The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: X1v - Comedies, p. 242

Left Column


All's Well that Ends Well. you written to beare along.

Fren. G.
[1455]

We serue you Madam in that and all your

worthiest affaires.

La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies, Will you draw neere? Exit. Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.
[1460]
Nothing in France vntill he has no wife: Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France, Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
[1465]
Of the none‑sparing warre? And is it I, That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
[1470]
Fly with false ayme, moue the still‑peering aire That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord: Who euer shoots at him, I set him there. Who euer charges on his forward brest I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
[1475]
And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: Better 'twere I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere, That all the miseries which nature owes
[1480]
Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion, Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre, As oft it looses all. I will be gone: My being heere it is, that holds thee hence, Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although
[1485]
The ayre of Paradise did fan the house, And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone, That pittifull rumour may report my flight To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day, For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away. Exit.
[Act 3, Scene 3] Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles. Duke.
[1490]
The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune. Ber. Sir it is A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
[1495]
Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake, To th'extreme edge of hazard. Duke. Then go thou forth, And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris. Ber.
[1500]
This very day Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue. Exeunt omnes
[Act 3, Scene 4] Enter Countesse & Steward. La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:
[1505]
Might you not know she would do, as she has done, By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.

Letter.

I am S. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,
[1510]
That bare‑foot plod I the cold ground vpon With sainted vow my faults to haue amended

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Right Column


Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre, My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie, Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,
[1515]
His name with zealous feruour sanctifie: His taken labours bid him me forgiue: I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue, Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.
[1520]
He is too good and faire for death, and mee, Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much, As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,
[1525]
I could haue well diuerted her intents, Which thus she hath preuented. Ste. Pardon me Madam, If I had giuen you this at ouer‑night, She might haue beene ore‑tane: and yet she writes
[1530]
Pursuite would be but vaine. La. What Angell shall Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue, Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
[1535]
Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this vnworthy husband of his wife, Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth, That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe, Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.
[1540]
Dispatch the most conuenient messenger, When haply he shall heare that she is gone, He will returne, and hope I may that shee Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe, Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
[1545]
Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence To make distinction: prouide this Messenger: My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake, Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake. Exeunt
[Act 3, Scene 5] A Tucket afarre off. Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter, Violenta and Mariana, with other Citizens. Widdow. Nay come,
[1550]
For if they do approach the Citty, We shall loose all the sight. Diana. They say, the French Count has done Most honourable seruice. Wid. It is reported,
[1555]
That he has taken their great'st Commander, And that with his owne hand he slew The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour, They are gone a contrarie way: harke, you may know by their Trumpets. Maria.
[1560]
Come lets returne againe, And suffice our selues with the report of it. Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle, The honor of a Maide is her name, And no Legacie is so rich
[1565]
As honestie. Widdow. I haue told my neighbour How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman His Companion. Maria

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[Act 3, Scene 3] Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles. Duke.
[1490]
The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune. Ber. Sir it is A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
[1495]
Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake, To th'extreme edge of hazard. Duke. Then go thou forth, And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris. Ber.
[1500]
This very day Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue. Exeunt omnes
 

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<div type="scene" n="3" rend="notPresent">
   <head type="supplied">[Act 3, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="mixed">Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion,
      <lb/>drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-aww-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Duke.</speaker>
      <l n="1490">The Generall of our horse thou art, and we</l>
      <l n="1491">Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence</l>
      <l n="1492">Vpon thy promising fortune.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-aww-ber">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ber.</speaker>
      <l n="1493">Sir it is</l>
      <l n="1494">A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet</l>
      <l n="1495">Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,</l>
      <l n="1496">To th'extreme edge of hazard.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-aww-duk">
      <speaker rend="italic">Duke.</speaker>
      <l n="1497">Then go thou forth,</l>
      <l n="1498">And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme</l>
      <l n="1499">As thy auspicious mistris.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-aww-ber">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ber.</speaker>
      <l n="1500">This very day</l>
      <l n="1501">Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,</l>
      <l n="1502">Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue</l>
      <l n="1503">A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt omnes</stage>
</div>

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