Page 824 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

BERTRAM

But follows it, my lord, to bring me down [110]
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 disdainest in her, the which [115]
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 dislikest − [120]
A poor physician’s daughter − thou dislikest

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, [125]

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, [130]
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, [135]
Debauched on every tomb, on every grave
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb

Where dust and damned oblivion is the tomb
Of honoured bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid, [140]
I can create the rest. Virtue and she

Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.

BERTRAM