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Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore Hel. That I wish well. 'Tis pity I die a virgin.

Par. What 's pity ? Par. There's little can be said in 't; 't is Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't, against the rule of nature. To speak on the part which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, most infallible disobedience. He that hangs him- Might with effects of them follow our friends, self is a virgin : virginity murders itself, and should And shew what we alone must think; which be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, never as a desperate offendress against nature. Virgin- Returns us thanks, ity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding

Enter a Page. his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you can

[Exit Page. not choose but lose by't: out with 't: within ten Par. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly in- thee, I will think of thee at court. crease, and the principal itself not much the worse : Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a away with 't.

charitable star. Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her Par. Under Mars, I. own liking ?

Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par. Let me see : — marry, ill, to like him that Par. Why under Mars ? pe'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth : must needs be born under Mars. off with 't, while 't is vendible : answer the time. Par. When he was predominant. of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears Hel. When he was retrogade, I think, rather. her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuita Par. Why think you so ? ble: just like the brooch and the toothpick, which Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and Par. That 's for advantage. your porridge, than in your cheek. And your vir- Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes ginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French the safety. But the composition that your valor withered pears : it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, 't is a withered pear: it was formerly better; and I like the wear well. marry, yet 't is a withered pear. Will you any- Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thing with it?

thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in Hel. Not my virginity yet.—

the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize There shall your master have a thousand loves : thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counA mother, and a mistress, and a friend;

sel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon

thee : else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and A guide, a goddess and a sovereign;

thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;

When thou hast liesure, say thy prayers; when His humble ambition, proud humility;

thou hast none, remember thy friends : get thee a His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet; good husband, and use him as he uses thee : so His faith; his sweet disaster : with a world farewell.

[Exit. Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he - Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky I know not what he shall. God send him well! Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull The court 's a learning-place; and he is one — Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. Par. What one, i' faith?

What power is it which mounts my love so high;

now,

That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
The mightiest space in fortune, nature brings Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.

parts Impossible be strange attempts, to those

Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove King. I would I had that corporal soundness To shew her merit, that did miss her love ? The King's disease — my project may deceive me, As when thy father and myself, in friendship, But my intents are fixed, and will not leave me. First tried our soldiership! He did look far

[Exit. Into the service of the time, and was

Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;

But on us both did haggish age steal on, SCENE II.— Paris. A Room in the King's | And wore us out of act. It much repairs me Palace.

To talk of your good father. In his youth

He had the wit which I can well observe Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE,

To-day in our young lords; but they may jest with letters; Lords and others attending.

| Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the Ere they can hide their levity in honor. ears;

So like a courtier, contempt por bitterness Have fought with equal fortune, and continue Were in his pride or sharpness : if they were, A braving war.

His equal had awaked them; and his honor, 1st Lord. So 't is reported, sir. Clock to itself, knew the true minute when King. Nay, 't is most credible: we here re- Exception bid him speak, and at this time ceive it

His tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below A certainty, vouched from our cousin, Austria;

him, With caution that the Florentine will move us He used as creatures of another place; For speedy aid: wherein our dearest friend And bowed his eminent top to their low ranks, Prejudicates the business, and would seem Making them proud of his humility; To have us make denial.

In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man 1st Lord. His love and wisdom, Might be a copy to these younger times; Approved so to your majesty, may plead

Which, followed well, would démonstrate them For amplest credence.

now King. He hath armed our answer, But goers backward. And Florence is denied before he comes :

Ber. His good remembrance, sir, Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see

Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb: The Tuscan service, freely they have leave So in approof lives not his epitaph, To stand on either prrt.

As in your royal speech. 2nd Lord. It may well serve

King. 'Would I were with him! He would A nursery to our gentry, who are sick

always say For breathing and exploit.

(Methinks I hear him now: his plausive words King. What's he comes here.

He scattered not in ears, but grafted them

To grow there and to bear), “Let me not live," — Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.

Thus his good melancholy oft began, 1st Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, lord;

When it was out,—“Let me not live," quoth he, Young Bertram.

“After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses face:

| All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are

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Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies | Clo. I do beg your goodwill in this case.
Expire before their fashions."— This he wished : | Count. In what case ?
I, after him, do after him wish too,

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service is Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, no heritage : and I think I shall never have the I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

blessing of God till I have issue of my body; for To give some laborers room.

they say barnes are blessings. 2nd Lord. You are loved, sir :

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou will marry. They that least lend it you, shall lack you first. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am King. I fill a place, I know't.—How long is 't, driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that count,

the devil drives. Since the physician at your father's died ?

Count. Is this all your worship’s reason ? He was much famed.

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, Ber. Some six months since, my lord. such as they are.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet :- Count. May the world know them? Lend me an arm:— the rest have worn me out I Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, With several applications : nature and sickness as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I Debate it at their liesure. Welcome, count; do marry that I may repent. My son 's no dearer.

Count. Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedBer. Thank your majesty.

ness. [Exeunt. Flourish. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope

to have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. SCENE III.- Roussillon. A Room in the COUNT Clo. You are shallow, madam: e'en great Ess's Palace.

friends; for the knaves come to do that for me

which I am a-weary of. He that ears my land Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown. spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the

crop: if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge. He Count. I will now hear : what say you of this that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh gentlewoman?

| and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood, Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh content, I wish might be found in the calendar of and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my my past endeavors; for then we wound our mod-wife is my friend. If men could be contented to esty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, be what they are, there were no fear in marriage : when of ourselves we publish them. . for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the

Count. What does this knave here? Get you papist, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you, gion, their heads are both one; they may joll horns I do not all believe; 't is my slowness that I do together, like any deer i’ the herd. not: for I know you lack not the folly to commit Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and them, and have ability enough to make such knav- calumnious knave? eries yours.

Clo. A .prophet I, madam; and I speak the Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a truth the next way: –

poor fellow. Count. Well, sir.

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find : Clo. No, madam, 't is not so well that I am

Your marriage comes by destiny, poor, though many of the rich are damned: but if

Your cuckoo sings by kind. I may have your ladyship’s goodwill to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

| more anon.

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Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend Helen come to you : of her I am to speak. his might only where qualities were level; Diana,

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor speak with her; Helen I mean.

knight to be surprised, without rescue in the first

assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered Clown sings.

in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, a virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily Why the Grecians sack'd Troy?

to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that Fond done, done fond,

may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Was this King Priam's joy. With that she sighed as she stood,

Count. You have discharged this honestly; With that she sighed as she stood,

keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me And gave this sentence then :

of this before, which hung so tottering in the balAmong nine bad if one be good,

ance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Among nine bad if one be good,

Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and There 's yet one good in ten.

I thank you for your honest care: I will speak Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the with you further anon.

[Exit Steward. song, sirrah.

Enter HELENA. Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: 'would God would serve Even so it was with me when I was young: the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn the tythe-woman, if I were the parson. One in Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; ten, quoth-a?!- an we might have a good woman Our blood to us, this to our blood is born : born but for every blazing star, or at an earth. It is the show and zeal of nature's truth, quake, 't would mend the lottery well : a man may Where love's strong passion is impressed in youth. draw his heart out, ere he pluck one.

By our remembrances of days foregone, Count. You 'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I Such were our faults; - or then we thought them command you?

none. Clo. That man should be at woman's command, Her eye is sick on 't; I observe her now. and yet no hurt done! — Though honesty be no Hel. What is your pleasure, madam ? puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the Count. You know, Helen, surplice of humility over the black gown of a big I am a mother to you. heart.— I am going, forsooth : the business is for | Hel. Mine honorable mistress. Helen to come hither.

[Exit Clown. Count. Nay, a mother: Count. Well, now.

Why not a mother? When I said “a mother," Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle Methought you saw a serpent. What's in “mo woman entirely.

ther," Count. Faith, I do; her father bequeathed her That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; to me; as she herself, without other advantage, And put you in the catalogue of those may lawfully make title to as much love as she That were enwombéd mine. 'Tis often seen finds. There is more owing her than is paid; and Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds more shall be paid her than she 'll demand. A native slip to us from foreign seeds:

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her You ne'er oppressed me with a mother's groan, than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and Yet I express to you a mother's care.— did commnuicate to herself, her own words to her God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood, own ears : she thought, I dare vow for her, they To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, touch not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she That this distempered messenger of wet, loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no god. The many-colored Iris, rounds thine eye ? dess, that had put such difference betwist their Why? -- that you are my daughter?

Hel. That I am not.

The state of your affection ; for your passions Count. I say, I am your mother

Have to the full appeached. Hel. Pardon, madam;

Hel. Then I confess, The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother : Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, I am from humble, he from honored name: That before you, and next unto high heaven, No note upon my parents, his all noble.

I love your son !

. My master, my dear lord, he is; and I

My friends were poor, but honest; so 's my love. His servant live, and will his vassal die :

Be not offended; for it hurts not him He must not be my brother.

That he is loved of me: I follow him not Count. Nor I your mother?

By any token of presumptuous suit; Hel. You are my mother, madam :-'would you Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; were

Yet never know how that desert should be. (So that my lord your son were not my brother) I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; Indeed my mother ! - or were .you both our mo- Yet in this captious and intenible sieve thers,

I still pour in the waters of my love, I care no more for than I do for heaven,

And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, So I were not his sister. Can't be other Religious in mine error, I adore But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? The sun, that looks upon his worshiper, Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter- But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, in-law :

Let not your hate encounter with my love, God shield you mean it not ! “daughter," and For loving where you do: but if yourself, “ mother,"

Whose agéd honor cites a virtuous youth, So strive upon your pulse What, pale again? Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, My fear hath catched your fondness : now I see Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian The mystery of your loneliness, and find

Was both herself and love,-0 then, give pity Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 't is gross, To her whose state is such that cannot choose You love my son: invention is ashamed,

But lend and give where she is sure to lose; Against the proclamation of thy passion, That seeks not to find that her search implies, To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. But tell me then, 't is so :—for look, thy cheeks Count. Had you not lately an intent (speak Confess it, th' one to th’ other; and thine eyes

truly) See it so grossly shewn in thy behaviors,

To go to Paris? That in their kind they speak it: only sin

Hel. Madam, I had. And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,

Count Wherefore ? — tell true. That truth should be suspected. Speak, is 't so ? | Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;

swear. If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, You know my father left me some prescriptions As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading To tell me truly.

And manifest experience had collected Hel. Good madam, pardon me ! For general sovereignty; and that he willed me Count. Do you love my son ?

In heedfullest reservation to bestow them, Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress ! As notes, whose faculties inclusive were Count. Love you my son ?

More than they were in note : amongst the rest Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? There is a remedy, approved, set down, Count. Go not about: my love hath in 't a To cure the desperate languishings whereof bond

| The King is rendered lost. Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, dis- Count This was your motive close For Paris was it? speak.

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