After some question with him, was converted Duke S. Welcome, young man! That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Play, music;-and you, brides and bridegrooms all, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites You To Oliver to your land,and love, and great allies: You [To Silvius] to a long and well-deserved bed: 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 please them: and so I charge you, O men, 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. Ifl were a woman, 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. I SCENE I. MARIANA, neighbours and friends to the widow. Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, etc. French and Florentine. Servants to the countess of Rousillon. A C T I. Rousillon. A room in the Count'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, it 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 | But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? 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 bequeathed to my overlooking. Thave 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. Enter PAROLLES. One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; 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. resistance! Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant praise in. The remembrance of her father never ap-in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike proaches 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. 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 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. father In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue, Laf. He cannot want the best, That shall attend his love. Count. 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 hold the credit I have forgot him: my imagination 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 staud 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 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."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 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 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. There shall your master have a thousand loves, 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; The court's a learning-place; Hel. That I wish well. - "Tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Enter a Page. Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a cha- Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par. Why under Mars? For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, King. He hath arm'd our answer, 2 Lord. It may well serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick King. What's he comes here? Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I, think, rather. Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. 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; 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! [Exit. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, SCENE II.-Paris. Aroom in the King's palace. 1 Lord, So 'tis reported, sir. 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 But on us both did haggish age steal on, Ber. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb; As in your royal speech. King.'Would I were with him! He would always say, 2 Lord. You are loved, sir; They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. Ber. Some six months since, my lord. King. If he were living, I would try him yet ; Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out With several applications! — nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer. Ber. Thank your majesty. SCENE III. [Exeunt. Flourish. - 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 the 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. Count.Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you: of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo.Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, [Singing. Was this king Priam's joy. And gave this sentence then ; Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah! Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o'the song. 'Would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman born but every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one. Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you? Clo. No, madam,'tis not so well that I am poor, though Clo.That man should be at woman's command, and yet many of the rich are damn'd: but if I may have your no hurt done! - Though honesty be no puritan, yet it ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel the wo-will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility man and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case. Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service is no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for, they say, bearns 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? over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit Clown. Count. Well now. Stew.I know,madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love 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 her than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any as they are. Count. May the world know them? 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 wickedness. 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, 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 youngCharbon, the puritan,and old Poysam, the papist,howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion their heads are both one, they may joll horns together, like any deer i't he herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave? stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in which I held my duty, speedily to acquaint you withal;sithence,in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. Enter HELENA. [Exit Steward. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young: If we are nature's, these are ours: this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind. By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults;-or then we thought them none. I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, Count. I say, I am your mother. The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: Count. Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'would you were Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? If it be not, fors wear't: howe'er, I charge thee, Hel. Good madam, pardon me! Count. Do you love my son? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! Count. Love you my son? Hel. Do not you love him, madam? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose Hel. Then, I confess, I still pour in the waters of my love, The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, Hel. Madam, I had. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me Count. This was your motive Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven:and, would your honour Count. Dost thou believe't? Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and love, And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt. АСТ II. SCENE I-Paris. A room in the King's palace. King.Farewell, young lords, these warlike principles 1 Lord. It is our hope, sir, |