coxcomb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a Vio. And all those sayings will I over guli? to. Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd [Exeunt CLOWN, Sir TCBY, and Sir ANDREW.] Enter SEBASTIAN. Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your But had it been the brother of my blood, Duke. One face, oue voice, oue habit, A natural perspective, that is, and is not. How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me, Ant. Sebastian are you? Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio? swear; And all those swearings keep as true in soul, Duke. Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. Hath my maid's garments; he, upon some Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman and follower of my lady's. Oli. He shall enlarge him :-Fetch Malvolio hither: And yet, alas, now I remember me, and They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. A most extracting frenzy of mine own Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end, as well as a man in his case may Ant. How have you made division of your-do: he has here writ a letter to you, I should self? An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures. Oli. Most wonderful! Seb. Do I stand there? ther: Which is Sebastian? I never had a bro Nor can there be that deity in my nature, Of charity, what kin are you to me? [TO VIOLA. What countryman? what name? what parentage? Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Seb. A spirit I am, indeed; Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years. Seb. O that record is lively in my soul have given it you to-day morning; but as a Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool delivers the madman :-By the lord, madam. Oti. How now! art thou mad! Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow vox. * Oli. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits. Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right princess, and give ear. wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend, tiny [TO FABIAN. Oli. Read it, you sirrah. Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into dar ness, and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of my injury, The madly-us'd MALVOLIO. Oli. Did he write this ? Duke. This savours not much of distraction. hither. My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle Here at my house, and at my proper cost. help Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. Your master quits you: [TO VIOLA.] and, for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, Oli. A sister? you are she. Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO. Mal. Madam, you have done me wrong, Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no. Clo. Why, some are born great, some achieve Mal. Lady vou have. Pray you, peruse that greatness, and some have greatness thrown letter ; You must not now deny it is your hand, Why you have given me such clear lights of Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to To put on yellow stockings, and to frown Oli. Alas! Malvolio, this is not my writing, First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in And in such forms which here were presuppos'd thee; But, when we know the grounds and authors Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Fab. Good madam, hear me speak; Oli. Alas, poor fool! how have they baffied § • Infurior. ↑ Fool. * Importunacy. Cheated. upon them. I was one, Sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, Sir; but that's all one :-By the Lord, jool, I am not mad;-But do you remember? Matam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagg'd: And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of He hath not told us of the captain yet; SONG. [Exeunt. Clo. When that I was and a little tiny boy, But when I came to man's estate, For the rain it raineth every day. With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my bed, With hey, ho, the wind and the ruin, A great while ago the world begun, • Shall servu. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. THE fable of this play, (written in 1598,) is taken from a novel of which Boccace is the original author; but it is more than probable that our poet read it in a book called The Palace of Pleasure; a collection of novels translated from different authors, by one William Painter, 1566, 4to. Shakspeare has only borrowed from the novel a few leading circumstances in the graver parts of the drama: the comic characters are entirely of his own formation: one of them, Parolles, a boaster and a coward, is the sheet-anchor of the piece. The plot is not sufficiently probable. Some of the scenes are forcibly written, whilst others are impoverished and unin teresting. The moral of the play may be correctly ascertained from Dr. Johnson's estimate of the character of Bertram: "I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram ; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helena as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead, by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness." KING OF FRANCE. DUKE OF FLORENCE. BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon. LAPEU, an old Lord. DRAMATIS PERSONE. PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram. A PAGE. sillon. COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram. An Old Widow of Florence. Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Sol- SCENE-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. ACT I. SCENE I.-Rousillon.-A Room in the Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of ROUSILLON, Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,⚫ evermore in subjection. Luf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;-you, Sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (Oh! that had!t how sad a passage 'tis !) whose The heirs of great fortunes were always the king's wards. + The countess recollects her o vn loss of a husband, and observes how heavily had passes through her mind. skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? Laf. A fistula, my lord. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ? Count. His sole child, my lord: and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer: for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in Qualities of good breeding and erudition, |