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more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have. Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it

too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead; excessive grief the enemy to the living. Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram; and succeed
thy father

In manners as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will,

That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck

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Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the you, will undermine you, and blow you up. credit of your father.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. Hel. O, were that all! I think not on my father:

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men ?

Par. Virginity being blown down, man will

And these great tears grace his remembrance quicklier be blown-up: marry, in blowing him

more

Than those I shed for him. What was he like?

I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favor in it but Bertram's.
I am undone there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away It were all one
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it; he is so above me!
In his bright radiance and collateral light

down again with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 't is too cold a companion; away with it.

Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Hel. That I wish well.
Par. What 's pity?

"Tis pity

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't,
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 shew what we alone must think; which

never

Par. There's little can be said in 't; 't is against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, 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 his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by 't: out with 't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse: away with 't.

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me see:marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't, while 't is vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 't is a withered pear: it was formerly better; marry, yet 't is a withered pear. Will you anything with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.—

There shall your master have a thousand loves:
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend;

A phoenix, captain, and an enemy;
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?

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page.

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

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 unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast liesure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell. [Exit.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 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;

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Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
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 honor.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness: if they were,
His equal had awaked them; and his honor,
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

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Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.

1st Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord;

Young Bertram.

King.

face:

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grow there and to bear), "Let me not live,”— Thus 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

Youth, thou bear'st thy father's Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses

All but new things disdain; whose judgments are

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They that least lend it you, shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know 't.-How long is 't, count,

Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much famed.

Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
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 liesure.
My son's no dearer.

Ber.

Welcome, count;

Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt. Flourish.

SCENE III.-Roussillon. A Room in the COUNTESS's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown.

Clo. I do beg your goodwill in this case. Count. In what case?

Service is

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. no heritage and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue of my body; for they say barnes are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou will marry. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason? Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage sooner than thy wicked

ness.

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. Clo. You are shallow, madam: e'en great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am a-weary of. He that ears my land 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?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavors; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 't is my slowness that I do not: for I know you lack not the folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage : for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one; they may joll horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?

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.

Clo. No, madam, 't is not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned: but if I may have your ladyship's goodwill to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find: Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you

more anon.

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.

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean.

Clown sings.

Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,

Why the Grecians sack'd Troy?
Fond done, done fond,

Was this King Priam's joy.
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,

And gave this sentence then:
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,

There's yet one good in ten.

his might only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it.

Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak [Exit Steward.

Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the with you further anon. song, sirrah.

Enter HELENA.

Even so it was with me when I was young:
If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: 'would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth-a'! an we might have a good woman born but for every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 't would mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one. Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I Such were our faults; command you?

Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: the business is for

-

Helen to come hither.

Count. Well, now.

[Exit Clown.

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born:
It is the show and zeal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impressed in youth.
By our remembrances of days foregone,

none.

or then we thought them

Her eye is sick on 't; I observe her now.
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Count. You know, Helen,

I am a mother to you.

Hel. Mine honorable mistress.

Count.

Nay, a mother:

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 "mowoman entirely.

Count. Faith, I do; her father bequeathed her to me; as she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she 'll demand.

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and did commnuicate to herself, her own words to her own ears she thought, I dare vow for her, they touch not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their

ther,"

That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those
"T is often seen
That were enwombéd mine.
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds:
You ne'er oppressed me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care.—
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood,
To say I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distempered messenger of wet,
The many-colored Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why? -- that you are my daughter?

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