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Helena; go to, no more; left it be rather thought you affect a forrow,

Hel. I do affect a forrow, indeed, but I have it too. .

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excelive enemy to the living Count. (2) If the living be not enemy to the grief,

griet the the excess makes it soon mortal: o gal gayon

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. ..) Laf. How understand we that!

Count, Be thou bleft, Bertram, and succeed thy father In

manners as in lape: thiy blood and virtue Contend for Empire in thee, and thy good nefs Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a few, Do

o wrong to none ; be able for thine enemyr
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 unseafond courtier, good my Lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best, 21
That shall attend his love.
Count. Heav'n bless him ! Farewel, Bertram.

[Exit Countesso · Ber. (To Hel.] The best wishes, that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be servants to yo

you : be comfortable to my mother, your Mistress, and make much of her. Laf. Farewel,

pretry Lady; you must hold the credit of youpit


pofittoalb Hel. Oh, were that all! I think not on my father ;

- 19 [Exeunt Ber: and Lafi And these areat tears


ce his remembrance more,! Than thofe i thed for him. What was he likes oig I have forgot him. My imagination

21: 99, VOR

bach : (2) If the living be enemy to the grief, the exetess makes it. flor mortal.] This seems very obscure ; but the addition of a negative perfee?ly dispiels all she mist

. If the living, be not knewyo &c. Excesive grief is an enemy to the living, says Lofer: Xese replies

. the Countess; excess makes it soon mortal. e not enemy to the grief, [i, e. Itrive to conquerit, s

Mr. Warburton.


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Carries no favour in it, but my Bertram's.
I am undone ; there is no living, none,
If Ber?ram be away. It were all one
That I fould love a bright partic'lar star,
And think to wed it; he is so above me : *194194;
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Muft I be comforted, not in his fphere.
Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itfelf;
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Muft die for love. "Twas pretty, tho' a plague,
To see him every hour; 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, and my idolatrous fancy
Muit fanctify his relicks. Who comes here:

Enter Parolles,
One that goes with him; I love him for his fake,
And yet I know him a notorious liar;
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils Gt fo fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind; full.oft we fee
Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly,

Par. Save you, fair Queen.
Hel. And you, Monarch.
Par. No.
Hel. And, no.
Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay: you have some ftain 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 some :: 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


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blowers op!-Is there no military policy, haw virgios might blow up meni.

Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quick lier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. (3) It is not politick in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, 'till virginity was first loft. 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 loft; 'tis 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. He, that hangs himself, is a virgin : visginity murders itfelf, and fhould 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 its own ftomach. Besides, virginity is peevith, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot chase but lose by't. Out wicht; within ten years it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much 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 of with’t, while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of requeft. Vire (3) It is not politick in tbe commonwealtb of rature to preferue virginity Loss of virginity is rational incrase; and there was never virgin gol, till virginity was fort loft The context seems to me rather to requite-national increase; tho' I have not ventur'd to disturb the text, as th: other reading will admit of a meaning,


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ginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable; just like the b.osch 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 better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it ?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.
There thall

your matter have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a miftress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a Sovereign,
A counfellor, 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 chriftendoins,
That blinking Cupid goslips. Now shall he
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 wilh well—'tis pity
Par. What's pity ?

Hel. That withing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt; that we the poorer born,
Whose baler ftars do fhut 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. Monfiear Parelles,
My Lord calls for you.

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

Hel. Morisieur Parolles, you were born under a cha. Titable itar. Par. Under Mars, I.


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Hel, I especially think, under Mars,
Par. Why under Mars?
Hel. The wars have kept you so under, that you
muk needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant,
Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Par. Why think you so?

291 SAN Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes safety: bat 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, as 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 courtiers counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou dieit in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away ; farewel. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee : lo farewel.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heav'n. The fated sky
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our flow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my love fo high,
That makes me fee, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightief space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes ; and kiss, like native things.
Impoffible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pain in fenfe ; and do suppose,
What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove.
To fhew 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.



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