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*Rated T for Teen
All's Well That Ends Well
Act IV, Scene III – Midnight Tryst
The curtains opened to reveal a giant bed in the middle of the stage, but the light did not illuminate it enough to see any faces.
Bertram/Seto entered the stage slowly, apprehensively approaching the bed. He pulled back the covers and slipped into it.
The curtains closed, concealing the midnight tryst between the two lovers in the bed, which actually consisted of Bertram/Seto and Helena/Joey. However, Bertram/Seto was unaware that Helena/Joey had taken the place of Diana/Ryou in the bed, where Helena/Joey finally lost her virginity to Bertram/Seto.
Act IV, Scene III – The Florentine Camp
Two French Lords entered the stage, along with three soldiers.
"You have not given Bertram his mother's letter?" inquired the First Lord.
"I delivered it just over an hour ago. There is something in it that stings his nature, because upon reading it, he almost changed into another man," answered the Second Lord.
"Bertram has much blame laid upon him for shaking off such a good wife and sweet lady."
"Yes. His actions have dishonored him greatly. No amount of military valor can ever make up for that! And now, I have another secret to tell you."
"What is that?"
"Bertram has perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence. Her name is Diana and she is most chaste. Tonight, Bertram intends to take her to bed and rid her of her virginity. He's given Diana his monumental ring and thinks himself made in this unchaste composition," related the Second Lord.
"My, God! Delay our rebellion! Look at what things we are!"
"We are merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we will see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their loathed ends. So Bertram, in this action, contrives against his own nobility!"
"Is it not damnable to us to be the trumpeter of our unlawful intents? Bertram will not be with us tonight, then?" asked the First Lord.
"No. Not until after midnight. Bertram is set to his hour."
"Hm. That approaches soon. I would gladly see his company anatomized. He might take a measure of his own judgments, in which, so strangely he had set this sham."
"We will not meddle with him until he comes, for his presence must be the whip of the other."
"Well, in the meantime, what have you heard of these wars?"
"I've heard there is an approach of peace."
"I assure you; a peace concluded."
"What will Bertram do then? Will he travel higher or will he return to France?"
"I think, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council."
"Uh, let it be forbid, sir. I should be a great deal of his act," replied the Second Lord.
"Sir, Bertram's wife Helena, some two months ago, fled from his house. She claimed to be on a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand, in which she accomplished this holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony. Residing in the tenderness of her nature, Helena became prey to her grief. In fine, she made a groan of her last breath and now she sings in heaven."
"How is this justified?" exclaimed the Second Lord in shock.
"Well, the stronger part of it is by Helena's own letter, which makes her story true, even up to the point of her death. Helena's death itself, which cannot really be said by her, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place."
"Does Bertram know all this?"
"Yes, and the particular confirmations, from point to point, are all true."
"I am terribly sorry that Bertram will be glad because of this."
"Hn. How mightily we sometimes make comforts out of our losses."
"And how mightily we sometimes drown our gains in our own tears. The great dignity Bertram's valor has acquired here shall, at home, put him to shame!"
"Yes. The web of life is spun together, both good and bad. Our virtues would be proud, but only if our faults were whipped. Our crimes would despair, but only if they were not cherished by our virtues," said the First Lord as a messenger entered the stage. "Here, now! Where's your master?" he inquired, addressing the messenger.
"He met the Duke in the street, sir, of whom he has taken a solemn leave. His lordship will leave the next morning for France. The Duke has offered him letters of commendations to the King," replied the messenger.
"These letters shall no more be needed there, if they were more than they can commend," said the Second Lord.
"They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness. Here's his lordship now!" stated the First Lord, indicating Bertram/Seto as he entered the stage. "How, now, my lord! Is it not after midnight?"
"I have dispatched sixteen businesses tonight, a month's length apiece by an abstract of success. I have spoken with the Duke, said my farewells, buried a wife, mourned for her, written to my mother saying that I am returning, entertained my convoy, and between these main parts of dispatch, I have affected many nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet," said Bertram/Seto with a smirk.
"If the business is of any difficulty, and this morning you're leaving consequently, it requires that of your lordship," said the Second Lord.
"I mean that the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of his in the future. Must we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come. Bring forth this counterfeit module. Parolles has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier," replied Bertram/Seto.
"Bring him forth. Parolles sat in the stocks all night, the poor, gallant knave," replied the Second Lord.
"No matter. His heels have deserved it in assuming his urges so long. How does he carry himself?" inquired Bertram/Seto.
"I have told you already, the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood, Parolles weeps like a woman that had shed her milk. He has confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes is a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant; the disaster of him sitting in the stocks. What do you think he's confessed?"
"Nothing of me, I hope."
"His confession is taken and it shall be read to his face. If your lordship is in it, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it," said the Second Lord as Parolles/Duke entered the stage being guarded by the First Soldier.
"A plague upon him! Muffled! He can say nothing of me. Hush! Hush!" hissed Bertram/Seto, still not believing Parolles/Duke would betray him.
"Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa?" asked the First Lord in the made up language.
"He calls for the tortures. What will you say without them?" inquired the First Soldier of Parolles/Duke, who was acting as interpreter.
"I will confess what I know without constraint," began Parolles/Duke hastily. "If you pinch me like a pastry, I can say no more."
"Bosko chimchurcho," said the First Soldier.
"Boblibindo chicurmurco," replied the First Lord.
"You are a merciful general. Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note."
"And truly, as I hope to live."
"First, how many horses does the Duke have? What say you to that?"
"Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable. The troops are all scattered, and the commanders are very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit and as I hope to live."
"Shall I set down your answer so?"
"Do. I'll take the sacrament on it. How and which way you will."
"All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this?" whispered Bertram/Seto.
"You're deceived, my lord. This is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist. That was his own
phrase, and that had the whole theorem of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the shape of his dagger," replied the First Lord.
"I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean. Nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly," added the Second Lord.
"Well, that's set down," announced the First Soldier.
"Five or six thousand horses, I said. I will say true. Or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth," said Parolles/Duke.
"He's very near the truth in this," said the First Lord.
"But I do him no thanks for it, in the nature he delivers it," mumbled Bertram/Seto.
"Poor rogues, I pray you, say," said Parolles/Duke.
"Well, that's set down," repeated the First Soldier.
"I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth, the rogues are marvelous poor."
"Of what strength are they on foot? What say you to that?"
"By my truth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see…Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each. So that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand polls; half of the like dare not shake snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces," answered Parolles/Duke.
"What shall be done to him?" asked Bertram/Seto.
"Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the Duke," answered the First Lord.
"Well, that's set down," began the First Soldier. "Is Captain Dumain in the camp? What is his reputation with the Duke? What is his valor, honesty, and expertness in wars? Is it not
possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to revolt? What say you to this? What do you know of it?"
"I beseech you; let me answer to the particular of the interrogatories. Demand them individually."
"Do you know this Captain Dumain?"
"I know him. He was a butcher's apprentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's fool with child, a dumb innocent that could not say him nay."
"Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls," whispered Bertram/Seto.
"Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp?" asked the First Soldier.
"Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy."
"Nay look not so upon me. We shall hear of your lordship soon," said the First Lord.
"What is his reputation with the Duke?"
"The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out of the band. I think I have his letter in my pocket," said Parolles/Duke.
"We'll search."
"In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters
in my tent."
"Here it is; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you?"
"I do not know if it be it or not."
"Our interpreter does it well," commented Bertram/Seto.
"Excellently," replied the First Lord.
"'Diana, the Count's a fool, and full of gold,'" read the First Soldier.
"That is not the Duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Bertram, a foolish, idle boy, but for all that very brutish: I pray you, sir, put it up again," said Parolles/Duke.
"Nay, I'll read it first, by your favor."
"My meaning in it, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity and devours up all the fry it finds."
"Damnable both-sided rogue!" spat Bertram/Seto.
"'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; after he scores, he never pays the score. Half won is a match well made; match, and well make it; he never pays after-debts, take it before; and say a soldier, Diana, told him this, men are to mill with, boys are not to kiss, for count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it, who pays before, but not when he does owe it. You, as he vowed to me in your ear, Parolles,'" read the First Soldier.
"He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in his forehead," growled Bertram/Seto.
"This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the arm potent soldier," stated the Second Lord.
"I could endure anything before but a cat, and now, he's a cat to me."
"I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you," commented the First Solider.
"My life, sir, in any case. Not that I am afraid to die, but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, in the stocks, or anywhere, so I may live," begged Parolles/Duke.
"We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain. You have answered to his reputation with the Duke and to his valor. What is his honesty?"
"He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister. For rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth was a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep, he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty. He has everything that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing," answered Parolles/Duke.
"I begin to love him for this," remarked the First Lord.
"For this description of his honesty! A pox upon him for me, he's more and more a cat!" spat Bertram/Seto.
"What say you to his expertness in war?" asked the First Soldier.
"Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians; to belie him, I will not, and more of his soldier-ship I know not; except, in that country he had the honor to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files. I would do the man what honor I can, but of this I am not certain," replied Parolles/Duke.
"He has out-villained villainy so far, that the rarity redeems him."
"A pox on him, he's a cat still," Bertram/Seto repeated.
"His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt," said the First Soldier.
"Sir, he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it continually," stated Parolles/Duke.
"What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain?"
"Why does he ask him of me?" asked the Second Lord.
"What's he?" the First Soldier asked again.
"Even a crow of the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreat, he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp," answered Parolles/Duke.
"If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine?"
"Yes, and the captain of his horse, Bertram."
"I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure."
Parolles/Duke looked off to the side and said aloud to himself, "I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy, the Count, have I run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken?"
"There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The general says that you have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore, you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head," declared the First Soldier.
"Oh, Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!" pleaded Parolles/Duke.
"That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends," said the First Lord, unbinding Parolles/Duke. "So, look about you. Do you know any here?"
"Good morrow, noble captain," Bertram/Seto growled menacingly.
"God bless you, Captain Parolles," stated the Second Lord.
"God save you, noble captain," remarked the First Lord.
"Captain, what greetings will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France," said the Second Lord.
"Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of Bertram? And I were not a very coward, I would compel it of you. But fare you well," replied the First Lord.
Bertram/Seto and the Lords exited the stage briskly.
"You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on it yet," said the First Soldier.
"Who cannot be crushed with a plot?" commented Parolles/Duke.
"If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir; I am for France, too. We shall speak of you there," he said as he left with the soldiers.
"Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, it would burst at this. Captain, I'll be no more; but I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft as a captain shall. Simply, the thing I am shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, let him fear this, for it will come to pass that every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword? Cool, blushes? And, Parolles, live safest in shame! Being fooled, by foolery thrive! There is place and means for every man alive. I'll after them," said Parolles/Duke as he exited the stage as well.
End Scene