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

Ber. Although before the folemn Priest I've 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 ng more 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. Ay, that would be known: to th' wars, my
boy, to th’ wars.
He wears his honour in a box, unseen,
That hugs his kicksy-wickly 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.

Ber. It shall be so, I'll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am filed; write to the King
That which I durst not speak. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows ftrike. War is no ftrife
To the dark house, and the detested wife.

Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ?

Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
I'll send her straight away : to-morrow
I'll to the wars, The 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, huh! 'tis so.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Into your guided power: this is the man. [To Bertram. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, she's thy

wife. Ber. My wife, my Liege? I shall beseech your High

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

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, What the 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 sick.

ly bed.
Ber. Bat follows it, my Lord, to bring me down
Muft answer for your raising? I know her well :
She had her breeding at my father's charge :
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 : ftrange 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 the be
All that is virtuous, (lave what thou difik't,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik’ft
Of virtue for the name : but do not fo.
(13) From lowest place when virtuous things pron
The place is dignify'd by th* doer's deed.
Where

great

addition swells, and virt--
It is a dropfied honour ; gooria
Is good without a name
The property by
Not by the title
In these, to

(13) F

un, mious

And

And these breed honour : That is honour's scora,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. Honours beit thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derise
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a llave
Debaucht on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy; (14) and as oft is dumb,
Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed. What should be faid:
If thou can'st like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue and the,
Is her own dow'r ; honour and wealth from me.

Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should it ftrive

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

King. (15) 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! That doft in vile misprifion shackle up My love, and her defert; that canft not dream, We, poizing us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, J

'ne honour

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Enter Helena and Clown.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is the 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'ch' 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 heav'n, whither God fend her quickly ; the other, that she's in earth, from whence God fend her quickly!

Enter Parolles. 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 ftill. O, my knave, how does my old lady?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles and I her mony, 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'rt a knave.

Clo. You should have said, Sir, before a knave, th'art a knave; that's, before me th'art a knave : this had been truth, Sir.

Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found ihee.

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 encrease of laughter,

Par.

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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 dae, time claims, he does acknowledge ;
But puts it off by a compellid restraint:
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd 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 inftant leave o'th'King,
And make this hafte as your own good proceeding :
Strengthen'd with what 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. (16) In every thing I wait upon his will. .
Par. I shall report it so.

(Exit Parolles. Hel. I pray you.-Come, Sirrah. [To Clown.

[Excunt.
Enter Lafeu and Bertram.
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 banting.

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(16) Hel. In every Thing I wait upon his Will.

Par. I shall report it fo.

Hel. I pray you come, Sirrah.] The pointing of Hem len's last short Speech stands thus absurdly, thro' all the Editions. My Regulation restores the true Meaning. Upon Parolles saying, He shall report it fo; Helena is intended to reply, I pray you, do so ; and then, turning to the Clown, She more familiarly addresses him, and bids him come along with her..

Ben.

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