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ginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly fuited, but unfuitable; just like the 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 formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a 'wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it?
Hel. Not my virginity yet.
There fhall you mafter have a thousand loves,
Hel. That I wish well-'tis pity-
Hel. That withing well had not a body in't,
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 far.
Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars?
Hel. The wars have kept you fo under, that you muft needs be born under Mars.
Par. When he was predominant.
Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Hel. You go fo much backward, when you fight.
Hel. So is running away, when fear propofes 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 answer. 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 under.. ftand what advice fhall thruft upon thee; elfe thou dieft in thine unthankfulnefs, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou haft leisure,. fay thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good hufband, and use him as he ufes thee: fo farewel. [Exit..
Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
The King's disease-my project may deceive 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 th' ears;
King Have fought with equal fortune, and continue:
A braving war.
1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
1 Lord. His love and wifdom,.
Approv'd fo to your Majefty, may plead
King. He hath arm'd our answer;
2 Lord. It may well ferve
A nursery to our gentry, who are fick.
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..
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majefty's.
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks;
In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Which, follow'd well, would now demonftrate them
But goers backward.
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 always fay (Methinks, I hear him now; his plaufive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them To grow there and to bear ;) Let me not live, (Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,,
(4) So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal bad awak'd' them.—]
This paffage feems fo very incorrectly pointed, that the author's meaning is loft in the carelessness. As the text and ftops are ree form'd, these are most beautiful lines, and the fenfe this" He "had no contempt or bi terness; if he had any thing that look'd like "pride or fharpness, (of which qualities contempt and bitterness are "the excelles,) his equal had awak'd them, not his inferior; to "whom he fcorn'd to discover any thing that bore the fhadow of "pride or fharpness," Mr. Warburton.
When it was out,) let me not live,. (quoth he,)
(Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,)
To give fome labourers room.
2 Lord. You're loved, Sing
They, that leaft lend it you, shall lack you first.
He was much fam'd.
Ber. Some fix months, fince, my Lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet;
Lend me an arm
the reft have worn me out
With feveral applications; nature and fickness.
Debate it at their leisure.
My fon's no dearer,
Ber. Thank your Majefty
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon. Enter Countess, Steward and Clown.
Will now hear; what fay you of this gentle woman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar, of my past endeavours; (5) for then we wound our modefty,
(5) For then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of dur defervings, zoben of ourselves we publish them.] This fentiment our author has again inculcated in his Troilus and Creffida.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If he, that's prais'd, himself bring the pra fe forth.
I won't pretend, that Shakespeare is here treading in the Aeps of febylus; but that poet has fomething in his Agamemnon, which might very well be a foundation to what our author has advanced in both thefe paffages.