giovedì 16 gennaio 2014

WST/4/04. § 4. William Shakespeare Teatro Completo: 1°. All’s Well That Ends Well: d) Act III.

Versione unica
Libero adattamento per finalità autodidattiche di testi e registrazioni di pubblico dominio tratti da Librivox. Acoustical liberation of books in the public domain. Opere complete di William Shakespeare. Nostra numerazione del Brano: 4. Teatro: All’s Well That Ends Well (1603). Testo derivato dal "Gutenberg Project e registrazione da Librivox.org. Serie: 04 Act III. Reader: Group: download oppure Internet Archive Page  su “Act III” (4).  Etext: Gutenberg Online.  - Dizionari: Dicios; Sansoni. Link: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
↓  Bottom.

§ 4.
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Act III

SCENE 1. → 2. 3.

 
Florence. The Duke’s palace.
ACT III
SCENE I. Florence. The DUKE's palace.

    Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence attended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers.

DUKE

    So that from point to point now have you heard
    The fundamental reasons of this war,
    Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
    And more thirsts after.

First Lord

    Holy seems the quarrel
    Upon your grace's part; black and fearful
    On the opposer.

DUKE

    Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
    Would in so just a business shut his bosom
    Against our borrowing prayers.

Second Lord

    Good my lord,
    The reasons of our state I cannot yield,
    But like a common and an outward man,
    That the great figure of a council frames
    By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
    Say what I think of it, since I have found
    Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
    As often as I guess'd.

DUKE

    Be it his pleasure.

First Lord

    But I am sure the younger of our nature,
    That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
    Come here for physic.

DUKE

    Welcome shall they be;
    And all the honours that can fly from us
    Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
    When better fall, for your avails they fell:
    To-morrow to the field.

    Flourish. Exeunt

SCENE 2. → 3. 4.

 
Roussillon. The Count’s palace.


SCENE II. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

    Enter COUNTESS and Clown

COUNTESS

    It hath happened all as I would have had it, save
    that he comes not along with her.

Clown

    By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very
    melancholy man.

COUNTESS

    By what observance, I pray you?

Clown

    Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the
    ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his
    teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of
    melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.

COUNTESS

    Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

    Opening a letter

Clown

    I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our
    old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing
    like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court:
    the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to
    love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach.

COUNTESS

    What have we here?

Clown

    E'en that you have there.

    Exit

COUNTESS

    [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath
    recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded
    her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not'
    eternal. You shall hear I am run away: know it
    before the report come. If there be breadth enough
    in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty
    to you. Your unfortunate son,
    BERTRAM.
    This is not well, rash and unbridled boy.
    To fly the favours of so good a king;
    To pluck his indignation on thy head
    By the misprising of a maid too virtuous
    For the contempt of empire.

    Re-enter Clown

Clown

    O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two
    soldiers and my young lady!

COUNTESS

    What is the matter?

Clown

    Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
    comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I
    thought he would.

COUNTESS

    Why should he be killed?

Clown

    So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does:
    the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of
    men, though it be the getting of children. Here
    they come will tell you more: for my part, I only
    hear your son was run away.

    Exit

    Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen

First Gentleman

    Save you, good madam.

HELENA

    Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.

Second Gentleman

    Do not say so.

COUNTESS

    Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen,
    I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
    That the first face of neither, on the start,
    Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you?

Second Gentleman

    Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence:
    We met him thitherward; for thence we came,
    And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
    Thither we bend again.

HELENA

    Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport.

    Reads
    When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which
    never shall come off, and show me a child begotten
    of thy body that I am father to, then call me
    husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.'
    This is a dreadful sentence.

COUNTESS

    Brought you this letter, gentlemen?

First Gentleman

    Ay, madam;
    And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain.

COUNTESS

    I prithee, lady, have a better cheer;
    If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
    Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son;
    But I do wash his name out of my blood,
    And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he?

Second Gentleman

    Ay, madam.

COUNTESS

    And to be a soldier?

Second Gentleman

    Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't,
    The duke will lay upon him all the honour
    That good convenience claims.

COUNTESS

    Return you thither?

First Gentleman

    Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.

HELENA

    [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.
    'Tis bitter.

COUNTESS

    Find you that there?

HELENA

    Ay, madam.

First Gentleman

    'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his
    heart was not consenting to.

COUNTESS

    Nothing in France, until he have no wife!
    There's nothing here that is too good for him
    But only she; and she deserves a lord
    That twenty such rude boys might tend upon
    And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him?

First Gentleman

    A servant only, and a gentleman
    Which I have sometime known.

COUNTESS

    Parolles, was it not?

First Gentleman

    Ay, my good lady, he.

COUNTESS

    A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
    My son corrupts a well-derived nature
    With his inducement.

First Gentleman

    Indeed, good lady,
    The fellow has a deal of that too much,
    Which holds him much to have.

COUNTESS

    You're welcome, gentlemen.
    I will entreat you, when you see my son,
    To tell him that his sword can never win
    The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you
    Written to bear along.

Second Gentleman

    We serve you, madam,
    In that and all your worthiest affairs.

COUNTESS

    Not so, but as we change our courtesies.
    Will you draw near!

    Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen

HELENA

    'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
    Nothing in France, until he has no wife!
    Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France;
    Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I
    That chase thee from thy country and expose
    Those tender limbs of thine to the event
    Of the none-sparing war? and is it I
    That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
    Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
    Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
    That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
    Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air,
    That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
    Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
    Whoever charges on his forward breast,
    I am the caitiff that do hold him to't;
    And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
    His death was so effected: better 'twere
    I met the ravin lion when he roar'd
    With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
    That all the miseries which nature owes
    Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
    Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
    As oft it loses all: I will be gone;
    My being here it is that holds thee hence:
    Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
    The air of paradise did fan the house
    And angels officed all: I will be gone,
    That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
    To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day!
    For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away.

    Exit
SCENE 3. → 4. 5.

 
Florence. Before the Duke’s palace.

SCENE III. Florence. Before the DUKE's palace.

    Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets

DUKE

    The general of our horse thou art; and we,
    Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
    Upon thy promising fortune.

BERTRAM

    Sir, it is
    A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
    We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
    To the extreme edge of hazard.

DUKE

    Then go thou forth;
    And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
    As thy auspicious mistress!

BERTRAM

    This very day,
    Great Mars, I put myself into thy file:
    Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove
    A lover of thy drum, hater of love.

    Exeunt

SCENE 4. → 5.

 
Roussillon. The Count’s palace.
SCENE IV. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

    Enter COUNTESS and Steward

COUNTESS

    Alas! and would you take the letter of her?
    Might you not know she would do as she has done,
    By sending me a letter? Read it again.

Steward

    [Reads]
    I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone:
    Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
    That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
    With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
    Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
    My dearest master, your dear son, may hie:
    Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far
    His name with zealous fervor sanctify:
    His taken labours bid him me forgive;
    I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
    From courtly friends, with camping foes to live,
    Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth:
    He is too good and fair for death and me:
    Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.

COUNTESS

    Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!
    Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
    As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her,
    I could have well diverted her intents,
    Which thus she hath prevented.

Steward

    Pardon me, madam:
    If I had given you this at over-night,
    She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes,
    Pursuit would be but vain.

COUNTESS

    What angel shall
    Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive,
    Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear
    And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
    Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,
    To this unworthy husband of his wife;
    Let every word weigh heavy of her worth
    That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief.
    Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
    Dispatch the most convenient messenger:
    When haply he shall hear that she is gone,
    He will return; and hope I may that she,
    Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
    Led hither by pure love: which of them both
    Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense
    To make distinction: provide this messenger:
    My heart is heavy and mine age is weak;
    Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.

    Exeunt
SCENE 5. → 6. 7.

 
Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off.

SCENE V. Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off.

    Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other Citizens

Widow

    Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we
    shall lose all the sight.

DIANA

    They say the French count has done most honourable service.

Widow

    It is reported that he has taken their greatest
    commander; and that with his own hand he slew the
    duke's brother.

    Tucket
    We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary
    way: hark! you may know by their trumpets.

MARIANA

    Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with
    the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this
    French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and
    no legacy is so rich as honesty.

Widow

    I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited
    by a gentleman his companion.

MARIANA

    I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a
    filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the
    young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises,
    enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of
    lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid
    hath been seduced by them; and the misery is,
    example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of
    maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession,
    but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten
    them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but
    I hope your own grace will keep you where you are,
    though there were no further danger known but the
    modesty which is so lost.

DIANA

    You shall not need to fear me.

Widow

    I hope so.

    Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim
    Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at
    my house; thither they send one another: I'll
    question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound?

HELENA

    To Saint Jaques le Grand.
    Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you?

Widow

    At the Saint Francis here beside the port.

HELENA

    Is this the way?

Widow

    Ay, marry, is't.

    A march afar
    Hark you! they come this way.
    If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,
    But till the troops come by,
    I will conduct you where you shall be lodged;
    The rather, for I think I know your hostess
    As ample as myself.

HELENA

    Is it yourself?

Widow

    If you shall please so, pilgrim.

HELENA

    I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.

Widow

    You came, I think, from France?

HELENA

    I did so.

Widow

    Here you shall see a countryman of yours
    That has done worthy service.

HELENA

    His name, I pray you.

DIANA

    The Count Rousillon: know you such a one?

HELENA

    But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him:
    His face I know not.

DIANA

    Whatsome'er he is,
    He's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
    As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
    Against his liking: think you it is so?

HELENA

    Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady.

DIANA

    There is a gentleman that serves the count
    Reports but coarsely of her.

HELENA

    What's his name?

DIANA

    Monsieur Parolles.

HELENA

    O, I believe with him,
    In argument of praise, or to the worth
    Of the great count himself, she is too mean
    To have her name repeated: all her deserving
    Is a reserved honesty, and that
    I have not heard examined.

DIANA

    Alas, poor lady!
    'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
    Of a detesting lord.

Widow

    I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
    Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
    A shrewd turn, if she pleased.

HELENA

    How do you mean?
    May be the amorous count solicits her
    In the unlawful purpose.

Widow

    He does indeed;
    And brokes with all that can in such a suit
    Corrupt the tender honour of a maid:
    But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard
    In honestest defence.

MARIANA

    The gods forbid else!

Widow

    So, now they come:

    Drum and Colours

    Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army
    That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son;
    That, Escalus.

HELENA

    Which is the Frenchman?

DIANA

    He;
    That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow.
    I would he loved his wife: if he were honester
    He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman?

HELENA

    I like him well.

DIANA

    'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave
    That leads him to these places: were I his lady,
    I would Poison that vile rascal.

HELENA

    Which is he?

DIANA

    That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy?

HELENA

    Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.

PAROLLES

    Lose our drum! well.

MARIANA

    He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us.

Widow

    Marry, hang you!

MARIANA

    And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier!

    Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army

Widow

    The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you
    Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents
    There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
    Already at my house.

HELENA

    I humbly thank you:
    Please it this matron and this gentle maid
    To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking
    Shall be for me; and, to requite you further,
    I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
    Worthy the note.

BOTH

    We'll take your offer kindly.

    Exeunt
SCENE 6. → 7.

 
Camp before Florence.

SCENE VI. Camp before Florence.

    Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords

Second Lord

    Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his
    way.

First Lord

    If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no
    more in your respect.

Second Lord

    On my life, my lord, a bubble.

BERTRAM

    Do you think I am so far deceived in him?

Second Lord

    Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge,
    without any malice, but to speak of him as my
    kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and
    endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner
    of no one good quality worthy your lordship's
    entertainment.

First Lord

    It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in
    his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some
    great and trusty business in a main danger fail you.

BERTRAM

    I would I knew in what particular action to try him.

First Lord

    None better than to let him fetch off his drum,
    which you hear him so confidently undertake to do.

Second Lord

    I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly
    surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he
    knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink
    him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he
    is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when
    we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship
    present at his examination: if he do not, for the
    promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of
    base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the
    intelligence in his power against you, and that with
    the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never
    trust my judgment in any thing.

First Lord

    O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum;
    he says he has a stratagem for't: when your
    lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to
    what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be
    melted, if you give him not John Drum's
    entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed.
    Here he comes.

    Enter PAROLLES

Second Lord

    [Aside to BERTRAM] O, for the love of laughter,
    hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch
    off his drum in any hand.

BERTRAM

    How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your
    disposition.

First Lord

    A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum.

PAROLLES

    'But a drum'! is't 'but a drum'? A drum so lost!
    There was excellent command,--to charge in with our
    horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers!

First Lord

    That was not to be blamed in the command of the
    service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar
    himself could not have prevented, if he had been
    there to command.

BERTRAM

    Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some
    dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is
    not to be recovered.

PAROLLES

    It might have been recovered.

BERTRAM

    It might; but it is not now.

PAROLLES

    It is to be recovered: but that the merit of
    service is seldom attributed to the true and exact
    performer, I would have that drum or another, or
    'hic jacet.'

BERTRAM

    Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if you
    think your mystery in stratagem can bring this
    instrument of honour again into his native quarter,
    be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will
    grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you
    speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it.
    and extend to you what further becomes his
    greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your
    worthiness.

PAROLLES

    By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.

BERTRAM

    But you must not now slumber in it.

PAROLLES

    I'll about it this evening: and I will presently
    pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my
    certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation;
    and by midnight look to hear further from me.

BERTRAM

    May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it?

PAROLLES

    I know not what the success will be, my lord; but
    the attempt I vow.

BERTRAM

    I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of
    thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.

PAROLLES

    I love not many words.

    Exit

Second Lord

    No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a
    strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems
    to undertake this business, which he knows is not to
    be done; damns himself to do and dares better be
    damned than to do't?

First Lord

    You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it
    is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and
    for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but
    when you find him out, you have him ever after.

BERTRAM

    Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of
    this that so seriously he does address himself unto?

Second Lord

    None in the world; but return with an invention and
    clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we
    have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall
    to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect.

First Lord

    We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case
    him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu:
    when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a
    sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this
    very night.

Second Lord

    I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught.

BERTRAM

    Your brother he shall go along with me.

Second Lord

    As't please your lordship: I'll leave you.

    Exit

BERTRAM

    Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
    The lass I spoke of.

First Lord

    But you say she's honest.

BERTRAM

    That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once
    And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her,
    By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,
    Tokens and letters which she did re-send;
    And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature:
    Will you go see her?

First Lord

    With all my heart, my lord.

    Exeunt

SCENE 7. → 8.

 
Florence. The Widow’s house.

SCENE VII. Florence. The Widow's house.

    Enter HELENA and Widow

HELENA

    If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
    I know not how I shall assure you further,
    But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

Widow

    Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
    Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
    And would not put my reputation now
    In any staining act.

HELENA

    Nor would I wish you.
    First, give me trust, the count he is my husband,
    And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken
    Is so from word to word; and then you cannot,
    By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
    Err in bestowing it.

Widow

    I should believe you:
    For you have show'd me that which well approves
    You're great in fortune.

HELENA

    Take this purse of gold,
    And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
    Which I will over-pay and pay again
    When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter,
    Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
    Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent,
    As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.
    Now his important blood will nought deny
    That she'll demand: a ring the county wears,
    That downward hath succeeded in his house
    From son to son, some four or five descents
    Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds
    In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire,
    To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
    Howe'er repented after.

Widow

    Now I see
    The bottom of your purpose.

HELENA

    You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
    But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
    Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;
    In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
    Herself most chastely absent: after this,
    To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
    To what is passed already.

Widow

    I have yielded:
    Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,
    That time and place with this deceit so lawful
    May prove coherent. Every night he comes
    With musics of all sorts and songs composed
    To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us
    To chide him from our eaves; for he persists
    As if his life lay on't.

HELENA

    Why then to-night
    Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
    Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed
    And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
    Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:
    But let's about it.

    Exeunt
  Top. 

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