The RSC Shakespeare

Edited by Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen

Chief Associate Editors: Jan Sewell and Will Sharpe

Associate Editors: Trey Jansen, Eleanor Lowe, Lucy Munro,

Dee Anna Phares, Héloïse Sénéchal

All’s Well That Ends Well

Textual editing: Eric Rasmussen

Introduction and Shakespeare’s Career in the Theater: Jonathan Bate

Commentary: Eleanor Lowe and Héloïse Sénéchal

Scene-by-Scene Analysis: Jan Sewell

In Performance: Maria Jones (RSC stagings) and Jan Sewell (overview)

The Director’s Cut (interviews by Jan Sewell and Kevin Wright):

Gregory Doran and Stephen Fried

Guy Henry on Playing Parolles

Editorial Advisory Board

Gregory Doran, Chief Associate Director, Royal Shakespeare Company

Jim Davis, Professor of Theatre Studies, University of Warwick, UK

Charles Edelman, Senior Lecturer, Edith Cowan University,

Western Australia

Lukas Erne, Professor of Modern English Literature,

Université de Genève, Switzerland

Jacqui O’Hanlon, Director of Education, Royal Shakespeare Company

Akiko Kusunoki, Tokyo Woman’s Christian University, Japan

Ron Rosenbaum, author and journalist, New York, USA

James Shapiro, Professor of English and Comparative Literature,

Columbia University, USA

Tiffany Stern, Professor and Tutor in English, University of Oxford, UK

2011 Modern Library Paperback Edition

Copyright © 2007, 2011 by The Royal Shakespeare Company

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Modern Library, an imprint of

The Random House Publishing Group, a division of

Random House, Inc., New York.

MODERN LIBRARY and the TORCHBEARER Design are registered trademarks

of Random House, Inc.

“Royal Shakespeare Company,” “RSC,” and the RSC logo are trademarks or registered trademarks of The Royal Shakespeare Company.

The version of All’s Well That Ends Well and the corresponding footnotes that appear in this volume were originally published in William Shakespeare: Complete Works, edited by Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen, published in 2007 by Modern Library, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-1-58836-884-3

www.modernlibrary.com

Cover design: Gabrielle Bordwin

Cover photograph: © Margie Hurwich/Arcangel Images

v3.1

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

“He Wears His Honour in a Box Unseen”

The New Code of the Self

The Critics Debate

About the Text

Key Facts

All’s Well That Ends Well

Act 1

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Act 2

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Act 3

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Scene 6

Scene 7

Act 4

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Scene 4

Scene 5

Act 5

Scene 1

Scene 2

Scene 3

Textual Notes

Scene-by-Scene Analysis

All’s Well That Ends Well in Performance: The RSC and Beyond

Four Centuries of All’s Well: An Overview

At the RSC

The Director’s Cut: Interviews with Gregory Doran and Stephen Fried

Guy Henry on Playing Parolles

Shakespeare’s Career in the Theater

Beginnings

Playhouses

The Ensemble at Work

The King’s Man

Shakespeare’s Works: A Chronology

Further Reading and Viewing

References

Acknowledgments and Picture Credits

INTRODUCTION

“HE WEARS HIS HONOUR IN A BOX UNSEEN”

All’s Well That Ends Well is one of Shakespeare’s least performed and least loved comedies. It is also one of his most fascinating and intriguingly modern works. The play presents a battlefield of opposing value systems: abstract codes jostle against material commodities, words are undermined by actions, generation argues with generation, and a sex war rages.

The language of sexual relations is persistently intermingled with that of warfare. The key word, deployed with equal force in conversations about the bedroom, the court, and the battlefield, is “honour.” The atmosphere feels very different from that of Shakespeare’s comic green world. All’s Well shares the darker view of human nature and the more troubling preoccupations of three other plays written at the end of Queen Elizabeth I’s reign and the beginning of James I’s: Troilus and Cressida, Othello, and Measure for Measure.

In the very first scene, virginity is described by Parolles as woman’s weapon of resistance. But man will besiege it, “undermine” it, and “blow up” his foe—make her pregnant. Like honor, virginity may variously be seen as a mystical treasure, a mark of integrity, a marketable commodity, and a kind of nothing. Traditional wisdom suggests that it is something a girl must preserve with care. But the play is full of proverbs and moral maxims that are found wanting, “undermined” by the demands of the body. Lavatch, Shakespeare’s most cynical and lascivious fool, is on hand to remind us of this. “I am driven on by the flesh,” he remarks, suggesting that the story of the sexes boils down to “Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger.” “Tib” was a generic name for a whore; the “rush” is a rudimentary wedding ring fashioned from reeds, but a woman’s “ring” is also the place where she is penetrated by a man’s nether finger.

“War,” says Bertram, “is no strife / To the dark house and the detested wife.” For a young man in search of action, a wife is but a “clog,” a block of wood tied to an animal to prevent it from escaping. Parolles voices the same sentiment in the tumble of language that is his hallmark:

… To th’wars, my boy, to th’wars!

He wears his honour in a box unseen

That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,

Spending his manly marrow in her arms,

Which should sustain the bound and high curvet

Of Mars’ fiery steed. To other regions,

France is a stable, we that dwell in’t jades:

Therefore, to th’war!

“Kicky-wicky” is an abusive term for a wife, the “box unseen” is the vagina, and “marrow” is the essence of manliness (according to ancient physiology, semen was distilled from the marrow in the backbone). A proper man, Parolles suggests, should be off riding a “fiery steed” into battle, in the spirit of Mars, god of war; those who stay at home are no better than female horses, good only for breeding and sexual indulgence (“jade” was another slang term for whore).

All’s Well is in the mainstream of comedy insofar as it is about young people and the process of growing up. Bertram is like most young men of every era: he wants to be one of the boys, to prove his manhood. Enlistment in the army provides the ideal opportunity. He wants to sow some wild oats along the way, but is not ready for marriage. Critics hate him for not loving the lovely humble Helen from the start. “I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram,” wrote Dr. Johnson with characteristic candor and forthrightness, “a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helen as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness.”[1] Of course there is something obnoxious in the snobbery with which Bertram first dismisses Helen on the grounds of her low status, but when he goes on to say that he is simply not in love with her, he reveals a kind of integrity. He bows to the King’s will and marries her, but since his heart does not belong to her he refuses to give her his body. If a woman were forced to marry in this way, we would rather admire her for withholding sexual favors from her husband.

THE NEW CODE OF THE SELF

Bertram represents modernity in that he acts according to an existential principle: he follows his own self, not some preexistent code of duty, service to his monarch, or obligation to the older generation. One word for this code is indeed integrity. Another is selfishness. It is the prerogative of the old, especially mothers, to know, to suffer, and still to forgive the selfishness of their young. Bertram’s mother, the widowed Countess of Rossillion, who treats the orphaned Helen like a daughter and is only too happy to accept her as a daughter-in-law, regardless of her lowly background, was described by George Bernard Shaw as “the most beautiful old woman’s part ever written” (though she could perfectly well be in her forties). Since female parts were written for young male actors, strong maternal roles such as this are exceptional in Shakespeare. The only analogous parts are the more overbearing figures of Queen Margaret in the Henry VI plays, Tamora in Titus Andronicus, and Volumnia in Coriolanus. The serenity of the Countess has meant that the principal reason for modern revivals of All’s Well has been the opportunity to showcase actresses such as Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, and Judi Dench in their later years.

One of the key debates in the play is that between nature and nurture. The Countess of Rossillion believes that her son is a fundamentally good boy who has fallen into bad company, as embodied by the worthless Parolles. Helen, meanwhile, has strong natural qualities (the “dispositions she inherits”) reinforced by a loving and responsible upbringing (the “education” she has received first from her doctor father, then in the household of the Countess).

Parallel to the question of nature and nurture is that of divine providence and individual responsibility. Helen believes that “Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, / Which we ascribe to heaven”: like Bertram, she is a voice of modernity in her belief that individuals can carve their own destiny. She does so by means of disguise and bold solo travel: from Rossillion in southwest France to Paris, where she gains access to the King, then to Florence in the dress of a pilgrim en route to Compostela. Like Julia in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Rosalind in As You Like It, and Viola in Twelfth Night, she uses her disguised self as an opportunity to talk about her true feelings. The part is the longest in the play and it gives an actor great opportunities for the portrayal of an isolated young woman’s self-exploration through both soliloquy and dialogue in lucid and serpentine verse, not to mention passages of prose banter and some piercing asides.

As Dr. Johnson dryly noted, the geography seems somewhat awry when Helen undertakes her pilgrimage: in going from France to Spain via Italy, she is “somewhat out of the road.” Such details did not matter to Shakespeare. For him, the pilgrim motif—taken over from the story in Boccaccio that was his source for the main plot of the play—had symbolic importance in that it associated Helen with an older value structure of reverence and self-sacrifice even as she asserts her own will. Pilgrims are people who believe in miracles, so Helen’s adoption of the role allies her with the worldview voiced by the old courtier Lafew after she has cured the King: “They say miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.”

Yet Helen is only a pretended pilgrim and the King has been cured not by a miracle but by the medical knowledge she has inherited from her father. Again and again the play takes a fairy-tale motif and turns it into something tougher, more earthly and open to philosophical debate. Lafew’s generalization sets up the key scene in which Bertram rejects Helen. The idea of unquestioning obedience to the King’s will is itself a thing “supernatural and causeless.” It depends upon an “unknown fear,” the mystique of monarchy, the idea that the King is God’s representative on earth and that to challenge him will cause the entire fabric of the natural order to collapse. In a crucial rhyming couplet near the end of the play—often editorially reassigned to the Countess of Rossillion for no good textual reason—the King says that, since he has failed in his management of Bertram’s first marriage, the second had better be a success, otherwise “nature” may as well “cesse” (cease).

Shakespeare’s instinctive conservatism tips the balance in favor of the old order. The King, the Countess, and the old courtier are generous and ethically admirable, much more obviously sympathetic than Bertram, Parolles, and Lavatch. Bertram has to be tricked out of his sexual selfishness and Parolles out of his vainglory, but still Shakespeare the role-player and wordsmith invests huge dramatic energy in the darker characters. He uses them to open cracks in the established order. The King tells Bertram that Helen should be viewed for what she is within, not by way of the superficial trappings of wealth and rank: “The property by what it is should go, / Not by the title.” Yet his own authority depends on his title, and the “go by what it is” argument might be turned to say that if Bertram does not love Helen he should not marry her. The King moves swiftly from reasoning to the assertion of raw authority: “My honour’s at the stake, which to defeat, / I must produce my power.” Shakespeare’s intensely compacted writing style makes the point. By “which to defeat,” the King means “in order to defeat the threat to my honour,” but ironically the very need to produce his “power” itself defeats the code of honor. As so often in Shakespeare’s darker plays, the figure of Niccolò Machiavelli lurks in the shadows, whispering that fine old codes such as honor and duty can only be underwritten by raw power.

He who asserts the new code of the self must live by that code. Both Bertram and Parolles are found out. The two lords Dumaine are not only mechanics in the double plot of ambush and bed trick, but also commentators upon how their victims are brought to self-knowledge: “As we are ourselves, what things are we! / Merely our own traitors.” The Dumaines too are young and modern in their recognition that we cannot simply sort our kind into sheep and goats in the manner of authoritarian religious dispensations. They propose instead that human life is shaded gray: “The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.” This could be the epigraph for Shakespeare’s dramatically mingled yarn of tragicomedy.

Parolles comes to acknowledge his boastful tongue. “Simply the thing I am / Shall make me live,” he vows. What, though, can this mean, given that—as his name indicates—he is made of nothing but words? Bertram, meanwhile, only comes to realize how much Helen is to be valued when she has been lost. The fiction of comedy gives him a second chance to love her. But in the modern world where there are no miracles, “all’s well that ends well” is a fiction. Along the way we have been promised on more than one occasion that all will end well, but when it comes to the climax the King says that “all yet seems well” and that “if it end so meet” then all bitterness will be past. Those little conditional qualifiers leave open the door to the tragic world.

THE CRITICS DEBATE

Early critics regarded All’s Well as a farce, then as a romance, then largely as a failure in psychological realism. In the nineteenth century, commentators highlighted a lack of poetry in the drama: “The style of the whole is more sententious than imaginative: the glowing colours of fancy could not with propriety have been employed on such a subject.”[2]

At the turn of the nineteenth century into the twentieth, George Bernard Shaw suggested that the problem of the play was its modernity: a part such as that of Helen was “too genuine and beautiful and modern for the public.”[3] In Shaw’s view, Helen’s independence of mind made her into a proto-feminist heroine, an anticipation of the female characters in the plays of Henrik Ibsen who sought to escape the doll’s house. Shaw was reacting to the very mixed reception that had long been accorded to Helen, the fact that some had idealized her and others demonized her. Samuel Taylor Coleridge did both: on one occasion he described her as Shakespeare’s “loveliest character,”[4] while on another he suggested that “Bertram had surely good reason to look upon the King’s forcing him to marry Helena as a very tyrannical act. Indeed, it must be confessed that her character is not very delicate, and it required all Shakespeare’s consummate skill to interest us for her.”[5]

For Anna Jameson, writing in the 1830s as the first female critic to reflect at length upon Shakespeare’s women, Helen exemplified the virtue of patience in the face of adversity and male infidelity: “There never was, perhaps, a more beautiful picture of a woman’s love, cherished in secret, not self-consuming in silent languishment … but patient and hopeful, strong in its own intensity, and sustained by its own fond faith.”[6] A couple of generations later, the great actress Ellen Terry begged to disagree, describing Helen as belonging to the “doormat” type: “They bear any amount of humiliation from the men they love, seem almost to enjoy being maltreated and scorned by them, and hunt them down in the most undignified way when they are trying to escape. The fraud with which Helena captures Bertram, who has left his home and country to get away from her, is really despicable.”[7]

Bertram, by contrast to Helen, has always been roundly condemned by the great majority of critics. As already noted, Dr. Johnson set the tone of the debate with his remark that he could not reconcile his heart to Bertram. Coleridge tried to mount a defense, but resorted to special pleading on the grounds of status and alleged partial knowledge:

I cannot agree with the solemn abuse which the critics have poured out upon Bertram … He was a young nobleman in feudal times, just bursting into manhood, with all the feelings of pride of birth, and appetite for pleasure and liberty, natural to such a character so circumstanced. Of course, he had never regarded Helena otherwise than as a dependant in the family; and of all that which she possessed of goodness and fidelity and courage, which might atone for her inferiority in other respects, Bertram was necessarily in a great measure ignorant.[8]

For twentieth-century critics, the main problem with the play was more a matter of genre and tone than of the morality of the central characters. It was suggested that there was an incongruity between the realistic characterization and the folktale or even fairy-tale plot:

Shakespeare transferred the Decameron story [the main source of his plot] from sunlight into shadow, not abandoning Boccaccio’s naturalism, but making it problematic, turning its social and sexual givens into occasions for moral reflection and private anguish. As a result, character and motive become contradictory, and standards of judgement other than the right and natural claims of love make ironic and questionable the implications of the original.[9]

The plot contains strong folktale motifs, such as those that have been described as the Healing of the King, the Fulfillment of Tasks, and the Clever Wench. Some critics have accordingly suggested that this gives primacy to structure and plot over psychology and interior life. The play can be read as a “romantic fable” in which

the intrigues and deceptions of the plot are stressed. In order to bring out the traditional basis for the story, the movement of the play builds to three peaks, the cure of the King, the use of the bed-trick, and the redemption of Bertram. Each is accentuated as the fulfilment of a task which will lead to the resolution of the dilemma … Since psychological motivation is relatively unimportant, the other characters fill out the play as stock figures.[10]

Yet at the same time, a much more hard-edged reading is possible:

Considered as the basis for a serious play, the plot may expose the moral problem of birth versus merit, the social problem which explores the legitimacy of female aggression, or the domestic problems of the unwanted wife … If the play is regarded as satire, then cynicism infects the realism. The dark mood is established in the first scene by the stress on disease, old age and death.[11]

So it is that “the characterization of the major dramatic persons is at odds with the final tendency of the action, in which a tone of irony and often satire conflicts with the ‘all’s well’ complacency implied by the fairy-tale elements, and in which a concrete, realistic presentation works at cross purposes with the romantic image of experience which the play seems trying to project.”[12]

Such difficulties and variation in interpretation, and the perceived contradictions within both the action and the characterization, resulted in twentieth-century critics’ identifying All’s Well as one of Shakespeare’s “problem” plays. This term was first used to describe the realistic dramas of the nineteenth century, those of Ibsen especially, that confronted controversial social issues by means of onstage debate, often with characters representing conflicting attitudes and points of view. The critic F. S. Boas, writing under the influence of Shaw, applied the term to All’s Well, Measure for Measure, and Troilus and Cressida, three sex-charged plays that he thought shared an interest in social problems. Subsequent criticism applied the term more loosely, and corralled more Shakespearean plays within it, often emphasizing problems of form as well as content. All’s Well and Measure for Measure in particular were seen as “problem comedies” because they did not conform to the supposed comic norm of a light touch and a happy ending. The related term “dark comedies” has also been used. So, for example, the ending was seen as a special problem. What were Shakespeare’s intentions? Critics have fiercely debated “whether he meant Helena to be regarded as noble and admirable, or as a schemer and a harpy, why he blackened the character of Bertram and yet rewarded him at the end, and whether he meant the final reconciliation of Bertram and Helena to be taken as a prelude to future bliss, or ironically, as a union which must ultimately result in disaster.”[13]

More recent criticism has continued to emphasize “problems” even as the terms of the debate have been converted into those of modern gender politics. The play has been especially amenable to analysis on these lines because it inverts the literary and dramatic norm whereby it is customarily the man who pursues the woman:

Helena has been a puzzle and provocation to critics because she occupies the masculine position of desiring subject, even as she apologises fulsomely for her unfeminine forwardness and works desperately to situate herself within the feminine position of desired object. Bertram, too, poses problems because he occupies the feminine space of the Other, even as he struggles to define himself as a man by becoming a military and sexual conqueror. He is the desired object, the end of the hero’s—or in this case heroine’s—gendered journey of self-fulfilment.[14]

By this account, Helen becomes one of Shakespeare’s most interesting comic heroines, not least because she is given genuinely introspective soliloquies:

The intensity and extremity which have come to her from folktale … combine with the quality of female self-containedness with which Shakespeare seems to have been more and more concerned in the mature comedies. And from the fusion of these two things there emerges a radically new comic heroine. For Helena is inward … She is much given to secrecies and reticences.[15]

The richness of her interior life makes it surprising that the role has not been taken on by more of the major female actors of modern times.

It has long been recognized that the parallel between Bertram and Parolles is central to the structure of the play:

Both are “seemers.” Grant this, and the whole sub-plot of the exposure of “Mr Words” has its place and point: Parolles is there to be stripped; and stripped at just the very moment when Bertram’s fortunes reach their apogee (in his suppositious conquest of Diana) and begin to turn retrograde—towards his own exposure.[16]

With the advent of explicit feminism and the late twentieth-century war between the sexes, it became easier for critics and audiences to see not just the shadowing of Bertram in Parolles but also the broader parallelism between the sex plot and the war plot:

The shaming of Parolles runs counterpoint, in carefully matched scenes, to Bertram’s attempt to seduce Diana and his own deception by the bed-trick … Bertram is trying to satisfy sexual relations impersonally in terms of war, translating male aggression into promiscuity, in which sex is treated as the taking and possessing of a woman’s “spoil,” repudiating responsibility and abandoning the woman as soon as she has surrendered.[17]

The play’s explicit concern with social mobility seems equally modern in its application. Northrop Frye, one of the great twentieth-century critics, argued that All’s Well is almost the only Shakespearean play in which there is an explicit social promotion in the foreground of the action: “It is emphasized that Helena is below Bertram in social status, and that it takes direct intervention of the king to make her marriage possible. Such a theme introduces the conception of one’s ‘natural place’ in society, the position for which one is fitted by one’s talents and social function.”[18] Shakespeare perennially pitted old values and structures against new, perhaps especially so in the changed world of the first years of King James’ reign, after old Queen Elizabeth’s death in 1603. Northrop Frye again:

All’s Well has a … restless feeling of social change about it, with Bertram being pulled out of the clichés of family pride in the direction of Helena’s still mysterious capacities, Helena herself advancing from the background of the Roussillon household to a primary place in it, the clown Lavache turning philosophical, and the captain Parolles becoming a licensed fool in Lafeu’s train … especially in Lavache’s oracular speech, there is a faint whisper of the vision of social reversal … The king remains the king, of course, but when the actor playing him goes out to ask for the audience’s applause, his opening line is “The king’s a beggar, now the play is done.”[19]

The secular social and political order jostles against an ancient, more magical and providential, way of thinking, embodied by the virtues of the older generation, who constitute Shakespeare’s most striking addition to his source in Boccaccio: “The character and moral weight Shakespeare gives [the King] strengthen the effects of the Countess and Lafeu as types of old nobility: surviving exemplars of a generation, or a world, which is passing away. He is a sadly nostalgic figure.”[20]

The sense of a transitional moment between two worlds helps to explain the puzzling tone of the ending. Beside the tragic potential there are elements of magical restitution and regeneration akin to those in Shakespeare’s late romances such as The Winter’s Tale and Pericles. There is a progression from Helen’s miraculous cure of the King to her own “resurrection” and the (apparent?) moral regeneration of Bertram. As the King comes close to death and Helen is supposed to have died but returns home to become a wife, so “Parolles, who blindfolded has heard the order for his own execution, discovers when his blindfold is removed—symbolically as well as actually—that he is not really going to be killed. Bertram, too … is recalled from death in the course of the play.”[21] All’s Well is a complex drama of both death and new life:

There is the current of self-wasting energy … symbolized by Bertram’s self-will, Parolles’ lack of heroism, and Lavache’s vision of the great mass of people drifting to the “broad gate and the great fire.” There is also the reversal of this current of energy backward into a renewed and creative life. The play opens with older characters “all in black,” talking mainly about the dead; it proceeds through the healing of an impotent king … Helena rejuvenates the family, the king, and may even rejuvenate Bertram’s fixated notions of family honour and tradition.[22]

Certainly the play offers an explicit challenge to its own title, the old comic idea of all’s well that ends well:

From a “universal” point of view, we may see the dramatic world thrown into disorder and confusion by Helena’s elaborate introduction of half-truths and then miraculously restored to order and sanity when Helena herself comes forward, returned from the dead, to dispense a spirit of love and charity. But even so, there is Bertram—deceitful, vindictive, petty—a very real and unpleasant fly in the ointment of universal forgiveness.[23]

But ultimately, in the words of John Barton, among the most critically astute of modern Shakespearean directors, “ ‘cynical’ isn’t quite the right word for the ending: the tone is more one of a worldly tolerance of people.”[24]

ABOUT THE TEXT

Shakespeare endures through history. He illuminates later times as well as his own. He helps us to understand the human condition. But he cannot do this without a good text of the plays. Without editions there would be no Shakespeare. That is why every twenty years or so throughout the last three centuries there has been a major new edition of his complete works. One aspect of editing is the process of keeping the texts up to date—modernizing the spelling, punctuation, and typography (though not, of course, the actual words), providing explanatory notes in the light of changing educational practices (a generation ago, most of Shakespeare’s classical and biblical allusions could be assumed to be generally understood, but now they can’t).

Because Shakespeare did not personally oversee the publication of his plays, with some plays there are major editorial difficulties. Decisions have to be made as to the relative authority of the early printed editions, the pocket format “Quartos” published in Shakespeare’s lifetime and the elaborately produced “First Folio” text of 1623, the original “Complete Works” prepared for the press after his death by Shakespeare’s fellow actors, the people who knew the plays better than anyone else. All’s Well That Ends Well exists only in a Folio text that is problematic in some aspects and suggests a rather difficult-to-read manuscript was used as printer’s copy (see “Key Facts”).

The following notes highlight various aspects of the editorial process and indicate conventions used in the text of this edition:

Lists of Parts are supplied in the First Folio for only six plays, not including All’s Well That Ends Well, so the list here is editorially supplied. Capitals indicate that part of the name used for speech headings in the script (thus “BERTRAM, Count of Rossillion”).

Locations are provided by Folio for only two plays, of which All’s Well That Ends Well is not one. Eighteenth-century editors, working in an age of elaborately realistic stage sets, were the first to provide detailed locations (“another part of the city”). Given that Shakespeare wrote for a bare stage and often an imprecise sense of place, we have relegated locations to the explanatory notes, where they are given at the beginning of each scene where the imaginary location is different from the one before.

Act and Scene Divisions were provided in the Folio in a much more thoroughgoing way than in the Quartos. Sometimes, however, they were erroneous or omitted; corrections and additions supplied by editorial tradition are indicated by square brackets. Five-act division is based on a classical model, and act breaks provided the opportunity to replace the candles in the indoor Blackfriars playhouse which the King’s Men used after 1608, but Shakespeare did not necessarily think in terms of a five-part structure of dramatic composition. The Folio convention is that a scene ends when the stage is empty. Nowadays, partly under the influence of film, we tend to consider a scene to be a dramatic unit that ends with either a change of imaginary location or a significant passage of time within the narrative. Shakespeare’s fluidity of composition accords well with this convention, so in addition to act and scene numbers we provide a running scene count in the right margin at the beginning of each new scene, in the typeface used for editorial directions. Where there is a scene break caused by a momentary bare stage, but the location does not change and extra time does not pass, we use the convention running scene continues. There is inevitably a degree of editorial judgment in making such calls, but the system is very valuable in suggesting the pace of the plays.

Speakers’ Names are often inconsistent in Folio. We have regularized speech headings, but retained an element of deliberate inconsistency in entry directions, in order to give the flavor of Folio. Thus BERTRAM is always so-called in his speech headings, but is often referred to as “Count of Rossillion,” “Count Rossillion,” or “Count” in entry directions.

Verse is indicated by lines that do not run to the right margin and by capitalization of each line. The Folio printers sometimes set verse as prose, and vice versa (either out of misunderstanding or for reasons of space). We have silently corrected in such cases, although in some instances there is ambiguity, in which case we have leaned toward the preservation of Folio layout. Folio sometimes uses contraction (“turnd” rather than “turned”) to indicate whether or not the final “-ed” of a past participle is sounded, an area where there is variation for the sake of the five-beat iambic pentameter rhythm. We use the convention of a grave accent to indicate sounding (thus “turnèd” would be two syllables), but would urge actors not to overstress. In cases where one speaker ends with a verse half line and the next begins with the other half of the pentameter, editors since the late eighteenth century have indented the second line. We have abandoned this convention, since the Folio does not use it, nor did actors’ cues in the Shakespearean theater. An exception is made when the second speaker actively interrupts or completes the first speaker’s sentence.

Spelling is modernized, but older forms are very occasionally maintained where necessary for rhythm or aural effect.

Punctuation in Shakespeare’s time was as much rhetorical as grammatical. “Colon” was originally a term for a unit of thought in an argument. The semicolon was a new unit of punctuation (some of the Quartos lack them altogether). We have modernized punctuation throughout, but have given more weight to Folio punctuation than many editors, since, though not Shakespearean, it reflects the usage of his period. In particular, we have used the colon far more than many editors: it is exceptionally useful as a way of indicating how many Shakespearean speeches unfold clause by clause in a developing argument that gives the illusion of enacting the process of thinking in the moment. We have also kept in mind the origin of punctuation in classical times as a way of assisting the actor and orator: the comma suggests the briefest of pauses for breath, the colon a middling one, and a full stop or period a longer pause. Semicolons, by contrast, belong to an era of punctuation that was only just coming in during Shakespeare’s time and that is coming to an end now: we have accordingly only used them where they occur in our copy texts (and not always then). Dashes are sometimes used for parenthetical interjections where the Folio has brackets. They are also used for interruptions and changes in train of thought. Where a change of addressee occurs within a speech, we have used a dash preceded by a period (or occasionally another form of punctuation). Often the identity of the respective addressees is obvious from the context. When it is not, this has been indicated in a marginal stage direction.

Entrances and Exits are fairly thorough in Folio, which has accordingly been followed as faithfully as possible. Where characters are omitted or corrections are necessary, this is indicated by square brackets (e.g. “[and Attendants]”). Exit is sometimes silently normalized to Exeunt and Manet anglicized to “remains.” We trust Folio positioning of entrances and exits to a greater degree than most editors.

Editorial Stage Directions such as stage business, asides, indications of addressee and of characters’ position on the gallery stage are only used sparingly in Folio. Other editions mingle directions of this kind with original Folio and Quarto directions, sometimes marking them by means of square brackets. We have sought to distinguish what could be described as directorial interventions of this kind from Folio-style directions (either original or supplied) by placing them in the right margin in a smaller typeface. There is a degree of subjectivity about which directions are of which kind, but the procedure is intended as a reminder to the reader and the actor that Shakespearean stage directions are often dependent upon editorial inference alone and are not set in stone. We also depart from editorial tradition in sometimes admitting uncertainty and thus printing permissive stage directions, such as an Aside? (often a line may be equally effective as an aside or as a direct address—it is for each production or reading to make its own decision) or a may exit or a piece of business placed between arrows to indicate that it may occur at various different moments within a scene.

Line Numbers are editorial, for reference and to key the explanatory and textual notes.

Explanatory Notes explain allusions and gloss obsolete and difficult words, confusing phraseology, occasional major textual cruces, and so on. Particular attention is given to nonstandard usage, bawdy innuendo, and technical terms (e.g. legal and military language). Where more than one sense is given, commas indicate shades of related meaning, slashes alternative or double meanings.

Textual Notes at the end of the play indicate major departures from the Folio. They take the following form: the reading of our text is given in bold and its source given after an equals sign with “F2” indicating a correction that derives from the Second Folio of 1632, “F3” a correction from the Third Folio of 1663—64, “F4” one from the Fourth Folio of 1685, and “Ed” one that derives from the subsequent editorial tradition. The rejected Folio (“F”) reading is then given. Thus for Act 2 Scene 5 line 30: “2.5.30 heard = F2. F = hard” means we have adopted F2’s “heard” instead of Folio’s “hard” in the phrase “should be once heard and thrice beaten,” judging that it makes better sense of the line and that “hard” was either a scribal or compositorial error.

KEY FACTS

MAJOR PARTS: (with percentages of lines/number of speeches/scenes onstage) Helen (16%/109/12), Parolles (13%/141/11), King of France (13%/87/4), Countess (10%/86/7), Bertram (9%/102/10), Lafew (9%/97/7), Lavatch (7%/58/6), First Lord Dumaine (5%/ 70/7), Second Lord Dumaine (4%/47/6), Diana (4%/44/4), First Soldier/Interpreter (3%/37/2), Widow (2%/21/5).

LINGUISTIC MEDIUM: 55% verse, 45% prose.

DATE: No external evidence to indicate when written or first performed; usually dated to early Jacobean years (1603—06) on stylistic grounds and because of similarity to Measure for Measure. Moments of anti-puritan satire do not help in determining a specific date.

SOURCES: Main plot derived from Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decameron (Italian, fourteenth century) by way of William Painter’s English translation, The Palace of Pleasure (1566); Countess and Lafew are Shakespeare’s invention, as is Parolles, who is in the tradition of the braggart soldier of classical comedy—a character type of which the greatest Elizabethan examples were Falstaff in Henry IV and Captain Bobadil in Ben Jonson’s Every Man in His Humour.

TEXT: First Folio of 1623 is only early printed text. Many features such as misassigned speeches, repeated speech headings, inconsistent naming, and probably misplaced lines suggest that the manuscript was not neatly prepared and that it caused confusion to the printers. Apparent authorial first thoughts suggest influence of Shakespeare’s working manuscript, while music cues suggest that of the theatrical promptbook. Of the many textual problems, the most frustrating concerns the two lords/brothers Dumaine: they have several different designations, variants on “1 Lord G.” and “2 Lord E.,” “French E.” and “French G.,” “Captain G.” and “Captain E.” The initials are sometimes supposed to refer to actors’ names. Shakespeare sometimes seems to forget whether “G.” is “1” and “E.” is “2” or vice versa. This means, for instance, that there is confusion over which brother leads the ambush of Parolles and which accompanies Bertram as he sets off to seduce Diana. We have adopted a solution that is dramatically consistent while requiring only minimal alteration of Folio’s speech ascriptions.

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

LIST OF PARTS

BERTRAM, Count of Rossillion

COUNTESS of Rossillion, his mother

HELEN (occasionally known as Helena), an orphan in the protection of the countess

REYNALDO, steward to the countess

LAVATCH, clown in the countess’ household

PAROLLES, a boastful follower of Bertram

KING of France

LAFEW, an old French lord

GENTLEMEN of the French court including an Astringer

Brothers who become captains in the Florentine army

FIRST LORD Dumaine

SECOND LORD Dumaine

FIRST SOLDIER, who plays role of interpreter

DUKE of Florence

WIDOW, Capilet of Florence

DIANA, her daughter

MARIANA, her friend

Lords, Attendants including a Page, Soldiers, people of Florence

Act 1 Scene 1

running scene 1

Enter young Bertram, [the] Count of Rossillion, his mother [the Countess], and Helena, Lord Lafew, all in black

COUNTESS    In delivering[1] my son from me, I bury a second

husband.

BERTRAM    And I in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s death

anew; but I must attend[4] his majesty’s command, to whom I

am now in ward, evermore in subjection.[5]

LAFEW    You shall find of the king a husband[6], madam, you,

sir, a father. He that so generally[7] is at all times good must of

necessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir[8]

it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such[9]

abundance.

COUNTESS    What hope is there of his majesty’s amendment?[11]

LAFEW    He hath abandoned his physicians, madam, under

whose practices he hath persecuted time[13] with hope, and

finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of

hope by time.

COUNTESS    This young gentlewoman had a father — O, that

‘had’! How sad a passage[17] ’tis! — whose skill was almost as

great as his honesty[18], had it stretched so far, would have made

nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of

work. Would[20] for the king’s sake he were living! I think it

would be the death of the king’s disease.

LAFEW    How called you the man you speak of, madam?

COUNTESS    He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his

great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.[24]

LAFEW    He was excellent indeed, madam. The king very

lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was

skilful enough to have lived still[27], if knowledge could be set up

against mortality.

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

LAFEW    A fistula[30], my lord.

BERTRAM    I heard not of it before.

LAFEW    I would it were not notorious.[32] Was this

gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

COUNTESS    His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my

overlooking. I have those hopes of her good[35] that her

education promises her dispositions[36] she inherits, which

makes fair gifts fairer. For where an unclean[37] mind carries

virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity[38], they

are virtues and traitors too. In her they are the better for

their simpleness; she derives[40] her honesty and achieves her

goodness.

LAFEW    Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

COUNTESS    ’Tis the best brine a maiden can season[43] her praise

in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her

heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood[45]

from her cheek. No more of this, Helena. Go to[46], no more, lest

it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have.[47]

HELEN    I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

LAFEW    Moderate lamentation is the right of[49] the dead,

excessive grief the enemy to the living.

COUNTESS    If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes[51]

it soon mortal.

BERTRAM    Madam, I desire your holy[53] wishes.

LAFEW    How understand we that?[54]

COUNTESS    Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father

In manners as in shape. Thy blood[56] and virtue

Contend for empire[57] in thee, and thy goodness

Share with thy birthright.[58] Love all, trust a few,

Do wrong to none. Be able[59] for thine enemy

Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend[60]

Under thy own life’s key. Be checked[61] for silence,

But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will[62],

That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck[63] down,

To Lafew

Fall on thy head! Farewell.— My lord,

’Tis an unseasoned[65] courtier. Good my lord,

Advise him.

LAFEW    He cannot want the best[67]

That shall attend his love.[68]

COUNTESS    Heaven bless him.— Farewell, Bertram.

[Exit]

To Helen

BERTRAM    The best wishes that can be forged[70] in your

thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable[71] to my mother,

your mistress, and make much of[72] her.

LAFEW    Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit[73] of

your father.

[Exeunt Bertram and Lafew]

HELEN    O, were that all! I think not on my father,

And these great tears grace his remembrance more[76]

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

I have forgot him. My imagination

Carries no favour[79] in’t but Bertram’s.

I am undone.[80] There is no living, none,

If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one[81]

That I should love a bright particular star

And think to wed it, he is so above me.

In his bright radiance and collateral[84] light

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere[85];

Th’ambition in my love thus plagues itself:

The hind[87] that would be mated by the lion

Must die for love. ’Twas pretty[88], though a plague,

To see him every hour, to sit and draw

His archèd brows, his hawking[90] eye, his curls

In our heart’s table — heart too capable[91]

Of every line and trick of his sweet favour[92]:

But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy[93]

Must sanctify his relics.[94] Who comes here?

Enter Parolles

Aside

One that goes with him: I love him for his[95] sake,

And yet I know him a notorious liar,

Think him a great way fool, solely[97] a coward.

Yet these fixed evils sit so fit[98] in him

That they take place when virtue’s steely[99] bones

Looks bleak i’th’cold wind. Withal, full oft[100] we see

Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous[101] folly.

PAROLLES    Save you, fair queen![102]

HELEN    And you, monarch!

PAROLLES    No.

HELEN    And no.

PAROLLES    Are you meditating on virginity?

HELEN    Ay. You have some stain[107] of soldier in you. Let me ask

you a question. Man is enemy to virginity: how may we

barricado[109] it against him?

PAROLLES    Keep[110] him out.

HELEN    But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant, in

the defence yet is weak. Unfold[112] to us some warlike resistance.

PAROLLES    There is none. Man setting down before you[113] will

undermine you and blow you up.[114]

HELEN    Bless[115] our poor virginity from underminers and

blowers up! Is there no military policy[116] how virgins might

blow up men?

PAROLLES    Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be[118]

blown up. Marry, in blowing him down[119] again, with the

breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic[120] in

the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of

virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got[122]

till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettle[123] to

make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times

found. By being ever kept, it is ever lost. ’Tis too cold[125] a

companion. Away with’t!

HELEN    I will stand for’t[127] a little, though therefore I die a

virgin.

PAROLLES    There’s little can be said in’t[129], ’tis against the rule of

nature. To speak on the part[130] of virginity is to accuse your

mothers, which is most infallible disobedience. He that[131]

hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself and should

be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit[133], as a

desperate offendress[134] against nature. Virginity breeds mites,

much like a cheese, consumes itself to the very paring[135], and

so dies with feeding his own stomach.[136] Besides, virginity is

peevish[137], proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most

inhibited sin in the canon.[138] Keep it not, you cannot choose

but lose by’t. Out with’t! Within ten year it will make itself[139]

two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal[140] itself not

much the worse. Away with’t!

HELEN    How[142] might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

PAROLLES    Let me see. Marry, ill, to like him that ne’er it[143] likes.

’Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying[144]: the longer

kept, the less worth. Off with’t while ’tis vendible. Answer[145]

the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her

cap out of fashion: richly suited but unsuitable[147], just like the

brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date[148] is

better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.[149] And

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

withered pears: it looks ill, it eats dryly.[151] Marry, ’tis a withered

pear: it was formerly better: marry, yet ’tis a withered pear.

Will you anything with it?

HELEN    Not my virginity yet —

There[155] shall your master have a thousand loves,

A mother[156] and a mistress and a friend,

A phoenix[157], 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[161],

His faith, his sweet disaster.[162] With a world

Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms[163]

That blinking Cupid gossips.[164] Now shall he —

I know not what he shall. God send him well![165]

The court’s a learning place, and he is one—

PAROLLES    What one, i’faith?

HELEN    That I wish well. ’Tis pity—

PAROLLES    What’s pity?

HELEN    That wishing well had not a body[170] in’t,

Which might be felt, that we, the poorer born,

Whose baser stars do shut us up in[172] wishes,

Might with effects of them[173] follow our friends,

And show what we alone must think[174], which never

Returns us thanks.[175]

Enter Page

PAGE    Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.

[Exit]

PAROLLES    Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will

think of thee at court.

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

PAROLLES    Under Mars, ay.[180]

HELEN    I especially think, under Mars.

PAROLLES    Why under Mars?

HELEN    The wars hath so kept you under[183] that you must

needs be born under Mars.

PAROLLES    When he was predominant.[185]

HELEN    When he was retrograde[186], I think rather.

PAROLLES    Why think you so?

HELEN    You go so much backward[188] when you fight.

PAROLLES    That’s for advantage.[189]

HELEN    So is running away, when fear proposes the safety.

But the composition[191] that your valour and fear makes in you

is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear[192] well.

PAROLLES    I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee

acutely. I will return perfect courtier in the which[194], my

instruction shall serve to naturalize[195] thee, so thou wilt

be capable of[196] a courtier’s counsel and understand what

advice shall thrust[197] upon thee. Else thou diest in thine

unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away.[198]

Farewell. When thou hast leisure[199], say thy prayers. When

thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a good

husband, and use[201] him as he uses thee. So, farewell.

[Exit]

HELEN    Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,

Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated[203] sky

Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull

Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.[205]

What power is it which mounts my love so high,

That makes me see, and cannot feed[207] mine eye?

The mightiest space in fortune[208] nature brings

To join like likes and kiss like native[209] things.

Impossible be strange attempts[210] to those

That weigh their pains in sense[211] and do suppose

What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove

To show her merit that did miss[213] her love?

The king’s disease — my project may deceive me,

But my intents are fixed and will not leave me.

Exit

[Act 1 Scene 2]

running scene 2

Flourish cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters, and divers Attendants

KING    The Florentines and Senoys are by th’ears[1],

Have fought with equal fortune and continue

A braving[3] war.

FIRST LORD    So ’tis reported, sir.

KING    Nay, ’tis most credible. We here receive it

A certainty, vouched from our cousin[6] Austria,

With caution that the Florentine will move[7] us

For speedy aid, wherein our dearest friend[8]

Prejudicates[9] the business and would seem

To have us make denial.[10]

FIRST LORD    His love and wisdom,

Approved[12] so to your majesty, may plead

For amplest credence.[13]

KING    He hath armed[14] our answer,

And Florence[15] is denied before he comes:

Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see[16]

The Tuscan service[17], freely have they leave

To stand on either part.[18]

SECOND LORD    It well may serve

A nursery to our gentry, who are sick[20]

For breathing and exploit.[21]

KING    What’s he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafew and Parolles

FIRST LORD    It is the Count Rossillion, my good lord,

Young Bertram.

To Bertram

KING    Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face.

Frank nature, rather curious than in haste[26],

Hath well composed thee. Thy father’s moral parts[27]

Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

BERTRAM    My thanks and duty are your majesty’s.

KING    I would I had that corporal soundness[30] now,

As when thy father and myself in friendship

First tried our soldiership. He did look far[32]

Into the service of the time and was[33]

Discipled of the bravest.[34] He lasted long,

But on us both did haggish[35] age steal on

And wore us out of act. It much repairs[36] me

To talk of your good father; in his youth

He had the wit which I can well observe

Today in our young lords. But they may jest

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted[40]

Ere they can hide their levity in honour.[41]

So like a courtier, contempt[42] nor bitterness

Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,

His equal had awaked[44] them, and his honour,

Clock to itself, knew the true[45] minute when

Exception[46] bid him speak, and at this time

His tongue obeyed his hand. Who[47] were below him

He used as creatures of another place[48]

And bowed his eminent top[49] to their low ranks,

Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled.[51] Such a man

Might be a copy[52] to these younger times;

Which, followed well, would demonstrate them now[53]

But goers backward.

BERTRAM    His good remembrance, sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb,

So in approof[57] lives not his epitaph

As in your royal speech.

KING    Would I were with him! He would always say —

Methinks I hear him now. His plausive[60] words

He scattered not in ears, but grafted[61] them,

To grow there and to bear[62] — ‘Let me not live’ —

This his good melancholy oft began

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime[64],

When it was out[65] — ‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,

‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff[66]

Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive[67] senses

All but new things disdain; whose judgements are

Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies[69]

Expire before their fashions.’ This he wished.

I, after him, do after him wish too[71],

Since I nor[72] wax nor honey can bring home,

I quickly were dissolvèd[73] from my hive

To give some labourers[74] room.

SECOND LORD    You’re loved, sir.

They that least lend it you shall lack[76] you first.

KING    I fill a place, I know’t. How long is’t, count,

Since the physician at your father’s died?

He was much famed.

BERTRAM    Some six months since, my lord.

KING    If he were living, I would try him yet.

Lend me an arm: the rest[82] have worn me out

With several applications.[83] Nature and sickness

Debate it[84] at their leisure. Welcome, count.

My son’s no dearer.

BERTRAM    Thank your majesty.

Exeunt. Flourish

[Act 1 Scene 3]

running scene 3

Enter Countess, Steward [Reynaldo] and Clown [Lavatch]

COUNTESS    I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?[1]

REYNALDO    Madam, the care I have had to even your content[2], I

wish might be found in the calendar[3] of my past endeavours,

for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness[4]

of our deservings[5], when of ourselves we publish them.

COUNTESS    What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah.[6]

The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe. ’Tis

my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to

commit them, and have ability enough to make such

knaveries yours.

LAVATCH    ’Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor[11] fellow.

COUNTESS    Well[12], sir.

LAVATCH    No, madam, ’tis not so well that I am poor, though

many of the rich are damned. But if I may have your

ladyship’s good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman[15] and

I will do[16] as we may.

COUNTESS    Wilt thou needs[17] be a beggar?

LAVATCH    I do beg your good will in this case.

COUNTESS    In what case?

LAVATCH    In Isbel’s case and mine own. Service is no heritage[20]:

and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have

issue o’my body, for they say bairns[22] are blessings.

COUNTESS    Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

LAVATCH    My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by

the flesh, and he must needs go[25] that the devil drives.

COUNTESS    Is this all your worship’s[26] reason?

LAVATCH    Faith, madam, I have other holy[27] reasons, such as

they are.

COUNTESS    May the world[29] know them?

LAVATCH    I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and

all flesh and blood are, and indeed I do marry that I may

repent.[32]

COUNTESS    Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

LAVATCH    I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have

friends for my wife’s sake.[35]

COUNTESS    Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

LAVATCH    You’re shallow, madam, in[37] great friends, for the

knaves come to do[38] that for me which I am aweary of. He that

ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in[39] the

crop. If I be his cuckold, he’s my drudge; he that comforts[40] my

wife is the cherisher[41] of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes

my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my

flesh and blood is my friend: ergo[43], he that kisses my wife is my

friend. If men could be contented to be what they are[44], there

were no fear in marriage, for young Charbon the Puritan[45]

and old Poysam the Papist, howsome’er[46] their hearts are

severed in religion, their heads are both one. They may jowl[47]

horns together, like any deer i’th’herd.

COUNTESS    Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious[49]

knave?

LAVATCH    A prophet I, madam, and I speak the truth the

next[52] way.

Sings

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find:

Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind.[56]

COUNTESS    Get you gone, sir. I’ll talk with you more anon.[57]

REYNALDO    May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come

to you: of her I am to speak.

To Lavatch

COUNTESS    Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would

speak with her — Helen, I mean.

Sings

LAVATCH    ‘Was this fair face the cause,’ quoth she[62],

‘Why the Grecians sackèd Troy?[63]

Fond[64] done, done fond,

Was this King Priam’s[65] joy?’

With that she sighèd as she stood,

With that she sighèd as she stood,

And gave this sentence[68] then:

‘Among[69] nine bad if one be good,

Among nine bad if one be good,

There’s yet one good in ten.’

COUNTESS    What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song[72],

sirrah.

LAVATCH    One good woman in ten, madam; which is a

purifying o’th’song. Would God would serve the world[75] so all

the year! We’d find no fault with the tithe-woman[76], if I were

the parson. One in ten, quoth a? An[77] we might have a good

woman born but ere every blazing star[78], or at an earthquake,

’twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw[79] his heart

out ere a pluck one.[80]

COUNTESS    You’ll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you?

LAVATCH    That[82] man should be at woman’s command, and yet

no hurt done! Though honesty[83] be no puritan, yet it will do

no hurt. It will wear the surplice of humility over the black[84]

gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth.[85] The business is for

Helen to come hither.

Exit

COUNTESS    Well, now.

REYNALDO    I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

COUNTESS    Faith, I do. Her father bequeathed[89] her to me, and

she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make[90]

title to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her

than is paid and more shall be paid her than she’ll demand.

REYNALDO    Madam, I was very late[93] more near her than I think

she wished me. Alone she was, and did communicate to

herself her own words to her own ears. She thought, I dare

vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter[96]

was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess,

that had put such difference betwixt their two estates.[98] Love

no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities[99]

were level. Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer[100] her

poor knight surprised[101] without rescue in the first assault or

ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch[102]

of sorrow that e’er I heard virgin exclaim in, which I held my

duty speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence, in the loss[104]

that may happen, it concerns you something[105] to know it.

COUNTESS    You have discharged[106] this honestly. Keep it to

yourself. Many likelihoods[107] informed me of this before, which

hung so tott’ring in the balance that I could neither believe

nor misdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall[109] this in your bosom,

and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you

further anon.

Exit Steward [Reynaldo]

Enter Helen

Aside

Even so it was with me when I was young.

If ever we are nature’s, these[113] are ours. This thorn

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong.

Our blood[115] to us, this to our blood is born:

It is the show and seal[116] of nature’s truth,

Where love’s strong passion is impressed[117] in youth.

By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults, or[119] then we thought them none.

Her eye is sick on’t. I observe[120] her now.

HELEN    What is your pleasure, madam?

COUNTESS    You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.

HELEN    Mine honourable mistress.

COUNTESS    Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother’,

Methought[125] you saw a serpent. What’s in ‘mother’

That you start[126] at it? I say I am your mother,

And put you in the catalogue of those

That were enwombèd mine.[128] ’Tis often seen

Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds[129]

A native slip to us from foreign seeds.

You ne’er oppressed me with a mother’s groan[131],

Yet I express to you a mother’s care.

God’s mercy, maiden! Does it curd[133] thy blood

To say I am thy mother? What’s the matter,

That this distempered[135] messenger of wet,

The many-coloured Iris, rounds[136] thine eye?

— Why? That you are my daughter?

HELEN    That I am not.[138]

COUNTESS    I say I am your mother.

HELEN    Pardon, madam.

The Count Rossillion cannot be my brother:

I am from humble, he from honoured name,

No note upon my parents[143], his all noble.

My master, my dear lord he is, and I

His servant live, and will his vassal[145] die.

He must not be my brother.

COUNTESS    Nor I your mother.

HELEN    You are my mother, madam, would you were —

So[149] that my lord your son were not my brother —

Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers[150],

I care no more for than[151] I do for heaven,

So I were not his sister. Can’t no other[152]

But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?

COUNTESS    Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law.

God shield[155] you mean it not! Daughter and mother

So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again?

My fear hath catched your fondness.[157] Now I see

The mystery of your loveliness[158], and find

Your salt tears’ head. Now to all sense ’tis gross[159]:

You love my son. Invention[160] is ashamed

Against[161] the proclamation of thy passion

To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true.

But tell me then ’tis so, for look, thy cheeks

Confess it, t’one to th’other, and thine eyes

See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours

That in their kind[166] they speak it. Only sin

And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,

That truth should be suspected.[168] Speak, is’t so?

If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew.[169]

If it be not, forswear’t: howe’er, I charge[170] thee,

As heaven shall work in me for thine avail[171],

To tell me truly.

HELEN    Good madam, pardon me.

COUNTESS    Do you love my son?

HELEN    Your pardon, noble mistress.

COUNTESS    Love you my son?

HELEN    Do not you love him, madam?

COUNTESS    Go not about; my love hath in’t a bond[178]

Whereof the world takes note.[179] Come, come, disclose

The state of your affection, for your passions

Have to the full appeached.[181]

HELEN    Then I confess,

↑Kneels↑

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,

That before[184] you, and next unto high heaven,

I love your son.

My friends[186] were poor but honest, so’s my love.

Be not offended, for it hurts not him

That he is loved of me; I follow him not

By any token of presumptuous suit[189],

Nor would I have him till I do deserve him,

Yet never know how that desert should be.

I know I love in vain, strive against hope.

Yet in this captious and intenible[193] sieve

I still[194] pour in the waters of my love

And lack not to lose still[195]; thus, Indian-like,

Religious[196] in mine error, I adore

The sun that looks upon his worshipper

But knows of him no more.[198] My dearest madam,

Let not your hate encounter with[199] my love,

For loving where you do; but if yourself,

Whose agèd honour cites[201] a virtuous youth,

Did ever in so true a flame of liking

Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian

Was both herself[204] and love — O, then, give pity

To her whose state is such that cannot choose

But lend and give where she is sure to lose[206];

That seeks not to find that her search implies[207],

But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies.[208]

COUNTESS    Had you not lately an intent — speak truly —

To go to Paris?

HELEN    Madam, I had.

COUNTESS    Wherefore?[212] Tell true.

HELEN    I will tell truth, by grace[213] itself I swear.

You know my father left me some prescriptions[214]

Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading

And manifest[216] experience had collected

For general sovereignty[217], and that he willed me

In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them[218],

As notes whose faculties inclusive[219] were

More than they were in note.[220] Amongst the rest,

There is a remedy, approved[221], set down,

To cure the desp’rate[222] languishings whereof

The king is rendered lost.[223]

COUNTESS    This was your motive for Paris, was it? Speak.

HELEN    My lord your son made me to think of this;

Else Paris and the medicine and the king

Had from the conversation[227] of my thoughts

Haply[228] been absent then.

COUNTESS    But think you, Helen,

If you should tender[230] your supposèd aid,

He would receive it? He and his physicians

Are of a mind.[232] He, that they cannot help him,

They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit[233]

A poor unlearnèd virgin, when the schools[234],

Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off[235]

The danger to itself?

HELEN    There’s something in’t

More than my father’s skill, which was the great’st

Of his profession, that his good receipt[239]

Shall for my legacy be sanctified[240]

By th’luckiest stars in heaven, and would your honour

But give me leave to try success, I’d venture[242]

The well-lost[243] life of mine on his grace’s cure

By such a[244] day and hour.

COUNTESS    Dost thou believe’t?

HELEN    Ay, madam, knowingly.[246]

COUNTESS    Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave[247] and love,

Means and attendants and my loving greetings

To those of mine in court. I’ll stay at home

And pray God’s blessing into[250] thy attempt.

Be gone tomorrow. And be sure of this:

What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.[252]

Exeunt

Act 2 [Scene 1]

running scene 4

Enter the King [carried in a chair] with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war, Count Rossillion [Bertram] and Parolles. Flourish cornets

KING    Farewell, young lords. These warlike principles[1]

Do not throw from you.[2] And you, my lords, farewell.

Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain, all

The gift[4] doth stretch itself as ’tis received,

And is enough for both.

FIRST LORD    ’Tis our hope, sir,

After well-entered[7] soldiers, to return

And find your grace in health.

KING    No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart

Will not confess he owes[10] the malady

That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords.

Whether I live or die, be you the sons

Of worthy Frenchmen. Let higher Italy[13] —

Those bated that inherit but the fall[14]

Of the last monarchy — see that you come

Not to woo honour, but to wed[16] it, when

The bravest questant shrinks.[17] Find what you seek,

That fame may cry[18] you loud. I say, farewell.

SECOND LORD    Health at your bidding serve your majesty!

KING    Those girls of Italy, take heed of them:

They say our French lack language to deny[21]

If they demand. Beware of being captives[22]

Before you serve.[23]

BOTH    Our hearts receive your warnings.

King steps aside with some lords

KING    Farewell.— Come hither to me.

To Bertram

FIRST LORD    O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

PAROLLES    ’Tis not his fault, the spark.[27]

SECOND LORD    O, ’tis brave[28] wars!

PAROLLES    Most admirable. I have seen those wars.

BERTRAM    I am commanded here, and kept a coil[30] with

‘Too young’ and ‘the next year’ and ‘’tis too early’.

PAROLLES    An thy mind stand to’t, boy, steal away bravely.[32]

BERTRAM    I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock[33],

Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry[34],

Till honour be bought up[35] and no sword worn

But one to dance with. By heaven, I’ll steal[36] away.

FIRST LORD    There’s honour in the theft.

PAROLLES    Commit it, count.

SECOND LORD    I am your accessary, and so farewell.

BERTRAM    I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.[40]

FIRST LORD    Farewell, captain.

SECOND LORD    Sweet Monsieur Parolles!

PAROLLES    Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good

sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals.[44] You shall find in

the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio[45], with his

cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister[46] cheek; it was

this very sword entrenched[47] it. Say to him I live, and observe

his reports[48] for me.

FIRST LORD    We shall, noble captain.

PAROLLES    Mars dote on you for his novices![50]—

[Exeunt Lords]

To Bertram

What will ye do?

Bertram and Parolles stand aside

BERTRAM    Stay[52] the king.

To Bertram

PAROLLES    Use a more spacious ceremony[53] to the

noble lords. You have restrained yourself within the list[54] of

too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them, for they wear[55]

themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true[56]

gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most

received star. And though the devil lead the measure[58], such

are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated[59]

farewell.

BERTRAM    And I will do so.

The King comes forward

PAROLLES    Worthy fellows, and like[62] to prove

most sinewy[63] sword-men.

Exeunt [Bertram and Parolles]

Enter Lafew

Kneels

LAFEW    Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.[64]

KING    I’ll fee[65] thee to stand up.

Rises

LAFEW    Then here’s a man stands that has brought his pardon.[66]

I would you had kneeled, my lord, to ask me mercy,

And that at my bidding you could so stand up.

KING    I would I had, so I had broke thy pate[69],

And asked thee mercy for’t.

LAFEW    Good faith, across.[71] But, my good lord, ’tis thus:

Will you be cured of your infirmity?

KING    No.

LAFEW    O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox?[74]

Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if[75]

My royal fox could reach them. I have seen a medicine[76]

That’s able to breathe life into a stone,

Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary[78]

With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple[79] touch,

Is powerful to araise King Pippin[80], nay,

To give great Charlemain a pen[81] in’s hand

And write to her a love-line.

KING    What ‘her’ is this?

LAFEW    Why, Doctor She: my lord, there’s one arrived,

If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour,

If seriously I may convey my thoughts

In this my light deliverance[87], I have spoke

With one that, in her sex, her years, profession[88],

Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more

Than I dare blame my weakness.[90] Will you see her,

For that is her demand, and know her business?

That done, laugh well at me.

KING    Now, good Lafew,

Bring in the admiration[94] that we with thee

May spend our wonder too, or take off[95] thine

By wondering how thou took’st[96] it.

LAFEW    Nay, I’ll fit[97] you,

And not be all day neither.

Lafew goes to the door or exits and re-enters

KING    Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.[99]

Enter Helen

To Helen

LAFEW    Nay, come your ways.[100]

KING    This haste hath wings indeed.

LAFEW    Nay, come your ways.

This is his majesty, say your mind to him.

A traitor you do look like, but such traitors

His majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid’s uncle[105],

That dare leave two together. Fare you well.

Exit

KING    Now, fair one, does your business follow[107] us?

HELEN    Ay, my good lord.

Gerard de Narbon was my father,

In what he did profess, well found.[110]

KING    I knew him.

HELEN    The rather will I spare my praises towards him.

Knowing him is enough. On’s bed of death

Many receipts[114] he gave me, chiefly one

Which, as the dearest issue[115] of his practice,

And of his old experience th’only[116] darling,

He bade me store up, as a triple[117] eye,

Safer[118] than mine own two. More dear I have so,

And hearing your high majesty is touched

With that malignant cause wherein the honour[120]

Of my dear father’s gift stands chief in power,

I come to tender it and my appliance[122]

With all bound[123] humbleness.

KING    We thank you, maiden,

But may not be so credulous[125] of cure,

When our most learnèd doctors leave us, and

The congregated college[127] have concluded

That labouring art[128] can never ransom nature

From her inaidible[129] estate. I say we must not

So stain our judgement, or corrupt our hope,

To prostitute[131] our past-cure malady

To empirics, or to dissever[132] so

Our great self and our credit, to esteem[133]

A senseless help when help past sense we deem.[134]

HELEN    My duty then shall pay me for my pains[135]:

I will no more enforce mine office[136] on you,

Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts

A modest one to bear me back again.[138]

KING    I cannot give thee less, to[139] be called grateful.

Thou thought’st to help me, and such thanks I give

As one near death to those that wish him live.

But what at full I know, thou know’st no part[142],

I knowing all my peril, thou no art.[143]

HELEN    What I can do can do no hurt to try,

Since you set up your rest[145] gainst remedy.

He[146] that of greatest works is finisher

Oft does them by the weakest minister:

So holy writ in babes[148] hath judgement shown,

When judges have been babes; great floods have flown[149]

From simple sources, and great seas have dried[150]

When miracles have by the great’st[151] been denied.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there

Where most it promises, and oft it hits[153]

Where hope is coldest and despair most shifts.[154]

KING    I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid.

Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid[156]:

Proffers not took reap thanks for[157] their reward.

HELEN    Inspirèd merit so by breath[158] is barred.

It is not so with him that all things knows

As ’tis with us that square our guess by shows.[160]

But most it is presumption in us when

The help of heaven we count[162] the act of men.

Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent.

Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.[164]

I am not an impostor that proclaim[165]

Myself against the level of mine aim,

But know I think, and think I know most sure,

My art is not past power, nor you past cure.

KING    Art thou so confident? Within what space[169]

Hop’st thou my cure?

HELEN    The greatest[171] grace lending grace

Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring

Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring[173],

Ere twice in murk and occidental[174] damp

Moist Hesperus[175] hath quenched her sleepy lamp,

Or four and twenty times the pilot’s glass[176]

Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass,

What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly,

Health shall live free and sickness freely die.

KING    Upon thy certainty and confidence

What dar’st thou venture?[181]

HELEN    Tax[182] of impudence,

A strumpet’s[183] boldness, a divulgèd shame

Traduced[184] by odious ballads: my maiden’s name

Seared otherwise, nay, worse of worst, extended[185]

With vilest torture, let my life be ended.

KING    Methinks in thee some blessèd spirit doth speak

His powerful sound within an organ weak:

And what impossibility would slay[189]

In common sense[190], sense saves another way.

Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate[191]

Worth name of life in thee hath estimate[192]:

Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all

That happiness and prime[194] can happy call.

Thou this to hazard needs[195] must intimate

Skill infinite or monstrous desperate.[196]

Sweet practicer, thy physic[197] I will try,

That ministers[198] thine own death if I die.

HELEN    If I break time, or flinch in property[199]

Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die,

And well deserved. Not[201] helping, death’s my fee.

But if I help, what do you promise me?

KING    Make thy demand.

HELEN    But will you make it even?[204]

KING    Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.

HELEN    Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand

What[207] husband in thy power I will command:

Exempted[208] be from me the arrogance

To choose from forth the royal blood of France,

My low and humble name to propagate

With any branch or image of thy state.

But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know

Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

KING    Here is my hand. The premises observed[214],

Thy will by my performance[215] shall be served.

So make the choice of[216] thy own time, for I,

Thy resolved patient, on thee still[217] rely.

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.[220] But rest

Unquestioned[221] welcome and undoubted blest.—

Give me some help here, ho!— If thou proceed

As high as word[223], my deed shall match thy deed.

Flourish. Exeunt [the King is carried out]

[Act 2 Scene 2]

running scene 5

Enter Countess and Clown [Lavatch]

COUNTESS    Come on, sir, I shall now put you to the height[1] of

your breeding.[2]

LAVATCH    I will show myself highly fed and lowly[3] taught. I

know my business is but to the court.

COUNTESS    To the court! Why, what place make you[5] special,

when you put off[6] that with such contempt? But to the court!

LAVATCH    Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any

manners, he may easily put[8] it off at court: he that cannot

make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand and say nothing, has

neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to

say precisely, were not for the court. But for me, I have an

answer[12] will serve all men.

COUNTESS    Marry, that’s a bountiful answer that fits all

questions.

LAVATCH    It is like a barber’s chair that fits all buttocks: the

pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn[16]-buttock, or any

buttock.

COUNTESS    Will your answer serve fit[18] to all questions?

LAVATCH    As fit as ten groats[19] is for the hand of an attorney, as

your French crown for your taffety punk, as Tib’s rush[20] for

Tom’s forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris[21]

for May Day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn[22],

as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave[23], as the nun’s lip to

the friar’s mouth, nay, as the pudding to his[24] skin.

COUNTESS    Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all

questions?

LAVATCH    From below your duke to beneath your constable, it

will fit any question.

COUNTESS    It must be an answer of most monstrous size that

must fit all demands.

LAVATCH    But a trifle neither[31], in good faith, if the learned

should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to’t.

Ask me if I am a courtier, it shall do you no harm to learn.

COUNTESS    To be young again, if we could. I will be a fool in[34]

question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you,

sir, are you a courtier?

LAVATCH    O lord, sir! There’s a simple putting off.[37] More, more,

a hundred of them.

COUNTESS    Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you.

LAVATCH    O lord, sir! Thick[40], thick, spare not me.

COUNTESS    I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.[41]

LAVATCH    O lord, sir! Nay, put me to’t, I warrant you.

COUNTESS    You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.

LAVATCH    O lord, sir! Spare not me.

COUNTESS    Do you cry, ‘O lord, sir!’ at your whipping, and

‘Spare not me’? Indeed your ‘O lord, sir!’ is very sequent[46] to

your whipping: you would answer[47] very well to a whipping, if

you were but bound to’t.[48]

LAVATCH    I ne’er had worse luck in my life in my ‘O lord, sir!’ I

see things may serve long, but not serve ever.

COUNTESS    I play the noble[51] housewife with the time

To entertain it so merrily with a fool.

LAVATCH    O lord, sir! Why, there’t serves well again.

COUNTESS    An end, sir. To your business. Give Helen this,

Gives a letter

And urge her to a present answer back. Commend[55]

me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much.

LAVATCH    Not much commendation to them.

COUNTESS    Not much employment for you. You understand me?

LAVATCH    Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs.[59]

COUNTESS    Haste you again.[60]

Exeunt [separately]

[Act 2 Scene 3]

running scene 6

Enter Count [Bertram], Lafew and Parolles

LAFEW    They say miracles are past, and we have our

philosophical persons to make modern and familiar, things[2]

supernatural and causeless.[3] Hence is it that we make trifles

of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into[4] seeming knowledge

when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.[5]

PAROLLES    Why, ’tis the rarest argument[5] of wonder that hath

shot out in our latter[7] times.

BERTRAM    And so ’tis.

LAFEW    To be relinquished of the artists[9]—

PAROLLES    So I say, both of Galen and Paracelsus.[10]

LAFEW    Of all the learnèd and authentic fellows[11]—

PAROLLES    Right, so I say.

LAFEW    That gave him out[13] incurable—

PAROLLES    Why, there ’tis. So say I too.

LAFEW    Not to be helped —

PAROLLES    Right. As ’twere a man assured of a—

LAFEW    Uncertain life and sure death.

PAROLLES    Just[18], you say well. So would I have said.

LAFEW    I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.

PAROLLES    It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing[20], you shall

read it in— what-do-ye-call there?

Points to the ballad Lafew holds

Reads

LAFEW    ‘A showing of a heavenly effect in an

earthly actor.’

PAROLLES    That’s it. I would have said the very same.

LAFEW    Why, your dolphin is not lustier. ’Fore me[25], I speak in

respect—

PAROLLES    Nay, ’tis strange, ’tis very strange. That is the brief[27]

and the tedious of it, and he’s of a most facinerious[28] spirit

that will not acknowledge it to be the—

LAFEW    Very hand of heaven.

PAROLLES    Ay, so I say.

LAFEW    In a most weak—

PAROLLES    And debile minister[33], great power, great transcendence,

which should indeed give us a further use to be made

than alone the recovery of the king, as to be—

LAFEW    Generally[36] thankful.

Enter King, Helen and Attendants

PAROLLES    I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the

king.

Lafew and Parolles stand aside

LAFEW    Lustigue, as the Dutchman[39] says. I’ll like a maid the

better whilst I have a tooth[40] in my head. Why, he’s able to lead

her a coranto.[41]

PAROLLES    Mor du vinager![42] Is not this Helen?

LAFEW    ’Fore God, I think so.

KING    Go, call before me all the lords in court.

[Exit Attendant]

Sit, my preserver, by thy patient’s side,

Helen sits

And with this healthful hand, whose banished sense[46]

Thou hast repealed[47], a second time receive

The confirmation of my promised gift,

Which but attends[49] thy naming.

Enter three or four Lords

Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel[50]

Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing[51],

O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s voice

I have to use. Thy frank election[53] make.

Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.[54]

HELEN    To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress

Fall, when love please! Marry, to each, but one!

LAFEW    I’d give bay curtal and his furniture[57]

My mouth no more were broken than these boys’[58],

And writ[59] as little beard.

KING    Peruse them well:

Not one of those but had a noble father.

HELEN    Gentlemen, heaven hath through me restored the

king to health.

She addresses her to a Lord

ALL    We understand it, and thank heaven for you.

HELEN    I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest

That I protest[66] I simply am a maid.

Please it your majesty, I have done already.

The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper[68] me,

‘We blush that thou shouldst choose. But be refused,

Let the white death[70] sit on thy cheek for ever,

We’ll ne’er come there again.’

KING    Make choice and see,

Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.[73]

HELEN    Now, Dian[74], from thy altar do I fly,

And to imperial Love[75], that god most high,

To First Lord

Do my sighs stream.— Sir, will you hear my suit?

FIRST LORD    And grant it.

HELEN    Thanks, sir. All[78] the rest is mute.

Aside

LAFEW    I had rather be in this choice than throw

ames-ace for my life.[80]

To Second Lord

HELEN    The honour[81], sir, that flames in your fair eyes

Before I speak, too threat’ningly replies.

Love[83] make your fortunes twenty times above

Her that so wishes[84], and her humble love.

SECOND LORD    No better[85], if you please.

HELEN    My wish receive,

Which great love grant! And so I take my leave.

Aside

LAFEW    Do all they deny her? An they were sons

of mine, I’d have them whipped, or I would send them to

th’Turk[90] to make eunuchs of.

To Third Lord

HELEN    Be not afraid that I your hand should take.

I’ll never do you wrong for your own sake.

Blessing upon your vows, and in your bed

Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Aside

LAFEW    These boys are boys of ice, they’ll none have

her. Sure[96] they are bastards to the English, the French ne’er

got[97] ’em.

To Fourth Lord

HELEN    You are too young, too happy[98], and too good,

To make yourself a son out of my blood.

FOURTH LORD    Fair one, I think not so.

Aside

LAFEW    There’s one grape[101] yet. I am sure thy father

drunk wine.[102] But if thou be’st not an ass, I am a youth of

fourteen. I have known[103] thee already.

To Bertram

HELEN    I dare not say I take you, but I give

Me and my service, ever whilst I live,

Into your guiding power. This is the man.

KING    Why, then, young Bertram, take her: she’s thy wife.

BERTRAM    My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness,

In such a business give me leave to use

The help of mine own eyes.

KING    Know’st thou not, Bertram, what she has done for me?

BERTRAM    Yes, my good lord,

But never hope to know why I should marry her.

KING    Thou know’st she has raised me from my sickly bed.

BERTRAM    But follows it, my lord, to bring me down[115]

Must answer for your raising? I know her well:

She had her breeding at my father’s charge.[117]

A poor physician’s daughter my wife? Disdain

Rather corrupt me ever![119]

KING    ’Tis only title[120] thou disdain’st in her, the which

I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,

Of colour, weight and heat, poured all together,

Would quite confound distinction, yet stands off[123]

In differences so mighty. If she be

All that is virtuous, save what thou dislik’st,

A poor physician’s daughter, thou dislik’st

Of virtue for the name. But do not so.

From lowest place whence virtuous things proceed[128],

The place is dignified by th’doer’s deed.

Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none[130],

It is a dropsied[131] honour. Good alone

Is good without a name. Vileness is so:

The property by what it is should go[133],

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair.

In these to nature she’s immediate heir[135],

And these breed honour. That is honour’s scorn[136],

Which challenges itself as honour’s born

And is not like the sire. Honours thrive,

When rather from our acts we them derive

Than our foregoers.[140] The mere word’s a slave,

Deboshed[141] on every tomb, on every grave

A lying trophy[142], and as oft is dumb,

Where dust and damned oblivion is the tomb

Of honoured bones indeed.[144] What should be said?

If thou canst like this creature as a maid,

I can create the rest: virtue and she

Is her own dower[147], honour and wealth from me.

BERTRAM    I cannot love her, nor will strive[148] to do’t.

KING    Thou wrong’st thyself if thou shouldst strive to choose.[149]

HELEN    That you are well restored[150], my lord, I’m glad.

Let the rest go.

KING    My honour’s at the stake, which[152] to defeat,

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

Proud scornful boy, unworthy this[154] good gift,

That dost in vile misprision[155] shackle up

My love and her desert. That[156] canst not dream,

We, poising us in her defective[157] scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam.[158] That wilt not know,

It is in us[159] to plant thine honour where

We please to have it grow. Check[160] thy contempt:

Obey our will, which travails in[161] thy good.

Believe not thy disdain, but presently[162]

Do thine own fortunes that obedient right

Which both thy duty owes and our power claims,

Or I will throw thee from my care forever

Into the staggers and the careless lapse[166]

Of youth and ignorance, both my revenge and hate

Loosing[168] upon thee, in the name of justice,

Without all terms[169] of pity. Speak. Thine answer.

BERTRAM    Pardon, my gracious lord, for I submit

My fancy[171] to your eyes. When I consider

What great creation and what dole[172] of honour

Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late[173]

Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now

The praisèd of the king, who[175], so ennobled,

Is as ’twere born so.

KING    Take her by the hand,

And tell her she is thine, to whom I promise

A counterpoise, if not[179] to thy estate,

A balance more replete.[180]

BERTRAM    I take her hand.

KING    Good fortune and the favour of the king

Smile upon this contract, whose ceremony[183]

Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief,

And be performed tonight. The solemn feast

Shall more attend upon the coming space[186],

Expecting absent friends. As[187] thou lov’st her,

Thy love’s to me religious, else, does err.[188]

Exeunt. Parolles and Lafew stay behind commenting of this wedding

LAFEW    Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you.

PAROLLES    Your pleasure, sir.

LAFEW    Your lord and master did well to make his

recantation.

PAROLLES    Recantation? My lord? My master?

LAFEW    Ay. Is it not a language I speak?

PAROLLES    A most harsh one, and not to be understood

without bloody succeeding.[196] My master?

LAFEW    Are you companion[197] to the Count Rossillion?

PAROLLES    To any count, to all counts, to what is man.[198]

LAFEW    To what is count’s man. Count’s master is of

another style.

PAROLLES    You are too old, sir. Let it satisfy[201] you, you are too old.

LAFEW    I must tell thee, sirrah, I write[202] man, to which title

age cannot bring thee.

PAROLLES    What I dare too well do, I dare not do.[204]

LAFEW    I did think thee, for two ordinaries[205], to be a pretty

wise fellow. Thou didst make tolerable vent[206] of thy travel, it

might pass. Yet the scarfs and the bannerets[207] about thee did

manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel[208] of too

great a burden. I have now found thee.[209] When I lose thee

again, I care not. Yet art thou good for nothing but taking up[210],

and that thou’rt scarce worth.

PAROLLES    Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity[212] upon

thee—

LAFEW    Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou

hasten thy trial, which if— lord have mercy on thee for a hen![215]

So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well. Thy casement[216] I

need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

PAROLLES    My lord, you give me most egregious[218] indignity.

LAFEW    Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it.

PAROLLES    I have not, my lord, deserved it.

LAFEW    Yes, good faith, every dram of it, and I will not bate[221]

thee a scruple.[222]

PAROLLES    Well, I shall be wiser.[223]

LAFEW    Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a[224]

smack o’th’contrary. If ever thou be’st bound in thy scarf

and beaten, thou shall find what it is to be proud of thy

bondage. I have a desire to hold[227] my acquaintance with thee,

or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default[228], he is a

man I know.[229]

PAROLLES    My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.

LAFEW    I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor[231]

doing eternal. For doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what[232]

motion age will give me leave.

Exit

PAROLLES    Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me[234];

scurvy[235], old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient. There

is no fettering[236] of authority. I’ll beat him, by my life, if I can

meet him with any convenience, an[237] he were double and

double a lord. I’ll have no more pity of his age than I would

have of— I’ll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

Enter Lafew

LAFEW    Sirrah, your lord and master’s married. There’s

news for you: you have a new mistress.

PAROLLES    I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make

some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord. Whom[243]

I serve above is my master.

LAFEW    Who? God?

PAROLLES    Ay, sir.

LAFEW    The devil it is that’s thy master. Why dost thou

garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? Dost make hose[248] of thy

sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower[249]

part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but

two hours younger, I’d beat thee. Methink’st thou art a

general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think

thou wast created for men to breathe[253] themselves upon thee.

PAROLLES    This is hard and undeserved measure[254], my lord.

LAFEW    Go to, sir. You were beaten in Italy for picking a[255]

kernel out of a pomegranate. You are a vagabond[256] and no

true traveller. You are more saucy[257] with lords and honourable

personages than the commission[258] of your birth and virtue

gives you heraldry.[259] You are not worth another word, else I’d

call you knave. I leave you.

Exit

PAROLLES    Good, very good, it is so then. Good, very good, let it

be concealed awhile.

Enter Count Rossillion [Bertram]

BERTRAM    Undone, and forfeited to cares[263] forever!

PAROLLES    What’s the matter, sweet heart?

BERTRAM    Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,

I will not bed her.

PAROLLES    What, what, sweetheart?

BERTRAM    O my Parolles, they have married me!

I’ll to the Tuscan wars and never bed her.

PAROLLES    France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits

The tread of a man’s foot: to th’wars!

BERTRAM    There’s letters from my mother. What th’import[272] is,

I know not yet.

PAROLLES    Ay, that would be known. To th’wars, my boy, to th’wars!

He wears his honour in a box[275] unseen

That hugs his kicky-wicky[276] here at home,

Spending his manly marrow[277] in her arms,

Which should sustain the bound and high curvet[278]

Of Mars’ fiery steed. To other regions,

France is a stable, we that dwell in’t jades[280]:

Therefore, to th’war!

BERTRAM    It shall be so. I’ll send her to my house,

Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,

And wherefore I am fled, write to the king

That which I durst not speak. His present gift

Shall furnish me to those Italian fields[286]

Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife

To the dark house[288] and the detested wife.

PAROLLES    Will this capriccio hold in thee? Art[289] sure?

BERTRAM    Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.

I’ll send her straight[291] away. Tomorrow

I’ll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

PAROLLES    Why, these balls bound[293], there’s noise in it. ’Tis hard.

A young man married is a man that’s marred[294]:

Therefore away, and leave her bravely, go.

The king has done you wrong, but hush, ’tis so.

Exeunt

[Act 2 Scene 4]

running scene 6 continues

Enter Helena and Clown [Lavatch]

Helen reading a letter

HELEN    My mother greets me kindly.[1] Is she well?

LAVATCH    She is not well[2], but yet she has her health: she’s very

merry, but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she’s very

well and wants[4] nothing i’th’world; but yet she is not well.

HELEN    If she be very well, what does she ail, that she’s not very well?

LAVATCH    Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for two things.

HELEN    What two things?

LAVATCH    One, that she’s not in heaven, whither God send her

quickly. The other, that she’s in earth, from whence God send

her quickly.

Enter Parolles

PAROLLES    Bless you, my fortunate lady.

HELEN    I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own

good fortune.

PAROLLES    You had my prayers to lead them[14] on, and to keep

them[15] on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

LAVATCH    So[16] that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I

would she did[17] as you say.

PAROLLES    Why, I say nothing.

LAVATCH    Marry, you are the wiser man, for many a man’s[19]

tongue shakes out[20] his master’s undoing: to say nothing, to

do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a

great part of your title[22], which is within a very little of

nothing.

PAROLLES    Away! Thou’rt a knave.

LAVATCH    You should have said, sir, ‘Before[25] a knave thou’rt a

knave.’ That’s, ‘Before me[26] thou’rt a knave.’ This had been

truth, sir.

PAROLLES    Go to, thou art a witty fool. I have found thee.[28]

LAVATCH    Did you find me[29] in yourself, sir? Or were you taught

to find me? The search, sir, was profitable. And much fool

may you find in you, even to[31] the world’s pleasure and the

increase of laughter.

PAROLLES    A good knave, i’faith, and well fed.[33]—

Madam, my lord will go away tonight.

A very serious business calls on him.

The great prerogative and rite of love[36],

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge,

But puts it off to[38] a compelled restraint,

Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with sweets[39],

Which they distil now in the curbèd[40] time,

To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy

And pleasure drown[42] the brim.

HELEN    What’s his will else?[43]

PAROLLES    That you will take your instant leave o’th’king

And make this haste as your own good proceeding[45],

Strength’ned with what apology[46] you think

May make it probable need.[47]

HELEN    What more commands he?

PAROLLES    That, having this obtained, you presently

Attend his further pleasure.[50]

HELEN    In everything I wait upon his will.

PAROLLES    I shall report it so.

Exit

To Parolles/To Lavatch

HELEN    I pray you.— Come, sirrah.

Exeunt

[Act 2 Scene 5]

running scene 6 continues

Enter Lafew and Bertram

LAFEW    But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

BERTRAM    Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.

LAFEW    You have it from his own deliverance.[3]

BERTRAM    And by other warranted testimony.

LAFEW    Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a[5]

bunting.

BERTRAM    I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in

knowledge and accordingly[8] valiant.

LAFEW    I have then sinned against his experience and

transgressed against his valour, and my state[10] that way is

dangerous, since I cannot yet find[11] in my heart to repent.

Here he comes. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the

amity.

Enter Parolles

To Bertram

PAROLLES    These things shall be done, sir.

To Bertram

LAFEW    Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor?[15]

PAROLLES    Sir?

LAFEW    O, I know him well. Ay, ‘sir’, he. ‘Sir’ ’s a good

workman, a very good tailor.

Aside to Parolles

BERTRAM    Is she gone to the king?

PAROLLES    She is.

BERTRAM    Will she away tonight?

PAROLLES    As you’ll have[22] her.

BERTRAM    I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,

Given order for our horses, and tonight,

When I should take possession of the bride,

End ere I do begin.

Aside

LAFEW    A good traveller is something[27] at the latter

end of a dinner, but one that lies three thirds[28] and uses a

known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be

once heard and thrice beaten.— God save you, captain.

To Parolles

BERTRAM    Is there any unkindness[31] between my lord

and you, monsieur?

PAROLLES    I know not how I have deserved to run into my

lord’s displeasure.

LAFEW    You have made shift[35] to run into’t, boots and spurs

and all, like him that leapt into the custard.[36] And out of it

you’ll run again, rather than suffer question[37] for your

residence.[38]

BERTRAM    It may be you have mistaken[39] him, my lord.

LAFEW    And shall do so ever, though I took him at’s prayers.

Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be

no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes.

Trust him not in matter of heavy[43] consequence. I have kept of

them tame[44], and know their natures.— Farewell, monsieur. I

have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve[45] at

my hand, but we must do good against evil.

[Exit]

PAROLLES    An idle[47] lord, I swear.

BERTRAM    I think so.

PAROLLES    Why, do you not know[49] him?

BERTRAM    Yes, I do know him well, and common speech

Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.[51]

Enter Helena [with an attendant]

HELEN    I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,

Spoke with the king and have procured his leave

For present parting[54], only he desires

Some private speech with you.

BERTRAM    I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,

Which holds not colour with the time[58], nor does

The ministration and requirèd office[59]

On my particular. Prepared I was not

For such a business: therefore am I found

So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you

That presently you take your way for home,

And rather muse[64] than ask why I entreat you,

For my respects[65] are better than they seem

And my appointments[66] have in them a need

Greater than shows itself at the first view

To you that know them not. This to my mother.

Gives a letter

’Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so

I leave you to your wisdom.

HELEN    Sir, I can nothing say,

But that I am your most obedient servant.

BERTRAM    Come, come, no more of that.

HELEN    And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out[75] that

Wherein toward me my homely stars[76] have failed

To equal my great fortune.[77]

BERTRAM    Let that go.

My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie[79] home.

HELEN    Pray, sir, your pardon.

BERTRAM    Well, what would you say?

HELEN    I am not worthy of the wealth I owe[82],

Nor dare I say ’tis mine, and yet it is.

But, like a timorous thief, most fain[84] would steal

What law does vouch[85] mine own.

BERTRAM    What would you have?

HELEN    Something, and scarce so much: nothing, indeed.

I would[88] not tell you what I would, my lord.

Faith yes:

Strangers and foes do sunder[90], and not kiss.

BERTRAM    I pray you stay[91] not, but in haste to horse.

HELEN    I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.—

To Attendant

Where are my other men?—

Monsieur, farewell.

Exit

BERTRAM    Go thou toward home, where I will never come

Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.

Away, and for our flight.

PAROLLES    Bravely, corragio[98]!

[Exeunt]

Act 3 [Scene 1]

running scene 7

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen [First and Second Lords Dumaine] with a troop of Soldiers

DUKE    So that from point to point[1] now have you heard

The fundamental reasons of this war,

Whose great decision[3] hath much blood let forth

And more thirsts after.

FIRST LORD    Holy seems the quarrel

Upon your grace’s part, black[6] and fearful

On the opposer.[7]

DUKE    Therefore we marvel much our cousin[8] France

Would in so just a business shut his bosom[9]

Against our borrowing prayers.[10]

SECOND LORD    Good my lord,

The reasons of our state I cannot yield[12],

But like a common and an outward man[13]

That the great figure of a council frames[14]

By self-unable motion[15]: therefore dare not

Say what I think of it, since I have found

Myself in my incertain grounds to fail

As often as I guessed.

DUKE    Be it his pleasure.[19]

FIRST LORD    But I am sure the younger of our nature[20],

That surfeit on their ease[21], will day by day

Come here for physic.[22]

DUKE    Welcome shall they be,

And all the honours that can fly from[24] us

Shall on them settle. You know your places well.

When better fall, for your avails[26] they fell.

Tomorrow to th’field.

Flourish [Exeunt]

[Act 3 Scene 2]

running scene 8

Enter Countess and Clown [Lavatch]

COUNTESS    It hath happened all as I would have had it, save

that he comes not along with her.

LAVATCH    By my troth[3], I take my young lord to be a very

melancholy man.

COUNTESS    By what observance[5], I pray you?

LAVATCH    Why, he will look upon his boot and sing: mend[6] the

ruff and sing: ask questions and sing: pick his teeth and sing.

I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold[8] a goodly

manor for a song.

Opens a letter

COUNTESS    Let me see what he writes, and when

he means to come.

LAVATCH    I have no mind to[12] Isbel since I was at court. Our old

lings[13] and our Isbels o’th’country are nothing like your old

ling and your Isbels o’th’court. The brains[14] of my Cupid’s

knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money,

with no stomach.[16]

COUNTESS    What have we here?

LAVATCH    E’en[18] that you have there.

Exit

COUNTESS

[Reads] a letter

‘I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered[19] the

king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her,

and sworn to make the “not”[21] eternal. You shall hear I am

run away: know it before the report come. If there be

breadth enough in the world, I will hold[23] a long distance. My

duty to you. Your unfortunate son, Bertram.’

This is not well, rash and unbridled boy.

To fly[26] the favours of so good a king,

To pluck his indignation on thy head

By the misprizing[28] of a maid too virtuous

For the contempt of empire.[29]

Enter Clown [Lavatch]

LAVATCH    O, madam, yonder is heavy news within[30], between

two soldiers and my young lady!

COUNTESS    What is the matter?

LAVATCH    Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some

comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he

would.

COUNTESS    Why should he be killed?

LAVATCH    So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does.

The danger is in standing to’t.[38] That’s the loss of men, though

it be the getting[39] of children. Here they come will tell you

more. For my part, I only hear your son was run away.

[He may exit]

Enter Helen and two Gentlemen [First and Second Lords Dumaine]

SECOND LORD    Save[41] you, good madam.

HELEN    Madam, my lord is gone, forever gone.

FIRST LORD    Do not say so.

COUNTESS    Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,

I have felt so many quirks[45] of joy and grief

That the first face of neither, on the start[46]

Can woman[47] me unto’t. Where is my son, I pray you?

FIRST LORD    Madam, he’s gone to serve the Duke of Florence:

We met him thitherward, for thence[49] we came,

And after some dispatch in hand[50] at court,

Thither we bend[51] again.

Shows a letter

HELEN    Look on his letter, madam, here’s my passport.[52]

Reads

‘When thou canst get the ring upon my finger,

which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of

thy body that I am father to, then call me husband. But in

such a “then” I write a “never”.’ This is a dreadful sentence.[56]

COUNTESS    Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

FIRST LORD    Ay, madam, and for the contents’ sake are sorry for

our pains.

COUNTESS    I prithee, lady, have a better cheer.[60]

If thou engrossest all the griefs are[61] thine,

Thou robb’st me of a moiety[62]: he was my son,

But I do wash his name out of my blood,

And thou art all my[64] child. Towards Florence is he?

FIRST LORD    Ay, madam.

COUNTESS    And to be a soldier?

FIRST LORD    Such is his noble purpose, and believe’t,

The duke will lay upon him all the honour

That good convenience[69] claims.

COUNTESS    Return you thither?

SECOND LORD    Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

Reads

HELEN    ‘Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.’

’Tis bitter.

COUNTESS    Find you that there?

HELEN    Ay, madam.

SECOND LORD    ’Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply[76], which his

heart was not consenting to.

COUNTESS    Nothing in France, until he have no wife!

There’s nothing here that is too good for him

But only she, and she deserves a lord

That twenty such rude[81] boys might tend upon

And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?

SECOND LORD    A servant only, and a gentleman

Which I have sometime known.

COUNTESS    Parolles, was it not?

SECOND LORD    Ay, my good lady, he.

COUNTESS    A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.

My son corrupts a well-derivèd[88] nature

With his inducement.[89]

SECOND LORD    Indeed, good lady,

The fellow has a deal of that[91] too much,

Which holds him much to have.[92]

COUNTESS    You’re welcome, gentlemen.

I will entreat you, when you see my son,

To tell him that his sword can never win

The honour that he loses: more I’ll entreat you

Written[97] to bear along.

FIRST LORD    We serve you, madam,

In that and all your worthiest affairs.

COUNTESS    Not so, but as we change[100] our courtesies.

Will you draw near?[101]

Exeunt [all but Helen]

HELEN    ‘Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.’

Nothing in France, until he has no wife!

Thou shalt have none, Rossillion[104], none in France.

Then hast thou all again. Poor lord, is’t I

That chase thee from thy country and expose

Those tender limbs of thine to the event[107]

Of the none-sparing war? And is it I

That drive thee from the sportive[109] court, where thou

Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark[110]

Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers[111]

That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with false aim, move the still-peering[113] air

That sings[114] with piercing. Do not touch my lord.

Whoever shoots at him, I set him there.[115]

Whoever charges on his forward[116] breast,

I am the caitiff[117] that do hold him to’t,

And though I kill him not, I am the cause

His death was so effected. Better ’twere

I met the ravin[120] lion when he roared

With sharp constraint[121] of hunger: better ’twere

That all the miseries which nature owes[122]

Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rossillion,

Whence honour but of danger wins a scar[124],

As oft it loses all.[125] I will be gone:

My being here it is that holds thee hence.

Shall I stay here to do’t? No, no, although[127]

The air of paradise did fan the house

And angels officed all.[129] I will be gone,

That pitiful[130] rumour may report my flight,

To consolate[131] thine ear. Come night, end day!

For with the dark, poor thief, I’ll steal[132] away.

Exit

[Act 3 Scene 3]

running scene 9

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion [Bertram], Drum and Trumpets, soldiers, Parolles

DUKE    The general of our horse thou art, and we,

Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence[2]

Upon thy promising fortune.

BERTRAM    Sir, it is

A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet

We’ll strive to bear it for your worthy sake

To th’extreme edge[7] of hazard.

DUKE    Then go thou forth,

And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm[9]

As thy auspicious mistress!

BERTRAM    This very day,

Great Mars, I put myself into thy file.[12]

Make me but like my thoughts[13], and I shall prove

A lover of thy drum, hater of love.

Exeunt

[Act 3 Scene 4]

running scene 10

Enter Countess and Steward [Reynaldo]

COUNTESS    Alas! And would you take the letter of[1] her?

Might you not know she would do as she has done,

By sending me a letter? Read it again.

REYNALDO

[Reads the] letter

‘I am Saint Jaques[4]’ pilgrim, thither gone.

Ambitious love hath so in me offended,

That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,

With sainted[7] vow my faults to have amended.

Write, write, that from the bloody course of war

My dearest master, your dear son, may hie.[9]

Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far

His name with zealous fervour sanctify.

His taken[12] labours bid him me forgive.

I, his despiteful Juno[13], sent him forth

From courtly friends, with camping[14] foes to live

Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth.

He is too good and fair for death and me,

Whom[17] I myself embrace, to set him free.’

COUNTESS    Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!

Reynaldo, you did never lack advice[19] so much,

As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,

I could have well diverted her intents,

Which thus she hath prevented.[22]

REYNALDO    Pardon me, madam.

If I had given you this at overnight[24],

She might have been o’erta’en, and yet she writes

Pursuit would be but vain.

COUNTESS    What angel shall

Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive,

Unless her prayers, whom[29] heaven delights to hear

And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath

Of greatest justice. Write, write, Reynaldo,

To this unworthy husband[32] of his wife.

Let every word weigh heavy of[33] her worth

That he does weigh too light. My greatest grief,

Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.

Dispatch the most convenient messenger.

When haply[37] he shall hear that she is gone,

He will return, and hope I may that she,

Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,

Led hither by pure love. Which of them both

Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense[41]

To make distinction. Provide[42] this messenger.

My heart is heavy and mine age is weak.

Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.

Exeunt

[Act 3 Scene 5]

running scene 11

A tucket afar off. Enter old Widow of Florence, her daughter [Diana], and Mariana with other Citizens

WIDOW    Nay, come, for if they do approach the city, we shall

lose all[2] the sight.

DIANA    They say the French count has done most

honourable service.

WIDOW    It is reported that he has taken their[5] greatest

commander, and that with his own hand he slew the duke’s

brother.

Tucket

We have lost our labour. They are gone a contrary way.

Hark! You may know by their trumpets.

MARIANA    Come, let’s return again, and suffice[10] ourselves with

the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl.[11]

The honour of a maid is her name[12], and no legacy is so rich as

honesty.[13]

WIDOW    I have told my neighbour how you have been

solicited[15] by a gentleman his companion.

MARIANA    I know that knave, hang him! One Parolles: a filthy

officer he is in those suggestions for[17] the young earl. Beware

of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens

and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go[19]

under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them, and the

misery is example that so terrible shows in the wreck of[21]

maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession[22], but

that they are limed[23] with the twigs that threatens them. I

hope I need not to advise you further, but I hope your own

grace will keep you where you are, though[25] there were no

further danger known but the modesty which is so lost.[26]

DIANA    You shall not need to fear[27] me.

Enter Helen [disguised as a pilgrim]

WIDOW    I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will

lie[29] at my house: thither they send one another. I’ll question

her.— God save you, pilgrim! Whither are you bound?

HELEN    To Saint Jaques le Grand.

Where do the palmers[32] lodge, I do beseech you?

WIDOW    At the Saint Francis here beside the port.[33]

A march afar

HELEN    Is this the way?

WIDOW    Ay, marry, is’t. Hark you!

They come this way. If you will tarry[36],

Holy pilgrim, but till the troops come by,

I will conduct you where you shall be lodged,

The rather for[39] I think I know your hostess

As ample[40] as myself.

HELEN    Is it yourself?

WIDOW    If you shall please so, pilgrim.

HELEN    I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.[43]

WIDOW    You came, I think, from France?

HELEN    I did so.

WIDOW    Here you shall see a countryman of yours

That has done worthy service.

HELEN    His name, I pray you.

DIANA    The Count Rossillion. Know you such a one?

HELEN    But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:

His face I know not.

DIANA    Whatsome’er[52] he is,

He’s bravely taken[53] here. He stole from France,

As ’tis reported, for[54] the king had married him

Against his liking. Think you it is so?

HELEN    Ay, surely, mere[56] the truth. I know his lady.

DIANA    There is a gentleman that serves the count

Reports but coarsely of her.

HELEN    What’s his name?

DIANA    Monsieur Parolles.

HELEN    O, I believe[61] with him,

In argument of praise, or to[62] the worth

Of the great count himself, she is too mean[63]

To have her name repeated. All her deserving[64]

Is a reservèd honesty[65], and that

I have not heard examined.[66]

DIANA    Alas, poor lady!

’Tis a hard bondage to become the wife

Of a detesting lord.

WIDOW    I write[70] good creature: wheresoe’er she is,

Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her

A shrewd[72] turn if she pleased.

HELEN    How do you mean?

Maybe the amorous count solicits her

In the unlawful purpose?

WIDOW    He does indeed,

And brokes with all that can in such a suit[77]

Corrupt the tender honour of a maid.

But she is armed for him and keeps her guard

In honestest[80] defence.

Drum and colours. Enter Count Rossillion [Bertram], Parolles and the whole army

MARIANA    The gods forbid else![81]

WIDOW    So, now they come:

That is Antonio, the duke’s eldest son.

That, Escalus.

HELEN    Which is the Frenchman?

DIANA    He,

That with the plume. ’Tis a most gallant fellow.

I would he loved his wife: if he were honester[88]

He were much goodlier. Is’t not a handsome gentleman?

HELEN    I like him well.

DIANA    ’Tis pity he is not honest. Yond’s that same knave

That leads him to these places. Were I his lady,

I would poison that vile rascal.

HELEN    Which is he?

DIANA    That jackanapes[95] with scarves. Why is he melancholy?

HELEN    Perchance he’s hurt i’th’battle.

PAROLLES    Lose our drum! Well.

MARIANA    He’s shrewdly[98] vexed at something. Look, he has

spied us.

WIDOW    Marry, hang you!

MARIANA    And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier![101]

Exeunt [Bertram, Parolles and army]

WIDOW    The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you

Where you shall host. Of enjoined penitents[103]

There’s four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,

Already at my house.

HELEN    I humbly thank you:

Please it[107] this matron and this gentle maid

To eat with us tonight, the charge[108] and thanking

Shall be for me.[109] And, to requite you further,

I will bestow some precepts of[110] this virgin

Worthy the note.

BOTH    We’ll take your offer kindly.[112]

Exeunt

[Act 3 Scene 6]

running scene 12

Enter Count Rossillion [Bertram] and the [two] Frenchmen, as at first

SECOND LORD    Nay, good my lord, put him to’t[1], let him have his

way.

FIRST LORD    If your lordship find him not a hilding[3], hold me no

more in your respect.

SECOND LORD    On my life, my lord, a bubble.[5]

BERTRAM    Do you think I am so far deceived in him?

SECOND LORD    Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,

without any malice, but to speak of him as[8] my kinsman, he’s

a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly

promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy

your lordship’s entertainment.[11]

FIRST LORD    It were fit you knew him, lest reposing[12] too far in his

virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty[13]

business in a main danger fail you.

BERTRAM    I would I knew in what particular action to try[15] him.

FIRST LORD    None better than to let him fetch off[16] his drum,

which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

SECOND LORD    I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly

surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not[19]

from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink[20] him so, that he

shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer[21]

of the adversaries, when we bring him to our own tents. Be

but your lordship present at his examination. If he do not,

for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of

base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence[25] in

his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his

soul upon oath[27], never trust my judgement in anything.

FIRST LORD    O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum.

He says he has a stratagem for’t. When your lordship sees

the bottom[30] of his success in’t, and to what metal this

counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not[31]

John Drum’s entertainment, your inclining[32] cannot be

removed. Here he comes.

Enter Parolles

Aside to Bertram

SECOND LORD    O, for the love of laughter, hinder not

the honour of his design. Let him fetch off his drum

in any hand.[36]

BERTRAM    How now, monsieur? This drum sticks sorely in[37]

your disposition.

FIRST LORD    A pox[39] on’t! Let it go, ’tis but a drum.

PAROLLES    ‘But a drum’? Is’t ‘but a drum’? A drum so lost?

There was excellent command: to charge in with our horse

upon our own wings, and to rend[42] our own soldiers!

FIRST LORD    That was not to be blamed in the command of the[43]

service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could

not have prevented if he had been there to command.

BERTRAM    Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success.

Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum, but it is not

to be recovered.

PAROLLES    It might have been recovered.

BERTRAM    It might, but it is not now.

PAROLLES    It is to be recovered. But[51] that the merit of service is

seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would

have that drum or another, or hic jacet[53].

BERTRAM    Why, if you have a stomach[54], to’t, monsieur: if you

think your mystery[55] in stratagem can bring this instrument

of honour again into his[56] native quarter, be magnanimous in

the enterprise and go on. I will grace[57] the attempt for a

worthy exploit. If you speed[58] well in it, the duke shall both

speak of it and extend to you what further becomes[59] his

greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness.

PAROLLES    By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

BERTRAM    But you must not now slumber in it.[62]

PAROLLES    I’ll about it this evening, and I will presently pen[63]

down my dilemmas[64], encourage myself in my certainty, put

myself into my mortal preparation[65], and by midnight look to

hear further from me.

BERTRAM    May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone

about it?

PAROLLES    I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the

attempt I vow.

BERTRAM    I know thou’rt valiant, and to the possibility[71] of thy

soldiership will subscribe[72] for thee. Farewell.

PAROLLES    I love not many words.

Exit

SECOND LORD    No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a

strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake

this business, which he knows is not to be done, damns[76]

himself to do and dares better be damned than to do’t?

FIRST LORD    You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it

is that he will steal himself into a man’s favour and for a

week escape a great deal of discoveries, but when you find

him out, you have[81] him ever after.

BERTRAM    Why, do you think he will make no deed[82] at all of this

that so seriously he does address himself unto?

SECOND LORD    None in the world. But return with an invention

and clap upon you two or three probable[85] lies. But we have

almost embossed[86] him. You shall see his fall tonight; for

indeed he is not for[87] your lordship’s respect.

FIRST LORD    We’ll make you some sport with the fox ere we case[88]

him. He was first smoked[89] by the old lord Lafew. When his

disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat[90] you shall find

him, which you shall see this very night.

SECOND LORD    I must go look my twigs.[92] He shall be caught.

To First Lord

BERTRAM    Your brother he shall go along with me.[93]

FIRST LORD    As’t please your lordship. I’ll leave you.

[Exit]

BERTRAM    Now will I lead you to the house, and show you

The lass I spoke of.

SECOND LORD    But you say she’s honest.

BERTRAM    That’s all the fault. I spoke with her but once

And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her

By this same coxcomb that we have i’th’wind[100]

Tokens and letters which she did re-send.

And this is all I have done. She’s a fair creature.

Will you go see her?

SECOND LORD    With all my heart, my lord.

Exeunt

[Act 3 Scene 7]

running scene 13

Enter Helen and Widow

HELEN    If you misdoubt[1] me that I am not she,

I know not how I shall assure you further,

But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.[3]

WIDOW    Though my estate[4] be fall’n, I was well born,

Nothing acquainted with these businesses,

And would not put my reputation now

In any staining act.

HELEN    Nor would I wish you.

First, give me trust, the count he is my husband,

And what to your sworn counsel[10] I have spoken

Is so from word to word.[11] And then you cannot,

By[12] the good aid that I of you shall borrow,

Err in bestowing it.

WIDOW    I should believe you,

For you have showed me that which well approves[15]

You’re great in fortune.

Gives a purse

HELEN    Take this purse of gold,

And let me buy your friendly help thus far,

Which I will over-pay and pay again

When I have found it.[20] The count he woos your daughter,

Lays down his wanton[21] siege before her beauty,

Resolves to carry her: let her in fine[22] consent,

As we’ll direct her how ’tis best to bear[23] it.

Now his important blood[24] will naught deny

That she’ll demand: a ring the county[25] wears,

That downward hath succeeded in his house

From son to son, some four or five descents

Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds

In most rich choice, yet in his idle fire[29],

To buy his will[30], it would not seem too dear,

Howe’er repented after.

WIDOW    Now I see

The bottom[33] of your purpose.

HELEN    You see it lawful[34], then: it is no more,

But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,

Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter[36];

In fine, delivers me to fill the time,

Herself most chastely absent. After,

To marry her[39], I’ll add three thousand crowns

To what is passed[40] already.

WIDOW    I have yielded:

Instruct my daughter how she shall persever[42],

That time and place with this deceit so lawful

May prove coherent.[44] Every night he comes

With musics[45] of all sorts and songs composed

To her unworthiness. It nothing steads[46] us

To chide[47] him from our eaves, for he persists

As if his life lay[48] on’t.

HELEN    Why then tonight

Let us assay our plot, which, if it speed[50],

Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed[51],

And lawful meaning in a lawful act,

Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact.[53]

But let’s about it.

[Exeunt]

Act 4 [Scene 1]

running scene 14

Enter one of the Frenchmen [the First Lord Dumaine], with five or six other Soldiers in ambush

FIRST LORD    He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner.

When you sally upon him, speak what terrible[2] language you

will: though you understand it not yourselves, no matter, for

we must not seem to understand him, unless[4] some one

among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter.

FIRST SOLDIER    Good captain, let me be th’interpreter.

FIRST LORD    Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy

voice?

FIRST SOLDIER    No, sir, I warrant you.

FIRST LORD    But what linsey-woolsey[10] hast thou to speak to us

again?[11]

FIRST SOLDIER    E’en such as you speak to me.

FIRST LORD    He must think us some band of strangers[13]

i’th’adversary’s entertainment. Now he hath a smack[14] of all

neighbouring languages: therefore we must every one be a

man of his own fancy, not to know[16] what we speak one to

another, so we seem to know, is to know straight[17] our purpose:

choughs[18]’ language, gabble enough and good enough. As for

you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch[19], ho!

Here he comes, to beguile[20] two hours in a sleep, and then to

return and swear the lies he forges.

They hide

Enter Parolles

PAROLLES    Ten o’clock. Within these three hours ’twill be time

enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be

a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke[24]

me, and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door.

I find my tongue is too foolhardy, but my heart hath the fear

of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports[27]

of my tongue.

Speaks aside to the others throughout

FIRST LORD    This is the first truth that e’er

thine own tongue was guilty of.

PAROLLES    What the devil should move me to undertake the

recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the

impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must

give myself some hurts[34], and say I got them in exploit: yet

slight ones will not carry it. They will say, ‘Came you off with

so little?’ And great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what’s

the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman’s[37]

mouth and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mule[38], if you

prattle me into these perils.

FIRST LORD    Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that

he is?

PAROLLES    I would the cutting of my garments would serve the[42]

turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

FIRST LORD    We cannot afford[44] you so.

PAROLLES    Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in[45]

stratagem.

FIRST LORD    ’Twould not do.

PAROLLES    Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

FIRST LORD    Hardly serve.

PAROLLES    Though I swore I leaped from the window of the

citadel.[51]

FIRST LORD    How deep?

PAROLLES    Thirty fathom.[53]

FIRST LORD    Three great oaths would scarce make that be

believed.

PAROLLES    I would I had any drum of the enemy’s. I would

swear I recovered it.

FIRST LORD    You shall hear one anon.

PAROLLES    A drum now of the enemy’s—

Alarum within

The Lord and Soldiers come out of hiding

First Soldier will act as Interpreter

FIRST LORD    Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

ALL    Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

They seize and blindfold Parolles

PAROLLES    O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes.

INTERPRETER    Boskos thromuldo boskos.

PAROLLES    I know you are the Muskos[64]’ regiment,

And I shall lose my life for want of language.

If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch[66],

Italian, or French, let him speak to me,

I’ll discover[68] that which shall undo the Florentine.

INTERPRETER    Boskos vauvado. I understand thee, and can speak

thy tongue. Kerelybonto. Sir, betake thee[70] to thy faith, for

seventeen poniards[71] are at thy bosom.

PAROLLES    O!

INTERPRETER    O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.

FIRST LORD    Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

INTERPRETER    The general is content to spare thee yet,

And, hoodwinked as thou art, will lead thee on[76]

To gather[77] from thee. Haply thou mayst inform

Something to save thy life.

PAROLLES    O, let me live,

And all the secrets of our camp I’ll show,

Their force, their purposes. Nay, I’ll speak that

Which you will wonder at.

INTERPRETER    But wilt thou faithfully?

PAROLLES    If I do not, damn me.

INTERPRETER    Acordo linta.

Come on, thou art granted space.[86]

Exeunt [with Parolles guarded]

A short alarum within

FIRST LORD    Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother

We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled[88]

Till we do hear from them.

SECOND SOLDIER    Captain, I will.

FIRST LORD    A[91] will betray us all unto ourselves:

Inform on[92] that.

SECOND SOLDIER    So I will, sir.

FIRST LORD    Till then I’ll keep him dark and safely locked.

Exeunt

[Act 4 Scene 2]

running scene 15

Enter Bertram and the maid called Diana

BERTRAM    They told me that your name was Fontybell.[1]

DIANA    No, my good lord, Diana.

BERTRAM    Titled goddess[3],

And worth it, with addition![4] But, fair soul,

In your fine frame hath love no quality?[5]

If the quick[6] fire of youth light not your mind,

You are no maiden, but a monument.[7]

When you are dead, you should be such a one

As you are now, for you are cold and stern,

And now you should be as your mother was

When your sweet self was got.[11]

DIANA    She then was honest.[12]

BERTRAM    So should you be.

DIANA    No:

My mother did but duty, such, my lord,

As you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM    No more o’that.

I prithee do not strive against my vows[18]:

I was compelled to her, but I love thee

By love’s own sweet constraint[20], and will forever

Do thee all rights[21] of service.

DIANA    Ay, so you serve us

Till we serve you, but when you have our roses[23],

You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves[24]

And mock us with our bareness.[25]

BERTRAM    How have I sworn!

DIANA    ’Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,

But the plain single vow that is vowed true.

What is not holy, that we swear not by,

But take the high’st to[30] witness. Then, pray you tell me:

If I should swear by Jove[31]’s great attributes,

I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths

When I did love you ill? This has no holding[33],

To swear by him whom I protest[34] to love

That I will work against him: therefore your oaths

Are words and poor conditions but unsealed[36],

At least in my opinion.

BERTRAM    Change it[38], change it.

Be not so holy-cruel[39]: love is holy,

And my integrity ne’er knew the crafts[40]

That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,

But give thyself unto my sick[42] desires,

Who then recovers.[43] Say thou art mine, and ever

My love as it begins shall so persèver.

DIANA    I see that men make ropes in such a scar[45]

That we’ll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

BERTRAM    I’ll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power

To give it from me.

DIANA    Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM    It is an honour[50] ’longing to our house,

Bequeathèd down from many ancestors,

Which were the greatest obloquy[52] i’th’world

In me to lose.

DIANA    Mine honour’s such a ring[54]:

My chastity’s the jewel of our house,

Bequeathèd down from many ancestors,

Which were the greatest obloquy i’th’world

In me to lose. Thus your own proper[58] wisdom

Brings in the champion honour on my part

Against your vain assault.

BERTRAM    Here, take my ring.

Gives her a ring

My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,

And I’ll be bid[63] by thee.

DIANA    When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window:

I’ll order take[65] my mother shall not hear.

Now will I charge you in the band[66] of truth,

When you have conquered my yet maiden[67] bed,

Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me.

My reasons are most strong and you shall know them

When back again this ring shall be delivered:

And on your finger in the night I’ll put

Another ring, that what in time proceeds[72]

May token[73] to the future our past deeds.

Adieu, till then. Then, fail not. You have won

A wife of me, though there my hope be done.[75]

BERTRAM    A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

[Exit]

DIANA    For which live long to thank both heaven and me.

You may so in the end.

My mother told me just how he would woo,

As if she sat in’s heart. She says all men

Have the like[81] oaths. He had sworn to marry me

When his wife’s dead: therefore I’ll lie with him

When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid[83],

Marry[84] that will, I live and die a maid.

Only in this disguise[85] I think’t no sin

To cozen[86] him that would unjustly win.

Exit

[Act 4 Scene 3]

running scene 16

Enter the two French Captains [the Lords Dumaine] and some two or three Soldiers

FIRST LORD    You have not given him his mother’s letter?

SECOND LORD    I have delivered it an hour since[2]: there is

something in’t that stings his nature, for on the reading it he

changed almost into another man.

FIRST LORD    He has much worthy[5] blame laid upon him for

shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.

SECOND LORD    Especially he hath incurred the everlasting

displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty[8] to

sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let

it dwell darkly[10] with you.

FIRST LORD    When you have spoken it, ’tis dead, and I am the

grave of it.

SECOND LORD    He hath perverted[13] a young gentlewoman here in

Florence, of a most chaste renown, and this night he fleshes[14]

his will in the spoil[15] of her honour. He hath given her his

monumental ring, and thinks himself made[16] in the unchaste

composition.[17]

FIRST LORD    Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves[18],

what things are we!

SECOND LORD    Merely[20] our own traitors. And as in the common

course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves[21], till

they attain to their abhorred ends, so he[22] that in this action

contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream[23]

o’erflows himself.

FIRST LORD    Is it not meant[25] damnable in us, to be trumpeters of

our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company

tonight?

SECOND LORD    Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour.[28]

FIRST LORD    That approaches apace.[29] I would gladly have him

see his company anatomized[30], that he might take a measure

of his own judgements, wherein so curiously he had set this[31]

counterfeit.

SECOND LORD    We will not meddle with him till he come, for his[33]

presence must be the whip of the other.[34]

FIRST LORD    In the meantime, what hear you of these wars?

SECOND LORD    I hear there is an overture[36] of peace.

FIRST LORD    Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

SECOND LORD    What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he

travel higher[39], or return again into France?

FIRST LORD    I perceive by this demand, you are not altogether of[40]

his council.

SECOND LORD    Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of[42]

his act.

FIRST LORD    Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his

house. Her pretence[45] is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand;

which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony[46] she

accomplished. And there residing, the tenderness of her

nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of

her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

SECOND LORD    How is this justified?[50]

FIRST LORD    The stronger part of it by her own letters, which

makes her story true, even to the point of her death. Her

death itself, which could not be her office[53] to say is come, was

faithfully confirmed by the rector[54] of the place.

SECOND LORD    Hath the count all this intelligence?

FIRST LORD    Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from

point, to the full arming of the verity.[57]

SECOND LORD    I am heartily sorry that he’ll be glad of this.

FIRST LORD    How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of[59]

our losses!

SECOND LORD    And how mightily some other times we drown

our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here

acquired for him shall at home be encountered[63] with a shame

as ample.

FIRST LORD    The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped

them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not

cherished[68] by our virtues.

Enter a [Servant as a] Messenger

How now! Where’s your master?

SERVANT    He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath

taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for[71]

France. The duke hath offered[72] him letters of commendations

to the king.

SECOND LORD    They shall be no more than needful there, if[74] they

were more than they can commend.[75]

Enter Count Rossillion [Bertram]

FIRST LORD    They cannot be too sweet for the king’s tartness.

Here’s his lordship now.— How now, my lord! Is’t not after

midnight?

BERTRAM    I have tonight dispatched[79] sixteen businesses, a

month’s length apiece, by an abstract of success[80]: I have

congied with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest[81],

buried a wife, mourned for her, writ to my lady mother I am

returning, entertained my convoy[83] and between these main

parcels of dispatch effected many nicer[84] needs. The last was

the greatest, but that I have not ended yet.

SECOND LORD    If the business be of any difficulty, and this

morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your

lordship.

BERTRAM    I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear[89]

of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the

fool and the soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit

module, h’as deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier.[92]

To Soldiers

SECOND LORD    Bring him forth.

H’as sat i’th’stocks all night, poor gallant[94] knave.

[Exit some Soldiers]

BERTRAM    No matter. His heels have deserved it in usurping[95] his

spurs so long. How does he carry[96] himself?

SECOND LORD    I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry

him. But to answer you as you would be understood: he

weeps like a wench that had shed[99] her milk, he hath confessed

himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the

time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster[101] of his

setting i’th’stocks. And what think you he hath confessed?

BERTRAM    Nothing of me, has a?[103]

SECOND LORD    His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his

face: if your lordship be in’t, as I believe you are, you must

have the patience to hear it.

Enter Parolles [blindfolded] with his Interpreter

BERTRAM    A plague upon him! Muffled? He can say nothing of

me. Hush, hush.

FIRST LORD    Hoodman[109] comes! Portotartarossa.

INTERPRETER    He calls for the tortures. What will you say

without ’em?

PAROLLES    I will confess what I know without constraint.[112] If ye

pinch me like a pasty[113], I can say no more.

INTERPRETER    Bosko chimurcho.

FIRST LORD    Boblibindo chicurmurco.

INTERPRETER    You are a merciful general. Our general bids you

answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.[117]

PAROLLES    And truly, as I hope to live.

Pretends to read

INTERPRETER    ‘First demand of him how many horse[119]

the duke is strong.[120]’ What say you to that?

PAROLLES    Five or six thousand, but very weak and

unserviceable. The troops are all scattered, and the

commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and

credit and as I hope to live.

INTERPRETER    Shall I set down your answer so?

PAROLLES    Do. I’ll take the sacrament on’t, how and which[126] way

you will.

Bertram and the Lords speak aside throughout

BERTRAM    All’s one to him. What a past-saving[128] slave is this?

FIRST LORD    You’re deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur Parolles,

the gallant militarist — that was his own phrase — that had

the whole theoric[131] of war in the knot of his scarf, and the

practice in the chape[132] of his dagger.

SECOND LORD    I will never trust a man again for keeping his

sword clean[134], nor believe he can have everything in him by

wearing his apparel neatly.

To Parolles

INTERPRETER    Well, that’s set down.

PAROLLES    ‘Five or six thousand horse,’ I said — I will say true

— ‘or thereabouts’, set down, for I’ll speak truth.

FIRST LORD    He’s very near the truth in this.

BERTRAM    But I con him no thanks for’t, in the nature[140] he

delivers it.

PAROLLES    ‘Poor rogues’, I pray you say.

INTERPRETER    Well, that’s set down.

PAROLLES    I humbly thank you, sir. A truth’s a truth, the

rogues are marvellous[145] poor.

Pretends to read

INTERPRETER    ‘Demand of him, of what strength

they are a-foot.[147]’ What say you to that?

PAROLLES    By my troth, sir, if I were to live[148] this present hour,

I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty:

Sebastian, so[150] many: Corambus, so many: Jaques, so many:

Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick and Gratii, two hundred fifty

each: mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two

hundred fifty each. So that the muster-file, rotten and sound[153],

upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll[154], half of

the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks[155],

lest they shake themselves to pieces.

BERTRAM    What shall be done to him?

FIRST LORD    Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him

my condition[159], and what credit I have with the duke.

Pretends to read

INTERPRETER    Well, that’s set down. ‘You shall

demand of him, whether one Captain Dumaine be

i’th’camp, a Frenchman, what his reputation is with the

duke, what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars, or

whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing[164]

sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt.’ What say you to

this? What do you know of it?

PAROLLES    I beseech you let me answer to the particular[167] of the

inter’gatories[168]: demand them singly.

INTERPRETER    Do you know this Captain Dumaine?

PAROLLES    I know him: a was a botcher’s ’prentice[170] in Paris,

from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve’s fool[171]

with child — a dumb innocent[172] that could

not say him nay.[173]

First Lord attempts to hit Parolles

BERTRAM    Nay, by your leave, hold your hands, though I know

his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.[175]

INTERPRETER    Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence’s

camp?

PAROLLES    Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy.[178]

FIRST LORD    Nay look not so upon me. We shall hear of your

lord anon.

INTERPRETER    What is his reputation with the duke?

PAROLLES    The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer

of mine, and writ to me this other day to turn him out

o’th’band.[184] I think I have his letter in my pocket.

They search his pockets

INTERPRETER    Marry, we’ll search.

PAROLLES    In good sadness[186], I do not know. Either it is there, or

it is upon a file with the duke’s other letters in my tent.

INTERPRETER    Here ’tis. Here’s a paper. Shall I read it to you?

PAROLLES    I do not know if it be it or no.

BERTRAM    Our interpreter does it well.

FIRST LORD    Excellently.

Reads

INTERPRETER    ‘Dian, the count’s a fool, and full of gold’—

PAROLLES    That is not the duke’s letter, sir. That is an

advertisement to a proper[194] maid in Florence, one Diana, to

take heed of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a foolish

idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up[196]

again.

INTERPRETER    Nay, I’ll read it first, by your favour.[198]

PAROLLES    My meaning in’t, I protest, was very honest in the

behalf of the maid, for I knew the young count to be a

dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity

and devours up all the fry[202] it finds.

BERTRAM    Damnable both-sides[203] rogue!

INTERPRETER

[Reads the] letter

‘When he swears oaths, bid him drop[204] gold, and take it.

After he scores[205], he never pays the score.

Half won is match well made, match and well make it[206];

He ne’er pays after-debts, take it[207] before.

And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this:

Men are to mell[209] with, boys are not to kiss.

For count[210] of this, the count’s a fool, I know it,

Who pays before[211], but not when he does owe it.

Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, Parolles.’

BERTRAM    He shall be whipped through the army with this

rhyme in’s[214] forehead.

SECOND LORD    This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold[215]

linguist and the armipotent[216] soldier.

BERTRAM    I could endure anything before but a cat, and now

he’s a cat to me.

INTERPRETER    I perceive, sir, by the general’s looks, we shall be

fain[220] to hang you.

PAROLLES    My life, sir, in any case. Not that I am afraid to die,

but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the

remainder of nature.[223] Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i’th’stocks,

or anywhere, so I may live.

INTERPRETER    We’ll see what may be done, so you confess freely:

therefore, once more to this Captain Dumaine. You have

answered to his reputation with the duke and to his valour.

What is his honesty?

PAROLLES    He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister[229], for rapes

and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not[230]

keeping of oaths, in breaking ’em he is stronger than

Hercules.[232] He will lie, sir, with such volubility that you would

think truth were a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he

will be swine-drunk[234], and in his sleep he does little harm, save

to his bed-clothes about him. But they know his conditions[235]

and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his

honesty: he has everything that an honest man should not

have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing.

FIRST LORD    I begin to love him for this.

BERTRAM    For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon

him for me. He’s more and more a cat.

INTERPRETER    What say you to his expertness in war?

PAROLLES    Faith, sir, h’as led the drum before the English[243]

tragedians — to belie[244] him, I will not — and more of his

soldiership I know not, except, in that country he had the

honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end[246], to

instruct for the doubling of files.[247] I would do the man what

honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

FIRST LORD    He hath out-villained villainy so far that the rarity

redeems him.

BERTRAM    A pox on him, he’s a cat still.

INTERPRETER    His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to

ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt.

PAROLLES    Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple[254] of his

salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut th’entail from all[255]

remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.

INTERPRETER    What’s his brother, the other Captain Dumaine?

SECOND LORD    Why does he ask him of me?

INTERPRETER    What’s he?

PAROLLES    E’en a crow o’th’same nest: not altogether so great

as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He

excels his brother for[262] a coward, yet his brother is reputed one

of the best that is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey[263]; marry,

in coming on[264] he has the cramp.

INTERPRETER    If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray

the Florentine?

PAROLLES    Ay, and the captain of his horse[267], Count Rossillion.

INTERPRETER    I’ll whisper with the general, and know his

pleasure.

Aside

PAROLLES    I’ll no more[270] drumming. A plague of all

drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the[271]

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[276] the

secrets of your army and made such pestiferous[277] reports of

men very nobly held[278], can serve the world for no honest use:

therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.

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

FIRST LORD    That shall you, and take your leave of all your

friends. So, look about you: know you any here?

Unblindfolds him

BERTRAM    Good morrow, noble captain.

SECOND LORD    God bless you, Captain Parolles.

FIRST LORD    God save you, noble captain.

SECOND LORD    Captain, what greeting will you[286] to my Lord Lafew?

I am for[287] France.

FIRST LORD    Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet

you writ to Diana in[289] behalf of the Count Rossillion? An I

were not a very[290] coward, I’d compel it of you. But fare you

well.

Exeunt [Bertram and Lords]

INTERPRETER    You are undone[292], captain — all your scarf that has

a knot on’t yet.

PAROLLES    Who cannot be crushed with a plot?

INTERPRETER    If you could find out a country where but[295] women

were that had received so much shame, you might begin an

impudent[297] nation. Fare ye well, sir. I am for France too. We

shall speak of you there.

Exeunt [Interpreter and Soldiers]

PAROLLES    Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great[299]

’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[303] knows himself a braggart,

Let him fear this; for it will come to pass

That every braggart shall be found an ass.

Rust, sword. Cool, blushes. And, Parolles, live

Safest in shame. Being fooled[307], by fool’ry thrive;

There’s place and means for every man alive.

I’ll after them.

Exit

[Act 4 Scene 4]

running scene 17

Enter Helen, Widow and Diana

HELEN    That you may well perceive I have not wronged you,

One of the greatest in the Christian world[2]

Shall be my surety[3], ’fore whose throne ’tis needful,

Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel.

Time was, I did him a desirèd office,

Dear almost as his life, which gratitude[6]

Through flinty Tartar’s[7] bosom would peep forth,

And answer thanks. I duly am informed

His grace is at Marseilles, to which place

We have convenient convoy.[10] You must know

I am supposèd dead. The army breaking[11],

My husband hies him[12] home, where, heaven aiding,

And by the leave of my good lord the king,

We’ll be before our welcome.[14]

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[21],

As it hath fated her to be my motive[22]

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[25] thoughts

Defiles the pitchy[26] night, so lust doth play

With what it loathes for that which is away.[27]

But more of this hereafter. You, Diana,

Under my poor instructions yet[29] must suffer

Something in my behalf.

DIANA    Let death and honesty[31]

Go with your impositions[32], I am yours,

Upon[33] your will to suffer.

HELEN    Yet[34], I pray you:

But with the word[35] the time will bring on summer,

When briars shall have leaves as well as thorns,

And be as sweet as sharp. We must away.

Our wagon is prepared, and time revives[38] us:

All’s well that ends well, still the fine’s[39] the crown;

Whate’er the course, the end is the renown.[40]

Exeunt

[Act 4 Scene 5]

running scene 18

Enter Clown [Lavatch], Old Lady [Countess] and Lafew

LAFEW    No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta[1]

fellow there, whose villainous saffron[2] would have made all

the unbaked and doughy[3] youth of a nation in his colour.

Your[4] 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[6] I speak of.

COUNTESS    I would I 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[10], I could not have owed her a

more rooted[11] love.

LAFEW    ’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may pick a

thousand salads ere we light on[13] such another herb.

LAVATCH    Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram[14] of the

salad, or rather, the herb of grace.[15]

LAFEW    They are not herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.[16]

LAVATCH    I am no great Nebuchadnezzar[17], sir. I have not much

skill in grace.[18]

LAFEW    Whether[19] dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?

LAVATCH    A fool, sir, at a woman’s service[20], and a knave at a

man’s.

LAFEW    Your distinction?

LAVATCH    I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.[23]

LAFEW    So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

LAVATCH    And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do[25] her

service.

LAFEW    I will subscribe[27] for thee, thou art both knave and

fool.

LAVATCH    At your service.

LAFEW    No, no, no.

LAVATCH    Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a

prince as you are.

LAFEW    Who’s that? A Frenchman?

LAVATCH    Faith, sir, a has an English maine, but his fisnomy[34] is

more hotter in France[35] than there.

LAFEW    What prince is that?

LAVATCH    The black prince[37], sir, alias the prince of darkness,

alias the devil.

Gives a purse

LAFEW    Hold thee[39], there’s my purse: I give thee

not this to suggest[40] thee from thy master thou talkest of. Serve

him still.

LAVATCH    I am a woodland[42] fellow, sir, that always loved a

great fire[43], and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire.

But sure he is the prince of the world.[44] Let his nobility remain

in’s court. I am for the house with the narrow gate[45], which I

take to be too little for pomp[46] to enter. Some that humble

themselves may, but the many will be too chill and tender[47],

and they’ll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate

and the great fire.

LAFEW    Go thy ways[50], I begin to be aweary of thee, and I tell

thee so before[51], because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy

ways. Let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.[52]

LAVATCH    If I put any tricks upon ’em, sir, they shall be jades’[53]

tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature.

Exit

LAFEW    A shrewd knave and an unhappy.[55]

COUNTESS    So a is. My lord that’s gone[56] 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[59], but runs where he will.

LAFEW    I like him well, ’tis not amiss. And I was about to tell

you, since I heard of the good lady’s[61] death and that my lord

your son was upon his return home, I moved[62] 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[64]

remembrance did first propose.[65] 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.

LAFEW    His highness comes post[71] from Marseilles, of as able

body as when he numbered[72] thirty. A will be here tomorrow,

or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence[73] 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.

LAFEW    Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might[78]

safely be admitted.

COUNTESS    You need but plead your honourable privilege.[80]

LAFEW    Lady, of that I have made a bold charter[81], but I thank

my God it holds yet.

Enter Clown [Lavatch]

LAVATCH    O madam, yonder’s my lord your son with a patch[83]

of velvet on’s face. Whether there be a scar under’t or no, the

velvet knows[85], 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[86]

bare.

LAFEW    A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv’ry[88] of

honour, so belike[89] is that.

LAVATCH    But it is your carbonadoed[90] face.

LAFEW    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

Act 5 [Scene 1]

running scene 19

Enter Helen, Widow and Diana, with two Attendants

HELEN    But this exceeding posting[1] day and night

Must wear[2] 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[5]

As nothing can unroot you. In happy time.[6]

Enter a Gentle Astringer

Perhaps with a hawk

This man may help me to his majesty’s ear,

If he would spend[8] 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[12]

From the report that goes upon your goodness,

And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions[14]

Which lay nice manners by, I put[15] 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[20] to the king,

Shows a petition

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[26] last night, and with more haste

Than is his use.[27]

WIDOW    Lord, how we lose our pains![28]

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 Rossillion,

Whither I am going.

HELEN    I do beseech you, sir,

Since you are like[35] to see the king before me,

Commend the paper to his gracious hand,

Gives petition

Which I presume[37] 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.[40]

GENTLEMAN    This I’ll do for you.

HELEN    And you shall find yourself to be well thanked,

Whate’er falls more.[43] We must to horse again.

Go, go, provide.[44]

[Exeunt, separately]

[Act 5 Scene 2]

running scene 20

Enter Clown [Lavatch] and Parolles

Gives Lavatch a letter

PAROLLES    Good Monsieur Lavache[1], give my lord

Lafew 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[4], and

smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

LAVATCH    Truly, Fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish[6] if it smell

so strongly as thou speakest of. I will henceforth eat no fish of

Fortune’s butt’ring. Prithee allow the wind.[8]

PAROLLES    Nay, you need not to stop[9] your nose, sir. I spake but

by a metaphor.

LAVATCH    Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my

nose, or against any man’s metaphor. Prithee get thee

further.

PAROLLES    Pray you, sir, deliver me[14] this paper.

LAVATCH    Foh! Prithee stand away. A paper[15] from Fortune’s

close-stool[16] to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes

himself.

Enter Lafew

Here is a purr[18] of Fortune’s, sir, or of Fortune’s cat — but not

a musk-cat[19] — that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of

her displeasure, and as he says, is muddied withal.[20] Pray you,

sir, use the carp[21] as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed,

ingenious[22], foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my

smiles of comfort[23] and leave him to your lordship.

[Exit]

PAROLLES    My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly

scratched.

LAFEW    And what would you have me to do? ’Tis too late to

pare[27] 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

Gives coin

a cardecue for you. Let the justices[30] make you and

Fortune friends; I am for other business.

Starts to leave

PAROLLES    I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

LAFEW    You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall ha’t,

save your word.

Gives another coin

PAROLLES    My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

LAFEW    You beg more than ‘word’ then. Cox my passion![36]

Give me your hand. How does your drum?

PAROLLES    O my good lord, you were the first that found me.[38]

LAFEW    Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost[39] thee.

PAROLLES    It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace[40], for

you did bring me out.[41]

LAFEW    Out upon thee[42], knave! Dost thou put upon me at

once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee

Trumpets sound

in grace and the other brings thee out. The

King’s coming. I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire[45]

further after me. I had talk of you last night. Though you are

a fool and a knave, you shall eat. Go to, follow.

PAROLLES    I praise God for you.

[Exeunt]

[Act 5 Scene 3]

running scene 20 continues

Flourish. Enter King, Old Lady [Countess], Lafew, the two French Lords, with Attendants

KING    We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem[1]

Was made much poorer by it: but your son,

As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know

Her estimation home.[4]

COUNTESS    ’Tis past, my liege,

And I beseech your majesty to make[6] it

Natural rebellion, done i’th’blade[7] 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[12] upon him,

And watched[13] the time to shoot.

LAFEW    This I must say,

But first I beg my pardon[15], 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

Whose beauty did astonish the survey[19]

Of richest[20] 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[25]

All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon.

The nature of his great offence is dead[27],

And deeper than oblivion we do bury

Th’incensing relics[29] of it. Let him approach

A stranger[30], no offender; and inform him

So ’tis our will he should.

GENTLEMAN[32]    I shall, my liege.

[Exit]

To Lafew

KING    What says he to your daughter? Have you

spoke?

LAFEW    All that he is hath reference to[35] your highness.

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

That sets him high in fame.

Enter Count Bertram

With a patch of velvet on his left cheek

LAFEW    He looks well on’t.

KING    I am not a day of season[39],

For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail

In me at once. But to the brightest beams

Distracted[42] clouds give way, so stand thou forth.

The time is fair again.

BERTRAM    My high-repented blames[44],

Dear sovereign, pardon to[45] me.

KING    All is whole.[46]

Not one word more of the consumèd[47] time.

Let’s take the instant by the forward top[48],

For we are old, and on our quick’st[49] decrees

Th’inaudible and noiseless foot of time

Steals ere we can effect them. You remember

The daughter of this lord?

BERTRAM    Admiringly, my liege. At first

I stuck[54] my choice upon her, ere my heart

Durst make too bold a herald[55] of my tongue,

Where the impression of mine eye infixing[56],

Contempt his scornful perspective[57] did lend me,

Which warped the line of every other favour[58],

Scorned a fair colour, or expressed it stol’n[59],

Extended or contracted[60] all proportions

To a most hideous object.[61] Thence it came

That she[62] whom all men praised and whom myself,

Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye

The dust that did offend it.

KING    Well excused.

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores[66] away

From the great count.[67] But love that comes too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried[68],

To the great sender turns[69] a sour offence,

Crying, ‘That’s good that’s gone.’ Our rash faults

Make trivial price[71] of serious things we have,

Not knowing them until we know their grave.[72]

Oft our displeasures[73], to ourselves unjust,

Destroy our friends and after weep their dust.[74]

Our own love waking cries to see what’s done,

While shameful hate sleeps out[76] the afternoon.

Be this sweet Helen’s knell[77], and now forget her.

Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin.[78]

The main consents[79] are had, and here we’ll stay

To see our widower’s second marriage day,

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

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse![82]

LAFEW    Come on, my son, in whom my house’s name

Must be digested, give a favour[84] from you

To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,

That she may quickly come.[86]

Bertram gives Lafew a ring

By my old beard,

And every hair that’s on’t, Helen, that’s dead,

Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,

The last that e’er I took her leave[90] at court,

I saw upon her finger.

BERTRAM    Hers it was not.

Lafew gives it to him

KING    Now, pray you let me see it. For mine eye,

While I was speaking, oft was fastened to’t.

This ring was mine, and when I gave it Helen,

I bade[96] her, if her fortunes ever stood

Necessitied to[97] help, that by this token

I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave[98] her

Of what should stead[99] 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[104] it

At her life’s rate.[105]

LAFEW    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[108] thrown me,

Wrapped in a paper, which contained the name

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

I stood engaged, but when I had subscribed[111]

To mine own fortune and informed her fully

I could not answer in that course of honour[113]

As she had made the overture, she ceased

In heavy satisfaction[115] and would never

Receive the ring again.

KING    Plutus[117] himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying med’cine[118],

Hath not in nature’s mystery more science[119]

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[124]

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.[128]

BERTRAM    She never saw it.

KING    Thou speak’st it falsely, as I love mine honour,

And mak’st conjectural[131] fears to come into me

Which I would fain[132] 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,

↓↑Puts ring on his own finger↓↑

More than to see this ring. Take him away.

My fore-past proofs, howe’er the matter fall[138],

Shall tax my fears of little vanity[139],

Having vainly[140] feared too little. Away with him.

We’ll sift[141] 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 a Gentleman [the Astringer]

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[150]

To tender[151] it herself. I undertook it,

Vanquished[152] thereto by the fair grace and speech

Of the poor suppliant, who by this[153] I know

Is here attending. Her business looks[154] in her

With an importing visage[155], and she told me,

In a sweet verbal brief[156], 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

Rossillion a widower. His vows are forfeited to me, and my

honour’s paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no[161]

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.’

LAFEW    I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this.[165]

I’ll none of him.

KING    The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafew,

To bring forth this discov’ry. Seek these suitors.[168]

Go speedily and bring again the count.

Enter Bertram [guarded]

I am afeard[170] the life of Helen, lady,

Was foully snatched.[171]

COUNTESS    Now, justice on the doers!

KING    I wonder, sir, sith[173] wives are monsters to you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship[174],

Yet you desire to marry.— What woman’s that?

Enter Widow [and] Diana

DIANA    I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,

Derivèd[177] from the ancient Capilet.

My suit, as I do understand, you know,

And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

WIDOW    I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour

Both suffer under this complaint we bring,

And both shall cease[182], 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[186] upon your wife?

BERTRAM    She’s none of mine, my lord.

DIANA    If you shall marry,

You give away this hand[189], 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[192],

That she which marries you must marry me,

Either both or none.

To Bertram

LAFEW    Your reputation comes too short for my

daughter. You are no husband for her.

BERTRAM    My lord, this is a fond[197] 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[201]

Till your deeds gain them[202]: 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 say’st thou to her?

BERTRAM    She’s impudent[208], my lord,

And was a common gamester[209] to the camp.

DIANA    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,

Shows a ring

Whose high respect and rich validity[213]

Did lack a parallel.[214] Yet for all that

He gave it to a commoner[215] o’th’camp,

If I be one.

COUNTESS    He blushes, and ’tis hit.[217]

Of[218] six preceding ancestors, that gem,

Conferred by testament to th’sequent issue[219],

Hath it been owed[220] and worn. This is his wife,

That ring’s a thousand proofs.

KING    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[225]: his name’s Parolles.

LAFEW    I saw the man today, if man he be.

KING    Find him, and bring him hither.

[Exit an Attendant]

BERTRAM    What of him?

He’s quoted for a most perfidious[229] slave

With all the spots o’th’world taxed and deboshed[230],

Whose nature sickens but[231] to speak a truth.

Am I or that or this for[232] 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[236] way of youth.

She knew her distance[237] and did angle for me,

Madding[238] my eagerness with her restraint,

As all impediments in fancy’s[239] course

Are motives of more fancy. And in fine,

Her insuite cunning, with her modern[241] grace,

Subdued me to her rate[242]: she got the ring,

And I had that which any inferior might

At market-price have bought.

DIANA    I must be patient.

You, that have turned[246] off a first so noble wife,

May justly diet[247] 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    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[256] false, you threw it him

Out of a casement.

DIANA    I have spoke the truth.

Enter Parolles

BERTRAM    My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.

KING    You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts[260] you.

Is this the man you speak of?

DIANA    Ay, my lord.

To Parolles

KING    Tell me, sirrah — but tell me true, I charge you,

Not fearing the displeasure of your master,

Which on your just proceeding[265] I’ll keep off —

By[266] him and by this woman here what know you?

PAROLLES    So please your majesty, my master hath been an

honourable gentleman. Tricks[268] he hath had in him, which

gentlemen have.

KING    Come, come, to th’purpose: did he love this woman?

PAROLLES    Faith, sir, he did love her, but how?

KING    How, I pray you?

PAROLLES    He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.

KING    How is that?

PAROLLES    He loved her, sir, and loved her not.[275]

KING    As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an

equivocal companion[277] is this!

PAROLLES    I am a poor man, and at your majesty’s command.

LAFEW    He’s a good drum, my lord, but a naughty[279] orator.

DIANA    Do you know he promised me marriage?

PAROLLES    Faith, I know more than I’ll speak.

KING    But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?

PAROLLES    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[285]

and I know not what. Yet I was in that credit with them[286] at

that time that I knew of their going to bed, and of other

motions[288], as promising her marriage, and things which

would derive[289] 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[292] 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.

LAFEW    This woman’s an easy glove, my lord: she goes off[304]

and on at pleasure.[305]

KING    This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.

DIANA    It might be yours or hers, for aught[307] I know.

KING    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    Take her away.

DIANA    I’ll put in[314] bail, my liege.

KING    I think thee now some common customer.[315]

DIANA    By Jove, if ever I knew[316] 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.

Points to Lafew

KING    She does abuse our ears. To prison with her.

DIANA    Good mother, fetch my bail.— Stay, royal sir.

[Exit Widow]

The jeweller that owes[325] the ring is sent for,

And he shall surety me. But for[326] this lord

Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,

Though yet he never harmed me, here I quit[328] 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[332],

And now behold the meaning.

Enter Helen and Widow

KING    Is there no exorcist

Beguiles the truer office[335] of mine eyes?

Is’t real that I see?

HELEN    No, my good lord,

’Tis but the shadow[338] 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[341] this maid,

I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring,

And, look you, here’s your letter. This it says:

Shows letter

‘When from my finger you can get this ring

And are by me with child’, etc. This is done:

Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?

BERTRAM    If she, my liege, can make me know[347] this clearly,

I’ll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

HELEN    If it appear not plain and prove untrue,

Deadly divorce[350] step between me and you!

O my dear mother, do I see you living?

LAFEW    Mine eyes smell onions. I shall weep anon:

To Parolles

Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher.[353] So. I

thank thee. Wait on me home, I’ll make sport[354] with thee.

Let thy court’sies[355] alone, they are scurvy ones.

KING    Let us from point to point this story know,

To make the even[357] 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[362]

Resolvedly[363] more leisure shall express.

All yet seems well, and if it end so meet[364],

The bitter past[365], more welcome is the sweet.

Flourish

[Epilogue]

The king’s a beggar now the play is done.

All is well ended if this suit be won,

That you express content[368], which we will pay

With strife to please you, day exceeding[369] day.

Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts[370],

Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.[371]

Exeunt

TEXTUAL NOTES

F = First Folio text of 1623, the only authority for the play

F2 = a correction introduced in the Second Folio text of 1632

F3 = a correction introduced in the Third Folio text of 1663–64

F4 = a correction introduced in the Fourth Folio text of 1685

Ed = a correction introduced by a later editor

SD = stage direction

SH = speech heading (i.e. speaker’s name)

List of parts = Ed

1.1.1 SH COUNTESS = Ed. F = Mother 3 SH BERTRAM = Ed. F = Ros. 122 got = F2. F = goe 148 wear = Ed. F = were 159 traitress = F2. F = Traitoresse

1.2.4 SH FIRST LORD = Ed. F = 1.Lo.G. 19 SH SECOND LORD = Ed. F = 2.Lo.E 23 Rossillion = F2. F = Rosignoll

1.3.2 SH REYNALDO = Ed. F = Ste. 11 SH LAVATCH = Ed. F = Clo. 16 I = F2. F = w 22 bairns spelled barnes in F 67 F omits this line, but prints ‘bis’ (Latin for ‘twice’) at the end of the preceding line 78 ere = Ed. F = ore 100 Dian no queen = Ed. F = Queene 114 rightly = Ed. F = righlie 164 t’one = F2. F = ’ton tooth 193 intenible = F2. F = intemible 228 Haply spelled Happily in F 241 and = F2. F = an

2.1.6 SH FIRST LORD = Ed. F = Lord. G. 19 SH SECOND LORD = Ed. F = L.G. 28 SH SECOND LORD = Ed. F = 2.Lo.E. 45 with his cicatrice = Ed. F = his sicatrice, with 65 fee = Ed. F = see 100 SD Enter Helen = Ed. One line later in F 165 impostor = F3. F = Impostrue 185 nay = Ed. F = ne 205 heaven = Ed. F = helpe

2.2.1 SH COUNTESS = Ed. F = Lady. (F also uses Count., Lad., Old La. and La.) 54 An = Ed. F = And 59 legs = F2. F = legegs

2.3.1 SH LAFEW = Ed. F = Ol. Laf. 96 her = F2. F = heere 133 it is = F2. F = is is 211 thou’rt = F3. F = th’ourt 263 SD Enter Count Rossillion = Ed. One line earlier in F 288 detested = Ed. F = detected

2.5.17 Ay, ‘sir’, he ‘Sir’ ’s = Ed. F = I sir, hee sirs 26 End = Ed. F = And 28 one = Ed. F = on 30 heard = F2. F = hard

3.1.11 SH SECOND LORD = Ed. F = French E. 20 SH FIRST LORD = Ed. F = Fren. G. 27 th’field = F2. F = th the field

3.2.8 sold = F3. F = hold 18 E’en = Ed. F = In

3.4.1 SH COUNTESS = Ed. Not in F 4 SH REYNALDO = Ed. Not in F 7 have = F2. F = hane 18 SH COUNTESS = Ed. Not in F 23 SH REYNALDO = Ed. F = Ste.

3.5.0 SD Diana = Ed. F = Violenta 30 are you = F2. F = are 31 le = Ed. F = la

3.6.1 SH SECOND LORD = Ed. F = Cap. E. 3 SH FIRST LORD = Ed. F = Cap. G. 30 his = Ed. F = this 31 ore = Ed. F = ours

3.7.22 Resolves = F2. F = Resolve 38 After = F. F2 = After this 46 steads = F4. F = steeds

4.1.1 SH FIRST LORD = F (1 Lord E.). Lo.E for remainder of scene, perhaps because Shakespeare has forgotten that elsewhere first lord is G and second is E 6 captain = F3. F = Captaiue 86 art = F3. F = are

4.2.45 scar spelled scarre in F

4.3.128 All’s … him assigned to Parolles in F 219 the = F2. F = your 254 cardecue = F2. F = Cardceue

4.4.18 you = F4. F = your

5.2.1 Monsieur = Ed. F = Mr 29 under her = F2. F = vnder

5.3.67 count spelled compt in F 117 Plutus = Ed. F = Platus 139 tax = F2. F = taze 158 SH KING = Ed. Not in F 173 sith = Ed. F = sir 176 SD Diana = Ed. F = Diana, and Parolles 241 cunning = Ed. F = comming 345 are = Ed. F = is 369 strife = F2. F = strift

SCENE-BY-SCENE ANALYSIS

ACT 1 SCENE 1

Lines 1–74: The widowed Countess of Rossillion is saying goodbye to her son, Bertram, who has been summoned by the King of France, his legal guardian. Lafew reports that the virtuous King is very ill and has given up his doctors’ attempts to cure him of a painful fistula. The Countess laments that Helen’s father, the renowned physician, Gerard de Narbon, is dead, believing that his skill would have cured the King. She is full of praise for Helen, who was entrusted to the Countess’ care after her father’s death. Helen is weeping. The Countess offers her son advice on how to behave at court, wishes him well and leaves. Bertram asks Helen to comfort and look after his mother and then departs with Lafew.

Lines 75–215: Now alone, Helen confides that her tears are not for her father but for the departure of Bertram whom she loves. She says she cannot live without him but she might as well “love a bright particular star” and think to marry that as Bertram since “he is so above me.” She’s tormented by her love for one who is her social superior. Despite her pain, she enjoyed seeing him all the time and drawing a picture of him in her heart. Now she has only these “relics” to remember him by. She sees Bertram’s friend Parolles and says that even though she knows he’s a coward and a liar she likes him for Bertram’s sake. He asks her if she’s thinking about “virginity” and they conduct a bawdy exchange about its merits with Helen defending it and Parolles believing it overrated. She turns the conversation obliquely to Bertram and her wishes. Parolles is called away and Helen accuses him of cowardice. He advises her to get a husband. Once he’s gone, Helen argues in a soliloquy that an individual’s fate lies in their own hands. She has a plan relating to the King and is determined to carry it through.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

The King reports that Florence and Siena are at war but are equally matched. France is not going to aid the Florentines but French knights will be allowed to fight on either side if they choose. Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles arrive. The King welcomes them, praising Bertram’s late father who was an old friend and regretting his own ill health, asking how long ago Bertram’s father’s doctor (Helen’s late father) died, believing that he might have cured him.

ACT 1 SCENE 3

Lines 1–111: The Countess and Reynaldo the Steward are about to discuss Helen when the Countess notices the Clown Lavatch. He explains that he wants to get married; his reasons are desires of the flesh, repentance, and to make “friends.” He goes on to offer a paradoxical justification for adultery and the Countess says she’ll speak to him later. She tells him to ask Helen to come to her and Lavatch sings a song about Helen of Troy. The Countess complains about his corruption of the song and abuse of women and sends him again for Helen. When Lavatch is gone, Reynaldo explains how he recently overheard Helen saying that she loves Bertram and feels bitter that the social distance between them means they can never marry. The Countess says she is not surprised and thanks Reynaldo for his “honest care” as he leaves.

Lines 112–252: As Helen enters, the Countess exclaims in an aside, “Even so it was with me when I was young” and she goes on to register her sympathy for Helen. She calls herself Helen’s “mother” but Helen rejects the idea. When asked her reason, she’s confused, saying she can’t be Bertram’s sister, she’s too humble, and he mustn’t be her brother. The Countess says that Helen could be her daughter-in-law then. Helen’s reaction assures her that she has discovered the secret of her love for Bertram. Helen is reluctant to confess but the Countess is determined to learn the truth. Helen admits that she loves her son and begs the Countess’ pardon but says she cannot help it—her love does Bertram no harm. The Countess then asks why she wants to go to Paris. Helen admits that she believes she can cure the King, having inherited her father’s skill. The Countess gives her blessing and offers her aid for the enterprise.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

Lines 1–63: The King is saying goodbye to the young lords going to fight in the Italian wars. He encourages them to fight bravely and be honorable and warns them against love. As the King goes aside to speak with the lords, Bertram complains that he isn’t allowed to go—the King’s told him he’s “Too young” and he can go “the next year.” The other lords sympathize. Parolles recalls his previous experiences of war and, telling Bertram to be “more expressive” with his goodbyes to them, they go off.

Lines 64–223: Lafew tells the King that a young woman has arrived who believes she can cure him. The King agrees to see her. Helen enters and Lafew leaves them alone. Helen explains that she’s the only child of Gerard de Narbon and that on his death he left her his secret medical recipes. The King is initially reluctant but Helen eventually convinces him to let her try, guaranteeing that he will be cured within forty-eight hours and if he isn’t, she’s prepared to die. If she succeeds she asks only that she may be allowed to choose her own husband, promising not to choose one of royal blood. The King agrees to her terms.

ACT 2 SCENE 2

A short comic scene between the Countess and Lavatch, in which he boasts that he has an answer for all questions and occasions and she goes along with him, playing his stooge. His fit-all response turns out to be “O lord, sir!” Finally she sends him off with a letter for Helen and greetings to Bertram.

ACT 2 SCENE 3

Lines 1–149: Lafew, Bertram, and Parolles are discussing the King’s recovery in terms of miracle versus science. The King, now cured, enters with Helen. He confirms the bargain they struck and has his young lords line up for Helen to choose a husband. She rejects the other young men and selects Bertram who is shocked and resentful, complaining that he wishes to choose his own wife. He knows Helen well and believes marriage to her would bring him social disgrace. The King says if that’s his only objection, he can ennoble her, and goes on to point out that she is “young, wise, fair,” all qualities that breed “honour,” which should be derived from the individual’s acts rather than noble ancestry.

Lines 150–260: When she realizes that Bertram doesn’t want to marry her, Helen offers to give up the agreement, but the King insists, believing his own “honour” is “at the stake.” Bertram submits to his authority and agrees to the marriage. Everyone but Parolles and Lafew leaves to witness the ceremony. Lafew compliments Parolles’ “lord and master” on his “recantation,” by agreeing to the King’s wishes. Parolles objects to these terms to describe himself and says he’d challenge Lafew for insulting him if he weren’t so old. Lafew now realizes Parolles is a fool, which he’d suspected from his showy clothes and, continuing to insult him, leaves. Parolles vows he’ll be revenged, however old and however much a lord Lafew is, when the opportunity presents itself. Lafew returns to say that Bertram is married and Parolles now has a “new mistress.” Parolles, however, claims that while Bertram is his “good lord,” he serves the one “above,” but Lafew says it’s not God he serves but the devil. He tells Parolles he’s a worthless “vagabond” and leaves.

Lines 261–96: Bertram returns, complaining that he’s ruined and determined that even though he’s married to Helen, he’ll go to the wars and “never bed her.” Parolles encourages him in his decision, calling France a “dog-hole” and saying that to gain honor a man should go to the wars to fight rather than hug his “kicky-wicky [wife] here at home.” Bertram says he’ll send Helen back to his mother, telling her how much he hates Helen, and spend the money given him by the King to equip himself for the war, since war is preferable to a “dark house” and “detested wife.” Parolles tells him it’s the right decision: “A young man married is a man that’s marred.”

ACT 2 SCENE 4

Helen is reading the letter delivered by Lavatch from the Countess. He gives a riddling response to Helen’s inquiries about her. Parolles arrives and after a comic exchange with Lavatch tells Helen that she is to return to the Countess at once since Bertram is detained on “very serious business.” She says she’ll do whatever Bertram wishes.

ACT 2 SCENE 5

Lines 1–51: Lafew is discussing Parolles with Bertram who assures him that Parolles is a “valiant” soldier. Lafew is unconvinced and continues to mock Parolles. Bertram asks if Helen is going away as he has ordered her to and Parolles confirms that she is. Bertram says he will leave for the wars himself then. Parolles denies that there is any ill feeling between himself and Lafew and Bertram is convinced that Lafew is mistaken in his estimate of his friend. Lafew’s opinion is that “The soul of this man is his clothes” though, and he warns Bertram not to trust him in important matters. Parolles dismisses Lafew as an “idle lord” and Bertram agrees. Seeing Helen coming toward him, Bertram exclaims: “Here comes my clog.”

Lines 52–98: Helen says she has spoken to the King who has given her permission to leave, but he wishes to speak to Bertram. Bertram says he’ll do as he asks. He then excuses himself, saying he wasn’t prepared for “such a business” and is “unsettled.” He asks her to go home and gives her a letter for his mother. He’ll see her in two days. She repeats that she knows she isn’t worthy but would ask a small thing of him. She changes her mind and then says, “Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss,” but he tells her to hurry. After she’s gone, he vows he’ll never go home while he can “shake [his] sword or hear the drum.”

ACT 3 SCENE 1

The Duke of Florence has explained the cause of the war to the two French lords. They agree that it seems a just war on his part but cannot say why the French king refused to ally France with Florence, however they are sure that the young French knights will all want to fight with him. The Duke says they will be welcome and he will honor them.

ACT 3 SCENE 2

Lines 1–29: Lavatch has told the Countess about recent events in Paris. She’s delighted with the way things have turned out, except that Bertram hasn’t returned with Helen. Lavatch describes him as “a very melancholy man.” The Countess reads the letter from her son while Lavatch explains that he no longer wishes to marry, having seen the women at court. He leaves and, now alone, the Countess reads Bertram’s letter aloud in which he says that he’s “wedded” but not “bedded” Helen and never intends to. He has “run away” and wants her to know the truth from him first. She’s disgusted by his impetuous, immature behavior, which shows contempt for the King’s favor and Helen’s virtue.

Lines 30–64: Lavatch returns to tell the Countess that Helen and two lords have returned with bad news. Helen says Bertram has run away and the lords confirm that he has gone to fight for the Duke of Florence. Helen relates Bertram’s letter to her which says he’ll never be her husband until she can “get the ring upon my finger” and prove that she’s pregnant by him: “show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to.” The Countess tells Helen to cheer up—half the griefs are hers since he’s her son, but now she washes her hands of him and Helen is her only child.

Lines 65–132: The Countess inquires if Bertram has gone to Florence to be a soldier and the lords confirm it and assure her that the Duke of Florence will honor him. Helen bitterly quotes another line from Bertram’s letter which says, “Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.” The lords try to make light of the words, but the Countess exclaims that there’s nothing in France too good for him except Helen, who deserves a lord that twenty such “rude boys” might serve. She asks who is with Bertram, if it’s Parolles, and when the lords admit it is, calls him “A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.” He is a bad influence on Bertram. She gives them a message for her son, to say that he can never win “The honour that he loses” by his sword. She asks them to take a letter from her. Alone, Helen repeats Bertram’s words and is shocked that her presence has driven him away to war, where he may be hurt or killed. Fearful for his safety, she decides that she must leave France that night.

ACT 3 SCENE 3

The Duke of Florence promotes Bertram to “general of our horse.” Bertram says it is too great an honor but he’ll try to live up to it. The Duke wishes him well and he says he will follow Mars, love war and hate love.

ACT 3 SCENE 4

The Countess questions why Reynaldo took the letter from Helen, since he must have known what she would do. She asks him to read it again. In her letter Helen says she has decided to tread the pilgrim way of Saint Jaques to repent her sin of “Ambitious love” and begs the Countess to write that her own departure has brought Bertram back safe from the war. She asks the Countess to beg Bertram’s forgiveness. He is too good to die and she would prefer her own death to set him free. The Countess says Reynaldo should have brought her the letter last night so that Helen could be persuaded against this course of action, but he replies that Helen has written that pursuit would be in vain. The Countess does not believe her son—“this unworthy husband”—can thrive except through Helen’s prayers. She asks Reynaldo to write to Bertram telling him of Helen’s worth and her departure, in the hope that he may return and Helen may also out of “pure love.” She cannot say which of the two she loves best and is overcome with sorrow.

ACT 3 SCENE 5

Lines 1–80: The Widow and her daughter, Diana, are discussing the French count’s valor in the war. Mariana warns her against him and the Widow explains how she has been “solicited” by his friend. Mariana says she knows who Diana means, “One Parolles,” a “filthy officer,” and again warns Diana to beware of them. Diana reassures her that she has no need to worry on her account. Helen enters, disguised as a pilgrim, asking where the “palmers” (pilgrims) lodge, and the Widow confirms it’s at her house. They guess she’s from France and tell her that one of her countrymen has fought valiantly in the war and name the Count of Rossillion. Helen says she knows him by name only. They report that he left France because he had been married against his will and ask Helen if she knows anything about it. Helen says she knows the lady and Diana says that Parolles speaks “but coarsely of her.” Helen says the lady is chaste and honest and the women pity her. The Widow says her daughter could do the lady a “shrewd” (malicious) turn if she chose and Helen guesses that he has tried to seduce Diana. The Widow says her daughter is able to defend herself against his advances.

Lines 81–112: Bertram, Parolles, and the whole army pass across the stage. As they parade by, the Widow points out who is who and Diana points to Bertram. She asks Helen whether he is not “a handsome gentleman” and Helen replies, “I like him well.” They point out Parolles—“That jackanapes with scarves”—who is muttering about “Los[ing] our drum!” When they have passed by the Widow says she will show Helen where she is to lodge. Helen thanks her and invites mother and daughter to eat with her, at her expense, and she will give Diana some advice. They agree and go off together.

ACT 3 SCENE 6

The two French lords are trying to convince Bertram that he is deceived about Parolles, who is nothing but a coward and a liar. Bertram wonders how it can be proved and the French lords hatch a plot for him to go and recover his drum. They meanwhile will capture and blindfold him, pretending to be the enemy, and they are convinced that if Bertram is present at his interrogation, he’ll soon change his opinion of his friend. They convince Bertram to encourage Parolles to attempt to recover the drum. Parolles enters still complaining about the loss of the drum and volunteers to go and get it back. One of the lords goes after Parolles while the other goes with Bertram to see Diana, whose only “fault” he says is that “she’s honest.”

ACT 3 SCENE 7

Helen has explained her true identity to the Widow, who explains that though she’s poor, she’s honest and was “well born.” Helen reassures her that she will not be involved in anything that might damage her or Diana’s reputation but begs their help in winning her husband. She wants Diana to ask Bertram for his ring and then to make an assignation with him, which she herself will keep rather than Diana. Helen has already given them money and agrees to give Diana a further “three thousand crowns” when she marries. The Widow agrees, and Helen justifies the deceit as “wicked meaning in a lawful deed / And lawful meaning in a lawful act.”

ACT 4 SCENE 1

Lines 1–59: The French lord and soldiers plan to trap Parolles. They must speak in some “terrible language” so that he can’t understand them. One of the soldiers, whose voice Parolles doesn’t know, volunteers to act as “interpreter.” Parolles enters, meditating with himself what he will say when he returns. He fears that his tongue has been “too foolhardy” and has run away with him but he is too frightened to carry out his boasts. He cannot understand how he volunteered for this mission, which they all knew was impossible. He will have to pretend to have been hurt, but they’ll scorn small injuries and he daren’t give himself larger ones. He decides he’ll have to keep his tongue quiet in future if it gets him into trouble. Parolles works through a list of the things he might do to prove that he’s been wounded, dismissing each. The soldiers meanwhile comment in satirical asides on his character.

Lines 60–94: An “Alarum” (call to arms) sounds and the soldiers jump and blindfold a terrified Parolles. They talk nonsense to him. He says he’ll tell them what he knows and the soldier who volunteered to be “interpreter” conducts a comic dialogue, pretending to interpret their gobbledygook. He says he’ll tell them “all the secrets of our camp.” They lead him off still blindfolded and send for Bertram to witness his interrogation.

ACT 4 SCENE 2

Lines 1–46: Bertram is trying to persuade Diana that she should sleep with him, arguing that virginity is no use to the dead, that she should be like her mother, when Diana was conceived. Diana counters that her mother was doing her duty since she was married and that Bertram owes such a duty to his wife. He objects that he was forced to marry against his will but it’s Diana he loves and vows he will always love and serve her. Diana says that men say that to gain their sexual desires but then such vows mean nothing. Bertram continues to try to convince her to lose her virginity to him but she refuses him, saying that men only try to trap women. Then she asks for his ring.

Lines 47–86: Bertram says he can’t give her the ring since it’s a family heirloom and it would be shameful to lose it. Diana counters his argument, saying that her honor’s “such a ring,” that her “chastity’s the jewel of our house,” and that it would be equally shameful to lose that. He is persuaded and gives her the ring and vows his “house,” “honour,” and “life” are all hers and he’ll do what she asks. She tells him to come to her at midnight. After giving him her virginity, he can only remain one hour and he must not speak to her. She will explain her reasons when his ring is returned to him and she will give him a ring which will be a token of past deeds in the future. She ambiguously claims that he has “won / A wife of me.” He believes he has won “A heaven on earth” and leaves. Diana reflects that her mother told her just what he’d say and do and for herself she’d rather stay single; however, she doesn’t think it’s a sin to deceive him in this way since he would cheat her.

ACT 4 SCENE 3

Lines 1–68: The French lords are discussing Bertram and his reaction to a letter from his mother. They say he is blamed for his treatment of Helen which has displeased the king. The first lord confides how Bertram has seduced “a young gentlewoman” in Florence and given her his ring. He will be back after midnight and they decide to postpone their interrogation of Parolles till then so that Bertram can see for himself how poor his judgment has been. In the meanwhile, peace has been concluded between the combatants. They question what Bertram will do now, whether he will continue his travels or return to France. He has been told of Helen’s flight and pilgrimage to Saint Jaques and that she is now dead. They think it a pity that he will be glad of such news and reflect on the paradox that his valor as a soldier is countermanded by his domestic shame, reflecting further that “The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.”

Lines 69–106: Bertram’s servant appears and they ask where his master is. He replies that he is saying farewell to the Duke of Florence since he is going to France in the morning. Bertram then enters and explains that he has been busy saying farewell to the Duke and his friends, burying and mourning a wife, writing to his mother, organizing his return, and “many nicer deeds,” concluding that the last was the “greatest” but isn’t yet finished. He’s now ready for the “dialogue between the fool and the soldier.” Parolles, who has been in the stocks all night, is sent for. He has been weeping like a woman and has confessed everything right up to the present. Bertram is concerned about what Parolles has said of him.

Lines 107–309: They interrogate the still-blindfolded Parolles in a comic nonsense language with one soldier interpreting throughout. Parolles immediately betrays all the secrets of the army. Bertram is shocked and disgusted by his former friend and mentor’s performance. They search him for letters and find a “sonnet” from Parolles to Diana about Bertram, calling him a “dangerous and lascivious boy” and advising her not to trust him. They threaten him with hanging and Parolles begs for his life, to live under any conditions. They ask him about the characters of the French lords and of Bertram and he betrays and insults them all. They finally remove his blindfold and Parolles sees that he has been duped and asks plaintively, “Who cannot be crushed with a plot?” They leave him promising to reveal his impudence in France. Parolles is undaunted, claiming he doesn’t care. He’s glad and won’t be a captain any longer. He’ll just be himself: “Simply the thing I am / Shall make me live.”

ACT 4 SCENE 4

Helen assures the Widow and Diana that she has not wronged them and says that they must go and kneel before the King who is at Marseille. They willingly agree to do as she asks. Helen reflects on the strangeness of men who can “such sweet use make of what they hate.” She regrets that Diana will have more to suffer for her sake but believes that her end is justified.

ACT 4 SCENE 5

Lafew and the Countess are discussing recent events with Lavatch present. Lafew claims that Bertram was led astray by Parolles. The Countess says her grief is for the death of Helen whom she could not have loved more if she’d been Helen’s real mother. Lafew and Lavatch continue a conversation full of the Clown’s witty banter until Lafew sends him away. The Countess says that Bertram is amused by him and he’s allowed to stay but gets carried away with his wit. Lafew then says that since Helen’s dead, he suggested to the King that Bertram should marry his daughter. The King agreed to his proposition and he wondered what the Countess thought of it. She too is content. The King is to arrive from Marseille the next day. Lavatch returns to say that Bertram has arrived, wearing a velvet patch on his left cheek.

ACT 5 SCENE 1

Helen, the Widow, and Diana have arrived at Marseille and Helen asks the gentleman keeper of the King’s hawks (the Astringer) to present the King with a petition, only to be told that the King has already left for Rossillion. Since he’s going to Rossillion himself, she asks the Astringer again to present the petition to the King for her; he’ll be well rewarded and they will follow.

ACT 5 SCENE 2

Parolles asks Lavatch to deliver a letter from him to Lafew. Lavatch complains that he smells and tells him to deliver it himself since Lafew is here. Parolles asks Lafew to help him since it was he who first “found” him out. Lafew says he will see him after; he can hear the King’s trumpets, but even though he’s “a fool and a knave” he shall still eat.

ACT 5 SCENE 3

Lines 1–64: The King is discussing Helen with the Countess. He regrets her death and Bertram’s folly. The Countess puts it down to his youth and asks for him to be forgiven. Lafew adds that he wronged everyone, especially himself, through the loss of such a wife. The King sends for Bertram and asks what his response was to the proposed match with Lafew’s daughter. Lafew says Bertram was content to do as the King wished. Bertram enters and the King tells him that he is “not a day of season,” meaning that his moods are changeable and now his anger has passed. Bertram begs his pardon and the King says he is forgiven. He then reminds him of Lafew’s daughter. Bertram says that he always admired her before his judgment was warped by contempt. Understanding how he has misjudged things, he has finally come to love the woman everyone praised and he, since he has lost her, has learned to love.

Lines 65–116: The King is pleased to hear of Bertram’s love for Helen, even though it comes too late. He reflects how often we fail to value what we have until we’ve lost it. And now he advises Bertram to forget Helen and think of Maudlin (Lafew’s daughter). Lafew asks for a token to give his daughter from Bertram and Bertram gives him a ring. Lafew says he last saw it on Helen’s hand, but Bertram denies it belonged to Helen. The King then says that he gave it to her himself, adding that if she was ever in need, by this token he would help her. The King wonders how Bertram acquired it. Bertram assures the King it didn’t belong to Helen. Both the Countess and Lafew assure Bertram that they saw her wear it, but Bertram explains it was thrown to him wrapped in paper from a casement window in Florence by a lady who refused to have it back.

Lines 117–69: The King intervenes to say that he knows the ring; it was his, he gave it to Helen, and she swore that she would never take it from her finger except to give it to Bertram in her bed or to send it to the King. Bertram says she never saw it, but the King says he is lying, and the King is now full of doubt and fear about Helen’s fate. He orders Bertram to be detained; he will investigate the matter further. As he is led away Bertram says the King can as easily prove the ring was Helen’s as that he had sex with her in Florence, where she’d never been. The King is full of anxiety. The Gentleman hawk-keeper arrives and gives him the petition from Diana which claims that she has been seduced by Bertram. Lafew says he no longer wants Bertram for a son-in-law after this—he’d rather buy himself one “in a fair.” The King sends for the Widow and Diana and for Bertram again.

Lines 170–255: The King voices his fear that Helen was murdered. Diana and her mother enter. Bertram admits that he knows them but that’s all. Diana asks him why he treats his wife like a stranger, but he denies that she’s his wife. When asked if he does not believe he took her virginity, he claims she’s a common prostitute. She then holds up the ring that Bertram gave her. The Countess recognizes it as a family heirloom and says it’s proof that Diana is his wife. Parolles is sent for as a witness to the truth of this. Bertram now says that everyone knows Parolles is a liar, but the King points out that Diana has Bertram’s ring. Bertram admits he had sex with her. She says she will return his ring if he will give her hers again. When asked what ring, she says it was like the one the King is wearing and she gave it to Bertram in bed.

Lines 256–333: Bertram admits the ring was Diana’s. Parolles confirms that he acted as go-between for Bertram to Diana. The King asks Diana how she came by the ring and she says she neither bought it nor was loaned nor gave it. They cannot understand her riddling words and the King is about to send her to prison when she asks her mother to “fetch my bail.” She says that even though he thinks he did, Bertram never harmed her and she forgives him. He believes that he had sex with her but he actually made his wife pregnant. Even though she’s dead, his wife “feels her young one kick.” Her riddle is: “one that’s dead is quick,” and she invites them all to “behold the meaning” as Helen and the Widow appear.

Lines 334–65: Everyone is amazed. Helen tells Bertram she is the “shadow of a wife” he sees, “The name and not the thing.” He replies that she is both and begs her pardon. She says that when he thought she was Diana, he was kind to her, and she shows him the letter and the ring, asking him if he will be hers now he is “doubly won.” He says if she can explain it all to him, he’ll love her forever. She says if it isn’t clear, he can have a divorce. Lafew asks Parolles for a handkerchief and promises to joke with him. The King demands to know the full story from Diana and says that if she’s a virgin, she can choose herself a husband and he’ll pay her dowry, since he guesses it was with her help that Helen was able to win Bertram. They will learn the rest in due time, meanwhile everything “seems well” and since it’s ending so fittingly, the bitterness of past experiences makes the present sweetness more welcome.

EPILOGUE

The King speaks a short epilogue in which he says that he is now a beggar as he asks the audience, if they are pleased with the play, for applause—“Your gentle hands”—while the players offer their “hearts.”

ALL’S WELL

THAT ENDS WELL

IN PERFORMANCE:

THE RSC AND BEYOND

The best way to understand a Shakespeare play is to see it or ideally to participate in it. By examining a range of productions, we may gain a sense of the extraordinary variety of approaches and interpretations that are possible—a variety that gives Shakespeare his unique capacity to be reinvented and made “our contemporary” four centuries after his death.

We begin with a brief overview of the play’s theatrical and cinematic life, offering historical perspectives on how it has been performed. We then analyze in more detail a series of productions staged over the last half-century by the Royal Shakespeare Company. The sense of dialogue between productions that can only occur when a company is dedicated to the revival and investigation of the Shakespeare canon over a long period, together with the uniquely comprehensive archival resource of promptbooks, program notes, reviews, and interviews held on behalf of the RSC at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-upon-Avon, allows an “RSC stage history” to become a crucible in which the chemistry of the play can be explored.

Finally, we go to the horse’s mouth. Modern theater is dominated by the figure of the director, who must hold together the whole play, whereas the actor must concentrate on his or her part. The director’s viewpoint is therefore especially valuable. Shakespeare’s plasticity is wonderfully revealed when we hear directors of highly successful productions answering the same questions in very different ways. We also hear from an actor about his experience of playing Parolles in a much praised performance.

FOUR CENTURIES OF ALL’S WELL: AN OVERVIEW

Despite its catchy, proverbial title, the unconventional characters and plot of All’s Well That Ends Well have won it few admirers and often evoked negative responses to the play from the time it was written in the early seventeenth century until at least the middle of the twentieth. There is no evidence of any performance before the closure of the theaters in 1642 and, although it was assigned to Thomas Killigrew’s King’s Company in 1660 after the Restoration, it wasn’t staged until Henry Giffard’s production at Goodman’s Fields Theatre in 1741 when Shakespeare’s comedies were becoming popular once more. Giffard played Bertram with his wife as Helen and Joseph Petersen as Parolles. The braggart soldier became a favorite part with actors thereafter and the focus on which many subsequent revivals and adaptations were based.

The following year the play acquired a reputation as “the unfortunate comedy” when it was put on at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, for the first time. Milward playing the King caught cold and died shortly after, while Peg Woffington as Helen was taken ill and fainted onstage. Theophilus Cibber played Parolles to great acclaim, although the part had originally been assigned to Charles Macklin which caused further ill-feeling in the company. Henry Woodward, who took over as Parolles in Giffard’s Covent Garden production of 1746, was so successful that he continued to play the part for the next thirty years. He reprised the role in David Garrick’s 1756 adaptation, which was built around his performance and emphasized the play’s farcical elements. John Bannister’s 1785 revival at the Haymarket went even further, virtually eliminating Helen and the first three acts. Neither were well received, though, and John Philip Kemble’s 1793 adaptation shifted the focus back to Helen, played by Dorothy Jordan, with himself as Bertram and Bannister again playing Parolles.

Charles Kemble mounted a spectacular production in 1811 at Covent Garden, using his brother’s text, which received good reviews but, despite this and an excellent cast, it was revived for only one further performance. Kemble’s script had emphasized the play’s romantic elements; the next adaptation, Frederick Reynolds’s operatic version for Covent Garden in 1832, attempted to excise those aspects of the play considered tasteless and to replace them with musical extracts from more popular Shakespeare plays such as A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Twelfth Night, but to little avail as both public and critics still found the play unacceptable.

Samuel Phelps played Parolles himself in his 1852 Sadler’s Wells production to general acclaim, despite continued critical carping about the “rude nature of its plot” and “exceedingly gross” manners.[25] Henry Irving’s amateur production at St. George’s Hall in 1895 likewise failed to please, despite his efforts to render the play fit for Victorian audiences by extensive cuts: “The text had been so carefully bowdlerised for the Irving Club that the story would scarcely have been comprehensible to any one who did not know it beforehand.”[26] George Bernard Shaw, similarly exercised about the textual cuts, was equally scathing about the leading performances:

The cool young woman, with a superior understanding, excellent manners, and a habit of reciting Shakespear, [sic] presented before us by Miss Olive Kennett, could not conceivably have been even Helena’s thirty-second cousin. Miss Lena Heinekey, with the most beautiful old woman’s part ever written in her hands, discovered none of its wonderfully pleasant good sense, humanity, and originality … Mr Lewin-Mannering did not for any instant make it possible to believe that Parolles was a real person to him.[27]

The actor-manager Frank Benson finally produced All’s Well for the Shakespeare Theatre in 1916—after thirty-five years this and Titus Andronicus were the only two plays which had never been produced at Stratford. Benson himself played Parolles with his wife as Helen but the production was overshadowed by the celebrations of his recent knighthood:

The play was held up for some minutes by the unrestrained applause which greeted the appearance of the Bensons on stage. And Lady Benson noted that the audience joined with the cast in singing “Auld Lang Syne” at the end of the play. Understandably, All’s Well could not compete with its celebrated cast.[28]

Theater historian Joseph G. Price argues that productions of the play underwent a fundamental transformation in the twentieth century with the advent of the director, anxious to impose a coherent interpretation on the play as a whole: “The stage history of All’s Well in the twentieth century is, with a few exceptions, a record of attempts of directors to thread the brilliant parts with a unifying, appealing theme.”[29] The problem was that “theatrical tradition offered only remnants as guides, and scholarly analysis had failed to fashion a coherent pattern. The threading was difficult, and early experiments did little to change the general distaste for the play.”[30]

William Poel’s 1920 production at the Ethical Church, Bayswater, was certainly driven by a strong directorial line. Poel had founded the Elizabethan Stage Society which attempted to reproduce original stagings as far as possible for the plays of Shakespeare and his contemporaries. In All’s Well though he saw a play with a contemporary social message:

He saw a plea for the removal of class barriers where the affections between men and women were in question … For Poel the play had an ethical significance which gave it a place in the history of women’s emancipation; in 1919 this freedom had at last been won and the exploits of Miss Sylvia Pankhurst were a recent memory.[31]

However, Poel’s decision to emphasize the play’s serious elements and to use low lighting gave the production a somber tone that prompted the critic of the Athenaeum to comment that “Helena has her counterpart in Hamlet.”[32]

Robert Atkins’s production for the Old Vic in 1921 was judged “both interesting and disappointing.”[33] The set and lighting were praised but something was missing: “It is passionate power that Mr. Atkins fails habitually to get from his actors; he has, too, a sort of statuesque convention which he imposes on every play, as though Shakespeare could be played in talking tableaux.”[34] The pace of the production dragged; Jane Bacon’s Helen was too solemn and the comedy was underplayed: “Parolles discussing virginity with Helena, for example … Mr Ernest Milton got through this scene without once provoking a laugh; he played it like someone skating on very thin ice, as though he were trying to spare Helena’s blushes instead of provoking them.”[35]

Tastes were changing slowly, and the second Stratford production directed by William Bridges-Adams in 1922 proved no more successful than the first. Birmingham Repertory Theatre staged the first modern-dress production in 1927 with “the Countess swathed in the crêpe so loved by Gallic widows, and Helena beside her in the simplest of dresses to show a dependant’s humility.”[36] Bernard Shaw noted the “buoyant sense of humour” of Parolles, described by the critic J. C. Trewin as “an amiable, too smart young man, a sommelier’s scourge,” played by “a youth of nineteen, virile, heavy-eyebrowed, darkly handsome … His name was Laurence Olivier.”[37]

In 1935 Ben Iden Payne directed the third Stratford production which again failed to please. Robert Atkins was fortunate that in 1940 at the time of his third production it was the only play in London’s war-torn West End. Audience and critics were duly grateful but not bowled over. Catherine Lacey, who had played the Countess in the previous Stratford production, now played Helen to general acclaim, as “a creature from a fantastic story-book. You need not believe in her, but love her you must—and love her you will.”[38] Doubts were still expressed about the play itself though: “The plot proves untrue to the title by going from bad to worse; but the poetry, intermittently, goes from good to better.”[39] Needless to say, this view did not go unchallenged: “Mr. Robert Atkins should be praised and encouraged for his direction. But the play may now be put by for another twenty years without great loss. Anybody heard defending its poetry should be asked point-blank to quote two consecutive lines.”[40]

It was Tyrone Guthrie in 1953 at the Stratford Festival, Ontario, who finally succeeded in capturing the play’s divergent elements to create a coherent whole and establish its place in the modern repertoire:

The first [Stratford, Ontario] season’s Richard III provided the most exciting night in the history of Canadian theatre but the second night’s All’s Well That Ends Well topped it, and every other performance at Stratford since, in sheer theatrical magic, in its discovery of breathless beauty in a dark old Shakespearean comedy.[41]

Guthrie recognized its essential modernity and saw how he might translate this insight to the stage: “Helena might be the heroine of an Existentialist drama. She refuses to be passive; she will not resign herself to be what Simone de Beauvoir, in The Second Sex, calls ‘the prisoner of immanence.’ She takes a firm line with her fate.”[42] The production’s modern dress “did a great deal to explain Helena to the audience.”[43] Joseph G. Price expands on the point:

The fantastic turns of the plot, of Helena’s traps, became much more acceptable in modern dress to a contemporary audience which had been saturated with aggressive heroines, often “career women” who had won reluctant males in innumerable romantic comedy films during the 1930s and 1940s.[44]

Its staging suggests another “modern” aspect of the production. As film has largely superseded the theater in presenting “realism,” theater has returned to its roots, capitalizing on the immediacy of the actors’ presence to the audience. The aim of the set designer, Tanya Moiseiwitsch, was “to offer the facilities of an Elizabethan stage, but not to attempt an Elizabethan pseudo-antique style.”[45] All the performances were praised, but Irene Worth’s Helen was singled out:

In his skilful placing of emphasis Dr. Guthrie was immeasurably aided by some superb playing, particularly by Irene Worth as Helena. From her first silent entrance, gazing so longingly after Bertram, Miss Worth had power to move us to tears. She convinced us of her passion before ever she spoke, and we were committed to support her in every device she found to win her love.[46]

In the same year the Old Vic mounted a less successful production directed by Michael Benthall, who was accused by one critic of turning the play into “a cross between rollicking pantomime and fairytale.”[47] Benthall, who had set himself the task of performing all of Shakespeare’s plays in his five-year tenure at the Old Vic, did not much care for the play, and in order to make it palatable for modern audiences, aimed “to remove some of the bitter taste from the play and to give it instead a fairy-tale unreality.”[48] With this end in mind, he invited Osbert Lancaster (best known as a cartoonist) to design costumes and sets: “The backdrops, clear and bright like cut-outs from a child’s picture book, and the fresh colours of the costumes, admirably succeeded in creating a fairy-tale atmosphere.”[49] The undoubted prettiness was unconvincing though:

The result of this approach was to divorce the play from any semblance of reality and turn it into a quick-moving farce. In this guise it won many laughs and one could hardly take seriously the match-making activities of such a high-comedy King. Yet had the more serious scenes been played with more belief the real comedy might have increased in stature …[50]

The honors, such as they were, went to “Mr. Michael Hordern’s horribly real and truly pointed performance as the boastful cowardly militarist, Parolles, and Miss Fay Compton’s Countess of Roussillon.”[51]

Two years later in 1955 Noel Willman directed the play at Stratford “as a dark comedy,” but

complicated his approach by his sets, his stage business, and his interpretations of Bertram and Parolles. He placed the play in the late seventeenth century against ponderous scenery and sumptuous costumes. The heavy representative sets robbed the stage of a starkness better suited to the mood; the prettiness of the costumes conflicted with the darkness of the theme.[52]

Joyce Redman’s Helen “dominated the stage, not with her vivacity, nor indeed emotional variety, but by a moral earnestness which prompted frequent appeals to heaven … she behaved ‘like some ghastly Shavian woman … [demonstrating] a pertinacity worthy of the North-West Mounted Police.’ ”[53] The lightweight Bertram “could not be taken seriously as a partner in the ‘dark comedy’ ” and the “sinister potentialities of Parolles were ignored as well.”[54]

In 1959 Tyrone Guthrie’s successful Canadian production was revived at the Stratford Memorial Theatre with Zoe Caldwell as Helen, Robert Hardy as the King, and Dame Edith Evans as the Countess. The majority of critics were enthusiastic, concurring with the judgment of the Times’s critic:

His [Guthrie’s] production wears Edwardian dress, but it has a real Elizabethan vitality and its vindication of Helena is undertaken with as much care as the uproariously funny “debunking” of Parolles.[55]

A. Alvarez thought that “Mr Tyrone Guthrie’s Stratford production of All’s Well That Ends Well is about as perfect as we are likely to see.”[56] One piece of business noted by many was Helen’s curing of the King:

Miss Caldwell makes a quick and unexpected move, stands behind the King’s chair, and places her hands on his brow. He makes an impatient gesture as if to brush aside her insolent presumption—their timing throughout this passage was perfection—stops at her invocation of “the great’st grace” [2.1.171], relaxes, closes his eyes and listens, while with a subtle, barely perceptible rise in tone into what is practically recitative, she speaks the couplets, with their fanciful, stilted phrasing, as an incantation, a charm; and carried beyond herself, rises to the crucial answer upon which her life and fortune depend, and wrings from the so-called fustian rhymes a moment of pure theater magic and spell-binding. It is quite breath-taking, and completely right, startling and convincing us simultaneously.[57]

There were dissenters. The critic of the New York Times argued that “it is apparent that Mr. Guthrie’s intentions are frivolous rather than serious, and that his aim is less to reveal hidden depths in this play than to extract all possible fun.”[58] While Muriel St. Clare Byrne declared Edith Evans’s performance “flawless,”[59] Alan Brien characterized it thus: “Edith Evans is Edith Evans—an exiled queen locked away in a madhouse who still bestows her autumnal wisdom on the deaf zanies around her,” concluding that “the play itself remains a ragbag of revue sketches.”[60] Nevertheless, Guthrie’s is generally regarded as the watershed production for All’s Well, demonstrating that the play was now acceptable and could be made to work for wider audiences.

1. Tyrone Guthrie’s “watershed” production of 1959 with Zoe Caldwell as Helen and Robert Hardy as the King: “Miss Caldwell makes a quick and unexpected move, stands behind the King’s chair, and places her hands upon his brow … It is quite breath-taking, and completely right, startling and convincing us simultaneously.”

The stage history of the play in America is “astonishingly brief.”[61] There was a production in 1799 at the Federal Street Theatre, Boston, in which Elizabeth Kemble-Whitlock (a sister of the Kembles) played Helen, although no reviews of the production have survived. In the nineteenth century Augustin Daly seems to have been interested in putting it on and commissioned an acting text from William Winter, but in the event he never staged it. Guthrie’s was thus the first significant North American production. Price does, however, mention the “amusing fact” of its “popularity as a burlesque in American vaudeville.”[62]

In 1959, the same year as the revival of Guthrie’s production, John Houseman directed the play for the American Shakespeare Festival at Stratford, Connecticut. Whereas Guthrie had emphasized its comic elements, Houseman produced a dark tragicomedy: “Surprisingly, the reception by critics and audiences was almost as enthusiastic as that won by the Guthrie revival.”[63] Nancy Wickwire as Helen “played the heroine with intensity,” making her “the centre of the play to the exclusion of all other characters”:

The force of her character assumed a tragic intensity with Bertram’s rejection of her. Her horror at the thought that she was responsible for Bertram’s flight to war and at the potential danger that was threatened to him suggested that the “dark comedy” was in fact a very dark tragedy.[64]

The character of Bertram, meanwhile, was softened with stage business such as a kiss and wave to Helen in the first scene:

This kind of stage business was even more effective after the marriage when Bertram sent his bride back to Rousillon. He was not unkind to her. Somewhat overwhelmed by the force of her passion, he turned to say something to her, some kind word, but she had already begun her exit. He checked himself, showed dismay at hurting her, then recovered quickly and shouted his youthful boast.[65]

Price concluded, however, that Houseman had

paid a heavy price for his tragi-comedy. The infusion of passion changed Parolles from a braggart soldier to a coward-villain who failed to draw his first real laugh from the audience until his capture. Even then, the turnabout of his exposure was pathetic as he was knocked about by each of the departing lords in what became a repugnant scene.[66]

Nevertheless, the production was a popular success and the majority of critics agreed with Henry Hewes of the Saturday Review that “Houseman had ‘made this unpopular play work by filling it with genuine passion.’ ”[67]

Since then the play has been revived at regular intervals and become, if not popular, at least a standard part of the Shakespearean repertoire. The five notable RSC productions at Stratford are discussed in more detail below.

Elijah Moshinsky’s 1980 BBC television production was widely praised for the way it transferred the play to the small screen: “it seems to accept the inevitable diminution in theatrical power that the translation involves, and tries to invent new relationships which will (to some degree) compensate for that loss.”[68] Jeremy Treglown describes how

Moshinsky has framed the scenes as a series of calm seventeenth-century Dutch paintings, using mirrors to give depth to his surface and filling the small screen with the interplay of grouping and of light and shade, rather than with elaborate action or tricky camerawork. It works beautifully and gives a rich visual context to the unexpectedly plausible action itself, from Helena’s falling (on the rebound from her father’s death) for her shifty childhood friend Bertram, to his miserably trapped duplicities in the arranged marriage which follows.[69]

Angela Down’s “serenely unstoppable” Helen was praised, as was Ian Charleson’s “sulkily handsome” Bertram, with Celia Johnson as his “understandably anxious old mother” and Michael Hordern as the “melancholy-wise, genial old Lafeu.”[70] Donald Sinden’s rather “fruity” representation of the King caused several critics concern: “one of the lapses in a usually cool and contained production.”[71] The production’s successful translation to television was nowhere more apparent than the televisual technique employed to handle the final reveal as Diana is being taken to prison, as described by G. K. Hunter:

At the door she stops and pleads her final stay of execution: “Good mother, fetch my bail.” As the cast looks through the door music begins to play. “Behold the meaning,” says Diana. But the camera does not allow us to behold. Instead it does what the camera does best—it shows us a set of mouths and eyes. As it tracks along the line we are made witness to a series of inner sunrises, as face after face responds to the miracle and lights up with understanding and relief. I confess to finding it a very moving experience.[72]

In 1993 Richard Jones directed a “mesmerizing”[73] production of the play for the New York Shakespeare Festival in Central Park, in a style “more akin” to “tragicomedy.”[74] The set design was essentially abstract:

On a sea-green backing, marked by an aqua blue strip, hangs a white Rothko-like panel with a Donald Judd-like sculpture in the center that doubles as a mirror. When the action moves to Italy, the panel divides to reveal a lovely Tuscan countryside, decked with burnt umber fields and a tiny medieval town … Washed by Mimi Jordan Sherin’s sea-change lighting, the visual impact is ravishing.[75]

The production was literally stalked by a death’s head, “a little boy in a Halloween skeleton costume. Sometimes he slips, unnoticed, scythe in hand, into courtly processions at Rousillon and Paris; sometimes he peers down at the action from a perch in a row of spectators above and behind the railings.”[76] The acting was strong, with “standout performances” by Miriam Healy-Louie as Helen and Joan Macintosh as the Countess; however, “The only genuine comedy [was] provided by the chorus—courtiers drilled within an inch of their lives—whether simultaneously lighting clay pipes during the interrogation scene or returning from Italy with identical suit-cases.”[77]

Matthew Lloyd’s 1996 production at Manchester’s Royal Exchange Theatre was set in “a stiff and chilly version of the 1930s … holding throughout to the sombre economies implied by the allblack costumes of its opening stage-direction.”[78] This theme was reflected in the “unwelcoming set, the floor an expanse of dark, glassy marble fractured by numerous cracks” and the lack of “emotional warmth” with the cast deployed in “stiffly stylised groupings” displayed in “cool isolation.”[79] The production’s “saving grace” was Alastair Galbraith’s Parolles, “blessedly exempt from the icy self-control exuded by the rest of the cast.”[80]

Very different was Irina Brook’s production for the Oxford Playhouse in 1997, which “attempted to create a world in which the folk-story origins of the play might operate freely by presenting it in a pastiche African world.”[81] The production revealed that “the play’s theatrical energy is more or less indestructible if the role that drives it has been adequately cast.”[82] In this case Rachel Pickup’s Helen was “so full of energy, so gracefully and intelligently spoken, and so committed in her love for Emil Marwa’s boyishly naive Bertram, that much of this wonderful play’s essence seemed to survive the mistaken directorial concept.”[83]

Two recent productions have enjoyed critical and popular success; Marianne Elliott’s in 2009 for the National Theatre and Stephen Fried’s 2010 production for the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey. Elliott offered a “picture-book romance” that evolved into a story about “the attainment of maturity.”[84] In critic Michael Billington’s view its strength was the way in which the production balanced “romance and realism,” with Michelle Terry’s “fine performance” as Helen “holding the evening together”: “We see her growth from fairy princess into real woman. And even though hero and heroine are finally united, there is a look of aghast bewilderment as they pose for the cameras. In short Elliott gives us a fairytale for grown-ups.”[85]

Stephen Fried’s inspired decision to set the play in the Edwardian period of the “New Woman” enabled beautiful, flowing art nouveau sets and elegant costumes, while making Ellen Adair’s combination of “girlish modesty with the passion and wiles of a determined go-getter”[86] seem plausible. The versatile cast of nine played all twenty-three parts in this lively, warmly received production, with some notable doubling by John Ahlin as the King of France and the Clown Lavatch, and Tamara Tunie, the Countess and Widow Capilet. The three actors who played single roles were Adair as “an engagingly outgoing and energetically upbeat”[87] Helen; Clifton Duncan softening the unlovable Bertram by making him appear “blandly clueless”;[88] and Clark Carmichael playing Parolles with “dandified comic flair … Ostentatiously grooming his mustache and eyebrows while peering into a hand-held mirror, he is the ultimate braggart and prevaricator, itching for a comeuppance.”[89]

The conclusion of the New York Times’s review seems to sum up the theatrical fate of the play: “Though you leave the theater wondering about the long-term viability of Helena and Bertram’s union, you hope for the best. In the meantime, you can’t help loving this show.”[90]

AT THE RSC

The play’s historical unpopularity and paucity of performances over the years has offered modern directors a particular sort of challenge:

All’s Well That Ends Well is for us virtually a new play, and in this it is not unlike another problem comedy that has only recently found an audience, Troilus and Cressida. The “indelicacy” of the central story, in which a woman pursues a man all the way into his bed, has ensured that the play has no theatrical history worth mentioning until a few years ago.[91]

John Barton (1967)

John Barton’s production with Estelle Kohler as Helen (Lynn Farleigh took over the role the following year) to Ian Richardson’s Bertram offers a striking set of ambiguities. From the start, Kohler presents a bright, witty young woman, sincere in her devotion to Bertram, while Richardson, stunned by her effrontery, recoils in anger at the “betrothal” and storms, “I cannot love her.” The critic of the Birmingham Mail acknowledged the dilemma for an audience faced with a likable Helen and a justifiably angry Bertram:

She does the early debate with Parolles on virginity with wit, and for the rest of the evening she has so completely won our sympathies as a young woman in love with her social superior that I doubt whether we give much thought to the lack of scruple in her tactics. It is much to Ian Richardson’s credit, in the face of this attack, that he can make Bertram’s resentment and defiance reasonably understandable.[92]

The theater program suggests that Bertram’s conduct “has recently been viewed with less repulsion. It is realised that his attitude to a match with a poor girl below his rank would have seemed normal and not snobbish in Shakespeare’s time.” Accordingly, taking its cue from Stuart Hall’s discussion in the theater program of a struggle in the play between the old order, represented by the King, Lafew, and the Countess, and a counterculture where “the young make up the rules,” the play could be appraised as “an unromantic analysis of sex and station in life”: “In John Barton’s splendidly simple production the modernity of the play is appreciated.”[93] Timothy O’Brien’s simple wooden set, together with the Jacobean costumes, emphasized the historical and cultural contexts against which the sexual politics were played out.

A change in critical perceptions of Helen is evident from remarks by the critic J. C. Trewin:

Estelle Kohler does very little indeed that could win me to Helena but Bertram is transformed by one of the finest Royal Shakespeare actors, Ian Richardson: making no excuses for the man’s weakness and arrogance, he does get us to listen.[94]

While Milton Schulman argues that Bertram “is one of the most abused young men in Shakespeare” and that John Barton’s production “seems determined, as far as Bertram is concerned, to correct a critical wrong”: “As interpreted by Ian Richardson, Bertram is harmless rather than wilful, amiable rather than cruel, weak rather than venal. He just doesn’t want to get married.”[95] Praise was extended to “Catherine Lacey’s beautifully autumnal Countess,” Elizabeth Spriggs (the Widow), Helen Mirren (Diana), and Brewster Mason (Lafew).[96]

2. John Barton’s 1967 RSC production with Ian Richardson as Bertram and Clive Swift as Parolles: “As interpreted by Ian Richardson, Bertram is harmless rather than wilful, amiable rather than cruel, weak rather than venal. He just doesn’t want to get married.”

Trevor Nunn (1981)

Michael Billington in the Guardian described Trevor Nunn’s production, with Mike Gwilym as Bertram and Harriet Walter as Helen, “a total masterpiece”:

Indeed, Nunn’s great achievement is to have endowed a fairytale plot about a miracle-curing heroine and her defecting husband, with a total emotional reality. Partly he does this by updating the play to a precise Edwardian world in which class differences are crucial: thus the keys around Helena’s waist tell us that she is a working girl down on the Countess of Rossillion’s humane Chekhovian estate while Bertram, the object of her affection, is an aristocratic scion who at the Paris court becomes one of a bevy of fencing, vaulting, brandy-swilling St Cloud[*] junior officers.[97]

In Billington’s view, Harriet Walter “is no ruthless opportunist,” but rather “a love-struck heroine who knows she is up against an inflexible class-system,” while Mike Gwilym’s Bertram is “a savage Strindbergian monster” (Philip Franks played a less monstrous, more “caddish” Bertram when the production transferred to the Barbican).

Tom Vaughan praised John Gunter’s “Crystal Palace-style setting” as “brilliantly ingenious and evocative” but felt “a vital ingredient gets lost; this society is really medieval and the King and possibly the Countess as well have life and death powers over their subjects.”[98]

Helen was played as “a sombre, governessy girl”[99] who faltered at the first hurdle when Bertram rejects her:

In the scene of choosing a husband, she had tried to prevent the King from joining their hands, and when she made her final appearance, Bertram “went to take her hand, but didn’t actually do so; instead he spoke that cryptic, conditioned couplet.[*] This wary meeting between husband and wife contrasted strikingly with Helena’s intensely moving reunion with the Countess … Left alone, Bertram and Helena walked upstage together, their hands still apart, the final image of an unequal marriage.”[100]

Sympathy for Helena can be detected in James Fenton’s review: “In terms of the play, Helena’s tricking of Bertram is a legitimate response to the challenge he issues to her. Helena never wrongs Bertram, however much he may feel wronged.”[101]

Others were less impressed with the moral turnaround:

There is a slight snag about such realism and this is that the bad characters are so much more likeable than the good ones. Harriet Walter’s Helena is an admirable performance, but by God what a dull person this Helena turns out to be. The Florentine Diana, who lures the unfaithful Bertram to her bed but substitutes Helena in the dark … is twice as much fun and Cheryl Campbell has a splendid time with her.[102]

The performances were likewise praised of Parolles (Stephen Moore); the “higher grade” comedy of Lafew (Robert Eddison) and Lavatch (Geoffrey Hutchings), “bent double like Rigoletto and, like Rigoletto, pretty contemptuous of the upper classes”; and Peggy Ashcroft’s “true dignity” as the Countess. Ashcroft, whose performance was described as “perfect, noble, maternal, affectionate by turn,”[103] imbued her words “with a sure, sad knowledge of the world.”[104]

3. Trevor Nunn’s RSC production (1981) with Harriet Walter as “a sombre, governessy” Helen and Peggy Ashcroft as the Countess: “perfect, noble, maternal, affectionate by turn,” she imbued her words “with a sure, sad knowledge of the world.”

Barry Kyle (1989)

The theater program for Barry Kyle’s 1989 production illustrates a world of toy soldiers, some marching to the beat of a drum and others blowing the bugle, astride a rocking horse. As Waller remarks, “Kyle opened the play with Bertram playing with toy soldiers, taking up the description of war as ‘a nursery to our gentry’ [1.2.20].”[105]

Kyle offers a perfectly plausible account of two children growing up together, but unfortunately Patricia Kerrigan’s Helen matures earlier than her playfellow, Bertram (Paul Venables). She is ready for a relationship but he is young and seeks adventure and glory with other boy soldiers. The potential tragedy of their situation is insisted upon by Chris Dyer’s permanent set, “a child’s nursery complete with huge hobby-horse and three toy soldiers.”[106] One critic praised “the achievement of coherence, remarkable in a play which sometimes appears to be a patchwork of fragments culled from other Shakespeare plays.”[107] Kyle presents Helen’s “sturdy self-assertion” in choosing Bertram for her husband as “an acceptable error” and shows her immediate “agonised realisation of her miscalculation.” For the “choosing” scene, the suitors had each a full-length mirror “by which they could set their images.”[108] The illusory attraction of the world of toy soldiers became apparent when the angry King of France (Hugh Ross) struck Bertram for refusing Helen, forced their hands together and then threatened him with his sword. Bertram had no option but to take her hand and exit.

Michael Billington felt that the director had imposed an “artificial visual unity” on the play but that “Mr Kyle’s most original idea is to preface the court scenes with images of Elizabeth and James I implying that Shakespeare, writing around 1603, was lamenting the loss of a vanished Golden Age.”[109] In one interview Kyle admitted that he had toyed with the idea of setting All’s Well That Ends Well in the City of London in 1989, with characters setting off to the wars by helicopter. The themes he finds in the play, of “an old world being supplanted by a new world and new values, new money,” had obvious and tempting parallels with 1980s Britain.[110] Opinions were divided over Paul Venables as Bertram who was accused of giving “an over-diagrammatic performance,” which suggested that “buried deep down, Bertram may harbour a secret affection for his enforced bride.”[111] The production was described as a “cop-out” that offered the spectator “a boring compromise.”[112] Certainly, the unambiguous ending showed Bertram, Helen, and the Countess locked in embrace.

4. Barry Kyle’s 1989 RSC production with Patricia Kerrigan as Helena: for the “choosing” scene, the suitors had each a full-length mirror “by which they could set their images.” The illusory attraction of the world of toy soldiers became apparent.

While Gwen Watford delivered the Countess’s “embittered grief,” Bruce Alexander’s “admirable braggart Parolles” was not only “exactly costumed (his cross-hatched finery is precisely the ‘window of lattice’ described by Lafew) but even in decline retains the clipped accents of the Sandhurst saloon-bar military poseur.”[113]

Peter Hall (1992)

Reviewing Peter Hall’s production at The Swan in 1992, Michael Billington noted a particular problem with the play: “Shakespeare’s psychological realism often bursts through the fairy tale structure.” He remarked that Hall, returning to the Royal Shakespeare Company after a twenty-year absence, had solved the difficulties “by giving the play the elegant formality of a spoken opera staged in Caroline costumes,” a device he considered “very much classical, late Peter Hall.”[114]

Martin Dodsworth in his review for the Times Literary Supplement found the production “intense and powerful”: “The bare stage of the Swan puts all the emphasis in how characters relate to one another. Body language throughout is significant. It rarely signifies happiness.”[115] Helen (Sophie Thompson) entered “radiant with success” to dance with the cured King (Richard Johnson) in “a splendid scene.”[116] When Bertram (Toby Stephens) rejected her, with an angry emphasis on “Disdain / Rather corrupt me ever!” (2.3.118–19), the court, as one, moved to protect the King. In this production, courtly etiquette demanded that Bertram quickly repair the breach of decorum, accede to the King’s command and exit holding Helen’s hand.

Charles Spencer thought the production smacked of “dogged conscientiousness rather than real inspiration,” the Caroline costumes made the play “something of a museum piece,” and that “too few of the characters take on a life of their own.”[117] While conceding the latter point, Dodsworth considered, “The price paid for coherence is a certain thinning-out of character” and “Helena is made to seem simpler than she is.” Hall’s “through-line” for Helen was that of “a wide-eyed innocent”:

She is very close to a child and has the power to impose her childish conviction on others. When, at the end of it all, she has fulfilled the impossible conditions for her reunion with Bertram, she had the absolute faith of a child in the written word: “And look you, here’s your letter. This it says …”[118]

5. Peter Hall’s RSC production, 1992: the city wall and view of Florence with Andrée Evans as the Widow, “an example of how to play a small part to perfection,” Emily Raymond as Mariana, Sophie Thompson “a wide-eyed innocent” Helen, and Rebecca Saire as a “sparky” Diana.

Other performances drew praise; for example, Barbara Jefford’s performance as the Countess was “full of poise and a sense of reflective wisdom, which is matched for weight by Richard Johnson’s powerful King of France.”[119] Michael Siberry’s “rollicking Parolles” possessed “the right energy and elan,”[120] and Rebecca Saire’s Diana was “sparky,”[121] while Andrée Evans as the Widow was commended as “an example of how to play a small part to perfection.”[122]

Hall kept some interesting surprises for the ending:

As interpreted by Hall, the conclusion loses any refulgent, romance-like glow. When the lights dim and Helena enters dressed in white, the gathered people don’t respond to her as some symbol of harmonising fecundity but start back in terror, realistically, as at the approach of a ghost.[123]

Finally there was the “beautiful moment” when the childlike Helen grows up:

She starts to read the letter, pointing with her finger at every significant word: “When from my finger you can get this ring. And are by me with child …” Then suddenly, and at last, an adult understanding takes over, the rest of the letter is summed up in a comprehensive and dismissive “etcetera” and she tears it in half, cancelling the bond to which Bertram had subscribed, inviting him at last to commit himself to her freely and afresh.[124]

Helen moved directly to the Countess, leaving Bertram free to choose. He held out his hand as she hoped he would.

Gregory Doran (2003)

Judi Dench played the Countess in Gregory Doran’s production at the Swan (2003), returning to Stratford for the first time in twenty-four years. Michael Billington observed, “It is Dench who is drawing the crowds, but the triumph lies in the restoration of an unforgivably neglected play.”[125]

The set for the Rossillion estate had “an elegiac quality,” captured in Stephen Brimson Lewis’s “spare, effective design of wintry trees etched on sheets of silvery, scoured glass.”[126] Costumes were seventeenth-century and Judi Dench was the “winter queen.”[127] Kate Kellaway recalls the effect of Dench’s performance:

Tears started into my eyes as she threw herself into the speech that she—or Doran—sees as pivotal to the play. It is the moment when she first learns of Helena’s love for her son—lines that could just as easily have been thrown away. But Dench brings to the speech an urgency, as though her words were the last flowering of everything she had ever felt—age’s passionate identification with youth: “Even so it was with me when I was young. / If ever we are nature’s, these are ours: this thorn / Doth rightly belong. / Our blood to us, this to our blood is born.”[128]

A note of caution was sounded, however: “She gives an authoritative performance, as one would expect, but it is Helena and Bertram who matter,” and Bertram (Jamie Glover) “has no character change.”[129] There was universal acclaim for Claudie Blakley’s performance as Helen: “she’s feisty and forlorn at the same time, vulnerable when riding high, courageous in deepest misery.”[130] Nicholas de Jongh described how the Countess “scathingly dismisses her heir as a chronic disappointment and passionately upholds Helena as a cherishable daughter-in-law.”[131]

The production had tilted approbation toward Helen in such a way that everything she did appeared “perfectly normal” while Bertram had nowhere to go at the end:

Glover gave a superb rendering here of an unimaginative, unreflective and largely inarticulate young man realizing too late that his attempts at achieving liberty have only betrayed him into a permanent version of exactly the “subjection” he had resented back in I.I: his performance never made the mistake of trying to make Bertram likeable, but I’ve never seen the young Count’s situation illuminated so fully and so desolately.[132]

The play ended with the lights fading on Helen and Bertram “looking warily at one another, circling each other, a pace apart, in a recapitulation of the choosing scene’s dance.”[133]

Turning to the rest of the cast, there was praise for “the wonderfully accomplished” performance of Gary Waldhorn as the King of France, while “Guy Henry as Parolles is bliss: tall as a hollyhock, trailing hippy scarves from unexpected quarters of his body and glitteringly garrulous. Thank goodness that the play, like life, is sorrow and joy.”[134]

THE DIRECTOR’S CUT: INTERVIEWS WITH GREGORY DORAN AND STEPHEN FRIED

Gregory Doran, born in 1958, studied at Bristol University and the Bristol Old Vic theater school. He began his career as an actor, before becoming associate director at the Nottingham Playhouse. He played some minor roles in the RSC ensemble before directing for the company, first as a freelance, then as associate and subsequently chief associate director. His productions, several of which have starred his partner Antony Sher, are characterized by extreme intelligence and lucidity. He has made a particular mark with several of Shakespeare’s lesser-known plays and the revival of works by his Elizabethan and Jacobean contemporaries. His much-acclaimed 2003 production of All’s Well That Ends Well discussed here featured Dame Judi Dench as the Countess of Rossillion and Guy Henry as Parolles.

Stephen Fried has a BA in history and drama from Stanford University and an MFA in directing from the Yale School of Drama. He teaches acting at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey and is on the directing faculty for the New School for Drama. He is the recipient of the Drama League Director’s Fellowship as well as the Jacob Javitz Fellowship, and has trained at the Center for Theatre Studies in Gardzienice, Poland, and with the Double Edge Theatre troupe. He now works as a freelance director in New York after three years as resident assistant director with the Shakespeare Theatre Company. Apart from his many innovative productions of the plays of Shakespeare and other classic writers, he has also created productions of new writing with contemporary playwrights. His successful Much Ado About Nothing in 2010 for the Trinity Shakespeare Festival led to his being hailed as a contemporary “Defining director.” Stephen is talking here about his 2010 All’s Well That Ends Well for the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, which successfully cast a total of nine actors for all twenty-three parts.

There are different views as to whether this is an early Shakespeare play (perhaps revised later) or a late play; did you have any preconceptions about this and were they confirmed or confounded by your production?

Doran: I had a very precise impression of what period the play was, because it seemed to have a relationship with the Sonnets. There is something about the ambiguity of the language that reminded me in a very particular way of the Sonnets. Sometimes the language is dense and gnarled; there are times when Helen, in trying to describe her love for Bertram, describes it in a very compressed way. The Sonnets are all about compression; they keep feelings in check with language, whereas in All’s Well That Ends Well feelings are released through language. That gave me a strong sense that the play would have been written around about the early 1600s. The Sonnets were first published in 1609 but clearly were written before that.

Fried: Throughout my time working on All’s Well That Ends Well, I never felt that it could have been an early play. My experience with the early comedies—having directed both The Comedy of Errors and Love’s Labour’s Lost—is that those plays radiate a youthful exuberance and naiveté. You feel in the early comedies that Shakespeare identifies himself principally with his youthful protagonists. In All’s Well That Ends Well, he seems to take a much more critical look at the subject of youth—he points our attention in the play’s first half not only to Bertram’s pride and recklessness and Parolles’ self-absorption, but also to Helen’s inexperience and her mistaking of obsession for mature love. The adult characters—the Countess and the King—function as the play’s moral centers, and provide the play with its mature, almost Chekhovian outlook. Take, for example, the Countess’s speech from Act 1 Scene 3:

Even so it was with me when I was young.

If ever we are nature’s, these are ours. This thorn

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong.

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born:

It is the show and seal of nature’s truth,

Where love’s strong passion is impressed in youth.

By our remembrances of days foregone,

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

I find it difficult to imagine that this could have been the work of a young writer. It’s in passages like this one that Shakespeare seems to be identifying more with the older characters in the play, which isn’t the case in the earlier plays.

In addition to this, the play’s ambiguities, both in content and form, always suggested to me the work of a playwright who had grown so experienced in his craft that he was now experimenting with the comedic genre. In terms of content, the play’s complicated moral questions regarding the possibility of redemption and the ability to love someone who may not deserve your love place it in close relation to the other mid-career problem plays Troilus and Cressida and Measure for Measure. In addition to this, the blending of comedic and dramatic tones seemed to me to connect All’s Well with later plays—particularly Cymbeline—and so it never really seemed possible to me that this could be an early play.

The language of All’s Well That Ends Well also distances it from the early-career works. In the early plays, Shakespeare frequently seems to be showing off through bold displays of his verbal dexterity. The language in those plays feels youthful and exuberant. All’s Well, on the other hand, has a more mature, subtle, and complicated feeling to it. The imagery is more delicate and nuanced. To put it simply, the play sounds so different from the early comedies, and feels much more connected in tone to the great tragedies and problem plays that Shakespeare wrote in the middle and later phases of his career.

The play seems to draw attention to the role of language with its high incidence of rhyming couplets, of proverbs and sayings, on “telling” rather than “showing” and the inclusion of a character called Parolles; how did you cope with this emphasis on language in the play?

Doran: The language in the central scene of the first part, when Helen cures the King, has an incantatory quality. In performance there is a sense that the rhymes themselves are curing the King. There is something very deliberate about the spell and the enchantment that it evokes.

Fried: While there certainly are a great number of proverbs and rhymes in the play, in production and in terms of what the play is really about, I didn’t find All’s Well That Ends Well to be significantly more concerned with the role of language than any other of Shakespeare’s plays. Human beings’ relationship with language and words was a constant fascination of Shakespeare’s, and appears as a theme in almost every play he wrote, probably most explicitly in Love’s Labour’s Lost.

That said, the play’s emphasis on “telling” rather than “showing” is certainly one of the great challenges that it presents to a director. Many of the play’s most significant events—Helen’s curing of the King, her discovery that Bertram has run away, the complicated maneuvering of the rings, and of course the infamous “bed trick,” all occur offstage, and we’re given complicated conversational scenes such as the beginning of Act 2 Scene 3 between Lafew, Bertram, and Parolles, or the opening of Act 4 Scene 3 between the two Dumaine brothers to learn of the momentous events that have taken place out of our view. As a result, I felt it was important at certain points to delicately weave visual storytelling into places where it wasn’t explicitly called for by the playwright. An example of this was the ring plot—which is one of those aspects of the play that is endlessly talked about but barely shown onstage. I felt that the audience’s appreciation for the significance of these rings would benefit from seeing a bit of their traffic, and so in the first scene, as the Countess bade farewell to Bertram, she presented his father’s ring to him as a sort of “going away present.” In Act 2 Scene 3, the King grandly presented his ring to Helen in gratitude for her curing him. These small moments enabled the audience to follow the conversation over these rings a little more closely in the final scene, I think.

Yet I also felt that the play’s emphasis on telling rather than showing was somewhat by design, and I tried not to betray this aspect of the play. The result of this focus on the aftermath of an event, I found, is that the audience’s attention is pulled off of the events themselves and onto the way that the play’s characters respond to them. Thus, the real “story” of the play lies in the characters’ subtle shifts in outlook and behavior as they react to what’s happening around them. It’s this aspect of the text that I think gives the play its almost Chekhovian tone; there is frequently a sensation of distance between the characters and the events they are responding to, and so the characters are able to reveal aspects of their humanity that they wouldn’t if they were right in the middle of the event. For this reason, while we did show certain things when I felt that it might improve narrative clarity without betraying the play’s structural intentions (such as the ring exchanges described above), I also tried to honor the play’s impulse against showing certain events. I think many directors might be tempted to stage the bed trick in the interest of narrative clarity, but it felt intentional to me that the audience not be allowed to see that. As that moment of consummation represents such a major transformation for both Helen and Bertram, it seemed somehow perfect that Shakespeare leads us right up to that scene, then suddenly takes the characters away to somewhere where we can’t see exactly what they go through—where a miracle can occur—and then brings them back radically changed. Both Helen and Bertram’s speech and behavior change fundamentally from Act 4 Scene 3 on—after the point in the play where the bed trick would occur. So we come to understand what has happened not by seeing the event itself, but by seeing how it has changed the human beings that were involved in it. By keeping the bed trick offstage, Shakespeare allows the event to assume a more mythic size than anything that could be shown onstage.

The absence of so many of the play’s events from the stage also pulls our focus to the events that actually do occur onstage—Bertram’s rejection of Helen, his decision to run away, Parolles’ betrayal of Bertram, and Helen’s eventual acceptance of him following his pleas of “pardon.” These are the events that really delineate that play’s most significant journey—the evolution of the relationships between Helen, Bertram, and Parolles—and this journey becomes so much clearer because so many of the other events occur outside of our view.

In terms of how all of this affected our production, I think it was this emphasis on human behavior that led me to take a decidedly Chekhovian approach to the production. The autumn became a major reference point in terms of the physical world, and it was important to me that the play finish in a sort of “magical fall,” which captured not only the play’s particular pensiveness and its emphasis on time and age, but also its capacity for miraculous redemption. The actors’ work also focused on the exploration of those fine details and nuances of human behavior that we frequently associate with Chekhov. All of this, I believe, stems in some degree from the play’s emphasis on language, and its tendency to talk about an event rather than to show it directly.

Shakespeare often yokes together seemingly incompatible plot elements; is All’s Well a radical play about the removal of class barriers and a woman’s right to choose her partner, or a fairy tale with its roots in folklore, or something between the two?

Doran: It’s a bittersweet play, a sort of realistic fairy tale. It has fairytale elements, but I think you have to root it in reality. We didn’t heighten the sense of fairy tale. I took a rather historicist point of view about the play, again in relationship to the Sonnets. It seemed to me that you could quite easily connect Bertram to either the Earl of Pembroke or Henry Wriothesley, the Earl of Southampton, two of Shakespeare’s patrons, both of whom, like Bertram, had refused marriages to women who they thought were not right for them. I was also fascinated by the possibility that Shakespeare and the King’s Men, in order to avoid the plague in 1603, had come to Wilton House, where Mary Pembroke, Sidney’s sister, ran this sort of Academy and patronized many poets, writers, and scientists. This was the world of the Countess of Rossillion. We were therefore quite specific and set our production absolutely in 1603/1604.

It’s a Blackfriars play rather than a Globe play. It has a concentration of thought and an ambiguity of character which is interesting. From one point of view, Helen is a stalker: she wants her man and she stalks him all the way to Paris and he finds himself stuck with marrying her. That’s not the basis for a great relationship, is it? On the other hand, she recognizes something profound about her love for him.

We were interested in the class element in the Sonnets, where the poet is devoted to the young man who is way beyond him in terms of social standing. Shakespeare was just an ordinary boy from Warwickshire, and perhaps in the portrait of Helen there was something autobiographical. Also in Parolles—from the French word parole: what better way for Shakespeare to disguise himself than to call himself “words”? Parolles is a spectacular wordsmith. He is also a pompous braggart, but he learns something very precise about living life.

Fried: I think it’s something between the two. When I first encountered All’s Well That Ends Well, what initially appealed to me was the way that it begins very much like a fairy tale, but that as the young characters go out into the world and actually experience life, the fairy tale breaks down. Shakespeare pushes the story beyond its fairytale roots into a far more complicated exploration of human behavior, and also of the flaws in each of us and in the world we live in.

That said, I don’t think that the play ever really becomes so direct as to be called “a radical play about the removal of class barriers and a woman’s right to choose her partner.” Helen’s “right” to choose Bertram isn’t really the central question of the play—as the Countess gives Helen her blessing in the play’s third scene, and the King sanctions the union three scenes after that. While class barriers certainly play a huge role in the play, I think Shakespeare is trying to get at something even deeper and more universal, and the barriers between Helen and Bertram are simply a device Shakespeare uses to get at the idea of an “impossible dream.” He seems to be asking, “What do you do when you achieve your dream and it turns out to be something less perfect than you imagined it to be?” Is the thing you have always aspired toward worth pursuing if it reveals itself to be flawed? In this way, Shakespeare seems to be interrogating the idea of a fairy tale quite brilliantly. The world will never live up to our happily-ever-after aspirations, he seems to be saying, so how should we cope with the inevitable disappointments of human existence? In this way, the play’s tone becomes almost Shavian: an idealistic and somewhat naive heroine pursues a goal obsessively, only to discover that that goal isn’t all that she thought it would be, and as a result, she’s forced to mature and develop a more nuanced and pragmatic worldview.

It has been suggested that All’s Well is the “lost” Shakespeare play, Love’s Labour’s Won; did you give any credence to this theory and did your production glance at the idea at all?

Doran: No. I know what Love’s Labour’s Won is, I am absolutely certain of it: it’s Much Ado About Nothing. When I did Love’s Labour’s Lost with David Tennant and Nina Sosanya, the relationship between Rosaline and Berowne is left at the end with the imposition of one year in which they have to be apart from each other. Berowne has to go and tend the sick. So as the relationship ends you don’t know when or whether these people are going to get back together.

At the beginning of Much Ado About Nothing Beatrice and Benedick have this past history. They have been wounded. Maybe he didn’t come back after the year apart, or she believed his promises but he didn’t quite live up to them. But he’s still a wit and the relationship between Rosaline and Berowne transmogrifies into Benedick and Beatrice. So I am sure that All’s Well That Ends Well is not Love’s Labour’s Won, but Much Ado About Nothing is. It never occurred to us that this had any relationship to Love’s Labour’s Won, because ultimately the love’s labors aren’t won.

Fried: I can’t say that I ever thought about this while working on All’s Well That Ends Well. I had heard a theory that Much Ado About Nothing was actually the lost Love’s Labour’s Won, and the similarities between that play and Love’s Labour’s Lost, and particularly between Berowne and Rosaline and Benedick and Beatrice, always gave this theory a little more plausibility for me.

Helen’s often seen as a problematic heroine; many have questioned why someone so clever and lively falls for and then has the bad taste to foist herself on an unattractive spoiled brat, using the morally dubious bed trick. How did you reconcile the different aspects of her character?

Doran: I think she has a certainty about her: she knows this is right. The bed trick is seen from her perspective as a sort of corrective for Bertram’s bad behavior. Bertram is immature; he doesn’t want to be shackled by marriage or by the society of the French court. Going off and becoming General of the Horse is liberating for him; he wants to sow his wild oats and play the field. Diana realizes how attractive this young man is and although she resists him he has a kind of charisma that is irresistible to somebody like Helen. She firmly believes she is the one who can solve his problems; she will make him fall in love with her. His mother, the Countess, sees that this love is there, does not object to it on class grounds because she sees the virtue and integrity in Helen and therefore allows the depth of her love to prosper.

Fried: As I was working on All’s Well That Ends Well, I frequently found myself defending the play against critics who took issue with Helen’s love for the seemingly undeserving Bertram. Without question, Helen’s flight from Rossillion at the end of Act 3 Scene 2, and her continued pursuit of Bertram in Florence even after he has so harshly rejected her, pose a problem for any postfeminist reading of the play. Yet I feel quite strongly that to look at the play as the story of a “clever and lively heroine who falls for an unattractive spoiled brat” denies the possibility that both Helen and Bertram must change and mature over the course of the play. I think it’s very important to recognize—as I strove to make clear through my production—that Helen begins the play as a fairly sheltered and somewhat naive girl who confuses childlike obsession and idol worship with mature love. It is only after her idol rejects her that she must then confront reality and mature into the woman who, presented with Bertram at the end of the play, is able to define the terms by which she is to be wed rather than simply giving herself over unquestioningly.

This doesn’t completely solve the problem of why Helen continues to pursue Bertram even after he rejects her. Yet I think it’s unfair to expect that Helen should behave rationally when it comes to Bertram. How often is love rational? And how frequently has each of us fallen head over heels for someone completely undeserving of that love? Is Helen’s love for Bertram easy to watch? Certainly not. But does it reveal a deeply honest truth about the irrational and inexplicable actions of the human heart? Without a doubt. In my production, when Helen mused in Act 4 Scene 4, “But, O strange men, / That can such sweet use make of what they hate,” she seemed to recognize both the irrationality and also the inevitability of her love. Fully aware of Bertram’s disdain for her, she was nonetheless filled with wonder over the sweetness of their night together.

Regarding the bed trick, by the time it appears in the play we’ve seen Helen put through so much abuse that I think most audience members are willing to forgive the moral questions that this tactic raises. More importantly, this shockingly cynical and pragmatic approach to winning a husband represents an important stage of Helen’s maturation—gone are her more noble fantasies of how a man ought to be won, and she is now willing to face the world with all of its ugliness, to roll up her sleeves, and to do whatever she needs to do to get what she wants. In her bold disregard for the conventional morality that would stop such actions, there is, ironically, a unique sort of feminism. She doesn’t particularly care about the morality behind what she’s doing; for better or for worse, she’s out to win Bertram, and understands that she must beat him at his own game in order to do so.

Bertram seems to have no redeeming qualities as a character and when cornered performs a one-line volte-face; how did you handle him and his sudden change of heart?

Doran: I think he is young, and I know that is often an excuse, but I think his youth and his hot temper make him behave impulsively. Such is the strength of Helen’s love that I think that Bertram is moved in the final moments to realize that here is a good woman who loves him, and could he really ask for more than that? But there is still at the end a question of whether or not the marriage is going to be happy. Has she tamed him? Is that morally acceptable? That ambiguity is at the heart of the play and is what makes it one of the “problem plays,” as they used to be called, of that middle period.

Fried: As unpleasantly pragmatic as it sounds, the first advice that I would give to any director of All’s Well That Ends Well is to be sure when casting Bertram to find a dazzlingly charismatic young man whose charm and allure radiate even when he has nothing to say, and even in spite of the many unpleasant things that Shakespeare has given him to say. Without this, the audience will have a very hard time understanding and sympathizing with Helen’s obsession with him, and in order for the play to “work,” I think that we must be able to sympathize with Helen.

I also think that it’s crucial that, like Helen, Bertram be allowed to mature and develop over the course of the production, and not be played as fully formed at the beginning. We must meet him not as a confirmed cad, but as a young man who still has a huge amount to learn, whose head is filled with misconceptions as to what “honour” and “nobility” really mean, and who is heading out into the world seeking these ideals having put all of his trust in the hands of a rascal named Parolles. It is easy for a production to dismiss Parolles as simply a clownish jokester, but I think that Bertram’s ultimate redemption (and thus, the play’s resolution and our ability to believe in Helen) is only possible if we understand that Bertram starts the play misguidedly trusting Parolles with his life. For this reason, I pushed Parolles away from a clownish fool and toward a more believably cynical and self-serving young man with great charisma, huge ambitions, and few, if any, scruples. In this way, Bertram’s admiration and trust in him becomes more real and, as a result, Parolles’ betrayal becomes a crushing event for Bertram. It forces him to reassess his estimation of the people around him, and ultimately to transform into a man that we can tolerate Helen ending up with. When Bertram enters into Act 4 Scene 3, since the last time we have seen him he has received news of both Helen’s supposed death and his mother’s approbation, he has slept with a woman he believed to be Diana, and he has also been informed that his best friend has offered to betray the secrets of the camp, so the man who enters into this scene is a very different Bertram than the man we last saw wooing Diana. It was important to me that his speech, “I have tonight dispatched sixteen businesses, a month’s length apiece …,” be filled with a sort of distracted wonder, as if the sheer volume of life experience he has acquired in the last several hours has forced him to reconsider the life choices he has made thus far in the play. By the end of this scene, his dearest friend will be revealed to him as even more insidious than he previously thought possible, so Bertram leaves Florence a shaken man, eager to create himself anew upon his return to Rossillion.

Bertram’s lies and harsh lines toward Diana in the play’s final scene do seem to problematize his redemption, but in the context of Act 5 Scene 3, these flagrant displays of his still deeply fault-ridden character function as the final purging of his moral recklessness. Here, at the end of the play, Bertram reveals just how repugnant he is capable of being. His ugly display crests in its finale of calling Diana “that which any inferior might / At market-price have bought.” And yet, as heinous as his behavior is, it is now out in the open. He no longer has Parolles to blame his sins on, and must now take full responsibility for his actions and suffer the disdain of every other character onstage (as well as of the audience) in a way that he hasn’t been forced to until now. The young man who left home five acts ago in pursuit of honor and nobility must now feel what it means to be publicly stripped of both. From this moment in which his lies are revealed and he confesses to having slept with Diana (as he believes himself to have done), Bertram then remains mysteriously silent until the moment when Helen reappears. This silence, I believe, bespeaks his recognition of his own moral failure, so that when Helen reappears, and he is presented, after suffering such public shame, with the woman he believes himself to have killed, his only recourse is to beg the pardon of Helen and everyone else around him. We must believe that his “O, pardon!” comes from the very depths of his soul, as he has now achieved full recognition of his sins and is prepared to reform.

6. Stephen Fried’s 2010 production for the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey with Clifton Duncan as Bertram, “not … a confirmed cad, but … a young man who still has a huge amount to learn,” and Ellen Adair as Helen, “a somewhat naive girl” who has to “confront reality” in order to “mature into the woman.”

George Bernard Shaw famously thought the Countess “the most beautiful old woman’s part ever written”; is that what you found?

Doran: I told Judi Dench that, although I think I left out the “old” part! It is a beautiful part; the Countess is the moral heart of the play. I think Trevor Nunn knew that when he cast Peggy Ashcroft. That production was meant to open the Swan Theatre, although the opening was delayed so it ended up playing in the main house. Judi Dench was attracted to the role partly to come back to Stratford and to the Swan, but the Countess is the still center of the play and of Rossillion, which makes her a deeply attractive character. She found expression even in the silences of the Countess; there was one moment when Helen is revealed at the end to have come back and Judi simply opened her hands, giving a gesture of acceptance, relief, and acknowledgment, which was very, very beautiful. But she also conveyed the rage of the Countess, the sense of fun in the Countess’s relationship with Lavatch, and the depth of her own loss when she loses her son to Court.

Fried: I would agree wholeheartedly. At some point during rehearsals we realized that she might be the only example (or at least one of the few) of a truly good parent in all of Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s parental figures generally tend to have some major flaw. Capulet has a violent temper. Eleanor, Elizabeth, and Constance all seem out for political gain. Henry IV is somewhat ineffective. Volumnia (while fabulous) seems a bit manipulative. Even Prospero can seem a little overly protective of Miranda. But the Countess seems to be motivated simply by pure love for both her son and for Helen. And it’s for this reason that it is so incredibly heartbreaking when her son disappoints her. When she laments, in Act 3 Scene 4, that “My heart is heavy and mine age is weak. / Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak,” we are forced to consider every wound that we have ever inflicted upon our own parents.

7. Gregory Doran’s 2003 RSC production in the Swan Theatre with Judi Dench as the Countess of Rossillion and Claudie Blakley as Helena: “The Countess is the still center of the play and of Rossillion, which makes her a deeply attractive character. She [Judi] found expression even in the silences of the Countess.”

All’s Well That Ends Well is a comforting thought, but how well does the play end and what does it mean by “end” anyway?

Doran: We always felt that it should be called All’s Well That Ends Well? with a question mark, because the ending is so ambiguous. There’s a chill to the play. It is perhaps not Shakespeare’s most congenial play. It fits into that middle period; it doesn’t have the snarl of Troilus and Cressida or the decadence of Measure for Measure, but it does have this ache in it, which fits very much in that period. “All’s well that ends well” is an aspiration that rather than a certainty.

Fried: I see the title as a somewhat open question that the play asks of its audience: if we find our way toward ultimate redemption, can we forgive the sins committed along the way? Helen seems quite resolute that “all’s well that ends well,” as she twice argues to the Widow and Diana, but I think that Shakespeare intended to leave the question of whether the end really does justify the means somewhat ambiguous.

In a more abstract sense, the notion that “all’s well that ends well” also gets at the possibility of salvation. It’s what we’re asked to consider when assessing both Bertram’s and Parolles’ characters; these two young men both commit gross acts of misjudgment causing great pain to those around them, and yet they each (Bertram through Helen and Parolles through Lafew) find their way toward self-recognition and reformation. They both, in essence, “end well.” So can we forgive them for everything they did along the way? The play forces us to consider how much we believe that a human being is actually capable of change, and how much we are willing to forgive in other people.

GUY HENRY ON PLAYING PAROLLES

Guy Henry was born in 1960 and trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. In 1982 he played the title role in ITV’s Young Sherlock Holmes series. He has since enjoyed wide success as an actor on stage, in radio, film, and television. He first joined the RSC in 1991 and has played many well-known Shakespearean roles, including Sir Andrew Aguecheek (1996), Dr. Caius (The Merry Wives of Windsor 1997), Malvolio (2001), and the title role in King John (2001), the same year in which he won the TMA/Barclays Best Supporting Actor award for his Mosca in Volpone (1999), directed by Lindsay Posner. Guy is probably most widely known for his film role as Pius Thicknesse in the film Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. He has also worked with Cheek by Jowl and at the National Theatre as Turgenev in Tom Stoppard’s The Coast of Utopia (2002). He is here discussing his much lauded performance as Parolles in the 2003 All’s Well That Ends Well directed by Gregory Doran.

Why do you think Parolles is such a large part in the play, second only to Helen in terms of lines? Is it something to do with the play’s emphasis on language: the high incidence of rhyming couplets, proverbs, and sayings, “telling” rather than “showing,” apart from a character actually called Parolles (“words”)?

I think Shakespeare probably knew when he was on to a good thing. He invented a character that is full of warmth and eccentricity, foibles and failings, and has an extraordinary range of humanity; he must have wanted to put him into all sorts of situations. I think he knew that he’d created a character that was going to be very watchable and very interesting. He is also very different; he’s not like anyone else in the play, indeed I suspect he’s not like many other characters who have ever been written. He was an invented character and doesn’t appear in the source material, so there must have been an element of creating this firework character, who is a catalyst in the play. He loves words. He’s a liar and a braggart, a fantasist who lives in his own world. So he can go any which way: he can say or do almost anything that Shakespeare wants him to. Once that character has come to a writer, it must be rather a gift.

“Simply the thing I am / Shall make me live.” A fantastic line–how did you deliver it? And what “thing” do you think Parolles is or was and does he change?

8. Guy Henry in Gregory Doran’s 2003 production in the Swan Theatre in his “fantastic costume of rags and tatters.” His Parolles “was obsessed with his scarves: that was all part of the pretence—anything to take the eye away from what’s really going on. He loved anything flashy, he was like a magpie.”

At the time Greg Doran asked me to do it I was working with Trevor Nunn at the National on The Coast of Utopia. I told Trevor and he said that if anyone ever doubted that Shakespeare was a great humanitarian and the great understander of human behavior, then he’d only have to point at the character of Parolles to show how Shakespeare believes humans are capable of change and redemption and generosity of spirit. I think that’s right. That line comes after he’s been beaten and tormented, and his mask has been ripped away. I was on my knees, sat back on my haunches, alone on the stage. Greg Doran quite rightly kept emphasizing the need to make it as simple as possible, because all the lying is gone. He sees a way to be much happier if he no longer piles layers of lies upon what he is and just tells the truth. It’s a lovely thing to be able to play a character that has what some people call a journey, a change. He does. He goes very simply back to the court and I think all his lies and nonsense are forgiven. I remember thinking what a relief it must be not to have to bother to pretend anymore. That’s one of the great moments in the play. It’s interesting that a supposed upstanding and honorable gentleman like Bertram is in fact revealed as less generous-spirited than Parolles turns out to be.

How does Parolles compare with other Shakespearean parts you’ve played?

He is unique. He’s not as stupid as Sir Andrew Aguecheek and he’s not as wise as Feste. He reminds me more of Mosca in Volpone, in that he’s a chancer and liar. He’s nowhere near as clever as Mosca, but in terms of flashiness and extraordinary braggadocio behavior they are similar.

There’s a lot of discussion in the text of his clothes—how was that realized in production?

I had a fantastic costume of rags and tatters. He was obsessed with his scarves: that was all part of the pretense—anything to take the eye away from what’s really going on. He loved anything flashy: he was like a magpie. The first scene he has, with Helen, has a lot of rather dense, jokey stuff about virginity. I’m quite neurotic and I can get quite inhibited in rehearsal, which is not particularly helpful to the director or anyone else! That’s a very naked scene to do, to come on and launch into all that stuff. So Greg Doran gave me something to do. He gave me a great big trunk with scarves hanging out of it. Parolles was going away with the soldiers so he was taking everything he could from his wardrobe. I would pull this trunk onstage and be packing a few things into it and then sit on it. Having something to tie the scene to and then having somewhere to sit naturally on a bare stage gave the scene, and the rehearsal of the scene, an anchor. And I think visually it told quite a bit about Parolles that out of everybody he had the biggest trunk!

Your Parolles was very funny and widely praised—how did you handle the scenes in which he’s captured, blindfolded, and then mercilessly exposed?

He was brought in blindfolded on a cart. It was a really hard scene to make work. He is changed by it. He’s stripped of all his braggadocio behavior. He thinks he’s going to die and experiences abject terror. It’s a difficult scene to play because you should try to make it as cruel and as unpleasant and frightening for him as possible. Of course it’s also funny as well. It needs to be played with nothing held back.

Do you think the designation of All’s Well as a “problem” play is justified and why do you think it’s so rarely been performed?

In the same way that The Taming of the Shrew has its problems with modern sensibilities, I think people find the character of Bertram and his rejection of Helen difficult. It was very well played by Jamie Glover in our production, although I think he did consider it one of the more thankless parts because everybody hates you! Bertram’s fiendishly difficult for a modern audience to like and that might be part of the reason for its comparative rarity in performance. But I’ve done several plays with Greg [Doran]—Henry VIII, King John, All’s Well—that are all very rarely performed but, without wishing to sound arrogant, when we had a go at them and tried to play the truth and the humor of them, you couldn’t see why people think they are problematic. Audiences love them and I think it’s exciting to explore the plays that are done less frequently.

* St. Cloud: a suburb of Paris, known for wealth and high living. * The lines of the “conditioned couplet” are: “If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, / I’ll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly” (5.3.347–48).

SHAKESPEARE’S CAREER

IN THE THEATER

BEGINNINGS

William Shakespeare was an extraordinarily intelligent man who was born and died in an ordinary market town in the English Midlands. He lived an uneventful life in an eventful age. Born in April 1564, he was the eldest son of John Shakespeare, a glove maker who was prominent on the town council until he fell into financial difficulties. Young William was educated at the local grammar in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, where he gained a thorough grounding in the Latin language, the art of rhetoric, and classical poetry. He married Ann Hathaway and had three children (Susanna, then the twins Hamnet and Judith) before his twenty-first birthday: an exceptionally young age for the period. We do not know how he supported his family in the mid-1580s.

Like many clever country boys, he moved to the city in order to make his way in the world. Like many creative people, he found a career in the entertainment business. Public playhouses and professional full-time acting companies reliant on the market for their income were born in Shakespeare’s childhood. When he arrived in London as a man, sometime in the late 1580s, a new phenomenon was in the making: the actor who is so successful that he becomes a “star.” The word did not exist in its modern sense, but the pattern is recognizable: audiences went to the theater not so much to see a particular show as to witness the comedian Richard Tarlton or the dramatic actor Edward Alleyn.

Shakespeare was an actor before he was a writer. It appears not to have been long before he realized that he was never going to grow into a great comedian like Tarlton or a great tragedian like Alleyn. Instead, he found a role within his company as the man who patched up old plays, breathing new life, new dramatic twists, into tired repertory pieces. He paid close attention to the work of the university-educated dramatists who were writing history plays and tragedies for the public stage in a style more ambitious, sweeping, and poetically grand than anything that had been seen before. But he may also have noted that what his friend and rival Ben Jonson would call “Marlowe’s mighty line” sometimes faltered in the mode of comedy. Going to university, as Christopher Marlowe did, was all well and good for honing the arts of rhetorical elaboration and classical allusion, but it could lead to a loss of the common touch. To stay close to a large segment of the potential audience for public theater, it was necessary to write for clowns as well as kings and to intersperse the flights of poetry with the humor of the tavern, the privy, and the brothel: Shakespeare was the first to establish himself early in his career as an equal master of tragedy, comedy, and history. He realized that theater could be the medium to make the national past available to a wider audience than the elite who could afford to read large history books: his signature early works include not only the classical tragedy Titus Andronicus but also the sequence of English historical plays on the Wars of the Roses.

He also invented a new role for himself, that of in-house company dramatist. Where his peers and predecessors had to sell their plays to the theater managers on a poorly paid piecework basis, Shakespeare took a percentage of the box-office income. The Lord Chamberlain’s Men constituted themselves in 1594 as a joint stock company, with the profits being distributed among the core actors who had invested as sharers. Shakespeare acted himself—he appears in the cast lists of some of Ben Jonson’s plays as well as the list of actors’ names at the beginning of his own collected works—but his principal duty was to write two or three plays a year for the company. By holding shares, he was effectively earning himself a royalty on his work, something no author had ever done before in England. When the Lord Chamberlain’s Men collected their fee for performance at court in the Christmas season of 1594, three of them went along to the Treasurer of the Chamber: not just Richard Burbage the tragedian and Will Kempe the clown, but also Shakespeare the scriptwriter. That was something new.

The next four years were the golden period in Shakespeare’s career, though overshadowed by the death of his only son, Hamnet, aged eleven, in 1596. In his early thirties and in full command of both his poetic and his theatrical medium, he perfected his art of comedy, while also developing his tragic and historical writing in new ways. In 1598, Francis Meres, a Cambridge University graduate with his finger on the pulse of the London literary world, praised Shakespeare for his excellence across the genres:

As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for comedy and tragedy among the Latins, so Shakespeare among the English is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage; for comedy, witness his Gentlemen of Verona, his Errors, his Love Labours Lost, his Love Labours Won, his Midsummer Night Dream and his Merchant of Venice: for tragedy his Richard the 2, Richard the 3, Henry the 4, King John, Titus Andronicus and his Romeo and Juliet.

For Meres, as for the many writers who praised the “honey-flowing vein” of Venus and Adonis and Lucrece, narrative poems written when the theaters were closed due to plague in 1593–94, Shakespeare was marked above all by his linguistic skill, by the gift of turning elegant poetic phrases.

PLAYHOUSES

Elizabethan playhouses were “thrust” or “one-room” theaters. To understand Shakespeare’s original theatrical life, we have to forget about the indoor theater of later times, with its proscenium arch and curtain that would be opened at the beginning and closed at the end of each act. In the proscenium arch theater, stage and auditorium are effectively two separate rooms: the audience looks from one world into another as if through the imaginary “fourth wall” framed by the proscenium. The picture-frame stage, together with the elaborate scenic effects and backdrops beyond it, created the illusion of a self-contained world—especially once nineteenth-century developments in the control of artificial lighting meant that the auditorium could be darkened and the spectators made to focus on the lighted stage. Shakespeare, by contrast, wrote for a bare platform stage with a standing audience gathered around it in a courtyard in full daylight. The audience were always conscious of themselves and their fellow spectators, and they shared the same “room” as the actors. A sense of immediate presence and the creation of rapport with the audience were all-important. The actor could not afford to imagine he was in a closed world, with silent witnesses dutifully observing him from the darkness.

Shakespeare’s theatrical career began at the Rose Theatre in Southwark. The stage was wide and shallow, trapezoid in shape, like a lozenge. This design had a great deal of potential for the theatrical equivalent of cinematic split-screen effects, whereby one group of characters would enter at the door at one end of the tiring-house wall at the back of the stage and another group through the door at the other end, thus creating two rival tableaux. Many of the battle-heavy and faction-filled plays that premiered at the Rose have scenes of just this sort.

At the rear of the Rose stage, there were three capacious exits, each over ten feet wide. Unfortunately, the very limited excavation of a fragmentary portion of the original Globe site, in 1989, revealed nothing about the stage. The first Globe was built in 1599 with similar proportions to those of another theater, the Fortune, albeit that the former was polygonal and looked circular, whereas the latter was rectangular. The building contract for the Fortune survives and allows us to infer that the stage of the Globe was probably substantially wider than it was deep (perhaps forty-three feet wide and twenty-seven feet deep). It may well have been tapered at the front, like that of the Rose.

The capacity of the Globe was said to have been enormous, perhaps in excess of three thousand. It has been conjectured that about eight hundred people may have stood in the yard, with two thousand or more in the three layers of covered galleries. The other “public” playhouses were also of large capacity, whereas the indoor Blackfriars theater that Shakespeare’s company began using in 1608—the former refectory of a monastery—had overall internal dimensions of a mere forty-six by sixty feet. It would have made for a much more intimate theatrical experience and had a much smaller capacity, probably of about six hundred people. Since they paid at least sixpence a head, the Blackfriars attracted a more select or “private” audience. The atmosphere would have been closer to that of an indoor performance before the court in the Whitehall Palace or at Richmond. That Shakespeare always wrote for indoor production at court as well as outdoor performance in the public theater should make us cautious about inferring, as some scholars have, that the opportunity provided by the intimacy of the Blackfriars led to a significant change toward a “chamber” style in his last plays—which, besides, were performed at both the Globe and the Blackfriars. After the occupation of the Blackfriars a five-act structure seems to have become more important to Shakespeare. That was because of artificial lighting: there were musical interludes between the acts, while the candles were trimmed and replaced. Again, though, something similar must have been necessary for indoor court performances throughout his career.

Front of house there were the “gatherers” who collected the money from audience members: a penny to stand in the open-air yard, another penny for a place in the covered galleries, sixpence for the prominent “lord’s rooms” to the side of the stage. In the indoor “private” theaters, gallants from the audience who fancied making themselves part of the spectacle sat on stools on the edge of the stage itself. Scholars debate as to how widespread this practice was in the public theaters such as the Globe. Once the audience were in place and the money counted, the gatherers were available to be extras onstage. That is one reason why battles and crowd scenes often come later rather than early in Shakespeare’s plays. There was no formal prohibition upon performance by women, and there certainly were women among the gatherers, so it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that female crowd members were played by females.

The play began at two o’clock in the afternoon and the theater had to be cleared by five. After the main show, there would be a jig—which consisted not only of dancing but also of knockabout comedy (it is the origin of the farcical “afterpiece” in the eighteenth-century theater). So the time available for a Shakespeare play was about two and a half hours, somewhere between the “two hours’ traffic” mentioned in the prologue to Romeo and Juliet and the “three hours’ spectacle” referred to in the preface to the 1647 Folio of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays. The prologue to a play by Thomas Middleton refers to a thousand lines as “one hour’s words,” so the likelihood is that about two and a half thousand, or a maximum of three thousand lines, made up the performed text. This is indeed the length of most of Shakespeare’s comedies, whereas many of his tragedies and histories are much longer, raising the possibility that he wrote full scripts, possibly with eventual publication in mind, in the full knowledge that the stage version would be heavily cut. The short Quarto texts published in his lifetime—they used to be called “Bad” Quartos—provide fascinating evidence as to the kind of cutting that probably took place. So, for instance, the First Quarto of Hamlet neatly merges two occasions when Hamlet is overheard, the “Fishmonger” and the “nunnery” scenes.

The social composition of the audience was mixed. The poet Sir John Davies wrote of “A thousand townsmen, gentlemen and whores, / Porters and servingmen” who would “together throng” at the public playhouses. Though moralists associated female play-going with adultery and the sex trade, many perfectly respectable citizens’ wives were regular attendees. Some, no doubt, resembled the modern groupie: a story attested in two different sources has one citizen’s wife making a post-show assignation with Richard Burbage and ending up in bed with Shakespeare—supposedly eliciting from the latter the quip that William the Conqueror was before Richard III. Defenders of theater liked to say that by witnessing the comeuppance of villains on the stage, audience members would repent of their own wrongdoings, but the reality is that most people went to the theater then, as they do now, for entertainment more than moral edification. Besides, it would be foolish to suppose that audiences behaved in a homogeneous way: a pamphlet of the 1630s tells of how two men went to see Pericles and one of them laughed while the other wept. Bishop John Hall complained that people went to church for the same reasons that they went to the theater: “for company, for custom, for recreation … to feed his eyes or his ears … or perhaps for sleep.”

Men-about-town and clever young lawyers went to be seen as much as to see. In the modern popular imagination, shaped not least by Shakespeare in Love and the opening sequence of Laurence Olivier’s Henry V film, the penny-paying groundlings stand in the yard hurling abuse or encouragement and hazelnuts or orange peel at the actors, while the sophisticates in the covered galleries appreciate Shakespeare’s soaring poetry. The reality was probably the other way around. A “groundling” was a kind of fish, so the nickname suggests the penny audience standing below the level of the stage and gazing in silent open-mouthed wonder at the spectacle unfolding above them. The more difficult audience members, who kept up a running commentary of clever remarks on the performance and who occasionally got into quarrels with players, were the gallants. Like Hollywood movies in modern times, Elizabethan and Jacobean plays exercised a powerful influence on the fashion and behavior of the young. John Marston mocks the lawyers who would open their lips, perhaps to court a girl, and out would “flow / Naught but pure Juliet and Romeo.”

THE ENSEMBLE AT WORK

In the absence of typewriters and photocopying machines, reading aloud would have been the means by which the company got to know a new play. The tradition of the playwright reading his complete script to the assembled company endured for generations. A copy would then have been taken to the Master of the Revels for licensing. The theater book-holder or prompter would then have copied the parts for distribution to the actors. A partbook consisted of the character’s lines, with each speech preceded by the last three or four words of the speech before, the so-called “cue.” These would have been taken away and studied or “conned.” During this period of learning the parts, an actor might have had some one-to-one instruction, perhaps from the dramatist, perhaps from a senior actor who had played the same part before, and, in the case of an apprentice, from his master. A high percentage of Desdemona’s lines occur in dialogue with Othello, of Lady Macbeth’s with Macbeth, Cleopatra’s with Antony, and Volumnia’s with Coriolanus. The roles would almost certainly have been taken by the apprentice of the lead actor, usually Burbage, who delivers the majority of the cues. Given that apprentices lodged with their masters, there would have been ample opportunity for personal instruction, which may be what made it possible for young men to play such demanding parts.

9. Hypothetical reconstruction of the interior of an Elizabethan playhouse during a performance.

After the parts were learned, there may have been no more than a single rehearsal before the first performance. With six different plays to be put on every week, there was no time for more. Actors, then, would go into a show with a very limited sense of the whole. The notion of a collective rehearsal process that is itself a process of discovery for the actors is wholly modern and would have been incomprehensible to Shakespeare and his original ensemble. Given the number of parts an actor had to hold in his memory, the forgetting of lines was probably more frequent than in the modern theater. The book-holder was on hand to prompt.

Backstage personnel included the property man, the tire-man who oversaw the costumes, call boys, attendants, and the musicians, who might play at various times from the main stage, the rooms above, and within the tiring-house. Scriptwriters sometimes made a nuisance of themselves backstage. There was often tension between the acting companies and the freelance playwrights from whom they purchased scripts: it was a smart move on the part of Shakespeare and the Lord Chamberlain’s Men to bring the writing process in-house.

Scenery was limited, though sometimes set pieces were brought on (a bank of flowers, a bed, the mouth of hell). The trapdoor from below, the gallery stage above, and the curtained discovery-space at the back allowed for an array of special effects: the rising of ghosts and apparitions, the descent of gods, dialogue between a character at a window and another at ground level, the revelation of a statue or a pair of lovers playing at chess. Ingenious use could be made of props, as with the ass’s head in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In a theater that does not clutter the stage with the material paraphernalia of everyday life, those objects that are deployed may take on powerful symbolic weight, as when Shylock bears his weighing scales in one hand and knife in the other, thus becoming a parody of the figure of Justice who traditionally bears a sword and a balance. Among the more significant items in the property cupboard of Shakespeare’s company, there would have been a throne (the “chair of state”), joint stools, books, bottles, coins, purses, letters (which are brought onstage, read, or referred to on about eighty occasions in the complete works), maps, gloves, a set of stocks (in which Kent is put in King Lear), rings, rapiers, daggers, broadswords, staves, pistols, masks and vizards, heads and skulls, torches and tapers and lanterns which served to signal night scenes on the daylit stage, a buck’s head, an ass’s head, animal costumes. Live animals also put in appearances, most notably the dog Crab in The Two Gentlemen of Verona and possibly a young polar bear in The Winter’s Tale.

The costumes were the most important visual dimension of the play. Playwrights were paid between £2 and £6 per script, whereas Alleyn was not averse to paying £20 for “a black velvet cloak with sleeves embroidered all with silver and gold.” No matter the period of the play, actors always wore contemporary costume. The excitement for the audience came not from any impression of historical accuracy, but from the richness of the attire and perhaps the trans-gressive thrill of the knowledge that here were commoners like themselves strutting in the costumes of courtiers in effective defiance of the strict sumptuary laws whereby in real life people had to wear the clothes that befitted their social station.

To an even greater degree than props, costumes could carry symbolic importance. Racial characteristics could be suggested: a breastplate and helmet for a Roman soldier, a turban for a Turk, long robes for exotic characters such as Moors, a gabardine for a Jew. The figure of Time, as in The Winter’s Tale, would be equipped with hourglass, scythe, and wings; Rumour, who speaks the prologue of 2 Henry IV, wore a costume adorned with a thousand tongues. The wardrobe in the tiring-house of the Globe would have contained much of the same stock as that of rival manager Philip Henslowe at the Rose: green gowns for outlaws and foresters, black for melancholy men such as Jaques and people in mourning such as the Countess in All’s Well That Ends Well (at the beginning of Hamlet, the prince is still in mourning black when everyone else is in festive garb for the wedding of the new king), a gown and hood for a friar (or a feigned friar like the duke in Measure for Measure), blue coats and tawny to distinguish the followers of rival factions, a leather apron and ruler for a carpenter (as in the opening scene of Julius Caesar—and in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, where this is the only sign that Peter Quince is a carpenter), a cockle hat with staff and a pair of sandals for a pilgrim or palmer (the disguise assumed by Helen in All’s Well), bodices and kirtles with farthingales beneath for the boys who are to be dressed as girls. A gender switch such as that of Rosalind or Jessica seems to have taken between fifty and eighty lines of dialogue—Viola does not resume her “maiden weeds,” but remains in her boy’s costume to the end of Twelfth Night because a change would have slowed down the action at just the moment it was speeding to a climax. Henslowe’s inventory also included “a robe for to go invisible”: Oberon, Puck, and Ariel must have had something similar.

As the costumes appealed to the eyes, so there was music for the ears. Comedies included many songs. Desdemona’s willow song, perhaps a late addition to the text, is a rare and thus exceptionally poignant example from tragedy. Trumpets and tuckets sounded for ceremonial entrances, drums denoted an army on the march. Background music could create atmosphere, as at the beginning of Twelfth Night, during the lovers’ dialogue near the end of The Merchant of Venice, when the statue seemingly comes to life in The Winter’s Tale, and for the revival of Pericles and of Lear (in the Quarto text, but not the Folio). The haunting sound of the hautboy suggested a realm beyond the human, as when the god Hercules is imagined deserting Mark Antony. Dances symbolized the harmony of the end of a comedy—though in Shakespeare’s world of mingled joy and sorrow, someone is usually left out of the circle.

The most important resource was, of course, the actors themselves. They needed many skills: in the words of one contemporary commentator, “dancing, activity, music, song, elocution, ability of body, memory, skill of weapon, pregnancy of wit.” Their bodies were as significant as their voices. Hamlet tells the player to “suit the action to the word, the word to the action”: moments of strong emotion, known as “passions,” relied on a repertoire of dramatic gestures as well as a modulation of the voice. When Titus Andronicus has had his hand chopped off, he asks, “How can I grace my talk, / Wanting a hand to give it action?” A pen portrait of “The Character of an Excellent Actor” by the dramatist John Webster is almost certainly based on his impression of Shakespeare’s leading man, Richard Burbage: “By a full and significant action of body, he charms our attention: sit in a full theatre, and you will think you see so many lines drawn from the circumference of so many ears, whiles the actor is the centre.…”

Though Burbage was admired above all others, praise was also heaped upon the apprentice players whose alto voices fitted them for the parts of women. A spectator at Oxford in 1610 records how the audience were reduced to tears by the pathos of Desdemona’s death. The puritans who fumed about the biblical prohibition upon cross-dressing and the encouragement to sodomy constituted by the sight of an adult male kissing a teenage boy onstage were a small minority. Little is known, however, about the characteristics of the leading apprentices in Shakespeare’s company. It may perhaps be inferred that one was a lot taller than the other, since Shakespeare often wrote for a pair of female friends, one tall and fair, the other short and dark (Helena and Hermia, Rosalind and Celia, Beatrice and Hero).

We know little about Shakespeare’s own acting roles—an early allusion indicates that he often took royal parts, and a venerable tradition gives him old Adam in As You Like It and the ghost of old King Hamlet. Save for Burbage’s lead roles and the generic part of the clown, all such castings are mere speculation. We do not even know for sure whether the original Falstaff was Will Kempe or another actor who specialized in comic roles, Thomas Pope.

Kempe left the company in early 1599. Tradition has it that he fell out with Shakespeare over the matter of excessive improvisation. He was replaced by Robert Armin, who was less of a clown and more of a cerebral wit: this explains the difference between such parts as Lancelet Gobbo and Dogberry, which were written for Kempe, and the more verbally sophisticated Feste and Lear’s Fool, which were written for Armin.

One thing that is clear from surviving “plots” or storyboards of plays from the period is that a degree of doubling was necessary. 2 Henry VI has over sixty speaking parts, but more than half of the characters appear only in a single scene and most scenes have only six to eight speakers. At a stretch, the play could be performed by thirteen actors. When Thomas Platter saw Julius Caesar at the Globe in 1599, he noted that there were about fifteen. Why doesn’t Paris go to the Capulet ball in Romeo and Juliet? Perhaps because he was doubled with Mercutio, who does. In The Winter’s Tale, Mamillius might have come back as Perdita and Antigonus been doubled by Camillo, making the partnership with Paulina at the end a very neat touch. Titania and Oberon are often played by the same pair as Hippolyta and Theseus, suggesting a symbolic matching of the rulers of the worlds of night and day, but it is questionable whether there would have been time for the necessary costume changes. As so often, one is left in a realm of tantalizing speculation.

THE KING’S MAN

On Queen Elizabeth’s death in 1603, the new king, James I, who had held the Scottish throne as James VI since he had been an infant, immediately took the Lord Chamberlain’s Men under his direct patronage. Henceforth they would be the King’s Men, and for the rest of Shakespeare’s career they were favored with far more court performances than any of their rivals. There even seem to have been rumors early in the reign that Shakespeare and Burbage were being considered for knighthoods, an unprecedented honor for mere actors—and one that in the event was not accorded to a member of the profession for nearly three hundred years, when the title was bestowed upon Henry Irving, the leading Shakespearean actor of Queen Victoria’s reign.

Shakespeare’s productivity rate slowed in the Jacobean years, not because of age or some personal trauma, but because there were frequent outbreaks of plague, causing the theaters to be closed for long periods. The King’s Men were forced to spend many months on the road. Between November 1603 and 1608, they were to be found at various towns in the south and Midlands, though Shakespeare probably did not tour with them by this time. He had bought a large house back home in Stratford and was accumulating other property. He may indeed have stopped acting soon after the new king took the throne. With the London theaters closed so much of the time and a large repertoire on the stocks, Shakespeare seems to have focused his energies on writing a few long and complex tragedies that could have been played on demand at court: Othello, King Lear, Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, and Cymbeline are among his longest and poetically grandest plays. Macbeth survives only in a shorter text, which shows signs of adaptation after Shakespeare’s death. The bitterly satirical Timon of Athens, apparently a collaboration with Thomas Middleton that may have failed on the stage, also belongs to this period. In comedy, too, he wrote longer and morally darker works than in the Elizabethan period, pushing at the very bounds of the form in Measure for Measure and All’s Well That Ends Well.

From 1608 onward, when the King’s Men began occupying the indoor Blackfriars playhouse (as a winter house, meaning that they only used the outdoor Globe in summer?), Shakespeare turned to a more romantic style. His company had a great success with a revived and altered version of an old pastoral play called Mucedorus. It even featured a bear. The younger dramatist John Fletcher, meanwhile, sometimes working in collaboration with Francis Beaumont, was pioneering a new style of tragicomedy, a mix of romance and royalism laced with intrigue and pastoral excursions. Shakespeare experimented with this idiom in Cymbeline, and it was presumably with his blessing that Fletcher eventually took over as the King’s Men’s company dramatist. The two writers apparently collaborated on three plays in the years 1612–14: a lost romance called Cardenio (based on the love-madness of a character in Cervantes’ Don Quixote), Henry VIII (originally staged with the title “All Is True”), and The Two Noble Kinsmen, a dramatization of Chaucer’s “Knight’s Tale.” These were written after Shakespeare’s two final solo-authored plays, The Winter’s Tale, a self-consciously old-fashioned work dramatizing the pastoral romance of his old enemy Robert Greene, and The Tempest, which at one and the same time drew together multiple theatrical traditions, diverse reading, and contemporary interest in the fate of a ship that had been wrecked on the way to the New World.

The collaborations with Fletcher suggest that Shakespeare’s career ended with a slow fade rather than the sudden retirement supposed by the nineteenth-century Romantic critics who read Prospero’s epilogue to The Tempest as Shakespeare’s personal farewell to his art. In the last few years of his life Shakespeare certainly spent more of his time in Stratford-upon-Avon, where he became further involved in property dealing and litigation. But his London life also continued. In 1613 he made his first major London property purchase: a freehold house in the Blackfriars district, close to his company’s indoor theater. The Two Noble Kinsmen may have been written as late as 1614, and Shakespeare was in London on business a little over a year before he died of an unknown cause at home in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1616, probably on his fifty-second birthday.

About half the sum of his works were published in his lifetime, in texts of variable quality. A few years after his death, his fellow actors began putting together an authorized edition of his complete Comedies, Histories and Tragedies. It appeared in 1623, in large “Folio” format. This collection of thirty-six plays gave Shakespeare his immortality. In the words of his fellow dramatist Ben Jonson, who contributed two poems of praise at the start of the Folio, the body of his work made him “a monument without a tomb”:

And art alive still while thy book doth live

And we have wits to read and praise to give …

He was not of an age, but for all time!

SHAKESPEARE’S WORKS:

A CHRONOLOGY

1589–91

? Arden of Faversham (possible part authorship)

1589–92

The Taming of the Shrew

1589–92

? Edward the Third (possible part authorship)

1591

The Second Part of Henry the Sixth, originally called The First Part of the Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster (element of coauthorship possible)

1591

The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, originally called The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York (element of co-authorship probable)

1591–92

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

1591–92; perhaps revised 1594

The Lamentable Tragedy of Titus Andronicus (probably cowritten with, or revising an earlier version by, George Peele)

1592

The First Part of Henry the Sixth, probably with Thomas Nashe and others

1592/94

King Richard the Third

1593

Venus and Adonis (poem)

1593–94

The Rape of Lucrece (poem)

1593–1608

Sonnets (154 poems, published 1609 with A Lover’s Complaint, a poem of disputed authorship)

1592–94/1600–03

Sir Thomas More (a single scene for a play originally by Anthony Munday, with other revisions by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, and Thomas Heywood)

1594

The Comedy of Errors

1595

Love’s Labour’s Lost

1595–97

Love’s Labour’s Won (a lost play, unless the original title for another comedy)

1595–96

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

1595–96

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet

1595–96

King Richard the Second

1595–97

The Life and Death of King John (possibly earlier)

1596–97

The Merchant of Venice

1596–97

The First Part of Henry the Fourth

1597–98

The Second Part of Henry the Fourth

1598

Much Ado About Nothing

1598–99

The Passionate Pilgrim (20 poems, some not by Shakespeare)

1599

The Life of Henry the Fifth

1599

“To the Queen” (epilogue for a court performance)

1599

As You Like It

1599

The Tragedy of Julius Caesar

1600–01

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (perhaps revising an earlier version)

1600–01

The Merry Wives of Windsor (perhaps revising version of 1597–99)

1601

“Let the Bird of Loudest Lay” (poem, known since 1807 as “The Phoenix and Turtle” [turtledove])

1601

Twelfth Night, or What You Will

1601–02

The Tragedy of Troilus and Cressida

1604

The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice

1604

Measure for Measure

1605

All’s Well That Ends Well

1605

The Life of Timon of Athens, with Thomas Middleton

1605–06

The Tragedy of King Lear

1605–08

? contribution to The Four Plays in One (lost, except for A Yorkshire Tragedy, mostly by Thomas Middleton)

1606

The Tragedy of Macbeth (surviving text has additional scenes by Thomas Middleton)

1606–07

The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra

1608

The Tragedy of Coriolanus

1608

Pericles, Prince of Tyre, with George Wilkins

1610

The Tragedy of Cymbeline

1611

The Winter’s Tale

1611

The Tempest

1612–13

Cardenio, with John Fletcher (survives only in later adaptation called Double Falsehood by Lewis Theobald)

1613

Henry VIII (All Is True), with John Fletcher

1613–14

The Two Noble Kinsmen, with John Fletcher

FURTHER READING

AND VIEWING

CRITICAL APPROACHES

Calderwood, James L., “Styles of Knowing in All’s Well,” Modern Language Quarterly 25, September 1964, pp. 272–94. Examines the play’s various problems in relation to Shakespeare’s narrative poem, Venus and Adonis, and the importance of literal, symbolic, and self-knowledge.

Cole, Howard C., The All’s Well Story from Boccaccio to Shakespeare (1981). Thorough review of all the source material.

Findlay, Alison, A Feminist Perspective on Renaissance Drama (1999). Discusses All’s Well in relation to female self-fashioning, pp. 91–100.

Frye, Northrop, The Myth of Deliverance: Reflections on Shakespeare’s Problem Comedies (1983). Brilliant analysis of comedy in terms of mythic structures and cultural history across a broad terrain of classical literary texts, arguing that All’s Well is untypical in its emphasis on social change.

Haley, David, Shakespeare’s Courtly Mirror: Reflexivity and Prudence in All’s Well That Ends Well (1993). Argues the play offers a critical analysis of courtly society.

Hopkins, Lisa, The Shakespearean Marriage: Merry Wives and Heavy Husbands (1998). Examines all aspects of contemporary marriage and its significance in Shakespeare’s plays: All’s Well is treated at pp. 56–62 and passim.

McCandless, David, “Helena’s Bed-Trick: Gender and Performance in All’s Well That Ends Well,” Shakespeare Quarterly 45 (1994), pp. 449–68. Theoretically informed exploration of the problematic nature of Helen’s physical desire and its representation in performance, including the possibility of staging the bed trick.

Muir, Kenneth, ed., Shakespeare: The Comedies (1965). Collection of distinguished earlier critical essays, including M. C. Bradbrook, “Virtue Is the True Nobility: A Study in the Structure of All’s Well,” pp. 119–32, and G. Wilson Knight’s “Helena,” pp. 133–51.

Price, Joseph G., The Unfortunate Comedy: A Study of All’s Well That Ends Well and Its Critics (1968). Dated but still useful: Part I covers stage history, including chapters on the Kemble “Text” and “All’s Well in America.” Part II discusses the critical history to 1964.

Rossiter, A. P., Angel with Horns, and Other Shakespeare Lectures, ed. Graham Storey (1961). Chapter 5 on All’s Well, pp. 82–107, discusses the significance of Shakespeare’s various “additions” and “alterations” to his source material in order to elucidate its problematic nature and deeper philosophical strain.

Waller, Gary, “From ‘the Unfortunate Comedy’ to ‘this Infinitely Fascinating Play,’ the Critical and Theatrical Emergence of All’s Well That Ends Well,” in All’s Well That Ends Well: New Critical Essays (2007), pp. 1–56. Excellent, varied collection of essays, covering aspects of the play from structure to genre, religion, gender politics, and performance.

Zitner, Sheldon P., All’s Well That Ends Well: Harvester New Critical Introductions to Shakespeare (1989). Good overview of play’s critical reception and discussion of its status as a “problem play.”

THE PLAY IN PERFORMANCE

Dobson, Michael, “Shakespeare Performances in England, 2004,” in Shakespeare Survey 58 (2005), pp. 268–297. Detailed, thoughtful discussion.

Magoulias, Michael, ed., Shakespearean Criticism 26 (1995). Useful overview of stage history with a good selection of reviews.

Price, Joseph G., The Unfortunate Comedy: A Study of All’s Well That Ends Well (1968). Dated but still useful: Part I covers stage history, including chapters on the Kemble “Text” and “All’s Well in America.” Part II discusses the critical history to 1964.

Styan, J. L., Shakespeare in Performance: All’s Well that Ends Well (1984). Detailed analysis of the play in performance, focusing on important twentieth-century productions.

Waller, Gary, “The Critical and Theatrical Emergence of All’s Well That Ends Well,” in All’s Well That Ends Well: New Critical Essays (2007), pp. 1–56. Excellent, varied collection of essays, covering aspects of the play from structure to genre, religion, gender politics, and performance.

AVAILABLE ON DVD

All’s Well that Ends Well directed by Elijah Moshinsky for BBC Shakespeare (1981, DVD 2006). Starring Angela Down, Ian Charleson, Michael Hordern, Celia Johnson, and Donald Sinden, it won both BAFTA and RTS awards and was considered one of the best of the BBC Shakespeare series.

REFERENCES

1. The Works of Shakespeare, ed. Samuel Johnson (1765), vol. 3, p. 399.

2. A. W. Schlegel, Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature (1808–11), in The Romantics on Shakespeare, ed. Jonathan Bate (1992), p. 260.

3. George Bernard Shaw, letter to Janet Achurch, 23 April 1895. On Helen as proto-Ibsenite heroine, see The “Shakespearean Law,” in Shaw on Shakespeare: An Anthology of Bernard Shaw’s Writings on the Plays and Production of Shakespeare, ed. Edwin Wilson (1961), p. 240.

4. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Lectures and Notes on Shakspere and Other English Poets, ed. T. Ashe (1900), p. 298.

5. Coleridge, from Table-Talk, 1 July 1833, in Coleridge’s Criticism of Shakespeare: A Selection, ed. R. A. Foakes (1989), p. 176.

6. Anna Jameson, Characteristics of Women: Moral, Poetical, and Historical (1832, reprinted 1879), p. 125.

7. Ellen Terry, Four Lectures on Shakespeare (1932), cited by Joseph G. Price, The Unfortunate Comedy: A Study of All’s Well That Ends Well and its Critics (1968), pp. 99–100.

8. Coleridge, Table-Talk, p. 176.

9. Sheldon P. Zitner, All’s Well That Ends Well (1989), p. 13.

10. Price, The Unfortunate Comedy, p. 134.

11. Price, The Unfortunate Comedy, p. 135.

12. James L. Calderwood, “Styles of Knowing in All’s Well,” Modern Language Quarterly 25 (1964), p. 274.

13. W. W. Lawrence, Shakespeare’s Problem Comedies (1931), p. 32.

14. David McCandless, “Helena’s Bed-Trick: Gender and Performance in All’s Well That Ends Well,” Shakespeare Quarterly, 45 (1994), p. 450.

15. Barbara Everitt, ed., All’s Well That Ends Well (1970), p. 16.

16. A. P. Rossiter, Angel with Horns, and other Shakespeare Lectures (1961), p. 87.

17. R. B. Parker, “War and Sex in All’s Well That Ends Well,” Shakespeare Survey 37 (1984), p. 105.

18. Northrop Frye, The Myth of Deliverance: Reflections on Shakespeare’s Problem Comedies (1983), p. 49.

19. Frye, The Myth of Deliverance, p. 55.

20. Rossiter, Angel with Horns, p. 85.

21. J. Dennis Huston, “ ‘Some Stain of Soldier’: The Functions of Parolles in All’s Well That Ends Well,” Shakespeare Quarterly 21 (1970), p. 433.

22. Frye, The Myth of Deliverance, p. 52.

23. Calderwood, “Styles of Knowing in All’s Well,” p. 274.

24. John Barton, in “Directing Problem Plays: John Barton talks to Gareth Lloyd Evans” (1972), in Aspects of Shakespeare’s “Problem Plays,” ed. Kenneth Muir and Stanley Wells (1982), p. 5.

25. Athenaeum, No. 1297, 4 September 1852, p. 955.

26. William Archer, review of All’s Well That Ends Well, in The Theatrical “World” of 1895 (1896), pp. 37–41.

27. George Bernard Shaw, “Poor Shakespear!,” in Our Theatres in the Nineties, Vol. I (1932), pp. 24–30.

28. Joseph G. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity,” in The Unfortunate Comedy: A Study of All’s Well That Ends Well and Its Critics (1968), pp. 43–72.

29. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

30. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

31. Robert Speaight, William Poel and the Elizabethan Revival (1954), quoted in Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

32. T. Moult, Athenaeum, 4 June 1920, quoted in Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

33. John Francis Hope, The New Age, Vol. XXX, No. 7, 15 December 1921, p. 82.

34. Hope, The New Age.

35. Hope, The New Age.

36. J. C. Trewin, The Birmingham Repertory Theatre: 1913–63 (1963), p. 90.

37. Trewin, The Birmingham Repertory Theatre.

38. Ivor Brown, Punch, Vol. CXCIX, No. 5, 195, 16 October 1940, p. 388.

39. Brown, Punch, Vol. CXCIX, No. 5, 195, 16 October 1940, p. 388.

40. Alan Dent, Manchester Guardian, October 1940, reprinted in Preludes & Studies (1942), pp. 102–29 and 121–22.

41. Herbert Whittaker, The Stratford Festival 1953–1957 (1958), pp. x–xv.

42. Tyrone Guthrie, “First Shakespeare Festival at Stratford, Ontario,” in Renown at Stratford: A Record of the Shakespeare Festival in Canada, 1953 (1953), p. 49.

43. Guthrie, “First Shakespeare Festival at Stratford, Ontario.”

44. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

45. Tyrone Guthrie, “Shakespeare at Stratford, Ontario,” in Shakespeare Survey 8 (1955), pp. 127–31.

46. Whittaker, The Stratford Festival 1953–1957.

47. Derek Monsey, Spectator 191(6535), 25 September 1953, pp. 322–23.

48. Roger Wood and Mary Clarke, Shakespeare at the Old Vic (1954), pp. 12–16.

49. Wood and Clarke, Shakespeare at the Old Vic.

50. Wood and Clarke, Shakespeare at the Old Vic.

51. Monsey, Spectator.

52. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

53. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

54. Price, “The Director and the Search for Unity.”

55. The Times (London), 22 April 1959.

56. A. Alvarez, New Statesman LVII(1,467), 25 April 1959.

57. M. St. Clare Byrne, “The Shakespeare Season at The Old Vic, 1958–59 and Stratford-upon-Avon, 1959,” Shakespeare Quarterly X, Autumn 1959, pp. 545–67.

58. Patrick Gibbs, New York Times, 22 April 1959.

59. St. Clare Byrne, “The Shakespeare Season at The Old Vic, 1958–59 and Stratford-upon-Avon, 1959.”

60. Alan Brien, Spectator 202(6826), 1959, pp. 577, 579.

61. Joseph G. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres,” in The Unfortunate Comedy: A Study of All’s Well That Ends Well and Its Critics (1968), pp. 43–72.

62. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres.”

63. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres.”

64. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres.”

65. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres.”

66. Price, “All’s Well in America and in the Minor Theatres.”

67. Henry Hewes, quoted in Shakespearean Criticism 26, 1995, p. 3.

68. G. K. Hunter, “A Review of All’s Well that Ends Well,” in Shakespeare on Television: An Anthology of Essays and Reviews, ed. J. C. Bulman and H. R. Coursen (1988), pp. 185–87.

69. Jeremy Treglown, “Camera Cuts,” Times Literary Supplement, 9 January 1981, p. 33.

70. Treglown, “Camera Cuts.”

71. Hunter, “A Review of All’s Well that Ends Well.”

72. Hunter, “A Review of All’s Well that Ends Well.”

73. Jeremy Gerard, Variety 352(2), 23 August 1993, p. 23.

74. Robert Brustein, New Republic 209(14), 14 October 1993, pp. 32–34.

75. Brustein, New Republic.

76. Gerard, Variety.

77. Brustein, New Republic.

78. Grevel Lindop, “Cold Wars and Boors,” Times Literary Supplement 4878, 27 September 1996, p. 19.

79. Lindop, “Cold Wars and Boors.”

80. Lindop, “Cold Wars and Boors.”

81. Robert Smallwood, “Shakespeare Performances in England, 1997,” Shakespeare Survey 51 (1998), pp. 219–55.

82. Smallwood, “Shakespeare Performances in England, 1997.”

83. Smallwood, “Shakespeare Performances in England, 1997.”

84. Michael Billington, Guardian, 29 May 2009.

85. Billington, Guardian, 29 May 2009.

86. Naomi Siegel, New York Times, Theater Review/NY Region, 24 September 2010.

87. Bob Rendell, Talkin’ Broadway, 29 September 2010.

88. Rendell, Talkin’ Broadway, 29 September 2010.

89. Siegel, New York Times, Theater Review/NY Region, 24 September 2010.

90. Siegel, New York Times, Theater Review/NY Region, 24 September 2010.

91. J. L. Styan, Shakespeare in Performance: All’s Well That Ends Well (1984), p. 1.

92. Birmingham Mail, 2 June 1967.

93. Desmond Pratt, Yorkshire Post, 2 June 1967.

94. J. C. Trewin, Illustrated London News, 10 June 1967.

95. Milton Schulman, Evening Standard, 2 June 1967.

96. Schulman, Evening Standard, 2 June 1967.

97. Michael Billington, Guardian, 7 July 1982.

98. Tom Vaughan, Morning Star, 8 July 1982.

99. Christopher Hudson, Standard, 7 July 1982.

100. J. L. Styan, Shakespeare in Performance: All’s Well that Ends Well (2007), pp. 115–16, quoting Roger Warren, Shakespeare Quarterly 34(1) (1983), p. 80.

101. James Fenton, Sunday Times (London), 11 July 1982.

102. B. A. Young, Financial Times, 6 July 1982.

103. Young, Financial Times, 6 July 1982.

104. John Barber, Daily Telegraph, 7 July 1982.

105. Gary Waller, All’s Well that Ends Well: New Critical Essays (2007), p. 23.

106. Charles Osborne, Daily Telegraph, 12 October 1989.

107. Paul Lapworth, Stratford Herald, 13 October 1989.

108. Waller, All’s Well That Ends Well, p. 23.

109. Michael Billington, Guardian, 12 October 1989.

110. Terry Grimley, Birmingham Post, 10 October 1989.

111. Paul Taylor, Independent, 12 October 1989.

112. Michael Coveney, Financial Times, 11 October 1989.

113. Billington, Guardian, 12 October 1989.

114. Michael Billington, Guardian, 3 July 1992.

115. Martin Dodsworth, Times Literary Supplement, 10 July 1992.

116. Margaret Ingram, Stratford Herald, 10 July 1992.

117. Charles Spencer, Daily Telegraph, 2 July 1992.

118. Dodsworth, Times Literary Supplement, 10 July 1992.

119. Terry Grimley, Birmingham Post, 2 July 1992.

120. Nicholas de Jongh, Evening Standard, 1 July 1992.

121. Billington, Guardian, 3 July 1992.

122. Malcolm Rutherford, Financial Times, 2 July 1992, p. 19.

123. Paul Taylor, Independent, 2 July 1992.

124. Dodsworth, Times Literary Supplement, 10 July 1992.

125. Michael Billington, Guardian, 12 December 2003.

126. Paul Taylor, Independent, 15 December 2003.

127. Robert Hewison, Sunday Times, 21 December 2003.

128. Kate Kellaway, Observer, 14 December 2003.

129. Hewison, Sunday Times, 21 December 2003.

130. Alastair Macaulay, Financial Times, 15 December 2003.

131. Nicholas de Jongh, Evening Standard, 12 December 2003.

132. Michael Dobson, Shakespeare Survey 58 (2005), p. 270.

133. Dobson, Shakespeare Survey 58, pp. 273–74.

134. Kellaway, Observer, 14 December 2003.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND

PICTURE CREDITS

Preparation of “All’s Well That Ends Well in Performance” was assisted by a generous grant from the CAPITAL Centre (Creativity and Performance in Teaching and Learning) of the University of Warwick for research in the RSC archive at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust. The second half of the introduction, “The Critics Debate,” draws extensively on a longer survey prepared for us by Sarah Carter.

Thanks as always to our indefatigable and eagle-eyed copy editor Tracey Day and to Ray Addicott for overseeing the production process with rigor and calmness.

Picture research by Michelle Morton. Grateful acknowledgment is made to the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust for assistance with picture research (special thanks to Helen Hargest) and reproduction fees.

Images of RSC productions are supplied by the Shakespeare Centre Library and Archive, Stratford-upon-Avon. This library, maintained by the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, holds the most important collection of Shakespeare material in the UK, including the Royal Shakespeare Company’s official archive. It is open to the public free of charge.

For more information see www.shakespeare.org.uk.

1. Directed by Tyrone Guthrie (1959). Angus McBean © Royal Shakespeare Company

2. Directed by John Barton (1967). Tom Holte © Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

3. Directed by Trevor Nunn (1981). Joe Cocks Studio Collection © Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

4. Directed by Barry Kyle (1989). Joe Cocks Studio Collection © Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

5. Directed by Peter Hall (1992). Malcolm Davies © Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

6. Directed by Stephen Fried (2010). © Gerry Goodstein

7. Directed by Gregory Doran (2003). Manuel Harlan © Royal Shakespeare Company

8. Directed by Gregory Doran (2003). Manuel Harlan © Royal Shakespeare Company

9. Reconstructed Elizabethan Playhouse © Charcoalblue

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List of parts

HELEN perhaps named after Helen of Troy, reputedly the most beautiful woman in the world and the cause of a great war LAFEW some editions modernize to “lafeu” (feu, French for “fire”)

Act 1 Scene 1

1.1 Location: Rossillion (now Roussillon), ancient province in southern France, near the Pyrenees mountains 1 delivering sending forth (plays on the sense of “giving birth”) 4 attend obey, heed 5 in ward under guardianship (as a minor who has inherited property) 5 subjection obedience, servitude as a subject/legal obligation 6 of in 6 husband i.e. protector 7 generally universally/to everyone 8 hold maintain 8 virtue benevolence 8 whose i.e. the Countess and Bertram 8 stir … wanted provoke it even in those who lacked generosity 9 where … abundance i.e. in the king 11 amendment recovery 13 practices medical treatments 13 persecuted time tormented his days/drawn out his suffering 17 passage turn of phrase/transition/event/death 18 honesty honor, integrity 20 Would I wish 24 Narbon Narbonne, southern French city near province of Roussillon 27 still yet/for ever 30 fistula ulcer 32 notorious widely known/evident 35 overlooking guardianship 35 hopes … good i.e. high hopes for her 36 education upbringing 36 dispositions natural talents 37 unclean naturally corrupted 38 virtuous qualities fine learned accomplishments 38 go with pity are mingled with regret 40 simpleness unaffected simplicity (i.e. not mixed with vice) 40 derives inherits 43 season preserve/flavor 45 livelihood animation 46 Go to expression of dismissal (i.e. “come come”) 47 affect assume/pretend to have 47 than to have rather than genuinely feel one 49 of due to 51 If … mortal i.e. if resisted, overabundant grief quickly dies 53 holy sacred/respected 54 How … that? What does that mean? (some editors suppose the line is displaced and that it may be a response to Helen or the Countess, not Bertram) 56 manners good conduct 56 shape physical appearance 56 Thy may thy 56 blood nobility/parentage 57 empire rule 58 birthright inherited qualities 59 able ready/powerful enough 60 power ability, potential 60 keep … key value your friend’s life as dearly as your own 61 checked rebuked 62 taxed censured 62 What whatever 62 more will wishes to give you in addition 63 pluck draw 65 unseasoned inexperienced 67 want lack 67 best i.e. best advice 68 his love my love for him 70 forged created, imagined 71 comfortable comforting, supportive 72 make much of be attentive to 73 hold maintain 73 credit reputation/honor 76 these … him i.e. the floods of tears she is shedding because of her unrequited love for Bertram do more honor to her father’s memory than did the (fewer) tears wept at his death 79 favour image, face (puns on the sense of “love token”) 80 undone ruined 81 ’Twere … That it is the same as if 84 collateral parallel but distant 85 sphere orbit (heavenly bodies were thought to be surrounded by hollow spheres that produced beautiful music as they rotated) 87 hind female deer (puns on sense of “servant”) 88 pretty pleasing 90 hawking sharp, keen 91 table notebook, drawing tablet 91 capable appreciative, sensitive 92 trick distinguishing feature 92 favour face 93 fancy love/infatuation 94 relics i.e. memory 94 Parolles i.e. “words,” from French paroles 95 his i.e. Bertram’s 97 great way complete 97 solely wholly 98 fixed certain, established 98 fit suitably 99 take place take precedence/are accepted 99 steely i.e. hard, uncompromising 100 Looks … wind are left out in the cold/look pale, unappealing 100 Withal therefore 100 full oft very often 101 waiting on attending, deferring to 101 superfluous extravagant, overabundant 102 Save God save 102 queen may play on “quean” (i.e. prostitute) 107 stain hint/taint 109 barricado barricade 110 Keep ensure he stays (plays on the sense of “build a fortified tower”) 112 Unfold reveal 113 setting … you besieging you (with sexual connotations) 114 undermine overthrow/dig underneath to lay mines/burrow into sexually 114 blow you up cause an explosion/make you pregnant 115 Bless (may God) protect 116 policy stratagem 118 be blown up gain an erection/have an orgasm 119 Marry by the Virgin Mary 119 blowing him down inducing his orgasm, and subsequent loss of erection 120 breach vagina/hole in defenses 120 city i.e. virginity 120 politic prudent/strategic 122 rational increase logical profit-making/an increase in rational beings through reproduction 122 got begotten, conceived 123 That that which 123 mettle substance/coinage (indistinguishable from “metal” in Shakespearean usage) 125 found i.e. duplicated in reproduction (by producing ten virgins) 125 cold chaste 127 stand for’t defend it 129 in’t in its defense 130 part behalf (puns on the sense of “genitals”) 131 infallible certain 131 He … virgin i.e. like a virgin who refuses to reproduce, a crime likened to suicide 133 highways … limit traditionally suicides were buried at crossroads, in unconsecrated ground 134 desperate reckless/dangerous 134 offendress female offender 135 paring rind 136 his its 136 stomach appetite/pride 137 peevish stubborn, perverse 138 inhibited prohibited 138 canon list of Church laws 139 lose fail to profit (puns on the idea of “losing” one’s virginity) 139 Out with’t! Away with it!/put it out to interest 139 make itself two double in value (by increasing at rate of 10 percent per year) 140 principal initial investment 142 How what 143 it i.e. virginity 144 gloss freshness/shine 144 lying remaining unused (may play on the sense of “lying down”) 145 vendible salable, marketable 145 Answer … request respond to current consumer demand 147 suited dressed 147 unsuitable unfashionable 148 toothpick ornate toothpicks were fashionable for a period 148 wear not are not in fashion 148 date fruit/age/penis 149 pie with vaginal connotations 149 porridge stew (with vaginal connotations) 149 in your cheek i.e. as sign of increasing age 151 pears with vaginal connotations 151 eats dryly tastes dry 155 There i.e. at court 156 mother here begins a list of names and relationships found in love poetry 157 phoenix i.e. paragon, wonder (literally, mythical Arabian bird that was consumed by fire every five hundred years, then resurrected from the ashes; only one existed at a time) 161 concord harmony 161 dulcet sweet 162 disaster unlucky star 163 fond affectionate/foolish 163 adoptious adopted 163 christendoms baptismal (Christian) names 164 blinking blind 164 gossips is godparent to 165 well fortune 170 body i.e. something tangible 172 baser stars lesser fortunes 172 shut … in confine us to 173 effects of them i.e. fulfilled wishes 174 alone must think must only think (not do) 175 Returns us thanks give us gratitude, reward 180 Mars Roman god of war 180 ay “I” in Folio, but likely to be heard by the audience as an ironic “yes” (Mars not being not known for charity) 183 under down/in a lowly position 185 predominant in the ascendant, dominant 186 retrograde moving in a contrary direction, backward 188 backward i.e. in retreat, fleeing the enemy 189 advantage tactical gain (Helen shifts the sense to “personal interest”) 191 composition mixture/constitution (plays on the sense of “truce”) 192 wing ability to fly swiftly/jacket’s shoulder flap (may pun on the sense of “flank of troops”) 192 wear fashion 194 perfect (the) complete 194 in the which i.e. in which manner 195 naturalize accustom 196 capable of receptive to/have (sexual) capacity for 197 thrust with sexual connotations 198 makes thee away sees you off 199 leisure opportunity 201 use treat/employ sexually 203 fated fateful/with power over destiny 205 designs undertakings/plans 205 dull sluggish 207 feed satisfy (my longing) 208 The across the 208 space in fortune gap in social status/difference in fortunes 209 like likes kindred affections 209 native closely related/of similar rank/natural 210 strange attempts extraordinary endeavors (to be united) 211 weigh … sense evaluate their efforts according to common sense 213 miss fail to achieve

Act 1 Scene 2

1.2 Location: Paris 1.2 Flourish fanfare, usually accompanying a person in authority 1.2 divers various 1 Florentines people from Florence (northern Italian city, capital of Tuscany) 1 Senoys people from Siena 1 by th’ears at odds, fighting 3 braving defiant 6 cousin fellow monarch of 7 move urge, appeal to 8 dearest friend i.e. Austria 9 Prejudicates prejudges 10 make denial i.e. deny aid to the Florentines 12 Approved established, proved 13 credence trust 14 armed fortified (against entreaties) 15 Florence ruler of Florence 16 for as for 16 see i.e. take part in 17 service military service 18 stand serve, fight 18 part side 20 nursery training ground 20 sick longing 21 breathing and exploit active military employment 26 Frank generous 26 rather … haste more fastidious than hasty 27 parts qualities 30 corporal soundess good physical health 32 tried tested 32 did … service had deep knowledge of military matters 33 was Discipled of taught/was taught by 34 bravest boldest/finest/noblest 35 haggish haglike, repulsive/frosty 36 out of act down beyond action 36 repairs restores, revives 40 scorn mockery 40 return … unnoted goes unheeded/is visited back upon them 41 Ere before 41 levity in honour lightheartedness in honorable action 42 contempt neither contempt 44 equal i.e. social equal 44 awaked provoked 45 Clock to itself true to itself, reliable, self-governing 45 true exact 46 Exception grievance/disapproval 47 hand hand of action/hand of his honor’s clock, showing the appropriate time 47 Who those who 48 used treated 48 another place different (higher) rank 49 top head 51 humbled humbled himself 52 copy example/model 53 them … backward men of today to be merely inferior 57 So … epitaph his epitaph is nowhere so profoundly confirmed 57 approof proof, experience/approbation 60 plausive praising 61 scattered not did not disperse randomly 61 grafted cultivated deliberately 62 bear i.e. bear fruit 64 On … heel at the conclusion and end 64 pastime entertainment, leisure activity 65 out over 66 snuff burnt-out wick/hindrance 67 apprehensive perceptive/quick-witted 69 Mere … garments only capable of inventing new fashions 69 constancies loyalties 71 I … too I, surviving him, also wish (plays on idea of following into death) 72 nor neither 73 were would be 73 dissolvèd released 74 labourers productive worker bees 76 lend show, give 76 it i.e. love 76 lack miss 82 the rest i.e. other physicians 83 several various 83 applications treatments 84 Debate contend over 84 it i.e. his health

Act 1 Scene 3

1.3 Location: Rossillion Lavatch probably from the French la vache (“the cow”) 1 gentlewoman i.e. Helen 2 even your content please you 3 calendar record 4 clearness purity 5 of … them we speak openly of our own merits 5 deservings merits, deserts 6 sirrah sir (used to a social inferior) 11 poor wretched, humble (sense then shifts to “impoverished”) 12 Well i.e. go on (Lavatch shifts the sense to “satisfactory”) 15 go … world i.e. get married 15 Isbel typical name for a whore 15 woman female servant/whore 16 do act/have sex 17 needs of necessity 20 case puns on the sense of “vagina” 20 Service employment as a servant (plays on the sense of “sex”) 20 heritage inheritance (for children) 22 issue … body i.e. children 22 bairns children 25 go puns on the sense of “have sex” 26 your worship title of mock respect 27 holy i.e. sanctioned by marriage (puns on “holey,” i.e. vaginal) 29 world mankind, i.e. secular people 32 repent regret marrying/atone for sex out of wedlock 35 for … sake to keep my wife company (with suggestion of sexual activity) 37 shallow lacking in judgment 37 in of 38 do with sexual connotations 39 ears plows/has sex with/impregnates 39 land i.e. wife 39 spares my team takes the load off my sexual organs 39 gives me leave allows/enables 39 in harvest/bring in 40 crop i.e. of children 40 cuckold man with an unfaithful wife 40 drudge slave/menial worker 40 comforts pleasures (sexually) 41 cherisher nourisher/sustainer (in procreative sense) 43 ergo “therefore” (Latin) 44 what they are i.e. cuckolds 45 Charbon the Puritan meat-eating puritan (from French chair bonne: “good flesh,” eaten on fast-days) 46 Poysam the Papist fish-eating Catholic (from French poisson: “fish,” eaten on fast-days) 46 howsome’er howsoever/although 47 both one alike (in being cuckolds) 47 jowl dash, knock 49 ever always 49 calumnious slanderous 52 next nearest/most direct 56 kind nature, i.e. to be a cuckold (which sounds like “cuckoo”) is natural 57 anon at another time 62 fair face i.e. of Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world, whose abduction by Paris caused the Trojan war 62 she perhaps Hecuba, wife of Priam 63 sackèd plundered 63 Troy ancient city of West Turkey, besieged for ten years during the Trojan war 64 Fond foolishly 65 King Priam King of Troy, killed during the conflict 68 sentence maxim, wise saying 69 Among along with 72 corrupt the song presumably Lavatch has inverted the words of a well-known song; it may have originally read “Among nine good if one be bad, / There’s yet nine good in ten” 75 purifying cleansing, improving 75 serve the world i.e. by consistently providing one good woman in ten 76 tithe-woman tenth woman (i.e. one in ten); the tithe was the tenth of one’s farm produce able to be claimed by the parson 77 An if 78 but … earthquake i.e. rarely 78 blazing star comet 79 mend … well improve the odds 79 draw pull 80 one i.e. a good woman 82 That to think that 83 honesty truth/virtue 84 wear … heart i.e. conform by hiding pride beneath an outward appearance of obedience, just as Puritans wore the prescribed Anglican surplice over the more extreme Calvinist black gown 85 forsooth in truth 89 bequeathed left (by will)/entrusted 90 advantage financial interest/additional personal benefits 90 make title lay claim 93 late recently 96 stranger sense other person’s or stranger’s hearing 96 matter subject, theme 98 estates stations in life 99 no i.e. unworthy of being a 99 only where qualities except where ranks 100 Dian Diana, Roman goddess of chastity, the moon, and hunting 100 suffer allow 101 surprised to be captured/attacked 102 touch feeling/expression/note 104 withal with 104 sithence since 104 loss harm 105 something somewhat 106 discharged performed 107 likelihoods indications 109 misdoubt disbelieve 109 Stall confine, lodge, hide 113 these difficulties/pangs of love 115 blood passion 116 show appearance/display 116 seal sign/confirmation 117 impressed imprinted, stamped 119 or or rather/but 120 observe see through/note 125 Methought it seemed to me 126 start flinch 128 enwombèd mine carried in my womb 129 Adoption i.e. (love for) adopted children 129 strives competes 129 nature i.e. (love for) one’s own children 129 choice … seeds we choose to graft a cutting from another plant onto our stock, and thus make it into our own 131 mother’s groan i.e. in labor 133 curd curdle 135 distempered distressed/unseasonal, inclement 136 iris Greek goddess of the rainbow 136 rounds encircles 138 not i.e. not your daughter-in-law 143 note mark of distinction 143 parents ancestors 145 vassal subject/servant 149 So provided that 150 both our mothers mother of us both 151 no … than as much as 152 can’t no other can it be no other way 155 shield ensure/forbid 157 catched caught 157 fondness foolishness/affection 158 loveliness many editors emend to “loneliness” (solitary melancholy) 159 head source 159 sense perception 159 gross obvious 160 Invention (your) devising of excuse 161 Against in the face of 166 kind natural way (i.e. by weeping) 168 That … suspected for fear that truth will be regarded with suspicion/to ensure that truth will not be guessed at 169 clew ball (of thread) 170 forswear’t deny it (under oath) 170 howe’er in any case 170 charge command 171 avail benefit 178 Go not about don’t be roundabout (in answering) 178 bond i.e. maternal bond 179 takes note recognizes 181 appeached informed against (you) 184 before more than 186 friends relatives 189 token sign, evidence, indication (plays on the sense of “love token”) 189 presumptuous suit unwarranted aim/expectant courtship 193 captious capacious/eager to take in/deceptive 193 intenible incapable of holding 194 still continually 195 lack … still yet do not run out of more to pour in and waste/do not run out of more to keep continuously pouring in and losing 196 Religious ardent/worshipful 198 no more nothing other (than to look on him) 199 encounter with contest, fight 201 cites confirms, acknowledges 204 herself i.e. chastity 206 lend … lose i.e. bestow affection where it is sure of no success 207 that what 207 implies involves, seeks 208 lives … dies i.e. in loving Bertram, Helen is doomed to eternal disappointment 212 Wherefore? Why? 213 grace God’s grace 214 prescriptions ancient customs/instructions/doctor’s prescriptions 216 manifest evident 217 sovereignty efficacy/healing 218 In … them to reserve them for use with the greatest care 219 notes instructions/doctor’s prescriptions 219 faculties inclusive comprehensive capabilities 220 in note recognized to be 221 approved tested, proven 222 desp’rate despairing, hopeless 223 rendered lost deemed incurable 227 conversation processes, reflections 228 Haply perhaps 230 tender offer 232 a mind the same opinion 233 credit believe/trust 234 schools universities, medical faculties 235 Embowelled disemboweled, emptied 235 doctrine learning, science 235 left off abandoned 239 receipt prescription/remedy 240 sanctified blessed 242 try success find out what happens 242 venture risk 243 well-lost i.e. lost for a good cause 244 such a a specific 246 knowingly i.e. securely with confidence 247 leave permission 250 into unto/upon 252 miss lack

Act 2 Scene 1

2.1 Location: Paris 1 principles i.e. advice 2 throw from you forget 4 gift i.e. of advice 7 well-entered (becoming) experienced 10 owes owns 13 higher italy highranking Italians/northern Italy (Tuscany) 14 Those … monarchy except those who merely inherit their places from what is left of the Holy Roman Empire/they that are cast down by having merely the remains of the Holy Roman Empire 16 woo court, flirt with 16 wed i.e. own, be bound to 17 questant seeker, one on a quest 17 shrinks recoils (plays on the sense of “loses his erection”) 18 cry proclaim 21 lack … deny i.e. cannot say no 22 captives i.e. to the girls’ charms 23 serve fight (plays on the sense of “have sex”) 27 spark young man about town 28 brave splendid 30 here to stay here 30 kept a coil fussed over 32 bravely boldly/worthily 33 forehorse … smock lead horse in a team led by a woman 34 masonry stonework floor (i.e. not a battlefield) 35 bought up won by others 36 one … with i.e. an ornamental weapon 36 steal sneak (the First Lord plays on the sense of “rob”) 40 grow to become attached to 40 a tortured body like a body being torn apart 44 a word in a word 44 metals blades/spirits (“mettles”) 45 Spurio “counterfeit” (Italian) 46 cicatrice scar 46 sinister left 47 entrenched gashed, grooved 48 reports response 50 Mars may Mars 50 novices recruits 52 Stay wait on/obey (Second Folio repunctuates “Stay:” which changes the sense to “Wait: the king is coming”) 53 spacious ceremony ample courtesy 54 list boundary 55 wear … time i.e. are fashionable/notable 56 muster true gait display correct bearing/behavior 58 received fashionable 58 measure stately dance 59 dilated extended 62 like likely 63 sinewy muscular, energetic 64 tidings news 65 fee pay 66 brought his pardon i.e. something to earn it 69 broke thy pate given you a blow to the skull 71 across i.e. a clumsy hit (in jousting, to break a lance across rather than striking directly with the point showed poor skill) 74 will … fox in Aesop’s fable the fox declared the grapes were sour because he couldn’t reach them; the king dismisses the idea of recovery because he thinks it impossible 75 will will eat/want 75 an if if 76 medicine doctor 78 Quicken give life to 78 canary a lively Spanish dance 79 simple minimal/herbal/medicinal 80 araise raise from the dead/sexually arouse 80 King Pippin eighth-century French king, father of Charlemain (Charlemagne) 81 pen plays on the sense of “penis” 87 light lighthearted/sexually suggestive 87 deliverance delivery, reporting 88 profession claims of skill 90 blame attribute to 90 weakness partiality, susceptibility 94 admiration object of wonder 95 spend expend 95 take off reduce, remove 96 took’st conceived of, caught 97 fit satisfy 99 special nothing particular trifles 99 ever prologues always introduces 99 Enter Helen some editors suppose that she is disguised, since in Act 2 Scene 3 Lafew appears surprised at her identity, despite having met her in Act 1 Scene 1; this is possible, but it seems more likely that he is complicit with her plan (hence Cressid’s uncle) and that the later surprise is feigned 100 come your ways come along 105 Cressid’s uncle Pandarus, go-between for the lovers Troilus and Cressida 107 follow relate to 110 profess practice, make a profession of 110 well found of established skill 114 receipts recipes for medical cures 115 issue product 116 th’only the foremost/peerless 117 triple third 118 Safer more safely 120 cause … power disease (cause) for which the worth of my father’s gift is most effective 122 tender offer 122 appliance remedy/treatment 123 bound prepared/dutiful 125 credulous readily believing 127 congregated college i.e. of doctors 128 art skill/scholarship/science 129 inaidible unable to be assisted 131 prostitute submit (basely) 132 empirics quack doctors 132 dissever divide 133 great self kingly person 133 credit reputation 133 esteem give merit to, believe in 134 senseless foolish 134 sense rational hope 134 deem judge (it to be) 135 duty i.e. as a subject (having tried to help you) 135 pains efforts 136 office services, duty 138 modest one slight thought/thought that confirms my modest, seeemly behavior 138 to … again for me to return with/to conduct me home 139 to than to 142 at full in detail 142 no part not at all 143 art (sufficient) medical skill 145 set … rest stake everything (derived from the card game primero) 146 He i.e. God 148 holy writ the Bible, which contains several examples of the young being wiser than their elders 148 babes foolish/inexperienced 149 great … sources Moses struck rock from which water flowed for the thirsty Israelites (Exodus 17) 150 simple small 150 great … dried Moses led the Israelites through the Red Sea, which parted, allowing them to pass on dry ground (Exodus 14) 151 great’st great persons, such as Pharaoh, who complained about God’s power 153 hits succeeds 154 shifts operates 156 by … paid be their own reward 157 Proffers offers 157 for as 158 Inspirèd divinely inspired (plays on the sense of “inhaled”) 158 breath words 160 square shape 160 shows appearances 162 count consider 164 experiment trial 165 impostor swindler 165 proclaim … aim declare my success before attempting to hit the target/claim skill that is greater than my ability 169 space period of time 171 greatest i.e. God’s 173 torcher torchbearer, the sun god, who was carried across the sky in a horse-drawn chariot 173 diurnal ring daily circuit 174 occidental western (i.e. sunset) 175 Hesperus the evening star (Venus) 176 pilot’s glass nautical hourglass 181 venture risk/wager 182 Tax accusation 183 strumpet’s harlot’s/whore’s 184 Traduced slandered 185 Seared branded 185 extended stretched on a rack 189 slay deny, extinguish 190 sense higher wisdom/natural feeling, instinct 191 rate value 192 estimate value 194 prime youth 195 Thou … hazard your willingness to risk this 195 needs necessarily 196 monstrous desperate unnaturally reckless 197 practicer practitioner 197 physic medical advice/medicine 198 ministers delivers (plays on the sense of “dispenses healing”) 199 break time miss my deadline 199 property any particular respect 201 Not in not 204 make it even fulfill it 207 What whatever 208 Exempted far removed 214 premises observed conditions noted/fulfilled 215 performance carrying out (of the request) 216 of in 217 resolved determined 217 still always 220 tended on attended 221 Unquestioned unquestionably 223 high as word amply as promised

Act 2 Scene 2

2.2 Location: Rossillion 1 put … height thoroughly test 2 breeding education/upbringing 3 highly fed overfed 3 lowly inadequately 5 make you do you think 6 put off dismiss 8 put pass 9 make a leg bow 12 answer throughout the exchange this word seems to have phallic connotations (question thus suggests “vagina”) 16 pin narrow/sharp 16 quatch probably squat/fat 16 brawn meaty/well-rounded 18 fit suitably 19 groats fourpenny coins 20 French crown gold coin/bald head (symptom of syphilis) 20 taffety punk finely dressed whore 20 Tib typical name for lower-class girl/whore (diminutive of “Isabel”) 20 rush ring made of reeds/vagina 21 Tom typical name for a rogue 21 forefinger with phallic connotations 21 pancake traditionally eaten on Shrove Tuesday, the feasting day before Lent 21 morris morris dance 22 nail with phallic connotations 22 his its 22 hole with vaginal connotations 22 cuckold man with an unfaithful wife 22 horn traditionally cuckolds were supposed to sprout horns 23 quean prostitute (puns on “queen”) 23 wrangling knave quarrelsome servant/rogue 24 pudding sausage (perhaps with phallic connotations) 24 his its 31 neither on the contrary 34 fool in question ignorant/inexperienced in questioning (you) 37 putting off evasion 40 O lord, sir! a fashionable phrase amongst affected courtiers 40 Thick quickly 41 homely meat plain food 46 is very sequent follows logically 47 answer reply cleverly/respond well 48 bound to’t obliged to reply/tied up for it 51 noble used ironically, as she is wasting time 55 present immediate 55 Commend me convey my regards 59 fruitfully abundantly 59 before my legs i.e. very quickly 60 again back again

Act 2 Scene 3

2.3 Location: Paris 2 philosophical persons scholars of “natural philosophy” 2 modern everyday 2 things things that seem 3 causeless inexplicable by natural causes 4 ensconcing ourselves into fortifying ourselves with 5 unknown fear fear of the unknown 6 rarest most extraordinary 5 argument topic, issue 7 shot out suddenly appeared 7 latter most recent 9 relinquished of abandoned by 9 artists scholars, medical practitioners 10 Galen famous second-century Greek physician 10 Paracelsus famous sixteenth-century Swiss physician 11 authentic fellows accredited members of the medical profession 13 gave him out proclaimed him to be 18 Just exactly 20 showing visible/printed form 25 dolphin puns on “dauphin” (i.e. heir to the French throne) 25 ’Fore me before me; mild oath, like “upon my soul” 27 brief … tedious short and the long 28 facinerious extremely wicked 33 debile minister feeble agent 36 Generally universally 39 Lustigue lusty vigorous (from the German lustig) 39 Dutchman German 40 tooth sweet tooth, i.e. appetite for pleasure 41 coranto lively dance 42 Mor du vinager! pseudo-French oath, literally “death of/by vinegar” 46 banished sense loss of feeling 47 repealed recalled, given a second chance 49 attends awaits 50 parcel group 51 my bestowing my power to give in marriage 53 frank election free choice 54 forsake refuse 57 bay … furniture my bay horse with a docked tail (curtal), and all his trappings 58 My … boys’ to have as many teeth/to be as little broken to the bit (i.e. youthful) as these boys 59 writ to be able to claim/exhibit 62 She … Lord some editors suppose that this direction is misplaced and belongs with the later line spoken to First Lord 66 protest declare 68 whisper whisper to 70 white death pallor of death 73 Who he who 73 his … me my love for him 74 Dian Diana, Roman goddess of chastity 75 Love i.e. Cupid, god of love 78 All. mute there is no more to be said 80 ames-ace double ace, lowest throw in dice 80 for my life were my life at stake 81 honour high status/willingness to marry/admiration 83 Love may Love 84 Her … wishes i.e. myself, Helen 85 No better i.e. I wish for nothing better than your humble love 90 th’Turk i.e. non-Christian barbarian 96 Sure surely 97 got conceived 98 happy fortunate 101 grape i.e. fruit of good lineage 102 drunk wine i.e. to give you good blood 103 known seen through 115 bring me down i.e. by making me marry a social inferior (with associations of bringing into the marriage bed, and, possibly, of losing one’s erection) 117 breeding upbringing 117 charge order/expense 119 corrupt debase/contaminate 119 ever forever 120 title lack of title 123 confound distinction be indistinguishable 123 stands off separate 128 proceed come forth 130 great … none titles puff us up rather than virtue (swell’s: “swell is,” elided for meter) 131 dropsied swollen/proud/diseased 133 property inherent quality 133 go i.e. be known 135 heir because the qualities are inherited from nature 136 That … sire true honor is scornful of inherited title when accompanying behavior not worthy of it 140 foregoers ancestors 141 Deboshed debauched, corrupted 142 trophy memorial 144 honoured bones indeed i.e. the remains of those who were truly honorable 147 dower dowry 148 strive attempt 149 choose assert your own choice 150 restored cured 152 at the stake tied up like a bear to be baited, under attack 152 which which threat 154 this of this 155 misprision scorn 156 desert right/recompense 156 That you who 157 We the royal plural 157 poising weighing 157 defective i.e. lighter (as she is humble) 158 weigh … beam outweigh you and tip your scale up to the crossbar 159 in us within my royal power 160 Check restrain 161 travails in labors for 162 Believe not deny 162 presently immediately 166 the staggers giddiness, unsteadiness (also, a horse disease affecting balance) 166 careless untended/reckless/irresponsible 166 lapse decline 168 Loosing being loosed, inflicted 169 all terms any form 171 fancy desire 172 great creation creation of greatness 172 dole portion 173 which late who recently 175 who i.e. Helen 179 counterpoise equal weight (i.e. in dowry) 179 not not equal 180 replete complete/perfect/abundant 183 whose … brief the formal accomplishment of which (i.e. marriage) shall quite properly follow the present agreement 186 more … space have to wait for a time 187 Expecting waiting for (the arrival of) 187 As as long as 188 religious sacred/true/dutiful 188 err go astray 196 succeeding consequences (i.e. a fight) 197 companion comrade/rascal 198 man manly/mankind (Lafew shifts the sense to “servant”) 201 too old i.e. for a duel 201 satisfy appease (in place of a duel) 202 write claim to be 204 dare … do have the courage to accomplish only too well, I dare not because of your old age 205 ordinaries standard meals 206 vent utterance 207 scarfs military sashes 207 bannerets small banners 208 vessel ship, adorned with flags 209 burden cargo 209 found seen through 209 thee i.e. your company 210 taking up arresting/calling to account 212 antiquity old age 215 trial testing of supposed courage 215 hen i.e. not a bold cock; perhaps also refers to Parolles’ “plumage” 216 window of lattice ale-house (whose red lattice windows signified its function) 216 casement window 218 egregious outrageous 221 dram small amount 221 bate lessen 222 scruple tiny amount 223 wiser i.e. in future 224 pull … contrary swallow a good quantity of your foolishness 227 bondage what binds you (i.e. the scarves of which he is proud) 227 hold maintain 228 in the default when you fail 229 know understand/see through 231 poor doing inadequate ability to inflict vexation 232 doing action (plays on the sense of “having sex”) 232 will will pass (puns on past as “passed”) 232 in … leave with what movement age will allow me 234 shall … me upon whom I will vent my anger for these insults 235 scurvy contemptible 236 fettering imprisoning 237 with any convenience on a suitable occasion 237 an even if 243 reservation concealment 243 wrongs insults 243 good lord i.e. patron (rather than employer) 243 Whom he whom 248 garter tie (with scarves) 248 hose stockings, usually tied up with garters 249 set … stands put your penis where your nose should be/smell your bottom 253 breathe exercise (through fighting) 254 measure treatment/judgment 255 Go to expression of dismissive impatience 255 picking … pomegranate i.e. a small offense, as an excuse 256 vagabond itinerant vagrant, traveling without license 257 true honest/licensed 257 saucy insolent 258 commission warrant, allowance 259 heraldry i.e. authority, entitlement 263 Undone ruined 263 cares troubles, sorrows 272 import content, sense 275 box container/vagina 276 kicky-wicky woman 277 Spending expending/wasting/ejaculating 277 marrow vitality/sexual energy/semen 278 curvet horse’s leap 280 jades worn-out horses 286 furnish me to equip me for 286 fields battlefields 288 To compared to 288 dark house gloomy house/lunatic asylum 289 capriccio “whim” (Italian) 289 Art are you 291 straight immediately 293 balls bound tennis balls bounce (i.e. are spirited, to be reckoned with; plays on the sense of “testicles”) 294 marred ruined (plays on married)

Act 2 Scene 4

1 kindly affectionately/as a mother 2 well i.e. at rest, dead 4 wants lacks 14 them i.e. your good fortune 15 them i.e. my prayers 16 So provided that 17 did may pun on “died” 19 man’s servant’s 20 shakes out brings about 22 title status as man or servant/name (“Parolles,” or “words”; also puns on “tittle”—i.e. “tiny amount”) 25 Before in the presence of 26 Before me i.e. upon my soul 28 Go to i.e. enough of that 28 found thee found you out, found you to be a fool 29 me i.e. folly 31 even to i.e. enough for 33 well fed probably refers to “better fed than taught” (proverbial); possibly “energetic, spirited” 36 rite of love i.e. sexual consummation of marriage 38 to owing to 39 Whose … delay the delay and absence of which 39 sweets sweet-scented flowers 40 they i.e. want and delay 40 curbèd restrained 42 drown overflow 43 else besides 45 make represent 45 as as if it were 45 proceeding course of action/idea 46 apology excuse 47 probable need plausible necessity 50 Attend await 50 pleasure command, will

Act 2 Scene 5

2 approof proven quality/testimony 3 deliverance utterance 5 dial timepiece/compass 5 I … bunting i.e. I underestimated him; reversal of “to take a bunting for a lark” (proverbial; the lark was the superior bird) 8 accordingly suitably 10 state i.e. condition of my soul 11 find find it 15 tailor refers to Parolles’ garments; “the tailor makes the man” is proverbial 22 you’ll have you wanted 27 something i.e. an asset, with plenty of stories to tell the guests 28 three thirds i.e. all the time 31 unkindness ill will 35 made shift contrived 36 him … custard the jester who traditionally jumped into custard at the Lord Mayor’s annual feast in London 37 suffer question endure questioning 38 residence i.e. why you are there 39 mistaken misjudged/misidentified (Lafew shifts the sense to “been offended by him”) 43 heavy serious/not light 44 them tame such creatures as pets 45 to deserve deserve 47 idle foolish 49 know i.e. rather than merely think 51 pass reputation 51 clog hindrance (block of wood tied to man or animal to prevent escape) 54 present parting immediate departure 58 colour appropriate character 58 time i.e. the immediate aftermath of marriage 59 ministration … particular duty and obligation of me as husband 64 muse wonder 65 respects reasons 66 appointments purposes, affairs 75 observance dutiful service 75 eke out supplement, increase 76 homely stars humble origins 77 great fortune i.e. as your wife 79 Hie hurry 82 owe own 84 fain willingly 85 vouch affirm to be 88 would want 90 sunder part 91 stay delay 98 corragio “courage” (Italian)

Act 3 Scene 1

3.1 Location: Florence 1 from … point in every detail 3 Whose great decision the deciding of which 6 black wicked 7 opposer enemy’s part 8 cousin i.e. fellow sovereign 9 bosom heart 10 borrowing prayers entreaties for assistance 12 yield give up, share 13 But except as 13 common … man ordinary external observer 14 figure scheme, devisings 14 frames constructs, guesses at 15 self-unable motion inadequate conjectures 19 his pleasure as he (the King of France) wishes 20 younger … nature young men of our temperament, outlook (some editors emend “nature” to “nation”) 21 surfeit … ease grow sick of overindulgence in leisure 22 physic cure, perhaps by letting blood through war 24 fly from be bestowed by 26 better fall better places fall vacant 26 avails advantages (as you may fill them)

Act 3 Scene 2

3.2 Location: Rossillion 3 troth faith 5 observance observation, signs 6 mend adjust 8 sold who sold 12 mind to inclination for 13 lings salt cod, slang for “vaginas/whores” (similar play possible in country) 14 brains plays on the sense of “semen” (thus making Cupid a personified penis and giving knocked out sexual connotations) 16 stomach appetite 18 E’en just, the same as 19 recovered cured 21 “not” with a pun on the marital knot 23 hold remain at 26 fly flee 28 misprizing despising/undervaluing 29 of empire even of an emperor 30 heavy sad/serious 30 within inside 38 standing to’t standing one’s ground/having an erection (both courses of action may lead to death—literally and in the sense of “orgasm”) 39 getting begetting, conception 41 Save God save 45 quirks turns 46 face appearance 46 on the start at its sudden arrival 47 woman make behave like a woman, i.e. weep 49 thitherward on his way there 49 thence from there 50 dispatch in hand settlement of business 51 bend direct our steps 52 passport license to travel 56 sentence statement/judgment 60 have … cheer bear a happier countenance/be encouraged 61 engrossest monopolize 61 are that are 62 moiety share/half 64 all my my only 69 convenience propriety 76 haply perhaps 81 rude ignorant/unkind/rough 88 a well-derivèd his own well-descended 89 his inducement Parolles’ bad influence 91 deal quantity 91 that influence 92 holds … have maintains and benefits him considerably 97 Written in writing 100 but … courtesies only insofar as I am able to repay your courtesy 100 change exchange 101 draw near come along (with me) 104 Rossillion i.e. Bertram 107 event outcome 109 sportive playful/lighthearted/amorous 110 mark target 111 leaden messengers i.e. bullets 113 move part/stir (to pity) (sometimes emended to “cleave” or “wound”) 113 still-peering ever watchful (some editors emend to “still-piecing”) 114 sings i.e. whistles as a bullet pierces it/cries in pain/sings in indifference 115 set him there put him in the position 116 forward in the front line/facing the enemy 117 caitiff wretch 120 ravin ravenous 121 constraint compulsion 122 owes owns 124 Whence … scar from where honor merely earns a scar by undergoing danger 125 oft often as 125 all i.e. life 127 do’t i.e. keep you away 127 although even if 129 officed all carried out all household duties 130 pitiful compassionate 131 consolate console 132 steal creep (plays on the sense of “rob”)

Act 3 Scene 3

3.3 Location: Florence Drum and Trumpets i.e. a drummer and a trumpeter 2 Great pregnant/swelling 2 lay wager 2 credence trust, faith 7 th’extreme edge the utmost limit 9 helm helmet 12 file rank of soldiers 13 like my thoughts i.e. valiant

Act 3 Scene 4

3.4 Location: Rossillion 1 of from 4 “I … free” this letter is cast in the form of a sonnet 4 Saint Jaques Saint James, whose shrine was at Compostella, in northwest Spain 7 sainted holy/dedicated to a saint 9 hie hasten 12 taken undertaken 13 despiteful cruel, malicious 13 Juno supreme goddess, who imposed twelve labors on Hercules 14 camping tent-dwelling (i.e. army) 17 Whom i.e. death 19 advice judgment 22 prevented forestalled 24 at overnight last night 29 whom i.e. both Helen and her prayers 32 unworthy husband husband unworthy 33 weigh heavy of emphasize 37 When haply perhaps when 41 sense perception 42 Provide equip

Act 3 Scene 5

3.5 Location: Florence tucket trumpet fanfare 3.5 Diana significantly, given her role, the name of the goddess of chastity and hunting; the Folio entry direction calls her “Violenta,” which was perhaps Shakespeare’s first thought for the name 2 lose all entirely miss 5 their i.e. Siena’s 10 suffice satisfy 11 earl i.e. Bertram 12 name reputation 13 honesty chastity 15 solicited entreated, courted 17 officer agent 17 suggestions promptings toward evil/entreaties 17 for on behalf of 19 engines devices/plots 19 go under appear to be 21 wreck of maidenhood loss of virginity 22 succession (others from) doing the same 23 that for all that 23 limed trapped (like birds caught in lime, a sticky substance smeared on twigs) 25 grace virtue 25 though even if 26 further … lost worse risk than the loss of virginity (i.e. pregnancy) 27 fear fear for 29 lie lodge 32 palmers pilgrims 33 Saint Francis inn with the sign of Saint Francis 33 port city gate 36 tarry wait 39 for because 40 ample well, fully 43 stay upon await 43 leisure convenience 52 Whatsome’er whoever 53 bravely taken highly regarded 54 for because 56 mere absolutely 61 believe agree 62 argument any issue 62 to in comparison with 63 mean lowly/unworthy 64 All her deserving her only merit 65 reservèd honesty well-guarded chastity 66 examined called into question 70 write style her (some editors emend to “warrant”) 72 shrewd malicious 77 brokes bargains, negotiates 77 suit endeavor, request 80 honestest most chaste 80 colours battle flags 81 else (that it should be) otherwise 88 honester more honorable 95 jackanapes monkey 98 shrewdly sorely 101 courtesy curtsy (i.e. bow) 101 ring-carrier pimp 103 host lodge 103 enjoined penitents those bound by oath to undertake pilgrimage as penance for sin 107 Please it if it please 108 charge expense 109 for me mine 110 precepts of advice on 112 kindly gratefully

Act 3 Scene 6

3.6 Location: battlefield 1 to’t to the test 3 hilding good-for-nothing 5 bubble i.e. nothing/showy/easily destroyed 8 as as if he were 11 entertainment patronage 12 reposing trusting, relying 13 trusty requiring trustworthiness 15 try test 16 fetch off rescue/retrieve 19 surprise ambush, attack 19 knows not cannot distinguish 20 hoodwink blindfold/deceive 21 leaguer military camp 25 intelligence secret information 27 oath i.e. the vow he took never to divulge the intelligence 30 bottom extent 31 ore precious metal 31 give … entertainment i.e. beat him/cast him out (proverbial) 32 inclining partiality, liking (for Parolles) 36 in any hand in any case 37 sticks stabs 37 sticks … disposition is really upsetting you 39 pox plague 42 wings flanks, on either side of the main body of troops 42 rend tear apart, devastate 43 in upon 43 command … service military orders 51 But were it not 53 hic jacet i.e. I shall die—literally “here lies” (Latin), phrase found on tombstones 54 stomach appetite/courage 55 mystery skill 56 his its 57 grace honor 58 speed fare/succeed 59 becomes befits 62 slumber in it i.e. delay 63 presently immediately 63 pen write 64 dilemmas choices of action 65 mortal preparation spiritual readiness either for my death or those of the men I kill 71 possibility competence, capacity 72 subscribe vouch 76 damns himself i.e. by swearing falsely 81 have have a true understanding of 82 make no deed perform no part/make no attempt 85 probable plausible 86 embossed hunted down/driven to exhaustion 87 for worthy of 88 case skin, unmask 89 smoked smoked out, exposed 90 sprat small fish (i.e. contemptible person) 92 look my twigs see to my bird-trap 93 Your … me i.e. Bertram pulls rank and orders the Second Lord to accompany him in his pursuit of Diana, leaving the First Lord to undertake the ambush on Parolles 100 coxcomb fool (literally, fool’s cap) 100 have i’th’wind have scented, are tracking

Act 3 Scene 7

3.7 Location: Florence 1 misdoubt disbelieve, suspect 3 But … upon without losing the foundations my plans rely on 4 estate worldly fortune 10 sworn counsel private hearing that you have vowed to keep secret 11 so … word true in every word 12 By with respect to 15 approves proves, demonstrates 20 found it received your help 21 wanton lascivious 22 carry win 22 in fine in the end/to sum up 23 bear manage 24 important blood urgent sexual passion 25 county count 29 rich choice high esteem 29 idle fire foolish ardor 30 will sexual desire 33 bottom essence 34 lawful to be lawful 36 appoints … encounter arranges a meeting with him 39 marry her enable her to marry 40 is passed has been given 42 persever proceed 44 coherent fitting 45 musics musicians/instruments/music 46 unworthiness humble status/because convincing her to do an unworthy deed 46 steads profits 47 chide scold, drive away 48 lay depended 50 assay try 50 speed succeed 51 meaning intention (on Bertram’s part) 51 lawful deed i.e. marital sex 53 fact i.e. Bertram’s belief that he is having sex with another woman

Act 4 Scene 1

4.1 Location: battlefield 2 sally burst out 2 terrible terrifying 4 unless except for 10 linsey-woolsey cloth made of flax and wool (i.e. verbal mixture, nonsense) 11 again in response 13 strangers foreigners 14 entertainment employment 14 smack taste, smattering 16 fancy creativity 16 to know knowing 17 so so long as 17 know straight directly achieve 18 choughs jackdaws, plays on “chuff,” meaning “rustic, clown” 19 politic cunning 19 couch lie down, hide 20 beguile while away 24 plausive plausible 24 it it off 24 smoke smoke out, suspect 27 creatures i.e. soldiers 27 not … tongue and I am afraid to carry out my boasts 34 hurts wounds 37 instance motive (for doing this)/proof (of my supposed exploits) 37 Tongue … mouth with sexual connotations 37 butter-woman dairywoman/whore (i.e. chatty/lecherous) 38 of from 38 Bajazet’s mule mules were proverbially silent and sometimes associated with Turks, but emperors such as Bajazet had “mute” slaves, so some editors emend accordingly; or there may be a garbled allusion to Balaam’s ass in the Bible, which only spoke at God’s command 42 serve the turn suffice 44 afford allow/let (you) off 45 baring shaving 45 in stratagem an act of cunning, for disguise 51 citadel presumably the enemy fortress 53 Thirty fathom 180 feet 59 Alarum call to arms 64 Muskos probably Muscovites 66 low Dutch Dutch; German was known as “high Dutch” 68 discover reveal 70 betake thee entrust thyself 71 poniards daggers 76 hoodwinked blindfolded 76 lead thee on take you elsewhere/direct the conversation 77 gather gain information 86 space time/a temporary reprieve 88 woodcock proverbially stupid bird 88 muffled blindfolded 91 A he 92 Inform on report

Act 4 Scene 2

4.2 Location: Florence 1 Fontybell i.e. “beautiful fountain” 3 goddess Diana was the goddess of chastity and hunting 4 worth worthy of 4 addition additional distinction 5 frame being, shape 5 quality part 6 quick lively 7 monument statue 11 got conceived 12 honest chaste (i.e. married; Bertram shifts the sense to “frank, open”) 18 vows i.e. of love for Diana/to have nothing to do with Helen 20 constraint compulsion 21 rights duties 23 serve gratify sexually 23 roses virginities/vaginas 24 barely in a naked state/only just 24 thorns … ourselves i.e. with shame (quibbles on the idea that this is in place of a man’s prick) 25 bareness loss of the rose of virginity/defenselessness 30 high’st i.e. God 30 to as our 31 Jove supreme Roman god 33 ill imperfectly/immorally 33 holding consistency (i.e. is untenable) 34 protest profess 36 words mere words 36 conditions contracts 36 unsealed i.e. not valid legally 38 it i.e. your opinion 39 holy-cruel cruel by being holy 40 crafts skills/deceits 42 sick i.e. needing cure 43 Who which will 43 recovers recover 45 scar perhaps in the sense of “precipice,” i.e. dangerous place or “sore/fault, blemish” or “fear/panic” (modern “scare”); the general sense is that men create dangerous situations for women in which they may lose their sense of propriety and behave recklessly; some editors emend to “snare” 50 honour object of distinction 52 obloquy disgrace 54 honour’s virginity’s 54 ring with vaginal connotations 58 proper personal 63 bid commanded 65 order take make arrangements 66 band bond 67 yet maiden still virgin 72 proceeds comes to pass 73 token betoken, signify 75 wife i.e. by having sex 75 hope i.e. of marrying Bertram 75 be done ends 81 like same 83 braid i.e. twisted, deceitful 84 Marry let those marry 85 disguise deceptive role 86 cozen trick

Act 4 Scene 3

4.3 Location: battlefield 2 since ago 5 worthy deserved 8 his bounty (the instrument of) his generosity 10 darkly secretly 13 perverted seduced/corrupted 14 fleshes rewards with meat (as hounds were given a piece of the kill; sexual connotations) 15 will sexual desire/penis 15 spoil plundered loot/despoiling/meat given to hounds 16 monumental i.e. serving as a reminder of his ancestry 16 made successful 17 composition bargain (plays on the sense of “something made”) 18 delay subdue 18 rebellion rebellious, lustful appetites 18 ourselves i.e. human 20 Merely entirely 21 still always 21 themselves i.e. their true, treacherous natures 22 attain to reach 22 ends objectives/deaths 22 he i.e. Bertram 23 contrives conspires 23 proper stream own current of desire 25 Is … meant does it not show (as) 28 dieted … hour restricted to his appointed time 29 apace quickly 30 company companion 30 anatomized dissected, revealed 31 curiously … counterfeit elaborately he has displayed this false jewel (Parolles) 33 him i.e. Parolles 33 he … his i.e. Bertram 34 the other i.e. Parolles 36 overture opening, move toward 39 higher further 40 demand question 40 of his council in his confidence 42 deal … act partaker in his affairs 45 pretence purpose 46 sanctimony holiness 50 justified proved 53 office role 54 rector priest/ruler 57 arming establishment, strengthening 57 verity truth 59 make … of take comfort in 63 encountered met 68 cherished comforted, pitied 71 solemn formal 71 for leave for 72 offered given 74 needful necessary 74 if even if 75 more … commend stronger commendations than Bertram deserves 79 dispatched settled 80 by … success quickly and successfully/here follows a summary of my success 81 congied with taken ceremonious leave of 81 nearest closest company 83 entertained my convoy hired my means of transport 84 parcels of dispatch major items of business 84 nicer more delicate/lascivious 89 hear of it i.e. because Diana may be pregnant and/or may claim him as her husband 92 module model (of a soldier) 92 double-meaning prophesier ambiguous, equivocal oracle 94 stocks instrument of public punishment in which the arms, head, or legs were confined 94 gallant showy, ostentatious 95 usurping laying false claim to 96 spurs symbols of knightly valor 96 carry bear, conduct (the Second Lord puns on the sense of “transport”) 99 shed spilled 101 time … remembrance beginning of his memory 101 instant disaster current misfortune 103 a he 109 Hoodman term for the blindfolded player in the game Blind Man’s Bluff 112 constraint force 113 pasty meat pie with pinched crusts 117 note memorandum/list 119 horse cavalry 120 is strong i.e. has 126 take the sacrament i.e. swear most religiously 126 how and which however and whichever 128 All’s one it’s all the same 128 past-saving beyond redemption 131 theoric theory 132 chape metal plate covering the point of the sheath 134 clean free from blood/polished 140 con i.e. give 140 in the nature considering the way in which 145 marvellous extremely 147 a-foot in terms of foot soldiers 148 live i.e. live only for 150 so as 153 muster-file official list of soldiers 153 rotten and sound (of those both) sick and healthy 154 poll heads, i.e. soldiers 155 cassocks soldier’s cloaks/coats 159 condition (military) character 164 well-weighing heavy/persuasive 167 particular individual points 168 inter’gatories questions 170 botcher mender (of clothes and shoes) 170 ’prentice apprentice 171 shrieve’s fool idiot girl in the sheriff’s care 172 innocent fool 173 him nay no to him 175 his … falls i.e. he is in danger of a sudden death 178 lousy lice-infested/contemptible 184 o’th’band of the military company 186 good sadness all seriousness 194 advertisement advice, warning 194 proper respectable 196 ruttish lustful 196 up back 198 favour permission 202 fry young fish 203 both-sides two-faced 204 drop offer, pay with 205 scores incurs a bill 206 Half … it one is halfway there if the bargain is well-made, so set out your terms clearly (or “be even”) and succeed 207 after-debts outstanding bills 207 it i.e. payment 209 mell mingle/have sex 210 For count on account/so be sure 211 before in advance 214 in’s on his 215 manifold linguist speaker of many languages 216 armipotent powerful in arms 220 fain obliged 223 nature my natural life 229 egg … cloister i.e. trifling thing, even from a holy place 230 Nessus centaur who tried to rape Hercules’ wife 230 professes not does not make a practice of 232 Hercules Greek hero famed for feats of strength 234 swine-drunk drunk as a pig (i.e. excessively drunk—and thus likely to wet his bed-clothes) 235 they i.e. the servants who put him to bed 235 conditions habits 243 led … tragedians drums announced a performance by actors 244 belie tell lies about 246 Mile-end field outside the city of London where citizen militia were trained 247 doubling of files simple military marching maneuver 254 cardecue quart d’écu, small French silver coin 254 fee-simple absolute possession (legal term used of land or property) 255 cut … perpetually prevent inheritance to all subsequent heirs forever 262 for as 263 lackey errand-running servant 264 coming on advancing 267 captain … horse cavalry commander 270 no more have nothing more to do with 271 beguile the supposition deceive the opinion 276 discovered revealed 277 pestiferous malicious, pestilent 278 held regarded 286 you you send 287 for bound for 289 in on 290 a very an absolute 292 undone ruined/undressed 295 but only 297 impudent shameless, immodest 299 great big/noble 303 Who he who 307 fooled made a fool of/tricked

Act 4 Scene 4

4.4 Location: Florence 2 One … world i.e. the French king 3 surety guarantor 6 which gratitude gratitude for which 7 Through even through 7 Tartar inhabitant of Central Asia, considered pitiless and savage 10 convenient convoy suitable means of transport 11 breaking disbanding 12 hies him hastens 14 our welcome i.e. we are expected 21 be i.e. provide 21 dower dowry 22 motive agent/means 25 saucy trusting lecherous acceptance 25 cozened deluded 26 Defiles blackens/pollutes 26 pitchy dark (pitch is a tar-like substance) 27 loathes i.e. Helen 27 for … away i.e. in place of Diana 29 yet further 31 death and honesty i.e. a chaste death 32 Go with i.e. result from 32 impositions commands 33 Upon at 34 Yet for a while 35 But … word through the power of word alone: either a metaphysical reference to the “word of God” or a meta-theatrical reference to the power of theater 38 revives will reinvigorate 39 fine’s end’s 40 renown i.e. important thing

Act 4 Scene 5

4.5 Location: Rossillion 1 with by 1 snipt-taffeta in slashed silk, indicative of showiness 2 saffron orange-red dye used to color ruffs and food 3 unbaked uncooked/immature/impressionable 3 doughy dough-like/malleable 4 Your i.e. had it not been for Parolles, your 6 humble-bee bumble-bee 10 dearest direst/most precious 10 groans … mother i.e. in labor 11 rooted established/planted (Lafew develops this sense) 13 light on come across 14 sweet marjoram type of herb 15 herb of grace rue, herb associated with repentance (suggests Helen’s spiritual grace) 16 herbs edible salad plants 16 nose-herbs scented plants for smelling 17 Nebuchadnezzar Babylonian king, forced from his kingdom and made to eat grass 18 grace puns on “grass” 19 Whether which of the two 20 fool supposedly fools had big penises 20 service employment/sexual service 23 cozen cheat 23 service duty, i.e. sex 25 bauble fool’s baton with a carved head on one end/penis 25 do with sexual connotations 27 subscribe vouch/answer 34 maine mane, like that of a royal English lion/meinie, family, retinue 34 fisnomy physiognomy, facial features 35 hotter in France choleric, angry, warlike (to the French)/susceptible to the “French disease” (syphilis) 37 black prince Edward the Black Prince of England, son of Edward III 39 Hold thee be quiet 40 suggest tempt 42 woodland rustic, i.e. simple 43 fire also “hellfire” 44 prince … world another title for the devil 45 narrow gate according to the Bible, the route to salvation (Matthew 7:13) 46 pomp proud, showy people 47 many majority 47 chill faint-hearted/sensitive to cold (thus preferring the warmth of hellfire) 47 tender fond of comfort 50 Go thy ways be off 51 before now, before I grow truly fed up with you 52 tricks i.e. tampering with the horses’ feed to save hay 53 jades’ tricks mischief caused by badly behaved horses 55 shrewd cunning, mischievous 55 unhappy unlucky/discontented/mischievous 56 gone dead (i.e. her husband the count) 59 pace restraint, obedient movement (horse-training term) 61 lady’s i.e. Helen’s 62 moved urged, persuaded 64 minority youth, when they were minors 64 self-gracious remembrance his own thoughtfulness, without prompting 65 propose i.e. for marriage to Bertram 71 post rapidly 72 numbered was aged 73 him i.e. a messenger 73 intelligence information 78 with … admitted how I might with propriety be allowed to be present (at the meeting of Bertram and the king) 80 but only 80 your honourable privilege the privilege due your honored self 81 charter claim 83 patch of velvet used to cover either battle scars or those resulting from syphilis treatment 85 knows plays on no 86 two … half i.e. covered with thick velvet 86 worn bare without a velvet patch/hairless (from syphilis) 88 liv’ry badge 89 belike probably 90 carbonadoed slashed (like meat for cooking)/cut in the manner of incisions made for syphilis treatment

Act 5 Scene 1

5.1 Location: Marseilles 1 exceeding posting exceptional haste 2 wear wear out 5 bold confident 5 my requital the reward I shall give you 6 In happy time fortunately met 6 Gentle Astringer gentleman keeper of hawks 8 spend exert 12 fall’n less than/altered 14 sharp urgent 14 occasions needs 15 nice overscrupulous 15 put urge/compel 20 petition request 26 hence removed departed from here 27 use custom 28 pains efforts 35 like likely 36 commend commit 37 presume assure (you) 40 means … means resources will enable us 43 falls more else happens 44 provide prepare

Act 5 Scene 2

5.2 Location: Rossillion 1 Lavache Parolles clarifies the name’s probable derivation (vache is French for “cow”) 4 mood anger/temper (puns on “mud”) 6 sluttish a whore/dirty 8 butt’ring preparation/cooking 8 allow the wind i.e. stand downwind of me, so I don’t have to smell you 9 stop block 14 me for me 15 paper i.e. soiled with excrement 16 close-stool toilet/chamber-pot enclosed in a stool 18 purr knave, jack in a card game/cat noise/animal dung 19 musk-cat i.e. perfume, the musky substance obtained from the anal glands of the civet cat 20 withal with it 21 carp fish bred in ponds/chatterer 22 ingenious wily/un-genious, i.e. stupid 23 smiles of comfort gloating (ironic usage) 27 pare trim 30 cardecue small silver coin 30 justices magistrates, responsible for dealing with beggars under Elizabethan law 36 “word” a single word, as Parolles’ name means “words” 36 Cox cock’s (i.e. God’s) 36 Cox my passion! By God’s passion! (i.e. Christ’s suffering) 38 me me out 39 sooth truth 39 lost parted with/abandoned 40 in into 40 grace favor 41 out of favor 42 Out upon thee expression of frustration and condemnation 45 inquire … me ask for me later

Act 5 Scene 3

1 of in 1 our esteem my worth 4 home fully, truly 6 make consider 7 Natural i.e. of the passions 7 i’th’blade in the greenness, immaturity (sometimes emended to “blaze” for consistency with subsequent fire imagery) 12 high bent pulled fully taut for action (like a bow) 13 watched awaited 15 my pardon i.e. you to pardon me 19 astonish stun/dazzle 19 survey sight, gaze 20 richest most noble/most experienced 25 view sight (of him) 25 kill All repetition put an end to going over past wrongs 27 dead forgotten (also a reminder that Helen is supposed dead) 29 incensing relics anger-rousing memories 30 stranger i.e. person whose story is unknown 32 GENTLEMAN i.e. an attendant 35 hath reference to is at the disposal of 39 day of season i.e. inclined to one unchanging disposition 39 season time of year/weather 42 Distracted breaking/agitated 44 high-repented blames bitterly regretted faults 45 to in 46 whole mended/well 47 consumèd used up/passed 48 take … top tug occasion by the forelock (hair at the front of the head) 49 quick’st most lively/urgent 54 stuck fixed 55 Durst dared 55 herald messenger 56 Where i.e. in my heart 56 impression image (of Lafew’s daughter) 56 infixing was implanted/fastened onto 57 perspective optical glass that produced a distorted image 58 favour (woman’s) face 59 fair colour beautiful appearance/pale complexion (considered attractive) 59 expressed deemed (it to be) 59 stol’n i.e. falsely created with cosmetics 60 Extended or contracted (the perspective) distorted by elongating or shortening 61 object spectacle/sight 62 she i.e. Helen 66 scores debts 67 great count large account/judgment day 68 remorseful compassionate 68 pardon reprieve from death 68 slowly carried i.e. delivered too late 69 turns becomes 71 Make trivial price undervalue 72 knowing acknowledging 72 know their grave i.e. lose them 73 displeasures wrongs 74 weep weep over, mourn 74 dust remains 76 out through 77 knell funeral bell 78 Maudlin Magdalen, Lafew’s daughter; means “sorrowful” (may recall Mary Magdalene) 79 main consents i.e. agreements of the most important parties 82 they meet Bertram and Maudlin marry/the first and second marriages become similar 82 cesse variant form of “cease” (some editors assign the closing couplet to the countess, though with no warrant from the Folio) 84 digested incorporated 84 favour love token 86 come yield/come forth 90 last last time 90 took her leave said farewell to her 96 bade told 97 Necessitied to in dire need of 98 reave deprive/rob 99 stead help, support 104 reckoned valued 105 At as highly as 105 rate worth 108 casement window 111 engaged pledged (to her) 111 subscribed To acknowledged 113 answer … overture respond honorably to her advances 115 heavy satisfaction sad resignation 117 Plutus Greek god of wealth 118 tinct tincture, elixir 118 multiplying med’cine alchemical formula for turning base metals into gold 119 science knowledge 124 to surety as witness 128 upon … disaster in the event of some terrible misfortune befalling her 131 conjectural speculative 132 fain willingly 138 fore-past former 138 fall turn out 139 Shall … vanity will not reprove my fears for being foolish; rather my fears have foolishly not been apprehensive enough 140 vainly stupidly/wrongly 141 sift examine carefully 141 Gentleman [the Astringer] though no mention is made here of his status as a hawk-keeper 150 for on account of 150 removes stages in a royal progress (Helen kept missing the king) 150 short i.e. too late 151 tender offer 152 vanquished won 153 this this time 154 looks manifests itself 155 importing visage countenance full of urgency 156 brief summary 161 honour’s paid i.e. virginity’s surrendered 161 taking no leave without saying goodbye 165 in at 165 fair i.e. where stolen or poor-quality goods were for sale; Lafew reasons that even there he would receive a better deal than in accepting Bertram for his daughter 165 toll for this sell Bertram at a market (where vendors paid a fee and entered their goods in the toll-book) 168 suitors petitioners 170 afeard afraid 171 foully snatched i.e. that she was murdered (on Bertram’s orders) 173 sith since 174 that since 174 fly … lordship flee them as soon as you promise to marry them 177 Derivèd descended 182 both shall cease i.e. she will die in dishonor 186 strange like a stranger 189 this hand i.e. Bertram’s 192 embodied yours made part of your body/united as one 197 fond foolish 201 you … friend they are not friendly toward you 202 gain them win them over again 208 impudent shameless, immodest 209 gamester sexual player, prostitute 213 validity value 214 parallel equal 215 commoner prostitute 217 ’tis hit the mark is hit, this is true 218 Of by 219 testament will 219 th’sequent issue the successive heir 220 owed owned 225 instrument agent, means 229 quoted for regarded as 229 perfidious treacherous 230 with by 230 spots stains, vices 230 taxed censured 230 deboshed debauched, corrupted 231 but merely 232 or … for (to be judged) one or the other according to 236 boarded accosted sexually 236 wanton playful/lascivious 237 knew her distance knew her inferiority of rank/knew how to tease from a distance 238 Madding maddening, provoking 239 fancy’s love’s/desire’s 241 insuite possibly “unusual” (some editors emend to “infinite”) 241 modern commonplace 242 subdued me made me submit 242 rate price 246 turned cast 247 diet restrain (from what I deserve) 256 goes is 260 boggle shy away (like a horse) 260 shrewdly sharply, greatly 260 starts startles 265 just proceeding honest speaking 266 By about 268 Tricks lustful tendencies 275 He … not i.e. wanted to have sex with her, but didn’t want to marry her 277 companion fellow/rascal 279 drum drummer 279 naughty wicked/unskilled 285 Limbo region on the border of hell for unbaptized infants and those born before the time of Christ 285 Furies three classical goddesses of vengeance 286 in … them so trusted by 288 motions proposals/sexual movements 289 derive bring 292 fine subtle 304 easy loose-fitting/sexually compliant 304 glove plays on the sense of “vagina” 304 goes … on plays on the sense of “orgasms and has sex” 305 at pleasure at will/for sexual pleasure 307 aught anything 314 put in provide 315 customer prostitute 316 if … you i.e. my virginity is intact 316 knew had sex with 325 owes owns 326 surety act as guarantor for 326 for as for 328 quit acquit/repay 332 quick alive 335 Beguiles tricks 335 truer office accurate function 338 shadow ghost/image/poor reflection/illusion 341 like disguised as 347 know understand 350 Deadly divorce divorcing death 353 handkercher handkerchief 354 Wait on accompany 354 make sport joke 355 court’sies polite gestures/bows 357 even plain, exact 362 progress … less greater and lesser details of events 363 Resolvedly in a way that resolves all questions 364 meet fittingly 365 past being past 368 express content i.e. with applause and calls of approval 369 strife striving, endeavor 369 exceeding after 370 Ours … parts i.e. let us reverse roles: the actors will listen patiently while the audience applaud actively 371 Your … us i.e. applaud 371 hearts gratitude