ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Page: 36

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.
Whatsoe'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 examin'd.

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

WIDOW.
Ay, right; good creature, wheresoe'er she is
Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her
A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd.

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:--

[Enter, with a drum and colours, a party of the Florentine army,
BERTRAM, and PAROLLES.]

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 lov'd 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 vex'd at something.
Look, he has spied us.

WIDOW.
Marry, hang you!