I have forgot him: my imagination One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Par. No. Hel. And no. Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, will blow you up. 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 quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him 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: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it. Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. 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 'tis 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 tooth-pick, 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 wither'd pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a wither'd year: Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet. There shall your master have a thousand loves, Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity-- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't, 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. 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. Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. 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 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 leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell. [Erit. Par. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir-like the wear well. ginity, 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. Virginity 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? 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? That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose, King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; 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 Prejudicates the business; and would seem To have us make denial. 1 Lord. So in approof lives not his epitaph, As in your royal speech. [ways say, King. 'Would, I were with him? He would al(Methinks, I hear him now: his plausive 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, When it was out, let me not live, quoth he, After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions:— -This he wish'd: I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room. 2 Lord. You are lov'd, sir: 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 fam'd. 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 He hath arm'd our answer, Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead King. And Florence is denied before he comes: Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part. 2 Lord. It may well serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. 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. Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man Ber. His good remembrance, sir Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; Rousillon.-A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown. Count. I will now hear what say you of this gentlewoman? Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours: 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; 'tis my slowness, that I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. Count. Well, sir. Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: But, if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Service is no Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. heritage and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings. Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt 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 wickedness. Imunicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; 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, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh 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 truth the next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. a Clo. One good woman in ten, madam? which is 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, 'twould 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 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. [Exit Clown. Count. Well, now. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. Faith, I do her father bequeathed her to me; and 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 com she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend 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 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 with you further [Exit Steward. anon. Enter HELENA. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young: Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. You know, Helen, Nay, a mother; That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often seen, That I am not. Pardon, madam; Hel. Count. Nor I your mother? Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in- You love my son; invention is asham'd, That truth should be suspected: Speak, is't so? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! Count. Love you my son? Do not you love him, madam? Hel. Then, I confess Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him; The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But know of him no more. My dearest madam, Hel. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me Count. For Paris, was it? speak. This was your motive Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, Haply, been absent then. Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, ciples King. Farewell, young lords, these warlike prin- 1 Lord. King. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. King. Farewell.-Come hither to me. [The KING retires to a couch. 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind Par. "Tis not his fault; the spark[us! 2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars! Par. Most admirable; I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with, Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles! Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword intrench'd it say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! [Exeunt Lords.] What will you do? Ber. Stay; the king [Seeing him rise. Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. Ber. And I will do so. Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES. Enter LAFEU. Laf. Pardon, my lord, [kneeling.] for me and for King. I'll fee thee to stand up. [my tidings. Lat. Then here's a man Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you Good faith, across; But, my good lord, 'tis thus; Will you be cured Of your infirmity? King. Laf. No. O, will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will, My noble grapes, an if my royal fox Could reach them: I have seen a medicine, That's able to breathe life into a stone; Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary, With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay, To give Great Charlemain a pen in his hand And write to her a love-line. King. What her is this? Laf. Why, doctor she; My lord, there's one arriv'd, If you will see her,-now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd ine more Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you see her (For that is her demand) and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. King. Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine, By wondering how thou took'st it. Laf. And not be all day neither. Nay, I'll fit you, [Exit LAFEU. King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA. Laf. Nay, come your ways. Laf. Nay, come your ways; This is his majesty, say your mind to him: Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure,When our most learned doctors leave us; and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate,-I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics; or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. I will no more enforce mine office on you; Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains: Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one, to bear me back again. King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks 1 give, As one near death to those that wish him live: But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art. Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy : He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister : So holy writ in babes hath judgment shewn, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources; and great seas have dried, When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits, Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid : [maid: King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward. Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: It is not so with him that all things knows, As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows: The help of heaven we count the act of men. But most it is presumption in us, when Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent: Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim ; But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power, nor you past cure. King. Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure? Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, This haste hath wings indeed. Ere twice in murk and occidental damp |