giovedì 16 gennaio 2014

WST/6/06. § 6. William Shakespeare Teatro Completo: 1°. All’s Well That Ends Well: f) Act V.

Homepage /§§  57 / Lessico
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: 6. Teatro: All’s Well That Ends Well (1603). Testo derivato dal "Gutenberg Project e registrazione da Librivox.org. Serie: 06 Act V. Reader: Martin Geeson / Brett W. Downey: download oppure Internet Archive Page  su “Act V” (6).  Etext: Gutenberg Online.  - Dizionari: Dicios; Sansoni. Link: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
↓  Bottom.

§ 6.
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Act V

SCENE 1. → 2. 3.

Marseilles. A street

ACT V
SCENE I. Marseilles. A street.

    Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants

HELENA

    But this exceeding posting day and night
    Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it:
    But since you have made the days and nights as one,
    To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
    Be bold you do so grow in my requital
    As nothing can unroot you. In happy time;

    Enter a Gentleman
    This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
    If he would spend his power. God save you, sir.

Gentleman

    And you.

HELENA

    Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

Gentleman

    I have been sometimes there.

HELENA

    I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
    From the report that goes upon your goodness;
    An therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
    Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
    The use of your own virtues, for the which
    I shall continue thankful.

Gentleman

    What's your will?

HELENA

    That it will please you
    To give this poor petition to the king,
    And aid me with that store of power you have
    To come into his presence.

Gentleman

    The king's not here.

HELENA

    Not here, sir!

Gentleman

    Not, indeed:
    He hence removed last night and with more haste
    Than is his use.

Widow

    Lord, how we lose our pains!

HELENA

    ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet,
    Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
    I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

Gentleman

    Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
    Whither I am going.

HELENA

    I do beseech you, sir,
    Since you are like to see the king before me,
    Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
    Which I presume shall render you no blame
    But rather make you thank your pains for it.
    I will come after you with what good speed
    Our means will make us means.

Gentleman

    This I'll do for you.

HELENA

    And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
    Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again.
    Go, go, provide.

    Exeunt
SCENE 1. → 2. 3.

Roussillon. Before the Count’s palace

SCENE II. Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace.

    Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following

PAROLLES

    Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this
    letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to
    you, when I have held familiarity with fresher
    clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's
    mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong
    displeasure.

Clown

    Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it
    smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will
    henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.
    Prithee, allow the wind.

PAROLLES

    Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake
    but by a metaphor.

Clown

    Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my
    nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get
    thee further.

PAROLLES

    Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clown

    Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's
    close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he
    comes himself.

    Enter LAFEU
    Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's
    cat,--but not a musk-cat,--that has fallen into the
    unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he
    says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the
    carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed,
    ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his
    distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to
    your lordship.

    Exit

PAROLLES

    My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
    scratched.

LAFEU

    And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to
    pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the
    knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who
    of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves
    thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for
    you: let the justices make you and fortune friends:
    I am for other business.

PAROLLES

    I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

LAFEU

    You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't;
    save your word.

PAROLLES

    My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

LAFEU

    You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion!
    give me your hand. How does your drum?

PAROLLES

    O my good lord, you were the first that found me!

LAFEU

    Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

PAROLLES

    It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace,
    for you did bring me out.

LAFEU

    Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once
    both the office of God and the devil? One brings
    thee in grace and the other brings thee out.

    Trumpets sound
    The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah,
    inquire further after me; I had talk of you last
    night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall
    eat; go to, follow.

PAROLLES

    I praise God for you.

    Exeunt

SCENE 3. → 2. 3.

Roussillon. The Count’s palace

SCENE III. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

    Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two French Lords, with Attendants

KING

    We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
    Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
    As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
    Her estimation home.

COUNTESS

    'Tis past, my liege;
    And I beseech your majesty to make it
    Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
    When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
    O'erbears it and burns on.

KING

    My honour'd lady,
    I have forgiven and forgotten all;
    Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
    And watch'd the time to shoot.

LAFEU

    This I must say,
    But first I beg my pardon, the young lord
    Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady
    Offence of mighty note; but to himself
    The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
    Whose beauty did astonish the survey
    Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
    Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
    Humbly call'd mistress.

KING

    Praising what is lost
    Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;
    We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
    All repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
    The nature of his great offence is dead,
    And deeper than oblivion we do bury
    The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
    A stranger, no offender; and inform him
    So 'tis our will he should.

Gentleman

    I shall, my liege.

    Exit

KING

    What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?

LAFEU

    All that he is hath reference to your highness.

KING

    Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
    That set him high in fame.

    Enter BERTRAM

LAFEU

    He looks well on't.

KING

    I am not a day of season,
    For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
    In me at once: but to the brightest beams
    Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
    The time is fair again.

BERTRAM

    My high-repented blames,
    Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

KING

    All is whole;
    Not one word more of the consumed time.
    Let's take the instant by the forward top;
    For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
    The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
    Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
    The daughter of this lord?

BERTRAM

    Admiringly, my liege, at first
    I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
    Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue
    Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
    Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
    Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
    Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
    Extended or contracted all proportions
    To a most hideous object: thence it came
    That she whom all men praised and whom myself,
    Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
    The dust that did offend it.

KING

    Well excused:
    That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
    From the great compt: but love that comes too late,
    Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
    To the great sender turns a sour offence,
    Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults
    Make trivial price of serious things we have,
    Not knowing them until we know their grave:
    Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
    Destroy our friends and after weep their dust
    Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
    While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon.
    Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
    Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
    The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
    To see our widower's second marriage-day.

COUNTESS

    Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!
    Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!

LAFEU

    Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
    Must be digested, give a favour from you
    To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
    That she may quickly come.

    BERTRAM gives a ring
    By my old beard,
    And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
    Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
    The last that e'er I took her at court,
    I saw upon her finger.

BERTRAM

    Hers it was not.

KING

    Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
    While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.
    This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
    I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
    Necessitied to help, that by this token
    I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave
    her
    Of what should stead her most?

BERTRAM

    My gracious sovereign,
    Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
    The ring was never hers.

COUNTESS

    Son, on my life,
    I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
    At her life's rate.

LAFEU

    I am sure I saw her wear it.

BERTRAM

    You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it:
    In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
    Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
    Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
    I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed
    To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully
    I could not answer in that course of honour
    As she had made the overture, she ceased
    In heavy satisfaction and would never
    Receive the ring again.

KING

    Plutus himself,
    That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
    Hath not in nature's mystery more science
    Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
    Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
    That you are well acquainted with yourself,
    Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
    You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety
    That she would never put it from her finger,
    Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
    Where you have never come, or sent it us
    Upon her great disaster.

BERTRAM

    She never saw it.

KING

    Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour;
    And makest conjectural fears to come into me
    Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
    That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;--
    And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly,
    And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
    Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
    More than to see this ring. Take him away.

    Guards seize BERTRAM
    My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
    Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
    Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him!
    We'll sift this matter further.

BERTRAM

    If you shall prove
    This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
    Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
    Where yet she never was.

    Exit, guarded

KING

    I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.

    Enter a Gentleman

Gentleman

    Gracious sovereign,
    Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:
    Here's a petition from a Florentine,
    Who hath for four or five removes come short
    To tender it herself. I undertook it,
    Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
    Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know
    Is here attending: her business looks in her
    With an importing visage; and she told me,
    In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
    Your highness with herself.

KING

    [Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me
    when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won
    me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows
    are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He
    stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow
    him to his country for justice: grant it me, O
    king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer
    flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.
    DIANA CAPILET.

LAFEU

    I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for
    this: I'll none of him.

KING

    The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu,
    To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors:
    Go speedily and bring again the count.
    I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
    Was foully snatch'd.

COUNTESS

    Now, justice on the doers!

    Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded

KING

    I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you,
    And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
    Yet you desire to marry.

    Enter Widow and DIANA
    What woman's that?

DIANA

    I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
    Derived from the ancient Capilet:
    My suit, as I do understand, you know,
    And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

Widow

    I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
    Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
    And both shall cease, without your remedy.

KING

    Come hither, count; do you know these women?

BERTRAM

    My lord, I neither can nor will deny
    But that I know them: do they charge me further?

DIANA

    Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

BERTRAM

    She's none of mine, my lord.

DIANA

    If you shall marry,
    You give away this hand, and that is mine;
    You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
    You give away myself, which is known mine;
    For I by vow am so embodied yours,
    That she which marries you must marry me,
    Either both or none.

LAFEU

    Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you
    are no husband for her.

BERTRAM

    My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
    Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness
    Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
    Than for to think that I would sink it here.

KING

    Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
    Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour
    Than in my thought it lies.

DIANA

    Good my lord,
    Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
    He had not my virginity.

KING

    What say'st thou to her?

BERTRAM

    She's impudent, my lord,
    And was a common gamester to the camp.

DIANA

    He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
    He might have bought me at a common price:
    Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
    Whose high respect and rich validity
    Did lack a parallel; yet for all that
    He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
    If I be one.

COUNTESS

    He blushes, and 'tis it:
    Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
    Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
    Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife;
    That ring's a thousand proofs.

KING

    Methought you said
    You saw one here in court could witness it.

DIANA

    I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
    So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles.

LAFEU

    I saw the man to-day, if man he be.

KING

    Find him, and bring him hither.

    Exit an Attendant

BERTRAM

    What of him?
    He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
    With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd;
    Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
    Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
    That will speak any thing?

KING

    She hath that ring of yours.

BERTRAM

    I think she has: certain it is I liked her,
    And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
    She knew her distance and did angle for me,
    Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
    As all impediments in fancy's course
    Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
    Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
    Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
    And I had that which any inferior might
    At market-price have bought.

DIANA

    I must be patient:
    You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife,
    May justly diet me. I pray you yet;
    Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband;
    Send for your ring, I will return it home,
    And give me mine again.

BERTRAM

    I have it not.

KING

    What ring was yours, I pray you?

DIANA

    Sir, much like
    The same upon your finger.

KING

    Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.

DIANA

    And this was it I gave him, being abed.

KING

    The story then goes false, you threw it him
    Out of a casement.

DIANA

    I have spoke the truth.

    Enter PAROLLES

BERTRAM

    My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.

KING

    You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you.
    Is this the man you speak of?

DIANA

    Ay, my lord.

KING

    Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you,
    Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
    Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off,
    By him and by this woman here what know you?

PAROLLES

    So please your majesty, my master hath been an
    honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him,
    which gentlemen have.

KING

    Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?

PAROLLES

    Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?

KING

    How, I pray you?

PAROLLES

    He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.

KING

    How is that?

PAROLLES

    He loved her, sir, and loved her not.

KING

    As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an
    equivocal companion is this!

PAROLLES

    I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.

LAFEU

    He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.

DIANA

    Do you know he promised me marriage?

PAROLLES

    Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

KING

    But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?

PAROLLES

    Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them,
    as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for
    indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and
    of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I
    was in that credit with them at that time that I
    knew of their going to bed, and of other motions,
    as promising her marriage, and things which would
    derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not
    speak what I know.

KING

    Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say
    they are married: but thou art too fine in thy
    evidence; therefore stand aside.
    This ring, you say, was yours?

DIANA

    Ay, my good lord.

KING

    Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?

DIANA

    It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

KING

    Who lent it you?

DIANA

    It was not lent me neither.

KING

    Where did you find it, then?

DIANA

    I found it not.

KING

    If it were yours by none of all these ways,
    How could you give it him?

DIANA

    I never gave it him.

LAFEU

    This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off
    and on at pleasure.

KING

    This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife.

DIANA

    It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.

KING

    Take her away; I do not like her now;
    To prison with her: and away with him.
    Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
    Thou diest within this hour.

DIANA

    I'll never tell you.

KING

    Take her away.

DIANA

    I'll put in bail, my liege.

KING

    I think thee now some common customer.

DIANA

    By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.

KING

    Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?

DIANA

    Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:
    He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't;
    I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
    Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
    I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.

KING

    She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.

DIANA

    Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir:

    Exit Widow
    The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
    And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
    Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
    Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
    He knows himself my bed he hath defiled;
    And at that time he got his wife with child:
    Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick:
    So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick:
    And now behold the meaning.

    Re-enter Widow, with HELENA

KING

    Is there no exorcist
    Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
    Is't real that I see?

HELENA

    No, my good lord;
    'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
    The name and not the thing.

BERTRAM

    Both, both. O, pardon!

HELENA

    O my good lord, when I was like this maid,
    I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring;
    And, look you, here's your letter; this it says:
    'When from my finger you can get this ring
    And are by me with child,' & c. This is done:
    Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?

BERTRAM

    If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
    I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

HELENA

    If it appear not plain and prove untrue,
    Deadly divorce step between me and you!
    O my dear mother, do I see you living?

LAFEU

    Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon:

    To PAROLLES
    Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so,
    I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
    Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

KING

    Let us from point to point this story know,
    To make the even truth in pleasure flow.

    To DIANA
    If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
    Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
    For I can guess that by thy honest aid
    Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
    Of that and all the progress, more or less,
    Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
    All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
    The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

    Flourish
    EPILOGUE

KING

    The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
    All is well ended, if this suit be won,
    That you express content; which we will pay,
    With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
    Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
    Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.

    Exeunt
  Top. 

Nessun commento: