Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. SCENE: Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles. All's Well that Ends Well, ACT FIRST. Scene I. Rousillon. The Count's palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second Ber. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, O, that had'! how sad a passage 'tis !—whose ΙΟ 20 skill was almost as great as his honesty; had Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? it was his great right to be so,-Gerard de Laf. A fistula, my lord. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which 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. 30 40 Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her 50 tears. Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. Laf. How understand we that? 70 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father Laf. 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit. Ber. [to Helena] The best wishes that can be forged 80 in your thoughts be servants to you! Be com- Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu. Hel. O, were that all! I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more 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 reliques. Who comes here? Enter Parolles. 90 100 [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 fix'd evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones IIO Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see Par. Save you, fair queen! |