swer 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,

vice 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. [Exit. well.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull [dull.

Our slow designs, when we ourselves are What power is it, which mounts my love so high; [eye? That makes me see, and cannot feed mine 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 suppose, What hath been cannot be: Who ever strove To show her merit, that did miss her love? The king's disease---my project may deceive me, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave

His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,

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?

Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity——
Par. What's pity?

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

Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can re. member 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.
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, ra

ther.

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 ad

me.

[Exit. SCENE II. Paris. A Room in the King's Palace.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others attending.

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. [ceive it
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here re-
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.
His love and wisdom,
Approved 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 composed 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 sound

ness now,

* A quibble on date, which means age, and candied fruit. ti. e., And show by realities what we now must only think. i. e., Thou wilt comprehend it." Things formed by nature for each other. The citizens of the small republic, of which Sienna is the capital.

As when thy father, and myself, in friendship |
First try'd 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 annoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor 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,
Histongue 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 démonstrate
But goers backward.
[them 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.

[always say,
King. 'Would, I were with him! He would
(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
Thus his good melancholy oft began, [live,-
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
[ments are

senses

All but new things disdain; whose judg-
Mere futhers of their garments; whose
constancies
[wish'd:
Expire before their fashions:--This he
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 loved, sir;
They, that least lend it you, shall lack you
first.
[is't, count,
King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long
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
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's no dearer.
Ber.

Thank your majesty.
[Exeunt. Flourish.

SCENE III. Rousillon. A Room in the
Countess's Palace.

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown.

• To repair here signifies to renovate.

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 clear ness 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, madamı, '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 wick edness.

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 t 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 mar riage; 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.

Who have no other use of their faculties than to invent new modes of dress

* Children. tt Ploughs.

Therefore

Count. Wilt thon 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 cor-
rupt 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 tithe-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 Leart 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. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gen tlewoman entirely.

Count. Well, now.

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'il demand.

sense.

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 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 ransome 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 anon. [Exit Steward.

Enter HELENA. 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;

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 By our remembrances of days foregone, youth: Such were our faults;-or then we thought

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
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
[ther,)
(So that my lord, your son, were not my bro-
Indeed, my mother!-or were you both our
mothers,

I care no more fors, 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;

The nearest way. + Foolishly done. Since. i. e., I care as much for: I wish it equally.

ACT

• Contend. The source, the cause of your grief. According to their nature. i, e., Whose respectable conduct in age proves that you were no less virtuous when young fi.C., Venus. Receipts in which greater virtues were enclosed than appeared.

** Exhausted of their skill.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my expressive to them; for they wear themselves

* i. e., Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman Empire, + Seeker, inquirer. Be not captives before you are soldiers. With a noise, bustle. 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. 1 The dance. # Uo skilfully; a phrase taken from the exercise at a quintaine. A female physician. kind of dance. By profession is meant her declaration of the object of her coming,