And think to wed it, he is so above me: 2 Of every line and trick of his sweet favour 3: Enter PAROLles. One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; 1 That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. Par. Save you, fair queen. Hel. And you, monárch. -You're for the court. A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 2 Peculiarity of feature. -- Now shall he God send him well! and he is one 3 Countenance. Hel. That I wish well.. '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 show what we alone must think; which never Returns us thanks. Enter a Page. 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. 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. 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. 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, 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. A Room in the King's Palace. Flourish of Cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others attending. King. The Florentines and Senoys' are by the ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 1 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 4 Things formed by nature for each other. 5 The citizens of the small republic of which Sienna is the capital. Prejudicates the business, and would seem 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead King. 2 Lord. King. What's he comes here? Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. now, Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. Clock to itself, knew the true minute when And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man Which, follow'd well, would démonstrate them now Ber. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; As in your royal speech. King. 'Would, I were with him! He would al ways say, (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words Let me not live, Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, To give some labourers room. You are lov'd, sir; 2 Lord. 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 fanı'd. Approbation. |