Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. taught: I know my business is but to the court. Count. To the court! why, what place make you SCENE III.-Paris. A room in the King's Paspecial, when you put off that with such contempt? lace. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. But to the court! Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any our philosophical persons, to make modern and manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were submit ourselves to an unknown fear.' not for the court; but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men.

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.

Count. Will your answer serve to fit all questions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata| punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder,
that hath shot out in our latter times.
Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,
Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-
Par. Right, so I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,-
Par. Why, there 'tis; so say I too.
Laf. Not to be helped,-

Par. Right: as 'twere, a man assured of an-
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.
Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said.
Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.
Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in show-
ing, you shall read it in,- -What do you call
there?-

Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.

I

Par. That's it I would have said: the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me speak in respect

Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most learned should speak truth of it: "here it is, and all facinorous' spirit, that will not acknowledge it to that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

be the

Laf. Very hand of heaven.

Par. Ay, so I say.

Laf. In a most weak

Par. And debile minister, great power, great

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clo. O Lord, sir,-There's a simple putting off;-transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a more, more, a hundred of them. further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.
Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
Clo. O Lord, sir,-Spare not me.

Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir, at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed, your Ő Lord, sir, is very sequent to your whipping; you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but hound to't.

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter King, Helena, and attendants. Par. I would have said it; you say well: Here comes the king.

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head. Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.

Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.—
[Exit an attendant.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my-Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; O Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not

serve ever.

And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promis'd gift,
Which but attends thy naming.

Laf. I'd give bay Curtal,' and his furniture,
My mouth no more were broken than these boys',
And writ as little beard.

King.

Peruse them well: Not one of those, but had a noble father. Hel. Gentlemen,

Heaven hath, through me, restor'd the king to
health.

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest,
That, I protest, I simply am a maid :-
Please it your majesty, I have done already :
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
We blush, that thou should'st choose; but, be
refus'd,

Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever ;
We'll ne'er come there again.

King.
Make choice; and, see,
Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly;
And to Imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit?
1 Lord. And grant it.

Hel.
Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.
Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw
ames-ace for my life.

Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,
Before I speak, too threateningly replies:
Love make your fortunes twenty times above
Her that so wishes, and her humble love!
2 Lord. No better, if you please.
Hel.
My wish receive,
Which great love grant! and so I take my leave.
Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were sons
of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send
them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lord.] that I your hand
should take;

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

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. I dare not say I take you; [To Bertram.]
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.

Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your
highness,

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

King.

Know'st thou not, Bertram,

What she has done for me?
Ber.

Yes, my good lord;
But never hope to know why I should marry her.
King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from
my sickly bed.

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down, Must answer for your raising? I knew her well; She had her breeding at my father's charge:

(1) A docked horse.

(2) i. e. I have no more to say to you. (3) The lowest chance of the dice.

A

poor physician's daughter my wife !-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!

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

I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, 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, 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 best 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 damned 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.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st
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,
I must produce my power: Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
That does 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.

Ber. 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.

Ber.
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,

(4) i. e. The want of title. (5) Titles.
(6) Good is good independent of any worldly
distinction, and so is vileness vile.

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 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.

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 gene

Par. Recantation ?-My lord? my master?
Laf. Ay; Is it not a language, I speak?
Par. A most harsh one; and not to be under-ral
stood 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.

offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breath3 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 pomegrante; 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.

Enter Bertram.

[Exil.

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 dis- very good; let it be concealed a while. suade 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 art scarce worth. Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,

Par. Good, very good; it is so then.-Good,

Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, mercy 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.

I

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

Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have
sworn,

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!

He wears his honour in a box unseen,

Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home; will not bate thee a scruple.

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 the war!

Ber. 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 these Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike: War is no strife
To the dark house, and the detested wife.

5

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure? Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. [Exit.'ll send her straight away: To-morrow Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis-I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. grace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!- Par. Why, these balls bound: there's noise in it. Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of

-"Tis hard;

authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd: him with any convenience, an he were double and Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his The king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis so.

than I would have of-I'll beat him, an if I could age, but meet him again.

Re-enter Lafeu.

Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married,

(1) i. e. While I sat twice with thee at dinner (2) At a need.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same. Another room in the same. Enter Helena and Clown. Hel. My mother greets me kindly: Is she well? Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her health; (3) Exercise. (4) A cant term for a wife. 75) The house made gloomy by discontent.

Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady!

Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes.

Par. You had my prayers to lead them on: and to keep them on, have them still.-O, my knave! How does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would she did as you say.

Par. Why, I say nothing.

Clo. 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 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 art a knave.

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou art a knave; that is, before me thou art a knave: this had been truth, sir.

Par. Goto, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.
Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were
you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profit-
able; and much fool may you find in you, even to
the world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter.
Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed.-
Madam, my lord will go away to-night;
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,
Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknow-
ledge;

But puts it off by a compell'd restraint;
Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with

sweets,

Which they distil now in the curbed time,
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

Hel.

What's his will else? Par. That you will take your instant leave o'

the king,

And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthen'd with that 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. In every thing I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.
Hel.

SCENE V.-Another room in the same.
Lafeu and Bertram.

When I should take possession of the bride,
Given order for our horses; and to-night,
And, ere I do begin,-

ter end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds, Laf. A good traveller is something at the latand uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.God save you, captain.

Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?

Par. I know not how I have deserved to rur into my lord's displeasure.

and spurs, and all, like him that leap'd into the Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at this of me, There can be no kernel in this light his prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe nut; the soul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.-Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you, than you have or will deserve at my hand; but we must do [Exit. good against evil.

Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Ber. I think so.

Par. Why, do you not know him?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well; and common

speech

Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.

Enter Helena.

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave
For present parting; only, he desires
Some private speech with you.

Ber.

I pray you.-Come, sirrah.
I shall obey his will.
[Exeunt. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Enter Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular: prepar'd I was not
For such a business; therefore am I found
So much unsettled: This drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you:
For my respects are better than they seem;
And my appointments have in them a need,

Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.

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."

(1) A specious appearance of necessity.
(2) The bunting nearly resembles the sky-lark;

but has little or no song, which gives estimation to
the sky-lark.
(3) Wonder.

Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother:
[Giving a letter.
"Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so
I leave you to your wisdom.
Hel.
Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Hel.
And ever shall
With true observance seek to eke out that,
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.
Ber.

Let that go:
My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home.
Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon.

Ber.

Well, what would you say?
Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe;'
Nor dare I say, 'tis mine; and yet it is;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
Ber.
What would you have?
Hel. Something; and scarce so much:-nothing,
indeed.-

I would not tell you what I would: my lord-'faith,

yes;

Strangers, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
Hel. I shall not break your bidding, good my
lord.

And all the honours, that can fly from us,
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell:
To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE II.-Rousillon. A room in the Countess's
Palace. Enter Countess and Clown.
Count. It hath happened all as I would have
had it, save, that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.

Count. By what observance, I pray you?

5

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing mend the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; pick his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for

Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ?-I
Farewell.

[Erit.

Count. What have we here? Clo. E'en that you have there. Count. [Reads.] I have sent you a daughter-inlaw: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to [Exit Helena. make the not eternal. You shall hear, I am run Go thou toward home; where I will never come, away; know it, before the report come. If there Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum:-be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long Away, and for our flight. distance. My duty to you. Par.

Bravely, coragio! [Exe.

Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin
France

Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.
2 Lord.

Good my lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yield,
But like a common and an outward man,"
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion: therefore dare not
Say what I think of it; since I have found
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.
Duke.

Be it his pleasure.

Your unfortunate son,
BERTRAM.
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a king;
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.

Re-enter Clown.

Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. Count. What is the matter?

Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.

Count. Why should he be kill'd?

Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come, will tell you more: for my part, I only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clown. Enter Helena and two Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Save you, good madam.

Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 2 Gent. Do not say so.

Count. Think upon patience.-'Pray you, gen-
tlemen,-

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our na- Can woman me unto't :-Where is my son, I pray

you?

2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of

Florence: