William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:

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

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 4. The same. Another room in the same.

[Enter HELENA and CLOWN.]

HELENA.

My mother greets me kindly: is she well?

CLOWN. 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 i’ the world; but yet she is not well.

HELENA.

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

CLOWN.

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

HELENA.

What two things?

CLOWN.

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

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

[Enter PAROLLES.]

PAROLLES.

Bless you, my fortunate lady!

HELENA. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.

PAROLLES. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still. O, my knave,—how does my old lady?

CLOWN. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say.

PAROLLES.

Why, I say nothing.

CLOWN. Marry, 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.

PAROLLES.

Away! thou art a knave.

CLOWN. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir.

PAROLLES.

Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee.

CLOWN.

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.

PAROLLES.

A good knave, i’ faith, and well fed.—

Madam, my lord will go away tonight:

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 compell’d restraint;

Whose want, and whose delay, is strew’d with sweets;

Which they distil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy

And pleasure drown the brim.

HELENA.

What’s his will else?

PAROLLES.

That you will take your instant leave o’ the king,

And make this haste as your own good proceeding,

Strengthen’d with what apology you think

May make it probable need.

HELENA.

What more commands he?

PAROLLES.

That, having this obtain’d, you presently

Attend his further pleasure.

HELENA.

In everything I wait upon his will.

PAROLLES.

I shall report it so.

HELENA.

I pray you.—Come, sirrah.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 5. Another room in the same.

[Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM.]

LAFEU.

But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

BERTRAM.

Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.

LAFEU.

You have it from his own deliverance.

BERTRAM.

And by other warranted testimony.

LAFEU.

Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting.

BERTRAM. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.

LAFEU. 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 PAROLLES.]

PAROLLES.

[To BERTRAM.] These things shall be done, sir.

LAFEU.

Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor?

PAROLLES.

Sir!

LAFEU. O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, is a good workman, a very good tailor.

BERTRAM.

[Aside to PAROLLES.] Is she gone to the king?

PAROLLES.

She is.

BERTRAM.

Will she away tonight?

PAROLLES.

As you’ll have her.

BERTRAM.

I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,

Given order for our horses; and tonight,

When I should take possession of the bride,

End ere I do begin.

LAFEU. 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.

BERTRAM.

Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?

PAROLLES.

I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord’s displeasure.

LAFEU. You have made shift to run into ‘t, 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.

BERTRAM.

It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.

LAFEU. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernal 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.]

PAROLLES.

An idle lord, I swear.

BERTRAM.

I think so.

PAROLLES.

Why, do you not know him?

BERTRAM.

Yes, I do know him well; and common speech

Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

[Enter HELENA.]

HELENA.

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

Spoke with the king, and have procur’d his leave

For present parting; only he desires

Some private speech with you.

BERTRAM.

I shall obey his will.

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,

Which holds not colour with the time, 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.]

‘Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so

I leave you to your wisdom.

HELENA.

Sir, I can nothing say

But that I am your most obedient servant.

BERTRAM.

Come, come, no more of that.

HELENA.

And ever shall

With true observance seek to eke out that

Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail’d

To equal my great fortune.

BERTRAM.

Let that go:

My haste is very great. Farewell; hie home.

HELENA.

Pray, sir, your pardon.

BERTRAM.

Well, what would you say?

HELENA.

I am not worthy of the wealth I owe;

Nor dare I say ‘tis mine, and yet it is;

But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal

What law does vouch mine own.

BERTRAM.

What would you have?

HELENA.

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.

BERTRAM.

I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.

HELENA.

I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.

BERTRAM.

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.

PAROLLES.

Bravely, coragio!