Classic Audiobook Collection - All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: April 25, 2025

All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: comedy In Alls Well That Ends Well, William Shakespeare follows the determined young Helena, a physician's daughter raised in the household of the Countess of Roussillon. Secretly devoted to the Countess' son, Bertram, Helena faces the hard truth of rank and expectation when Bertram is called to the French court and she is left behind. Refusing to accept a life of quiet longing, Helena takes a bold gamble: she travels to Paris and offers to cure the ailing King of France with remedies inherited from her late father. Her success earns her a reward that shocks the court and places her in direct conflict with pride, privilege, and the slippery definitions of honor. Thrust into a marriage that is more contract than romance, Helena must navigate Bertram's resistance, the swaggering antics of his companion Parolles, and the dangerous temptations of wartime Italy. By turns sharp, tender, and unsettling, the play explores love as persistence, reputation as performance, and the cost of trying to win what society says you cannot claim. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:01:59) Chapter 1 (00:36:15) Chapter 2 (01:22:20) Chapter 3 (01:49:22) Chapter 4 (02:25:18) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

all's well that ends well by william shakespeare act one scene one rosilion the count's palace enter bertram the countess of rosilion helena and la few all in black in delivering my son from me i bury a second husband and i in going mother weep o'er my father's death anew but i must attend his majesty's command to whom I am now in Ward, ever more in subjection. You shall find of the king a husband, madam, you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted,

rather than lack it where there is such abundance. What hope is there of His Majesty's amendment? He hath abandoned his physicians, madam, Under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope And finds no other advantage in the process, But only the losing of hope by time. This young gentlewoman had a father, Oh, that had!

How sad a passage t is! whose skill was almost as great as his honesty had it stretched so far would have made nature immortal and death should have play for lack of work would for the king's sake he were living i think it would be the death of the king's disease how coolly do the man you speak of madam he was famous sir in his profession and it was his great right to be so Gerard de Narpon. He was excellent indeed, madam. The king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly. He was skillful enough to have lived still if knowledge could be set up against mortality. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

O fistula, my lord. I heard not of it before. i would it were not notorious was this gentlewoman the daughter of gerard denouin his sole child my lord and bequeathed to my overlooking i have those hopes of her good that her education promises her disposition she inherits which makes fair gifts fairer for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities there Commendations go with pity. They are virtues and traitors, too. In her they are the better for their simpleness. She derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.

Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go too, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief, the enemy to the living. if the living be enemy to the grief the excess makes it soon mortal madam i desire your holy wishes how understand we that be thou blessed bertram and succeed thy father in manners as in shape thy blood and virtue contend for empire in thee and thy goodness share with thy birthright love all trust a few do wrong to none. Be able for thine enemy rather in power than use, and keep thy friend under thy own life's key. Be checked for silence, but never taxed for speech. What heaven more will that thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, fall on thy head. Farewell, my lord, tis an unseasoned courtier, could my lord advise him?

cannot want the best that shall attend his love heaven bless him farewell bertram exit to pelena the best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you be comfortable to my mother your mistress and make much of her farewell pretty lady you must hold the credit of your father exeunt bertram and lafue oh were that all I think not on my father, and these great tears grace his remembrance more than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him. My imagination carries no favorant but Bertram's. I am undone. There is no living, none if Bertram be away.

T'were all one that I should love a bright particular star and think to wed it. He is so above me. In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, Not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself. The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love.

T'was pretty, though plague, to see him every hour. To sit and draw his arched brows, His hawking eye, his curls in our heart's table. heart too capable of every line and trick of his sweet favour. But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy must sanctify his reliquies. Who comes here? Enter Perales. Aside.

One that goes with him. I love him for his sake. And yet I know him a notorious liar. Think him a great way fool, solely a coward. yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him that they take place when virtue's steely bones look bleak in the cold wind with all full oft we see cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly save you fair queen and you monarch no and no are you meditating on virginity ay you have some stain of soldier in you let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity. How may we barricado it against him? Keep him out. But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant in the defense yet is weak, unfold to us some

warlike resistance. There is none. Man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. Bless our poor virginity from underminer's and blowers up. Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men? Viginity being blown down, man will quickly be blown up. Mary, and blowing him down again with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, maybe ten times found.

By being ever kept, it is ever lost. Tis too cold a companion. Away with it! I will stand for to little, though therefore I am I. die a virgin there's little can be said in tis against the rule of nature to speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers which is most infallible disobedience he that hangs himself is a virgin virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit as a desperate offenderous against nature virginity breeds mites like a cheese, consumes itself to the very pairing, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited

sin in the canon. Keep it not. You cannot choose but lose by it. Out with it. Within ten it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase, and the principle itself not much the worse away with it how might one do sir to lose it to her own liking let me see mary ill to like him that ne'er it likes tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying the longer kept the less worth off with it while tis vendable answer the time of request virginity like an old courtier wears her cap out of fashion richly suited but unsuitable Just like the brooch and the toothpick, which we're not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears. It looks ill, it eats dryly.

Mary, tis a withered pear. It was formerly better. Mary, yet tis a withered pear. Will you anything with it? Not my virginity, yet. There shall your master have. have a thousand loves, a mother and a mistress and a friend, a phoenix captain, and an enemy, a guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, a counsellor, a traitoress, and a dear.

His humble ambition, proud humility, his jarring concord, and his discord, dulcet, his faith, his sweet disaster, with a world of pretty fond, adoptious christendoms, that blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he— I know not what he shall. God send him well. The court's a learning place, and he is one— What one, in faith? That I wish well. Tis pity. What's pity?

That wishing well had not a body in't, which might be felt. That we, the poorer born, whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, might with effects of them, follow our friends, and show what we alone must think which never return us thanks. Enter page. M. Perales, my lord calls for you. Exit. Ah, little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

Monsieur Perales, you were born under a charitable star. Under Mars, I? I especially think under Mars. Why, under Mars? The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars. When he was predominant. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

Why think you so? You go so much backward when you fight. That's for advantage. So is running away when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valor and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. I am so full of business. I cannot answer thee acutely.

I will return perfect courtier, in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee. Else thou diest in thy unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. Now when thou hast leisure, say thy prayers, when thou hast none remember thy first, friends. And get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. Exit. Our remedies often ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky gives us free scope, only doth backward pull our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.

What power is it which mounts my love so high That makes me see and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune Nature brings to join like likes and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those that weigh their pains and sense And do suppose what hath been cannot be. Whoever strove so show her merit that did miss her love. The king's disease.

My project may deceive me, but my intents are fixed and will not leave me. Exit Scene 2 Paris, the king's palace. Flowerish of Cornets Enter the King of France with letters and diverse attendants. The Florentines and Cenoys are by the ears,

have fought with equal fortune, and continue a braving war. So tis reported, sir. Nay, tis most credible. We here received it to certainty, vouched from our cousin Austria, with caution that the Florentine will move us for speedy aid, wherein our dearest friend prejudicates the business

and would seem to have us make denial. His love and wisdom, approve so to your majesty, may plead for amplest credence. He hath armed our answer, and Florence is denied before he comes, yet for our gentlemen mean to see the Tuscan service freely have they leave to stand on either part? It well may serve a nursery to our gentry, who are sick for breathing an exploit.

What's he comes here? Enter Bertram, Lafew and Parolus. It is the Count Rosalon, my good lord, young Bertram. You, thou bears thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in haste hath well composed thee. Father's model parts mayst thou inherit too. Welcome to Paris. My thanks and duty are your majesties.

I would I had that corporal soundness now, as when thy father and myself in friendship first tried our soldier-ship? He did look far into the service of the time, and was disciples to the bravest. He lasted long, but on us both did haggish age, steal on and wore us out of act. It much repairs me to to take. 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, ere they can hide their levity in honour. So, like a courtier, contempt, nor bitterness were in his pride, or sharpness. If they were, his equal had awaked them, and his honour. Clock to itself knew the true minute when exception bid him speak, and at this This time his tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below him he used as creatures of another place, and bowed his eminent top to their low ranks, making them proud of his humility. In their poor praise he humbled.

Such a man might be a copy to these younger times, which, followed well, would demonstrate them now, but goes backward. His good remembrance, sir, lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb. So, in a proof, lives not. not his epitaph, as in your royal speech. Would I were with him? He would always say, Methinks I hear him now,

his plausible words he scattered not in ears, but grafted them, to grow there, and to bear. Let me not live. This his good melancholy oft began, on the catastrophe and healed of pastime, when it was out. Let me not live, quoth he,

after my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses all but new things disdain, whose judgments are mere fathers of their garments, whose constances expire before their fashions. This he wished, I, after him, do after him wish too, since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive to give some labourer's room.

You are loved, sir. They that least lend it you shall lack you first. I fill the place, I note. How longest, Count, since the physician that your father's died, he was much famed? Some six months since, my lord. If he were living, I would try him yet. Then me an arm, the rest have worn me out with several applications. Nature and sickness debated at their leisure.

Welcome, Count, my son's now, dearer. Thank your Majesty. Excerant. Flourish. Scene 3. Rosilion. The Count's Palace. Enter Countess, steward, and clown. I will now hear, what say you of this gentlewoman? Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavors. For then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings when of ourselves we publish them.

What does this knave here? dear get you gone sirrah 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 neighbour is yours tis not unknown to you madam i am a poor fellow well sir no madam tis not so well that i am poor though many of the rich are damned but if i'm may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbell, the woman, and I will do as we may. Will thou needs be a beggar? I do beg your goodwill, in this case. In what case? In Isbel's case, and mine own.

Service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body, for they say, bairns, or, they say, berns, Our blessings. Tell me thy reason why thou ought to marry. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go, that the devil drives. Is this all your worship's reason? Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

May the world know them. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and All flesh and blood are, and indeed, I do marry, that I may repent. Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness? I am out of friends, madam, and I hope to have friends, for my wife's sake. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Your shallow, madam, in great friends, for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a weary of. He that

ears my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to, in the crop. If I be his cuckled, he's my drudge. He that comforts my wife, is the cherisher 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. He that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage, for young Charbonne, the Puritan, and old Poysome, the Papist, how some air their hearts

are severed in religion, their heads are both one. They may jowl horns together, like any deer in the herd. Wilt thou ever be a father? Mouthed and columnious knave. A prophet I, madam, and I speak the truth the next way. For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true shall find. Your marriage comes by destiny. Your cuckoo sings by kind. Get you gone, sir.

I'll talk with you more anon. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you. Of her I am to speak. sirrah tell my gentlewoman i would speak with her helen i mean was this fair face the cause quoth she why the grecians sacked troy fond done done fond was this king priam's joy with that she sighed as she stood with that she sighed as she stood and gave this sentence then among nine bad if one be good among nine bad if one be good there's yet one good in ten what one good in ten you corrupt the song sir one good woman in ten madam which is a purifying of the song would god would serve the world so all the year we'll find no fault with the tithe woman if i were the parson one in ten quotha and we might have a good woman born but won every blazing star or at an earthquake to amend the lottery well a man may draw his heart out ere a pluck one

you'll be gone sir knave and do as i command you that man should be at woman's command and yet no hurt done though honesty be no puritan yet it will do no no hurt. It will wear the surplus of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. Exit. Well now. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Faith, I do. Her father bequeathed her to me, and she herself without other advantage may lawfully make title to us. much love as she finds. There is more

owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than she'll demand. Madam, I was very late, 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 was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess that had put such difference betwixt their two estates love no god that would not extend his might only where qualities were level diane no queen of virgins that would suffer her poor knight surprised without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward this she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that ere i heard virgin exclaim in which i held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal withal if in the loss that may happen it concerns you something to know it you have discharged this honestly keep it to yourself many likelihoods informed me of this before which hung so tottering in the balance that i could neither believe nor miss doubt pray you leave me

stall this in your bosom and i thank you for your honest care i will speak with you further anon exit steward enter helena even so it was with me when i was young if ever we are natures these are ours this thorn doth to our rows 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 her eye is sick on't i observe her now what is your pleasure madam you know helen i am a mother to you mine honourable mistress nay a mother why not a mother when i said a mother he thought you saw a serpent what's in mother that you started it i say i am your mother and put you in the catalogue of those that were in womomed mine. Tis often seen adoption strives with nature and choice breeds a native split to us from foreign seeds. You ne'er oppressed me with a mother's groan, yet I expressed to you a mother's care. God's mercy, maiden, does it

caird thy blood to say I am thy mother? What's the matter that this distempered message of wet, the many-coloured iris round's thine eye. Why, that you are my daughter? That I am not. I say I am your mother. Pardon, madam, the Count Rosilion cannot be my brother. I am from humble, he from honoured name. No note upon my parents, his all noble. My master, my dear Lord he is, and I his servant live, and will his vassal die. He must not be my brother. Nor I your mother. You are my mother, madam.

Would you were? So that my lord your son were not my brother. Indeed my mother. Or were you both our mothers I care no more for than I do for heaven, so I were not his sister? Can't no other but I your daughter, he? must be my brother yes helen you might be my daughter-in-law god shield you mean it not daughter and mother so strive upon your pulse what pale again my fear has catched your fondness now I see the mystery of your loneliness and find your salt

tears head. Now to all sense tis gross you love my son. Invention is ashamed against 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 the one to the other, and thine eyes see it so grossly shown in thy behaviour, that in their kind they speak it. Only sin and hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue that truth should be suspected. Speak, isst so? If it be so you have wound a goodly clue. If it be not for sweat, howe'er I charge thee,

As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, Tell me truly. Good madam, Pardon me. Do you love my son? Your pardon, noble mistress. Love you, my son. Do not you love him, madam?

Go not about. My love hath into bond Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose the state of your affection, For your passions have to the fuller peached. Then, I confess, Here on my knees before High Heaven and you, that before you and next unto High Heaven,

I love your son. My friends 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, nor would I have him till I do deserve him, yet never know how that dessert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope, yet, in this captious and in tenable sieve, I still pour in the waters of my love, and lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, and religious in mine error, I adore the sun that looks upon his worshipper,

but knows of him no more. My dearest madam, let not your hate encounter with my love for loving where you do. But if yourself whose aged honour sights a virtuous youth did ever, so true a flame of liking wish chastly and love dearly, that your dion was both herself 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, that seeks not to find that her search implies, but riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, to go to Paris?

"'Madam, I had.' "'Wherefore? Tell true.' "'I will tell truth. By grace itself, I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions of rare and proved effects, such as his reading and manifest experience had collected for general sovereignty, and that he willed me in heedfulest reservation to bestow them, as notes whose faculties inclusive were more than they were in note. Amongst the rest there is a remedy, approved, set down, to cure the desperate languishings

whereof the king is rendered lost. This was your motive for Paris, was it? Speak. My lord, your son made me to think of this, else Paris and the medicine and the king had from the conversation of my thoughts happily been absent then. But think you, Helen, if you should tender your supposed aid, he would receive it? He and his physicians are of a mind, he that they cannot help him, they that they cannot help. How shall they credit a poor, unlearned virgin, when the schools embold of their doctrine have left off the danger to itself?

There's something, int, more than my father's skill, which was the greatest of his profession, that his good receipt shall for my legacy be sanctified by the luckiest stars in heaven, and would your honour but, give me leave to try success, I'll venture the well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure by such a day and hour. "'Dast thou believed?' "'I, madam, knowingly.' "'Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, means and attendance, and my loving greetings to those of mine in court. I'll stay at home and pray God's blessing into thy attempt. Be gone tomorrow, and be sure of this, what I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. Excerant. End of Act 1.

Act 2 of All's Well That Ends Well. This is a Liprevox recording. All Liprox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Liprevox.org. Act 2 of All's Well That Ends Well by William Sheprox. Shakespeare. Scene 1. Paris. The King's Palace. Flourish of Cornets. Enter the King, attended with Devers young lords, taking leave for the Florentine War, Bertram and Paroles. Farewell, young lords, these warlike principles do not throw from you, and you, my lords, farewell. Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain, all the gift doth stretch itself as tis received, and is enough for both.

Tis our hopes, sir, after well-entered soldiers, to return and find your grace in health. No, no, it cannot be. And yet my heart will not confess he owes the malady that doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords, whether I live or die, be you the sons of worthy friendship, men. Let hire Italy, those baited that inherit but the fall of the last monarchy, see that you come not to woo honour, but to wed it. When the bravest quest and shrinks, find what you seek, that fame may cry you loud. I say farewell. Health at your bidding, serve your majesty. Those girls of Italy take heed of them. They say are French-like language to deny if they demand,

Beware of being captives before you serve. Our hearts receive your warnings. Farewell. Come hitherto me. Exit, attendant. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us. Tis not his fault, the spark. Oh, tis brave wars.

Most admirable, I have seen those wars. I am commanded here and kept a coil with Too Young and the next year, tis too early and thy mind stand to it boys steal away bravely i shall stay here the fore-horse to a smock creaking my shoes on the plain masonry till honour be bought up and no sword worn but one to dance with by heaven i'll steal away there's honour in the theft commit it count i am your accessory and so farewell i grow to you and our parting is a tortured body farewell captain sweet monsieur parolus noble heroes my sword and yours are kin good sparks and lustrous a word good metals you shall find in the regiment of the spiny eye one captain spurio with his cicatress and emblem of war here on his sinister cheek it was this very sword entrenched it say to him i live and observe his reports for me we shall noble captain exeunt lords mars dote on you for his novices what will ye do stay the king re-enter king bertram and parolus retire to bertram

you some more spacious ceremony to the noble lords you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold and adieu be more expressive to them for they wear themselves in the cap of the time there do muster true gait even though eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most receivate star, and though the devil lead the measure such are to be followed, after them, and take a more dilated farewell. And I will do so. Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy swordmen. Excent, Bertram, and Perales, and tell a few, kneeling. Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.

I'll fee thee to stand up. Then here's a man's stand, that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneeled, my lord, to ask me mercy, and that at my bidding you could so stand up. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate and asked thee mercy for it. Good faith a cross, but my good lord, tis thus, Will you be cured of your infirmity? No.

Oh, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will my noble grapes, and if my royal fox could reach them. I have seen a medicine that's able to breathe life into a stone, quicken a rock and make you dance canary with sprightly fire and motion whose simple touch is powerful to erase king pepin nay to give great charlemagne a pennine's hand and write to her a love-line what her is this 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, I have spoke with one that in her sex, her years, profession, wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her, for that is her demand,

and know her business. That done, laugh well at me. Now good lover, bring in the admiration that we with thee may spend our wonder too, or take off thine by wondering how thou took'st it. Nay, I'll fit you, and not be all day neither. Exit. Thus he his special nothing ever prologs.

Re-enter Lafew, with Helena. Nay, come your ways. This haste hath wings indeed. 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 Cresd's uncle that dare leave two together. fare you well.

Exit. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? I, my good lord, Gerard de Narbon was my father, in what he did profess, well found. I knew him? The rather will I spare my praises towards him, knowing him is enough.

On sped of death many receipts he gave me, chiefly one, which as the dearest issue of this price, and of his old experience the oily darling, he bad me store up as a triple eye safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so, and hearing your high majesty is touched with that malignant cause wherein the honour of my dear father's gifts and chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance with all bound humbleness. We thank you, maiden, but may not be so credulous of cure when our most learned Doctors leave us, and the congregated college have concluded that labouring art can never ransom nature from her inedible estate. I say we must not sustain our judgment or corrupt our hope to prostitute our past cure malady to empirics, or to dissever so our great self and our credit to esteem a senseless help, when help past sense we deem.

My duty then shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce my. office on you, humbly entreating from your royal thoughts a modest one to bear me back again. I cannot give thee less to be called grateful. Thou thoughts 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, I, knowing all my peril, thou know art. What I can do can do no hurt to try, since you set up your rest gainst remedy, he that of greatest works his finisher oft does them by the weakest minister so holy writ in babes hath judgment shone when judges have been babes great floods have flown from simple sources and great seas have dried when miracles have by the greatest been denied oft expectation fails and most oft there where most it promises and oft it hits where hope is coldest and despair most fits

i must not hear thee fare thee well kind maid thy pains not used must by thyself be paid proffers not took reap thanks for their reward inspired merit so by breath is barred it is not so with him that all things knows as tis with us that square our guests by shows but most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men dear sir to my endeavors give consent. Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor that proclaim 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. Are thou so confident? Within what space hopes thou my cure? The greatest grace, lending grace, ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring their fiery torture his diurnal ring, ere twice in murk in Occidental damp, Moist Hesperus hath quenched his sleepy lamp, Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass hath told the thievish minutes how they pass,

What is infirm from your sound part shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. Upon thy certainty and confidence, what darest thou venture? Tacks of impudence, a strumpets bow't'st'n't bow. a divulged shame, produced by odious ballads, My maiden's name seared otherwise, Nay worse, if worse,

Extended with vilest torture, Let my life be ended. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit Doth speak his powerful sound Within an organ week, And what impossibility would slay In common sense, Sense saves another way.

Thy life is dear, For all that life can rate, worth name of life in thee hath estimate. Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all that happiness and prime can happy call. Thou this to hazard needs must intimate, skill, infinite, or monstrous, desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, that ministers thine own death if I die. If I break time or flinch in property of what I spoke, unpityed let me die. and well-deserved, not helping, death's my fee. But, if I help, what do you promise me?

Make thy demand. But will you make it even? I, by my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand, what husband in thy power I will command. Exempted 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. Here is my hand the premises observed.

Thy will by my performance shall be served, so make the choice of thine own time, for I thy resolvid patient on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, though more to know could not be more to trust. From whence thou camst thou tended on, but rest, Unquestioned welcome and undoubted blessed. Give me some help here, oh!

If thou proceed as high as word, My deed shall match thy me. Flowerish, accent. Scene two Rosilion, the Count's Palace. Enter Count's. and clown. Come on, sir, I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.

I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court. To the court? Why, what place makes you special when you put off that with such contempt, but to the court? Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put 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 will serve all men mary that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions

It's like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks, the pin buttock, the quatch buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tibbs rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May Day, as the nail to his whole, the cuckled, to his horn, as a scolding queen, to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding, to his skin. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? from below your duke to beneath your constable. It will fit any question.

It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands. But a trifle neither, in good faith. If the learned should speak truth of it, here it is, and all that belongs to it. Ask me if I am a courtier. It shall do you no harm to learn. To be young again if we can. Good. I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?

Oh, Lord, sir. There's a simple putty enough. More, more, more, a hundred of them. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you. Oh, Lord, sir. Thick, thick, spare not to me. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. Oh, oh, Lord, sir. Nay, put me to it, I warrant you.

You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Oh, Lord, sir, spare not me. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whipping, and spare not me? and spare not me indeed your own lord sir is very secret to your whipping you would answer very well to your whipping if you were but bound to it i ne'er had worse luck in my life in my oh lord sir i see things may serve long but not serve ever i play the noble housewife with the time to entertain so merrily with a fool oh lord sir why there it serves well again an end sir to your business give helen this and urge her to a present answer back commend me to my kinsman and my son this is not much not much commendation to them not much employment for you you understand me most most fruitfully i am there before my legs haste you again accent severally scene three paris the king's palace enter bertram lafue and parolus

they say miracles are past and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless hence it is that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. Why, tis the rarest argument of wonder that has shot out in our latter times. And so it is. To be relinquished of the artists. So I say. Both of Galen and Paracelsus.

So I say. of all the learned and authentic fellows. Ha! Right, so I say. That gave him out incurable. Why, there it is. So say I too. Not to be helped. Right, as twere a man assured of a...

Uncertain life and sure death. Just, you say well, so would I have said. I may truly say it is a novelty to the world. It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in. What do you call it there? A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. Oh, that's it.

I would have said the very same. Why, your dolphin is not lustier. For me, I speak in respect. nay tis strange it is very strange that is the brief and the tedious of it and he's of a most fastenerius spirit that would not acknowledge it to be the very hand of heaven ay so i say in a most weak and debile minister great power great transcendence which should indeed give us a further use to be made than alone the recovery of the king has to be generally thankful i would have said it you say well here comes the king enter king helena and attendants lafue and parolus retire lustig as the dutchman says how like a maid the better whilst i have a tooth in my head why he is able to lead her a coranto mord du venegr is not this helen for god i think so go call before me all the lords in court

sit my preserver by thy patient side and with this healthful hand whose banished sense thou hast for repealed a second time receive the confirmation of my promised gift which but attends thy naming enter three or four lords fair maid send forth thine eye this youthful parcel of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing or whom both sovereign power and fathers voice I have to use. Thy frank election make. Thou hast power to choose, And they none to forsake. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall when love please.

Marry to each but one. I'd give Bay Curtle and his furniture. My mouth no more were broken than these boys, And writ us little beard. Peruse them well. Not one of those but had a noble father. GERALDINE. GERALDINE.

GERALDINE. We understand it, and thank Heaven for you. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest, that I protest I simply am a maid. Please, it, Your Majesty, I have done already, the blushes in my cheeks, thus whisper me. We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused, let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever, will ne'er come there again. Make choice, and see, Who shuns thy love?

Shuns all his love in me? Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial love, that God most high, Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? And grant it? Thanks, sir, all the rest is mute. I had rather be in this choice.

than throw Ames-Ais for my life. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak too threateningly replies, Love make your fortunes twenty times above her That so wishes and her humble love. No better, if you please. My wish receive, which great love grant, And so I take my leave.

Do they all deny her? And they were sons of mine, I'd have them wish. Or I would send them to the Turk to make eunuchs of. 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. These boys are boys of ice.

They'll none have her. Sure they are bastards to the English, the French ne'er got'em. You are too young, too happy, and too good to make yourself. a son out of my blood. Fair one, I think not so. There's one grape yet. I am sure thy father drunk wine. But if thou beest not an ass,

I am a youth of fourteen. I have known thee already. Helena, to Bertram. I dare not say I take you, but I give me and my service ever service ever whilst I live into your guiding power. This is the man. Why, then, young Bertram, take her, she is thy wife. My wife, my liege. I shall beseech, Your Highness. In such a business, could me leave to use

the health of my own eyes. Nost thou not, Bertram, what she has done for me? Yes, my good lord, but never hope to know why I should marry her. Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down, must answer for your raising? I know her well. She had her breeding at my father's charge. Her poor physician's daughter, my wife! Disdain rather corrupt me ever! Tis only title thou disdainsst in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods of colour, weight, and heat, poured altogether

would quite confound distinction, yet stand off indifference is so mighty. If she be all that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, a poor physician's daughter, thou dislikeest a virtue for the name, but do not so, from lowest place when virtuous things proceed, the place is dignified by the doer's deed. Where great addition swells and virtue none, it is a dropsid honour. Good alone, it's good without a name, vileness is so. The property by what it is should go, not by the title. She is young, wise, fair.

In these to nature she's immediate air, And these breed honour. That is honour's scorn, which challenges itself, As honours born, and is not like the sire. Honours thrive, when rather from our acts we then, them derive than our foregoers. The mere words are slave, deboshed on every tomb, on every grave, a lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, where dust and damned oblivion is the tomb of honoured bones indeed. 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, honour and wealth from me. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do it. Thou wrongst thyself if thou should strive to choose. That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad. Let the rest go. My honours at the stake, which to defeat I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, proud, scornful boy, Unworthy this good gift that doth in vile misprison shackle up my love and her desert that canst not dream. We, poising us in her defective scale, shall weigh thee to the beam,

that wilt not know it is in us to plant thine honour where we please to have it grow. Check thy contempt, obey our will which travels in thy good. Believe not thy disdain, that presently do thine own fortunes that obedient right, which both thy duty owes and our power claims, or I will throw thee from my care for ever into the staggers and the careless lapse of youth and ignorance, both my revenge and hate loosing upon thee in the name of justice, without all terms of pity.

Speak, thine answer. Pardon, my gracious lord, for I submit my fancy to your eyes, when i consider what great creation and what dole of honour flies where you bid it i find that she which late was in my noble thoughts most base is now the praisid of the king who so ennobled is as twere born so take her by the hand and tell her she is thine to whom i promise a counterpoise if not to thy estate a balance more replete i take her hand good fortune and the favour of the king smile upon this contract whose ceremony shall seem expedient on the now-born brief and be performed to-night the solemn feast shall more attend upon the coming space expecting absent friends as thou lovest her thy loves to me religious else does her accent all but la few and parolice advancing do you hear monsieur a word with you. Your pleasure, sir? Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. Ha! Recantation! My lord! My master!

Aye, is it not a language I speak? A most harsh one and not to be understood without bloody succeeding, my master! Are you companion to the Count Rassilian? to any count to all counts to what is man to what is count's man count's master is of another style you are too old sir let it satisfy you you are too old i must tell thee sirrah i write man to which title age cannot bring thee what i dare too well do i dare not do I did think thee for two ordinaries to be a pretty wise fellow. Thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel. It might pass.

Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I have now found thee. When I lose thee again, I can. not. Yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou'rt scarce worth. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee? Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial, which if, Lord, have mercy on thee for a hen. So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well, thy case,

I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. My lord, you give me the most egregious indignity. I, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. I have not, my lord, deserved it. Yes, good faith, every dram of it, and I will not bait thee a scruple. Well, I shall be wiser. even as soonest thou canst for thou hast to pull at a smack o the contrary if ever thou beest bound in thy scarf and beaten thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage i have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee or rather my knowledge that i may say in the default he is a man i know

My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. I would it were hell pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal. For doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. Exit. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me. scurvy old filthy scurvy lord well i must be patient there is no fettering of authority i'll beat him by my life if i can meet him with any convenience anywhere double and double lord i'll have no more pity of his age than if i would have i'll beat him and if i could but meet him again re-enter la few sirrah your lord and master's married there's news for you you have a new mistress i most unfaidedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs

he is my good lord whom i serve above is my master who god ay sir the devil it is that's thy master why dost thou garter up thy arms in this fashion dost make hose of sleeves do other servants so thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands by mine honour if i were but two hours younger i beat thee methinks thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. That is hard and undeservant measure, my lord. Go too, sir. You were beaten in Italy for picking a colonel out of a pomegranate. You are a vagabond and no true traveller.

You are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. Exit. Good, very good. It is so, then. Good, very good.

Let it be concealed a while. Re-enter Bertram. Undone and forfeited to cares forever. What's the matter, sweetheart? Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her. What? What, sweetheart? Oh, my parolees, they have married me!

I'll to the Tuscan Wars, and never bed her. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot. To the wars! There's letters from my mother. What the import is I know not yet. Aye, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen.

that hugs his kicky-wiki here at home, spending his manly marrow in her arms, which should sustain the bound and high curvet of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions, France is a stable, we that dwell in, jades. Therefore, to the war! 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

Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife to the dark house and the detested wife. Will this capriced you hold in thee? Are sure? Go with me to my chamber and advise me. I'll send her straight away. Tomorrow, I'll to the wars. She, to her single sorrow.

Why, these balls bound, there's noise in it. Tis hard. A young man married is a man that's marred. Therefore, away and leave her bravely. Go! The king has done you wrong, but hush, tis so. Excent Scene 4.

Paris, the king's palace. Enter Helena and Clown. My mother greets me kindly. Is she well? She is. not well, 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 nothing in the world.

But yet she is not well. If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not very well? Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things. What two things? One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly, the other, that she's in earth, from whence God sent her quickly.

Enter Perales. Bless you, my fortunate lady. I hope, sir, I have your goodwill to have mine own good fortunes. You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on, have them still. Oh, my name, how does, my old lady?

so that you had her wrinkles and i her money i would she did as you say why i say nothing mary you are the wiser man for many a man's tongue shakes out 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 which is within a very little of nothing away thou art a knave you should have said sir before a knave thou art a knave that's before me thou art a knave this had been truth sir go too thou art a witty fool i have found thee did you find me 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 the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter a good nay the faith and well fed madam my lord will go away to-night a very serious business calls on him the great prerogative and right of love which as your due time claims he does acknowledge but puts it off to a compelled restraint whose want and whose delight delays, strewed with sweets, which they distil now in the curbid time to make the coming hour all flow with joy, and pleasure down the brim.

What's his will else? That you will take your instant leave of the king, and make this haste as your own good proceeding, strengthened with what apology you think may make it probable need. What more commands he? That having this obtained, you presently attend his further pleasure. in everything i wait upon his will i shall report it so i pray you exit parolus come sirrah exeunt scene five paris the king's palace enter lafue and bertram but i hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier yes my lord and a very valiant a proof you have it from his own deliverance and by a warranted testimony?

Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a bunting. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge and, accordingly, valiant. I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour, and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. here he comes i pray you make us friends i will pursue the amity enter parolus to bertram these things shall be done sir pray you sir who's his tailor sir oh i know him well hi sir he sir as a good workman a very good tailor aside to parolus is he gone to the king she is he is he will she away to-night as you'll have her i have writ my letters casketed my treasure given order for our horses and to-night when i should take possession of the bride and ere i do begin

a good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with should be once heard and thrice beaten god save you captain is there any unkindness between my lord and you monsieur i know not how i have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure you have made shift to run into it boots and spurs and all like him that leapt into the custard and out of it you'll run again rather than suffer question for your residence It may be you have mistaken him, my lord, and shall do so ever, though I took him at prayers. Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me, there can be no colonel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. i have kept of them tame and know their natures farewell monsieur i have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand

but we must do good against evil exit an idle lord i swear i think not so why do you not know him yes i do know him well i do know him well i am i i swear i think not so why do you not know him well and common speech gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. Enter Helena. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, spoke with the king and have procured his leave for present parting. Only he desires some private speech with you. I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel Helen at my course, which holds not colour with the time, nor does the ministration and required office 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 than ask why I entreat you, for my respects are better than they seem, and my appointments have in them a need greater than shows itself at the first view to you that know them not. This, to my mother, giving a letter.

It will be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom. I can nothing say, but that I am your most obedient servant. Come come, can't know more of that. And ever shall, with true observance, seek to eke out that wherein toward me my homely stars have failed to equal my great fortune. Let that go. My haste is very great. Farewell, high, home.

Pray, sir, your pardon. Well, what would you say? I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, nor dare I say to his. mine, and yet it is, but like a timorous thief most vain would steal what law does vouch mine own. What would you have? Something, and scarce so much, nothing indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord.

Faith, yes, strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss. I pray you, stay not, but haste to horse. I shall not break your bidding, good, my lord. Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell. Exit Helena. Go thou toward home, where I will never come, whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum. Away, and for our flight!

Bravely! Corradio! Excent End of Act 2 Act 3 of All's Well That Ends Well. This is a Liprevox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Act 3 of All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare.

Scene 1 Florence, the Duke's Palace Flourish Enter the Duke of Florence attended, the two Frenchmen with a troop of soldiers. So that from point to point now have you heard the fundamental reasons of this war whose great decision hath much blood let forth and more thirsts after holy seems the quarrel upon your grace's part black and fearful on the opposer therefore we marvel much our cousin france would in so just a business shut his bosom against our borrowing prayers good my lord the reasons of our state i cannot yield but like a common and an outward man that the great figure of a council frames by self-enable motion therefore dare not so

say what I think of it, since I have found myself in my uncertain grounds to fail as often as I guessed. Be it his pleasure. But I am sure the younger of our nature, that surf it on their ease, will day by day come here for physic. Welcome shall they be, and all the honours that fly from us shall on them settle. You know your places well when better fall for your avails they fell, tomorrow to the field. Flaurish, Excent, Scene 2 Rosilion, the Count's Palace

Enter Countess and Clown It has happened all as I would have had it Save that he comes not along with her By my troth, I take my young lord To be a very melancholy man By what observance I pray you Why, he will look upon his boot And sing

mend the roof and sing Ask questions and sing Pick his teeth and sing I know a man that had this trick of melancholy Sold a goodly manner for a song Let me see what he writes And when he means to come Opening a letter

I have no mind to Isbell Since I was at court Our old Ling and our Isbells of the country Are nothing like your your oldling and your isbells are the court the brains of my cupids knocked out and i begin to love as an old man loves money with no stomach what have we here in that you have there exit countess reads I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered the king and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her,

and sworn to make the not 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 a long distance. My duty to you, your unfortunate son bertram this is not well-rashened unbridled boy to fly the favours of so good a king to pluck his indignation on thy head by the misprising of a maid too virtuous for the contempt of empire re-enter clown

oh madam yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady what is the matter nay there is some comfort in the news some comfort your son will not be killed so soon as i thought he would why should he be killed so say i madam if he run away as i hear he does the danger is in standing to it that's the loss of men though it be the getting of children here they come will tell you more for my part i Only here, your son was run away. Exit. Enter Helena and two gentlemen. Save you, good madam. Madam, my lord has gone, forever gone.

Do not say so. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief that the first face of neither on the start can woman me unto it. Where is, my son, I pray you? madam he's gone to serve the duke of florence we met him thitherward for thence we came and after some dispatch in hand at court thither we bend again look on his letter madam here's my passport 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 brought you this letter gentlemen ay madam and for the contents sake are sorry for our pain i prithee lady have a better cheer if thou ingrothest all the griefs are thine thou robst me of a moiety

he was my son but i do wash his name out of my blood and thou art all my child towards florence is he i madam and to be a soldier such is his noble purpose and believed the duke will lay upon him all the honour that good convenience claims return you thither ay madam with the swiftest wing of speed reeds till i have no wife i have nothing in france tis bitter find you that there ay madam tis but the boldness of his hand haply which his heart was not consenting to 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 boys might tend upon and call her hourly mistress who was with him a servant only and a gentleman which i have some time known p'arrollis was it not ay my good lady he a very tainted fellow and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature with his inducement. Indeed, good lady, the fellow has a deal of that too much, which holds him much to have. 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 to bear along. we serve you madam in that and all your worthiest affairs not so but as we change our courtesies will you draw near exeunt countess and gentlemen till i have no wife i have nothing in france nothing in france until he have no wife thou shalt have none rosilion 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 of the nun sparing war and is it i that drive thee from the sport of court where thou wast shot at with fair eyes to be the mark of smoky muskets O, you leaden messengers that ride upon the violent speed of fire, fly with false aim! Move the still-peering air that sings with piercing. Do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there.

Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the cative that do hold him to it. And though I kill him not, I am the cause his death was so affected. Better twere I met the raven lion when he roared with charge. sharp constraint of hunger. Better twere that all the miseries which nature owes were mine at once! No, come thou home, Resilion, whence honour but of danger wins a scar, as oft it loses all. I will be gone. My being here it is that holds thee hence. Shall I stay here to do it? No. No, although the air of paradise did fan the house and angels offest all, I will be gone. that pitiful rumor may report my flight to consulate thine ear come night end day for with the dark poor thief i'll steal away

exit scene three florence before the duke's palace flourish enter the duke of florence bertram parolus soldiers drum and trumpets The general of our horse thou art, and we, great in our hope, lay our best love and credence upon thy promising fortune. Sir, it is a charge too heavy for my strength, but yet we'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, to the extreme edge of hazard. Then go thou forth, and fortune play upon thy prosperous helm as thy auspicious mistress. This very day, great Mars, I put myself into thy file. Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove a lover of thy drum, hater of love. Excent Scene 4.

Rossilion, the Count's Palace. Enter Countess and steward. Alas! And would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done by sending me a letter? Read it again. REITS I am St. Jock's pilgrim, thither gone. Ambitious love hath so in me offended,

that barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war, My dearest master, your dear son, may high, Bless him at home in peace whilst I from far his name, With zealous fervour sanctify. His taken labours bid him me forgive. I, his despiteful Juno sent him forth from courtly friends with camping foes to live,

where death endanger dogs the heels of worth. He is too good and fair for death and me, whom I myself embrace to set him free. What sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much as letting her pass so. Had I spoke with her, I could have well-divered her intents, which thus she have prevented. Pardon me, madam. If I had given you this at overnight, she might have been Oatain, and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. What angel shall bless this unworthy husband! He cannot thrive unless her prayers,

whom heaven delights to hear and loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath of greatest justice. Write, right, Rinaldo, to this unworthy husband of his wife. Let every word weigh heavy of 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 happily he is, 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 to make distinction. Provide this messenger. My heart is heavy and

mine age is weak. Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. exce scene five florence without the walls a tuck at afar off enter an old widow of florence diana violenta and marianna with other citizens nay come for if they do approach the city we shall lose all the sight they say the french count has done most honorable service it is reported that he has taken their greatest commander and that with his own hand he slew the duke brother tucket we have lost our labor they are gone a contrary way hark you may know by their trumpets come let's return again and suffice ourselves with the report of it well diana take heed of this french earl the honor of a maid is her name and no legacy is so rich as honesty i have told my neighbor how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion i know that knave hang him one parolees a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl beware of them diana their promises enticements oaths tokens and all these engines of lust are not the thing they go under many a maid hath been seduced by them and the misery is example that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood cannot for all that disway succession but that they are lined with the twigs to threaten them i hope i need not to advise you first but i hope your own grace will keep you where you are though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is lost you shall not need to fear me i hope so

enter helena disguised like a pilgrim look here comes a pilgrim i know she will lie at my house thither they send one another i'll question her god save you pilgrim whither are you bound to st jacques le grande where do the palmer's lodge i do beseech you at the St. Francis here, beside the port. Is this the way? I marry, ist. A march afar. Hark you, they come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, but till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodged,

the rather, for, I think I know your hostess as ample as myself. Is it yourself? If you shall please so, pilgrim. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. You came, I think, from France? I did so. Here you shall see a countryman of yours that has done worthy service. His name, I pray you.

The Count Rassilian, know you such a one? But by the ear that hears most nobly of him, his face I know not. What's a mare he is he's bravely taken here? He stole from France, as tis reported, for the king had married him against his liking. think you it is so ay surely mere the truth i know his lady there is a gentleman that serves the count reports but coarsely of her what's his name mr p'rollis oh i believe with him an argument of praise or to the worth of the great count himself she is too mean to have her name repeated all her deserving is a reserved honesty and that i have not heard examined alas poor lady tis a hard bondage to become the wife of a detesting lord i warrant good creature whereso'er she is her heart weighs sadly this young maid might do her a shrewd turn if she pleased how do you mean maybe the amorous count solicits her in the unlawful purpose he does indeed and brooks with all that can in such a suit corrupt the tender honour of a maid but she is armed for him and keeps her guard and honestest defense.

The gods forbid else. So now they come. Drum and colors. Enter Bertram, Parolus, and the whole army. That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son. That, Escalis. Which is the Frenchman? He, that with the plume, tis a most gallant fellow.

I would he loved his wife. If he were honester, he were much goodlier. It's not a handsome gentleman. I like him well. Tis pity he is not honest. Yon's that same knave that leads him to these places. Were I his lady, I would poison that vile rascal. Which is he?

That jack-in-ape's with scarfs. Why is he melancholy? Perchance he's hurt to the battle. Lose our drum? Well! He's shrewdly vexed at something. Look, he espied us. Mary, hang you!

And your courtesy for a ring-carrier. and bertram parolus and army the troop is passed come pilgrim i will bring you where you shall host of enjoined penitence there's four or five to great st jack was bound already at my house i humbly thank you please it this matron and this gentle maid to eat with us to-night the charge and thanking shall be for me and to requite you further i will bestow some precepts of this virgin worthy the note we'll take your offer kindly Excent Scene 6 Camp before Florence Enter Bertram and the two French lords Nay good my lord

Put him to it, let him have his way If your lord should find him not a hilding Hold me no more in your respect On my life, my lord, a bubble Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge Without any malice but to speak of him as 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. It were fit you knew him, lest reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business, in a main danger, fail you. I would I knew in what particular action to try him? None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently, take to do? I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him. Such I will have, whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy. We will bind and hoodwick him so that he shall suppose no other, but that he is carried into the leagre 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 in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum, he says he has a stratagem for it, when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in it, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted.

If you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. here he comes enter parolus aside to bertram oh for the love of laughter hinder not the honour of his design let him fetch off his drum in any hand how now monsieur this drum sticks sorely in your disposition a pox on it let it go tis but a drum but a drum is but a drum a drum a drum so lost ha there was an excellent command to charge in with our horse upon our own wings and to rend our own soldiers that was not to be blamed in the command of the service it was a disaster of war that caesar himself could not have prevented if he had been there to command well we cannot greatly condemn our success some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum but it is not to be recovered it might have been recovered it might but it's not now it is to be be recovered, but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum, or another, or hick, jacket.

Why, if you have a stomach to it, monsieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on. I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit. If you speed well in it, The Duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. But you must not now slumber in it. I'll about it this evening, and I will presently pan down my dilemmas,

encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my moral preparation, and by midnight look to hear further from me. may i be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it i know not what the success will be my lord but the attempt i vow i know thou art valiant and to the possibility of thy soldier-ship will subscribe for thee farewell i love not many words exit 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 dams himself to do and dares better to be damned than to do it 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 weak escape a great deal of discoveries but when you find him out you have him ever after why do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto none in the world but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies but we have almost embossed him you shall see his fall to-night for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect we'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him he was first smoked by the old lord la foe when his disguise and he is parted tell me what a sprat you shall find him which you shall see this very night i must go look my twigs he shall be caught your brother he shall go along with me asked please your lordship i'll leave you exit now will i lead you to the house and show you the lass i spoke of

But you say she's honest. That's all the fault. I spoke with her at once and found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her, by the same coxcomb that we have in the wind, tokens and letters, which she did resend. And this is all I've done. She's a fair creature. Will you go see her?

With all my heart, my lord. Excent. Scene 7. Florence, the widow's house. Enter Helena and widow. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further, but I shall lose the grounds I work upon. Though my estate be fallen, I was well-born. Nothing acquainted with these businesses.

Would not put reputation now in any staining act. Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust. The Count he is my husband. And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken is so from word to word? and then you cannot, by the good aid that I of you shall borrow, err in bestowing it. I should believe you, for you have showed me that which well approves. Your great in fortune.

Take this purse of gold, and let me buy your friendly help thus far, which I will overpay, and pay again when I have found it. The Count, he woo's your daughter, lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, resolved to carry her. Let her in fine consent, as will direct her how tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will not deny that she'll demand. A ring the county wears, that downward hath succeeded in his house from son to son, some four or five descents from the first father wore it.

This ring he holds in most rich choice, yet in his idle fire to buy his will it would not seem too dear, how ere repented after. Now I see the bottom of your purpose. You see it lawful, then, it is no more but that your daughter, ere she seems as one, desires this ring, appoints him an encounter. In fine, delivers me to fill the time, herself most chastly absent. After this, to marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns to what is passed already. I have yielded. Instruct my daughter, how she shall persevere.

that time and place with this deceit so lawful may prove coherent every night he comes with musics of all sorts and songs composed to her unworthiness it nothing steads us to chide him from our eaves for he persists as if his life lay on't why then to-night let us assay our plot which of its speed is wicked meaning in a lawful deed and lawful meaning in a lawful act where both not sin and yet a sinful fact, but let's about it. Excent. End of Act 3. Act 4 of All's Well That Ends Well. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Act 4 of All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare. Scene 1 without the florentine camp enter second french lord with five or six other soldiers in ambush he can come no other way but by this hedge-corner when you sally upon him speak what terrible language you will though you understand it not yourselves no matter for we must not seem to understand him unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter good captain let me be the interpreter art not acquainted with him knows he not thy voice No, sir, I warrant you. But what Lindsay Woolsey hast thou to speak to us again? Even such as you speak to me?

He must think us some band of strangers of the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages. Therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another. So we seem to know is to know straight our purpose. Chuff's language, gabble enough and good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! Here he comes to begin.

guile two hours and asleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. Enter Perales. Ten o'clock. Within these three hours, it will be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plause of invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me, and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too fool. hearty. But my heart hath the fear of Mars before at end of this creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. This is the first truth that ere thine tongue was guilty of.

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 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? Tong, I must put you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another of Badgesette's mule if you prattle me into these perils. Is it possible?

He should know what he is, and be that he is? I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking. of my Spanish sword? We cannot afford you so. Or the bearing of my beard and to say it was in stratagem. It would not do. Or to drown my clothes and say

I was stripped. Hardly serve. Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel. How deep? Thirty fathom. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. I would. I had any drum

of the enemies. I would swear I recovered it. You shall hear one Non. Oh, a drum now of the enemy's alarm within. Throka Moloosus, cargo, cargo, cargo, cargo. Cargo, cargo! Oh, ransom! Ransom!

Do not hide my eyes! They seize and blindfold him. Boscos chummel to Boscos. I know you are the Muscos regiment, and I shall lose my life for want of language. if there be here german or dane low dutch italian or french let him speak to me i'll discover that which shall undo the florentile bosco's for vedder i understand thee and can speak thy tongue karely bontosa betake thee to thy fate for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom oh pray pray pray Manca Rivania Dulce. Ask or be Dolce's val of orca.

The generalist content to spare thee yet. And who doing it as thou art will lead thee on? Together from thee, happily thou mayst inform something to save thy life. Oh, let me live, and all the secrets of our camp I'll show. Their force, their purposes, and nay, I'll speak that which you will wonder at. But will thou faithfully. If I do not, damn me.

Accordalinta. Come on, thou art granted space. Exit with parolees guarded. A short alarm within. Go, tell the Count Rosilion and my brother. We have caught the woodcock, and we'll keep him muffled till we do hear from them. Captain, I will. I will betray us all unto ourselves.

Inform on that. So I will, sir. Till then, I'll keep him dark and safely locked. Excent Scene 2 Florence The widow's house Enter Bertram and Diana

They told me that your name was Fonte Bell No my good lord Diana Titled goddess And worth it With addition But, fair soul

In your fine frame Have love no quality If the quick fire of youth Light not your mind You are no Maiden, but a monument. When you were 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.

She then was honest. So should you be. No, my mother did but duty, such, my lord, as you owe to your wife. No more of that. I prudely do not strive against my vows. I was compelled to her, but... I love thee by love's own sweet constraint, and will forever do thee all rights of service. Aye, so you serve us till we serve you, but when you have our roses you barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves and mock us with our bareness.

How have I sworn? 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 highest to witness. Then pray you tell me, If I should swear by God's great attributes I loved you dearly, Would you believe my oaths when I did love you ill? This has no holding to swear by him whom I protest to love That I will work against him.

Therefore your oaths are words and poor conditions, But unsealed, at least in my opinion. Change it, change it! Be not so holy cruel. Love is holy. And my integrity ne'er knew the cause. crafts that you do charge men with. Stand no more off, but give thyself unto my sick desires, who then recovers? Say thou art mine, and ever my love as it begins, shall so persever.

I see that men make ropes in such a scar that will forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power to give it from me. Will you not, my lord? It is an honour longing to our house bequeathed down from many ancestors, which were the greatest obloquy in the world in me to lose. Mine honour's such a ring. My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors, which were the greatest obloquy of the world in me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom brings in the champion honour on my part against your vain assault.

Here. Take my ring. My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine. And I'll be bid by thee. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window, I'll order take my mother shall not hear. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, when you have conquered my yet made in 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 may token 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. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. Exit. 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 oaths. He had sworn to marry me when his wife's dead. Therefore I'll lie with him when I am Beriad. since frenchmen are so braid marry that will i live and die a maid only in this disguise i think'd no sin to cousin him that would unjustly win exit scene three the florentine camp enter the two french lords and some two or three soldiers you have not given him his mother's letter i have delivered it an hour since there is something in't that stings his nature for on the reading it he changed almost into another man. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.

Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. When you have spoken it, tis dead, and I am the grave of it. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown, and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. Now, God delay our rebellion, as we are ourselves. What things are we?

Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his preroy, in his proper stream or flows himself. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? Not till after midnight, for he is dieted to his hour. That approaches apace.

I would gladly have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. We will not meddle with him till he come, for his presence must be the whip of the other. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? I hear there is an overture of peace. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. What will Count Rousselian do then?

Will he travel higher or return again into friends? I perceive by this demand you are not altogether of his counsel. Let it be forbid, sir. So should I be a great deal of his act. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house. Her pretense is a pilgrimage to Saint Jacques Legrand, with holy undertaking, with most austere sanctimony she accomplished, and there, residing the tenderness of her nature became as prey to her grief, in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. How is this justified? 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 to say is come was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place hath the count all this intelligence Aye, and the particular confirmations, point from point, so to the full arming of the verity.

I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! 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 with a shame as ample. 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. Enter a messenger. How now? Where's your master? He met the Duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave. His lordship will

next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendation to the king. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now. Enter Bertram. How now, my lord, is it not after midnight? I have, tonight, dispatched 16 businesses, a month's length apiece. By an abstract of success, I have, conjayed with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest, buried a wife, mourned for her, rich to my lady-mother I am returning, entertained my convoy, and, between these main parcels of dispatches, affected many nicer needs the last was the greatest but that I have not ended yet if the

business be of any difficulty and this morning your departure hence it requires haste of your lordship I mean the business is not ended as fearing to hear of it hereafter but shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier come bring forth this counterfeard module he has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier bring him forth has sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. No matter. His heels have deserved it in usurping his spurs so long.

How does he carry himself? 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 her milk. He have confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting of the stocks. And what think you he have confessed?

Nothing of me, has he? His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face. If your lordship be in, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to bear it. Enter Parolus Guardet and First Soldier. A plague upon him! Huffled! He can say nothing of me. Hush! Hush! Hodman comes. Port to Tatarossa. He calls for the tortures.

What do you say without them? I will confess what I know without constraint, if you pinch me like a parrot. I can say no more. Bosco Simmarco. You are a merciful general. Our general beats you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. Head truly, as I hope to live. Reeds.

First demand of him how many haws the Duke is strong. What say you to that? Five or six thousand, but very weak and unserviceable. the troops are all scattered and the commander's very poor rogues upon my reputation and credit and as i hope to live shall i said down your answer so do i'll take the sacrament on it how and which way you will all's one to him what a past saving slave is this you're deceived my lord this is monsieur parol's the gallant militarist that was his own phrase that had the whole the rhetoric of war in the knot of his scarf and the practice in the shape of his dagger. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean, nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly. Well, that is said down.

Five or six thousand horse, I said. I will say true, or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. He's very near the truth in this. But I caught him no thanks for it in the nature he delivers it. Poor rogues, I pray you say. Well, that's set down. I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth.

The rogues are marvelous, poor. Reeds. Demand of him, of what strength they are afoot. What say you to that? By my truth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see. Spurio, 150. Sebastian, so many.

Corambus so many Echewis so many Guilthian Cosmo Lottowick and Gratiae 250 each My loan company Critifer Vomond Bentiai

250 each So that the muster file Rotten and sound upon my life amounts not to 15,000 pole Have the which dare not shake snow from out their cassocks lest they shake themselves to pieces What shall be done to him

Nothing but let him have thanks Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the Duke. Well, that's set down. Reads. You shall demand of him whether one Captain Dumeen be in the camp, a Frenchman. What his reputation is with the Duke, what his valor, honesty, and expertness in wars, and whether he thinks it were not possible with well-weighing sums of gold to corrupt him to revolt. what say you do this? What do you know of it?

I beseech you. Let me answer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them singly. Do you know this Captain Dumae? I know him. It was a butcher's prentice in Paris. From whence he was whipped for getting the shrieves fool with child, a dumb, innocent that could not say him nay. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands. Though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.

Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp? Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. Nay, look not so upon me. We shall hear of your lordship anon. What is his reputation with the Duke? The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine, and writ to me this other day to turn him out of the band. I think I have his letter in my pocket.

Mary, we will search. In good sadness, I do not know. either it is there or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent. Here it is. Here is a paper. Shall I read it to you? I do not know if it be or no. Our interpreter does it well.

Excellent. Reads. Diane. The Count is a fool and a fool of gold. That is not the Duke's letter, sir. That is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Resilion, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish, I pray you, sir, put it up again.

Nay, I'll read it first by your favour. My meaning in it, 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 wail to virginity and devours up all the fry it finds. Dames, both sides rogue! Reeds When he swears oaths, beat him drop gold and take it.

After his scores, he never pays the score. Half won his match well made. Match, and will make it. He never pays after deaths. Take it before. And say a soldier, Dion, told thee this. Men are to mail it, boys are not to kiss. For count of this, the count is a fool I know it.

Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. thine as he vowed to thee in thine year perilous he shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in his forehead this is your devoted friend sir the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier i could endure anything before but a cat and now he's a cat to me i perceive sir by the general's luxe we shall we fain to hang you my life sir in any case and not that i'm afraid to die but that my offences being many I would repent out the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon in the stocks, or anywhere so I may live. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely. Therefore, once more to this captain Domain, you have answered to his reputation with the Duke and to his valor.

What is his honesty? He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister. For rapes and ravishments, he parallels now. he professes not keeping of oaths and breaking them he is stronger than hercules he will lie sir with such volubility that you will think truth were a fool drunkenness is his best virtue for he will be swine drunk and in his sleep he does little harm and save to his bedclothes about him but they know his conditions 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 i begin to love him for this for this description of thine honesty a pox upon him for me he's more and more a cat what say you to his expertness in war faith sir he has led the drum before the english tradients to belie him i will not and more of his soldiership i know not except in that country he had the honor to be the officer at a place there called mile end to instruct for the doubling of files i would do the man what honor i can but of this i am not certain he hath outvillined villainy so far that the rarity redeems him

parks on him he's a cat still his qualities being at this poor price i need not to ask you if gold had carved him to revolt sir for a quartet cue he will sell the fees and of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. What's his brother to order Captain to Maine? Why does he ask him of me? What is he? In a crow with the same nest, not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil, he exceeds his brother for a coward, yet his brother is

reputed one of the best it is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey. Mary, in coming on, he has the cramp. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? I am the captain of his horse, Count Vasilian. I will whisper the general and know his pleasure. Aside. No more drumming! A plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the Count have I run into this danger, yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? There is no remedy, sir, but you must die.

The general says, you that have so treacherously discovered the secrets of your army and made such pastiferous reports of man very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use. Therefore, you must die. Come, heads man, off with his head. sir let me live or let me see my death that shall you and take your leave of all your friends unblinding him so look about you know you any here good-morrow noble captain god bless you captain parolus god save you noble captain captain captain captain what greeting will you to my lord lafue i am for france good captain will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to diana in behalf of the count russalon and i were not a very coward ill-compellate of you but fare you well ex aunt bertram and lords

you are undone captain all but your scarf that has not aunt yet who cannot be crushed with a plot if you could find out a country where but women where that had received so much shame you might begin an impudent nation. Very well, sir. I am for friends, too. We shall speak of you, dear. Exit with soldiers. Ah, yet I am thankful. If my heart were great, twould burst at this. Captain, I'll be no more, but I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft as Captain shall. Simply the thing I am shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggard, like. Let him fear this, for it will come to pass that every braggart shall be found in ass.

Rust, sword, cool, blushes, and paroleists live safest in shame. Being fooled by foolery thrive. There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. Exit. Scene four. Florence, the widow's house. Enter Helena, widow.

And Diana. That you may well perceive I have not wronged you, one of the greatest in the Christian world shall be my surety, for whose throne tis needful ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. Time was I did him a desired office, dear almost as his life, which gratitude through flinty tartar's bosom would peep forth, and answer, thanks. I duly am informed his graces at Marseilles, to which place we have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead, the army breaking my husband hies him home, where heaven

aiding and by the leave of my good lord the king will be before our welcome. Gentle madam, you never had a servant to whose trust your business was more welcome. Nor you, mistress, ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour to recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, as it hath fated her to be my motive and helper to a husband. But, oh, strange men, that can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cousin'd thoughts defiles the pitchy knight, So lust doth play with what it loathes for that which is away.

But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, under my poor instructions, yet must suffer something in my behalf. Let death and honesty go with your imposition's. I am yours upon your will to suffer. Yet I pray you, but with the word 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 us.

All's well that ends well, still the find's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. Exempt Scene 5. Rossilion, the Count's Palace. Enter Countess Lafew. and clown. No, no, no.

Your son was misled with a snipped taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king than by that red-tailed heart. Humbleby I speak of. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praised for creating.

If she had partaken of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. T'was a good lady, t'was a good lady. We may pick a thousand salads There we light on such another herb Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad

Or rather the herb of grace They are not herbs, you knave, they are nose herbs. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grass, Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool? A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. Your distinction? I would cousin the man of his wife, and do his service. So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

And I would give his wife my bobble, sir, to do her. her service i will subscribe for thee thou art both knave and fool at your service no no no why sir if i cannot serve you i can serve as great a prince as you are who's that a frenchman fateser has an english name but his fizzini is more hotter in france than here What prince is that? The black prince, sir. Alias, the prince of darkness. Alias the devil. Hold thee, there's my purse.

I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of. Serve him still. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire. And the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. but sure he is the prince of the world let his nobility remain in his court i am for the house with the narrow gate which i take to be too little for pomp to enter some that humble themselves may but the many will be too chill and tender and they'll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire go thy ways i begin to be weary of thee and i tell thee so before because i would not fall out with thee go thy ways let my horses be well looked to without any tricks if i put any tricks upon them sir they shall be jade's tricks which are their own right by the law of nature

exit a shrewd knave and an unhappy so he is my lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him by his authority he remains here which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness and indeed he has no pace but runs where he will i like him well tis not a miss and i was about to tell you since i heard of the good lady's death and that my lord your son was upon his return home i moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter which in the minority of them both his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose. His highness hath promised me to do it, and to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily affected. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty.

He will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night. I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together. madam i was thinking with what manners i might safely be admitted you need but plead your honourable privilege lady of that i have made a bold charter but i thank my god it holds yet re-enter clown oh madam yanders my lord your son with a patch of velvet un's face whether there be a skirm scar under't or no the velvet knows but tis a goodly patch of velvet his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half but his right cheek is worn bare a scar nobly got or a noble scar is a good livery of honour so belike is that but it is your carbonadoed face let us go see your son

I pray you. I long to talk with the young noble soldier. Faith, there's a dozen of them, with delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. Exempt. End of Act 4. Act 5 of All's Well That Ends Well. This is a Liprovoc's recording. All Liprovoc's recordings are in the public domain.

for more information or to volunteer please visit lipprevox dot org act five of all's well that ends well by william shakespeare scene one marseilles a street enter helena widow and diana with true attendance ah but this exceeding posting day and night must wear your spirits low we cannot help it but since you have made the days and nights as one to wear your gentle limbs in my affairs Be bold you do so grow in my requital as nothing can en route you. In happy time. Enter a gentleman. This man may help me to his majesty's ear if he would spend his power. God save you, sir. And you?

Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. I have been sometimes there. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen from the report that goes upon your goodness, and therefore goaded with most sharp occasions which lay nice manners by. I put you to the use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful. What's your will? That it will please you to give this poor petition to the king, and aid me with that store of power you have to come into his presence.

The king's not here. Not here, sir. Not, indeed. He hence removed last night, and with more haste than is his use. Lord, how we lose our pains! All's well that ends well yet, though time seems so adverse and means unfit, I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Mary, as I take it to Resilion, where I am going. I do beseech you, sir, since you are like to see the king before me, commend the paper to his gracious hand, which I presume shall render you no blame, but rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed our means will make us means. This I'll do for you. And you shall find yourself to be well thanked,

what air falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide. Excent. Scene two. Rossilion. Before the Count's Palace. Enter clown and paroleus following.

Ah, good, Monsieur Lavache. Give my lord the few this letter. I have here now, sir, been better known to you when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes. But I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood and smell so but strong of her strong

displeasure. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but slutty if it smells so strongly as thou speakst of. I will henceforth eat no fish of fortunes buttering. Pretty

allow the wind. You need not to stop your nose, sir. I speak but by a metaphor. Indeed, sir. If your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose, or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Foh, Prithee, stand away. A paper from Fortune's close stool to give to a nobleman. Hmm, look, here he comes himself.

And tell a few. Here is a purr of fortunes, sir, or of fortune's cat, but not a must-cat, that has fallen into the unclean fish-pond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied with all. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally. knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Exit. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched. And what would you have me to do? It is too late to pair her nails now, wherein have you played the knave with fortune that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady,

and would not have knaves thrive long under her. There's a carte de cue for you. Let the justices make you and fortune friends. I am for other business. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall hide. Save your word. My name, my good lord, is Perales. You beg more than word, then. Cogs, my passion. Give me your hand. How does your drum? Oh, my good lord, you were the first that found me. Was I in sooth? And I was the first, that lost thee.

It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. Out upon thee knave. Dost thou put upon me at once, both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. Trumpets sound. The king's coming, I know by his trumpets. sirrah inquire further after me i had talk of you last night though you are a fool and a knave you shall eat go too follow i praise god for you exceint scene three rosilion the count's palace flourish enter king countess lafew the two french lords with attendants

we lost a jewel of her and our esteem was made much poorer by it but your son as mad in folly lacked the sense to know her estimation home tis past my liege and i beseech your man to make it natural rebellion done in the blaze of youth when oil and fire too strong for reasons for so bears it and burns on my honoured lady i have forgiven and forgotten all though my revengers were high bent upon him and watched the time to shoot this i must say but first i beg my pardon the young lord did to his majesty his mother and his lady, offence of mighty note, but to himself the greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife whose beauty did astonish the survey of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, whose dear perfection hearts that scorned to serve humbly called mistrust. "'Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear. "'Well, call him hither.

"'We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill all repetition. "'Let him not ask our pardon. "'The nature of his great offence is dead, "'and deeper than oblivion do we bury the incensing relics of it. "'Let him approach, a stranger, no offender, "'and inform him, so tis our will he should. I shall, my liege. Exit.

What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke? All that he is hath reference to your highness. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me that set him high in fame. Enter Bertram. I am not a day of season, for thou mayst see a sunshine and the hail in me at once,

but to the brightest beams, distracted clouds give way. So stand thou forth, the time is fair again. My high-repented blames, dear sovereign, pardon to me. All is whole, not one word more of the consummate time. Let's take the instant by the forward top, for we are old, and on our quickest degrees the inaudible and noiseless foot of time steals air we can effect them. You remember the daughter of this lord?" admiringly my liege at first i stuck my choice upon her ere my heart durst make too bold a herald of my tongue where the impression of mine eye in fixing contempt his scornful perspective did lend me which warped the line of every other favour

scorned a fair colour or expressed it stolen extended or contracted all proportions to a most hideous object thence it came that she whom all men praised and whom myself since i have lost have loved was in mine eye the dust that did offend it well excused that thou didst love her strikes some scores away from the great comte but love her strikes some scores away from the great comte but love that comes too late, like a remorseful pardon slowly carried to the great sender turns a sour offence, crying, That's good, that's gone. Our rush faults make trivial price of serious things we have, not knowing them until we know their grave. Often our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, destroy our friends, and after weep their dust. Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done, while shame, full lay. sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her, send forth your amorous

token for fair Mordland, the main consents 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 says. Come on, my son, in whom my house is name. must be digested. Give a favour from you to sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, that she may quickly come. Bertram gives a ring. By my old beard, and every hair that's on't, Helen that's dead, was a sweet creature. Such a ring as this, the last that ere I took her at court, I saw upon her finger. Hers it was not.

Now pray you, let me see it. For mine eye, whilst I was speaking, oft was fastened toot. This ring was mine. And when I gave it Helen, I bade her. If her fortunes ever stood necessitated to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her of what should stead her most? My gracious sovereign, however it pleases you to take it so, the ring was never hers.

Son, on my life I have seen her wear it, and she reckoned it at her life's rate. I am sure I saw her wear it. You are deceived, my lord, she never saw it. In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, wrapped in a paper which contained the name of her that threw it. "'Nobble she was, and thought I stood engaged, "'but when I had subscribed to mine own fortune and informed her fully, "'I could not answer in that course of honour as she had made the overture. "'She ceased in heavy satisfaction,

"'and would never receive the ring again. "'Plutus himself, that knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, "'hath not in nature's mystery more science than I have in this ring. "'Twas mine. "'Twas Helens, whoever gave it you. then if you know that you are well acquainted with yourself confessed was hers and by what rough enforcement you got it from her she called the saints to surety that she would never put it from her finger unless she gave it to yourself in bed where you have never come or sent it us upon her great disaster she never saw it thou speak'st it falsely as i love mine honour and makes conjectural fears to come into me which i would fain shut out if it should prove that thou art so inhuman

twill not prove so yet i know not thou didst hate her deadly and she is dead which nothing but to close her eyes myself could win me to believe more than to see this ring take her way guards seize bertram my fore-past proofs howe'er the matter fall shall tax my fears of little vanity having vainly feared too little away with him we'll sift this matter further 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 i am rapt in dismal thinkings enter a gentleman gracious sovereign whether i have been to blame or no i know not here's a petition from a florentine who hath for four or five removes come short to tender it herself i undertook it vanquished thereto by the fair grace and speech of the poor suppliant who by this i know is here attending her business looks in her with an importing visage and she told me in a sweet verbal brief it did concern your highness with herself reads upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead i blush to say it he won me now is the count rousin a widower his vows are forfeited to me and my honours paid to him he stole from florence taking no leave and i follow him to his country for justice grant it me o king he knew it best lies otherwise a seducer flourishes and a poor maid is undone diana

i will buy me a son-in-law in a fair and toll for this i'll none of him the heavens have thought well on thee la fur to bring forth this discovery seek these suitors go speed and bring again the count. I am a fear of the life of Helen, lady, was foully snatched. No justice on the doers. Re-enter Bertram, Guarded. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, and that you fly them as you swear them lordship, yet you desire to marry.

Enter widow and Diana. What owns that? I am, my lord, a wretched, Florentine, derived from the ancient Capulet, my suit as I do understand you know, and therefore know how far I may be pitied. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour both suffer under this complaint we bring, and both shall cease without your remedy. Come hither, Count, do you know these women? My lord, I neither can nor will deny but that I know them. Do they charge me further? Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

She's none of mine, my lord? If you shall marry, you give away this hand and that is mine. You give away heaven's vows and those are mine. You give away myself which is known mine, for I by vow am so embodied yours that she which marries you must marry me either both or none. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter. Sir, you are no husband for her.

My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, whom some time I have laughed with. Let Your Highness lay a more noble thought upon mine honour, and for to think that I would sink it here. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend till your deeds gain them. Fairer prove your honour than in my thought it lies. Good, my lord, ask him upon his oath if he does think he had not my virginity. What say'st thou to her?

She's impudent, my lord, and was a common gamester to the camp. He does me wrong, my lord. If I were so, he might have bought me at a common price. Do not believe him. O behold, this ring, whose high respect and rich validity did lack a parallel. Yet for all that he gave it to a commoner of the camp, if I was a man. I be one. He blushes, and tis it? Of six preceding ancestors, that gem conferred by testament to the sequent issue, has it been owed and worn. This is his wife. That rings a thousand proofs. Methought you said you saw one here in court could witness it.

I did, my lord, but loath am to produce so bad an instrument, his name's Parolus. I saw the man today, if man he be. Find him and bring him hither. Exit and attendant. What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave with all the spots of the world taxed and debauched, whose nature sicken's but to speak a truth. Am I that or this for what he'll utter that will speak anything?

She hath that ring of yours? I think she has. Certain it is. I liked her. and boarded her in the wanton way of youth. She knew her distance and did angle for me, madding my eagerness with her restraint, as all impediments in fancy's course are motives of more fancy,

and in fine, her infinite cunning with her modern grace subdued me to her rate. She got the ring, and I had that which any inferior might at market-place have bought. I must be patient. You that have turned off a first so noble wife may justly die at me. I pray you yet. Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband. Send for your ring.

I will return at home and give me mine again. I have it not. What ring was yours, I pray you? Sir, much like the same upon your finger. Know you this ring? This ring was his of late. And this was it I gave him, being a bed. The story then goes false. You threw it him out of a casement.

I have spoke the truth. Interparallus. My lord, I do confess. The ring was hers. You boggle shrewdly. Every feather stars you. Is this the man you speak of? I, my lord. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge.

you, not fearing the displeasure of your master, which on your just proceeding I'll keep off. By him and by this woman here, what know you? So please, your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman. Tricks he had in him, which gentlemen have. Come, come, to the purpose. Did he love this woman? Faith, sir, he did love her, but how? How, I pray you. He did love her, sir.

as a gentleman loves a woman. How is that? He loved her, sir, and loved her not. As thou art a knave and no knave, what an equivocal companion is this. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. Do you know he promised me marriage? Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest? Yes. please, Your Majesty. I did go between them, as I said, but more than that, he loved her, for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what. Yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed and of other motions, as promising her marriage and things which would derive me ill-will to speak of. therefore I will not speak what I know. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married,

but thou art too fine in thy evidence, therefore stand aside. This ring you say was yours. I, my good lord. Where did you buy it, or who gave it you? It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. Who lent it you? It was not lent me neither. Where did you find it then?

I found it not. If it were yours by none of all these ways, how could you give it him? I never gave it him. This woman's an easy glove, my lord. She goes off and on at pleasure. This ring was mine. I gave it his first wife. It might be yours or hers for aught I know. 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 the hour. I'll never tell you. Take her away. I'll put in bail my liege. I think thee now some common customer. By Jove, if ever I knew man twas you. Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?

Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty. He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to it. 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. She does abuse our ears to prison with her. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal, sir.

Exid widow. The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, and he shall surety me. But for this lord who hath abused me, as he knows himself, though yet he never harmed me, here I quit him. He knows himself my bed he hath defiled, and at that time he got his wife with childs.

Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick, So there is my riddle. One that's dead is quick. And now behold the meaning. Re-enter widow with Helena. Is there no exorcist beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is it real that I see? No, my good lord.

Tis but a shadow of a wife you see, the name and not the thing. Both. Both. Oh, pardon. O my good lord, when I was like this maid I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring. And look you, here's your letter.

This it says, when from my finger you can get this ring and you are by me with child, etc. This is done. Will you be mine? Now you are doubly one. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever, dearly. If it appear not plain and prove untrue, deadly divorce step between me and you. Oh, my dear mother, do I see you living?

Oh, mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon. To Perales. good tom drum lend me a handkercher so i thank thee wait on me home i'll make sport with thee let thy courtes alone they are scurvy ones let us from point to point this story know to make the even truth in pleasure flow to diana if thou be'st yet a fresh uncrop "'Chose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dour, "'for I can guess that by thy honest aid, "'thou keeps to wife herself, thyself a maid. "'Of that and all the progress, more or less,

"'resolvedly, more leisure shall express. "'All yet seems well, and if it end, "'so meet the bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.' "'Flourish.' "'The kings are beggar, now the play is done, All is well ended. If this suit be one that you express content, which we will pay with strife to please you,

day exceeding day, ours be your patience then, and yours are parts. Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. Excent. End of Act 5. End of All's Well, That Ends Well, by William Shakespeare.