Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them. Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. 4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so. Laf. There's one grape yet,-I am sure, thy father drank wine :but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. Hel. [To BERTRAM.] I dare not say, I take you; but I give Me, and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power.-This is the man. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. But never hope to know why I should marry her. King. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed. Must answer for your raising? I know her well: King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st, Is good, without a name; vileness is so : The property by what it is, should go, In these to nature she's immediate heir; And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, And is not like the sire: honours thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive, Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? I can create the rest: virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am glad : Let the rest go. King. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat My love, and her desert; that canst not dream, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt: Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims; Into the staggers, and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate Without all terms of pity. name of justice, Speak; thine answer. Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit My fancy to your eyes: when I consider What great creation, and what dole of honour, King. Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate, A balance more replete. King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king, [Exeunt KING, BERTRAM, HELENA, Lords, and Attendants. Laf. Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, Sir? Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. Par. Recantation !-My lord! my master! Laf. Ay; is it not a language I speak? Par. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master! Laf. Are you companion to the count Rousillon? Par. To any count,-to all counts,—to what is man. Laf. To what is count's man: count's master is of another style. Par. You are too old, Sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou'rt scarce worth. Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee, Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well: thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. Laf. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it. Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple. Par. Well, I shall be wiser. Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say, in the default, he is a man I know. Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit. Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!-Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of-I'll beat him,—an if I could but meet him again! Re-enter LAFeu. Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for you: you have a new mistress. Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good lord: whom I serve above is my master. Laf. Who God? Par. Ay, Sir. Laf. The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee methinks thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. Laf. Go to, Sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller : you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. Par. Good, very good; it is so then :-good, very good; let it be concealed a while. Re-enter BERTRAM. Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! Par. What is the matter, sweet heart? Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have 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 the wars ! Ber. There's letters from my mother: what the import is, I know not yet. Par. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions! Ber. It shall be so I'll send her to my house, I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 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, hush! 'tis so. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-PARIS. Another Room in the Palace. Enter HELENA and Clown. Hel. My mother greets me kindly is she well? : Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i' the world; but yet she is not well. Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? Clo. Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. Hel. What two things? Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! Enter PAROLles. Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. |