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HELENA. [To fourth 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.

LAFEW. There’s one grape yet. I am sure thy father drank wine. But if thou beest not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already.

HELENA. [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 rais’d 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!

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