[In the following excerpt, Price analyzes the structure and exposition of All's Well That Ends Well, and argues that the play is excellently balanced.]

What is the nature of All's Well that Ends Well? Does that nature, justify the coexistence of these various literary modes? We have three pieces of evidence: the text of the play, its source, and a general knowledge of Shakespeare's artistic methods as dramatist and poet.² Presumably, the text provides the final version of a play prepared for performance on stage. Variations between the text and its source provide clues to the intention of the playwright; deliberate changes suggest specific effects. Shakespeare's general method as a dramatist provides the foundation for particular judgements in this play. His methods as a poet have significance in that his artistry in imagery and symbol, in irony and vision, may surpass the immediate comprehension of a theatrical audience. I propose, then, to examine the nature of All's Well on the basis of this evidence.

The first scene of All's Well is excellent exposition. Mood, plot, character, and theme are deftly sketched in lines which, characteristic of Shakespeare's economy, serve several functions. The Countess's mourning for her late husband and her melancholy at the departure of her son, the regretful recollections of Gerard de Narbon and his medical skill, the despairing talk of the King's disease, and the tears of Helena establish a sombre mood. The deaths of the two fathers set up a parallel between hero and heroine which is extended throughout the play as the structural basis for the plot. Bertram and Helena are both wards: Bertram, we are told, will find in the King a second father; Helena has already been bequeathed to the Countess's overlooking. As the plot develops, both, ironically, object to their wardships. Because of her love for Bertram and her fear of acknowledging him as brother, Helena protests against the Countess's use of the title 'mother'. Because of his contempt for Helena, Bertram protests against the father-king's arrangement of his marriage. The marriage forces Bertram to flee from King and Court as a soldier; his desertion forces Helena to flee from Countess and home as a pilgrim. Only in the final scene are the young people reconciled to an acceptable relationship: Helena's 'O my dear mother' (v. iii. 313) is uttered not to her mother-guardian, but to her mother-in-law. In addition to the structural function in the plot, references to the deceased fathers characterize the children. The Countess describes Helena in terms of inherited and acquired virtues:

I have those hopes of her good that her education promises her dispositions she inherits—which make 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.

(I. i. 36-42)⁴

Helena is praised for perfecting those natural qualities which she has derived from her father. This characterization, moreover, elicits from the Countess a theme of the play: inherited qualities must be nurtured before goodness is achieved. If they are ruled by an 'unclean mind', they become traitors to our characters. The dramatic elaboration of this theme is the basis for the characterization of Bertram, who fails to cultivate his inherited nobility. Thus the Countess's praise of Helena is restated as dispraise of Bertram in Act IV. In a thematic judgement upon mankind generally and Bertram specifically, the Second Lord defines us as 'merely our own traitors . . . so he [Bertram] that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself (IV. iii. 20-24). At this early moment in the play, however, we have only to realize that Bertram has yet to develop inherited qualities, that he has yet to achieve that goodness which is Helena's. The terms of his conflict are made explicit in the hopeful farewell of his mother:

Be thou bless'd, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners as in shape! Thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright.

(I. i. 57-60)

The talk of death and departure characterize the elders as well. In 'the most beautiful old woman's part ever written', a widow's grief and a mother's anxiety are mollified by the dignity of the Countess, a 'breeding' which, as another instance of the thematic nurturing of inherited qualities, prefigures the potential maturity of Bertram. Lafeu's concerned responses to her demonstrate his warm amiability. His role as court councillor is implicit in his description of the King's virtue and of the disease which plagues the King. The description not only introduces the King but also prepares the audience for the first major action. For, the Countess's reply, 'Would for the king's sake, he [Gerard de Narbon] were living! I think it would be the death of king's disease' (I. i. 20-22), serves the plot in two ways. It suggests to the thoughtful Helena a means of fulfilling her love; as an exclamation of faith, it makes the consequent cure of the King more plausible to the audience.

The lines of the hero and heroine in the first part of the scene do little to extend the characterizations beyond the delineations of the Countess. In her only line, Helena hints at a motive of grief which is comprehensible only in her first soliloquy. Bertram's lines have been interpreted as indications of a vicious temperament, but this premature view of his personality destroys the dramatic effect of Helena's revelation of her love. His 'Madam, I desire your holy wishes' (I. i. 55) may be a brash interruption in the discussion of grief, but, even as such, it is no worse than might be expected from an 'unseason'd courtier' (I. i. 67). In itself, the line is indifferent; the suggestion of a faulty text, the insertion of stage business, or merely the intonation of the voice obscures Shakespeare's intention. Indifferent too are his parting words to Helena, 'Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her' (I. i. 73-74). But surely in this case, their indifference is the very point of the lines. There is neither warmth nor scorn. From Bertram's view, the departing son bids the household dependant to assist his mother. An indifferent Bertram intensifies the effect of Helena's soliloquy.

In a brief seventy-six lines, the exposition has prepared the audience for the play's primary interest, the seemingly futile love of Helena:

O, were that all! I think not on my father,
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him; my imagination
Carries no favour in't but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away; 'twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me.
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table—heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.

(I. i. 77-96)

In the revelation of her love, Helena sketches such an attractive portrait of Bertram that the attention of the audience is redirected to the hero. The rather indifferent young man who has just left the stage now assumes a romantic image.⁵ Shakespeare makes use of this device throughout All's Well. More typical of Shakespeare's dramatic technique is the introduction of a major character, through the speech of another, before he appears on stage. In All's Well, however, Helena constantly follows Bertram on stage to interpret his conduct through her love. The reason for the device is clear: the reaction of the audience is not to be fixed by his conduct; rather, the conduct is to be reconsidered in the light of her love. This device, of course, does not prevent Shakespeare from foreshadowing the actions of Bertram. Bertram's later objection to Helena because of class distinction gains some legitimacy in this speech by Helena's admission that the difference in social rank constitutes an apparently insuperable obstacle to her love. This kind of foreshadowing makes more acceptable the subsequent reconsideration demanded of the audience.

The entire first scene shows a gradual shift in mood from darkness to light. The soliloquy is pivotal in that shift. (Helena's soliloquy initiates a change in mood which brightens as the scene progresses.) The sombre response to death is not to be extended into the play, and Helena's dismissal of it, 'O, were that all! . . .' leads us into the world of comedy. With Helena, we are not to be involved in death, in the potentially tragic circumstances of the opening lines, but in life and love. The romantic exaggeration of her loss—the departure of Bertram outweighs death—lightens the tone. Even a serious concern for the futility of her love is undermined by the sentimental picture which Helena draws of herself sketching Bertram's features in her heart. In the same spirit of young love is her worshipful 'my idolatrous fancy / Must sanctify his relics'. Both imagery and diction reinforce the shift in mood. Images of death and darkness yield to 'bright particular star' and 'Bright radiance and collateral light'. The Countess's 'I bury a second husband' is now vitalized in Helena's:

The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love.

As a striking instance of Shakespearian compression, the sentence not only contributes to the mood, not only defines the distinctive quality of the love and Helena's awareness of it, but also foreshadows the plot on two levels. On the denotative level of 'die', Helena is mated to Bertram, then feigns death, and finally wins him; on the sexually connotative level of 'die', Helena is mated to Bertram, but wins him only after the 'death' of sexual union.

The soliloquy is interrupted by the entrance of Parolles, and the comic mood shines more brightly. For Parolles is colourful and alluring:

Who comes here?
One that goes with him; I love him for his sake,
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him
That they take place when virtue's steely bones
Looks bleak Γ th' cold wind; withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

(I. i. 97-103)

In a choral role, Helena, who has just delineated Bertram for the audience, now indicates the intended response to Parolles. Although he has serious faults, we are not to consider them seriously. In fact, in the world of comedy, these faults 'sit so fit' in him that the absurdity of the character dismisses any moral judgement. Other evidence supports his attractiveness. Parolles mixes freely with the other young lords at court and appears to deceive them temporarily (II. i); the First Lord attributes a seductive charm to him (III. ii. 90-91); and, even Lafeu admits the disgraced braggart into his household (V. ii. 49-51). Helena's assessment of Parolles establishes a basis for the justification of Bertram. The structural link between Bertram and Parolles is made later, but Helena's acceptance of the vices of the braggart anticipates her willingness to accept the faults of her beloved. Although Helena's motivation is love, the contributing congeniality of Parolles must surely be matched or surpassed by the external charm of Bertram. Until his defiance of the King, there is nothing in the text to support a disagreeable Bertram. He is escorted to Court by the King's chief adviser, welcomed affectionately by the King, and is adopted as a comrade by the other lords. After his defiance, he is still received warmly wherever he goes. He is commissioned general of the troop by the Duke of Florence, praised by the Widow and her neighbour, and is attractive to Diana. He is readily forgiven by the Countess, the King, and Lafeu; Lafeu's daughter is willing to marry him. Most important, his appeal is essential to Helena's love. In this speech, Shakespeare paints the broad stripes of Parolles's personality as a hint of the finer lines in Bertram.

There is little need to justify the humour of the virginity repartee which follows. It has a comic appeal for the modern audience as well as the Elizabethan, if not for the Victorian. What has been obscured in the argument over propriety, however, is the structural function of the duologue.⁷ Just prior to it in her first soliloquy, Helena has expressed the futility of her love; just after it in her second soliloquy, she resolves to fulfill her love. What happens between these two speeches must account for the difference in attitude. In the interim, Parolles has engaged Helena in a typically Elizabethan wordplay upon the term virginity. How does Helena react? At first, she falls in with his banter. To his question, 'Are you meditating on virginity?' she poses a question which will feed the exchange, 'Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him?' The question and her next few replies serve the comedy, but we note that there is little interchange thereafter. Parolles dominates the stage, delights the audience with his argument against virginity. Meanwhile, the topic has dropped Helena into a reverie which links her two soliloquies. Parolles's first exclamation, 'Away with't!' intrudes upon her thoughts and her answer reflects the first soliloquy, 'I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.' After another exhortation, his second exclamation, 'Away with't!' intrudes again, but this revealing reply foreshadows her second soliloquy, 'How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?' The singular, personal form of both lines contrasts with Helena's general applications to virgins at the beginning of the duologue.

There are several ironies in the exchange between Parolles and Helena. The couching of the discussion in military terms is natural to the braggart-soldier, but the assault of man and the barricade of woman are reversed in Bertram and Helena. It is Bertram who flees before the offer of Helena; moreover, he prefers war to a conquest of her virginity. It is ironic that Parolles prompts the plan that leads to his young master's flight. So too, his urging, 'Out with't! Within the year it will make itself two' is actualized in an 'increase' which brings Bertram to accept his wife. There is irony in that Parolles assists Helena in the loss of her virginity, for he acts as pander between Bertram and Diana. The duologue, although many critics have insisted to the contrary, is demonstrably not an interpolation.

Editors have generally agreed that the speech of Helena's which follows shows signs of textual corruption because of its abrupt shifts, the ambiguity in its second line, and its obscure dramatic function:

Not my virginity; yet . . .
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,

A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring-concord, and his discord-dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious Christendoms
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he—
I know not what he shall. God send him well!
The court's a learning-place, and he is one—

(I. i. 161-73)

Mr. Hunter is hesitant to concede a textual corruption and annotates the lines to suggest a pattern of continuity. Helena is 'fooling the time'; she uses abrupt transitions to conceal her deeper meanings from Parolles. The annotation, however, raises a problem for the actress who must convey these deeper meanings to the audience while she conceals them from Parolles. I believe that a restoration of the first line as it appears in the First Folio may make the speech intelligible and prompt a solution to the actress. The Folio reads, 'Not my virginity yet:'. Literally, the line is a satisfactory answer to Parolles's question, 'Will you anything with it?' If the line is delivered in the same distracted manner as I have suggested for the duologue, with a slight stress upon 'yet', it likewise reveals to the audience what has absorbed Helena—the formulation of a plan which involves an action precedent to the loss of virginity, a plan which is made explicit in the second soliloquy, the cure of the king as a remedy for her love. The vocalization of her thought before Parolles startles Helena, however, and she quickly redirects the conversation. The redirection is marked stylistically by a shift from prose to verse. With a gesture that indicates the Court, or at least the departure of Parolles and Bertram (Parolles might very well have set down baggage to which Helena points), Helena engages Parolles in courtly, fashionable talk of love and its conceits. Eager for a new line of wordplay, Parolles, amused, waits to reply. When Helena places Bertram in this love cult, however, her own feelings break over this witty patter and she cannot continue, 'Now shall he—I know not what he shall.' Her awareness that 'The court's a learning-place, and he is one—' frightens her. The recital of love titles which were meant to conceal the hint of the first line has instead built up an anxiety which strengthens her reason for action. Her anxiety is apparent even to Parolles, who responds not with banter, not with a bawdy analysis of love at court, but with unaffected questions that seek an explanation. Helena's reply is a riddle to Parolles but it conveys to the audience her desire that her love might manifest itself tangibly to Bertram. The entrance of the Page cuts off further questions and the scene falls back into prose.

The exchange adds credibility to the love of Helena and to the later developments of the plot. Helena recognizes traits in Bertram which make him easy prey for courtly fashions and courtly love. Despite these traits and the anxiety which they arouse in her, she determines to win him. Her insight and her acceptance prepare the audience for Bertram's conduct and weaken any condemnation of him.

The interruption by the Page marks a return to the bantering style at the beginning of the virginity duologue. Her quick retorts illustrate the wit and zest by which Helena easily overcomes Parolles, as she did not do when distracted by her own thoughts. Her jests underscore the braggart's cowardice which will be exposed later. As Helena knows Bertram, so she knows Parolles. In fact, it is she, not Lafeu as so many critics argue, who is the first to see through him.

The scene ends with Helena's second soliloquy in which she reveals her resolution to win Bertram and hints at the King's disease as the means. Her thoughts and images link this soliloquy closely to the first. If earlier she had sighed, 'I am undone', she now decides, 'Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie.' If she had regretted the distance which made Bertram a 'bright particular star', she now decides, 'the fated sky / Gives us free scope'. If she had blamed the ambition in her love 'which thus plagues itself, she now asks, 'What power is it that mounts my love so high?' and suggests nature as the answer. If she had decided earlier that 'the hind that would be mated by the lion / Must die for love', she now sees that only those 'who weigh their pain in sense' refuse the attempt. The hind and lion have now become 'like likes'. Is Helena now the aggressive female condemned by so many critics?

I do not think so. What has Shakespeare done, what can the actress do, to protect Helena during this transformation? First, Shakespeare has tied these soliloquies together so that the second recalls the first, and the actress can reinforce this by posture and gesture. The Helena of the second soliloquy recalls the loving maiden of whom we all approved in the first soliloquy. Second, Shakespeare has made Parolles the unwitting source of the idea; through his bawdiness, as a scapegoat, he carries away any reproach which decorum might dictate. Third, Helena's introductory association of Parolles with Bertram gives a psychological validity to her absorption in Bertram while Parolles jests about virginity. Fourth, because of that absorption, Shakespeare preserves her indecorous participation in ribaldry. While Parolles roguishly delights the audience with his wordplay, Helena indifferently serves as a foil to his wit and ponders the problem of her love. Finally, Shakespeare softens her resolution in the soliloquy by couching it in a general romantic 'truth':

Who ever strove
To show her merit that did miss her love?

(I. i. 222-3)

The structure of All's Well displays superb craftsmanship; as so often in the plays of Shakespeare, balance is the principle of construction. The second scene creates the background for the hero's interest—military honours and the adventures of war; the third scene promotes Helena's interest—her love for Bertram. The interview at Court gains credit for Bertram through the King's eulogy of the deceased Count Rousillon. The commendation of the Countess and the tenderness of the scene at Rousillon gather sympathy for Helena. The King concludes his scene by expressing his regard for Bertram, 'My son's no dearer' (I. ii. 76); the Countess ends the third scene with full approval of her ward:

and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.

(I. iii. 250-1)

Shakespeare has begun both scenes along lines which quite similarly introduce the sub-plots. The second scene opens with a sketchy discussion of the Florentine war. Some critics have seen in the vagueness of the reports a cynical attitude on the part of the dramatist to the war, and consequently to masculine poses of honour. Rather, the vagueness indicates to the audience its degree of concern. We are not to bother about the merits of the opposing forces, nor about the tragic potential of war, for the dramatic function of the Florentine battle is merely setting for the involvements of Bertram and the exposure of Parolles. The third scene begins with the Clown's request for permission to marry, but this too we are not to take seriously. The request touches off the customary parody of the main plot by the Shakespearian clown. His interview with the Countess just prior to Helena's interview reminds us of the mimicry between Prince Hal and Falstaff which anticipates Hal's audience with his father in I Henry IV. The effect is much the same: the comic burlesque heightens the dramatic intensity but undermines the tragic potential of the ensuing confrontation. The Clown presents his request in the form of an old proverb, 'Service is no heritage', which expresses Helena's present state. His paraphrase however, 'and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue a' my body', looks ahead to Helena's state after Bertram has decreed his conditions. We have already heard the sweet strains of Helena's love in her soliloquies; soon, that love will be strengthened by divine support. The Clown explains his love simply as the needs of his body and adds 'other holy reasons, such as they are' (I. iii. 30-31). Among these holy reasons, the Clown includes, ''I do marry that I may repent', and his words will echo in the last scene of the play when Bertram falls to his knees before Helena. The Clown's eager acceptance of his wife's 'friends' looks back to Helena's affection for Parolles and forward to the parasite's betrayal of that affection. Lavache amusingly formulates a theme of the play when he says, 'That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done' (I. iii. 89-90). In its context, it is an admission that he has served under the command of the Countess and has survived through her kindness. As a theme, it announces that no harm shall come to the hero through the manipulations of the heroine. We are told, in effect, that All's Well is a comedy. His line is paraphrased throughout the play; in her interview with the Countess, Helena protests:

Be not offended, for it hurts not him
That he is lov'd of me.

(I. iii. 191-2)

If the phrasing by the Clown has a sexual connotation as some editors believe, there is still significance to the main plot. If 'hurt' connotes the loss of virginity, then Bertram who 'should be at woman's command' upon the authority of the King fulfills the Clown's 'no hurt done' by his flight from Helena. If 'hurt' connotes the loss of chastity, the 'command' of Helena in substituting herself, his lawful wife, in the attempted seduction of Diana preserves both Bertram and Diana from 'hurt'.

Yet, to regard the Clown as a choral commentator upon the love of Helena and the major plot, to ascribe his cynicism to Shakespeare's philosophy, is to ignore the text and the role of the clown in the plays. Quite clearly, the Clown uses marriage as a means to sensual satisfaction; Helena uses the loss of virginity as a means to gain her 'bright particular star'. The critic who confuses the two reveals his own cynicism, not Shakespeare's. Lavache's reasons for marrying Isbel no more tarnish the love of Helena than the same reasons of Touchstone for marrying Audrey tarnish the love of Rosalind. Touchstone in As You Like It, Feste in Twelfth Night, Lucio in Measure for Measure, Thersites in Troilus and Cressida, Lavache in All's Well, all comment upon life with varying degrees of cynicism. To identify the Fool with the dramatist is to reduce the vision of Shakespeare to a single focus.

Particularly illustrative of the parallel development in these two scenes are the speeches of the Countess and the King. Before the entrance of Helena, the Countess comments, 'Her father bequeath'd her to me' and prepares the audience for Helena's success, 'She herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds; there is more owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than she'll demand' (I. iii. 97-101). At the entrance of Bertram, the King comments, 'Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face' and prepares the audience for Bertram's conflict, 'Thy father's moral parts / Mayest thou inherit too!' (I. ii. 19-22). As the King then recalls his own youth, he describes Bertram's father as the greatest of soldiers and the humblest of men. The King has just noted the physical identification of father and son; his words now anticipate the military reputation which Bertram is to achieve as general of the troop and justify the final submission of Bertram when he fits the moral image of his father. So too, the Countess's recollection of her youth and 'love's strong passion' (I. iii. 123-31) serves as anticipation of Helena's plan and justification for her love. The confession of that love is preceded by Helena's amusing opposition to the term 'mother'; Bertram's struggle to become his father's son is lightly and ironically parodied in Helena's refusal to remain her adopted mother's daughter. As the King has prepared us for Bertram's success in battle, the Countess's response to Helena's confession prepares us for her successful cure of the King:

Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,
Means and attendants, and my loving greetings
To those of mine in Court. I'll stay at home
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt.

(I. iii. 246-9)

A touching similarity in the speeches of the King and Countess is their simple expression of humility and insight: Royalty realizes, 'I fill a place, I know't' (I. ii. 69), and Wisdom recalls, 'Even so it was with me when I was young' (I. iii. 123).

At the end of Act I, what did the 'first-night' audience make of All's Well that Ends Well? An attractive young lord departs fondly but impatiently from his charming mother. He sets out for adventure and manhood with experience and folly as companions. He arrives at Court and is greeted affectionately by his benevolent King. Meanwhile, he is loved without his knowledge by a virtuous dependant in his household. She is deeply and seemingly futilely in love with him. Despite the barrier of rank, she elects to risk all dangers to win him. She knows that she has the support of his mother and she senses the approval of heaven (I. iii. 237-41). Has not Shakespeare led his audience to three questions which excited its suspense: in terms of romance, will the beautiful and virtuous maiden win her nobleman? in terms of a morality tradition, will the noble youth be led by experience or folly? in terms of philosophical theme, can virtue be equated with nobility of birth?

That Shakespeare has intended romance at this point of his play may be demonstrated by the changes which he has made in Boccaccio's rather realistic Giletta, the source-counterpart for Helena. Giletta has not seen Beltramo for a number of years; she has come of age, is independently wealthy, and has many suitors. The report of Beltramo's comeliness, however, increases her ardour for him, and she seeks a method of escaping the surveillance of her kinsmen to pursue her love. On her arrival in Paris, she visits Beltramo before she cures the King. Although she tells the King that God will aid her in the cure, she has already diagnosed the disease as one which her father's medicine will easily cure. By eliminating the kinsfolk and wealth, Shakespeare has made his heroine more dependent upon her virtue and has heightened the romantic barrier between heroine and hero. By omitting the rival suitors and reducing Helena's age, Shakespeare has preserved the youthful innocence of her love. Giletta, capable, knowledgeable, self-sufficient, wins her husband through the force of her personality. Helena performs much the same deeds, but always with greater hesitation, greater risk, and greater humility. Helena is motivated by the irrepressible force of young love which ignores decorum as the simple directness of a child ignores it. Giletta, confident of her power, will compound medicine to heal the King; Helena, confident of her love, will call upon heaven to cure him. Boccaccio makes realistic the clever wench of fable. Shakespeare, on the contrary, fashions his heroine out of romantic aspirations and places his realism elsewhere in the play. . . .

The major problem in the denouement of All's Well is Bertram's reconciliation with Helena. Although the trial of Parolles prefigures the trial of Bertram, the braggart's exposure is merely a preparation for the solution of the problem, not a justification of it. Both men are crushed by plots, but the hero must rise to love. In Boccaccio's narrative, Giletta has many rendezvous with Beltramo in the guise of his Florentine love. When she is certain of her pregnancy, she hides herself from Beltramo and awaits the birth of her child in Florence. Beltramo, disappointed by the loss of his mistress, returns to his own home. Giletta delivers twins who strongly resemble the Count. After a while, she returns to France to confront the Count with the fulfilment of his conditions. On the Feast of All Saints, Beltramo entertains an assembly of knights and ladies. Giletta, in pilgrim's garb, rushes to the feet of her husband with the twins in her arms. Beltramo is astonished. Giletta's story wins the admiration of the Count and all the guests. Because of her wit and constancy, his delight over his sons, and the entreaties of the ladies Beltramo embraces Giletta and they live happily ever after. Boccaccio has solved the problem of the denouement through realistic plot details and literary legend.

Shakespeare solves the problem through realistic characterization. Although the number of meetings in the novella increases the likelihood of pregnancy, although the proof which Giletta offers is a more obvious demonstration of the fulfilment, although her simple plea to the mature Count is a more plausible method of presenting her case, none of these details would induce the young Bertram to accept Helena in Shakespeare's version. Time and pressure are both vital to the dramatist's characterization.²¹ Until Bertram matures, he cannot value his wife's virtues. His maturity must be forged under the successive strokes of adversity. To allow a number of years to pass, as in Boccaccio, destroys the entire effect of Parolles's exposure. In All's Well, before Helena can submit to Bertram, the young nobleman must submit to her. Only then can we believe in his love. Shakespeare has sacrificed realistic action for psychological motivation, but in the theatre the loss is inconsequential. The complications of the plot remain incredible even in Boccaccio; the many meetings between Giletta and Beltramo scarcely make the success of her disguise plausible.

The first step in the explanation of the psychology of Bertram is the reiteration of the strong influence which Parolles formerly held on him. Lafeu's insistence that, had it not been for Parolles, Bertram would have won advancement at Court by now makes evident the inherent capability and attractiveness of the young Count. The second step in the psychological justification for the denouement is the exhilaration of the hero as he comes before the King. His fortunes have reached their apex. As I have noted, he has been received back into the household of his mother; he has been offered the daughter of a leading nobleman in marriage; he fears no consequences from his escapade in Florence; he has been assured of the King's pardon. His desertion of his wife, his disobedience to the King, his neglect of his mother's pleas, and his venture as a lover have had no consequences. Even the exposure of Parolles may bolster his ego; he has surpassed his former idol. For Bertram, his noble birth, his handsome appearance, his amiable personality, and his courage in war have overcome all obstacles. He has won 'honour' in the limited sense which the word has for him. Even the King acknowledges, 'I have letters sent me / That set him high in fame' (V. iii. 30-31). We can imagine Bertram's supreme confidence as he answers the King's question about Lafeu's daughter:

Admiringly, my liege. At first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue;
Where, the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour,
Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stol'n,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object. Thence it came
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

(V. iii. 44-55)

Bertram speaks of Lafeu's daughter in the same affected language with which he wooed Diana. He feels that he has mastered the courtly style. Psychologically as well as morally, Bertram is ripe for a fall. The series of events which follow in this last scene, so often condemned as contrived, are essential to the breakdown of Bertram's ego to the point where he has an awareness of self and an understanding of true nobility.

When Lafeu asks for a token of love for his daughter, Bertram hands to him a ring which he has received from Diana. Both Lafeu and the King identify it as Helena's. Bertram's first response is a matter-of-fact denial. But, as they press their questions, the youth passes to irritation and then anxiety that their 'mistake' may threaten his newly won prosperity. The significance which the King attaches to the ring puzzles both Bertram and the audience. The audience had not been informed of this second ring, and its place in Helena's plan creates suspense. Shakespeare deliberately compounds the action of this crowded scene in order to manage the total response of the audience.

Bertram's lies begin his exposure. Fearfully, he attempts to explain away the ring. The King, however, suspecting that Bertram has killed his wife, orders him to be seized and ted into custody. (We are reminded of Parolles's seizure and exit under guard before his trial.) In a few minutes, Bertram has seen his fortune plunge and his very life endangered. While he is off-stage, the second blow strikes at his new fame. Diana accuses Bertram of seduction and dishonour; he is summoned before the King to answer this charge. In rapid sequence which recalls the wild lies of Parolles, he first denies intimacy with her, then brands her as a campfollower, discredits any testimony of Parolles, and finally accuses Diana of seducing him. His desperation to salvage some remnant of 'honour' only reveals that same pride which initiated his predicament:

She knew her distance and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and in fine
Her infinite cunning with her modern grace
Subdu'd me to her rate.

(V. iii. 211-16)

The evidence, however, is overwhelming. With the entrance of Parolles, Bertram begins to crumble. He admits that he has lied, that the ring is Diana's. The entrance of the chastened Parolles at just this moment emphasizes the humiliation of the Count. But the play is not a tragedy, and Shakespeare moves swiftly for Bertram's redemption. The audience, because of its superior knowledge, has not taken seriously any of the charges and counter-charges. Even the mood, darkened by the grim desperation of Bertram, is now lightened. A rattled Parolles blurts out absurd replies to the questions of the King. Laughter at the scapegoat relieves the pressure upon the hero. In addition, the effect of Bertram's slanders is minimized by the new tone which Diana adopts. To the King's questions about the ring, Diana answers in exasperating riddles. Dr. Johnson concluded that there was no reason for puzzling the King, and, within the logical demands of the plot, he is correct. There is a most important reason, however, for the comic tone of the play. The banter of Diana dispels the potentially tragic atmosphere. The audience delights in the perplexity of the King, the bewilderment of Lafeu, and the amazement of Bertram.

Just as the King's anger mounts, Diana assures him that no harm has been done (V. iii. 293). The appearance of Helena solves the riddle and completes the transformation of Bertram. He who had lost all hope of favour, reputation, love, even of life, suddenly sees redemption. He does not understand the manner, but he knows that his wife lives and is somehow allied with Diana. In recognition of his own faults, he begs pardon of Helena. He realizes the virtue of his wife before he knows of its dedication to him. The explanation of the ring and the child increases his feeling; it does not cause it as in Boccaccio. All is well that ends well. Lafeu weeps for joy and turns to 'Good Tom Drum' for a handkerchief (how subtly does Shakespeare improve Parolles's fate!). Helena and the Countess embrace. And the King, in the spirit of romance which stresses the comic nature of the play, promises a husband now to Diana!²²

All's Well that Ends Well is a play which includes many elements, but they are not incongruous. To isolate a few examples, I point to the romance of the first act with its strong emotional sense of loss and frustrated love; consider the realistic characterization in the second act as the characters respond to Bertram's rejection of Helena; consider the melodramatic moments of the third act, Helena's expression of selfless love, her exile, her discovery of her husband's passion in Florence; consider the fabulous elements of the fourth act with the fulfilment of tasks; consider the symbolism of the fifth act as it centres upon the ancestral ring and the jewel of chastity. These elements, however, cannot be isolated nor can any one be imposed upon the others as a unifying device without damage to Shakespeare's play. Shakespeare has given unity to All's Well. He has unified the play through its structure: the play is tightly knit through parallels, parodies, anticipations, and commentaries. He has unified the play through its theme: the word honour rings throughout the play and synonyms increase its force. As he does in other plays, Shakespeare weaves together character and incident with variations upon his theme in much the same manner as the composer of a symphony. Variations sound in Bertram, who misunderstands honour; in the King, who demands honour; in the Countess and Lafeu who have lived honour; in the Clown, who preaches honour; in the surprisingly serious young lords, who recognize the dilemmas of honour; and in Helena, whose virtue gains honour. The play is unified moreover by the development of its subject. All's Well is not the demonstration of an ideological struggle between male and female concepts of honour, as G. Wilson Knight suggests. More simply, Shakespeare tells the story of a foolish young man who is brought to a true understanding of honour through the love of a virtuous girl. She is aided by all the other characters of the play, male and female, young and old, with the exception of Parolles. The subject is unified by its tight progression from the Countess's opening comment to her son, 'Thy blood and virtue / Contend for empire in thee' (I. i. 58-59) to the final reconciliation of Helena and Bertram when nobility of birth shares the empire with nobility of virtue.

Perhaps the major factor in the failure of All's Well to rival As You Like It, Twelfth Night, or The Tempest is its mood. The great Shakespearian comedy is unified by a characteristic mood by which, in itself, we can identify the play. All's Well lacks that distinctive quality. But the imposition of a single mood from without, the adoption of a single approach to the play, may be more damaging than critical resignation to this lack. All's Well fares far better if each of its elements is exploited rather than ignored. I suggest that the director who draws out each character, each situation, each parallel, each seemingly diverse element, will solve many of the problems of past productions. I believe that the ideal production will trust to Shakespeare: the serious scenes will be played with respect for the gravity of the issues; the comic scenes will give full play to both wit and farce; the suspense of the plot will swing the audience along the road of high romance, untroubled by the fabulous complications; most important, the human qualities of all the characters will be affectingly unfolded. For All's Well that Ends Well is a very human play.

Notes

² The critical history of All's Well includes many analyses which are based upon other material, particularly upon biographical details and philosophical outlook of the dramatist. Even were these not conjectural, they are still subservient to the primary evidence of play, source, and general artistic method. . . .

⁴ In his note to this passage, Mr. Hunter maintains, 'The antithesis between mind and virtuous qualities is between inherited nature and the qualities imparted by training. Virtuous qualities does not mean "fine moral qualities", but "the qualities of a virtuoso, skill, capacity, technical prowess"' (p. 5).

⁵ Clearly, the actor who plays Bertram must be physically attractive. A handsome young hero not only explains his appeal to Helena and Diana but also compensates somewhat for the defect in his personality. . . .

⁷ Mr. Hunter mentions the structural function but relates it to the virginity theme; for his interpretations of the function, see pp. xli-xliii. . . .

²¹ Dr. Johnson's note that Shakespeare is 'hastening to the end of the play', that he 'wanted to conclude his play', ignores the necessary pressure upon Bertram.

²² Critics who see this as sheer cynicism on Shakespeare's part disregard a similar ending in The Comedy of Errors where a new confusion between twin masters and twin servants comically concludes the play.