Alls Wel that ends Well

KING. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me

That sets him high in fame. 

Enter BERTRAM

LAFEU. He looks well on 't.

KING. 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

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 

Durst make too bold herald of my tongue;

Where the impression of mine eye infixing,

Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,

Which warp'd the line of every other favour,

Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stol'n,

Extended or contracted all proportions

To a most hideous object. Thence it came

That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,

Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye

The dust that did offend it.

KING. Well excus'd.

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away

From the great compt; but love that comes too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the great sender turns a sour offence,

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; 

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.

COUNTESS. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!

LAFEU. 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 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 e'er 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 fasten'd to't.

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 reckon'd it

At her life's rate.

LAFEU. I am sure I saw her wear it.

BERTRAM. You are deceiv'd, my lord; she never saw it.

In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,

Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name

Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought

I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd

To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully

I could not answer in that course of honour 

As she had made the overture, she ceas'd,

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 call'd 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.

[GUARDS seize BERTRAM]

My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,

Shall tax my fears of little vanity,

Having vainly fear'd 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 she yet never was. Exit, guarded

KING. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.

Enter a GENTLEMAN

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,

Vanquish'd 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.

KING. [Reads the letter] 'Upon his many protestations to marry me