All's Well That Ends Well (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne
330woman.
¶Ste Maddam the care I haue had to euen your con-
¶endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make
335we publish them.
¶Coun What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone
¶sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all be-
¶lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough
340to make such knaueries yours.
¶Clo 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore
¶fellow.
¶Clo No maddam,
345'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie
¶of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships
¶good will to goe to the world, Isbellthe woman and w
¶will doe as we may.
¶Coun Wilt thou needes be a begger?
355sings.
¶Clo My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen
¶driues.
¶they are.
¶Cou May the world know them?
¶Clo I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
365and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
¶I may repent.
¶Clo I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue
¶friends for my wiues sake.
370Cou Such friends are thine enemies knaue.
¶knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:
¶he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee
¶leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my
375drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of
¶friend: if men could be contented to be what they are,
380there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbonthe
¶hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,
¶they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd.
¶Cou Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calum-
385nious knaue?
¶next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full
¶Cuckow sings by kinde.
¶come to you, of her I am to speake.
¶her, HellenI meane.
¶Why the Grecians sacked Troy
¶Fond done, done, fond was this King Priamsioy,
¶And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be
400good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one
¶good in ten.
¶sirra.
¶Clo One good woman in ten Madam, which is a pu-
¶all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman
¶if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might
¶haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,
¶or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a
410man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one.
¶you?
¶yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet
415it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie
¶ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am go-
¶
Exit
¶Cou Well now.
420Stew I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman
¶intirely.
¶Cou Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,
¶lie make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is
425more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid
¶her then sheele demand.
¶Stew Madam, I was verie late more neere her then
¶communicate to her selfe her owne words to her
430owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they
¶estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might
435onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Vir-
¶sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held
¶to know it.
¶to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this
445before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that
¶I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you
¶ther anon.
Exit Steward
450
Enter Hellen
¶If euer vve are natures, these are ours, this thorne
¶Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong
¶Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,
¶By our remembrances of daies forgon,
¶Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,
¶Ol. Cou You know HellenI am a mother to you.
¶Ol. Cou Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
¶ sed a mother
¶And put you in the Catalogue of those
¶That were enwombed mine, 'tis often seene
¶You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,
¶(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood
¶To say I am thy mother? vvhat's the matter,
¶The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye?
¶------ Why, that you are my daughter?
¶Hell That I am not.
480Hell Pardon Madam.
¶The Count Rosillioncannot be my brother:
¶I am from humble, he from honored name:
¶No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,
¶My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I
¶He must not be my brother.
¶Ol.Cou Nor I your Mother.
¶Hell You are my mother Madam, would you were
¶So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,
490Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,
¶I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
¶But I your daughter, he must be my brother.
¶Old.Cou Yes Hellen you might be my daughter in law,
495God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother
¶But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
¶If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
510If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
¶As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
¶To tell me truelie.
¶Hell Good Madam pardon me.
¶Cou Do you loue my Sonne?
¶Cou Loue you my Sonne?
¶Hell Doe not you loue him Madam?
¶Cou Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond
¶Haue to the full appeach'd.
¶Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,
¶That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
525 Sonne:
¶Be not offended, for it hurts not him
¶That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not
530Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,
¶Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.
¶I still poure in the waters of my loue
¶Religious in mine error, I adore
¶The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,
¶But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,
¶Let not your hate incounter with my loue,
540For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,
¶Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,
¶Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,
¶Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie
550To goe to Paris
¶Hell Madam I had.
¶Cou Wherefore? tell true.
555Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading
¶And manifest experience, had collected
¶For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me
¶There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,
¶The King is render'd lost.
¶Else Paris and the medicine, and the King,
¶Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
¶Happily beene absent then.
¶Cou But thinke you Hellen
¶He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
¶Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
¶They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
¶A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
575Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
¶The danger to it selfe.
580Shall for my legacie be sanctified
¶The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
¶By such a day, an houre.
¶Hell I Madam knowingly.
¶Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
¶Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,
Exeunt
