Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,— 856
Without the which I am not to be won,—
You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to day,
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be 860
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Ber. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible: 864
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools. 868
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, 872
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you and that fault withal;
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault, 876
Right joyful of your reformation.
Ber. A twelvemonth! well, befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
Prin. [To the King.] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. 880
King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way.
Ber. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy
853 estates: ranks
865 agony: i.e. of death
872 dear: intense
874 withal: also
881 bring: attend
