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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 fire: 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 duft, 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, 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 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,


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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 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


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 fo.

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 contráct ; 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

Lar. Do you hear, monsieur ? a word with you.
Par. Your pleasure, sir?

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

Par. Recantation ? My lord ? my master ?
Lar Ay; Is it not a language, I speak ?


Par. A most harsh one, and not to be understood
without bloody fucceeding. 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, fir ; let it satisfy 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 wise fellow; thou didît 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

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,

LAF. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, left thou haften 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, 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, 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. E'en as foon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull

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at a smack o’the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge; that I may say, in the default, he is a man I know.

Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable 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 hast a fon 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 of his age, than I would have of—I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

Re-enter Lareu. 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 fome reservation of your wrongs : He is my good lord : whom I serve above, is my master.

LAF. Who? God?
Par. Ay, fir.

Lar. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why doft thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion doft make hose of thy sleeves ? do other servants fo? 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 general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to breathe themselves

thee. Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.


Lar. 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 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. [Exit.

Enter BERTRAM. 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. Although before the folemn priest I have 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 no more merits The tread of a man's foot: to the wars!

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the importis,
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,
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 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 durft not speak : His present gift

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