{"product_id":"alls-well-that-ends-well-isbn-9780140714609","title":"All's Well That Ends Well","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe acclaimed Pelican Shakespeare series edited by A. R. Braunmuller and Stephen Orgel\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The legendary Pelican Shakespeare series features authoritative and meticulously researched texts paired with scholarship by renowned Shakespeareans. Each book includes an essay on the theatrical world of Shakespeare’s time, an introduction to the individual play, and a detailed note on the text used. Updated by general editors Stephen Orgel and A. R. Braunmuller, these easy-to-read editions incorporate over thirty years of Shakespeare scholarship undertaken since the original series, edited by Alfred Harbage, appeared between 1956 and 1967. With definitive texts and illuminating essays, the Pelican Shakespeare will remain a valued resource for students, teachers, and theater professionals for many years to come.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.\u003cbr\u003e  “A remarkable edition, one that makes Shakespeare’s extraordinary accomplishment more vivid than ever.”—James Shapiro, professor, Columbia University, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eA Year in the Life of Shakespeare: 1599\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“A feast of literary and historical information.”\u003ci\u003e—The Wall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eWilliam Shakespeare \u003c\/b\u003ewas born in Stratford-upon-Avon in April, 1564, and his birth is traditionally celebrated on April 23. The facts of his life, known from surviving documents, are sparse. He died on April 23, 1616, and was buried in Holy Trinity Church, Stratford. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eA. R.\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003eBraunmuller \u003c\/b\u003eis Distinguished Professor of English and Comparative Literature at the University of California at Los Angeles. He has written critical volumes on George Peele and George Chapman and has edited plays in both the Oxford (\u003ci\u003eKing John\u003c\/i\u003e) and Cambridge (\u003ci\u003eMacbeth\u003c\/i\u003e) series of Shakespeare editions. He is also general editor of The New Cambridge Shakespeare. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eStephen Orgel \u003c\/b\u003eis the Jackson Eli Reynolds Professor of the Humanities at Stanford University and general editor of the Cambridge Studies in Renaissance Literature and Culture. His books include \u003ci\u003eImagining Shakespeare\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Authentic Shakespeare\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eImpersonations: The Performance of Gender in Shakespeare’s England\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Illusion of Power\u003c\/i\u003e.Act 1 Scene 1 running scene 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnter young Bertram, [the] Count of Rossillion, his mother [the Countess], and Helena, Lord Lafew, all in black\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS This young gentlewoman had a father - O, that 'had'! How sad a passage 'tis! - whose skill was almost as great as his honesty, had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would for the king's sake he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW How called you the man you speak of, madam?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW A fistula, my lord.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM I heard not of it before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS 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 her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena. Go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM Madam, I desire your holy wishes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW How understand we that?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn manners as in shape. Thy blood and virtue\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eContend for empire in thee, and thy goodness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShare with thy birthright. Love all, trust a few,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDo wrong to none. Be able for thine enemy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRather in power than use, and keep thy friend\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUnder thy own life's key. Be checked for silence,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut never taxed for speech. What heaven more will,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFall on thy head! Farewell.- My lord, To Lafew\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Tis an unseasoned courtier. Good my lord,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAdvise him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW He cannot want the best\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat shall attend his love.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCOUNTESS Heaven bless him.- Farewell, Bertram. [Exit]\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM The best wishes that can be forged in your To Helen\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLAFEW Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafew]\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN O, were that all! I think not on my father,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd these great tears grace his remembrance more\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThan those I shed for him. What was he like?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI have forgot him. My imagination\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCarries no favour in't but Bertram's.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI am undone. There is no living, none,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf Bertram be away. 'Twere all one\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat I should love a bright particular star\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd think to wed it, he is so above me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn his bright radiance and collateral light\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMust I be comforted, not in his sphere;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTh'ambition in my love thus plagues itself:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe hind that would be mated by the lion\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMust die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo see him every hour, to sit and draw\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis archèd brows, his hawking eye, his curls\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn our heart's table - heart too capable\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf every line and trick of his sweet favour:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMust sanctify his relics. Who comes here?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnter Parolles\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne that goes with him: I love him for his sake, Aside\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd yet I know him a notorious liar,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThink him a great way fool, solely a coward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYet these fixed evils sit so fit in him\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat they take place when virtue's steely bones\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLooks bleak i'th'cold wind. Withal, full oft we see\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Save you, fair queen!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN And you, monarch!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES No.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN And no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you. Let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity: how may we barricado it against him?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Keep him out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES There is none. Man setting down before you will undermine you and blow you up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up. Marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettle to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found. By being ever kept, it is ever lost. 'Tis too cold a companion. Away with't!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES There's little can be said in't, 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers, which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese, consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't! Within ten year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with't!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Let me see. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying: the longer kept, the less worth. Off with't while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly suited but unsuitable, just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears: it looks ill, it eats dryly. Marry, 'tis a withered pear: it was formerly better: marry, yet 'tis a withered pear. Will you anything with it?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN Not my virginity yet -\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere shall your master have a thousand loves,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA mother and a mistress and a friend,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA phoenix, captain and an enemy,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA counsellor, a traitress, and a dear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis humble ambition, proud humility,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis faith, his sweet disaster. With a world\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he -\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI know not what he shall. God send him well!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe court's a learning place, and he is one-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES What one, i'faith?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN That I wish well. 'Tis pity-\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES What's pity?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN That wishing well had not a body in't,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhich might be felt, that we, the poorer born,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMight with effects of them follow our friends,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd show what we alone must think, which never\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReturns us thanks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnter Page\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAGE Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit]\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Under Mars, ay.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN I especially think, under Mars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Why under Mars?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES When he was predominant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN When he was retrograde, I think rather.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES Why think you so?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN You go so much backward when you fight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES That's for advantage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN So is running away, when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePAROLLES I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ebe capable of a courtier's counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee. Else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers. When thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. [Exit]\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHELEN Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhich we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGives us free scope, only doth backward pull\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOur slow designs when we ourselves are dull.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat power is it which mounts my love so high,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe mightiest space in fortune nature brings\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo join like likes and kiss like native things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eImpossible be strange attempts to those\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat weigh their pains in sense and do suppose\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat hath been cannot be. Who ever strove\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo show her merit that did miss her love?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe king's disease - my project may deceive me,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut my intents are fixed and will not leave me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExit\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e[Act 1 Scene 2] running scene 2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFlourish cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters, and divers Attendants\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING The Florentines and Senoys are by th'ears,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHave fought with equal fortune and continue\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA braving war.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFIRST LORD So 'tis reported, sir.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING Nay, 'tis most credible. We here receive it\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA certainty, vouched from our cousin Austria,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith caution that the Florentine will move us\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor speedy aid, wherein our dearest friend\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePrejudicates the business and would seem\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo have us make denial.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFIRST LORD His love and wisdom,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eApproved so to your majesty, may plead\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor amplest credence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING He hath armed our answer,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd Florence is denied before he comes:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYet, for our gentlemen that mean to see\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Tuscan service, freely have they leave\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo stand on either part.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSECOND LORD It well may serve\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA nursery to our gentry, who are sick\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor breathing and exploit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING What's he comes here?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEnter Bertram, Lafew and Parolles\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFIRST LORD It is the Count Rossillion, my good lord,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYoung Bertram.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face. To Bertram\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrank nature, rather curious than in haste,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM My thanks and duty are your majesty's.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING I would I had that corporal soundness now,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs when thy father and myself in friendship\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFirst tried our soldiership. He did look far\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInto the service of the time and was\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDiscipled of the bravest. He lasted long,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut on us both did haggish age steal on\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd wore us out of act. It much repairs me\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo talk of your good father; in his youth\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe had the wit which I can well observe\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eToday in our young lords. But they may jest\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTill their own scorn return to them unnoted\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEre they can hide their levity in honour.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWere in his pride or sharpness; if they were,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis equal had awaked them, and his honour,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClock to itself, knew the true minute when\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eException bid him speak, and at this time\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below him\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe used as creatures of another place\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd bowed his eminent top to their low ranks,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaking them proud of his humility,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn their poor praise he humbled. Such a man\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMight be a copy to these younger times;\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhich, followed well, would demonstrate them now\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut goers backward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM His good remembrance, sir,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo in approof lives not his epitaph\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs in your royal speech.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING Would I were with him! He would always say -\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMethinks I hear him now. His plausive words\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe scattered not in ears, but grafted them,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo grow there and to bear - 'Let me not live' -\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis his good melancholy oft began\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn the catastrophe and heel of pastime,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen it was out - 'Let me not live,' quoth he,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll but new things disdain; whose judgements are\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMere fathers of their garments, whose constancies\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExpire before their fashions.' This he wished.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI, after him, do after him wish too,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSince I nor wax nor honey can bring home,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI quickly were dissolvèd from my hive\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo give some labourers room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSECOND LORD You're loved, sir.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey that least lend it you shall lack you first.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSince the physician at your father's died?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was much famed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM Some six months since, my lord.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKING If he were living, I would try him yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLend me an arm: the rest have worn me out\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith several applications. Nature and sickness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDebate it at their leisure. Welcome, count.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy son's no dearer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBERTRAM Thank your majesty. Exeunt. Flourish","brand":"Penguin Classics","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304734150885,"sku":"NP9780140714609","price":12.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780140714609.jpg?v=1767721329","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/alls-well-that-ends-well-isbn-9780140714609","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}