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 fare

well.

[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
high;

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

To stand on either part.

2 Lord. It may well serve

A nursury 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

now,

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* me
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 hist 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 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 judgements are Mere fathers of their garments; whose con

stancies

SCENE III.-Rousillon. A Room in the
COUNTESS' 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 surh knaveries yours.

C.. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor ellow.

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?
Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service is no 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 wicked

ness.

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;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Count. Get you gone, Sir; I'll talk with you

more anon.

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her; Helen I mean.

Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
[Singing.

Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, & done fond,

Was this king Priam's joy?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,

And gave this sentence then;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.

Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah.

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a 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 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 com. mand, 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.

Count. Well, now.

[Exit CLOWN.

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 communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; 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

* The nearest way. + Foolishly done. † Sinoz.

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

Enter HELENA.

[Exit STEWARD.

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

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in
youth:

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;

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 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

(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) [mothers, Indeed, my mother! or were you both 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 daughter-in-law;

(mother,

God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and
So strivet upon your pulse: What, pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I
The mystery of your loneliness, and find [see
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 kinds they speak it: only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,

I. e. I care as much for: I wish it equally. + Contend.

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

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.

Het. 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
[disclose

bond,

Whereof the world takes note: come, come, The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel. Then, I confess,
Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
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

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

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;t 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
To go to Paris?

Hel. Madam, I had.

Count. Wherefore? tell true.

[truly,

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 heedfullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note: amongst the
There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, [rest,
To cure the desperate languishes, whercof
The king is 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.

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,

I. e. Whose respectable conduct in age proves that you were no less virtuous when young. + I. c. Venus. + Receipts in which greater virtues were enclosed than appeared,

The bravest questant; shrinks, find what you That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty!

them;

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of They say, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve.

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 us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault: the spark2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars!

Par. Mostadmirable: I have seen those wars.

tured 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 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 ex

pressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, t 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.

Laf. 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 sprightly fire and motion; whose simple Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay, [touch 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, [honour, If you will see her,-now, by my faith and If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession,tt Wisdom, and constancy, hath amazed me more

* In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentlemen to dance with swords on.

+ They are the foremost in the fashion.

↑ Have the true military step.

The dance.

|| Unskilfully; a phrase taken from the exercise at a quaintaine.

A female physician.

**A kind of dance.

++ By profession is meant ber declaration of the object of her coming.

see her

King. Now, good Lafeu,

Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine, By wond'ring how thou took'st it.

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither.

[Exit LAFEU.

King. Thus he his special nothing ever pro

logues.

My father; in what he did profess, well found.t King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, He bad me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so: And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness.

King. 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 judgement, 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.
Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains:
I will no more enforce mine office on you;
Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts
A modest one, to bear me back again.

grateful:

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd [give, Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I 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 judgement shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown

[dried, From simple sources; and great seas have When miracles have by the greatest been

denied.

* I am like Pandarus,

+ Of acknowledged excellence. † A third eye.
An allusion to Daniel judging the two elders.
I. e. When Moses smote the rock in Horeb.

This must refer to the children of Israel passing the

Red Sea, when miracles had been denied by Pharaoh,

Where most it promises; and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits.
King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well,
kind maid;

Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid :
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:
But most it is presumption in us, when
The help of heaven we count the act of men.
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, Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring; Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperust hath quench'd his sleepy lamp; Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. What dar'st thou venture? King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,

Hel. Tax of impudence,

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended.

King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit

doth speak;

His powerful sound, within an organ weak:
And what impossibility would slay

In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate;‡
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and primes can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try;
That ministers thine own death, if I die.

Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die;
[fee;
And well deserv'd: Not helping, death's my
But, if I help, what do you promise me?
King. Make thy demand.
Hel. But will you make it even?

King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of

heaven.

kingly hand,

Hel. Then shalt thou give me, with thy What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France; My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state: But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. King. Here is my hand; the premis premises observ'd, Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd; So make the choice of thy own time; for I, Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must; Though, more to know, could not be more to