Laf. He hath abandon'd his phyficians, Madam, under whofe practices he hath perfecuted 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, (O, that bad! how fad a prefage 'tis !), whofe skill was almoft as great as his honefty; had it ftretch'd fo far, it would have made nature immortal, and death fhould 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 profeffion, and it was his great right to be fo: Gerard de Narbon. Laf. He was excellent, indeed, Madam; the King very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: he was fkilful enough to have liv'd still, if knowledge could be fet up against mortality. Ber. What is it, my good Lord, the King languishes of? Laf. A fiftula, 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 fole child, my Lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have thofe hopes of her good, that her education promifes her: difpofition 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 fimplenefs; fhe derives her honefty, and atchieves her goodness. Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her tears. Count. 'Tis the beft brine a maiden can feafon her praife in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her forrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, By virtuous qualities here are not meant thofe of a moral kind, but fuch 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. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, exceffive grief the enemy to the living. Count. If the living be not enemy to the grief, the excefs makes it foon mortal. Ber. Madam, I defire your holy wishes. Laf. How understand we that? Count. Be thou blefs'd, Bertram, and fucceed, thy father In manners as in fhape! thy blood and virtue 'Tis an unfeafon'd courtier, good my Lord, Laf. He cannot want the beft, That fhall attend his love. Count. Heav'n blefs him! Farewel, Bertram. [Exit Countess. Ber. [To Hel.] The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be fervants 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. Hel. Oh, were that all!- -I think not on my fa ther; And these great tears grace his remembrance more I have forgot him. My imagination That I fhould love a bright partic'lar ftar, Enter Parolles. One that goes with him: I love him for his fake, "That they take place, when Virtue's fteely bones "Look bleak in the cold wind;" full oft we fee Cold Wifdom waiting on fuperfluous Folly. SCENE Par. Save you, fair Queen. Hel. And you, Monarch. Par. No. Hel. And no. III. Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. Ay; you have fome ftain † of foldier in you; let me afk you a queftion. 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 warlike refiftance. us fome Par. There is none: man, fetting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Blefs our poor virginity from underminers and *Cold for naked; as fuperfluous for over-cloth'd. Stain for colour. 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 yourfelves made, you lofe your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preferve virginity. Lofs of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, til 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 ftand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. Par. There's little can be faid in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accufe your mother; which is most infallible disobedience. As he that hangs himself, fo is a virgin : • Virginity murthers itself, and should be buried in highways out of all fanctified limit, as a defperate offendrefs against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; confumes itself to the very paring, and fo dies with feeding its own ftomach. Befides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of felf-love; which is the most prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot chufe 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 much the • worse. Away with 't. Hel. How might one do, Sir, to lose it to her own liking? Par. Let me fee. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lofe the glofs with lying. The longer kept, the lefs worth; off with 't while 'tis vendible. Anfwer the time of requeft. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly futed, 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 ter; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet. There fhall your mafter have a thoufand loves, A mother, and a mistress, and a friend *; I know not what he fhall -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? '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. Moufieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable ftar. Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I efpecially 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. Par. Why think you so? Hel. You go fo much backward, when you fight. and a friend, A phoenix, captain, and an enemy; |