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And these breed honour: That is honour's fcorn,
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
to chuse. Hel. That you are well restor’d, my lord, I'm glad : Let the rest
and as oft is dumb,
of honour'd Bones, indeed, what should be said?] This is such pretty Stuff, indeed, as is only worthy of its accurate Editors! The Transposition of an innocent Stop, or two, is a Task above their Diligence : especially, if common Sense is. to be the Result of it. The Regulation, I have given, must Atrike every Reader so at first Glance, that it needs not a Word in Confirmation, (15) My Honour's at the Stake; which to defeat
I must produce my Pow'r.] The poor King of France is again made a Man of Gotham, by our unmerciful Editors: What they make him say, is mere mock-realoning: For he is not to make use of his Authority to defeat, but to defend, his Honour,
We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt :
Ber. Pardon, my gracious Lord ; for I submit
King. Take her by the hand,
Ber. I take her hand.
King. Good fortune, and the favour of the King
Manent Parolles and Lafeu.
Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation
Par. Recantation ? my Lord ? my Master ?
Par. A moft harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody fucceeding. My master? Laf. Are you companion to the Count Roufillon?
Par. To any Count ; to all Counts ; to what is
Laf. To what is Count's man ; Count's master is of another ftile.
Par. You are too old, Sir ; let it satisfie 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 burthen. 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'rt scarce worth.
Par. Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee
Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, left thou haften thy tryal ; 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, I look thro' 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, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not 'bate thee a scruple.
Par. Well, I shall be wiser
Laf. Ev'n as soon as thou can'ít, for thou hast to pull at a smack o'th' contrary. If ever thou beeft 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; fcurvy, old, filthy, scurvy Lord ! well, I muft be patient, there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any conveni. ence, an he were double and double a Lord. I'll have no more pity of his age, than I would have of -I'l beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
Re-enter Lafeu. 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 some reservation of your wrongs. He, my good Lord, whom I serve above, is my master.
Laf. Who? God?
Laf. 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 so? thou wert beft 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 upon thee.
Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my Lord.
Laf. Go to, Sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking å kernel out of a pomegranate ; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you are more fawcy with lords and honourable personages, than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, elfe 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 conceaid a while.
Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Ber. Although before the folemn Priest I've sworn, I will not bed her.
Par. What? what, sweet heart?
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no 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
Ber. It shall be so, I'll send her to my house,
Where noble fellows strike. 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, hush ! 'tis fo.