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I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry
Till honor be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with. By heaven, I’ll steal away! (2.1.35–38)
Bertram says these words to Parolles and the Lords Dumaine as they head off to join the Duke of Florence’s army. The King of France has allowed his courtiers to participate in the Italian war if they want, but he has apparently forbidden his new ward from joining them. Bertram must therefore remain at court—a fate that exacerbates the indignity he already faces at being prevented from fully inheriting his father’s wealth. Despite being a noble, Bertram suffers from a case of arrested development and constrained masculinity. Instead of going to war and earning the honor that would ensure his manhood, he is made to stay behind and act as “the forehorse to a smock”—that is, he must be subservient like a woman.
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! (2.3.123–27)
Bertram addresses these lines to the King of France. The King has just allowed Helen to choose whichever courtier she wishes to marry, in exchange for her miraculous cure of his deadly ailment. Helen, of course, has chosen Bertram, and he isn’t happy about it. His first complaint concerns the injustice of his future having to be tied to the King’s survival. In other words, he thinks it’s unfair the King would make such a ridiculous deal with Helen. His second complaint concerns Helen herself. Bertram has grown up knowing Helen, and he has spent his whole life accustomed to thinking of her as his social inferior. He therefore takes offense that he should be forced to marry “a poor physician’s daughter.” His contempt for this idea is plainly evident, but arguably his frustration is less with Helen herself and more with how the arrangement has left him feeling passive and emasculated.
You are deceived, my lord. She never saw it.
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapped in a paper which contained the name
Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought
I stood ungaged, but when I had subscribed
To mine own fortune and informed her fully
I could not answer in that course of honor
As she had made the overture, she ceased
In heavy satisfaction and would never
Receive the ring again. (5.3.108–117)
In the play’s final scene, Bertram once again finds himself before the King of France, and once again the conversation doesn’t go well. These lines come after the King has inquired about the ring Bertram is wearing, which he recognizes as the ring he once gave to Helen. Not knowing the true history of this ring, Bertram lies to the King’s face, saying that some woman in Florence threw it to him from her window. He makes it seem that this woman, whom we know to be the chaste Diana, essentially threw herself at him, while he valiantly refused in deference to his wife’s honor. The despicable nature of his lies to the King strongly recalls the cowardice Parolles displayed when he was being interrogated in act 4, thereby drawing an uncomfortable parallel between the two men.
