Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?
Count. Be thou bless'd, Bertram! and succeed
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, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more
will,

That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,

Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,
'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. [Exit COUNTESS. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [To HELENA] be servants to you ! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, 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 these great tears grace his remembrance

more

Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though
plague,

a

To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick ¶ of his sweet favour :**
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?

Enter PAROLLES.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ;
Yet these fix'd evils sit to fit in him,

some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and 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 coinmonwealth 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. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, 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 selflove, 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 princi pal itself not much the worse: Away with't.

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

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 withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,

artless.

I know not what he shall :-God send him well!

The court's a learning-place ;—and he is one-Par. What one, i'faith?

A quibble on date, which means age, and candied fruit.

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. 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. [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 bigh;

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. t
Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense; and do sup-
pose

What bath 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.

1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer, 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 Young Bertram. {lord, 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.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness

now,

me

As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs •
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt not bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below
He used as creatures of another place; [him
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them
But goers backward.
[now

Ber. His good remembrance, Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King. 'Would, I were with him! He would always say,

(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 beel of pastime,
When it was out,-Let me not live, quoth be,
After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain ; whose judgments

are

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;

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

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.

• I.e. And show by realities what we now must only think.

+ I. c. Thou wilt comprehend it.

Things formed by nature for each other.

The citizens of the small republic of which Sienna is the capital.

stancies

Expire before their fashions:-This he wish'd. 1, 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 end it you, shall lack you

first.

Hel. Then, I confess,

youth:

By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults;-or then we thought

them 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. Nay, a mother;

Why not a mother? When I said a mother, Methought you saw a serpent: What's a 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.

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 were

(So that my lord, your son, were not

brother,) mothers,

Indeed, my mother!-or were you both

my

our

I care no more for, than I do for heaven,
So I were not his sister: Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daugh-
ter-in-law;

God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother,

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, 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 clue;
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 nadam, 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, disclose

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

1. e. I care as much for: I wish it equally.

↑ Contend.

The source, the cause of your grief. According to their nature.

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,

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper
But knows of him no more. My dearest ma
dam,

4

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; ohi 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?

Hel. Madam, I had.

Count. Wherefore? tell true.

Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I

swear.

You know my father left me some prescrip.

tions

Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
Iu beedfullest 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 languishes, 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,
Had, from the conversation of my thoughts,
Haply, been absent then.

Means and attendants, and my loving greetings
To those of mine own court: I'll stay at home,
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-Paris.-A Room in the King's

Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, with young LORDS, taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants.

King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike principles

Do not throw from you:-And you, my lord, farewell;

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,
And is enough for both.

1 Lord. It is our hope, Sir,

After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart

Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, lords;

young

kiu. 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 entrenched 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, t eat, speak, and move auder 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 swordinen.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES.

Laf. Oh! 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 sprightly 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, profes
sion,

Wisdom, and constancy, hath amazed me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you see