A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,

His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall. God send him well!
The court's a learning place, and he is one-
Par. What one, i' faith?

Hel. That I wish well. Tis pity

Par. What's pity?

180

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't,

190

Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter Page.

[Exit.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
Par. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee,
I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a
charitable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must

needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

200

Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the
safety but the composition that your valour and

:

fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing,
and I like the wear well.

210

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankful- 220 ness, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so, farewell.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,

[Exit.

Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high; 230
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose
What hath been cannot be: who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease-my project may deceive me,
But
my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me.

[Exit.

Scene II.

Paris. The King's palace.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France with letters and divers Attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.

First Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it

A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

First Lord.

King.

His love and wisdom,
Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.

He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

Sec. Lord.

King.

It well may serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.

What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.

King.

ΙΟ

Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; 20

Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,

30

Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. King. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship' First tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit, which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour: So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awaked them; and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him He used as creatures of another place;

Ber.

And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;

40

Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph

50

As in your royal speech.

King. Would I were with him!
Methinks I hear him now;

He would always say— his plausive words

He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,

To grow there and to bear,- Let me not live,'—
This his good melancholy oft began,

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,

When it was out,- Let me not live,' quoth he,
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff

60

Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgements are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd:

I after him do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,

I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

To give some labourers room.

Sec. Lord.

You are loved, sir;

They that least lend it you shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long is 't, count, 70 Since the physician at your father's died?

He was much famed.

Some six months since, my lord.

Ber.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out
With several applications: nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure.

Ber.

My son's no dearer.

Welcome, count;