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Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
SONG.

Wedding is great Juno's crown;

O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured;
Honour, high honour and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town!

Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me;

Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;

Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

[To Silvius.

Enter JAQUES DE BOIS. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word, or two;

I am the second son of old sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:-
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ;
Where, meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor❜d to them again,
That were with him exil'd: This to be true,
I do engage my life.
Duke S.
Welcome, young man;
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding:
To one, his lands with-held; and to the other,
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.

First, in this forest, let us do those ends,
That here were well begun, and well begot:
And after, every of this happy number,
That have endur'd shrewd days and nights
with us,

Shall share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity,
And fall into our rustick revelry:

Play, musick; and you brides and bridegrooms all,

With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. Jaq. Sir, by your patience; if I heard you rightly,

The duke hath put on a religious life,

And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He bath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.— You to your former honour I bequeath;

[To Duke S. Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it;

You [To Orlando] to a love, that your true faith doth merit :

You [To Oliver] to your land, and love, and great allies:

You [To Silvius] to a long and well deserved bed;

And you [To Touchstone] to wrangling; for thy loving voyage

Is but for two months victual'd-So to your pleasures;

I am for other than for dancing measures.
Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaq. To see no pastime, I-what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.

[Exit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, And we do trust they'll end in true delights. [A dance.

EPILOGUE.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the

love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as plcase them: and so I charge you, O inen, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell.

[Exeunt.

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Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c. French and Florentine.

Scene,-partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

SCENE I.

ACT THE FIRST.

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 my 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?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted 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! 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, 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 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 lived still, if knowledge could be set up against morality.

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

Laf. 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- | Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. queathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: of her good, that her education promises: her The hind, that would be mated by the lion, dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virplague, tuous qualities, there commendations go with To see him every hour; to sit and draw pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, they are the better for their simpleness; she de- In our heart's table; heart, too capable rives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy her tears. Must sanctify his relicks. Who comes hère? Enter PAROLLES.

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 livelihood 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 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 succeed
thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness 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 Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, 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.

tram.

Luf He cannot want the best, That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bor[Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [To Helena] be sorvants to you! 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;

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 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

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;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous 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 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 politick in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was firt 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 spoak 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

loose by't: Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a good 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?

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 it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

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; clse 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

There shall your master have a thousand loves, To join like likes, and kiss like native things.

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 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,
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 show what we alone must think; which

never

Returns us thanks.

you.

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for [Exit Page. Pur. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will think of thec 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?

Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense; and do sup-

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So 'tis reported sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here re-
ceive it

A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.
1 Lord.
His love and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.
King.
He hath arm'd our answer,

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that And Florence is denied before he comes:

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.

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 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. King. I would I had that corporal soundness

now,

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 out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
Ile 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 bad awak'd them; 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 him
He us'd as creatures of another place;
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 them

now

But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; So in approof lives not his epitaph,

As in your royal speech.

King, 'Would, I were with him! He would
always say,

(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 live,-
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
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 senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies

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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 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.

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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 crea-

Expire before their fashions:- -This he wish'd:ture, as you and all flesh and blood are; and,

I, after him, 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 lov'd, sir; They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long is't,

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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 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,

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