The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 335
PAROLES Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee—
LAFEU 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. 216
PAROLES My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
LAFEU Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. PAROLES I have not, my lord, deserved it.
LAFEU Yes, good faith, every dram of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple.
PAROLES Well, I shall be wiser.
LAFEU E‘en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o’th’ contrary. If ever thou beest bound in thy scarf and beaten thou shall 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’.
PAROLES My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
LAFEU 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
PAROLES 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 authority. I’ll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I’ll have no more pity of his age than I would have of—I’ll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
Enter Lafeu
LAFEU Sirrah, your lord and master’s married. There’s news for you: you have a new mistress.
PAROLES I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord; whom I serve above is my master.
LAFEU Who? God?
PAROLES Ay, sir.
LAFEU The devil it is that’s thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o’ this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger I’d beat thee. Methink’st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.
PAROLES This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
LAFEU 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 saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave. I leave you.
Exit
PAROLES Good, very good, it is so then. Good, very good, let it be concealed awhile.
[Enter Bertram]
BERTRAM
Undone and forfeited to cares for ever.
PAROLES What’s the matter, sweetheart?
BERTRAM
Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
I will not bed her.
PAROLES What, what, sweetheart?
BERTRAM
O my Paroles, they have married me.
I’ll to the Tuscan wars and never bed her.
PAROLES
France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
The tread of a man’s foot. To th’ wars!
BERTRAM
There’s letters from my mother. What th’import is
I know not yet.
PAROLES
Ay, that would be known. To th’ wars, my boy, to th’
wars! 275
He wears his honour in a box unseen
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars’s fiery steed. To other regions!
France is a stable, we that dwell in’t jades.
Therefore to th’ war.
BERTRAM
It shall be so. I’ll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled, write to the King
That which I durst not speak. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellows strike. Wars is no strife
To the dark house and the detested wife.
PAROLES
Will this capriccio hold in thee? Art sure?
BERTRAM
Go with me to my chamber and advise me.
I’ll send her straight away. Tomorrow
I’ll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
PAROLES
Why, these balls bound, there’s noise in it. ‘Tis hard:
A young man married is a man that’s marred.
Therefore away, and leave her bravely. Go.
The King has done you wrong, but hush ’tis so.
Exeunt
2.4 Enter Helen reading a letter, and Lavatch the clown
HELEN
My mother greets me kindly. Is she well?
LAVATCH She is not well, but yet she has her health. She’s very merry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given she’s very well and wants nothing i’th’ world. But yet she is not well.
HELEN
If she be very well, what does she ail
That she’s not very well?
LAVATCH Truly, she’s very well indeed, but for two things. HELEN What two things?
LAVATCH One, that she’s not in heaven, whither God send her quickly. The other, that she’s in earth, from whence God send her quickly.
Enter Paroles
PAROLES Bless you, my fortunate lady.
HELEN
I hope, sir, I have your good will to have
Mine own good fortunes. 15
PAROLES You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on have them stitt.—O my knave, how does my old lady?
LAVATCH So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say.
PAROLES Why, I say nothing.
LAVATCH Marry, you are the wiser man, for many a man’s tongue shakes out his master’s undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing.
PAROLES Away, thou’rt a knave.
LAVATCH You should have said, sir, ‘Before a knave, thou’rt a knave‘—that’s ‘Before me, thou‘rt a knave’. This had been truth, sir.
PAROLES Go to, thou art a witty fool. I have found thee.
LAVATCH Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find me?
⌈PAROLES⌉ In myself, knave.
LAVATCH The search, sir, was profitable, and much fool may you find in you, even to the world’s pleasure and the increase of laughter.
PAROLES (to Helen) A good knave, i’faith, and well fed.
Madam, my lord will go away tonight.
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love,
Which as your due time claims, he does acknowledge,
But puts it off to a compelled restraint:
Whose want and whose delay is strewed with sweets,
Which they distil now in the curbed time,
To make the coming hour o’erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.
HELEN
What’s his will else?
PAROLES
That you will take your instant leave o’th’ King,
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthened with what apology you think
May make it probable need.
HELEN
What more commands he?
PAROLES
That having this obtained, you presently
Attend his further pleasure.
HELEN
In everything
I wait upon his will.
PAROLES
I shall report it so.
HELEN I pray you.
⌈Exit Paroles at one
door]
Come, sirrah.
Exeunt Fat another door]
2.5 Enter Lafeu and Bertram
LAFEU But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.
BERTRAM) Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
LAFEU You have it from his own deliverance.
BERTRAM And by other warranted testimony.
LAFEU Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a bunting.
BERTRAM I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.
LAFEU I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour—and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the amity.
Enter Paroles
PAROLES (to Bertram) These things shall be done, sir.
LAFEU (to Bertram) Pray you, sir, who’s his tailor? 15
PAROLES Sir!
LAFEU O, I know him well. Ay, ‘Sir’, he; ‘Sir’ ’s a good workman, a very good tailor.
BERTRAM) (aside to Paroles) Is she gone to the King?
PAROLES She is.
BERTRAM) Will she away tonight?
PAROLES As you’ll have her.
BERTRAM
I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,
Given order for our horses, and tonight,
When I should take possession of the bride,
End ere I do begin.
LAFEU (aside) A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner, but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. (To Paroles) God save you, captain.
BERTRAM) (to Paroles) Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur?
PAROLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord’s displeasure. 35
LAFEU You have made shift to run into’t, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard, and out of it you’ll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.
BERTRAM) It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.
LAFEU And shall do so ever, though I took him at’s prayers. Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.—Farewell, monsieur. I have spoken better of you than you have wit or will to deserve at my hand, but we must do good against evil.
Exit
PAROLES An idle lord, I swear.
BERTRAM I think not so.
PAROLES Why, do you not know him?
BERTRAM
Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Enter Helen, ⌈attended⌉
HELEN
I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the King, and have procured his leave
For present parting; only he desires
Some private speech with you.
BERTRAM)
I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular. Prepared I was not
For such a business, therefore am I found
So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse than ask why I entreat you,
For my respects are better than they seem,
And my appointments have in them a need
Greater than shows itself at the first view
To you that know them not. This to my mother.
He gives her a letter
’Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so
I leave you to your wisdom.
HELEN
Sir, I can nothing say
But that I am your most obedient servant.
BERTRAM
Come, come, no more of that.
HELEN
And ever shall
With true observance seek to eke out that
Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed
To equal my great fortune.
BERTRAM
Let that go.
My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie home.
HELEN
Pray sir, your pardon.
BERTRAM
Well, what would you say?
HELEN
I am not worthy of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I say ’tis mine—and yet it is—
But like a timorous thief most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
BERTRAM
What would you have?
HELEN
Something, and scarce so much: nothing indeed.
I would not tell you what I would, my lord. Faith,
yes:
Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss.
BERTRAM
I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
HELEN
I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.—
Where are my other men?—Monsieur, farewell.
Exeunt Helen ⌈and attendants at one door⌉
BERTRAM
Go thou toward home, where I will never come
Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.—
Away, and for our flight.
PAROLES
Bravely. Coraggio!
Exeunt ⌈at another door⌉
3.1 Flourish of trumpets. Enter the Duke of Florence and the two Lords Dumaine, with a troop of soldiers
DUKE
So that from point to point now have you heard
The fundamental reasons of this war,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth,
And more thirsts after.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace’s part; black and fearful
On the opposer.
DUKE
Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
Would in so just a business shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.
SECOND LORD DUMAINE
Good my lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yield
But like a common and an outward man
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion; therefore dare not
Say what I think of it, since I have found
Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
As often as I guessed.
DUKE
Be it his pleasure.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE
But I am sure the younger of our nation,
That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
Come here for physic.
DUKE
Welcome shall they be,
And all the honours that can fly from us
Shall on them settle. You know your places well;
When better fall, for your avails they fell.
Tomorrow to the field.
Flourish. Exeunt
3.2 Enter the Countess with a letter, and Lavatch COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her.
LAVATCH By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man.
COUNTESS By what observance, I pray you?
LAVATCH Why, he will look upon his boot and sing, mend the ruff and sing, ask questions and sing, pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song.
COUNTESS Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.
She opens the letter and reads
LAVATCH (aside) I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old lings and our Isbels o‘th’ country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o’th’ court. The brains of my Cupid’s
knocked out, and I begin to love as an old man loves money: with no stomach.
COUNTESS What have we here?
LAVATCH E’en that you have there.
Exit
COUNTESS (reads the letter aloud) ’I have sent you a daughter-in-law. She hath recovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her, and sworn to make the “not” eternal. You shall hear I am run away; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world I will hold a long distance. My duty to you.
Your unfortunate son,
Bertram.’
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a King,
To pluck his indignation on thy head
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.
Enter Lavatch
LAVATCH O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady.
COUNTESS What is the matter?
LAVATCH Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
COUNTESS Why should he be killed?
LAVATCH So say I, madam—if he run away, as I hear he does. The danger is in standing to’t; that’s the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For my part, I only heard your son was run away. [Exit]
Enter Helen with a letter, and the two Lords Dumaine
SECOND LORD DUMAINE (to the Countess)
Save you, good madam.
HELEN
Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
FIRST LORD DUMAINE Do not say so.
COUNTESS (to Helen)
Think upon patience.—Pray you, gentlemen,
I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief
That the first face of neither on the start
Can woman me unto’t. Where is my son, I pray you?
FIRST LORD DUMAINE
Madam, he’s gone to serve the Duke of Florence.
We met him thitherward, for thence we came,
And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.
HELEN
Look on his letter, madam: here’s my passport.
⌈She⌉ reads aloud