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 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 dislikest,
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
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 swell's, and virtue nonė,
It is a dropsied honour. (Good alone

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 scórn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
Debosh'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.

120

130

140

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

King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to

choose.

Hel. That you are well restored, my lord, I'm 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 canst not dream,
We, poising us in her defective scale,

150

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 careless lapse

160

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,

King.

Is as 't were born so.

Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise

170

A counterpoise; 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 lovest her,
Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

180

[Exeunt all but Lafeu and Parolles. 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. 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!

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, sir; let it satisfy you, you are
too old.

190

Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which 200 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