Corpo di bacco! Datemi la mano. Come sta il vostro tamburo?
PAROLES	Oh mio buon signore, voi foste il primo che mi scoprì.
LAFEU	Fui io, in verità? E io fui il primo che ti perdette.
PAROLES	Sta in voi, mio signore, ricondurmi in qualche grazia, perché voi mi portaste fuori.
LAFEU	Vergogna su te, furfante! Mi imponi in una volta sia l’ufficio di Dio sia quello del diavolo? Uno ti porta in grazia, e l’altro ti porta fuori.
(didascalia)	Suonano le trombe
LAFEU	Viene il Re; lo so dalle sue trombe. Messere, cercami più tardi. Ho parlato di te la notte passata. Sebbene tu sia uno sciocco e un furfante, mangerai. Andiamo, seguimi.
(didascalia)	PAROLES Lodo Dio per voi. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets. Enter the King, the old Countess, Lafeu, and attendants
KING	We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem Was made much poorer by it. But your son, As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know Her estimation home.
COUNTESS	‘Tis past, my liege, And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion done i’th’ blade of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force, O’erbears it and burns on.
KING	My honoured lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all, Though my revenges were high bent upon him 10 And watched 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 15 Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, Whose dear perfection hearts that scorned to serve Humbly called 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 Th‘incensing relics of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender; and inform him So ’tis our will he should.
ATTENDANT	I shall, my liege. Exit
KING	(to Lafeu) 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 sets him high in fame.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram with a patch of velvet on his left cheek, and kneels
LAFEU	He looks well on’t.
KING	(to Bertram) 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 Th’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 45 I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue; Where, the impression of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warped the line of every other favour, Stained a fair colour or expressed 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 55 The dust that did offend it.
KING	Well excused. That thou didst love her strikes some scores away From the great count. But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the grace-sender turns a sour offence, 60 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. 65 Our own love waking cries to see what’s done, While shameful hate 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.
(didascalia)	COUNTESS
KING	Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease.
LAFEU	(to Bertram) 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 Lafeu a ring By my old beard And ev’ry hair that’s on’t, Helen that’s dead Was a sweet creature. Such a ring as this, The last that ere I took her leave 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 fastened to’t. Lafeu gives him the ring 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 reckoned 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, Wrapped in a paper which contained the name Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought I stood ingaged. But when I had subscribed To mine own fortune, and informed 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 med‘cine, 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 called 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 mak’st 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. My fore-past proofs, howe’er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly feared 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
(didascalia)	Enter the Gentleman Austringer with a paper
KING	I am wrapped in dismal thinkings.
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, Vanquished 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. ‫‫‫‪‪‪‫‏‏‎‎
(didascalia)	KING (reads a letter) ’Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Roussillon 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.
GENTLEMAN	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 discov’ry.—Seek these suitors. Go speedily and bring again the Count.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
KING	I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatched.
(didascalia)	Enter Bertram guarded
COUNTESS	Now justice on the doers!
KING	(to Bertram) I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.
(didascalia)	Enter the Widow and Diana
KING	What woman’s that?
DIANA	I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet. My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
WIDOW	(to the King) 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	(to the King) 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	(to Bertram) Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her.
BERTRAM	(to the King) My lord, this is a fond and desp’rate creature Whom sometime I have laughed 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 sayst thou to her?
BERTRAM	She’s impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp.
DIANA	(to the King) 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’th’ camp, If I be one.
COUNTESS	He blushes and ’tis hit. Of six preceding ancestors, that gem; Conferred by testament to th’ sequent issue Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife. That ring’s a thousand proofs.
KING	(to Diana) 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 Paroles.
LAFEU	I saw the man today, if man he be.
KING	Find him and bring him hither. Exit one
BERTRAM	What of him? He’s quoted for a most perfidious slave With all the spots o’th’ world taxed and debauched, Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he’ll utter, That will speak anything?
KING	She hath that ring of yours.
BERTRAM	I think she has. Certain it is I liked her And boarded her i‘th’ 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 inf’nite cunning with her modern grace Subdued me to her rate. She got the ring, And I had that which my inferior might At market price have bought.
DIANA	I must be patient. You that have turned 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	(to Diana) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Paroles
BERTRAM	(to the King) My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
KING	You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you.— Is this the man you speak of?
DIANA	Ay, my lord.
KING	(to Paroles) 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?
PAROLES	So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman. Tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.
KING	Come, come, to th’ purpose. Did he love this woman?
PAROLES	Faith, sir, he did love her, but how?
KING	How, I pray you?
PAROLES	He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.
KING	How is that?
PAROLES	He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
KING	As thou art a knave and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this!
PAROLES	I am a poor man, and at your majesty’s command.
LAFEU	(to the King) He’s a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
DIANA	(to Paroles) Do you know he promised me marriage?
PAROLES	Faith, I know more than I’ll speak.
KING	But wilt thou not speak all thou know’st?
PAROLES	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	(to the King) This woman’s an easy glove, my lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.
KING	(to Diana) This ring was mine. I gave it his first wife.
DIANA	It might be yours or hers for aught I know.
KING	(to attendants) 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	(to attendants) 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	(to attendants) She does abuse our ears. To prison with her.
DIANA	Good mother, fetch my bail.
(didascalia)	Exit Widow
DIANA	Stay, royal sir. 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 harmed 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Helen and the Widow
KING	Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is’t real that I see?
HELEN	No, my good lord, ’Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing.
BERTRAM	Both, both. O, pardon!
HELEN	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,’ et cetera. This is done. Will you be mine now you are doubly won?
BERTRAM	(to the King) If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly I’ll love her dearly, ever ever dearly.
HELEN	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 Paroles) Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkerchief. So, I thank thee. Wait on me home, I’ll make sport with thee. Let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones.
KING	(to Helen) 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 uncroppèd flower, Choose thou thy husband and I’ll pay thy dower. For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou kept’st a wife herself, thyself a maid. Of that and all the progress more and less Resolvèdly more leisure shall express. All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets
KING	Epilogue The King’s a beggar now the play is done. All is well ended if this suit be won: That you express content, which we will pay With strife to please you, day exceeding day. Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts: Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND	GEORGE WILKINS A RECONSTRUCTED TEXT
ON	20 May 1608 Pericles was entered on the Stationers’ Register to Edward Blount; but he did not publish it. Probably the players allowed him to license it in the hope of preventing its publication by anyone else, for it was one of the most popular plays of the period. Its success was exploited, also in 1608, by the publication of a novel, by George Wilkins, ‘The Painful Adventures of Pericles Prince of Tyre, Being the True History of the Play of Pericles, as it was lately presented by the worthy and ancient poet John Gower’. The play itself appeared in print in the following year, with an ascription to Shakespeare, but in a manifestly corrupt text that gives every sign of having been put together from memory. This quarto was several times reprinted, but the play was not included in the 1623 Folio (perhaps because Heminges and Condell knew that Shakespeare was responsible for only part of it). In putting together The Painful Adventures, Wilkins drew on an earlier version of the tale, The Pattern of Painful Adventures, by Laurence Twine, written in the mid-1570s and reprinted in 1607. Twine’s book is also a source of the play, which draws too on the story of Apollonius of Tyre as told by John Gower in his Confessio Amantis, and, to a lesser extent, on Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia. Wilkins not only incorporated verbatim passages from Twine’s book, he also drew heavily on Pericles itself. Since the play text is so corrupt, it is quite likely that Wilkins reports parts of it both more accurately and more fully than the quarto. And he may have had special qualifications for doing so. He was a dramatist whose popular play The Miseries of Enforced Marriage had been performed by Shakespeare’s company. Pericles has usually been regarded as either a collaborative play or one in which Shakespeare revised a pre-existing script. Our edition is based on the hypothesis (not new) that Wilkins was its joint author. Our attempt to reconstruct the play draws more heavily than is usual on Wilkins’s novel, especially in the first nine scenes (which he probably wrote); in general, because of its obvious corruption, the original text is more freely emended than usual. So that readers may experience the play as originally printed, an unemended reprint of the 1609 quarto is given in our original-spelling edition. The deficiencies of the text are in part compensated for by the survival of an unusual amount of relevant visual material, reproduced overleaf. The complex textual background of Pericles should not be allowed to draw attention away from the merits of this dramatic romance, which we hope will be more apparent as the result of our treatment of the text. If the original play had survived, it might well have been as highly valued as The Winter’s Tale or The Tempest; as it is, it contains some hauntingly beautiful episodes, above all that in Scene 21 in which Marina, Pericles’ long-lost daughter, draws him out of the comatose state to which his sufferings have reduced him. 14. From the title-page of The Painful Adventures of Pericles Prince of Tyre (1608), by George Wilkins; artist unknown. Since Gower is not a character in Wilkins’s novel, the choice of woodcut undoubtedly reflects both the play’s popularity and Gower’s own impact in early performances, and it is as likely to reflect the visual detail of performance as any early title-page. The sprig of laurel (or posy) in Gower’s left hand is symbolic of his poetic status. 15. From Greene’s Vision (1592), sig. CIr―CIv; probably by Robert Greene. The description here fits reasonably well the Painful Adventures title-page, though the woodcut does not contain the ‘bag of red’, ‘napkin’, or tight-fitting ‘breech’. 16. Severed heads displayed on the gate of London Bridge, from an etching by Claes Jan Visscher (1616). In the play’s sources, and Painful Adventures, the heads of previous suitors (Sc. 1) are placed on the ’gate’ of Antioch. In performance they could have been thrust out on poles from the upper stage; but the timing and method of their display is not clear. 17. From The Heroical Devices of M. Claudius Paradin, translated by P.S. (1591), sig. V3. This is the source for the impresa of the Third Knight, in Sc. 6. 18. From The Heroical Devices of M. Claudius Paradin, translated by P.S. (1591), sig. Z3. This is the source for the impresa of the Fourth Knight, in Sc. 6. 19. An Inigo Jones sketch of Diana, probably for Ben Jonson’s masque Time Vindicated (1623). The goddess of chastity appeared as a character in court entertainments, masques, and plays, and her representation was governed by iconographic convention. As goddess of hunting, she was most often identified by her ‘silver bow’ (21.234). In Thomas Heywood’s The Golden Age (1611), stage directions refer to ‘Diana’s bow’ (sig. EIv) and her ‘buskins’ (sig. E3v); her ‘nymphs’ explicitly, and by inference she, have ‘garlands on their heads, and javelins in their hands … bows and quivers’ (sig. D3v). The bow, quiver, and javelin, all visible in Jones’s sketch, were commonplace in emblematic representations. As a huntress, Diana could naturally be envisaged in a chariot: in Aurelian Townshend’s masque Albion’s Triumph (1631), she descends ‘in her chariot’ (pp. 2, 12); in Time Vindicated, ‘Diana descends’ (1. 446). Such descents for deities were used in the public theatres, too, usually in a chair or chariot (21.224.2). 20. A miniature of Diana by Isaac Oliver (1615): the dress is yellow, the scarf a gauzy pink-white, the cloak over her right shoulder blue; the leaf-shaped brooch topped by the crescent moon, gold. In Samuel Daniel’s masque The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses (1604), ‘Diana, in a green mantle embroidered with silver half moons, and a crescent of pearl on her head, presents a bow and quiver’ (sig. A5). The ‘crescent of pearl’—an ornamental crescent moon, also detectable in Jones’s sketch—can be seen in many emblematic representations of the goddess. 21. For the pastoral Florimène (1635), Inigo Jones designed two scenic views of ’The Temple of Diana’ (see 1. 22.17.1). Though such scenes were not used in the public theatres in Shakespeare’s time, the columns supporting the overhanging roof of the public stage (see General Introduction, pp. xxvii-xxix) could have created a scenic effect roughly similar to Jones’s recessed classical temple. Statues were also available as props in the public theatre; in Pericles, as in The Winter’s Tale, the statue could have been impersonated by an actor on a pedestal. Whether or not a statue was visible, the temple could be identified by an altar (as in The Two Noble Kinsmen).
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY John GOWER, the Presenter ANTIOCHUS, King of Antioch His DAUGHTER THALIART, a villain PERICLES, Prince of Tyre MARINA, Pericles’ daughter CLEON, Governor of Tarsus DIONIZA, his wife LEONINE, a murderer
KING	SIMONIDES, of Pentapolis THAISA, his daughter Three FISHERMEN, his subjects Five PRINCES, suitors of Thaisa A MARSHAL LYCHORIDA, Thaisa’s nurse CERIMON, a physician of Ephesus PHILEMON, his servant LYSIMACHUS, Governor of Mytilene A BAWD A PANDER BOULT, a leno DIANA, goddess of chastity Lords, ladies, pages, messengers, sailors, gentlemen

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano il Re, la vecchia Contessa, Lafeu e gli attendenti
RE	Perdemmo in lei un gioiello, e la nostra stima ne fu resa molto più povera. Ma vostro figlio, pazzo nella follia, mancò del senno di conoscere il suo pregio fino in fondo.
COUNTESS	È passato, mio sovrano, e supplico vostra maestà di tenerlo per naturale ribellione compiuta nel germoglio della gioventù, quando l’olio e il fuoco, troppo forti per la forza della ragione, la sopraffanno e continuano a bruciare.
RE	Mia onorata signora, ho perdonato e dimenticato tutto, sebbene le mie vendette fossero tese in alto contro di lui 10 e spiassero il tempo di scagliarsi.
LAFEU	Questo devo dire— ma prima chiedo il mio perdono—il giovane signore fece a sua maestà, a sua madre e alla sua signora offesa di gran rilievo, ma a sé stesso il torto più grande di tutti. Perdette una moglie 15 la cui bellezza stupiva lo sguardo degli occhi più ricchi, le cui parole facevano prigioniero ogni orecchio, la cui cara perfezione cuori che disdegnavano di servire umilmente chiamavano padrona.
RE	Lodare ciò che è perduto rende caro il ricordo. Bene, chiamatelo qua. Siamo riconciliati, e la prima vista ucciderà ogni ripetizione. Non ci chieda perdono. La natura della sua grande offesa è morta, e più profonde dell’oblio noi seppelliamo le sue reliquie che accendono l’ira. Che s’accosti come estraneo, non come offensore; e informatelo che tale è la nostra volontà.
ATTENDENTE	Così farò, mio sovrano. Esce
RE	(a Lafeu) Che dice di vostra figlia? Avete parlato?
LAFEU	Tutto ciò che egli è si rimette a vostra altezza.
RE	Allora avremo un matrimonio. Mi son state mandate lettere che lo pongono alto in fama.
(didascalia)	Entra Bertram con una toppa di velluto sulla guancia sinistra, e s’inginocchia
LAFEU	Gli sta bene.
RE	(a Bertram) Non sono un giorno di stagione, perché puoi vedere in me un sole e una grandine in una volta. Ma ai raggi più splendenti le nubi dissipate cedono; dunque fatti avanti. Il tempo è di nuovo sereno.
BERTRAM	Le mie colpe altamente pentite, caro sovrano, perdonatemi.
RE	Tutto è sanato. Non una parola di più del tempo consumato. Prendiamo l’istante per il ciuffo davanti, perché siamo vecchi, e sui nostri più rapidi decreti il piede inudibile e senza rumore del tempo s’insinua prima che possiamo eseguirli. Ricordate la figlia di questo signore?
BERTRAM	Con ammirazione, mio sovrano. Da principio 45 fissai la mia scelta su lei, prima che il mio cuore osasse fare della mia lingua un araldo troppo ardito; e là, fissando l’impressione del mio occhio, il Disprezzo mi prestò la sua prospettiva sdegnosa, che storse la linea d’ogni altro volto, macchiò un bel colore o lo dichiarò rubato, dilatò o contrasse tutte le proporzioni in un oggetto orrendissimo. Da ciò venne che colei che tutti lodavano e che io stesso, da quando l’ho perduta, ho amato, era al mio occhio 55 la polvere che l’offendeva.
RE	Bene scusato. Che tu l’abbia amata cancella qualche partita dal gran conto. Ma l’amore che viene troppo tardi, come un perdono pieno di rimorso portato lentamente, si volge, per chi manda la grazia, in offesa amara, 60 gridando: «Buono è ciò che è perduto.» Le nostre colpe temerarie fanno vil prezzo delle cose serie che abbiamo, non conoscendole finché non conosciamo il loro sepolcro. Spesso i nostri dispiaceri, ingiusti verso noi stessi, distruggono i nostri amici, e poi ne piangiamo la polvere. 65 Il nostro proprio amore, destandosi, grida a vedere ciò che è fatto, mentre l’odio vergognoso dorme via il pomeriggio. Sia questa la campana a morto della dolce Elena; e ora dimenticala. Manda il tuo pegno amoroso per la bella Maudlin. I consensi principali sono ottenuti, e qui resteremo per vedere il secondo giorno di nozze del nostro vedovo.
(didascalia)	COUNTESS
RE	E che sia migliore del primo, oh caro cielo, benedicilo! O prima che s’incontrino, in me, oh natura, cessa.
LAFEU	(a Bertram) Venite, figlio mio, in cui il nome della mia casa dev’essere assorbito, date un pegno da parte vostra che scintilli negli spiriti di mia figlia, perché ella venga presto. Bertram dà a Lafeu un anello Per la mia vecchia barba e per ogni pelo che v’è sopra, Elena che è morta era una dolce creatura. Un anello come questo, l’ultima volta che presi congedo da lei a corte, vidi al suo dito.
BERTRAM	Suo non era.
RE	Ora, vi prego, lasciatemelo vedere; perché il mio occhio, mentre parlavo, spesso vi si fissava. Lafeu gli dà l’anello Quest’anello era mio, e quando lo diedi a Elena le dissi che, se la sua fortuna si fosse mai trovata nel bisogno d’aiuto, con questo pegno io l’avrei soccorsa. Avesti tu l’astuzia di privarla di ciò che più doveva giovarle?
BERTRAM	Mio grazioso sovrano, comunque vi piaccia intenderla così, l’anello non fu mai suo.
COUNTESS	Figlio, sulla mia vita l’ho vista portarlo, e lo stimava al prezzo della sua vita.
LAFEU	Sono certo d’averla vista portarlo.
BERTRAM	V’ingannate, mio signore, ella non lo vide mai. In Firenze mi fu gettato da una finestra, avvolto in una carta che conteneva il nome di colei che lo gettò. Nobile era, e credeva ch’io fossi impegnato. Ma quando avevo dichiarato la mia propria condizione, e l’avevo pienamente informata che non potevo rispondere in quel corso d’onore in cui ella aveva fatto l’apertura, ella si fermò in grave rassegnazione, e non volle mai riprendere l’anello.
RE	Pluto stesso, che conosce la tintura e la medicina moltiplicante, non ha nel mistero della natura più scienza di quanta io ne abbia in quest’anello. Era mio, era d’Elena, chiunque ve l’abbia dato. Dunque, se sapete d’essere bene al corrente di voi stesso, confessate che era suo, e per quale rude costrizione lo avete ottenuto da lei. Chiamò i santi a garanti che non l’avrebbe mai tolto dal proprio dito se non per darlo a voi stesso nel letto, dove non siete mai venuto, o per mandarlo a noi nel suo gran disastro.
BERTRAM	Ella non lo vide mai.
RE	Lo dici falsamente, com’è vero che amo il mio onore, e fai entrare in me timori congetturali che volentieri escluderei. Se dovesse risultare che tu sei così inumano—non risulterà così. E tuttavia non so. Tu l’odiavi a morte, ed ella è morta; cosa che nulla, se non chiuderle io stesso gli occhi, potrebbe indurmi a credere, più che il vedere quest’anello.—Portatelo via. Le mie prove passate, comunque cada la faccenda, accuseranno i miei timori di poca vanità, avendo io vanamente temuto troppo poco. Via con lui. Vaglieremo più a fondo questa materia.
BERTRAM	Se proverete che quest’anello fu mai suo, proverete con la stessa facilità ch’io fui marito nel suo letto in Firenze, dove pure ella non fu mai. Esce sotto scorta
(didascalia)	Entra il Gentiluomo Falconiere con una carta
RE	Sono avvolto in tetri pensieri.
GENTILUOMO	Grazioso sovrano, se io sia stato da biasimare o no, non lo so. Ecco una petizione d’una Fiorentina che per quattro o cinque tappe è arrivata troppo tardi per presentarla ella stessa. Me ne son fatto carico, vinto a ciò dalla bella grazia e dal parlare della povera supplicante, la quale ormai so che è qui in attesa. Il suo affare le si legge in volto con aria d’importanza, e mi disse in un dolce sommario a voce che riguardava vostra altezza insieme con lei stessa.
(didascalia)	RE (legge una lettera) «Sulle sue molte proteste di sposarmi quando sua moglie fosse morta, arrossisco a dirlo, mi conquistò. Ora il conte di Rossiglione è vedovo, i suoi voti mi sono dovuti, e il mio onore gli è pagato. Fuggì da Firenze senza prender congedo, e io lo seguo nel suo paese per giustizia. Concedetemela, oh Re! In voi meglio riposa; altrimenti un seduttore prospera e una povera fanciulla è perduta.
GENTILUOMO	Diana Capilet.»
LAFEU	Mi comprerò un genero a una fiera, e pagherò il dazio per questo. Di lui non ne voglio.
RE	I cieli han pensato bene a te, Lafeu, facendo venire alla luce questa scoperta.—Cercate queste ricorrenti. Andate in fretta e riportate qua il Conte.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
RE	Temo che la vita d’Elena, signora, sia stata turpemente strappata.
(didascalia)	Entra Bertram sotto scorta
COUNTESS	Ora giustizia su chi l’ha fatto!
RE	(a Bertram) Mi meraviglio, signore, che, essendo le mogli mostri per voi, e fuggendole nel momento stesso in cui giurate loro signoria, pure desideriate sposarvi.
(didascalia)	Entrano la Vedova e Diana
RE	Chi è quella donna?
DIANA	Sono, mio signore, una misera Fiorentina, discesa dall’antico Capilet. La mia domanda, a quanto intendo, voi la conoscete, e perciò sapete fin dove posso esser compatita.
VEDOVA	(al Re) Sono sua madre, signore, e la mia età e il mio onore soffrono entrambi sotto questa lagnanza che portiamo, ed entrambi cesseranno senza il vostro rimedio.
RE	Venite qua, Conte. Conoscete queste donne?
BERTRAM	Mio signore, non posso né voglio negare di conoscerle. Mi accusano d’altro?
DIANA	Perché guardate con tanta estraneità vostra moglie?
BERTRAM	(al Re) Non è mia, mio signore.
DIANA	Se vi sposate date via questa mano, e quella è mia; date via i voti del cielo, e quelli sono miei; date via me stessa, che è cosa nota esser mia, perché per voto sono così incorporata in voi che colei che sposa voi deve sposare me, o entrambe o nessuna.
LAFEU	(a Bertram) La vostra reputazione è troppo corta per mia figlia, non siete marito per lei.
BERTRAM	(al Re) Mio signore, questa è una creatura sciocca e disperata con cui qualche volta ho riso. Che vostra altezza ponga un pensiero più nobile sul mio onore che credere ch’io lo affonderei qui.
RE	Signore, quanto ai miei pensieri, li avete mal amici finché le vostre azioni non li conquistino. Si mostri il vostro onore più bello di quanto stia nel mio pensiero.
DIANA	Mio buon signore, chiedetegli sotto giuramento se crede di non aver avuto la mia verginità.
RE	Che dici a lei?
BERTRAM	È impudente, mio signore, ed era una comune sgualdrina del campo.
DIANA	(al Re) Mi fa torto, mio signore. Se fossi tale avrebbe potuto comprarmi a prezzo comune. Non credetegli. Oh, guardate quest’anello, il cui alto pregio e ricco valore non avevano pari; e pure, con tutto ciò, lo diede a una sgualdrina del campo, se io sono tale.
COUNTESS	Arrossisce, e il colpo è giusto. Di sei antenati precedenti, quella gemma; trasmessa per testamento alla discendenza seguente fu posseduta e portata. Questa è sua moglie. Quell’anello è mille prove.
RE	(a Diana) Mi parve che dicessi d’aver visto uno qui a corte che potesse testimoniarlo.
DIANA	Sì, mio signore, ma m’è odioso produrre uno strumento così cattivo. Si chiama Paroles.
LAFEU	Ho visto l’uomo oggi, se uomo è.
RE	Trovatelo e portatelo qua. Esce uno
BERTRAM	Che c’entra lui? È additato come uno schiavo perfidissimo, accusato e corrotto d’ogni macchia del mondo, la cui natura si sente male solo a dire una verità. Sono io questo o quello per ciò che egli dirà, lui che dirà qualunque cosa?
RE	Ella ha quell’anello vostro.
BERTRAM	Credo che l’abbia. Certo è che mi piacque e l’abbordai alla maniera lasciva della gioventù. Ella conosceva la sua distanza e pescava per me, rendendo pazza la mia avidità col suo ritegno, come tutti gli impedimenti nel corso del capriccio sono motivi di maggior capriccio; e in fine la sua infinita astuzia con la sua grazia da poco mi soggiogò al suo prezzo. Ottenne l’anello, e io ebbi ciò che un mio inferiore avrebbe potuto comprare a prezzo di mercato.
DIANA	Devo esser paziente. Voi che avete congedato una prima moglie così nobile potete giustamente tenermi a stecchetto. Pure vi prego— poiché a voi manca la virtù, io perderò un marito— mandate a prendere il vostro anello, lo restituirò a casa, e ridatemi il mio.
BERTRAM	Non l’ho.
RE	(a Diana) Quale anello era il tuo, ti prego?
DIANA	Signore, molto simile a quello che avete al dito.
RE	Conosci quest’anello? Quest’anello era suo poco fa.
DIANA	E questo è quello che gli diedi essendo a letto.
RE	Va dunque falsa la storia che tu gliel’avessi gettato da una finestra?
DIANA	Ho detto la verità.
(didascalia)	Entra Paroles
BERTRAM	(al Re) Mio signore, confesso che l’anello era suo.
RE	Trasalisci malamente; ogni piuma ti fa sobbalzare.— È questo l’uomo di cui parli?
DIANA	Sì, mio signore.
RE	(a Paroles) Dimmi, messere—ma dimmi il vero, t’ingiungo, senza temere il dispiacere del tuo padrone, che, se procedi rettamente, terrò lontano— di lui e di questa donna qui che cosa sai?
PAROLES	Piaccia a vostra maestà, il mio padrone è stato un gentiluomo onorevole. Ha avuto in sé quei trucchi che i gentiluomini hanno.
RE	Su, su, al punto. Amò questa donna?
PAROLES	In fede, signore, l’amò, ma come?
RE	Come, ti prego?
PAROLES	L’amò, signore, come un gentiluomo ama una donna.
RE	E come è questo?
PAROLES	L’amò, signore, e non l’amò.
RE	Come tu sei un furfante e non un furfante. Che compagno equivoco è questo!
PAROLES	Sono un pover’uomo, e al comando di vostra maestà.
LAFEU	(al Re) È un buon tamburo, mio signore, ma un cattivo oratore.
DIANA	(a Paroles) Sai che mi promise il matrimonio?
PAROLES	In fede, so più di quanto dirò.
RE	Ma non vuoi dire tutto ciò che sai?
PAROLES	Sì, se piaccia a vostra maestà. Facevo da tramite fra loro, come ho detto; ma più di questo, egli l’amava, perché in verità era pazzo per lei e parlava di Satana e del limbo e delle Furie e non so che. Pure ero in tal credito presso di loro in quel tempo che sapevo del loro andare a letto e d’altri movimenti, come del promettere a lei il matrimonio e cose che mi tirerebbero addosso malanimo a dirle. Perciò non dirò ciò che so.
RE	Hai già detto tutto, a meno che non possa dire che sono sposati. Ma sei troppo sottile nella tua testimonianza, perciò fatti da parte.— Quest’anello, dici, era tuo.
DIANA	Sì, mio buon signore.
RE	Dove l’hai comprato? O chi te l’ha dato?
DIANA	Non mi fu dato, né io lo comprai.
RE	Chi te l’ha prestato?
DIANA	Né mi fu prestato.
RE	Dove l’hai trovato allora?
DIANA	Non l’ho trovato.
RE	Se non era tuo per nessuna di tutte queste vie, come potevi darlo a lui?
DIANA	Non gliel’ho mai dato.
LAFEU	(al Re) Questa donna è un guanto comodo, mio signore: si sfila e s’infila a piacere.
RE	(a Diana) Quest’anello era mio. Lo diedi alla sua prima moglie.
DIANA	Potrebbe essere vostro o suo, per quel che ne so.
RE	(agli attendenti) Portatela via, ora non mi piace. In prigione con lei. E via con lui.— Se non mi dici dove hai avuto quest’anello morirai entro quest’ora.
DIANA	Non ve lo dirò mai.
RE	(agli attendenti) Portatela via.
DIANA	Fornirò una cauzione, mio sovrano.
RE	Ti credo ora una comune sgualdrina.
DIANA	Per Giove, se mai conobbi uomo, foste voi.
RE	Perché dunque l’hai accusato per tutto questo tempo?
DIANA	Perché è colpevole, e non è colpevole. Sa che non sono vergine, e lo giurerà; io giurerò che sono vergine, e lui non lo sa. Grande Re, non sono una sgualdrina; sulla mia vita, sono o vergine o moglie di questo vecchio.
RE	(agli attendenti) Ella abusa dei nostri orecchi. In prigione con lei.
DIANA	Buona madre, andate a prendere la mia cauzione.
(didascalia)	Esce la Vedova
DIANA	Restate, regale signore. Il gioielliere che possiede l’anello è stato mandato a chiamare, ed egli sarà mia garanzia. Ma quanto a questo signore, che m’ha oltraggiata come egli stesso sa, pur non avendomi mai fatto danno, qui io l’assolvo. Sa lui stesso d’aver contaminato il mio letto, e in quel tempo mise incinta d’un figlio sua moglie. Morta com’ella è, sente il suo piccolo scalciare. Ecco dunque il mio enigma: una che è morta è viva. E ora guardate il significato.
(didascalia)	Entrano Elena e la Vedova
RE	Non c’è qualche esorcista che inganni il più vero ufficio dei miei occhi? È reale ciò che vedo?
HELEN	No, mio buon signore, è solo l’ombra d’una moglie quella che vedete, il nome e non la cosa.
BERTRAM	Entrambi, entrambi. Oh, perdono!
HELEN	Oh, mio buon signore, quando ero come questa fanciulla vi trovai straordinariamente gentile. Ecco il vostro anello. E, guardate, ecco la vostra lettera. Questo dice: «Quando dal mio dito potrai avere quest’anello, e sarai da me con un figlio», eccetera. Questo è compiuto. Volete essere mio, ora che siete doppiamente conquistato?
BERTRAM	(al Re) Se ella, mio sovrano, può farmi conoscere chiaramente questo, l’amerò caramente, sempre sempre caramente.
HELEN	Se non apparirà chiaro e si mostrerà non vero, mortale divorzio si ponga fra me e voi.— Oh mia cara madre, vi vedo viva?
LAFEU	I miei occhi odorano cipolle, piangerò fra poco. (A Paroles) Buon Tom Tamburo, prestami un fazzoletto. Così, ti ringrazio. Accompagnami a casa, mi divertirò con te. Lascia stare i tuoi inchini, sono meschini.
RE	(a Elena) Conosciamo punto per punto questa storia, per far scorrere in piacere la piana verità. (A Diana) Se sei ancora un fresco fiore non colto, scegli tu il tuo marito e io pagherò la tua dote. Perché posso indovinare che col tuo onesto aiuto conservasti a una moglie sé stessa, e a te stessa la verginità. Di ciò e di tutto lo svolgimento, più e meno, un maggior agio dirà risolutamente. Tutto pare per ora bene; e se finisce così a proposito, passato l’amaro, più gradito è il dolce.
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe
RE	Epilogo Il Re è un mendicante, ora che la commedia è finita. Tutto è finito bene se questa causa è vinta: che voi manifestiate contento, il quale ripagheremo con lo sforzo di piacervi, giorno superando giorno. Sia nostra allora la vostra pazienza, e vostre le nostre parti: prestateci le vostre gentili mani, e prendete i nostri cuori.
(didascalia)	Escono