Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; Hel. And you, monarch. Par. No. Hel. And no. Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier 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 assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us 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 commonwealth 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 self-love, 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 principle itself not much the worse: Away with't. [own liking? Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her Pur. 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 Hel. Not my virginity yet. [it? 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, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall heI know not what he shall :-God send him well!The court's a learning-place; and he is onePar. What one, i'faith? Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a Par. Under Mars, I. [charitable star. 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 retrogade, I think, rather. Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. 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 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 suppose, It may well serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. King. What's he come here? Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. 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. In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man [now (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words Expire before their fashions :-This he wish'd: count, Since the physician at your father's died? Ber. Thank your majesty. [Exeunt. Flourish. SCENE III.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's 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 the 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. Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damn'd: 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. 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 will 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. [ness. Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedClo. 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 [calumnious knave? deer i' the herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and 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; Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, (Singing.) Why the Grecian sacked Troy? Was this king Priam's joy. 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 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 [Exit Clown. [woman entirely. Helen to come hither. I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. Nay, a mother; That were enwombed mine: "Tis often seen, You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Count. I say, I am your mother. That I am not. Pardon, madam; were (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) I care no more for, than I do for heaven, Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle-God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, Count. Faith, I do her father bequeathed her So strive upon your pulse: What, pale again? to me; and she herself, without other advantage, My fear bath catch'd your fondness: Now I see may lawfully make title to as much love as she The mystery of your loneliness, and find finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and Your salt tear's head. Now to all sense 'tis gross, more shall be paid her, than she'll demand. 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. 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 misdoubt: Pray you, leave me : stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with further anon. [Exit Steward. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young: Enter HELENA. If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; you Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; Hel. Hel. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Yet, in this captious and intenable sieve, The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, Madam, I had. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me Count. For Paris, was it? speak. This was your motive 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 oredit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself? Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your Will not confess, he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy, (Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall' Of the last monarchy,) see, that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! King, Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; Both. (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. Most admirable: I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with; Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with: By heaven I'll steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. grow to you, and our parting is a tortured 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. [body. 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 specious 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, 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. Par. Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram and Parolles. Enter LAFEu. Laf. Pardon, my lord, (kneeling) for me and for my tidings. King. I'll fee thee to stand up. Laf. Then here's a man Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. King. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. Laf. Good faith, across : But, my good lord, 'tis thus: Will you be cur'd Of your infirmity? King. Laf No. 0, 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 King. Laf. Why, doctor she: My lord, there's one arriv'd, If you will see her,-now, by my faith and honour, Nay, I'll fit you, [Exit Lafeu. King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. Re-enter LAFEU with HELENA. And not be all day neither. Laf. Nay, come your ways. This haste hath wings indeed. us? Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was My father; in what he did profess, well found. King. I knew him. [him; Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so: King. We thank you, maiden; A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: [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, From simple sources; and great seas have dried, King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid: 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 Hesperus 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. King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, What dar'st thou venture? Hel. Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,- King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak; His powerful sound, within an organ weak: Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property To choose from forth the royal blood of France; King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, trust; From whence thou cam'st, how tended on,-But Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest.— Give me some help here, ho!-If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. [Flourish. Exeunt SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. |