This one perplexes me. It's utterly unremarkable other than it involves a batshit plot that summarizes like a particularly juicy episode of Jerry Springer. It has a mere handful of sparkling quotes and doesn't seem to have taken up much of Shakespeare's brain power. It may not have even been totally written by him anyway, and I'm apt to believe that idea. That said, with only a soupçon of monologues/soliloquies dropped throughout, I totally understand all the characters' personalities and motivations EXCEPT the smartest and most prominent of them all: Helena, the main protagonist. I just. Don't. Get. Her. For reasons you shall soon discover.
The main themes of this play include the blindness of men. Blindness toward beauty, virtue, and their own lust for either women or notoriety. Also, women can be blinded by sexy dudes, despite all their faculties. Ugh. This is definitely one of those "problem plays" because it cannot be properly categorized. I categorize it as "batshit" but that's just me. Here we go then.
In Roussillon, France, Count Bertram prepares to leave to become a ward of the King, and his mother, the Countess, mourns this because her husband just died and she says that "In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband." Lafew, an elderly Lord, says that the King is sick of a fistula (ulcer) and the Countess mentions how unfortunate it is that the physician Gerard de Narbon has just died as well, as "he was skillful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality." Helena, the Countess' waiting gentlewoman and daughter of Gerard, weeps at the mention of her father, but she says to herself that she weeps more for the departure of Bertram, whom she loves for some fucking reason (I guess he's thirst-inducing or else she's a total dumbass). Helena knows that marriage to him is a ridiculous thought, as he is far above her station.
After she soliloquizes about this sucky situation, Parolles sneaks over to chat. His name translates to "words" in French, which is a comment on how full of hot air he is. He is Bertram's deceitful and cowardly follower who is reportedly always draped in fancy scarves and expensive clothes. Helena admits to herself that he is a jerk, but his attributes "sit so fit in him" that he's harmless. They have a long and punny conversation about virginity and whether or not a woman can guard it (she cannot, as that would be a waste of nature's intention for women!) and then he says farewell.
Helena soliloquizes some more about a plan she is hatching:
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high,
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose
What hath been cannot be: who ever strove
So show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease--my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me.
She's got chutzpah, I'll give her that.
The King receives Bertram to his court in Paris and he sings Bertram's dead father's praises. He recalls a quote he heard him say once:
'Let me not live,' quoth he,
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.'
The King also mentions that he would have tried Bertram's physician for his ailment if he were still living.
Back in Roussillon, Lavatch, the Countess' clown, announces that he intends to marry a woman named Isbel, and that he wishes the Countess' good will. Lavatch says his "poor body" "requires it [marriage]" because he must repent for his fleshly sins. She says they will talk about it later and she tells him to bring Helena to her so her Steward can talk to her. Lavatch just sings a song about Helen of Troy (how timely of Shakespeare to reference his own play from last week!) which basically drags all women as twats. Lavatch finally goes to fetch Helena while the Countess and the Steward talk about her. The Countess says the poor girl deserves better than she has and the Steward reports that he overheard Helena talking about how much she loves Bertram. The Countess says she suspected as much and asks him to keep it under his hat for now.
The Countess speaks with Helena and says she should think of her as her mother, and Helena makes a face. The Countess asks her why "does it curd thy blood" to say so? Helena says that would make Bertram her brother, and that wouldn't be cool. The Countess asks Helena to just admit that she loves Bertram already. Helena fesses up and essentially says "Please don't judge me, I know I am too poor and lowly to be your daughter-in-law." The Countess asks if Helena intended to go to Paris and Helena says yes, because she has some prescriptions her late father left behind that may cure the King. In the nicest way possible, the Countess asks why the F the King would trust "a poor unlearned virgin" with a cure and Helena believes deep down that it will work. The Countess smiles and says she will consent and send her to Paris with attendants and all her blessings.
The King bids farewell to some Lords going off to war while Bertram and Parolles stand aside and whinge about how they'd rather go to war to gain some honor than stick around by the dying King's side, but they're staying anyway despite their big talk. Lafew comes and introduces Helena, saying she has a proposal for him. Helena and the King then engage in a conversation almost entirely consisting of rhyming couplets, during which she convinces him that after two days of trying her cure, he will be better:
The great'st 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 his 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.
The Countess and Lavatch gab back and forth about how to act in court, with Lavatch proving that he has an answer to any question that can be posed to him: "O Lord, sir!" which was a popular "expletive" in the court at the time, which served to deprecate a yes or a no reply. She then tells him to go to the King's court to bring a message to Helena and he says he will go swiftly: "I am there before my legs."
Lafew waxes philosophically to Bertram and Parolles with a commentary on knowledge versus wonder and awe:
They say miracles are past; and we have our
philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar,
things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that
we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves
into seeming knowledge, when we should submit
ourselves to an unknown fear.
Now, there's a bit to unpack there. He's accusing intellectuals of reducing "supernatural" things to the commonplace and sheltering themselves in "seeming knowledge," when what people should really be doing is stand in awe of the unknown. Parolles just interrupts the rest of his speech with affirmatives, as if he has any idea what Lafew is talking about. They are speaking, of course, about how the King has been "miraculously" cured.
The King, Helen and some attendants enter and Parolles recognizes her. The King, keeping his word to her, points out his congregation of Lords and asks her to choose a husband. He says that "Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me." She goes down the line and Lafew can't believe that none of the men seem excited at the prospect of being husband to her. She finally chooses Bertram and he immediately balks. "A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain rather corrupt me ever!" he says, because he's a total snob. The King says wisely:
'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be
All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone
Is good without a name. Vileness is so:
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir,
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born
And is not like the sire: honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb
Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue and she
Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.
Bertram still refuses, because he's a shit. The King is disappointed, and Helena essentially says "Forget it... I am honored enough that you [the King] are cured." The King says that's nonsense, I am the King, and the King hath power to make his Lords do what he pleases. He says Bertram is scornful and unworthy of Helena, and he better do as he says or he'll disown him as Lord and friend. Bertram apologizes and says the King is right, and Helena is definitely "ennobled" by his words and honors. The King says the marriage will be performed that night with a feast to follow.
Everyone leaves except Lafew and Parolles, who comment on what just happened. Lafew says it's good that Bertram changed his mind and Parolles scoffs and says he was faking it. Lafew says he sees right through Parolles and insults him, though not as much as he deserves. Lafew leaves, seriously pissed off, so Bertram, now married, can re-enter. Bertram badmouths France and says he'll run off to the wars before he can be expected to bed Helena, and Parolles encourages him.
Lavatch gives Helena the letter from the Countess. Parolles comes to sarcastically congratulate her on her marriage and announce that Bertram is off to the wars while she is to go back to Roussillon. Helena complies way too easily.
Lafew tries to convince Bertram that Parolles is THE WORST. Parolles comes to tell him that Helena is doing his bidding and leaving for home. Bertram calls Helena a "clog" as she comes to bid him farewell. Bertram pretends he didn't know that he was going to be sent off to the wars and gives her a letter to give to his mother. She tries to extend their goodbye but to no avail, and Bertram leaves, swearing to Parolles that he'll never come home as long as there's fighting to be done.
The Duke of Florence wonders aloud why the F the King has not officially allied himself with him and some Lords from the court make lame excuses.
The Countess, meanwhile, receives a letter from Lavatch about Bertram and Helena's relationship status. The Countess rolls her eyes as Helena arrives with some gentlemen. She reads the letter she got from Bertram which says
When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which
never shall come off, and show me a child begotten
of thy body that I am father to, then call me
husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.'
The Countess is sorely disappointed at her shitty son and she partially blames Parolles. Helena still pines for the bastard and wishes that he never catches a bullet during the war. She even blames herself for scaring him out of the court! We ladies have enough shit to deal with without succumbing to gaslighting. She decides to quit Roussillon.
In Florence, the Duke there orders Bertram to be the general of the calvary and Bertram is more than happy to oblige.
The Countess receives a letter from Helena explaining that she has left to go on a pilgrimage so that Bertram can return to Roussillon. The Countess wishes she had the chance to convince her otherwise. She orders a letter be sent to Bertram shaming him for his behavior and to let him know that his wife has left because of him.
In Florence, a Widow and her daughter, Diana, gossip as they await the arrival of the Duke and his troops. Mariana, their neighbor, mentions how the "filthy officer" Parolles has solicited her and she warns Diana against all those tricky lads outside. Helena, dressed as a pilgrim, comes over and the Widow asks where she is headed. Helena says Saint Jaques le Grand and asks where the pilgrims' hostel is. The Widow says she can lodge with her. Assuming Helena has come from France, she informs her that a handsome French Count of Roussillon is heading their way and asks if she knows of him. Helena pretends to only know him by reputation. They feel bad for the Count's wife. The Widow implies that the Count has tried to get under Diana's skirts already, but that Diana guards her virtue honestly.
Suddenly, Bertram, Parolles and his officers arrive and Diana points out how that Count is hot but too bad he's a douchecanoe. Diana also detests Parolles something awful. The officers pass by and the Widow leads Helena to her lodgings.
At the Florence camp, Bertram listens to some Lords' complaints about Parolles being a total asswipe unworthy of Bertram's favors. They devise a plan to test Parolles' character by blindfolding him and leading him to their tents, but convincing him they are the enemy so they can offer to betray Bertram and see what he does. Parolles enters and they talk about how they lost some war drum and Parolles leaps at a promise to retrieve it even though he is just going to use this as an opportunity to fuck around for a while. Parolles leaves and the Lords tell Bertram they will catch him that night and reveal his true heart. Bertram says he's pursuing some "lass" he met (Diana) and though she is cold, he wants to get her anyway.
Helena reveals to the Widow that she is Count Roussillon's wife. Helena offers her gold to participate in a plot to trick her husband into sleeping with her. She asks that Diana request Bertram's ring from him in exchange for a nighttime bed-pressing, but when he comes to the room, Helena will be in the bed instead. The Widow agrees and Helena is thankful:
Why then to-night
Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:
But let's about it.
Yes. Let's about it. Bitch.
Some French Lords and a gaggle of soldiers wait for Parolles to arrive. They watch him walk around for a bit, talking to himself about how he will lie regarding his mission to find the drum. The Lords capture Parolles and blindfold him, all while speaking complete gibberish (because Parolles knows too many languages to be easily fooled), so Parolles thinks he has been taken prisoner by an unknown enemy. He immediately offers to spill everything about his camp to save his skin.
Meanwhile, Bertram meets up with Diana, and doesn't even know her name, but showers her with promises about his love for her. Diana says:
Ay, so you serve us
Till we serve you; but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves
And mock us with our bareness.
She says Bertram must prove his adoration by giving her his ring, and despite his reticence, just as Helena predicted, he does. She tells him to meet her in her room at midnight to take her virginity.
The Lords gossip about Bertram's life: he's been reproached by his mother, the King is angry, and Helena has reportedly "died" while on pilgrimage! Holy shitballs. Bertram comes and says yeah, he's been busy but whatever. The Lords bring in blindfolded Parolles and interrogate him with an "interpreter" and Parolles proceeds to sing like the cowardly stool pigeon he is. He also slanders some French Lords, along with Bertram. All of this is dome in front of Bertram, who is at last appalled at his buddy's behavior. They unmask him, and Parolles is at first speechless as the Lords and Bertram stare him down, then they leave him and he admits he has been rightly shamed:
Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more;
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft
As captain shall: simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this, for it will come to pass
that every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place and means for every man alive.
Helena, Diana, and the Widow go over their plan to catch Bertram and Helena drops some knowledge:
But, O strange men!
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night: so lust doth play
With what it loathes for that which is away.
Back in Roussillon, Lafew and the Countess believe Helena dead, and mourn her. Lavatch makes some odd comments, then runs off as Lafew says he has received consent from the King to have his daughter marry Bertram (now that he is "widowed"), and that the King is coming to Roussillon soon. Lavatch comes back and announces that Bertram has arrived with a wound on his face.
In Marseilles, Helena, Diana, and the Widow are looking for the King, but a Gentleman tells them that he has gone to Roussillon, so Helena gives him a letter for the King and says she will be on her way.
Parolles arrives at Roussillon, dressed down from his usual overwrought finery, and asks Lavatch to announce him. Lavatch takes him for a beggar and makes jokes about how he stinks to high heaven. Lafew comes and almost gives Parolles some money to go away until he recognizes him and asks him to come into the Count's palace for food, humbling a very grateful Parolles.
Inside, the King and the Countess discuss how sad it is that Helena is dead and how they must now let bygones be bygones so Bertram can marry Lafew's daughter. Bertram comes in and the King asks if Betram knows Lafew's daughter. Bertram says he once loved her but I guess familiarity bred contempt and he admits he feels love for Helena now and the King says:
but love that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends and after weep their dust
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon.
Lafew asks Bertram to give his daughter Maudlin (an unfortunate name, indeed!) a token of his affection and faith, and when Bertram pulls out the ring he got from Helena in Diana's bed, everyone recognizes the ring except him and the King accuses Bertram of stealing it from Helena by force and causing her death. Bertram, of course, is confused and says he got it from a gentlewoman he met in Florence. The King prepares to jail Bertram when Bertram insists that if they can prove the ring is Helena's then they might as well prove he bedded her in Florence. Ha ha just you wait, buddy!
The King has him taken away just as the Gentleman comes in with the letter from Helena. It's actually written by Diana, who says within it that Bertram slept with her because he thought himself a widower. Lafew is horrified and says he will not marry his daughter to Bertram now. They call Bertram back in just as Diana and the Widow enter and announce themselves. Diana explains that Bertram is her husband now because he took her virginity and Bertram calls her a shameless whore. She shows his ring as proof that he promised his faith to her and the Countess confirms that it is the family ring, proof that he wedded her. Diana says she also has a witness: Parolles. Bertram says Parolles is "a most perfidious slave" and cannot be trusted. Also, he says Diana used her womanly wiles on him to get the ring off him. She is offended at his accusations and asks for her ring back--the one that the King now holds.
Much confusion settles in until Parolles comes and Bertram says the ring did in fact come from Diana. The King orders Parolles to tell them the truth. Parolles says yes, Bertram loved Diana but also did not, and he knew about their dealings but cannot say anymore without perjuring himself or whatever. The King is pissed and continues to interrogate Diana about the ring and she equivocates until the King loses his patience and sends her away. She insists she's telling the truth and asks her mother to fetch her "bail" which is a pregnant Helena. Everyone freaks out. Helena brings forth the letter Bertram originally sent to her about how he won't be her husband until she has his ring and is with his child. Bertram, flabbergasted, says he will love her "dearly, ever, ever, dearly" (which is one too many "evers" if you ask anyone). The King tells Diana she can choose any husband she wants (right, because that's worked so well before) and finishes up the play:
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet...
The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
Can you believe this shit? Like Bertram really had some miraculous change of heart at the end just because he was so impressed by Helena's bed trick. We all know that lust, not brains, spur his loins to action. What a piece of work. Perhaps an actor could play Bertram as simply young and ditzy, and still kind of charming (he's a turd, but not an asshole) and this could work better.
But going by the text alone, I cannot for the life of me "get" Helena. I get the King, the Countess, Lafew, and Lavatch. I totally get Parolles, the pompous fool. I even get Bertram, as terrible he is! But Helena, girl, you truly need to learn that you deserve so much better. You're clearly clever, kind, and intelligent, but you're none too wise. Unless Bertram is Daniel Craig, in which case I forgive you entirely.
That's all I've got to say on this one. Next week, another "problem play" with yet another sneaky "bed trick"! I guess this device was en vogue for a hot minute. Because it was soooo believable, I'm sure. It's a bit hilarious anyway, and says a lot about males and their "little brains."
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