Alls Well That Ends Well | Page 6

place;
And bow'd 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,
follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.
BERTRAM.
His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your
thoughts than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph
As in
your royal speech.
KING.
Would I were with him! He would always say,--
Methinks I
hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd 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 heel 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 constancies
Expire before their fashions:'--This he
wish'd:
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 labourers room.
SECOND LORD.
You're lov'd, sir;

They that least lend it you shall
lack you first.
KING.
I fill a place, I know't.--How long is't, Count,
Since the
physician at your father's died?
He was much fam'd.

BERTRAM.
Some six months since, my lord.
KING.
If he were living, I would try him yet;--
Lend me an
arm;--the rest have worn me out
With several applications:--nature
and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's
no dearer.
BERTRAM.
Thank your majesty.
[Exeunt. Flourish.]
SCENE 3. Rousillon. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWN.]
COUNTESS.
I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman?
STEWARD.
Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I
wish
might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then
we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings,
when of ourselves we publish them.
COUNTESS.
What does this knave here? 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 knaveries yours.
CLOWN.
'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.
COUNTESS.
Well, sir.
CLOWN.
No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of

the rich are damned: but if I may have your ladyship's good will to
go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
COUNTESS.
Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

CLOWN.
I do beg your good will in this case.
COUNTESS.
In what case?
CLOWN.
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 are blessings.
COUNTESS.
Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
CLOWN.
My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the

flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.
COUNTESS.
Is this all your worship's reason?
CLOWN.
Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
COUNTESS.
May the world know them?
CLOWN.
I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all
flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent.
COUNTESS.
Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.
CLOWN.
I am out of friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for

my wife's sake.
COUNTESS.
Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
CLOWN.
Y'are 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 cuckold,
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 Charbon the puritan and

old Poysam the
papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion,
their heads are both one; they may joll horns together like any deer i'
the herd.
COUNTESS.
Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious
knave?
CLOWN.
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.
COUNTESS.
Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.
STEWARD.
May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to
you; of her I am to speak.
COUNTESS.
Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her;
Helen I mean.
CLOWN.
[Sings.]
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