ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

KING OF FRANCE.
THE DUKE OF FLORENCE.
BERTRAM, Count of Rossillon.
LAFEW, an old Lord.
PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords who serve with Bertram in the Florentine War.
RYNALDO, servant to the Countess of Rossillon.
Clown, servant to the Countess of Rossillon.
A Page, servant to the Countess of Rossillon.
COUNTESS OF ROSSILLON, mother of Bertram.
HELENA, a young woman under the Countess's protection.
An old WIDOW of Florence.
DIANA, daughter of the Widow.
VIOLENTA, neighbor and friend of the Widow.
MARIANA, neighbor and friend of the Widow.

Lords serving the KING; Officers; Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine.

Enter Bertram the Countess Helena of Rossillon, and Lafew, all dressed in black.

COUNTESS.
In losing my son, I bury a second husband.

BERTRAM.
As I leave, madam, I can't help but cry over my father's death again; but I must follow the king's command, to whom I am now under obligation, always in submission.

LAFEW.
You will find a husband in the king, madam; you, sir, will find a father. The man who is always good must certainly show his virtue to you, whose worthiness would inspire it where it is lacking, rather than leave it out where there is so much of it.

COUNTESS.
What hope do we have for his majesty’s recovery?

LAFEW.
He has given up on his doctors, madam; by following their treatments, he has spent his time clinging to hope, but all he gains from it is just the loss of hope as time goes on.

COUNTESS.
This young woman had a father—oh, that “had!” what a sad thing to say!—whose talent was nearly as impressive as his integrity; if it had gone any further, it could have made nature eternal, and death would have been out of a job. I wish for the king’s sake he were still alive! I believe it would cure the king’s illness.

LAFEW.
What did you call the man you're talking about, ma'am?

COUNTESS.
He was well-known, sir, in his field, and he had every right to be: Gerard de Narbon.

LAFEW.
He was truly remarkable, madam; the king just recently spoke of him with both admiration and sadness; he was talented enough to have lived on, if knowledge could counteract death.

BERTRAM.
What’s wrong, my good lord? What is the king suffering from?

LAFEW.
A fistula, my lord.

BERTRAM.
I hadn't heard of it before.

LAFEW.
I wish it weren't so well-known. Is this lady the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

COUNTESS.
She’s his only child, my lord, and entrusted to my care. I have high hopes for her future based on the education she’s receiving and the qualities she’s inherited, which make her natural gifts even more impressive. When someone with a corrupt mind possesses good qualities, people admire them but also feel sorry for them; they are both virtues and misleading. In her case, those qualities shine because of her simplicity; she inherits her honesty and embodies her goodness.

LAFEW.
Your compliments, ma'am, come from her tears.

COUNTESS.
It’s the best way for a girl to express her praise. The memory of her father only brings her sadness, making her lose all color in her face. Enough of this, Helena; stop it, or people might think you’re pretending to be sad instead of actually feeling it.

HELENA.
I really do pretend to be sad, but I am actually sad too.

LAFEW.
A little bit of sadness is appropriate for the dead; overwhelming sorrow is harmful to the living.

COUNTESS.
If life is against the pain, too much of it can quickly become lethal.

BERTRAM.
Ma'am, I hope for your kind blessings.

LAFEW.
How do we understand that?

COUNTESS.
May you be blessed, Bertram, and carry on your father's legacy
In character, as well as in looks! Your blood and virtue
Compete for dominance within you, and may your goodness
Be as rich as your heritage! Love everyone, trust a few,
Harm no one. Be strong enough to face your enemies
More through ability than aggression; and keep your friends
Close, as if guarding them with your life. Be reprimanded for being quiet,
But never criticized for speaking up. Whatever more heaven wishes,
May it be granted to you while my prayers bring it down,
Fall upon you! Goodbye. My lord,
He is an inexperienced courtier; please, my lord,
Advise him.

LAFEW.
He can't want the best
That will come with his love.

COUNTESS.
God bless him! Goodbye, Bertram.

[Exit Countess.]

BERTRAM.
May the best wishes that come from your thoughts serve you well! [To Helena.] Be kind to my mother, your mistress, and treat her with great care.

LAFEW.
Goodbye, lovely lady, you need to uphold your father's honor.

[Exit Bertram and Lafew.]

HELENA.
Oh, if only that were all! I don't think about my father,
And these big tears honor his memory more
Than the ones I cry for him. What was he like?
I've forgotten him; my imagination
Only favors Bertram.
I am lost: I can't live, not at all,
If Bertram is away. It would be just as pointless
As if I were to love a bright, particular star,
And think I could marry it, he's so much above me.
In his bright glow and surrounding light
I must find comfort, not in his presence.
The ambition in my love is torturing itself:
The deer that seeks to mate with the lion
Must die for love. It was nice, although a torment,
To see him every hour; to sit and sketch
His arched brows, his keen eye, his curls,
In the table of our hearts,—a heart too capable
Of every detail and charm of his sweet face.
But now he's gone, and my idolizing imagination
Must reverence his memory. Who's coming here?

Enter Parolles.

One who accompanies him: I love him for who he is,
And yet I know he’s a notorious liar,
I see him as a big fool, only a coward;
Yet these flaws fit him so well
That they come to light when virtue’s tough exterior
Looks bleak in the cold wind: meanwhile, we often see
Cold wisdom hanging around useless foolishness.

Parolles.
Save yourself, fair queen!

HELENA.
And you, king!

No.

HELENA.
No way.

PAROLLES.
Are you thinking about virginity?

HELENA.
Yes. You have a bit of a soldier in you; let me ask you something. Man is the enemy of virginity; how can we protect it from him?

PAROLLES.
Keep him away.

HELENA.
But he attacks; and our purity, though strong in defense, is still vulnerable. Show us some kind of strong resistance.

PAROLLES.
There's no one. A man who sits down in front of you will work against you and tear you down.

HELENA.
Protect our poor virginity from those who would undermine it and blow it up! Is there no strategy for how virgins could blow up men?

PAROLLES.
Once virginity is lost, a man will be quicker to get excited; but if you try to take it away again, you'll end up losing your city from the damage you've caused. It's not wise for the natural order to preserve virginity. Losing virginity is a natural progression, and there has never been a virgin who was born until virginity was first lost. What you're made of is the stuff that creates virgins. Virginity, once lost, can be found again many times; but if it's always kept, it's always lost. It’s too frigid a partner. Get rid of it!

HELENA.
I’ll put up with it for a while, even if it means I stay a virgin.

PAROLLES.
There's not much to say about it; it's against the rules of nature. To talk about virginity is to blame your mothers, which is total disobedience. The one who hangs himself is a virgin: virginity commits suicide, and should be buried in the streets, far away from any place of honor, as a terrible offense against nature. Virginity breeds bugs, just like cheese; it consumes itself down to nothing and dies while trying to satisfy its own hunger. Plus, virginity is annoying, arrogant, lazy, made up of self-love, which is the most forbidden sin in the book. Don't hold onto it; you'll only end up losing. Throw it away! Within a year, it'll turn into two, which is a nice gain, and the original won't be much worse off. Get rid of it!

HELENA.
How can someone make it appealing to her in her own way?

PAROLLES.
Let me see. Honestly, it’s bad to like someone who doesn’t like you. It's something that loses its appeal with dishonesty; the longer you hold onto it, the less valuable it becomes. Let it go while it still has some worth; respond to the current situation. Virginity, like an old courtier, is out of style, dressed up but not fitting in, just like a brooch and a toothpick that aren’t trendy anymore. Your value is better in your food than on your face. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of those shriveled French pears; it looks bad and tastes dry; sure, it’s a dried-up pear; it used to be better; but yeah, it’s still a dried-up pear. Do you want anything to do with it?

HELENA.
Not my virginity yet.
There your master will have a thousand loves,
A mother, a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, a leader, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a ruler,
A counselor, a betrayer, and a dear:
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His conflicting harmony, and his sweet discord,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of lovely, affectionate, adoptive communities
That blinking Cupid talks about. Now shall he—
I don’t know what he will. God send him well!
The court’s a place of learning; and he is one.

What one, seriously?

HELENA.
I wish that well. It’s a shame—

PAROLLES.
What’s the pity?

HELENA.
That wishing well doesn’t have a physical presence
That can be felt, so we, the less fortunate,
Whose lower stars confine us to wishes,
Might actually achieve something for our friends,
And reveal what we can only think, which never
Gives us any gratitude.

Enter a Page.

PAGE.
Mr. Parolles, my lord is asking for you.

[Leave Page.]

PAROLLES.
Goodbye, little Helen. If I can remember you, I'll think of you at court.

HELENA.
Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a generous star.

PAROLLES.
Under Mars, I.

HELENA.
I particularly think, under Mars.

Why under Mars?

HELENA.
The wars have kept you down so much that you must have been born under Mars.

PAROLLES.
When he was in charge.

HELENA.
I think it was when he was in retrograde.

PAROLLES.
Why do you think that?

HELENA.
You take a step back every time you fight.

PAROLLES.
That's for the win.

HELENA.
It's just like running away when fear suggests it's safer: but the mix of your courage and fear is a sign of a good character, and I appreciate that about you.

PAROLLES.
I'm so busy that I can't respond to you properly. I'll become a perfect courtier; my training will help you fit in, so you'll be able to understand a courtier's advice and know what to do when it’s offered. Otherwise, you'll perish in your ungratefulness, and your ignorance will lead to your downfall. Goodbye. When you have free time, say your prayers; when you don't, think of your friends. Find yourself a good husband and treat him the way he treats you. So, goodbye.

[Leave.]

HELENA.
Our solutions often lie within ourselves,
Which we blame on fate: the stars above
Give us freedom; only our slow efforts
Are held back when we lack motivation.
What force lifts my love so high,
That makes me see but not satisfy my longing?
The greatest chance that nature offers
Is to bring together those who are alike, and unite as if they were meant to be.
Strange attempts are impossible for those
Who measure their efforts by what they feel, and believe
What has happened cannot happen again. Who ever tried
To prove her worth and failed to win her love?
The king’s illness—my plan might fail me,
But my intentions are strong and won’t let go.

[Log out.]

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others following.

KING.
The Florentines and Senoys are at each other's throats;
They’ve fought with equal luck, and keep
A fierce war going.

FIRST LORD.
It's reported, sir.

KING.
No, it’s quite believable; we have received it here,
A certainty, confirmed by our cousin from Austria,
With care, that the Florentine will ask us
For quick help; in which our closest friend
Leads us to think otherwise and suggests
That we should refuse.

FIRST LORD.
His love and wisdom,
Approved by your majesty, should earn
The highest trust.

KING.
He has prepared our response,
And Florence is turned down before he arrives:
Yet, for our gentlemen who want to witness
The Tuscan service, they are freely allowed
To stand on either side.

SECOND LORD.
It could definitely provide
A place for our wealthy class, who are craving
For adventure and excitement.

KING.
What’s he doing here?

Enter Bertram, Lafew and Parolles.

FIRST LORD.
It's Count Rossillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.

KING.
Young man, you have your father's face;
Nature, being kind and more curious than rushed,
Has shaped you well. I hope you inherit your father's moral qualities too! Welcome to Paris.

BERTRAM.
I’m grateful and at your service, your majesty.

KING.
I wish I had that physical strength now,
Like when your father and I first became friends
And tried our skills as soldiers. He had a keen vision
For the needs of our time and was
Mentored by the bravest. He survived for a long time,
But age crept up on both of us,
And wore us out of action. It really lifts my spirits
To talk about your good father; in his youth
He had the intelligence that I can clearly see
Today in our young lords; but they can joke
Until their own mockery comes back to them unacknowledged
Before they can conceal their recklessness with honor.
Unlike a courtier, there was no disdain or bitterness
In his pride or sharpness; if there were,
His equal would have brought them out, and his honor,
Like a clock, knew the right moment when
It was time for him to speak, and at that moment,
His tongue followed his hand. He regarded those below him
As beings from another world,
And lowered his high position to their low status,
Making them proud of his humility;
In their meager praise, he found humbleness. Such a man
Could serve as a model for these younger times;
If they followed his example well, it would show them now
But going backward.

BERTRAM.
The good memories of him, sir,
Exist more vividly in your mind than on his tomb;
His epitaph doesn’t live on as strongly
As it does in your royal words.

KING.
I wish I could be with him! He would always say,—
I think I can hear him now; his persuasive words
He didn’t just throw out there, but made sure they
Took root and blossomed,—“Don’t let me live,”
This good sadness of his often started
At the end of fun,
When it was all done,—“Don’t let me live,” he said,
“Once my passion runs dry, to be the leftover
Of younger folks, whose sharp senses
Reject anything but what’s brand new; whose judgments are
Just reflections of their clothes; whose loyalties
Fade before their trends.” This is what he wished.
I, following him, wish the same,
Since I can’t bring home either wax or honey,
I’d rather break away from my hive
To make some space for the workers.

SECOND LORD.
You’re loved, sir;
Those who give it to you the least will miss you first.

KING.
I know my role well. How long has it been, Count,
Since the doctor at your father's passed away?
He was quite renowned.

BERTRAM.
About six months ago, my lord.

KING.
If he were alive, I would give it one more shot;—
Help me up;—the others have exhausted me
With their constant requests; nature and illness
Can take their time debating it. Welcome, Count;
My son’s just as dear to me.

Thanks, Your Majesty.

[Exit. Fanfare.]

Enter Countess, Steward and Jester.

COUNTESS.
I’m listening now. What do you think of this lady?

STEWARD.
Madam, I hope the effort I've put into making you happy is recognized in my past actions; because when we boast about ourselves, we undermine our modesty and taint the purity of what we truly deserve.

COUNTESS.
What is this scoundrel doing here? Leave now, you rascal. I don’t fully believe the complaints I’ve heard about you; it’s just that I’m hesitant to accept them because I know you have the foolishness to do those things and enough skill to make those tricks your own.

CLOWN.
It's not a secret to you, ma'am, I'm a poor guy.

COUNTESS.
Alright, sir.

CLOWN.
No, ma'am, it's not great that I'm poor, even though many rich people are doomed; but if I can have your ladyship’s kindness to venture into the world, Isbel and I will do the best we can.

COUNTESS.
Do you really want to be a beggar?

CLOWN.
I really appreciate your support in this matter.

COUNTESS.
In which case?

CLOWN.
In Isbel’s case and my own, service isn’t inherited, and I don’t think I’ll ever have God’s blessing until I have children of my own; because they say kids are blessings.

COUNTESS.
Tell me why you want to get married.

CLOWN.
My poor body, ma'am, needs it; I'm driven by my desires, and I have to go where the devil pushes.

COUNTESS.
Is this all you have to say?

CLOWN.
Honestly, ma'am, I have my own spiritual reasons, whatever they may be.

COUNTESS.
Will the world know them?

CLOWN.
I've been a pretty bad person, just like you and everyone else; and honestly, I'm getting married so I can change my ways.

COUNTESS.
Your marriage, before your mistake.

CLOWN.
I'm out of friends, ma'am, and I hope to make some for my wife's sake.

COUNTESS.
Those kinds of friends are your enemies, fool.

CLOWN.
You’re being superficial, ma'am, when it comes to close friends; because those guys are doing what I’m tired of. The one who farms my land takes care of my animals and lets me enjoy the harvest: if I’m being cheated on, he’s my laborer. The one who comforts my wife is taking care of my family; the one who takes care of my family loves my family; the one who loves my family is my friend; therefore, the one who kisses my wife is my friend. If men could just be happy with who they are, there wouldn’t be any worry in marriage; because young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, regardless of their different beliefs, have the same mindset; they can clash horns together like any deer in the herd.

COUNTESS.
Will you always be a foul-mouthed and slanderous jerk?

CLOWN.
I'm a prophet, madam, and I'm telling you the truth in my own way:
   For I will sing the ballad again,
   Which men will find to be true;
   Your marriage is determined by fate,
   Your cuckoo sings by nature.

COUNTESS.
Go away, sir; I'll speak with you more later.

STEWARD.
If it pleases you, madam, he asked Helen to come to you; I need to talk about her.

COUNTESS.
Hey, tell my lady's maid I want to talk to her; I mean Helen.

CLOWN.
[Sings.]
   Was this pretty face the reason, she asked,
     Why the Greeks destroyed Troy?
   What a foolish thing to do, such foolishness,
      Was this King Priam’s happiness?
   As she sighed while she stood,
   As she sighed while she stood,
      She then declared this:
   Among nine bad, if one is good,
   Among nine bad, if one is good,
     There’s still one good out of ten.

COUNTESS.
What, one good out of ten? You're ruining the song, you fool.

CLOWN.
One good woman in ten, ma'am, which cleans up the song. If only God would make the world this way all year round! We wouldn't have any issues with the tithe-woman if I were the pastor. One in ten, he says! And we might get a good woman born with every shooting star or during an earthquake; that would really improve the odds. A guy could go through a lot before he finds one.

COUNTESS.
You’ll be leaving, you scoundrel, and you’ll do as I say!

CLOWN.
That guy should be at a woman's command, and yet no harm done! While honesty isn't a straight-laced thing, it won't do any harm; it will put on the humility of a priest's robe over the big heart of a good person. I'm leaving, indeed; the task is for Helen to come here.

[Leave.]

COUNTESS.
Alright, let's go.

STEWARD.
I know, ma'am, you completely love your lady-in-waiting.

COUNTESS.
I do believe so. Her father entrusted her to me, and she has the right to claim as much love as she finds, without any other benefits. She is owed more than what has been given, and she will receive even more than she asks for.

STEWARD.
Madam, I was very late, closer to her than I think she wanted me to be; she was alone and was speaking to herself, her own words echoing in her ears; I’m sure they didn’t reach any outsider's ears. What she was saying was that she loved your son. She mentioned that fortune wasn’t a goddess that would create such a divide between their two situations; love wasn’t a god who would use his power only where qualities were equal; Diana wasn’t a queen of virgins who would allow her poor knight to be caught off guard without help in the first attack or a ransom afterward. She expressed this with the most profound sorrow I’ve ever heard from a virgin, and I thought it was my duty to let you know; since, should a loss occur, it’s important for you to be aware of it.

COUNTESS.
You’ve handled this honestly; keep it to yourself. I had heard some hints about this before, but they were so uncertain that I couldn’t really believe or doubt them. Please, leave me; hold this close to your heart; and thank you for your genuine concern. I’ll talk to you more about it later.

[Exit Steward.]

Welcome Helena.

Even so, it was like that for me when I was young;
If we truly belong to nature, then these are ours; this thorn
Rightfully belongs to our rose of youth;
Our blood is ours, and this is born from our blood;
It’s the display and proof of nature’s truth,
Where love’s intense passion is marked in youth.
By our memories of days gone by,
Those were our faults, or at least we believed they were none.
Her eye is troubled by it; I see that now.

HELENA.
What do you desire, madam?

COUNTESS.
You know, Helen,
I am like a mother to you.

HELENA.
My esteemed mistress.

COUNTESS.
No, I'm a mother.
Why not a mother? When I said mother,
I thought you saw a snake. What’s wrong with being a mother,
That you react like this? I say I am your mother,
And include you among those
Who were carried in my womb. It’s often seen
That adoption competes with nature, and choice produces
An inherent connection to us from outside roots.
You’ve never burdened me with a mother’s sigh,
Yet I show you a mother’s concern.
God’s mercy, girl! Does it make your blood run cold
To say I am your mother? What’s going on,
That this troubled messenger of tears,
The many-colored Iris, surrounds your eyes?
—Is it because you are my daughter?

HELENA.
I'm not.

COUNTESS.
I’m telling you, I am your mother.

HELENA.
Excuse me, ma'am;
Count Rossillon can't be my brother.
I'm from a humble background, he's from a respected family;
There's nothing notable about my parents, his are all noble,
He is my master, my dear lord; and I
Live as his servant, and I will die his vassal.
He cannot be my brother.

COUNTESS.
Nor I your mom?

HELENA.
You are my mother, madam; I wish you were—
So that my lord, your son, wasn't my brother,—
Really my mother! Or if you both were our mothers,
I wouldn’t care any more than I do for heaven,
As long as I wasn’t his sister. Can’t it be any other way,
But that I, your daughter, have to be his sister?

COUNTESS.
Yes, Helen, you could be my daughter-in-law.
God forbid you don’t mean it! daughter and mother
Struggle within you. What! Are you pale again?
My fear has caught your affection; now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
The source of your salty tears. Now, it’s obvious
You love my son; your imagination is ashamed,
For going against the obvious declaration of your feelings
To say you don’t. So, tell me the truth;
But do tell me it is true; for, look, your cheeks
Reveal it, one to the other; and your eyes
Show it so clearly in your actions,
That they express it without words; only sin
And stubbornness hold your tongue,
Causing truth to be doubted. Speak, is it true?
If it is true, you have woven a beautiful thread;
If it’s not, then deny it; however, I insist,
As heaven will help me for your benefit,
To tell me honestly.

HELENA.
Excuse me, madam.

COUNTESS.
Do you love my kid?

HELENA.
Excuse me, noble lady.

COUNTESS.
Do you love me, my son?

HELENA.
Don't you love him, Lady?

COUNTESS.
Don't beat around the bush; my love has a hold on you
That everyone is aware of. Come on, reveal
How you really feel, because your emotions
Have been fully exposed.

HELENA.
I admit it,
Here on my knees, before God and you,
That I love your son.
My friends were poor but honest; so is my love.
Please don’t be offended, because it doesn’t hurt him
That he is loved by me; I don't pursue him
With any bold intentions,
Nor would I want him until I deserve him;
Yet I can never figure out what that would take.
I know I love in vain, struggle against hope;
Yet in this difficult and endless situation
I still pour out my love
And continue to lose it. Thus, like an Indian,
Devout in my mistake, I worship
The sun that looks down on his admirer,
But knows nothing of him. My dear lady,
Don’t let your hate clash with my love,
For loving where you do; but if you yourself,
Whose long-standing honor supports a virtuous youth,
Ever felt such a genuine flame of affection,
Wished purely, and loved deeply, that your Diana
Was both herself and love; O then, show compassion
To one whose situation is such that she can only
Give where she is sure to lose;
That doesn’t seek to find what her search promises,
But, like a riddle, lives sweetly where she perishes!

COUNTESS.
Didn't you recently plan—be honest—to go to Paris?

HELENA.
Ma'am, I had.

COUNTESS.
Why? Tell the truth.

HELENA.
I’ll speak the truth; I swear it by grace itself.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and proven effects, which his readings
And clear experience had gathered
For general use; and he instructed me
To keep them safe and share them,
As notes whose powers were
Greater than what was written. Among the rest,
There’s a remedy, approved, noted,
To heal the desperate weakness that has
Made the king feel lost.

COUNTESS.
Was this your reason
For going to Paris? Speak.

HELENA.
My lord, your son made me think of this;
Otherwise, Paris, the medicine, and the king,
Would likely have been absent from my thoughts
During our conversation.

COUNTESS.
But think about it, Helen,
If you were to offer your supposed help,
Do you think he would accept it? He and his doctors
Are on the same page; he believes they can't help him;
They believe they can't help. How can they trust
A poor uneducated girl when the experts,
Filled with their knowledge, have given up
On the danger itself?

HELENA.
There’s something in this
More than just my father’s skill, which was the greatest
In his profession, that his good treatment
Should be honored as my legacy
By the luckiest stars in the sky; and if you would
Just let me try my luck, I’d risk
My own life for his recovery.
By such a day, an hour.

COUNTESS.
Do you believe it?

HELENA.
Yes, ma'am, intentionally.

COUNTESS.
Well, Helen, you have my permission and my love,
Support and helpers, and my warm wishes
To everyone in the court. I’ll stay at home,
And pray for God’s blessing on your endeavor.
Leave tomorrow; and know this,
Whatever I can do to assist you, I will.

[Exit.]

Flourish. Enter the King with young Nobles saying goodbye for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles and Attendants.

KING.
Goodbye, young lords; don't abandon these warrior values;
And you, my lords, goodbye;
Share the advice among you; if both of you get everything,
The gift expands as it’s received,
And is enough for both.

FIRST LORD.
It’s our hope, sir,
After well-trained soldiers, to come back
And find you in good health.

KING.
No, no, it can't be; and yet my heart
Won't admit that it’s the reason for the pain
That surrounds my life. Goodbye, young lords.
Whether I live or die, be the sons
Of honorable Frenchmen; let higher Italy—
Those who are left with just the remnants
Of the last monarchy—know that you come
Not to chase after honor, but to claim it, when
The bravest seeker hesitates: find what you’re looking for,
So that fame can shout your names. I say goodbye.

SECOND LORD.
At your command, I'm here to serve you, your majesty!

KING.
Those girls from Italy, pay attention to them;
They say our French are too speechless to refuse
If they ask you for something; be careful not to become captives
Before you offer your service.

Both.
Our hearts hear your warnings.

KING.
Goodbye.—Come here to me.

The King relaxes on a couch.

FIRST LORD.
Oh my dear lord, please don't leave us!

PAROLLES.
It’s not his fault; the spark.

SECOND LORD.
Oh, it’s brave wars!

PAROLLES.
Absolutely amazing! I've witnessed those wars.

BERTRAM.
I’m being told to wait, and being bombarded with,
“Too young,” “wait until next year,” and “it’s too early.”

PAROLLES.
If you’re determined, boy, sneak away boldly.

BERTRAM.
I'll stay here like a workhorse,
Squeaking my shoes on the plain stone,
Until honor is valued, and no sword is carried
Except one for dancing. By heaven, I’ll sneak away.

FIRST LORD.
There's honor in the theft.

PAROLLES.
Do it, count.

SECOND LORD.
I'm your accomplice; and so goodbye.

BERTRAM.
I’m growing closer to you, and saying goodbye feels like torture.

FIRST LORD.
Goodbye, captain.

SECOND LORD.
Sweet Mr. Parolles!

PAROLLES.
Noble heroes, my sword and yours are alike. Good sparks and shiny, a word, good metals. You’ll find in the Spinii regiment one Captain Spurio, with his scar, a symbol of battle, here on his left cheek; it was this very sword that made it. Tell him I’m alive; and watch his reports for me.

Sure thing, noble captain.

PAROLLES.
May Mars bless you as his apprentices!

[Exit Lords.]

What will you do?

BERTRAM.
Stay the king.

PAROLLES.
Use a more generous farewell for the noble lords; you've kept your goodbye too simple. Be more expressive with them; they embody the current trends; they walk, eat, speak, and move as influenced by the most popular forces; and even if the devil sets the pace, they are the ones to follow. After them, give a more expansive farewell.

And I will do that.

PAROLLES.
Valuable guys, and likely to be really strong swordsmen.

[Exit Bertram and Parolles.]

Enter Lafew.

LAFEW.
Sorry, my lord [kneeling], for myself and for the news I bring.

KING.
I'll pay you to get up.

LAFEW.
Here’s a man who has come to bring his pardon.
I wish you had knelt, my lord, to ask for my mercy,
And that you could stand up like this at my request.

KING.
I wish I had; I would have smashed your head,
And asked you for mercy for it.

LAFEW.
Honestly, my lord, it’s like this: do you want to be cured
of your sickness?

KING.
No.

LAFEW.
Oh, will you eat
No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will
My precious grapes, and if my royal fox
Could reach them. I have seen a medicine
That can bring life to a stone,
Spark a rock, and make you dance joyfully
With lively energy and movement; whose gentle touch
Is strong enough to awaken King Pippen, no,
To give great Charlemagne a pen in his hand
And write her a love note.

KING.
What is this 'her'?

LAFEW.
Why, doctor, it's a woman! My lord, there's someone here,
If you want to meet her. Honestly, I swear,
If I can express my thoughts clearly this time, I have spoken
With someone who, considering her gender, age, profession,
Wisdom, and steadfastness, has impressed me more
Than I can admit. Do you want to see her,
Since that's what she asks, and find out what she needs?
Once that's done, feel free to laugh at me.

KING.
Now, good Lafew,
Bring in the admiration; so we can share
Our amazement with you, or take away your
Surprise by wondering how you managed it.

LAFEW.
No way, I’ll match you,
And I won’t take all day either.

[Exit Lafew.]

KING.
So he never really prepares for anything special.

Enter Lafew with Helena.

LAFEW.
No, come this way.

KING.
This hurry has wings indeed.

LAFEW.
No, come over here.
This is his majesty, so tell him what you think.
You do look like a traitor, but his majesty rarely fears that kind; I’m Cressid’s uncle,
Who dares to leave two people alone. Take care.

[Leave.]

KING.
Now, beautiful one, is what you need related to us?

HELENA.
Yes, my good lord.
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
And he was skilled in his profession.

KING.
I knew him.

HELENA.
I would rather hold back my praises for him.
Knowing him is enough. On his deathbed,
He gave me many remedies, but mainly one,
Which, as the most precious outcome of his practice,
And the only treasure from his vast experience,
He advised me to keep like a treasure,
Safer than my own two eyes; I cherish it so,
And hearing that your royal highness is affected
By that malicious issue, in which the honor
Of my dear father’s gift is most powerful,
I come to present it to you, along with my service,
With all due humility.

KING.
We thank you, maiden,
But we can't be so gullible about a cure,
When our most knowledgeable doctors leave us, and
The gathered experts have decided
That skilled effort can never free nature
From her unchangeable state. I say we must not
So tarnish our judgment or spoil our hope,
To lower our past affliction
To unqualified healers, or to separate
Our true selves and our reputation, to value
A pointless remedy, when we believe we need more than that.

HELENA.
So my duty will reward me for my efforts.
I won't impose my role on you anymore,
Humbly asking for your royal approval
To let me return once more.

KING.
I can't give you less and still be called grateful.
You thought you were helping me; and this is the thanks I give
Like one who’s near death to those who want him to live.
But what I fully know, you don’t know at all;
I know all my danger, but you don’t know a thing.

HELENA.
What I can do can't hurt to try,
Since you refuse to accept any solution.
The one who completes the biggest tasks
Often does them through the weakest means.
So sacred texts have shown wisdom in children,
When judges have been infants. Great floods have flowed
From simple beginnings, and vast seas have dried up
When the greatest denied miracles.
Often expectation falls short, and most often here
Where it promises the most; and often it succeeds
When hope is lowest, and despair is strongest.

KING.
I can't listen to you. Goodbye, kind lady.
Your efforts, if unused, must be paid for by you;
Offers not accepted earn no gratitude.

HELENA.
Inspired merit is blocked by mere breath.
It’s not the same for Him who knows everything
As it is for us who judge by appearances;
But it’s mostly our arrogance when
We think the help of heaven is just the actions of men.
Dear sir, please agree to my efforts;
It’s heaven, not me, that should be tested.
I’m not a fraud, proclaiming
Myself above my actual goals,
But I know I think, and I think I know for sure,
My skills are not beyond reach, nor are you beyond healing.

KING.
Are you really that confident? How long do you think it will take for me to get better?

HELENA.
The greatest grace brings grace.
Before the sun's horses rise and set
Twice with their fiery light,
Before Hesperus, in the dark and western damp,
Turns off her sleepy lamp;
Or twenty-four times the pilot's glass
Has counted the sneaky minutes as they go;
What is weak from your strong parts will disappear,
Health will thrive, and sickness will easily fade away.

KING.
Based on your certainty and confidence
What are you willing to risk?

HELENA.
The price of disrespect,
A shamelessness that reveals my shame,
Slandered by hateful songs; my name as a girl
Burned with a different label; even worse, tortured
By the worst, I wish for my life to end.

KING.
I think a blessed spirit speaks through you,
His powerful voice in a weak organ;
And what seems impossible could be overcome
In common sense, which finds another way.
Your life is precious, for everything that life values
Counts you worthy of the name of life:
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all
That happiness and youth can call happy.
You must hint at risking this
With either infinite skill or monstrous desperation.
Sweet practitioner, I will try your medicine,
Which could lead to your own death if I die.

HELENA.
If I mess with time, or back off from what I said
Without pity, let me die, and I deserve it.
If I don’t help, then death is my cost;
But if I do help, what do you promise me?

King.
State your request.

HELENA.
But will you even it out?

KING.
Yes, by my scepter and my hopes for heaven.

HELENA.
Then you will give me, with your royal hand
Whichever husband you can offer:
Let me be free from the arrogance
Of choosing from the royal blood of France,
To carry forward my low and humble name
With any part or image of your status;
But someone like that, your vassal, whom I know
Is available for me to ask you to give.

KING.
Here’s my hand; now that the terms are clear,
I’ll fulfill your wishes without any fear;
So choose your time, because I,
Your willing servant, still count on you to try.
I have more questions for you, and I need to know,
But knowing more won’t mean I trust you less, though:
Where you came from, what’s been your way; but for now,
Enjoy my welcome, and without a doubt, take a bow.
Someone help me here! If you go as far as your word,
I’ll match your actions, you’ll see they’re heard.

[Thrive. Exit.]

Enter Countess and Clown.

COUNTESS.
Come on, sir; I’m about to test your upbringing.

CLOWN.
I’ll show myself well-fed and poorly educated. I know my job is just for the court.

COUNTESS.
To the court! Why do you think that place is so special when you dismiss it with such disdain? But to the court!

CLOWN.
Honestly, ma'am, if God has given a man any manners, he can easily leave them behind at court: someone who can’t bow, take off their hat, kiss their hand, and stay quiet has no manners at all; and to be honest, such a person isn’t suited for the court. As for me, I have a response that works for everyone.

COUNTESS.
Wow, that’s a generous answer that works for everything.

CLOWN.
It's like a barber's chair that accommodates everyone— the small-butt, the wide-butt, the muscular-butt, or any butt.

COUNTESS.
Will your answer work for all questions?

CLOWN.
As useful as ten coins are to a lawyer, as your French crown is to your fancy outfit, as Tib’s rush is for Tom’s finger, as a pancake is for Shrove Tuesday, a dance for May Day, as the nail fits in its hole, the cuckold fits his horn, as a nagging woman does to a quarrelsome man, as the nun’s lip is to the friar’s mouth; not to mention, as the pudding fits in its skin.

COUNTESS.
Do you really have an answer that fits every question?

CLOWN.
From below your duke to under your constable, it will suit any question.

COUNTESS.
It has to be an answer of huge proportions that meets all expectations.

CLOWN.
But honestly, it's not that simple, if the wise are to be believed. Here it is, and all that goes with it. If you want to know if I'm a courtier, it won't hurt you to find out.

COUNTESS.
If only we could be young again! I'll be a fool asking, hoping your answer will make me wiser. Please, sir, are you a courtier?

CLOWN.
Oh man! It's just a simple delay. Even more, there are plenty of them.

COUNTESS.
Sir, I’m just a friend of yours who cares about you.

CLOWN.
Oh Lord, sir! Thick, thick; don’t hold back on me.

COUNTESS.
I don't think you can eat any of this simple food, sir.

CLOWN.
Oh Lord, sir! No, go ahead and try me, I guarantee you.

COUNTESS.
You were recently punished, sir, if I’m not mistaken.

CLOWN.
Oh Lord, sir! Please don’t spare me.

COUNTESS.
Do you shout “Oh Lord, sir!” when you’re being whipped and say “don’t spare me”? Honestly, your “Oh Lord, sir!” comes right after the whipping. You’d handle a whipping just fine if you were simply tied up for it.

CLOWN.
I’ve never had worse luck in my life. Oh Lord, sir! I see that things can last a while, but they can’t last forever.

COUNTESS.
I play the role of a graceful housewife with the times, amusing myself so cheerfully with a fool.

CLOWN.
Oh Lord, sir! Well, that works out perfectly again.

COUNTESS.
That's enough, sir! Focus on your task. Give Helen this,
And encourage her to reply right away.
Send my regards to my relatives and my son.
This isn’t much.

CLOWN.
Not much praise for them?

COUNTESS.
Not much work for you. Do you get what I mean?

CLOWN.
Absolutely. I'm already there in my mind.

COUNTESS.
Hurry back.

[They exit separately.]

Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.

LAFEW.
They say miracles are a thing of the past; and we have our thinkers who turn everyday things into something supernatural and pointless. Because of this, we treat small troubles lightly, hiding ourselves in a false sense of understanding when we should be submitting to an unknown fear.

PAROLLES.
Well, it's the most amazing thing that has come up in recent times.

BERTRAM.
And so it is.

LAFEW.
To be let go of the artists,—

PAROLLES.
So I say; both Galen and Paracelsus.

LAFEW.
Of all the knowledgeable and genuine people,—

Paroles.
Right; I agree.

LAFEW.
That made him incurable,—

PAROLLES.
Well, there it is; I agree with that too.

LAFEW.
Can't be helped.

PAROLLES.
Right; as if he were a man certain of a—

LAFEW.
Uncertain life and certain death.

PAROLLES.
Exactly; you're right. I would have said the same.

LAFEW.
I can honestly say, it's something new to the world.

PAROLLES.
It really is; if you want to see it, you'll read it in what do you call it?

LAFEW.
A display of a divine quality in a human performer.

PAROLLES.
That's it; I would have said the exact same thing.

LAFEW.
Honestly, your dolphin isn't any livelier; I mean it respectfully—

PAROLLES.
No, it’s strange, really strange; that’s the bottom line and the long of it; and he’s got a truly wicked spirit if he won’t admit it’s the—

LAFEW.
Very helpful from above.

Yeah, that's what I say.

LAFEW.
In a very weak—

PAROLLES.
And weak servant, great power, great elevation, which should truly lead us to a greater purpose than just the recovery of the king, such as being—

LAFEW.
Very grateful.

PAROLLES.
I would have said it; you’re right. Here comes the king.

Enter King, Helena and Attendants.

LAFEW.
Lusty, as the Dutchman says. I’ll like a girl better as long as I have a tooth in my head. Why, he’s able to dance her around.

PAROLLES.
Oh my goodness! Is this not Helen?

LAFEW.
I really believe so.

KING.
Go, summon all the lords in court to come before me.

[Leave a Staff Member.]

Sit, my savior, beside your patient,
And with this healing hand, whose lost awareness
You have restored, accept once more
The confirmation of my promised gift,
Which only awaits your mention.

Enter several Lords.

Fair lady, look over here. This group of young noblemen stands before me, ready to be offered to you, over whom I hold both authority and a father’s blessing. Make your choice openly; you have the power to select, and they have no choice but to accept.

HELENA.
To each of you, a lovely and virtuous mistress
May come when love strikes! But only one for each!

LAFEW.
I’d give a bay curtal and his stuff
My mouth wouldn’t be more messed up than these boys’,
And I’d have just as little facial hair.

KING.
Look them over carefully.
Not one of them didn't have a noble father.

She talks to a Lord.

HELENA.
Gentlemen,
God has restored the king to health through me.

ALL.
We get it, and thank goodness for you.

HELENA.
I’m just a simple maid, and that makes me the richest.
I truly am just a maid.
If it pleases you, your majesty, I’ve already done what I could.
The blushes on my cheeks are telling me:
“We’re blushing because you should choose; but if you’re turned away,
Let the pale death rest on your cheek forever,
We won’t ever come back again.”

KING.
Make a choice; and, look,
Anyone who avoids your love avoids all my love for you.

HELENA.
Now, Dian, I leave your altar,
And I turn to imperial Love, that highest god,
Send my sighs to him. [To first Lord.] Sir, will you listen to my request?

FIRST LORD.
And make it happen.

HELENA.
Thanks, sir; everything else is silent.

LAFEW.
I would prefer to be in this situation than gamble my life on a game of chance.

HELENA.
[To second Lord.] The honor, sir, that shines in your beautiful eyes,
Before I even speak, responds too intimidatingly.
May love bring you success twenty times more
Than the one who wishes it and her humble affection!

SECOND LORD.
No better, if you don't mind.

HELENA.
I wish to be accepted,
Which great Love grants; and now I will take my leave.

LAFEW.
Do they all deny her? If they were my sons, I’d have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk to be made eunuchs.

HELENA.
[To third Lord.] Don't worry that I will take your hand;
I’ll never hurt you for my own benefit.
Blessings on your promises, and in your marriage
May you find better luck, if you ever get married!

LAFEW.
These guys are cold as ice, they don’t want her at all. It's true, they’re jerks to the English; the French never managed to get them.

HELENA.
[To fourth Lord.] You're too young, too cheerful, and too kind,
To turn yourself into a son from my blood.

FOURTH LORD.
Beautiful one, I don’t think that’s true.

LAFEW.
There's one more thing. I'm sure your dad drank wine. But if you're not an idiot, I'm just a fourteen-year-old; I've already known you.

HELENA.
[To Bertram.] I can’t say that I fully accept you, but I offer
Myself and my service to you for as long as I live,
Entrusting them to your guidance. This is the man.

KING.
Well then, young Bertram, take her; she’s your wife.

BERTRAM.
My wife, my lord! I ask for your permission,
In this matter, to let me use
The help of my own eyes.

KING.
Don't you know, Bertram,
What she has done for me?

BERTRAM.
Yes, my good lord,
But don’t expect to understand why I should marry her.

KING.
You know she has helped me get out of my sick bed.

BERTRAM.
But if it comes to that, my lord, bringing me down
Must mean you have to take responsibility for your actions? I know her well;
She was raised at my father's expense:
A poor doctor's daughter as my wife! I'd rather be corrupted forever!

KING.
It's only her title that you look down on, but I can elevate that. It’s strange that our bloods, of different colors, weights, and heats, all mixed together would completely erase distinctions, yet we still stand apart in such significant differences. If she’s everything virtuous except what you don’t like, a poor physician’s daughter—you don’t like that—it's virtue for the sake of a name. But don’t be like that. When virtuous things come from the lowest places, that place is dignified by the deeds of the doer. Where there are great additions but no virtue, it’s an inflated honor. Goodness is good without needing a name; so is wickedness: the essence of what something is should determine its worth, not its title. She is young, wise, and beautiful; in these, she is an immediate heir to nature. These qualities bring honor: that’s the dishonor that pretends to be born of honor, but doesn’t resemble it. Honors flourish more when we derive them from our actions rather than from our ancestors. The mere name is a slave, corrupted on every tomb and every grave, a false trophy that often remains silent where the dust and forgetfulness lie over the honored remains. What’s there to say? If you can appreciate this girl as a woman, I can create the rest. Virtue and she is her own dowry; honor and wealth come from me.

BERTRAM.
I can't love her, and I'm not going to try to.

KING.
You’re doing a disservice to yourself if you try to choose.

HELENA.
I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, my lord.
Let’s move on from everything else.

KING.
My honor is at stake, and to overcome this,
I must show my strength. Here, take her hand,
You proud, scornful boy, who doesn't deserve this precious gift,
For you, in your foolishness, have imprisoned
My love and her worth; you can't even imagine
That we, weighing your worth against hers,
Will measure you against the scale; you don’t understand
That it's in our power to place your honor where
We want it to flourish. Dismiss your contempt;
Follow our wishes, which work towards your benefit;
Don’t let your disdain fool you, but right now
Make your own fate by doing the duty
That both you owe and our power demands;
Or I will disregard you forever
And cast you into the chaos and careless attitude
Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and anger
Will be unleashed upon you in the name of justice,
Without any pity. Speak! What’s your answer!

BERTRAM.
Sorry, my gracious lord; I’m putting my thoughts in front of you. When I think about what a great creation and what a heavy burden of honor goes wherever you direct it, I realize that she, who was once the lowest of my noble thoughts, is now the one honored by the king; who, now elevated, seems as if she was born to it.

KING.
Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is yours; to whom I promise
A counterpoint; if not to your wealth,
A balance more fulfilling.

BERTRAM.
I take her hand.

KING.
Good luck and the king's favor
Shine on this contract; the ceremony
Should happen right away,
And be carried out tonight. The formal feast
Will focus more on the future,
Awaiting friends who are not here. As you love her,
Your love for me is sacred; otherwise, you’re mistaken.

[Exit King, Bertram, Helena, Lords, and Attendants.]

LAFEW.
Can you hear me, sir? I need to speak with you.

Parolles.
Your pleasure, sir.

LAFEW.
Your lord and master did well to take back his words.

PAROLLES.
Recanting! My lord! My master!

LAFEW.
Yeah. Am I not speaking a language?

PAROLLES.
It's really tough, and you can't get it without a lot of pain afterward. My master!

LAFEW.
Are you a companion to Count Rossillon?

PAROLLES.
To any count; to all counts; to what is man.

LAFEW.
The count’s servant: the count’s master has a different vibe.

PAROLLES.
You’re too old, sir; just accept it, you’re too old.

LAFEW.
I need to tell you, buddy, I write like a man; and no amount of time can change that for you.

PAROLLES.
What I'm too confident to do, I won’t do.

LAFEW.
I really thought you were a pretty smart guy for the last two meals we had together; you talked a decent amount about your travels, and it seemed alright. But your fancy clothes and accessories made me doubt that you were someone of much substance. Now that I've figured you out, I won't mind losing you again. But honestly, you're only good for show, and even that isn’t worth much.

PAROLLES.
If you didn't have the advantage of being old—

LAFEW.
Don't let your anger take you too far, or you'll hasten your troubles; if that happens—God help you for a silly mistake! So, my good lattice window, goodbye; I don't need to open your window, because I can see through you. Give me your hand.

PAROLLES.
My lord, you're treating me with the utmost disrespect.

LAFEW.
Yeah, absolutely; and you deserve it.

PAROLLES.
I haven't, my lord, earned it.

LAFEW.
Yes, genuinely, every bit of it; and I won’t hold back even a little.

Parolles.
Well, I'll be smarter.

LAFEW.
As soon as you can, because you have to deal with something tough. If you ever find yourself tied up and beaten, you'll understand what it means to be proud of your situation. I want to keep my relationship with you, or maybe just my knowledge of you, so I can say, “He’s someone I know.”

PAROLLES.
My lord, you are causing me unbearable annoyance.

LAFEW.
I wish it were hellish torture for you, and my own suffering could last forever; because I'm done with doing, as I'll show you, in whatever time age allows me.

[Leave.]

PAROLLES.
Well, you have a son who will take this disgrace off my hands; annoying, old, disgusting, annoying lord! Well, I just have to be patient; there’s no stopping someone in power. I’ll hit him, I swear, if I get the chance to meet him conveniently, even if he were twice the lord. I won’t show him any more mercy because of his age than I would to—I'll hit him, and if I could just run into him again.

Enter Lafew.

LAFEW.
Hey, your lord and master is married; there's some news for you; you have a new mistress.

PAROLLES.
I sincerely ask you to set aside some of your grievances. He is my good lord; the one I serve above is my master.

LAFEW.
Who? God?

Sure, sir.

LAFEW.
The devil is your master. Why are you tying up your arms like that? Are you making shorts out of your sleeves? Do other servants do this? You should probably put your lower body where your nose is. Honestly, if I were just two hours younger, I’d take you down. I think you’re a total nuisance, and every man should teach you a lesson. I believe you were made for people to vent their frustrations on you.

PAROLLES.
This is a harsh and unfair treatment, my lord.

LAFEW.
Come on, man; you got beat up in Italy for picking a seed out of a pomegranate; you’re a wanderer, not a real traveler. You’re more disrespectful to lords and honorable people than your background and character allow. You’re not worth another word, or else I’d call you a jerk. I'm done with you.

[Leave.]

Enter Bertram.

PAROLLES.
Alright, very good, so that’s how it is. Alright, very good; let’s keep it hidden for a while.

BERTRAM.
Ruined, and lost to worries forever!

What’s wrong, sweetheart?

BERTRAM.
Even though I've sworn before the serious priest,
I won't sleep with her.

What, what, honey?

BERTRAM.
Oh my Parolles, they’ve married me!
I’m off to the Tuscan wars, and I won't sleep with her.

PAROLLES.
France is a dump, and it doesn't deserve
The step of a man's foot: to the wars!

BERTRAM.
There are letters from my mom; I don’t know what they say yet.

PAROLLES.
Yeah, that needs to be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
He keeps his honor hidden away
That sticks to his fancy here at home,
Wasting his strength in her arms,
When he should be fueling the noble and high leaps
Of Mars’s fiery horse. To other places!
France is just a stable; we who stay here are worn-out horses,
So, to the war!

BERTRAM.
It will be done; I’ll send her to my place,
Let my mother know that I dislike her,
And why I’ve run away; I’ll write to the king
What I was too afraid to say. His recent gift
Will prepare me for those Italian battles
Where brave men fight. War is nothing
Compared to the dark home and the unwanted wife.

PAROLLES.
Will this whim hold for you, are you sure?

BERTRAM.
Come with me to my room and give me your advice.
I’ll send her away right now. Tomorrow
I’m off to war, and she’s left with her loneliness.

PAROLLES.
Well, these situations are tricky; there's a lot going on. It's tough:
A young man who's married is a man who's trapped.
So just go away and leave her confidently; move on.
The king has treated you unfairly; but let’s keep that quiet.

[Exit.]

Enter Helena and Clown.

HELENA.
My mom greets me warmly: is she doing okay?

CLOWN.
She isn't feeling great, but she's okay; she's really happy, but she's still not well. But thank goodness, she's fine and doesn't need anything in the world; still, she's not well.

HELENA.
If she’s doing really well, what’s wrong with her that she’s not doing well?

CLOWN.
Honestly, she’s doing really well, except for two things.

HELENA.
What are the two things?

CLOWN.
One, that she’s not in heaven, where God send her quickly! The other, that she’s on earth, from where God send her quickly!

Enter Parolles.

Parolles.
Bless you, my lucky lady!

HELENA.
I hope, sir, that I have your blessing to pursue my own good fortune.

PAROLLES.
You had my prayers to guide them; and to keep them on track, keep them coming. Oh, my friend, how is my old lady doing?

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

PAROLLES.
I’m not saying anything.

CLOWN.
Honestly, you’re the smarter one; because a lot of guys talk themselves into trouble. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing is a big part of your identity, which is really close to being nothing at all.

Parolles.
Get lost! You're a jerk.

CLOWN.
You should have said, sir, that you’re a knave before calling someone else a knave; that is, before me, you’re a knave. That would have been the truth, sir.

PAROLLES.
Come on, you're a clever fool; I've figured you out.

CLOWN.
Did you discover me within yourself, sir? Or were you taught how to see me? The quest, sir, was worthwhile; and you might find quite a bit of foolishness in yourself, which would delight the world and bring even more laughter.

PAROLLES.
A good guy, I swear, and well taken care of.
Madam, my lord will leave tonight;
A very serious matter requires his attention.
The great privilege and right of love,
Which, as your due, time demands, he acknowledges;
But he postpones it due to necessary restraint;
The lack of which, and the delay, is filled with sweetness;
Which they are now preparing during this limited time,
To make the upcoming hour overflow with joy
And pleasure fill to the brim.

HELENA.
What else does he want?

PAROLLES.
That you will take your immediate leave from the king,
And hurry as if it were your own best interest,
Backed by whatever excuse you think
Can make it sound like a necessary action.

HELENA.
What more does he command?

PAROLLES.
Now that you have this, you should immediately
Wait for his next instructions.

HELENA.
In everything, I rely on his decision.

Parolles.
I'll report it that way.

HELENA.
I beg you. Come here.

[They exit.]

Enter Lafew and Bertram.

LAFEW.
But I hope you don't think of him as a soldier.

BERTRAM.
Yes, my lord, and very brave indeed.

LAFEW.
You got it straight from him.

BERTRAM.
And by other reliable testimony.

LAFEW.
Then my watch isn't accurate; I mistook this situation for something trivial.

BERTRAM.
I can assure you, my lord, he is very knowledgeable and, as a result, quite brave.

LAFEW.
I have sinned against his wisdom and disrespected his courage; and my situation is risky, since I still can't find it in my heart to apologize. Here he comes; please help us make peace; I want to pursue friendship.

Enter Parolles.

PAROLLES.
[To Bertram.] These things will be done, sir.

LAFEW.
Excuse me, sir, who made his suit?

Parolles.
Hey, Sir!

LAFEW.
Oh, I know him well, I do; he is a skilled worker, a really good tailor.

BERTRAM.
[Aside to Parolles.] Has she gone to the king?

She is.

Will she be away tonight?

PAROLLES.
As you'll have her.

BERTRAM.
I've written my letters, packed away my treasure,
Arranged for our horses; and tonight,
Just when I'm supposed to claim the bride,
Everything falls apart before I even start.

LAFEW.
A good traveler is someone you want at the end of a dinner; but someone who makes up stories and twists the truth to fill the silence with nonsense should be listened to once and ignored three times.— God save you, Captain.

BERTRAM.
Is there any bad blood between you and my lord, sir?

PAROLLES.
I don't know how I ended up in my lord's bad graces.

LAFEW.
You've jumped right into it, boots and spurs and all, just like the guy who leapt into the custard; and you'll quickly get out of it again to avoid having to answer questions about where you live.

BERTRAM.
You might have gotten him confused, my lord.

LAFEW.
And I will always do so, even though I took him at his word. Goodbye, my lord; and believe this about me, there’s no substance in this empty show; the essence of this man is in his appearance; don’t trust him with anything serious; I’ve had experience with them and know their true nature. Goodbye, my friend; I’ve spoken better of you than you deserve or will earn from me; but we must fight against evil.

[Log out.]

Parolles.
A lazy lord, I swear.

Sure thing.

PAROLLES.
What, you don't know him?

BERTRAM.
Yeah, I know him pretty well; and people generally think he's decent. Here comes my problem.

Enter Helena.

HELENA.
I have, sir, as you instructed,
Talked to the king and got his permission
For you to leave right away; he just wants
Some private conversation with you.

BERTRAM.
I will follow his wishes.
You shouldn't be surprised, Helen, at my actions,
Which don’t align with the current times, nor do
The duties and responsibilities
That concern me personally. I was not prepared
For something like this; that's why I seem
So unsettled: this pushes me to ask you;
To head home right away,
And reflect rather than question why I ask:
Because my intentions are better than they appear;
And my reasons have a depth
Greater than what you might first see
If you don’t know them. This is for my mother.

[Delivering a letter.]

It will be two days before I see you again; so
I trust you to use your judgment.

HELENA.
Sir, I have nothing to say
Except that I am your most loyal servant.

BERTRAM.
Come on, that's enough.

HELENA.
And I will always
With true devotion try to make up for what
My ordinary stars have failed to achieve
In comparison to my great fortune.

BERTRAM.
Forget about that.
I’m in a big hurry. Goodbye; get home quickly.

HELENA.
Please, sir, forgive me.

BERTRAM.
So, what do you think?

HELENA.
I'm not worthy of the wealth I owe;
Nor do I dare say it's mine, and yet it is;
But, like a timid thief, I would really like to take
What the law says is rightfully mine.

BERTRAM.
What do you want?

HELENA.
Something; and hardly even that; nothing really.
I wouldn’t tell you what I wanted to, my lord. Honestly, yes,
Strangers and enemies separate and don’t kiss.

BERTRAM.
Please don’t wait, but hurry up and get on your horse.

HELENA.
I won't go against your wishes, my lord.
Where are my other men, sir?
Goodbye,

[Exit Helena.]

BERTRAM.
Go home, where I'll never go
As long as I can swing my sword or hear the drum.
Off you go, and let's escape.

Bravely, courage!

[Exit.]

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence with two French Lords and soldiers.

DUKE.
So now you’ve heard the basic reasons for this war,
Whose major outcome has spilled a lot of blood,
And there’s still more to come.

FIRST LORD.
The conflict seems righteous on your Grace’s side; dark and terrifying for the opponent.

DUKE.
So we really wonder why our cousin France
Would, in such a just matter, turn away
From our earnest requests.

SECOND LORD.
My lord,
I can’t explain the reasons behind our state,
But like an ordinary person,
Who shapes the important decisions of a council
Without being able to act alone; that’s why I won’t
Say what I really think about it, since I’ve realized
That I’ve often been wrong in my assumptions.

DUKE.
If he likes.

FIRST LORD.
But I'm certain that the younger people among us,
Who indulge in their comfort, will come here for medicine day after day.

DUKE.
They will be welcomed;
And all the honors we can bestow
Will be theirs. You know your roles well;
They fell for your benefit when the time was right.
Tomorrow we head to the field.

Flourish. Exit.

Enter Countess and Clown.

COUNTESS.
It has all happened just as I wanted, except that he's not coming with her.

CLOWN.
Honestly, I think my young lord is a really sad man.

COUNTESS.
By what observance, may I ask?

CLOWN.
He’ll look at his boot and sing; fix the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a guy who had this knack for being sad and sold a nice estate for a song.

COUNTESS.
Let me see what he writes and when he's planning to come.

Opening a letter.

CLOWN.
I haven't thought about Isbel since I was at court. Our local girls and your court girls are nothing like each other. I've lost my charm, and I’m starting to love like an old man loves money—without any real desire.

COUNTESS.
What's going on here?

CLOWN.
Even what you have there.

[Leave.]

COUNTESS.
[Reads.] I’ve sent you a daughter-in-law; she’s healed the king and ruined me. I’ve married her but not slept with her, and I’ve promised to keep it that way forever. You’ll hear that I’ve run away; know it before the news spreads. If there’s enough space in the world, I’ll keep my distance. My duty to you.
              Your unfortunate son,
                            BERTRAM.

This isn't right, impulsive and reckless boy,
To ignore the support of such a great king,
To bring his anger down on you
By undervaluing a girl who's too virtuous
For your disrespect of authority.

Enter Clown.

CLOWN.
Oh ma'am, there's some serious news going on involving two soldiers and my young lady.

COUNTESS.
What's the matter?

CLOWN.
No, there’s some good news; your son won't be killed as quickly as I thought he would.

COUNTESS.
Why should he be killed?

CLOWN.
I agree with you, madam, if he’s running away like I’ve heard; the real danger is staying put. That’s what costs lives, even if it means gaining children. They’re coming now to tell you more. As for me, I’ve only heard that your son has run away.

[Log out.]

Enter Helena and the two Gentlemen.

First Gentleman.
Hello, good madam.

HELENA.
Ma'am, my lord is gone, forever gone.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Don't say that.

COUNTESS.
Think about patience. Please, gentlemen,—
I have experienced so many ups and downs of joy and sadness
That the first sign of either when it starts
Can’t truly move me. Where is my son, if I may ask?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Ma'am, he’s gone to work for the Duke of Florence;
We ran into him on the way there, since we just came from that direction,
And, after taking care of some business at court,
We're heading back there now.

HELENA.
Take a look at this letter, ma'am; this is my passport.

[Reads.] When you can get the ring on my finger, which will never come off, and show me a child that's truly yours that I am the father of, then call me your husband; but in that “then” I write a “never.”
This is a terrible statement.

COUNTESS.
Did you bring this letter, gentlemen?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Yeah, ma'am; And because of the situation, we regret our efforts.

COUNTESS.
Please, lady, cheer up;
If you take on all the sadness yourself,
You’re stealing part of my grief. He was my son,
But I’ll erase his name from my heart,
And you are all I have left. Is he in Florence?

Yes, ma'am.

COUNTESS.
And to be a soldier?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Such is his noble intention, and believe me,
The duke will give him all the honor
That the situation rightly deserves.

COUNTESS.
Should I take you back?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Yes, ma'am, as fast as possible.

HELENA.
[Reads.] Until I have no wife, I have nothing in France.
It's bitter.

COUNTESS.
Is that where you are?

HELENA.
Yes, ma'am.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
It’s probably just the boldness of his hand, not something his heart truly agrees with.

COUNTESS.
Nothing in France until he’s single!
There’s nothing here that’s too good for him
Except for her, and she deserves a lord
That twenty such rude boys might serve,
And call her their mistress all the time. Who was with him?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Just a servant, and a gentleman I’ve known for a while.

COUNTESS.
Parolles, right?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Yes, my good lady, he.

COUNTESS.
A really corrupt guy, full of evil.
My son ruins a good character
With his influence.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Honestly, good lady,
That guy has way too much of what he has,
Which makes him really attached to it.

COUNTESS.
You’re welcome, gentlemen.
I ask you, when you see my son,
To tell him that his sword can never win
The honor that he loses: I’ll ask you
To take this message with you.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
We are here to serve you, ma'am,
In that and all your most important matters.

COUNTESS.
Not quite, but as we adjust our polite gestures.
Will you come closer?

[Exit Countess and Gentlemen.]

HELENA.
“Until I have no wife, I have nothing in France.”
Nothing in France until he has no wife!
You will have none, Rossillon, none in France;
Then you will have everything again. Poor lord, is it me
That drives you from your country and exposes
Those delicate limbs of yours to the dangers
Of a merciless war? And is it I
That force you from the playful court, where you
Were targeted by beautiful eyes, to become the target
Of smoky guns? Oh, you heavy messengers,
That race along with the speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move through the still air,
That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I’m the one responsible;
Whoever charges at his brave heart,
I am the coward holding him there;
And even if I don’t kill him, I am the reason
His death was allowed. It would be better
If I faced the hungry lion when he roared
From the sharp constraint of hunger; it would be better
To have all the struggles that nature owes
Fall on me at once. No; come home, Rossillon,
Where honor, although often won through danger, can leave a scar,
As often as it leads to losing everything. I will leave;
My presence here is what keeps you away.
Should I stay here to do it? No, no, even if
The air of paradise fanned the house,
And angels served all. I will leave,
So that this pitiful rumor can carry news of my flight
To comfort your ears. Come, night; end, day;
For with the darkness, poor thief, I’ll slip away.

[Leave.]

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, drum and trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.

DUKE.
You are the general of our cavalry, and we,
Full of hope, place our trust and affection
In your promising future.

BERTRAM.
Sir, this is
A burden that's too much for me; but still
We'll try to handle it for your sake
To the very limits of danger.

DUKE.
Then go ahead;
And may fortune smile upon your successful journey,
Just like your favorable lady!

BERTRAM.
Today,
Great Mars, I dedicate myself to you;
If I can just be like my thoughts, I will show
That I love your battle, but hate love itself.

[Exit.]

Enter Countess and Steward.

COUNTESS.
Oh no! Would you really take her letter?
Can’t you see she’d do exactly what she did,
By sending me a letter? Read it again.

STEWARD.
[Reads.] I am a pilgrim of Saint Jacques, on my way there.
Ambitious love has so troubled me
That I walk barefoot on this cold ground,
With a vow to amend my faults.
Write, write, so that from the bloody path of war
My dearest master, your beloved son, may hurry home.
Bless him at home in peace, while I from a distance
Honor his name with passionate devotion.
Tell him I ask for his forgiveness for my actions;
I, his spiteful Juno, sent him away
From courtly friends, to live among hostile foes,
Where death and danger are always close to those who are brave.
He is too good and noble for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace to set him free.

COUNTESS.
Oh, what sharp hurt lies in her gentlest words!
Rynaldo, you have never needed advice more than now
Than to let her go like that; if I had talked to her,
I could have easily changed her mind,
But she has stopped that from happening.

STEWARD.
Excuse me, ma'am;
If I had given this to you last night,
She might have been caught; and yet she writes
That pursuing her would be pointless.

COUNTESS.
What angel will
Bless this unworthy husband? He can’t succeed,
Unless her prayers, which heaven loves to hear
And grants, save him from the greatest wrath
Of justice. Write, write, Rynaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife;
Let every word reflect her worth,
That he doesn’t seem to appreciate; my greatest grief,
Even if he feels it little, should be clearly expressed.
Send the best messenger you can find.
When he hears that she is gone,
I hope he will come back; and I hope that she,
Hearing so much, will hurry back,
Guided by pure love. I can't tell
Which of them means more to me,
I have no skill to know the difference.
Find this messenger.
My heart is heavy, and I feel weak;
Grief wants tears, and sorrow urges me to speak.

[Exit.]

Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana and other Citizenship.

WIDOW.
Come on; if they get to the city, we'll miss everything.

DIANA.
They say the French count has done a lot of honorable service.

WIDOW.
It’s been said that he captured their greatest commander and that he personally killed the duke’s brother.

A distant horn sound.

We’ve lost our workers; they’ve gone the other way. Listen! You can hear them by their trumpets.

MARIANA.
Come on, let’s go back and just be content with what we’ve heard. Well, Diana, pay attention to this French earl; a woman's honor is tied to her name; and nothing is as valuable as honesty.

WIDOW.
I have informed my neighbor about how a gentleman who is his friend has approached you.

MARIANA.
I know that scoundrel; hang him! That's Parolles; he's a disgusting officer with those manipulations for the young earl. Be careful, Diana; their promises, temptations, oaths, tokens, and all those tools of lust aren’t what they seem; many a girl has been tricked by them; and the tragic truth is, the awful consequences visible in the loss of innocence can’t dissuade others, but instead, they are trapped by the very things that threaten them. I hope I don’t need to warn you any further; but I trust your own sense of dignity will keep you safe, even if the only danger is the modesty that is so easily lost.

DIANA.
You don't need to be afraid of me.

Enter Helena in a pilgrim dress.

WIDOW.
I hope so. Look, here comes a traveler. I know she'll stay at my place; that's where they send each other; I’ll ask her. God bless you, traveler! Where are you headed?

HELENA.
To Saint Jacques le Grand.
Where do the pilgrims stay, please?

WIDOW.
At Saint Francis here, next to the harbor.

HELENA.
Is this how?

A distant march.

WIDOW.
Yeah, it is. Hey, they’re coming this way.
If you’ll wait, holy pilgrim,
Just until the troops pass by,
I’ll take you to where you can stay;
Especially since I think I know your hostess
As well as I know myself.

HELENA.
Is that you?

WIDOW.
If that works for you, traveler.

HELENA.
Thank you, and I'll wait for your convenience.

WIDOW.
I believe you came from France?

HELENA.
I did that.

WIDOW.
Here you will meet a fellow countryman of yours
Who has provided excellent service.

HELENA.
What's his name, please?

DIANA.
Do you know the Count Rossillon?

HELENA.
But by the ear, which hears the best about him;
I don't know his face.

DIANA.
Whoever he is,
He’s taken a bold step coming here. He stole away from France,
As it’s said, because the king had married him
Against his will. Do you think that’s true?

HELENA.
Yes, that's definitely true; I know his girlfriend.

DIANA.
There's a guy who works for the count
And talks about her in a very rude way.

HELENA.
What’s his name?

DIANA.
Mr. Parolles.

HELENA.
Oh, I really agree with him,
In arguing about praise or the value
Of the great count himself, she’s too insignificant
For her name to be mentioned; all her merit
Is a quiet honesty, and that
I haven’t heard anyone talk about.

DIANA.
Oh no, poor lady!
It’s a tough situation to be the wife
Of a loathsome lord.

WIDOW.
Yeah, that's true; good person, wherever she is,
Her heart feels heavy. This young girl could really help her
If she wanted to.

HELENA.
What do you mean?
Maybe the love-struck count is trying to win her over
For something not quite right.

WIDOW.
He really does,
And deals with anyone who can in such a matter
Taint the fragile honor of a girl;
But she is prepared for him and remains on guard
In the most honest defense.

Enter, with a drum and colors, a group from the Florentine army, Bertram and Parolles.

MARIANA.
Gods forbid it!

WIDOW.
So, here they come.
That's Antonio, the Duke’s oldest son;
That's Escalus.

HELENA.
Which one is the Frenchman?

DIANA.
He;
The one with the feather; he's quite a dashing guy.
I wish he loved his wife; if he were more honest
He would be a lot more attractive. Isn't he a good-looking gentleman?

HELENA.
I really like him.

DIANA.
It's a shame he's not honest. That's the same jerk
who leads him to these places. If I were his girlfriend,
I would poison that nasty guy.

HELENA.
Which one is he?

DIANA.
That jerk with the scarves. Why is he so down?

HELENA.
Maybe he was injured in the battle.

PAROLLES.
Lose our drum! Alright.

MARIANA.
He’s clearly annoyed about something. Look, he’s noticed us.

WIDOW.
Marry, screw you!

MARIANA.
And your politeness, for a carry-ring!

[Exit Bertram, Parolles, Officers and Soldiers.]

WIDOW.
The group has moved on. Come, traveler, I will take you
To where you can stay; there are four or five
Other pilgrims heading to the great Saint James,
Already at my place.

HELENA.
I sincerely thank you.
May this lady and this kind young woman
Dine with us tonight; the expense and gratitude
Will be on me; and, to repay you further,
I will share some teachings about this young woman,
Worth remembering.

BOTH.
We’ll graciously accept your offer.

[Exit.]

Enter Bertram and two French Lords.

FIRST LORD.
No, my good lord, let him do what he wants; give him his way.

SECOND LORD.
If you don't see him as a coward, then don't hold me in any regard.

FIRST LORD.
Honestly, my lord, it’s just a bubble.

BERTRAM.
Do you really think I'm that fooled by him?

FIRST LORD.
Believe me, my lord, from my personal experience, and without any ill will, I can tell you as a relative that he’s a really remarkable coward, an endless liar, someone who breaks promises every hour, and he doesn’t possess a single good quality that would be worth your time, my lord.

SECOND LORD.
You should know him; otherwise, if you trust too much in his virtue, which he doesn't have, he might let you down on an important task when it really matters.

BERTRAM.
I wish I knew which specific action to test him on.

SECOND LORD.
There's no one better than to let him go get his drum, which you hear him confidently say he will do.

FIRST LORD.
I’ll have a group of Florentines surprise him out of nowhere. I’ll make sure to include people he doesn’t recognize as enemies; we’ll bind him and blindfold him so he thinks he’s being taken to the enemy camp when we actually bring him to our own tents. Just have your lordship there for his questioning; if he doesn’t, out of fear for his life and under extreme pressure, try to betray you and give up all the information he has against you, even swearing on his soul, then don’t trust my judgment on anything.

SECOND LORD.
Oh, for the sake of laughter, let him get his drum; he says he has a plan for it. When you see the outcome of his success and what kind of material this fake lump of ore will turn into, if you don’t give him John Drum’s welcome, your interest won’t change. Here he comes.

Enter Parolles.

FIRST LORD.
Oh, for the love of laughter, don't ruin the honor of his plan: let him carry his drum however he wants.

BERTRAM.
What's up, man! This drum is really bothering you.

SECOND LORD.
A curse on it; let it be; it’s just a drum.

PAROLLES.
But it’s just a drum! Is it really just a drum? A drum so misplaced! There was such poor leadership to charge in with our cavalry on our own troops and to tear apart our own soldiers.

SECOND LORD.
That shouldn't be blamed on the command of the service; it was a war disaster that even Caesar couldn't have prevented, if he had been there to lead.

BERTRAM.
Well, we can't really criticize our success too much: we did lose that drum, which is a bit embarrassing, but there's no way to get it back.

PAROLLES.
It could have been saved.

BERTRAM.
It could be, but it isn't right now.

PAROLLES.
It can be gotten back. But since the value of service is rarely credited to the one who does it correctly, I would prefer that drum or another, or hic jacet.

BERTRAM.
Well, if you have the guts for it, man, if you believe your clever plan can bring this honorable tool back to where it belongs, be generous in your effort and go for it; I'll support the attempt as a worthwhile endeavor. If you succeed, the duke will definitely recognize it and reward you to the fullest extent of your worth.

PAROLLES.
I swear as a soldier, I’ll take it on.

BERTRAM.
But you can't just sleep on it now.

PAROLLES.
I'll take care of it this evening; and I'll write down my problems right away, boost my confidence, get myself ready; and by midnight, expect to hear more from me.

BERTRAM.
Can I be bold enough to let his grace know that you've gone ahead with it?

PAROLLES.
I’m not sure what the outcome will be, my lord, but I promise to make the effort.

BERTRAM.
I know you're brave, and I believe in your ability as a soldier. Take care.

PAROLLES.
I don’t love many words.

[Leave.]

FIRST LORD.
No more than a fish loves water. Isn't this a strange guy, my lord, who confidently takes on this task, even though he knows it can't be done; he damn himself to try, and would rather be damned than actually do it.

SECOND LORD.
You don't know him, my lord, like we do; it's clear that he will win a man's favor, and for a week he’ll avoid a lot of discoveries, but once you see through him, you'll have him for good.

BERTRAM.
Why do you think he won't take any action on this, given how seriously he is approaching it?

FIRST LORD.
No one in the world; but come back with an idea, and throw two or three believable lies at him; we’ve almost trapped him; you’ll see his downfall tonight; because he really isn’t deserving of your lordship’s respect.

SECOND LORD.
We'll have some fun with the fox before we catch him. The old Lord Lafew was the first to figure him out; once his disguise is off, just wait and see what a fool he’ll be; you’ll see it for yourself tonight.

FIRST LORD.
I need to check on my traps. He’s going to be caught.

BERTRAM.
Your brother will come with me.

FIRST LORD.
If it pleases you, my lord. I’ll take my leave.

[Log out.]

BERTRAM.
Now I'll take you to the house and show you
The girl I mentioned.

SECOND LORD.
But you say she's genuine.

BERTRAM.
That’s the whole problem. I talked to her just once,
And I found her pretty distant, but I sent her
Through this same fool we have in the mix
Messages and letters that she sent back,
And that’s all I’ve done. She’s a beautiful girl;
Do you want to go see her?

SECOND LORD.
Definitely, my lord.

[They exit.]

Enter Helena and Widow.

HELENA.
If you doubt that I’m really her,
I don’t know how else I can prove it to you,
But I will lose the support I rely on.

WIDOW.
Even though I’ve lost my wealth, I come from a good background,
I’m not familiar with this kind of work,
And I won't risk my reputation now
By getting involved in anything damaging.

HELENA.
I wouldn't want you to doubt me.
First, you need to trust me; the count is my husband,
And everything I've shared with your sworn counsel
Is exactly as I said it; and then you won't,
With the good help I ask from you,
Make a mistake in giving it.

WIDOW.
I should trust you,
Because you've shown me something that clearly proves
You're doing really well.

HELENA.
Take this bag of gold,
And let me buy your help so far,
Which I will pay back, and then some,
When I’ve found it. The count is pursuing your daughter
And is laying siege to her beauty,
Determined to win her over; let her agree,
As we’ll guide her on the best way to handle it.
Now, his noble blood won’t deny
What she will ask for; a ring the count wears,
Which has been passed down in his family
From son to son, for about four or five generations
Since the first father wore it. He values this ring
Very highly; yet, in his impulsive passion,
To buy her approval, it wouldn’t seem too costly,
Even if he regrets it later.

WIDOW.
Now I see
The true reason behind what you want.

HELENA.
So you think it's okay then; it’s nothing more
Than that your daughter, before she appears to be won,
Wants this ring; sets up a meeting;
In the end, she hands me over to pass the time,
While she remains completely chaste and absent. After that,
To marry her, I’ll add three thousand crowns
To what has already been given.

WIDOW.
I have given in.
Teach my daughter how she should keep going,
So that time and place with this deceit, so legitimate,
Can make sense. Every night he shows up
With all kinds of music and songs written
To highlight her unworthiness: it doesn't help us
To yell at him from our doorstep; he keeps going
As if his life depends on it.

HELENA.
So then tonight
Let's try our plan; which, if it works,
Is a wicked idea in a legal act,
And a legal idea in a legal act,
Where neither is sin, and yet it’s a sinful thing.
But let’s get on with it.

[Exit.]

Enter first Lord with five or six Troops in ambush.

FIRST LORD.
He can only come through this hedge-corner. When you confront him, use any harsh words you like; it doesn't matter if you don't get it yourselves, because we shouldn't appear to understand him unless we have someone among us who can act as an interpreter.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

FIRST LORD.
Aren't you familiar with him? Doesn't he recognize your voice?

FIRST SOLDIER.
No sir, I promise you.

FIRST LORD.
But what nonsense do you have to say to us now?

FIRST SOLDIER.
Just like you're talking to me.

FIRST LORD.
He probably thinks we’re just a bunch of strangers at the enemy’s gathering. Now he’s got a bit of an understanding of all the local languages, so we each need to stick to our own style; not knowing what we’re saying to each other, while acting like we do, reveals our true intentions: a chough’s chatter is enough and good enough. And you, interpreter, need to act very clever. But hush, here he comes; ready to waste two hours napping and then come back to swear by the lies he’s made up.

Enter Parolles.

PAROLLES.
Ten o’clock. In the next three hours, it’ll be time to head home. What can I say I’ve done? It needs to be a really convincing story to work. They’re starting to catch on to me, and I’ve had too many humiliations knocking at my door lately. I realize my mouth is too reckless, but my heart is scared of Mars and his followers, not wanting to face the consequences of my words.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] This is the first thing your own tongue has ever been guilty of.

PAROLLES.
What on earth would make me try to get this drum back, knowing it’s impossible and that I have no intention of doing so? I could hurt myself and claim I got them in some adventure, but if they’re just minor injuries, people will say, “You got hurt for that little?” and I can’t afford to take serious risks. So, what’s the point? I need to keep my mouth shut and not get myself into these troubles.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] Is it possible for him to know who he is and be who he is?

PAROLLES.
I wish that cutting my clothes would do the trick, or that I could break my Spanish sword.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] We can’t give you that much.

PAROLLES.
Or the shaving of my beard, and to claim it was a tactic.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] That wouldn’t work.

PAROLLES.
Or to ruin my clothes and claim I was stripped.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] Barely serve.

PAROLLES.
Even though I promised I jumped out of the window of the fortress,—

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] How deep is it?

Thirty fathoms.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] Three big promises would hardly make anyone believe that.

PAROLLES.
I wish I had any enemy's drum; I would swear I got it back.

FIRST LORD.
[Aside.] You'll hear one soon.

PAROLLES.
There's a drum from the enemy now!

[Alarm inside.]

FIRST LORD.
Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

ALL.
Cargo, cargo, cargo, vile by nature, cargo.

They grab him and blindfold him.

PAROLLES.
Oh, ransom, ransom! Don't hide my eyes.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Boskos thromuldo boskos.

PAROLLES.
I know you’re part of the Muskos’ regiment,
And I’m going to lose my life because I can’t communicate.
If there’s a German, Dane, Dutch,
Italian, or French speaker here, let him talk to me,
I’ll reveal something that will ruin the Florentine.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Boskos vauvado. I get you, and I can speak your language. Kerelybonto. Sir, Stick to your faith, because there are seventeen daggers at your chest.

PAROLLES.
Oh!

FIRST SOLDIER.
Oh, please, please, please!
Manka revania dulche.

FIRST LORD.
Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

FIRST SOLDIER.
The General is willing to let you go for now;
And, blind as you are, will guide you on
To extract information from you. Maybe you can share
Something that could save your life.

PAROLLES.
Oh, let me live,
And I’ll reveal all the secrets of our camp,
Their strength, their intentions; in fact, I’ll share things
That will leave you amazed.

FIRST SOLDIER.
But will you be faithful?

PAROLLES.
If I don't, damn me.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Wake up now.
Come on; you have room to move.

[Exit, with Parolles on guard.]

A brief alarm inside.

FIRST LORD.
Go tell Count Rossillon and my brother
We’ve caught the woodcock and will keep him covered
Until we hear from them.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Captain, I'm on it.

FIRST LORD.
'A will betray us all to ourselves;
Let’s find out about that.

SECOND SOLDIER.
Sure thing, sir.

FIRST LORD.
Until then, I’ll keep him hidden and safely locked away.

[Exit.]

Enter Bertram and Diana.

BERTRAM.
They told me your name was Fontybell.

Diana.
No, my good lord, Diana.

BERTRAM.
Titled goddess;
And you really deserve it! But, dear soul,
In your beautiful form does love have no essence?
If the passionate fire of youth doesn't spark your mind,
You are not a maiden but a statue;
When you’re gone, you should be just like now;
For you are cold and unyielding,
And you should be like your mother was
When your lovely self was conceived.

DIANA.
She was honest then.

You should be too.

DIANA.
No.
My mother just did her duty; just like, my lord,
What you owe to your wife.

BERTRAM.
No more of that!
Please don’t fight against my promises;
I was forced into that, but I love you
Out of love’s own sweet pressure, and I will forever
Do everything you deserve.

DIANA.
Yeah, so you help us
Until we help you; but when you take our roses,
You hardly leave us with our thorns to hurt ourselves,
And tease us with our emptiness.

How have I sworn?

DIANA.
It’s not the many oaths that make the truth,
But the simple, honest vow that is truly made.
We don’t swear by what isn’t sacred,
But call upon the highest to witness: so, please tell me,
If I were to swear by Jove’s great qualities
That I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths
When I didn’t love you at all? That doesn’t make sense,
To swear by the one I claim to love
That I will act against him. So your oaths
Are just words and weak promises; but revealed,—
At least in my view.

BERTRAM.
Change it, change it.
Don't be so cruel under the guise of holiness. Love is pure;
And my honesty has never engaged in the tricks
That you accuse men of. Don’t keep your distance,
But give yourself to my desperate needs,
Which will then heal. Say you are mine, and forever
My love will endure just as it starts.

DIANA.
I see that guys get their hopes up in situations like this,
Thinking we’ll lose ourselves. Hand me that ring.

BERTRAM.
I’ll lend it to you, my dear, but I can’t truly give it away.

DIANA.
Will you not, my lord?

BERTRAM.
It’s an honor belonging to our family,
Passed down from many ancestors,
Which would be the biggest disgrace in the world
For me to lose.

DIANA.
My honor is like a ring;
My purity is the treasure of our family,
Handed down from many ancestors,
Who would be greatly ashamed if I lost it.
So your own wisdom
Defends my honor against your empty attack.

BERTRAM.
Here, take my ring;
My home, my honor, yes, my life is yours,
And I’ll do whatever you ask.

DIANA.
When midnight comes, knock at my window;
I’ll make sure my mother won't hear.
Now I’ll charge you by the bond of truth,
When you’ve conquered my still maiden-bed,
Stay there for just an hour, and don’t speak to me.
My reasons are very strong; and you’ll understand them
When this ring is returned to me;
And on your finger in the night, I’ll put
Another ring, so that whatever happens next
May signify our past actions.
Goodbye for now; don’t forget. You’ve won
A wife in me, though my hope may be gone.

BERTRAM.
I’ve won a little piece of heaven on earth by winning your love.

[Log out.]

DIANA.
So let's live long enough to thank both heaven and me!
You might, in the end.
My mom told me exactly how he would court,
As if she could see into his heart. She says all men
Make the same promises. He swore he’d marry me
Once his wife is gone; so I’ll be with him
When I’m buried. Since Frenchmen are so bold,
Let him marry whoever he wants, I’ll live and die a single woman.
Only, in this disguise, I don’t think it’s a sin
To trick him who would win me unfairly.

Exit.

Enter the two French Lords and two or three Troops.

FIRST LORD.
Haven't you given him his mom's letter?

SECOND LORD.
I delivered it an hour ago; there’s something in it that really gets to him; because when he read it, he almost transformed into a different person.

FIRST LORD.
He has a lot of criticism directed at him for leaving behind such a good wife and such a lovely lady.

SECOND LORD.
Especially, he has earned the lasting anger of the king, who even tuned his generosity to bring him happiness. I will share something with you, but you must keep it to yourself.

FIRST LORD.
Once you say it, it's done, and I’m the one who buries it.

SECOND LORD.
He has corrupted a young woman here in Florence, known for her purity, and tonight he's planning to take advantage of her honor; he’s given her his significant ring and believes himself to be successful in his immoral intentions.

FIRST LORD.
Now, God postpone our rebellion! As we are, what are we!

SECOND LORD.
Just our own traitors. And like in every betrayal, we still see them show their true colors until they reach their disgusting goals; so the one who plots against his own nobility ultimately ends up drowning in his own schemes.

FIRST LORD.
Isn’t it disgraceful for us to announce our illegal plans? So we won’t have him with us tonight?

SECOND LORD.
Not until after midnight; he's on a schedule for his meals.

FIRST LORD.
That's coming up quickly. I would really like him to see his group closely examined, so he could assess his own judgments, in which he has so carefully set this fake.

SECOND LORD.
We won’t get involved with him until he arrives; his presence has to be the motivation for the others.

FIRST LORD.
In the meantime, what have you heard about these wars?

SECOND LORD.
I hear there’s a proposal for peace.

FIRST LORD.
No, I assure you, we have reached an agreement for peace.

SECOND LORD.
What will Count Rossillon do then? Will he go further away, or come back to France?

FIRST LORD.
I can tell from this request that you’re not fully in his inner circle.

SECOND LORD.
That shouldn't be allowed, sir! Otherwise, I'd be very much like him.

FIRST LORD.
Sir, his wife ran away from home about two months ago. She claimed she was going on a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; she completed that holy mission with great seriousness, but while she was there, her sensitive nature succumbed to her sorrow. In the end, she took her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

SECOND LORD.
How is this justified?

FIRST LORD.
The stronger part of it comes from her own letters, which proves her story is true, even down to the details of her death. Her death itself, which she couldn't announce herself, was confirmed by the rector of the area.

SECOND LORD.
Does the count have all this information?

FIRST LORD.
Yes, and the specific confirmations, point by point, to the complete support of the truth.

SECOND LORD.
I really regret that he’ll be happy about this.

FIRST LORD.
Sometimes we turn our losses into great comforts for ourselves!

SECOND LORD.
And how often we wash away our victories with tears! The great honor his bravery has earned him here will be met at home with a shame just as big.

FIRST LORD.
Life is a mix of good and bad; our virtues would be arrogant if they weren’t held back by our flaws, and our wrongdoings would lose hope if they weren’t supported by our virtues.

Enter a Messenger.

Hey, where's your boss?

MESSENGER.
He ran into the duke on the street, sir; he has taken a formal leave of him: his lordship is heading to France tomorrow morning. The duke has given him letters of recommendation to the king.

SECOND LORD.
They shouldn't be there any more than necessary, if they’re more than they can justify.

Enter Bertram.

FIRST LORD.
They can't be too sweet for the king's bitterness. Here comes his lordship now. What's up, my lord, is it not after midnight?

BERTRAM.
Tonight, I’ve wrapped up sixteen tasks, each a month long; to sum it up: I’ve said goodbye to the duke, taken my leave from his closest ones, buried my wife, mourned her, written to my mother that I’m coming back, hosted my escort, and in between these major tasks, I’ve handled many smaller necessities: the last one was the biggest, but I’m still not finished with that.

SECOND LORD.
If the task is challenging and you're leaving soon this morning, you need to hurry, my lord.

BERTRAM.
I mean the business isn't finished, as I'm worried about hearing about it later. But should we have this conversation between the Fool and the Soldier? Come on, bring out this fake idiot who's tricked me like a two-faced prophet.

SECOND LORD.
Bring him out.

[Exit Soldiers.]

Has been stuck in the stocks all night, poor brave guy.

BERTRAM.
No matter; he brought this on himself by wearing his spurs for so long. How is he handling it?

FIRST LORD.
I've already told you, my lord; he's in the stocks. But to put it in a way you can understand: he cries like a girl who's lost her milk; he has confessed everything to Morgan, who he thinks is a friar, from the time he can remember up until this moment of being put in the stocks. And what do you think he confessed?

BERTRAM.
He doesn't have anything of mine, does he?

SECOND LORD.
His confession has been recorded, and it will be read to him directly; if you’re involved in this, as I believe you are, you need to be patient and listen.

Enter Soldiers with Parolles.

BERTRAM.
Curse him! He’s quiet! He can’t say anything about me; quiet, quiet!

FIRST LORD.
Hoodman is here! Portotartarossa.

FIRST SOLDIER.
He’s asking for the torture. What will you say without it?

PAROLLES.
I will admit what I know openly. If you poke me like a pastry, I can’t say anything more.

Bosko chimurcho.

Boblibindo chicurmurco.

FIRST SOLDIER.
You are a kind general. Our general asks you to respond to what I’m going to ask from a note.

PAROLLES.
And honestly, as I hope to live.

FIRST SOLDIER.
"First, ask him how many horses the duke has." What do you think about that?

PAROLLES.
Five or six thousand, but they’re really weak and useless: the troops are all spread out, and the commanders are a bunch of pathetic losers, I swear on my reputation and my life.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Should I write down your answer like this?

PAROLLES.
Sure. I’ll swear on it, however you want.

BERTRAM.
It’s all the same to him. What a time-saving guy he is!

FIRST LORD.
You’re mistaken, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles, the brave soldier (that’s what he called himself), who had all the theories of war tied up in his scarf and the practical skills in the blade of his dagger.

SECOND LORD.
I will never trust a man again just because he keeps his sword clean, nor believe that he has everything it takes just because he dresses well.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Well, that’s decided.

PAROLLES.
‘Five or six thousand horses,’ I said—I’ll be honest—or something like that, counted,—because I’m speaking the truth.

FIRST LORD.
He's very close to the truth in this.

BERTRAM.
But I don't owe him any thanks for how he delivers it.

PAROLLES.
Poor fools, I ask you to say.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Well, that's settled.

PAROLLES.
I sincerely thank you, sir; a truth is a truth, those guys are incredibly broke.

FIRST SOLDIER.
‘Ask him how many troops they have on the ground.’ What do you think about that?

PAROLLES.
Honestly, sir, if I were to live through this hour, I will speak the truth. Let me see: Spurio, one hundred and fifty; Sebastian, that many; Corambus, that many; Jaques, that many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; my own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each: so the muster file, both in bad and good condition, I swear, doesn’t add up to fifteen thousand people; half of whom wouldn’t dare shake the snow off their pants for fear of falling apart.

BERTRAM.
What should we do about him?

FIRST LORD.
Nothing, just let him be thanked. Ask him about my situation and what reputation I have with the duke.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Well, that’s decided. ‘You should ask him if Captain Dumaine, a Frenchman, is in the camp; what his reputation is with the duke, what his bravery, honesty, and skill in battle are; or if he thinks it would be possible to bribe him with a substantial amount of gold to betray us.’ What do you think about this? What do you know about it?

PAROLLES.
I ask you, please let me respond to each of the questions individually. Ask them one at a time.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Do you know this Captain Dumaine?

PAROLLES.
I know him: he was a tailor's apprentice in Paris, where he got whipped for making a pregnant woman out of the town fool, someone who couldn’t refuse him.

First Minister raises his hand in anger.

BERTRAM.
No, with all due respect, keep your hands to yourself; even though I know his mind is at risk the moment the next tile drops.

FIRST SOLDIER.
So, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp?

PAROLLES.
Honestly, he is, and he's a creep.

FIRST LORD.
No, don’t look at me like that; we will hear about your lordship soon.

FIRST SOLDIER.
What's his reputation with the duke?

PAROLLES.
The duke knows him as nothing more than a lowly officer of mine and wrote to me the other day to kick him out of the unit. I think I have his letter in my pocket.

Sure, we’ll search.

PAROLLES.
Honestly, I have no idea; either it's here or it's in a folder with the duke's other letters, in my tent.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Here it is; here’s a paper; should I read it to you?

PAROLLES.
I don’t know if it is or isn’t.

BERTRAM.
Our translator does it well.

FIRST LORD.
Awesome.

FIRST SOLDIER.
[Reads.] Dian, the Count is an idiot and loaded with money.

PAROLLES.
That's not the duke’s letter, sir; that's a notice for a nice girl in Florence, a woman named Diana, to watch out for the advances of Count Rossillon, a silly, lazy guy, but still quite the womanizer. Please, sir, put it away again.

FIRST SOLDIER.
No, I’ll read it first if you don’t mind.

PAROLLES.
I swear my intention was completely honest on behalf of the girl; because I knew the young count to be a reckless and lustful guy, who is a monster to virginity, and consumes every innocent girl he encounters.

BERTRAM.
Damnable rogue on both sides!

FIRST SOLDIER.
[Reads.]
When he makes promises, tell him to drop some cash and take it;
After he wins, he never pays his debts.
Half won is a good match; match it, and make it good;
He never pays his debts afterward, so take it upfront.
And say a soldier, ‘Dian,’ told you this:
Men are to mess with, boys are not to kiss;
Because of this, the count is a fool, I know it,
Who pays before but not when he owes it.
Yours, as he promised you in your ear,
                                     PAROLLES.

BERTRAM.
He will be punished in front of the army with this rhyme on his forehead.

SECOND LORD.
This is your loyal friend, sir, the versatile linguist, and the powerful warrior.

BERTRAM.
I could handle anything before, but a cat? Now he’s just a cat to me.

FIRST SOLDIER.
I can see, sir, from our general’s expression that we’ll probably have to hang you.

PAROLLES.
My life, sir, in any case. It’s not that I’m afraid to die, but I have so many wrongs that I would like to make up for the rest of my days. Just let me live, sir, whether it’s in a dungeon, in stocks, or anywhere, as long as I can live.

FIRST SOLDIER.
We’ll see what we can do, so you can admit everything openly. So, once again, about this Captain Dumaine: you’ve defended his reputation with the duke and his bravery. What about his honesty?

PAROLLES.
He’ll steal an egg from a cloister, sir: when it comes to rape and assault, he’s just as bad as Nessus. He doesn’t care about keeping oaths; when he breaks them, he’s stronger than Hercules. He lies so smoothly, sir, that you’d think the truth was stupid: his best trait is his drunkenness, since he gets completely wasted, and while he’s sleeping, he doesn’t cause much trouble except for messing up his bedclothes; but they know how he is and just put him on straw. I don’t have much more to say about his honesty, sir; he has everything an honest man shouldn’t have, and the things an honest man should have, he doesn’t have at all.

FIRST LORD.
I'm starting to like him for this.

BERTRAM.
For this description of your honesty? Curse him for me, he’s becoming more and more a coward.

FIRST SOLDIER.
What do you think of his skills in battle?

PAROLLES.
Honestly, sir, has been the drum major for the English actors—I'm not going to slander him—and I don't know much else about his military experience, except in that country he had the honor of being an officer at a place called Mile-end, where he taught how to double the lines. I want to give the man the respect he deserves, but I'm not sure about this.

FIRST LORD.
He has become such a villain that it’s so unusual it makes him almost redeemable.

BERTRAM.
Curse him! He's still a coward.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Since his qualities are so cheap, I don't need to ask if money will entice him to betray us.

PAROLLES.
Sir, for a quarter of an ecu, he'll sell you the full ownership of his salvation, the rights to it, remove all restrictions, and ensure it's passed down forever.

FIRST SOLDIER.
What about his brother, Captain Dumaine?

SECOND LORD.
Why does he ask about me?

FIRST SOLDIER.
What's he?

PAROLLES.
He's just a crow from the same nest; not quite as good as the first, but definitely worse in terms of bad behavior. He's a bigger coward than his brother, yet his brother is considered one of the best. When it comes to running away, he outpaces any servant; however, when charging forward, he gets all cramped up.

FIRST SOLDIER.
If your life is spared, will you agree to betray the Florentine?

PAROLLES.
Yeah, and the captain of his horse, Count Rossillon.

FIRST SOLDIER.
I’ll talk to the general and find out what he wants.

PAROLLES.
[Aside.] I’m done with drumming; curse all drums! Just to look like I deserve it and to trick that lustful young guy, the count, I've put myself in this risky situation: but who would have thought there was a trap where I got caught?

FIRST SOLDIER.
There’s no way around it, sir; you have to die. The general says that you’ve treasonously revealed the secrets of your army and made harmful accusations against honorable men, so you can’t be trusted to live. Therefore, you must die. Come on, executioner, take off his head.

PAROLLES.
Oh Lord! Sir, let me live or let me witness my own death.

FIRST SOLDIER.
You should do that, and say goodbye to all your friends.

Unmute him.

So, take a look around; do you know anyone here?

BERTRAM.
Good morning, noble captain.

SECOND LORD.
God bless you, Captain Parolles.

FIRST LORD.
God bless you, noble captain.

SECOND LORD.
Captain, what message do you have for my Lord Lafew? I'm heading to France.

FIRST LORD.
Hey Captain, can you give me a copy of the sonnet you wrote to Diana for Count Rossillon? If I weren't such a coward, I'd demand it from you; but take care.