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being once loft, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost; '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 like a virgin : virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways out of all fanctified 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 on its own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most prohibited 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 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,

and ’tis a commodity will lose the glofs 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 the toothpick, which we wear not now : your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in


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, yes, 'tis a wither'd pear: will you any thing with it? Hel

. Not my virginity yet. You're for the court:
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phænix, 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 faithless fweet disaster ; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms
Vol. II.

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your cheek;

we, the

poorer born,

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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
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.

Enter Page.
Page. Monsieur 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. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.
Par. Under Mars, I.

. 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 fo?
Hel. You go so much backward when you fight.
Par. That's for adyantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes safety: but the
composition that your valour and fear make in you, is a virtue of
a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of business, 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 dieft 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: fo farewel.


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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 Now 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 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 not been can't be. Who ever ftrove
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 me.



The Court of France. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and

divers Attendants. King

THE Florentines and Senois are by th'ears,

Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.

i Lord. So 'tis reported, fir.
King. Nay, ’tis most credible; we here receive it
A certainty vouch'd from our cousin Austria;
With caution, that the Florentine will move us



U 1 2

For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

i Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv’d so to your majesty, may plead For ampleft credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is deny'd 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 fick
For breathing, and exploit.
King. What’s he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. i 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, Compos'd thee well : 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 brav'st: 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
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 vie their levity with his honour:


But goers

So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness
Were in him; pride or sharpness if there were, ,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak; and, at that time,
His tongue obey'd his hand : who were below him
He us'd as creatures of a brother-race,
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 now demonstrate them

Ber. His 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,


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
Expire before their fashions. This he wish'd :
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're loved, sir; They that least lend it

shall lack


first. King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is’t, count,


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