« AnteriorContinuar »
Cout. He was t. 1: 133, sir, in his profession, and it was luis igit sa 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 mortality.
Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?
Laf. A fistula, my lord.
Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed 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 carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their 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 sea. son 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, 1 desire your boly wishes.
Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed 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
wrong ti none: be able for thine enemy k her n 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 pluek
down, Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord, 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise bim.
Laf. He cannot want the best That shall attend his love, Corent. Heaven bless him !-Farewell, Bertram.
[Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts [To HELENA), be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.
Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hoid the credit of your father.
[Exeunt BERTRAM and LaFeU. Hel. 0, were that all !-I think not on my father;
(more And these great tears grace his remembrance Than those I shed for bim. 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 bé 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 bis 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 table; heart, too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour : Bat now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relicks. Who comes bere?
Enter PAROLLES. One that goes witb 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. 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 somne 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, bow virgins might blow up men?
Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing bim 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 rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you were made of, is metal to make vir gins. 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 there fore 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 bimself 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 feed.
ing 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 itself ten, wbich 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, in, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer képt, 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 toothpick, 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 wither'd pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; 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 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 faith, his sweet disaster: with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall heI know not what he shall:God send bin
well!The court's a learning-place:-and he is one
Par. What one, i'faith? Hel. That I wish well.—Tis pityPar. 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 Returns us thanks.
(never Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
(Exit Page, Par, Little Helen, farewell; 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.
Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars.
Par. When he was predominant.
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 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 a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else 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.
Erit. 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 To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts, to those That weigh their pains in sense; and do sup