Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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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.

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

4.4 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.

Exeunt

4.5 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.

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.

Exeunt

5.1 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.

Enter a Gentleman Austringer

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.

Exeunt severally

5.2 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.

Enter Lafeu

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.

Trumpets sound

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.

PAROLES I praise God for you. ⌈Exeunt⌉

5.3 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.

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.

⌈COUNTESS⌉

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

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. ‫‫‫‪‪‪‫‏‏‎‎

⌈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.

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.

Exit one or more

I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,

Was foully snatched.

⌈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.

Enter the Widow and Diana

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.

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.

Exit Widow

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.

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.

Flourish of trumpets

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.

Exeunt