Alls Wel that ends Well

SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarity

redeems him.

BERTRAM. A pox on him! he's a cat still.

FIRST SOLDIER. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not

to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

PAROLLES. Sir, for a cardecue 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.

FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?

FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me?

FIRST SOLDIER. What's he?

PAROLLES. 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.

FIRST SOLDIER. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray

the Florentine?

PAROLLES. Ay, and the Captain of his Horse, Count Rousillon.

FIRST SOLDIER. I'll whisper with the General, and know his

pleasure.

PAROLLES. [Aside] I'll no more drumming. A plague of all 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?

FIRST SOLDIER. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die.

The General says you that have so traitorously discover'd 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, of with his head.

PAROLLES. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!

FIRST SOLDIER. That shall you, and take your leave of all your

friends. [Unmuffling him] So look about you; know you any here?

BERTRAM. Good morrow, noble Captain.

FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles.

SECOND LORD. God save you, noble Captain.

FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am

for France.

SECOND LORD. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet

you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? An I were not

a very coward I'd compel it of you; but fare you well.

Exeunt BERTRAM and LORDS

FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; that

has a knot on 't yet.

PAROLLES. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?

FIRST SOLDIER. 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 with SOLDIERS

PAROLLES. 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, Parolles, live

Safest in shame. Being fool'd, by fool'ry thrive.

There's place and means for every man alive.

I'll after them. Exit

SCENE 4.

The WIDOW'S house

Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA

HELENA. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd 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 inform'd

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. 

HELENA. 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 cozen'd 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.

HELENA. Yet, I pray you:

But with the 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 waggon is prepar'd, 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. Exeunt

SCENE 5.

Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace

Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN

LAFEU. No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow

there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'd

and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law

had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more