All's Well That Ends Well

Enter Countess, BERTRAM, with two or three Servants; the Countess sick.

Countess. O my dear son, that you had weight enough within you to weigh with some acceleration your halfpennyworth of human kindness!

Bertram. What is your will, madam? I have always found obedience in myself to be a virtue, yet to be commanded doth sometimes breed distaste.

Countess. O that I were a man! what? think'st thou with that desire to be a man I should affect the office? Why, this is but a woman's office—To keep a house and bear a charge.

Bertram. Pardon me, madam; I have no desire to dispute. Conscience, and general conveniency, do both point to show the course that must be taken.

Countess. I have entrusted you with more than crown or sceptre gives; and thy gentle birth, and thy fortune, and thy parts make thee fit for my trust. Yet, if thou fail'st me, I am resigned.

Bertram. Madam, I will not fail you: though I must confess, your desire doth press somewhat upon my youth; yet for your sake I will labour and be diligent.

Countess. Take then this token; and when you leave me, remember the poor's prayers; and be as careful in your absence as you are generous in your presence.

Bertram. I go. Farewell, and give me leave to leave you; my steps are ready to attend the call of duty.