Act 2, Scene 1

Original Text

Paris. A room in the King's palace. Flourish. Enter the King with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles and Attendants.

Modern English

Paris. A room in the King's palace. Trumpets sound. The King enters with young lords who are saying their goodbyes before leaving for the war in Florence; Bertram, Parolles, and attendants are with him.

Original Text

KING. Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles Do not throw from you; and you, my lords, farewell; Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, And is enough for both.

Modern English

KING. Farewell, young lords -- hold onto these lessons of war, Don't toss them aside. And you, my lords, farewell. Share what wisdom I've given between you; if both absorb it fully, The gift only grows as it's received -- There's more than enough for both of you.

Original Text

FIRST LORD. 'Tis our hope, sir, After well-ent'red soldiers, to return And find your grace in health.

Modern English

FIRST LORD. We hope, sir, After serving well as soldiers, to come back And find your grace in good health.

Original Text

KING. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords. Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy,— Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy—see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it, when The bravest questant shrinks: find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud. I say farewell.

Modern English

KING. No, no -- that can't be. And yet my heart Refuses to admit it owes the illness That has besieged my life. Farewell, young lords. Whether I live or die, be worthy sons Of France; and when you reach Italy -- Setting aside those who only inherit the ruins Of a fallen empire -- make sure you go there Not merely to court honor, but to claim it outright When braver men flinch. Find what you're after, So fame may shout your names aloud. Farewell.

Original Text

SECOND LORD. Health, at your bidding serve your majesty!

Modern English

SECOND LORD. May good health serve your majesty, at your command!

Original Text

KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; They say our French lack language to deny If they demand; beware of being captives Before you serve. BOTH. Our hearts receive your warnings. KING. Farewell.—Come hither to me. [_The King retires to a couch._]

Modern English

KING. Those Italian women -- watch yourselves around them. They say Frenchmen don't know how to say no When asked. Don't let yourselves be conquered Before you've even fought. BOTH. We take your warnings to heart. KING. Farewell. -- Come here to me. [_The King withdraws to a couch._]

Original Text

FIRST LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAROLLES. 'Tis not his fault; the spark. SECOND LORD. O, 'tis brave wars! PAROLLES. Most admirable! I have seen those wars.

Modern English

FIRST LORD. Oh, what a pity, my lord, that you must stay behind! PAROLLES. It's not his fault -- the spark is there. SECOND LORD. Oh, what glorious wars! PAROLLES. Absolutely glorious! I've seen those wars myself.

Original Text

BERTRAM. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with, "Too young", and "the next year" and "'tis too early". PAROLLES. An thy mind stand to't, boy, steal away bravely.

Modern English

BERTRAM. I've been ordered to stay here, and they keep putting me off with "too young" and "next year" and "it's too soon." PAROLLES. If you've made up your mind, boy, then slip away and do it boldly.

Original Text

BERTRAM. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away. FIRST LORD. There's honour in the theft. PAROLLES. Commit it, count. SECOND LORD. I am your accessary; and so farewell.

Modern English

BERTRAM. I'll end up here playing escort to some woman's skirts, Creaking my shoes across the palace floors, Until all honor has been bought and sold, and the only swords Are the ones men carry to dances. By heaven, I'll sneak away. FIRST LORD. There's honor in that kind of theft. PAROLLES. Do it, Count. SECOND LORD. I'll be your accomplice. And so -- farewell.

Original Text

BERTRAM. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body. FIRST LORD. Farewell, captain. SECOND LORD. Sweet Monsieur Parolles!

Modern English

BERTRAM. I've grown attached to you both -- parting from you feels like tearing a body apart. FIRST LORD. Farewell, captain. SECOND LORD. Dear Monsieur Parolles!

Original Text

PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals. You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrench'd it. Say to him I live; and observe his reports for me. FIRST LORD. We shall, noble captain. PAROLLES. Mars dote on you for his novices! [_Exeunt Lords._]

Modern English

PAROLLES. Noble heroes -- my sword and yours are kindred blades. Good fellows, bright and fine -- one word, good men. In the regiment of the Spinii you'll find a Captain Spurio, with a scar -- a trophy of war -- right here on his left cheek. It was this very sword that carved it. Tell him I'm alive, and bring back whatever he says about me. FIRST LORD. We will, noble captain. PAROLLES. May Mars look fondly on you as his new recruits! [_The lords exit._]

Original Text

What will ye do? BERTRAM. Stay the king. PAROLLES. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the influence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated farewell. BERTRAM. And I will do so. PAROLLES. Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [_Exeunt Bertram and Parolles._]

Modern English

What are you going to do? BERTRAM. Wait on the King. PAROLLES. You gave those lords far too cold a goodbye. Show them more ceremony -- you held yourself back when you should have opened up. These men are at the very height of fashion; they set the standard for how to walk, talk, eat, and carry themselves. They follow the brightest star in the sky -- and even if the devil himself led the dance, men like that are worth following. Go after them and give them a proper, warm farewell. BERTRAM. I'll do it. PAROLLES. Fine men -- and likely to prove themselves iron-handed swordsmen. [_Bertram and Parolles exit._]

Original Text

Enter Lafew. LAFEW. Pardon, my lord [_kneeling_], for me and for my tidings. KING. I'll fee thee to stand up. LAFEW. Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so stand up. KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't.

Modern English

Lafew enters. LAFEW. Forgive me, my lord [_kneeling_] -- for my intrusion and my news. KING. I'll pay you to get up. LAFEW. Then here stands a man who's already earned his pardon. I wish it were you kneeling, my lord, asking my forgiveness, And that I could tell you when to rise. KING. I wish I had been -- I'd have cracked your head for your cheek, Then asked your forgiveness for that.

Original Text

LAFEW. Good faith, across; But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cur'd Of your infirmity? KING. No.

Modern English

LAFEW. Fair enough -- a hit, but wide of the mark. But here's my point, my lord: do you want to be cured Of your illness? KING. No.

Original Text

LAFEW. O, will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will My noble grapes, and if my royal fox Could reach them. I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pippen, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand And write to her a love-line. KING. What 'her' is this?

Modern English

LAFEW. Oh, too proud to reach for the grapes, your royal fox? And yet you would reach for them -- oh yes you would -- If only your royal paw could stretch that far. I have come across a medicine that could breathe life into a stone, Revive a rock, and have you dancing the canary With all the energy and fire of a young man -- a remedy whose Mere touch could raise King Pepin from the dead, Or put a quill in Charlemagne's hand And have him writing love letters. KING. Writing to whom?

Original Text

LAFEW. Why, doctor 'she'! My lord, there's one arriv'd, If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her, For that is her demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. KING. Now, good Lafew, Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond'ring how thou took'st it. LAFEW. Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [_Exit Lafew._] KING. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

Modern English

LAFEW. Why, to a woman doctor -- a "she"! My lord, she has arrived, If you'll agree to see her. I swear on my faith and honor -- And I say this in earnest, even if my manner seems light -- I have spoken with a woman who, in her sex, her youth, Her calling, her wisdom, and her steadiness, has astonished me More than I'm willing to chalk up to mere weakness on my part. Will you see her? That's all she asks -- just see her, hear her out. Then, if you like, laugh at me all you want. KING. Well then, Lafew, Bring in this marvel, so that I may share your wonder -- Or else cure you of it by wondering what on earth you were thinking. LAFEW. I'll show you what I mean -- And I won't take all day about it either. [_Lafew exits._] KING. There he goes -- making a grand prologue out of nothing, as usual.

Original Text

Enter Lafew with Helena. LAFEW. Nay, come your ways. KING. This haste hath wings indeed. LAFEW. Nay, come your ways. This is his majesty, say your mind to him. A traitor you do look like, but such traitors His majesty seldom fears; I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together. Fare you well. [_Exit._]

Modern English

Lafew re-enters with Helena. LAFEW. Come along now, this way. KING. That was quick indeed. LAFEW. Come along. This is his majesty -- speak your mind to him. You look like a dangerous woman, but his majesty Has little to fear from that kind of danger. I'm old enough to be Cressida's uncle -- Brave enough to leave two people alone together. Farewell. [_Exit Lafew._]

Original Text

KING. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? HELENA. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father, In what he did profess, well found. KING. I knew him.

Modern English

KING. Now then, young woman -- have you come to me on some matter? HELENA. Yes, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father -- A man well respected in his profession. KING. I knew him.

Original Text

HELENA. The rather will I spare my praises towards him. Knowing him is enough. On his bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, He bade me store up as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two; more dear I have so, And hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause, wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness.

Modern English

HELENA. Then I'll spare you my praises of him. Your knowing him says enough. On his deathbed He gave me many prescriptions and remedies -- but chiefly one, Which he valued above all his other discoveries, The one true treasure of a lifetime of experience. He told me to guard it more carefully than I guard my own eyes -- I have done so, and dearer still. Now, hearing that your majesty is afflicted With the very illness that my father's greatest gift was designed to treat, I have come to offer it to you -- and myself, in service -- With all the humility I owe.

Original Text

KING. We thank you, maiden, But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate. I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.

Modern English

KING. We thank you, young woman, But we cannot be so quick to believe in a cure -- Not when our most learned doctors have given up, And the assembled college has reached its conclusion That medicine and human skill can never rescue the body From what is past saving. We must not So compromise our judgment, or corrupt our hope, By handing our hopeless condition over to quacks, Nor damage our dignity by placing trust In a remedy that makes no sense -- when we ourselves believe That sense can no longer help us.

Original Text

HELENA. My duty then shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce mine office on you, Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one to bear me back again. KING. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful. Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live. But what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Modern English

HELENA. Then my duty will have to be reward enough for my trouble. I'll press my services on you no further -- I only ask that your royal mind spare one small thought To send me peaceably home. KING. I can't give you less than that and still call myself grateful. You meant to help me, and I give you the kind of thanks A dying man gives to those who wish him well. But what I know in full, you don't know at all: I know every danger I face -- you don't know the craft to address it.

Original Text

HELENA. What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister. So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the great'st been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.

Modern English

HELENA. Whatever I can do, there's no harm in trying -- Especially since you've already given up on any remedy. The greatest works are often finished By the most unlikely hands. Holy scripture has shown wisdom through the mouths of babes When the wise have failed. Great floods have begun From the smallest springs, and mighty seas have run dry When great men refused to believe in miracles. Expectation fails most often exactly where it's highest, And help arrives most often where hope has gone cold, Where nothing seems left but despair.

Original Text

KING. I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid. Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid; Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.

Modern English

KING. I can't listen to this. Goodbye, kind girl. Your trouble, since I won't use it, you must bear yourself; An offer refused still earns a thank-you -- that's your reward.

Original Text

HELENA. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd. It is not so with Him that all things knows As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim, But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power nor you past cure.

Modern English

HELENA. So a gift from heaven gets turned away by a word. God doesn't weigh things the way we do -- We judge by appearances; He does not. And the worst arrogance we show is when We mistake heaven's help for something merely human. Dear sir, give my efforts your consent; Think of this as an experiment with heaven, not with me. I am no fraud -- I don't claim powers beyond what I can deliver. But I believe, and believe firmly, That my skill is not beyond what's possible, and you are not beyond cure.

Original Text

KING. Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure? HELENA. The greatest grace lending grace. Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy lamp; Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.

Modern English

KING. You're that confident? How long do you think It would take to cure me? HELENA. With God's grace lending its own grace to mine -- Before the sun's horses have completed their circuit twice, Before the evening star has twice dimmed her lamp In the western dark and damp; Before twenty-four turns of the hourglass Have counted off the minutes in their slow theft -- Whatever disease lives among your healthy parts shall flee, Health shall breathe free again, and sickness shall die.

Original Text

KING. Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar'st thou venture? HELENA. Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; nay worse of worst extended With vilest torture, let my life be ended.

Modern English

KING. Given your certainty and confidence -- What are you prepared to wager? HELENA. My reputation. The name of a bold woman, publicly shamed, Mocked in filthy ballads; my good name as a maiden Burned away -- and worse than worst of all, Subjected to the vilest torment -- let my life be taken.

Original Text

KING. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerful sound within an organ weak; And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate: Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call. Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die.

Modern English

KING. It seems to me some blessed spirit speaks Through you -- a powerful voice from a frail vessel. And what reason would dismiss as impossible, Some other kind of sense finds a way to believe. Your life is precious -- everything in it that deserves To be called life has its worth: Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage -- everything That happiness and the prime of life can claim. To stake all that means you must either have Skill beyond measure, or be desperately reckless. But, dear physician, I will try your medicine -- Which will be your death warrant if I die.

Original Text

HELENA. If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserv'd. Not helping, death's my fee; But if I help, what do you promise me? KING. Make thy demand. HELENA. But will you make it even? KING. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.

Modern English

HELENA. If I miss my timeframe, or fail to deliver What I've promised, let me die without pity -- And rightly so. Failure means death is what I owe. But if I succeed -- what do you promise me? KING. Name your price. HELENA. But will you hold to it? KING. Yes -- by my scepter and my hope of heaven.

Original Text

HELENA. Then shalt thou give me, with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

Modern English

HELENA. Then you shall give me, with your royal hand, Whatever husband within your power I choose to name. I set this limit on myself: I won't be so presumptuous As to reach into the royal blood of France, Raising my low and humble name up Into the family of your state itself. Only one of your wards -- someone you hold in trust -- Freely mine to ask for, freely yours to give.

Original Text

KING. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd; So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust: From whence thou cam'st, how tended on; but rest Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted bless'd. Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. [_Flourish. Exeunt._]

Modern English

KING. Here is my hand. If the conditions are met, Your wish shall be honored by my act. Choose whenever you're ready -- I am, Your committed patient, relying on you still. I should ask you more -- and I must -- though Knowing more couldn't make me trust you more than I do. Where you come from, who attends you -- but never mind: Be welcome without question, and go blessed without doubt. Help me up! If you perform as boldly As you have spoken, my deed will match your word. [_Trumpets sound. They exit._]

All's Well That Ends Well

Act 2, Scene 1

Act 2, Scene 1