Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly fuited, but unsuitable; just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which we 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 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 fhall your mafter have a thousand loves, That blinking Cupid goffips. Now fhall he-] Hel. That I wish well-'tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Enter Page. Page. Monfieur 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. Hel. Monfieur 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 fo under, that you muft needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Hel. You go fo much backward, when you fight. Hel. So is running away, when fear propofes fafety: but the compofition, that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good ming, and I like the wear well. Par. I am fo full of busineffes, as I cannot answer thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the which, my inftruction fhall ferve to naturalize thee, fo thou wilt be capable of courtier's counsel, and understand what advice fhall thruft upon thee; elfe thou dieft in thine unthankfulnefs, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou haft leisure, fay thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he ufes thee: fo farewel. [Exit. SCENE IV. Hel. UR remedies oft in ourselves do lie, fky Gives us free fcope; only, doth backward pull 15 What What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove SCENE V. Changes to the Court of France. [Exit. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers Attendants. King. TH HE Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war. 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir. King. Nay, 'tis moft credible; we here receive it. A certainty vouch'd from our coufin Auftria; With caution, that the Florentine will move us For fpeedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the bufinefs, and would feem To have us make denial. I Lord. His love and wisdom, King. He hath arm'd our answer; 2 Lord. It may well ferve A nursery to our gentry, who are fick King. What's he comes here; Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles. 1 Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, young Bertram. King. Youth, thou bear'ft thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in hafte, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts May'ft thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's. Difcipled of the brav'ft. He lafted long; fteal on, And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks; In their poor praife, he humbled: Such a man Which, follow'd well, would now demonstrate them Ber. His good remembrance, Sir, Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; As in your royal speech. [say, King. 'Would, I were with him! he would always (Methinks, I here him now; his plaufive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them To grow there, and to bear;) Let me not live, 16 Thus (Thus his good melancholy oft began, Of younger fpirits, whofe apprehenfive fenfes (Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,) 2 Lord. You're loved, Sir; They, that least lend it you, fhall lack you first. He was much fam'd. Ber. Some fix months fince, my lord. King. If he were living, I would try him yet ;Lend me an arm;-the reft have worn me out With feveral applications; nature and fickness Debate it at their leifure. Welcome, count, My fon's no dearer. Ber. Thank your Majefty. [Flourish. Exeunt. Count. I SCENE VI. Changes to the Countess's at Roufillon. Enter Countefs, Steward and Clown. Will now hear; what fay 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 modefty, and make foul the clearness of our defervings, when of ourfelves we publish them. Count. |