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Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord ;

by being once lost, may be ten times found : by "Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord, being ever kept, it is ever lost. 'Tis too cold a Advise bim.

companion : away with 't. Laf. He cannot want the best

Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore That shall attend his love.

80 I die a virgin. Count. Heaven bless him ! Farewell, Bertram. Par. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against

Exit. the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virBer. To HELENA. The best wishes that can ginity is to accuse your mothers, which is most be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and is a virgin : virginity murders itself, and should make much of her.

be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : you must hold as a desperate offendress against nature. Virthe credit of your father.

ginity breeds mites, much like a cheese, consumes Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. | itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding llel. O! were that all. I think not on my his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, father ;

proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most And these great tears grace his remembrance inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you

cannot choose but lose by 't. Qut with 't! within Than those I shed for him. What was he like? the year it will make itself two, which is a goodly I have forgot him: my imagination

91 increase, and the principal itself not much the Carries no favour in 't but Bertram's.

worse. Away with it. I am undone : there is no living, none,

He. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her If Bertram be away. It were all one

own liking ? That I should love a bright particular star

Par. Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that And think to wed it, he is so above me :

ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the In his bright radiance and collateral light gloss with lying ; the longer kept, the less worth: Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.

off with 't while 'tis vendible ; answer the time The ambition in my love thus plagues itself : of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears The hind that would be mated by the lion 100 her cap out of fashion ; richly suited, but unsuit. Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, able : just like the brooch and the toothpick, To see him every hour; to sit and draw

which wear not now. Your date is better in His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, your pie and your porridge than in your cheek: In our heart's table ; heart too capable

and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy drily; marry, 'tisa withered pear; it was formerly Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here? better; marry, yet ’tis a withered pear. Will you One that goes with him : I love him for his sake; any thing with it ? And yet I know him a notorious liar,

Hel. Not my virginity yet.
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 110 There shall your master have a thousand loves,
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,

A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
Look bleak i'the cold wind : withal, full oft we see A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;

His humble ambition, proud humility,
Enter PAROLLES.

His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, Par. Save you, fair queen!

His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world Hel. And

you,
monarch!

Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
Par. No.

That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall heHel. And no.

I know not what he shall. God send him well! Par. Are you meditating on virginity ? The court 's a learning-place, and he is one

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in Par. What one, i' faith ? you; let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to Hel. That I wish well. 'Tis pityvirginity; how may we barricado it against him? Par. What's pity ? Par. Keep him out.

Hd. That wishing well had not a body in 't, Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born, valiant in the defence, yet is weak. Unfold to Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, us some war-like resistance.

Might with effects of them follow our friends, Par. There is none: man, sitting down before And show what we alonemust think, which never you, will undermine you and blow you up. Returns us thanks.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy,

Enter a Page. how virgins might blow up men ?

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Par. Virginity being blown down, man will

Erit. quicklier be blown up : marry, in blowing him Par, Little Helen, farewell : if I can remember down again, with the breach yourselves made, thee, I will think of thee at court. you lose yourcity. It is not politic in the common- Ile. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under wealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of a charitable star. virginity is rational increase, and there was never Par. Under Mars, I. virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you He. I especially think, under Mars. were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity, Par. Why under Mars !

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Hd. The wars have so kept you under that King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; you must needs be born under Mars.

Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Par. When he was predominant.

Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral Hd. When he was retrograde, I think rather. parts Par. Why think you so ?

21 May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. Par. That's for advantage.

King. I would I had that corporal soundness Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes now, the safety : but the composition that your valour As when thy father and myself in friendship and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, First tried our soldiershipi He did look far and I like the wear well.

Into the service of the time and was Par. I am so full of businesses I cannot answer Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long ; thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier ; in But on us both did haggish age steal on, the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize And wore us out of act. It much repairs me thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's To talk of your good father. In his youth counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust He had the wit which I can well observe upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankful. To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest pess, and thine ignorance makes thee away: Till their own scorn return to them unnoted farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy Ere they can hide their levity in honour. prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness friends. Get thee a good husband, and use him Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, as he uses thee : so farewell.

Excit. His equal had awak'd them; and his honour, Hel. Our remedi oft ourselves do lie Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 230 Exception bid him speak, and at this time Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.

him What power is it which mounts my love so high; He us'd as creatures of another place, That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, The mightiest space in fortune nature brings Making them proud of his humility, To join like likes, and kiss like native things. In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Impossible be strange attempts to those Might be a copy to these younger times, That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? 240 But goers backward. The king's disease-my project may deceive me, Ber.

His good remembrance, sir, But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me. Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;

Exit. So in approof lives not his epitaph

As in your royal speech. SCENE II.- Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. King. Would I were with him! He would

always say, Flourish of cornets. Enter the Kixg, with letters ; Methinks I hear him now: his plausive words Lords and others attending.

He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them, Kiny. The Florentines and Senoys are by the To grow there and to bear ; 'Let me not live,'ears ;

Thus his good melancholy oft began, Have fought with equal fortune, and continue On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, A braving war.

When it was out, -Let me not live,' quoth he, Piret Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.

After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff King. Nay, 'tis most credible: we here receive it Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, All but new things disdain ; whose judgments With caution that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend Mere fathers of theirgarments; whose constancies Prejudicates the business, and would seem Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd : To have us make denial.

I, after him, do after him wish too, Pirst Lord.

His love and wisdom, 10 Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
For amplest credence.

To give some labourers room.
King.
He hath arm'd our answer, Second Lord.

Yon are lov'd, sir ; And Florence is denied before he comes : They that least lend it you shall lack you first. Yet, for onr gentlemen that mean to see

King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long is 't, The Tuscan service, freely have they leave

count, To stand on either part,

Since the physician

your father's died ? Second Lord.

It well may serve He was much fam’d. A nursery to our gentry, who are sick

Ber.

Some six months since, my lord. For breathing and exploit.

king. If he were living, I would try him yet : King. What's he comes here? Lend me an arm : the rest have worn me out

With several applications : nature and sickness Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.

Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ; First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good My son 's no dearer. lord,

Ber.

Thank your majesty. Young Bertram.

Flourish. Exeunt.

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For I the ballad will repeat,
SCENE III.-Rousillon. A Room in the

Which men full true shall find;
COUNTESS's Palace.

Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind.
Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown.

Count. Get you gone, sir : I'll talk with you Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman?

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your Helen come to you : of her I am to speak. content, I wish might be found in the calendar Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would of my past endeavours ; for then we wound our speak with her; Helen I mean. modesty and make foul the clearness of our de

Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, servings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Count. What does this knave here! Get you

Fond done, done fond, gone, sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you

Was this King Priam's joy ? I do not all believe : 'tis my slowness that I do

With that she sighed as she stood, not ; for I know you lack not folly to commit

With that she sighed as she stood, them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

and gave this sentence then ; C'lo. "Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am

Among nine bad if one be good,

Among nine bad if one be good, a poor fellow.

There's yet one good in ten. Count. Well, sir,

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, Count. What! one good in ten? you corrupt though many of the rich are damned. But, if I the song, sirrah. may have your ladyship's good will to go to the Clo. One good woman in ten, madam ; which world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we is a purifying o' the song. Would God would may.

serve the world so all the year! we'd find no Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

fault with the tithe-woman if I were the parson. Clu. I do beg your good will in this case. One in ten, quoth a'! An we might have a good Count. In what case ?

woman born but for every blazing star, or at an Clo. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well : a is no heritage; and I think I shall never have man may draw his heart out ere a' pluck one. 94 the blessing of God till I have issue o' my body, Count. You 'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I for they say barnes are blessings.

command you ! Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt Clo. That man should be at woman's command, marry.

30 and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go surplice of humility over the black gown of a that the devil drives.

big heart. I am going, forsooth: the business Count. Is this all your worship's reason ? is for Helen to come hither.

Exit. 102 Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, Count. Well, now. such as they are.

Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle. Count. May the world know them ?

woman entirely. Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her as you and all flesh and blood are; and indeed, to me; and she herself, without other advantage, I do marry that I may repent.

may lawfully make title to as much love as she Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked- finds: there is more owing her than is paid, and ness.

more shall be paid her than she 'll demand. 110 Clo. I am out o’ friends, madam ; and I hope Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her to have friends for my wife's sake.

than I think she wished me: alone she was, and Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. did communicate to herself her own words to

Clo. You ’re shallow, madam, in great friends; her own ears ; she thought, I dare vow for her, for the knaves come to do that for me which I they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter an aweary of. He that ears my land spares my was, she loved your son : Fortune, she said, was team, and gives me leave to in the crop: if I be no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt his cuckold, he's my drudge. He that comforts their two estates; Love, no god, that would not my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; extend his might, only where qualities were level; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my Dian, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her flesh and blood ; he that loves my flesh and blood poor knight surprised, without rescue in the first is my friend : ergo, he that kisses my wife is my assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered friend. If men could be contented to be what in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I they are, there were no fear in marriage : for heard virgin exclaim in ; which I held my duty young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence in the papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in loss that may happen, it concerns you something religion, their heads are both one ; they may to know it. joll horns together, like any deer i' the herd. 60 Count. You have discharged this honestly :

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods informed calumnious knave?

me of this before, which hung so tottering in Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the the balance that I could neither believe nor mistruth the next way:

doubt. Pray you, leave me : stall this in your

:

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bosom; and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon.

Exit Steward.

Enter HELENA.

Even so it was with me when I was young:
If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this
thorn

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born:
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults; or then we thought them

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none.

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 honourable mistress.
Count.

Then, I confess,
Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven, 200
I love your son.

My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love :
Be not offended, for it hurts not him
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit ;
Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore

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The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love
For loving where you do: but if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever in so true a flame of liking
Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and Love: O! then, give pity
To her, whose state is such that cannot choose
But lend and give where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
To go to Paris?

Madam, I had.

Nay, a mother:
Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,'
Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother'
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seen
Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds;
You ne'er oppress'd 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 distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why? that you are my daughter?

Hel.
That I am not. 160
Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel.
Pardon, madam;
The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother :
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble :
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die.
He must not be my brother.

Count.

Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, madam: would you

191

If it be not, forswear 't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
Hel.
Good madam, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my son?
Hel.
Your pardon, noble mistress!
Count. Love you my son?
Hel.
Do not you love him, madam?
Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a
bond,
Whereof the world takes note: come, come, dis-
close

The state of your affection, for your passions
Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel.

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So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross
You love my son: invention is asham'd,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it, the one to the other; and thine eyes
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours
That in their kind they speak it only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected. Speak, is 't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew;

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230

Hel.
Count.
Wherefore? tell true.
Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,
As notes whose faculties inclusive were
More than they were in note. Amongst the rest,
There is a remedy approv'd, set down
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The king is render'd lost.

Count.

This was your motive

For Paris, was it? speak.

Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 240 Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then.

Count.
But think you, Helen.
If you should tender your supposed aid,
He would receive it? He and his physicians
Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,
They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off
The danger to itself?