Laf.

They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and causeless. Hence it is, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconsing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.

Par.

Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our later times.

Ber.

And so 'tis.

Laf.

To be relinquish'd 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.

Par.

Here comes the king.

Laf.

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

Par.

Mort du Vinaigre! is not this Helen?

Laf.

'Fore Heav'n, I think so.

King.
Sir, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banisht sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promis'd gift;
Which but attends thy naming.
Fair maid, send forth thine eye; this youthful parcel

Of noble batchelors, stand at my bestowing,
O'er whom both sov'reign power and father's voice
I have to use; thy frank election make;
Thou hast power to chuse, and they none to forsake.

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. [She addresses herself to a Lord.
I dare not say, I take you; but I offer
Myself and service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guided power: this is my choice. [To Ber.

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 hath 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 liege, to bring me down
Must answer for your raising? I know her well:
She had her breeding at my father's charge
A poor physicians' daughter, my wife!—Disdain
Rather corrupt me ever!

King.
'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. 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 dignify'd by the possessor.
Where great addition swells, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour.* ^note

She is young, wise, and fair;
And these breed honour: the mere word's a slave,
Debaucht on every grave, on every tomb;
A lying trophy.
If thou can'st like this maid,
I can create the rest; virtue and she
Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me.

Ber.
I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.

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

King.
My honour's at the stake; which to defend,
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud, scornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
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.
Speak thine answer.

Ber.
I take her hand.

King.
Good fortune, and the favour of the king
Smile upon this contract; the ceremony
Shall be perform'd to-night. As thou lov'st her,
Thy love's to me religious; else does err.† ^note [Exeunt. Manent Parolles and Lafeu.

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.

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 matter?

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 matter is of another stile.

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.

Had'st 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, I look through thee. Give me thine 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, deserv'd it.

Laf.

Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not 'bate thee a scruple.

Par.

Well, I shall be wiser—

Laf.

Ev'n as soon as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull at a smack o'th' contrary.

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.

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

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.* ^note

Laf.

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 undeserv'd 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 commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you.

Par.

Good, very good; it is so then.—Good, very good; let it be conceal'd a while.

Ber.
Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!

Par.

What is the matter, 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 no where 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.
To th' wars, my boy, to th' wars.
He wears his honour in a box, unseen,
That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home,
Wasting his manly vigour 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.

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. War is no strife,
To the dark house, and the detested wife.* ^note

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.† ^note Enter Helena and Clown.

Hel.
My mother greets me kindly. Is she well?

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

Hel.
What two things?

Clo.

One, that she's not in Heav'n, whither I pray for her quick departure; the other, that she's on earth, from whence Heav'n send her quick departure.

Par.

Bless 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 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.

Go to, thou art a fool; I have found thee.

Clo.

Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; 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 ferious business 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.* ^note

Hel.
What's his will else?

Par.
That you will take your instant leave o'th' 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. [Exit Parolles.

Hel.
I pray you do—Come with me, sirrah. [To Clown.

Clo.
No, madam, not with you.

Hel.
How!

Clo.
After you. I know my distance. [Exeunt.

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