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And these breed honour: That is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. Honours beft thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the meer word's a slave
Debaucht on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy; (14) and as oft is dumb,
Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed. What fhould be faid?
If thou can'ft like this creature as a maid,

I can create the rest: virtue and she,

Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will ftrive to do't..

King. Thou wrong'ft thyself, if thou should'st strive: to chufe.

Hel. That you are well reftor'd, my lord, I'm glad : Let the reft go..

King. (15) My honour's at the ftake; which to defend,
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
That doft 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

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Where Duft and damn'd Oblivion is the Tomb.

Of bonour'd Bones, indeed, what should be faid?] This is fuch 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: efpecially, if common Senfe is to be the Result of it. The Regulation, I have given, must ftrike every Reader so at first Glance, that it needs not a Word in Confirmation.

which to defeat

(15) My Honour's at the Stake; 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 fay, is mere mock-reasoning: 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:
Obey our will, which travels 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; 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; I find, that fhe, which late
Was in my noble thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the King; who, fo enobled,
Is, as 'twere, born fo.

King. Take her by the hand,

And tell her, fhe is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize; if not in thy estate,

A balance more repleat.

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 new-born brief,
And be perform'd to night; the folemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting abfent friends. As thou lov'ft her,
Thy love's to me religious; elfe does err..

Manent Parolles and Lafeu.


6 Laf. Do you hear, Monfieur ? a word with you. Par. Your pleasure, Sir?

Laf. Your Lord and Mafter did well to make his recantation,

Par. Recantation ?-my Lord? my Mafter?
Laf. Ay, is it not a language I speak?

without bloody fucceeding. My mafter?

Par. A most harsh one, and not to be underfood

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 mafter is of another ftile.

Par. You are too old, Sir; let it fatisfie 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 wife fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pafs; yet the fcarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly diffuade me from believing thee a veffel 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 fcarce worth.

Par. Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee

Laf. Do not plunge thyfelf too far in anger, left thou haften thy tryal; which if,-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! fo, my good window of lattice, farethee well; thy cafement I need not open, I look thro thee. Give me thy hand.

Par. My Lord, you give me moft egregious indig nity.

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, ev'ry dram of it; and. I will not 'bate thee a scruple.

Par. Well, I fhall be wifer

Laf. Ev'n as foon as thou can'ft, for thou haft to pull at a fmack o'th' contrary. If ever thou beeft 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 say in the default, he is a man I know.

Par. My Lord, you do me moft 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.


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

Re-enter Lafeu.


Laf Sirrah, your Lord and Mafter's married, there's news for you: you have a new mistress.

Par. I moft unfeignedly befeech your Lordship to make fome reservation of your wrongs. He, my good Lord, whom I ferve above, is my master.

Laf. Who? God?

Par. Ay, Sir.

Laf. The devil it is, that's thy mafter. Why doft thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? doft make hofe of thy fleeves? do other fervants fo? thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose 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 meafure, my Lord. Laf. Go to, Sir; 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 commiffion of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth ano-. ther word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you.

Enter Bertram.


Per. Good, very good, it is fo then.-Good, very

good, let it be conceal'd a while.


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Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever!
Par. What is the matter, fweet heart?

Ber. Although before the folemn Priest I've sworn,

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 th' wars.

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the import is, I know not yet.

Par. Ay, that would be known: boy, to th' wars.

to th' wars, my

He wears his honour in a box, unseen,
That hugs his kickfy-wickfy here at home;
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should 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 th' war.

Ber. It fhall be fo, I'll fend her to my houfe,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the King
That which I durft not fpeak. His prefent gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,

Where noble fellows ftrike. War is no ftrife
To the dark house, and the detefted wife.

Par.. Will this capricio hold in thee, art fure?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.'
I'll fend her ftraight away: to-morrow

I'll to the wars, the to her fingle forrow.

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, hufh! 'tis fo.



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