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 7 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 iny 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

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so,

my blood.

6
i, e. I have no more to say to you.

7 The lowest chance of the dice.

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 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 8 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,

83, c. The want of title,

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 9 swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
Is good, without a name; viļeness 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 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.

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,

9 Titles. 'Good is good independent of any worldly distinction, and so is vileness vile.

I must produce my power: Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ;
That dost in vile misprision shackle up
My love, and her desert; that canst not dream,
We, poizing 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 caretess 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 counterpoize; 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,

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 ?

Luf. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.

Par. Recantation ?--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 master ?

Luf. 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.

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 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 art scarce worth.

2i.e. While I sate twice with thee at dinner.