Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, fweet heart?

Ber. Although before the folemn Priest I've sworn, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what, sweet heart?

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me: I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.

Par. France is a dog hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot: to th' wars.

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is, I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: to th' wars, my boy, to th' wars.

He wears his honour in a box, unseen,

That hugs his kicksy-wickfy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should fuftain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery fteed: to other regions
France is a ftable, we that dwell in't jades,
Therefore to th' war.

Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durft not speak. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,

Where noble fellows ftrike. War is no ftrife
To the dark houfe, and the detefted wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art fure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll fend her ftraight away: to-morrow

I'll to the wars, the to her fingle forrow.

Par. Why, these balls bound, there's noise in it.
'Tis hard;

A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd:
Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go,
The King has done you wrong: but, huh! 'tis fo.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Into your guided power: this is the man. [To Bertram. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, fhe's thy wife.

Ber. My wife, my Liege? I fhall befeech your High-
ness,

In fuch a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What the hath done for me?

Ber. Yes, my good Lord,

But never hope to know why I fhould marry her.
King. Thou know'ft, she has rais'd me from my fick-
ly bed.

Ber. But follows it, my Lord, to bring me down
Muft anfwer for your raifing? I know her well:
She had her breeding at my father's charge:
A poor phyfician's daughter my wife!

Rather corrupt me ever!

Difdain

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'ft in her, the which

I can build up: ftrange is it, that our bloods,

Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound diftinction, yet stand off
In differences, fo mighty. If the be
All that is virtuous, (fave what thou diflik'ft,
A poor phyfician's daughter,) thou diflik'ft
Of virtue for the name: but do not fo.
(13) From lowest place when virtuous things pro
The place is dignify'd by th' doer's deed.
Where great addition fwells, and vir*--
It is a dropfied honour; good ~*

Is good without a name

The property by v

Not by the title

In these, to (13) F

n,

ious

And

And these breed honour: That is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. Honours beft thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a flave
Debaucht on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy; (14) and as oft is dumb,
Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed. What should be faid
If thou can'st like this creature as a maid,
I can create the reft: virtue and fhe,

Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will ftrive to do't.

King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st strive to chufe.

Hel. That you are well reflor'd, my lord, I'm glad : Let the reft go.

King. (15) My honour's at the stake; which to defend,
I muft produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
That dost in vile mifprifion fhackle up

My love, and her defert; that canft not dream,
We, poizing us in her defective scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,

▾ pla

e honour

Enter Helena and Clown.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is fhe well?

Clo. She is not well, but yet fhe has her health; fhe's very merry, but yet fhe is not well: but, thanks be given, fhe's very well, and wants nothing i'th' world; but yet fhe is not well.

Hel. If the be very well, what does fhe ail, that she's not very well?

Clo. Truly, fhe's very well, indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that'fhe's not in heav'n, whither God fend her quickly; the other, that she's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

Enter Parolles.

Par. Blefs you, my fortunate lady !

Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortune.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them ftill. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles and I her mony, I would, fhe did, as you fay.

Par. Why, I fay nothing.

Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many a man's tongue shakes out his mafter's undoing: to fay nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing.

Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.

Clo. You fhould have said, Sir, before a knave, th'art a knave; that's, before me th'art a knave: this had been truth, Sir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee. Clo. Did you find me in yourfelf, Sir? or were you taught to find me? the fearch, Sir, was profitable, and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure, and the encrease of laughter.

Par.

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.
Madam, my Lord will go away to night,
A very serious bufinefs calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,

Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge;
But puts it off by a compell'd restraint:

Whose want, and whose delay, is ftrew'd with sweets
Which they diftil now in the curbed time,

To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel. What's his will elfe?

Par. That you will take your inftant leave o'th' King, And make this hafte as your own good proceeding; Strengthen'd with what apology, you think, May make it probable need.

Hel. What more commands he?

Par. That having this obtain'd, you presently

Attend his further pleasure.

Hel. (16) In every thing I wait upon his will.

Par. I fhall report it fo.

Hel. I pray you.-Come, Sirrah.

Enter Lafeu and Bertram.

(Exit Parolles. [To Clown. [Exeunt.

Laf. But, I hope, your Lordship thinks not him foldier.

Ber. Yes, my Lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.

Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting.

(16) Hel. In every Thing I wait upon his Will.

Par. I fhall report it so.

Hel. I pray you come, Sirrah.] The Pointing of He len's laft fhort Speech ftands thus abfurdly, thro' all the Editions. My Regulation restores the true Meaning, Upon Parolles saying, He shall report it so; Helena is intended to reply, I pray you, do fo; and then, turning to the Clown, She more familiarly addreffes him, and bids him come along with her..

Ben