ALL'S Well, that ENDS Well.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Countess of Roufillon's House in France. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Roufillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in Mourning.

COUNTESS.

N diffevering my son from me, I bury a second

IN

hufband.

Ber. And I in going, Madam, weep o'er my father's death anew; but I must attend his Majefty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in fubjection.

Laf. You fhall find of the King a husband, Madam; you, Sir, a father. He, that fo generally is at all times good, muft of neceffity hold his virtue to you; whofe worthinefs would flir it up where it wanted, rather than flack it where there is such abundance.

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

Laf. He hath abandon'd his physicians, Madam, under whose practices he hath perfecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process, but only the lofing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (O, that had! how fad a Prefage 'tis !) whofe fkill was almost as great as his honefty; had it ftretch'd fo far, it would have made nature immortal, and death should have play'd for lack of work. 'Would, for

I 2

the

the King's fake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the King's disease.

Laf. How call'd you the man you speak of,

Madam?

Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profeffion, and it was his great right to be fo: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, Madam; the King very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly he was skilful enough to have liv'd ftill, if knowledge could be set up againft mortality.

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

Laf. A fiftula, 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 fole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have thofe hopes of her good, that her education promifes her; difpofition fhe 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 her fimpleness; she derives her honefty, and atchieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her

tears.

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praife in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her forrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; left it be rather thought you affect a forrow, than to have it.

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

Count. If the living be not enemy to the grief, the excess makes it foon mortal.

Ber.

Ber. Madam, I defire your holy wishes.
Laf. How underftand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and fucceed thy father

In manners as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birth-right! 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 check'd for filence,
But never tax'd for fpeech. What heav'n more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewel, my lord;

'Tis an unfeafon'd courtier, good my lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best,

That fhall attend his love.

Count. Heav'n blefs him! Farewel, Bertram.

[Exit Countess. Ber. [To Hel.] The beft wishes, that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be fervants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of

her.

Laf. Farewel, pretty lady, you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.

What was he like?

And these great tears grace his remembrance more, Than those I fhed for him.

I have forgot him. My imagination

Carries no favour in it, but my Bertram's.

I

am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright partic'lar ftar,
And think to wed it; he is fo above me:

In his bright radiance and collateral light
Muft I be comforted, not in his fphere.
Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself;
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague,
To fee him every hour; to fit 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.
Muft fanctify his relics. Who comes here!

Enter Parolles.

One, that goes with him: I love him for his fake,
And yet I know him a notorious liar;

Think him a great way fool, folely a coward;
Yet thefe fix'd evils fit fo fit in him,

That they take place, when virtue's feely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind; full oft we fee
Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly.

SCENE III.

Par. SAVE you, fair Queen.

Hel. And you, Monarch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay: you have some stain of foldier in you; let me afk you a queftion. Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barricado it against him?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he affails; and our virginity, tho' valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us fome warlike refiftance.

-and collateral light.] collateral for reflected, i. c. in the Radiance of his reflected Light; not in his Sphere, or direct Light. Milten uses the Word, in the fame Sense, speaking of the Son.

Of high collateral Glory.

Book 10. v. 86.

Par.

Par. There is none: man, fetting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Blefs our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up!Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourfelves made, you lofe your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preferve virginity. Lofs of virginity is rational increafe; and there was never virgin got, 'till virginity was first loft. That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once loft, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever loft; 'tis too cold a companion: away with't. Hel. I will ftand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To fpeak on the part of virginity, is to accufe your mother; which is moft infallible difobedience. As he, that hangs himself, fo is a virgin: virginity murders itself, and fhould be buried in highways out of all fanctified limit, as a desperate offendrefs against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; confumes itself to the very paring, and fo dies with feeding its own ftomach. Befides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of selflove, which is the moft prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot chufe but lofe by't. Out with't; within ten years it will make itfelf two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with't.

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

Par. Let me fee. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lofe the glofs with lying. The longer kept, the lefs worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible. Anfwer the time of requeft.