Puslapio vaizdai

Count. What hope is there of his Majefty's amendment?

Laf. He hatl. abandon'd his phyficians, Madam, under whofe practices he hath perfecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the procefs, but only the lofing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, that bad! how fad a prefage 'tis!) whofe fkill was almoft as great as his honefty; had it ftretch'd fo far, it would have made nature immortal, and death fhould have play'd for lack of work. 'Would, for the King's fake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the King's difeafe.

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Laf. How call'd you the man you fpeak of, Madam? Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profeffion, and it was his great right to be fo: Gerard de Narbon.

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Laf. He was excellent, indeed, Madam; the King very lately fpoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: he was fkilful enough to have liv'd ftill, if knowledge could be fet up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good Lord, the King languishes of?!

Laf. A fiftula, my Lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His fole child, my Lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have thofe hopes of her good, that her education promifes her: difpofition fhe inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities*, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for her fimplenefs; fhe derives her honefty, and at.chieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her


Count. 'Tis the beft brine a maiden can feafon her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her forrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena;

By virtuous qualities here are not meant thofe of a moral kind,

but such as are acquired by erudition and good breeding.

Helena; go to, no more; left it be rather thought you affect a forrow, than to have it.

Hel. I do affect a forrow, indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,. exceffive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be not enemy to the grief, the exceís makes it foon mortal:

Ber. Madam, I defire your holy wishes.

Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou blefs'd, Bertram, and fucceed 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, truft a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power, than ufe; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for filence, But never tax'd for fpeech. What heav'n more will, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! farewell, my Lord;

'Tis an unfeafon'd courtier, good my Lord, Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best,.

That fhall attend his love.

Count. Heav'n bless him! Farewell, Bertram.

[Exit Countefs. Ber. [To Hel.] The beft wilhes that can be forg❜d in your thoughts, be fervants to you! Be comfortable to my mother your miftrefs, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty Lady, you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.


Hel. Oh, were that all!I think not on my father;
And thefe great tears grace his remembrance more
Than thofe I fhed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him. My imagination

Carries no favour in it, but my
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I fhould love a bright partic'lar far,
And think to wed it; he is fo above me:



In his bright radiance and collateral light.
Muft I be comforted, not in his fphere.
Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself;
The hind that would be mated by the lion,
Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To fee him every hour; to fit, and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curts,
In our heart's table; heart too capable

Of every line and trick of his fweet favour!
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Muft fanctify his relics. Who comes here?

Enter Parolles.

One that goes with him; I love him for his fake,
"And yet I know him a notorious liar;
"Think him a great way fool, folely a coward;
"Yet thefe fix'd evils fit fo fit in him,

"That they take place, when Virtue's feely bones
"Look bleak in the cold wind;" full off we fee
Cold Wifdom waiting on fuperfluous Folly,


Par, Save you, fair Queen.

Hel. And you, Monarch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay; you have fome ftain

of foldier in you;

let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barricado it against him?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he affails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us fome warlike refiftance.

Par. There is none: man, fetting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Blefs our poor virginity from underminers and


+ Cold for naked; as fuperfluous for over-cloth'd.

Stain for colour.


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 yourfelves made, you lofe your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Lofs of virginity is rational increafe; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first loft. That you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once loft, may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever loft; 'tis too cold a companion: away with't.

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


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Par. There's little can be faid in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, 'tis to accufe your mother;, which is moft infallible difobedience. As he that hangs himself, fo is a virgin: Virginity murthers itself, and should be buried in highways out of all fanctified limit, as a defperate offendress againft nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; confumes itfelf to the very paring, and fo dies with feeding its own ftomach. Befides, virginity is 'peevish, proud, idle, made of felf-love; which is the: moft prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you 'cannot chufe but löfe by't. Out with't; within ten ' years it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worfe. Away ' with't.'

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

Par. Let me-fee. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lofe the glofs with lying. The longer kept, the lefs worth; off with't while 'tis vendible. Anfwer the time of requeft. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly fuited, but unfuitable: just like the brooch and the toothpick, 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 dryly; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear: it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd

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wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it. Hel. Not my virginity yet.

-God fend him well!

There fhall your mafter have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a miftrefs, and a friend *;
I know not what he fhall-
The court's a learning place
Par. What one, i' faith?

Hel. That I with well-
Par. What's pity?

and he is gone

-'tis pity

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't
Which might be felt; that we the poorer born,
Whose bafer ftars do fhut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends;
And fhew what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter Page.

Page. Monfieur Parolles,

My Lord calls for


[Exit Page.

Par. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monfieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable ftar.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I efpecially think under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have kept you fo under, that you must» needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think rather.

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Par. Why think you fo?

Hel. You go fo much backward, when you fight.

and a friend,

A phoenix, captain, and an enemy;
A guide, a goddess, and a fovereign:
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear:
His humble ambition, proud humility;
His jarring concord; and his difcord dulcet;
His faith, his fweet difafter; with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious Chriftendoms.
That blinking Cupid goflips. Now fhall he→→→
I know not, &c.


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