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Jaq. But for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed; Bear your body more seeming, Audrey : :- as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: This is called the Retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is call'd the Reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This is call'd the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This is call'd the Countercheck quarrelsome: and so to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct.

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well cut?

Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted.

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book: as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous ; the second the Quip modest; the third, the Reply churlish; the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck quarrelsome: the sixth, the Lie with circumstance; the seventh, the Lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought | but of an If, as, If you said so, then I said so; And they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit.

Enter HYMEN, leading ROSALIND in woman's clothes; and CELIA.

Still Musick.

Hym. Then is there murth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together.
Good duke, receive thy daughter,
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither;
That thou might'st join her hand with hus,
Whose heart within her bosom is.

To you I give myself, for I am yours.

Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [TO DUKE S. [TO ORLANDO.

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Of these most strange events: Here's eight that must take hands, To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part:

[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. You and you are heart in heart:

[To OLIVER and CELIA, You [to PHEBE] to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord: — You and you are sure together,

[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. As the winter to foul weather. Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning; That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish.

SONG. Wedding is great Juno's crown;

O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured : Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town!

Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to

me;

Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

[TO SILVIUS.

Enter JAQUEs de Bois.

Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two;

:

I am the second son of old sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly :
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ;
Where, meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor'd to them again
That were with him exíl'd: This to be true,
I do engage my life.

Duke S.

Welcome, young man ; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brother's wedding: To one, his lands with-held and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends

That here were well begun, and well begot:
And after, every of this happy number,
That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us,
Shall share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity,
And fall into our rustick revelry:

Play, musick-and you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.

Jaq. Sir, by your patience; if I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. You to your former honour I bequeath;

[TO DUKE S. Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :

:

You [to ORLANDO] to a love, that your true faith doth merit:

You [to OLIVER] to your land, and love, and great

allies:

You [to SILVIUS] to a long and well deserved bed:

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, 0

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EPILOGUE.

women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please them: and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

KING OF FRANCE.
DUKE OF FLORENCE.

Steward, }

A Page.

BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.

LAFEU, an old lord.
PAROLLES, a

Bertram.

Several young French Lords, that serve with Ber- MOLENTA, neighbours and friends to the Widow.

tram in the Florentine war.

servants to the Countess of Rousillon.

SCENE I.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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SCENE,-partly in FRANCE, and partly in TUSCANY

ACT I.

-Rousillon. A Room in the Coun- | and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de
tess's Palace.
Narbon.

Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON,
HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a

second husband.

Ber. 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.

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram.
HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess
An old Widow of Florence.
DIANA, daughter to the Widow.

Laf. 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.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c.
French and Florentine.

Laf. 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 of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, 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.

Laf. How called you the man, you speak of, madam ? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession,

Laf. 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.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. 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 make 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.

Laf. Your commendation madam, get from her

tears.

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Count. '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, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy virgins might blow up men?

father

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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 it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were 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.
The 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 relicks. Who comes here?

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Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!· Is there no military policy, how

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. 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?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. 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 politick 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 metal 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 it.

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

:

Par. 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 ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: Away with't.

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. 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 tooth-pick, 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 dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it? Hel. 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

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Par. What one, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well. - 'Tis pity
Par. What's pity?

Hel. 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 neve?
Returns us thanks.

2

Enter a Page.

2 Lord.

It may well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.
King.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Erit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

must needs be born under Mars.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness

Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight.

Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. 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.

Par. 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. [Exit.

Hel. 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 de 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 fix'd, and will not leave me.

[Exit. SCENE II.- Paris. A Room in the King's Palace.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE,
with letters; Lords and others attending.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.

1 Lord.

What's he comes here?

Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King. He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes: Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leve To stand on either part.

now,

First try'd our soldiership! He did look far
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship

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
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place;
And bow'd 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, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now,
But goers backward.

Ber.

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 al

So 'tis reported, sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it I, after him, do after him wish too,
A certainty, vouch'd 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.

1 Lord.

His love and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.

ways say,

(Methinks, I hear him now: his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear,). Let me not li
Thus 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 judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions:
This he wish'd:

Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.
Lord.

You are lov'd, sir: They, that least lend it shall lack you, first. you King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't,

count,

Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much fam'd.

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Ber. 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

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