Lords, attending on the King: Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.
Scene,-Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

SCENE I.

ACT I.

Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's

Palace,

Enter BERTRAM, the Countess of Rousillon,
HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.
Count. In delivering my son from me, I
bury a second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er any father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

sion, and it was his great right to be so: Ge rard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourningly he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laj. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and be queathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind I carries virtuous qualitiest, there commendaLaf. He hath abandoned his physicians, tions go with pity, they are virtues and trai madam; under whose practices he hath per-tors too; in her they are the better for their secuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, that had t! how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work, 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease.

Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam?

Count. He was famous, sir, in his profes

Under his particular care, as my guardian.

simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.

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

Count. '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 liveli hood || from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.

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

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of
The countess recollects her own loss of

a husband and observes how heavily had passes through her mind. Qualities of good

breeding and erudition.

i. e., Her excellencies are the better because they are artless.

All appearance of life.

bes

the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be 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 blest, Bertram; and suc-
ceed thy father

tue,

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and vir
[ness
Contend for empire in thee; and thy good.
Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a
few,

Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy
friend
[silence,
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven
more will,

That thee may furnish, and my prayers
pluck down,

Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,
'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.

Laf.

tram.

He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Ber[Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [To HELENA] be servants to yout! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU.
Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my
father;
[more
And these great tears grace his remembrance
Than those I shed for him. What was he
like?

I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular 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.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a
plague,

To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's tablet; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour :
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES.

- One that goes with him: I love him for his
sake;

And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;

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 blow. ing 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 ra tional 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 it. self ten, 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 gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth; off with't, while 'tis vendible: an

* i. e., That may help thee with more and better qualifications. be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect. ders her heart as the tablet on which his resemblance was portrayed. || Countenance,

of feature.

Forbidden.

ti. e., May you Helena cousi§ Peculiarity

swer the time of request. Virginity, like an vice shall thrust upon thee; else thon diest in old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast brooch and tooth-pick, which wear not now: leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, Your date is better in your pie and your remember thy friends: get thee a good hus porridge, than in your cheek: And your vir-band, and use him as he uses thee: so fare ginity, your old virginity, is like one of our well. 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,
His jarring concord, and his discord duizet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. 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 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 ; 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, 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.

[Exit.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward
pall
[dall.
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are
What power is it, which mounts my love so
high;
[eye?

That makes ine 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,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave
[Exit.

me.

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 n
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

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely: I will return perfect cour-May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. tier; in the which, my instruction shall serve Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of King, I would I had that corporal sounda courtier's counsel, and understand what ad

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. The citizens of the "Inali republic of which Sienna is the capital.

nature for each other,

Things formed by

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 ont 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 nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd thein; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his 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 tonib;
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
Thas 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 fathers of their garments; whose
constancies
[wish'd
Expire before their fashions:-- This he
I, after hin, 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 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 such knaveries yours.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.

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

Cle. 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 rea sons, 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 greaf 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.

His is put for its.

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

To act up to your desires.

To be married.

Approbation.

Children. tt Ploughs. Therefore.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed | first assault, or ransome afterward: This she and calumnious knave?

Since. wish it equally.