Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,

Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all

the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have

been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they

are presented herein:

Barnardo. Who's there?

Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold

your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

* * * * *

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words

or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the

original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling

to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions

that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,

above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming

Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a

time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in

place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day,

as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend

more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I

have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an

extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a

very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an

assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University

in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the

purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available

. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,

that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a

variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous

for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below

made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors

that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,

here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's play.

Michael S. Hart

Project Gutenberg

Executive Director

* * * * *

Scanner's Notes:

What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of

Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in

ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the

conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling,

punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed

text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put

together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of

the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified

spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded

abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within

brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you

can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer

Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are

textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So

there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above)

between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the

printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of

copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type

and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown

away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the

way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30

different First Folio editions' best pages.

David Reed

=====================================================================

All's Well, that Ends Well

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,

Lord

Lafew, all in blacke.

Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second

husband

Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my

fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties

command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore

in subiection

Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame,

you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good,

must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse

would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack

it where there is such abundance

Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?

Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder

whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope,

and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely

the loosing of hope by time

Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that

had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as

great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue

made nature immortall, and death should haue play for

lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing,

I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease

Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?

Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was

his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon

Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very

latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee

was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could

be set vp against mortallitie

Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes

of?

Laf. A Fistula my Lord

Ros. I heard not of it before

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman

the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my

ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her

education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which

makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries

vertuous qualities, there commendations go with

pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are

the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie,

and atcheeues her goodnesse

Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her

teares

Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise

in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her

heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood

from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no

more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then

to haue-

Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,

excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing

Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse

makes it soone mortall

Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes

Laf. How vnderstand we that?

Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father

In manners as in shape: thy blood and vertue

Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesse

Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,

Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie

Rather in power then vse: and keepe thy friend

Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,

But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,

That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,

Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,

'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord

Aduise him

Laf. He cannot want the best

That shall attend his loue

Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram

Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts

be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your

Mistris, and make much of her

Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit

of your father

Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,

And these great teares grace his remembrance more

Then those I shed for him. What was he like?

I haue forgott him. My imagination

Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.

I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,

If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,

That I should loue a bright particuler starre,

And think to wed it, he is so aboue me

In his bright radience and colaterall light,

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;

Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:

The hind that would be mated by the Lion

Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague

To see him euerie houre to sit and draw

His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles

In our hearts table: heart too capeable

Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.

But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie

Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?

Enter Parrolles.

One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,

And yet I know him a notorious Liar,

Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,

Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,

That they take place, when Vertues steely bones

Lookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we see

Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie

Par. Saue you faire Queene

Hel. And you Monarch

Par. No

Hel. And no

Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?

Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Let

mee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,

how may we barracado it against him?

Par. Keepe him out

Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant,

in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like

resistance

Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you,

will vndermine you, and blow you vp

Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers

and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins

might blow vp men?

Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will

quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe

againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your

Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of

Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is

rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till

virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall

to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost,

may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer

lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die

a Virgin

Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the

rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is

to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience.

He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie

murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes

out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against

Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a

Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so

dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie

is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which

is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not,

you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within

ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase,

and the principall it selfe not much the worse.

Away with't

Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne

liking?

Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're

it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying:

The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis

vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like

an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly

suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick,

which were not now: your Date is better in your

Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your

virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French

wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a

wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a

wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet:

There shall your Master haue a thousand loues,

A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend,

A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,

A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,

A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare:

His humble ambition, proud humility:

His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet:

His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world

Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes

That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:

I know not what he shall, God send him well,

The Courts a learning place, and he is one

Par. What one ifaith?

Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty

Par. What's pitty?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,

Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,

Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,

Might with effects of them follow our friends,

And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuer

Returnes vs thankes.

Enter Page.

Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,

My Lord cals for you

Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I

will thinke of thee at Court

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a

charitable starre

Par. Vnder Mars I

Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars

Par. Why vnder Mars?

Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you

must needes be borne vnder Mars

Par. When he was predominant

Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather

Par. Why thinke you so?

Hel. You go so much backward when you fight

Par. That's for aduantage

Hel. So is running away,

When feare proposes the safetie:

But the composition that your valour and feare makes

in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the

weare well

Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere

thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the

which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so

thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand

what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou

diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes

thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy

praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends:

Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee:

So farewell

Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,

Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skye

Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull

Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull.

What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,

That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?

The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings

To ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.

Impossible be strange attempts to those

That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose

What hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroue

To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?

(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,

But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.

Exit

Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers

Attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,

Haue fought with equall fortune, and continue

A brauing warre

1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir

King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,

A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,

With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs

For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend

Preiudicates the businesse, and would seeme

To haue vs make deniall

1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome

Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade

For amplest credence

King. He hath arm'd our answer,

And Florence is deni'de before he comes:

Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see

The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue

To stand on either part

2.Lo.E. It well may serue

A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke

For breathing, and exploit

King. What's he comes heere.

Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.

1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,

Yong Bertram

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,

Franke Nature rather curious then in hast

Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts

Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris

Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties

Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,

As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendship

First tride our souldiership: he did looke farre

Into the seruice of the time, and was

Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long,

But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,

And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me

To talke of your good father; in his youth

He had the wit, which I can well obserue

To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest

Till their owne scorne returne to them vnnoted

Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour:

So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse

Were in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,

His equall had awak'd them, and his honour

Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when

Exception bid him speake: and at this time

His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,

He vs'd as creatures of another place,

And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,

Making them proud of his humilitie,

In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man

Might be a copie to these yonger times;

Which followed well, would demonstrate them now

But goers backward

Ber. His good remembrance sir

Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:

So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,

As in your royall speech

King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,

(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue words

He scatter'd not in eares, but grafted them

To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,

This his good melancholly oft began

On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime

When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)

After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffe

Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses

All but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are

Meere fathers of their garments: whose constancies

Expire before their fashions: this he wish'd.

I after him, do after him wish too:

Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,

I quickly were dissolued from my hiue

To giue some Labourers roome

2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,

They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first

Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count

Since the Physitian at your fathers died?

He was much fam'd

Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord

Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.

Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me out

With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse

Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,

My sonne's no deerer

Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.

Exit

Flourish.

Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.

Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman

Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content,

I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past

endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make

foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues

we publish them

Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone

sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue,

'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you

lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough

to make such knaueries yours

Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore

fellow

Coun. Well sir

Clo. No maddam,

'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie

of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships

good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I

will doe as we may

Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?

Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case

Cou. In what case?

Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,

and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,

till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings

Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?

Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen

on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell

driues

Cou. Is this all your worships reason?

Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such as

they are

Cou. May the world know them?

Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you

and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that

I may repent

Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse

Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue

friends for my wiues sake

Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue

Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the

knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:

he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee

leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my

drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of

my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and

blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues 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 feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the

Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their

hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,

they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd

Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious

knaue?

Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the

next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full

true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your

Cuckow sings by kinde

Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon

Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen

come to you, of her I am to speake

Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with

her, Hellen I meane

Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,

Why the Grecians sacked Troy,

Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,

With that she sighed as she stood,

bis

And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be

good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one

good in ten

Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song

sirra

Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying

ath' song: would God would serue the world so

all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman

if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might

haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,

or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a

man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one

Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command

you?

Clo. That man should be at womans command, and

yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet

it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie

ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going

forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither.

Enter.

Cou. Well now

Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman

intirely

Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,

and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie

make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is

more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid

her then sheele demand

Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then

I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did

communicate to her selfe her owne words to her

owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they

toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee

loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse,

that had put such difference betwixt their two

estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might

onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins,

that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd

without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward:

This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of

sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held

my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in

the losse that may happen, it concernes you something

to know it

Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it

to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this

before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that

I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you

leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke

you for your honest care: I will speake with you further

anon.

Exit Steward.

Enter Hellen.

Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:

If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorne

Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong

Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,

It is the show, and seale of natures truth,

Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,

By our remembrances of daies forgon,

Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,

Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now

Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?

Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you

Hell. Mine honorable Mistris

Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I

sed a mother

Me thought 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 enwombed mine, 'tis often seene

Adoption striues with nature, and choise breedes

A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:

You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,

Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,

(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood

To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,

That this distempered messenger of wet?

The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my

daughter?

Hell. That I am not

Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother

Hell. Pardon Madam.

The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:

I am from humble, he from honored name:

No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,

My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I

His seruant liue, and will his vassall die:

He must not be my brother

Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother

Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were

So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,

Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,

I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,

So I were not his sister, cant no other,

But I your daughter, he must be my brother

Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,

God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother

So striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?

My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see

The mistrie of your louelinesse, and finde

Your salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:

You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd

Against the proclamation of thy passion

To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,

But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes

Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies

See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,

That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne

And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue

That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?

If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:

If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,

As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile

To tell me truelie

Hell. Good Madam pardon me

Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?

Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris

Cou. Loue you my Sonne?

Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?

Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond

Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:

The state of your affection, for your passions

Haue to the full appeach'd

Hell. Then I confesse

Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,

That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your

Sonne:

My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:

Be not offended, for it hurts not him

That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not

By any token of presumptuous suite,

Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,

Yet neuer know how that desert should be:

I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:

Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.

I still poure in the waters of my loue

And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like

Religious in mine error, I adore

The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,

But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,

Let not your hate incounter with my loue,

For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,

Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,

Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,

Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian

Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie

To her whose state is such, that cannot choose

But lend and giue where she is sure to loose;

That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,

But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies

Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,

To goe to Paris?

Hell. Madam I had

Cou. Wherefore? tell true

Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:

You know my Father left me some prescriptions

Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading

And manifest experience, had collected

For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me

In heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,

As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,

More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,

There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,

To cure the desperate languishings whereof

The King is render'd lost

Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?

Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;

Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,

Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,

Happily beene absent then

Cou. But thinke you Hellen,

If you should tender your supposed aide,

He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions

Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:

They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit

A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles

Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off

The danger to it selfe

Hell. There's something in't

More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st

Of his profession, that his good receipt,

Shall for my legacie be sanctified

Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor

But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture

The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,

By such a day, an houre

Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?

Hell. I Madam knowingly

Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,

Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings

To those of mine in Court, Ile staie at home

And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:

Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,

What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the

Florentine

warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.

King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles

Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:

Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all

The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,

And is enough for both

Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,

After well entred souldiers, to returne

And finde your grace in health

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart

Will not confesse he owes the mallady

That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,

Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnes

Of worthy French men: let higher Italy

(Those bated that inherit but the fall

Of the last Monarchy) see that you come

Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when

The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,

That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell

L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty

King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,

They say our French, lacke language to deny

If they demand: beware of being Captiues

Before you serue

Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings

King. Farewell, come hether to me

1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs

Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark

2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres

Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres

Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,

Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early

Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,

Steale away brauely

Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,

Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,

Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worne

But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away

1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft

Parr. Commit it Count

2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell

Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body

1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine

2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles

Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne,

good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You

shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine

Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on

his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it:

say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me

Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine

Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will

ye doe?

Ross. Stay the King

Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble

Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of

too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they

weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster

true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of

the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the

measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a

more dilated farewell

Ross. And I will doe so

Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie

sword-men.

Exeunt.

Enter Lafew.

L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings

King. Ile see thee to stand vp

L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,

I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,

And that at my bidding you could so stand vp

King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate

And askt thee mercy for't

Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,

Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?

King. No

Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?

Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if

My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine

That's able to breath life into a stone,

Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari

With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch

Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay

To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand

And write to her a loue-line

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,

If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,

If seriously I may conuay my thoughts

In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke

With one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,

Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more

Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?

For that is her demand, and know her businesse?

That done, laugh well at me

King. Now good Lafew,

Bring in the admiration, that we with thee

May spend our wonder too, or take off thine

By wondring how thou tookst it

Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,

And not be all day neither

King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues

Laf. Nay, come your waies.

Enter Hellen.

King. This haste hath wings indeed

Laf. Nay, come your waies,

This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,

A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors

His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,

That dare leaue two together, far you well.

Enter.

King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?

Hel. I my good Lord,

Gerard de Narbon was my father,

In what he did professe, well found

King. I knew him

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,

Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,

Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,

Which as the dearest issue of his practice

And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,

He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,

Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,

And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht

With that malignant cause, wherein the honour

Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,

I come to tender it, and my appliance,

With all bound humblenesse

King. We thanke you maiden,

But may not be so credulous of cure,

When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and

The congregated Colledge haue concluded,

That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature

From her inaydible estate: I say we must not

So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,

To prostitute our past-cure malladie

To empericks, or to disseuer so

Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme

A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme

Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:

I will no more enforce mine office on you,

Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,

A modest one to beare me backe againe

King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:

Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,

As one neere death to those that wish him liue:

But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,

I knowing all my perill, thou no Art

Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,

Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:

He that of greatest workes is finisher,

Oft does them by the weakest minister:

So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,

When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne

From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried

When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.

Oft expectation failes, and most oft there

Where most it promises: and oft it hits,

Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts

King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,

Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,

Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward

Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,

It is not so with him that all things knowes

As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:

But most it is presumption in vs, when

The help of heauen we count the act of men.

Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,

Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.

I am not an Imposture, that proclaime

My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,

But know I thinke, and thinke 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?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,

Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring

Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,

Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe

Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:

Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse

Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:

What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,

Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye

King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,

What dar'st thou venter?

Hell. Taxe of impudence,

A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame

Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name

Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended

With vildest torture, let my life be ended

Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak

His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:

And what impossibility would slay

In common sence, sence saues another way:

Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate

Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:

Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all

That happines and prime, can happy call:

Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate

Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,

Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,

That ministers thine owne death if I die

Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property

Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,

And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,

But if I helpe, what doe you promise me

Kin. Make thy demand

Hel. But will you make it euen?

Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe

Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand

What husband in thy power I will command:

Exempted be from me the arrogance

To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,

My low and humble name to propagate

With any branch or image of thy state:

But such a one thy vassall, whom I know

Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow

Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,

Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:

So make the choice of thy owne time, for I

Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:

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

Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.

Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,

As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.

Florish. Exit.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height

of your breeding

Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly

taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court

Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall,

when you put off that with such contempt, but to

the Court?

Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners,

hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot

make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing,

has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed

such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the

Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men

Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all

questions

Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes,

the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke,

or any buttocke

Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney,

as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as

Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday,

a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole,

the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a

wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth,

nay as the pudding to his skin

Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for

all questions?

Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,

it will fit any question

Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,

that must fit all demands

Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned

should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs

to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no

harme to learne

Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a

foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer

La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?

Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,

more, a hundred of them

La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you

Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me

La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely

meate

Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you

La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke

Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me

La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and

spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent

to your whipping: you would answere very well to a

whipping if you were but bound too't

Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord

sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer

La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine

it so merrily with a foole

Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen

La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,

And vrge her to a present answer backe,

Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,

This is not much

Clo. Not much commendation to them

La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand

me

Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges

La. Hast you agen.

Exeunt.

Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.

Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our

Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar

things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we

make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming

knowledge, when we should submit our selues to

an vnknowne feare

Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that

hath shot out in our latter times

Ros. And so 'tis

Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists

Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus

Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes

Par. Right so I say

Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable

Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too

Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd

Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-

Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death

Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said

Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world

Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you

shall reade it in what do ye call there

Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly

Actor

Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same

Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee

I speake in respect-

Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the

breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious

spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-

Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen

Par. I, so I say

Ol.Laf. In a most weake-

Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,

which should indeede giue vs a further vse to

be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee

Old Laf. Generally thankfull.

Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.

Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes

the King

Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a

maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why

he's able to leade her a Carranto

Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?

Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so

King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,

Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,

And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence

Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue

The confirmation of my promis'd guift,

Which but attends thy naming.

Enter 3 or 4 Lords.

Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell

Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,

Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice

I haue to vse; thy franke election make,

Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake

Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;

Fall when loue please, marry to each but one

Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture

My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,

And writ as little beard

King. Peruse them well:

Not one of those, but had a Noble father.

She addresses her to a Lord.

Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd

the king to health

All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you

Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest

That I protest, I simply am a Maide:

Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:

The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,

We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;

Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,

Wee'l nere come there againe

King. Make choise and see,

Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee

Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,

And to imperiall loue, that God most high

Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?

1.Lo. And grant it

Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute

Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw

Ames-ace for my life

Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,

Before I speake too threatningly replies:

Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue

Her that so wishes, and her humble loue

2.Lo. No better if you please

Hel. My wish receiue,

Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue

Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons

of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them

to'th Turke to make Eunuches of

Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,

Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:

Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed

Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed

Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none

haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the

French nere got em

La. You are too young, too happie, and too good

To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood

4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so

Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father

drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth

of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already

Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue

Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue

Into your guiding power: This is the man

King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy

wife

Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes

In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse

The helpe of mine owne eies

King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's

done for mee?

Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know

why I should marrie her

King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly

bed

Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe

Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:

Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:

A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine

Rather corrupt me euer

King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which

I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods

Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,

Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off

In differences so mightie. If she bee

All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)

A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st

Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:

From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,

The place is dignified by th' doers deede.

Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,

It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,

Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:

The propertie by what is is, should go,

Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,

In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:

And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,

Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,

And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,

When rather from our acts we them deriue

Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue

Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:

A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,

Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.

Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?

If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,

I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee

Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee

Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't

King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue

to choose

Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:

Let the rest go

King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate

I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,

Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,

That dost in vile misprision shackle vp

My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,

We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,

It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where

We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:

Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:

Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie

Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right

Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,

Or I will throw thee from my care for euer

Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse

Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate

Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,

Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer

Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit

My fancie to your eies, when I consider

What great creation, and what dole of honour

Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late

Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now

The praised of the King, who so ennobled,

Is as 'twere borne so

King. Take her by the hand,

And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise

A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,

A ballance more repleat

Ber. I take her hand