sumed, of a woman courted by Orlando his brother. P. 257, c. 2, 1. 52. clubs cannot part them.] It appears from many of our old dramas, that in our author's time, it was a common custom, on the breaking out of a fray, to call out "Clubs-clubs," to part the combatants. P. 258, c. 1. l. 4.. human as she is,] that is, not a phantom, but the real Rosalind, without any of the danger generally conceived to attend the rites of incantation. JOHNSON. Id. 1. 8. bid your friends;] i. e. invite your friends. Id. t. 35.--all observance ;] Probably an error, for obeisance. P. 259, c. 1, l. 20. trod a measure;] a very stately solemn dance. Id. 1. 30. God ild you, sir;] i. e. God yield you, reward you. Id. 1. 33.-- according as marriage binds, and blood breaks:] A man by the marriage ceremony, SWEARS that he will keep only to his wife; when, therefore, he leaves her for another, BLOOD BREAKS his matrimonial obligation, and he is FORSWORN. HENLEY. Id. 1. 41. dulcet diseases. ] This word is capriciously used for sayings, though neither in its primary or figurative sense it has any relation to that word. Id. 1. 45. seeming.] i. e. seemly. Seeming is often used by Shakspeare for becoming, or fairness of appearance, Id 1 65. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book:] The poet has, in this scene, rallied the mode of formal duelling, then so prevalent, with the highest humour and address: nor could he have treated it with a happier contempt, than by making his Clown so knowing in the forms and preliminaries of it. The particular book here alluded to, is a very ridiculous treatise one Vincentio Saviolo, intitled, Of Honour and Honourable Quarrels, in quarto, printed Wolf, 1594. Id. c. 2, 1. 5. Enter Hymen.] Rosalind is imagined by the rest of the company to be brought enchantment, and is therefore introduced a supposed aerial being in the characteri Hymen. Id. 1. 35. If truth holds true contents.] That if there be truth in truth, unless truth fas veracity. Id. 1. 59. P. Id. combine.] Shakspeare is licetim in his use of this verb, which here only sig to bind. 260, c. 2, 1. 3. To see no pastime, 1: &e Amidst this general festivity, the reader may be sorry to take his leave of Jaques, wh pears to have no share in it, and remais be hind unreconciled to society. He has, o ever, filled with a gloomy sensibility the sam allotted to him in the play, and to the preserves that respect which is due to h a consistent character, and an amiable, t solitary moralist. It may be observed, with scarce less core that Shakspeare has, on this occasion, fr old Adam, the servant of Orlando, whose t lity should have entitled him to notice t end of the piece, as well as to that hap which he would naturally have found, return of fortune to his master. EPILOGUE. l. 13. -- no bush,] It appears former have been the custom to hang a tuft of the door of a vintner. The practice observed in Warwickshire and the ad. counties, at statute-hirings, wakes, & people who sell ale at no other time. Id. 1. 19. furnished like a beggar. is, dressed: so before, he was furnished a huntsman. Id. 1. 23. "As please you, and I." MALONE. Id. 1. 26. If I were a woman,] In this act time, the parts of women were always formed by men or boys., Id. 1. 28. that I liked. complexions that liked me,, All's Well that Ends WelI. Historical Notes. THE story of All's Well that Ends Well, or, as uppose it to have been sometimes called, e's Labour Wonne, is originally indeed the perty of Boccace, but it came immediately to kspeare from Painter's Giletta of Narbon, in First Volume of the Palace of Pleasure, .1566, p. SS. FARMER. Shakspeare is indebted to the novel only for a few leading circumstances in the graver part of the piece. The comic business appears to be entirely of his own formation. STEEVENS. This comedy, I imagine, was written in 1606. MALONE. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. This play has many delightful scenes, though not sufficiently probable; and some happy characters, though not new, nor produced by any deep knowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster and a coward, such as has always been the sport of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laughter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare. I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helen as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second amaze, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and dismissed to happiness. The story of Bertram and Diana had been told before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the truth, scarcely Johnson. merited to be heard a second time. KING OF FRANCE. KE OF FLORENCE. BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon. AFU, an old Lord. AROLLES, a Follower of Bertram. PERSONS REPRESENTED. everal young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the Florentine War. theard, Lowa, Servants to the Countess of Rousillon. A Page. COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram. DIANA, Daughter to the Widow. MARIANA, Neighbours and Friends to the Widow. Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, etc. SCENE,-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my faer's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's mmand, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in abjection. Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, maam: you, sir, a father: he, that so generally is t all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue you; whose worthiness would stir it up where wanted, rather than lack it where there is much bundance. [amendment? Count. What hope is there of his majesty's Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; nder whose practices he hath persecuted time with ope; and finds no other advantage in the process at only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, 0, that had! how sad a passage 'tis!) whose skill ras almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched o far, would have made nature immortal, and death hould have play, for lack of work. Would, for the Jng's sake, he were living! I think, it would be he death of the king's disease. Laf. How called you the man you speak of, nadam? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and 4 was his great right to be so: 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 lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. [guishes of? Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lanLaf. 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 make 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. [tears. Laf Your commendations, madam, get from her | Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue, Laf He cannot want the best, That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. [Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, (to HELENA) be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. 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 Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's. I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself; The hind, that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. "Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit 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: Par. Keep him out. Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Bless 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 yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion, away with it. Hel. I will stand 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 speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is a virgin; virginity murders itself; and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't: out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principle itself not much the worse: away with't. Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and tooth-pick, which wear not now: your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet. There shall your master have a thousand loves, Of pretty, fond, adoptions christendoms, Hel. That I wish well.-Tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Which might be felt: that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And show what we alone must think; which new Returns us thanks. Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for ve [Exit Pe. thee, I will think of thee at court. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can rement Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were bo n unde must needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight safety: but the composition, that your valour Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes t fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, a like the wear well. thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier: P Par. I am so full of business, I cannot answ which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize th understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, ant thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine rance makes thee away: farewell. When thon L leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast noce, member thy friends: get thee a good husband, ar E use him as he uses thee: so farewell. SCENE II-Paris. A Room in the King's Pai with letters; Lords and others attendis King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war. 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial. 1 Lord. His love and wisdom. Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. King. He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes: |