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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 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 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 speak 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 lose by't: out with't: within ten year 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. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth : off with't, while 't is vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable :

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just like the brooch and the 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 withered pears; it looks ill, it eats drily; 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.
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phœnix, 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.

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. 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 so ?

HEL. You go so much backward, when you fight.

d It was formerly better, marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear:] This is a notable instance of "yet" being used in the sense of now. See note (b), p. 346, Vol. I.

e There shall your master have a thousand loves, -) Some thing is evidently wanting here; this rhapsody having no connexion with what precedes it. Hanmer remedies the defect by making Helena say, "You're for the court;" but the deficiency is more probably in Parolles' speech, where the words "We are for the court" may have been omitted by the compositor.

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PAR. That's for advantage. 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.

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 been cannot be. Who ever strove
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.

[Exit.

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; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, SCENE II. -Paris. A Room in the King's

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

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Palace.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters; Lords and others attending.

KING. The Florentines and Senoys are by the

ears;

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

1 LORD. So 'tis reported, sir,

KING. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive

it

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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,

And Florence is denied 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 sick
For breathing and exploit.
KING.

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 nov

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 woulki
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, —
This his good melancholy oft began,

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,

What's he comes here? When it was out, let me not live, quoth he,

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 tried 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
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 hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier: contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride, or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had 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,

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After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments art
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancia
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.

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A very slight alteration would lessen the ambiguity of this passage. We should, perhaps, read,

"In their poor praise be-humbled."

d When it was out,-] When what was out? The commentators are mute. Does not the whole tenor of the context tend to show that it is a misprint of wit? With this simple change, and supposing the ordinary distribution of the lines to be correct, the purport would be, "Often towards the end of some spiritud disport, when wit was exhausted, he would say," &c.

With several applications:-) Manifold applications.

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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.

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CLO. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.

COUNT. Well, sir.

CLO. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned: but,

if I may have your ladyship's good-will to go to

& To even your content,-] Even is used here, seemingly, as in Act II. Sc. 1:-"But will you make it even?"-in the sense of keep pace with, strike a balance with, equate, &c.

the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.

COUNT. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
CLO. I do beg your good-will in this case.
COUNT. In what case?

Service

CLO. In Isbel's case, and mine own. is no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue o' my body; for, they say, barns are blessings.

COUNT. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

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?

(*) First folio, w.

b To go to the world,-) That is to be married. See note (c) p. 707, Vol. I.

CLO. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

COUNT. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wicked

ness.

CLO. I am out o' 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, in 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, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he, that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he, that loves my flesh and blood, is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage: for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysamb the papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one, they may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

COUNT. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?

CLO. A prophet (3) I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:°

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.

COUNT. Get you gone, sir, I'll talk with you

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& You are shallow, madam, in great friends;) This is usually read, "You are shallow, madam; e'en great friends;" and the instances, both in these plays and in contemporaneous books, of in being misprinted for e'en, suggests the probability of a like error here; but the meaning may be, "You are shallow in the uses of great friends."

b Young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist,-] Malone suggested that the original word was Poisson; an allusion to the practice of eating fish on fast-days, as Charbon might be to the fiery zeal of the puritans.

c The next way:] The nearest way.

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And gave this sentence then; Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten.

COUNT. What, one good in ten? you corrup the song, sirrah.

CLO. One good woman in ten, madam; whic is a purifying o' the song. (4) Would God word. serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fath with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson: on in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good wome born but 'fore* every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 't would mend the lottery well; a man ma draw his heart out, ere 'a pluck one.

COUNT. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do a I command you.

CLO. That man should be at woman's command and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear th surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart.(5)-I am going, forsooth; the business i for Helen to come hither. [Exit Clowz

COUNT. Well, now.

STEW. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

COUNT. 'Faith, I do: her father bequeathe her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much lov as she finds; there is more owing her than is paid and more shall be paid her, than she'll demand.

STEW. Madam, I was very late more near he than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, an did communicate to herself, her own words to he own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, the touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was n goddess, that had put such difference betwixt thei two estates; Love, no god, that would not exten his might, only where qualities were level; Dians nof queen of virgins, that would suffer her por knight surprised, without rescue, in the firs assault, or ransome afterward. This she delivere in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er! heard virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in th

(*) First folio, ore.

As cuckoldes come by destinie,
So cuckowes sing by kinde."

Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,-] This is, perhaps a snatch of some antique ballad, which the fool craftily corrupts to intimate, in the enigmatical manner of his calling, that he w not altogether ignorant of the subject which his mistress and he steward had met to speak about.

f Diana, no queen of virgins,-) The old text has only "Queen of Virgins;" the two words prefixed by Theobald, are probabi as near to the original as can be supplied.

That would suffer her poor knight surprised,-] This is th lection of the old text, and the phraseology of the poet's a Theobald inserted the words to be, reading, - "that would sufe her poor knight to be surprised," and he has been followed b every subsequent editor.

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