Would quite
confounddistinction, yet stand off
In differences so
mighty. If she be
All that is
virtuous-save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter-thou dislik'st
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 fore-goers. The mere word's a slave,
Debauch'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. I cannot love her, nor will
strive to do 't.
KING. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst
strive to choose.
HELENA. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I'm glad.
Let the rest go.
KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat,
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud
scornful boy,
worthy" target="_blank" title="a.不值得的;不足道的">
unworthy this good gift,
That dost in vile misprision shackle up
My love and her desert; that canst not dream
We, poising us in her
defective scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know
It is in us to plant thine honour where
We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt;
Obey our will, which travails in thy good;
Believe not thy
disdain, but presently
Do thine own fortunes that
obedient right
Which both thy duty owes and our power claims;
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
Into the staggers and the
careless lapse
Of youth and
ignorance; both my
revenge and hate
Loosing upon thee in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer.
BERTRAM. Pardon, my
gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes. When I consider
What great
creation and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it, I find that she which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base is now
The praised of the King; who, so ennobled,
Is as 'twere born so.
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.
BERTRAM. I take her hand.
KING. Good fortune and the favour of the King
Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony
Shall seem
expedient on the now-born brief,
And be perform'd to-night. The
solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting
absent friends. As thou lov'st her,
Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.
Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES who stay behind,
commenting of this wedding
LAFEU. Do you hear,
monsieur? A word with you.
PAROLLES. Your pleasure, sir?
LAFEU. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.
PAROLLES. Recantation! My Lord! my master!
LAFEU. Ay; is it not a language I speak?
PAROLLES. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody
succeeding. My master!
LAFEU. Are you
companion to the Count Rousillon?
PAROLLES. To any count; to all counts; to what is man.
LAFEU. To what is count's man: count's master is of another style.
PAROLLES. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too
old.
LAFEU. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age
cannot bring thee.
PAROLLES. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.
LAFEU. 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.
PAROLLES. Hadst thou not the
privilege of
antiquity upon thee-
LAFEU. 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.
PAROLLES. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
LAFEU. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art
worthy of it.
PAROLLES. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it.
LAFEU. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate thee
a scruple.
PAROLLES. Well, I shall be wiser.
LAFEU. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack
o' th'
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.'
PAROLLES. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
LAFEU. 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
PAROLLES. 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, and if I could but meet him again.
Re-enter LAFEU
LAFEU. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for
you; you have a new mistress.
PAROLLES. 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.
LAFEU. Who? God?
PAROLLES. Ay, sir.
LAFEU. 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. Methink'st thou art a general offence, and every man should
beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe
themselves upon thee.
PAROLLES. This is hard and undeserved
measure, my lord.
LAFEU. 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
commission of your birth and
virtue gives you heraldry. You are
not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you.
Exit
Enter BERTRAM
PAROLLES. Good, very, good, it is so then. Good, very good; let it
be conceal'd awhile.
BERTRAM. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
PAROLLES. What's the matter, sweetheart?
BERTRAM. Although before the
solemnpriest I have sworn,
I will not bed her.
PAROLLES. What, what, sweetheart?
BERTRAM. O my Parolles, they have married me!
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
PAROLLES. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
The tread of a man's foot. To th' wars!
BERTRAM. There's letters from my mother; what th'
import is I know
not yet.
PAROLLES. Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th'
wars!
He wears his honour in a box unseen
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending his manly
marrow in her arms,
Which should
sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions!
France is a
stable; we that dwell in't jades;
Therefore, to th' war!
BERTRAM. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And
wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durst not speak. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife
To the dark house and the detested wife.
PAROLLES. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure?
BERTRAM. Go with me to my
chamber and
advise me.
I'll send her straight away. To-morrow
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
PAROLLES. 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
ACT2|SC4
ACT II. SCENE 4.
Paris. The KING'S palace
Enter HELENA and CLOWN
HELENA. My mother greets me kindly; is she well?
CLOWN. 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' th' world; but yet she is not well.
HELENA. If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not very
well?
CLOWN. Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things.
HELENA. What two things?
CLOWN. 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
PAROLLES. Bless you, my
fortunate lady!
HELENA. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good
fortunes.
PAROLLES. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on,
have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady?
CLOWN. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she
did as you say.
PAROLLES. Why, I say nothing.
CLOWN. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes
out his master's undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know