Is good, without a name; vileness is so :
The property by what it is fhould go,

Not by the title. She is young, wife, fair ;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;

And these breed honour: that is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a flave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb,

Where duft, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be faid?

If thou canst like this creature as a maid,

I can create the reft: virtue, and fhe,

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 reftor'd, my lord, I am glad; Let the reft go.

KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat,
I must produce my power: Here, take her hand,
Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
That doft in vile mifprifion fhackle 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,
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,

VOL. II.

U

Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims;
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever,
Into the staggars, and the careless lapfe

Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate,
Loofing upon thee in the name of justice,

Without all terms of pity: Speak; thine answer.
BER. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I fubmit
My fancy to your eyes: When I confider,
What great creation, and what dole of honour,
Flies where you bid it, I find, that fhe, 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, fhe 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; whofe ceremony
Shall feem expedient on the now-born brief,
And be perform'd to-night: the folemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting abfent friends. As thou lov'st her,
Thy love's to me religious; elfe, does err.

[Exeunt KING, BERTRAM, HELENA, LORDS, and
Attendants.

LAF. Do you hear, monfieur? a word with you.

PAR. Your pleasure, fir?

LAF. Your lord and mafter did well to make his recantation.

PAR. Recantation? My lord? my master?

LAF Ay; Is it not a language, I speak?

PAR. A moft harfh one; and not to be understood without bloody fucceeding. My Mafter?

LAF. Are you companion to the count Roufillon?

PAR. To any count; to all counts; to what is man. LAF. To what is count's man; count's mafter is of another style.

PAR. You are too old, fir; let it fatisfy you, you are too old.

LAF. I must tell thee, firrah, 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 wife fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pafs: yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly diffuade me from believing thee a veffel 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. Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,

LAF. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, left thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy cafement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand.

PAR. My lord, you give me moft egregious indignity. LAF. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. PAR. I have not, my lord, deferv'd it.

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

PAR. Well, I fhall be wifer.

LAF. E'en as foon as thou canft, for thou haft to pull

at a fmack o'the contrary. If ever thou be'ft bound in thy fcarf, and beaten, thou fhalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a defire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge; that I may fay, in the default, he is a man I know.

PAR. My lord, you do me most infupportable vexation. LAF. I would it were hell-pains for thy fake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am paft; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit.

PAR. Well, thou haft a fon fhall take this disgrace off me; fcurvy, old, filthy, fcurvy 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, an if I could but meet him again.

Re-enter LA FEU.

LAF. Sirrah, your lord and mafter's married, there's news for you; you have a new miftrefs.

PAR. I most unfeignedly befeech your lordship to make fome reservation of your wrongs: He is my good lord: whom I ferve above, is my mafter.

LAF. Who? God?

PAR. Ay, fir.

LAF. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? doft make hose of thy fleeves? do other fervants fo? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nofe ftands. 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 waft created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.

PAR. This is hard and undeferved measure, my lord.

LAF. Go to, fir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more faucy with lords, and honourable perfonages, than the heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commiffion. You are not worth another word, elfe I'd call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. Enter BERTRAM.

PAR. Good, very good; it is fo 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. Although before the folemn priest I have fworn, I will not bed her.

PAR. What? what, fweet 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 unfeen,

That hugs his kickfy-wickfy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which fhould fuftain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery fteed: To other regions!
France is a ftable; we that dwell in't, jades;
Therefore, to the war!

BER. It fhall be fo; I'll fend her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
That which I durft not speak: His present gift