Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again.

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
1 Lord. And grant it.
Hel.

my suit?

Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-acet 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 my 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 my blood.

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

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.

* i. e. I have no more to say to you.
+ The lowest chance of the dice.

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

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 knew 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 dislik'st,
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 swell f, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
Is good, without a name; vileness is sot:

The property by what it is should go,

i. e. The want of title.

+ Titles.

‡ Good is good independent of any worldly diso tinction, and so is vileness vile.

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 scoru,
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 damu'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 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 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 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?

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?

Pur. 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.

Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee.

Pur. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.
Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries*, to be

i.e. While I sat twice with thee at dinner.

Act II. 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.

Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,

Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten 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, deserved 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 soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull 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 sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past; as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit.

Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord!Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of

• At a need.