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Laf. He hath abandon'd his physicians, Madam, under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope ; and finds no other advantage in the process, but only the lofing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, that had! how sad a presage ʼtis !), whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretch'd so far, it would have made nature immortal, and death should 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 disease.

Laf. How call’d you the man you speak of, Madam?

Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so : Gerard de Narbon.

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

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

Laf. A fistula, my Lord.
Der. 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 those hopes of her good, that her education promises her: disposition the 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 simpleness; she derives her honesty, and atchieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her tears.

Gount. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this,

By virtuous qualities here are not meant those 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.

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Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excelsive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be not 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 filence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heav'n more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head ! farewel, my Lord;
'Tis an unseason'd courtier, good my Lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best,
That shall attend his love.
Count. Heav'n bless him! Farewel, Bertram.

[Exit Countess. Ber. [To Hel.] The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother your mistress, and make much of her.

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

SCENE II.
Hel. Oh, were that all ! I think not on my fa-

ther;

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 my

Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be

away.
It were

all

one,

and my

That I should love a bright partic'lar 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.
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 see him ëïergiekour ; to fit, 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,

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 lyar; • Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; " Yet these fix'd evils fit fo fit in hiin, " That they take place, when Virtue's steely bones “ Look bleak in the cold wind;? full oft we see Cold * Wifdom waiting on fuperfluous Folly.

S CE N E III.
Par. Save you, fair Queen.
Hel. And you, Monarch.
Par. No.
Hel. And no.
Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Fiet. Ay; you have some ftain t 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 affails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us fome warlike resistance.

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

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and

* Cold for naked ; as superfluous for over-cloth’d.

Stain for colour,

men

blowers up!-Is there no military policy hov virgins might blow

up

? 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 still 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; it is too cold a companion : away with 't.

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 mother ; which is most infallible disobedience. As he that hangs himself, so is a virgin :

Virginity murthers itself, and should be buried in high

ways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offen• dress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much s like a cheese ; consumes itself to the very paring, and • fo dies with feeding its own stomach. Besides, vir• ginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love; • which is the most prohibited fin in the canon. Keep • it not, you cannot chuse but lose by't. Out with’t; • within ten years it will make itself two, which is a

goodly increase, and the principal itself not niuch the • worse. Away with 't.

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

Par. Let me see. Marry, ill, to like him that ne’er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the glofs 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 suted, but unfutable: just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, 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 drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear : it was formerly bet

*;

-?tis pity

ter; marry, yet ’tis a wither'd 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 *
I know not what he shall -God fend him well!
The court's a learning place--and he is, one-

Par. What one, i' faith?
Hel. That I wish well
Par. What's pity?

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

Enter Page.
Page. Monsieur Parolles,
My Lord calls for you.

[Exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewel ; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

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

Par. Under Mars, I.
Hel. I especially think under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars ?

Hel. The wars have kept you so 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 fo ?
Hel, You'go so much backward, when you fight.

and a friend,
A phenix, 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 sweet disaiter; with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious Christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gollips. Now shall he-
I know noi, Gi,

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