Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
Their fiery coacher his diurnal ring,
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moist Hesperus hath quenched her sleepy lamp,
Or four-and-twenty times the pilot’s glass
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass,
What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly,
Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
KING
Upon thy certainty and confidence
What dar’st thou venture?
HELEN
Tax of impudence,
A strumpet’s boldness, a divulged shame;
Traduced by odious ballads, my maiden’s name
Seared otherwise, nay—worse of worst—extended
With vilest torture, let my life be ended.
KING
Methinks in thee some blessèd spirit doth speak,
His powerful sound within an organ weak;
And what impossibility would slay
In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life in thee hath estimate:
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all
That happiness and prime can happy call.
Thou this to hazard needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,
That ministers thine own death if I die.
HELEN
If I break time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die,
And well deserved. Not helping, death’s my fee.
But if I help, what do you promise me?
KING
Make thy demand.
HELEN
But will you make it even?
KING
Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.
HELEN
Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command.
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royal blood of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state;
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.
KING
Here is my hand. The premises observed,
Thy will by my performance shall be served.
So make the choice of thy own time, for I,
Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely.
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know could not be more to trust:
From whence thou cam’st, how tended on—but rest
Unquestioned welcome, and undoubted blessed.—
Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
Flourish. Exeunt the King, ⌈carried⌉, and Helen
2.2 Enter the Countess and Lavatch the clown
COUNTESS Come on, sir. I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.
LAVATCH I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court.
COUNTESS ‘To the court’? Why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? ‘But to the court’!
LAVATCH Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap, and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court. But for me, I have an answer will serve all men.
COUNTESS Marry, that’s a bountiful answer that fits all questions.
LAVATCH It is like a barber’s chair that fits all buttocks: the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.
COUNTESS Will your answer serve fit to all questions?
LAVATCH As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May Day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun’s lip to the friar’s mouth, nay as the pudding to his skin.
COUNTESS Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
LAVATCH From beyond your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
COUNTESS It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands.
LAVATCH But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to’t. Ask me if I am a courtier. It shall do you no harm to learn.
COUNTESS To be young again, if we could! I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?
LAVATCH O Lord, sir!—There’s a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them.
COUNTESS Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you.
LAVATCH O Lord, sir!—Thick, thick, spare not me.
COUNTESS I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
LAVATCH O Lord, sir!—Nay, put me to’t, I warrant you.
COUNTESS You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
LAVATCH O Lord, sir!—Spare not me.
COUNTESS Do you cry ‘O Lord, sir!’ at your whipping, and ‘spare not me’? Indeed, your ‘O Lord, sir!’ is very sequent to your whipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to’t.
LAVATCH I ne‘er had worse luck in my life in my ‘O Lord, sir!’ I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.
COUNTESS I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.
LAVATCH O Lord, sir!—Why, there’t serves well again. COUNTESS
An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this,
She gives him a letter
And urge her to a present answer back.
Commend me to my kinsmen and my son.
This is not much.
LAVATCH Not much commendation to them?
COUNTESS Not much employment for you. You understand me.
LAVATCH Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs.
COUNTESS Haste you again.
Exeunt severally
2.3 Enter Bertram, Lafeu ⌈with a ballad], and Paroles
LAFEU They say miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
PAROLES Why, ’tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times.
BERTRAM And so ’tis.
LAFEU To be relinquished of the artists—
PAROLES So I say—both of Galen and Paracelsus.
LAFEU Of all the learned and authentic Fellows—
PAROLES Right, so I say.
LAFEU That gave him out incurable—
PAROLES Why, there ’tis, so say I too.
LAFEU Not to be helped.
PAROLES Right, as ’twere a man assured of a—
LAFEU Uncertain life and sure death.
PAROLES Just, you say well, so would I have said.
LAFEU I may truly say it is a novelty to the world.
PAROLES It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in [pointing to the ballad] what-do-ye-call there.
LAFEU ⌈reads⌉ ‘A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.’
PAROLES That’s it, I would have said the very same.
LAFEU Why, your dolphin is not lustier. Fore me, I speak in respect—
PAROLES Nay, ‘tis strange, ’tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it, and he’s of a most facinorous spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the—
LAFEU V
ery hand of heaven.
PAROLES Ay, so I say.
LAFEU In a most weak—
PAROLES And debile minister great power, great transcendence, which should indeed give us a further use to be made than alone the recov’ry of the king, as to be—
LAFEU Generally thankful.
Enter the King, Helen, and attendants
PAROLES I would have said it, you say well. Here comes the King.
LAFEU Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I’ll like a maid the better whilst I have a tooth in my head.
⌈The King and Helen dance⌉
Why, he’s able to lead her a coranto.
PAROLES Mort du vinaigre, is not this Helen?
LAFEU Fore God, I think so.
KING
Go call before me all the lords in court.
Exit one or more
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient’s side,⌈The King and Helen sit]
And with this healthful hand whose banished sense
Thou hast repealed, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promised gift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter four Lords
Fair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcel
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O’er whom both sovereign power and father’s voice
I have to use. Thy frank election make.
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.
HELEN
To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
Fall when love please. Marry, to each but one.
LAFEU (aside)
I’d give bay Curtal and his furniture
My mouth no more were broken than these boys’,
And writ as little beard.
KING (to Helen) Peruse them well.
Not one of these but had a noble father.
HELEN Gentlemen,
Heaven hath through me restored the King to health.
⌈ALL BUT HELEN]
We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
HELEN
I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest
That I protest I simply am a maid.—
Please it your majesty, I have done already.
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me:
‘We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,
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.
HELEN (rising)
Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,
And to imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.
⌈She addresses her to a Lord]
Sir, will you hear my suit?
FIRST LORD
And grant it.
HELEN Thanks, sir. All the rest is mute.
LAFEU (aside) I had rather be in this choice than throw ambs-ace for my life.
HELEN (to another Lord)
The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,
Before I speak, too threat’ningly replies.
Love make your fortunes twenty times above
Her that so wishes, and her humble love.
SECOND LORD
No better, if you please.
HELEN
My wish receive,
Which great Love grant. And so I take my leave.
LAFEU (aside) Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I’d have them whipped, or I would send them to th’ Turk to make eunuchs of.
HELEN (to another Lord)
Be not afraid 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.
LAFEU (aside) These boys are boys of ice, they’ll none have her. Sure they are bastards to the English, the French ne‘er got ’em.
HELEN (to another Lord)
You are too young, too happy, and too good
To make yourself a son out of my blood.
FOURTH LORD Fair one, I think not so.
LAFEU (aside) There’s one grape yet. I am sure thy father drunk wine, but if thou beest not an ass I am a youth of fourteen. I have known thee already.
HELEN (to Bertram)
I dare not say I take you, 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.
BERTRAM
My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness,
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?
BERTRAM
Yes, my good lord,
But never hope to know why I should marry her.
KING
Thou know’st she has raised me from my sickly bed.
BERTRAM
But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
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, poured all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stands off
In differences so mighty. If she be
All that is virtuous, save what thou distik’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 th’ doer’s deed.
Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none,
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 scorn
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,
Debauched on every tomb, on every grave
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb
Where dust and dammed oblivion is the tomb
Of honoured 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.
BERTRAM
I cannot love her, nor will strive to do’t.
KING
Thou wrong’st thyself. If thou shouldst strive to choose—
HELEN
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,
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 bo
th 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.
BERTRAM) (kneeling)
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 counterpoise, if not to thy estate
A balance more replete.
BERTRAM (rising)
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 performed tonight. 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.
⌈Flourish.⌉ Exeunt all but Paroles and Lafeu, who stay behind, commenting on this wedding
LAFEU Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. PAROLES Your pleasure, sir.
LAFEU Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.
PAROLES Recantation? My lord? My master?
LAFEU Ay. Is it not a language I speak?
PAROLES A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master?
LAFEU Are you companion to the Count Roussillon?
PAROLES To any count, to all counts, to what is man.
LAFEU To what is count’s man; count’s master is of another style.
PAROLES You are too old, sir. Let it satisfy you, you are too old.
LAFEU I must tell thee, sirrah, I write ‘Man’, to which title age cannot bring thee.
PAROLES What I dare too well do I dare not do.
LAFEU 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 scarves 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’rt scarce worth.
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 334