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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


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