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brooch and the tooth-pick, which we wear not now : your date is better in your pye and your porridge, than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears; it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear: it was former ly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it?
Hel. Not my virginity yet.
There fhall your Mafter have a thoufand loves,
Now fhall he
. The Court's a learning place
Par. What one, i'faith?
Het. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Page. Monfieur Parolles,
My Lord calls for you.
Par. Little Helen, farewel; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at Court.
Hel. Monfieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable Star.
Par. Under Mars, I.
Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Hel. The wars have kept you so under, that muft needs be born under Mars.
Par. When he was predominant.
Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes fafety: but the compofition, that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.
Par. I am fo full of bufineffes, as I cannot anfwer thee acutely I will return perfect Courtier; in the which, my inftruction fhall ferve to naturalize thee, fo thou wilt be capable of Courtiers counfel, and understand what advice fhall thruft upon thee; elfe thou dieft in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou haft leifure, fay thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he ufes thee: To farewel. [Exit.
Hel. Our remedies oft in our felves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heav'n. The fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our flow defigns, when we our felves are dull. What power is it, which mounts my love fo high, That makes me fee, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightieft space in Fortune Nature brings To join like likes, and kifs, like native things. Impoffible be strange attempts, to thofe That weigh their pain in fense; and do fuppofe, What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove To fhew her merit, that did mifs her love? The King's disease my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me.
SCENE changes to the Court of France.
Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers attendants.
HE Florentines and Senoys are by t' ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.
I Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.
King. Nay, 'tis moft credible; we here receive it, A certainty vouch'd from our Coufin Auftria; With caution, that the Florentine will move us For fpeedy aid; wherein our dearest Friend Prejudicates the bufinefs, and would feem To have us make denial.
1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd fo to your Majefty, may plead For ample credence.
King. He hath arm'd our answer;
2 Lord. It may well ferye A nursery to our Gentry, who are fick For Breathing and Exploit.
King. What's he comes here?
Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles.
1 Lord. It is the Count Roufillon, my good Lord, Young Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'ft thy Father's face. Frank Nature, rather curious than in hafte, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy Father's moral parts May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's. King. I would, I had that corporal foundness now, As when thy Father and my self in friendship
First try'd our foldiership: he did look far
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks;
In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
King. Would, I were with him! he would always fay,
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plaufive words
(4] So like a Courtier, no Contempt or Bitterness
Were in his Pride or Sharpness; if they were,
This Paffage feems fo very incorrectly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is loft in the Carelessness. As the Text and Stops are reform'd, these are most beautiful Lines, and the Senfe this. "He had no Contempt or "Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like Pride or Sharpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bitterness are the Exceffes,) his "Equal had awaked them, not his Inferior; to whom he fcorn'd to difcover any thing that bore the Shadow of Pride or Sharpness.
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them
I, after him, do after him with too,
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir;
They, that least lend it you, thall lack you first.
Ber. Some fix months, fince, my Lord.
Lend me an arm;
Ber. Thank your Majefty.
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon.
Enter Countess, Steward and Clown.
Count. I Will now hear; what say you of this gentle
Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my paft endeavours; (5) for then we wound our modefty, and make
(5) For then we wound our Modefty, and make foul the Clearness of sur Defervings, when of Our felves we publish them.] This Sentiment our Author has again inculcated in his Troilus and Creffida.