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being once loft, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever loft; '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 faid in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mother; which is most infallible difobedience. He that hangs himself is like a virgin virginity murders 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 on its own ftomach. Befides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most prohibited fin 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, fir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me fee. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes, and 'tis a commodity will lofe the glofs with lying. The longer kept, the lefs worth: off with't while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion, richly fuited, but unfuitable; 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 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 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 phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a fovereign,
A counsellor, a traitrefs, and a dear:
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his difcord dulcet,
His faithlefs fweet difafter; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms


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That blinking Cupid goffips. Now fhall he-
I know not what he shall God fend 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 fhut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And fhow what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.

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. Monfieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.
Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I efpecially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have fo 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 fo much backward when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.

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

Par. I am fo full of business, I cannot answer thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the which my inftruction shall serve to naturalize thee, fo thou wilt be capable of courtiers' counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in

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thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel: when thou haft leisure, fay thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and ufe him as he uses thee: fo farewel. [Exit.


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 flow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so 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.
Impoffible be ftrange 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 mifs her love?
The king's disease my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me.

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The Court of France.

Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers Attendants.



A braving war.


HE Florentines and Senois are by th'ears,

Have fought with equal fortune, and continue

1 Lord. So 'tis reported, fir.

King. Nay, 'tis moft credible; we here receive it
A certainty vouch'd from our coufin Austria;
With caution, that the Florentine will move us

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Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. I Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'ft 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 foundness now,
As when thy father and myself in friendship
First try'd our foldiership! he did look far
Into the fervice of the time, and was
Difcipled 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 obferve
To-day in our young lords; but they may jeft,
Till their own fcorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can vie their levity with his honour:


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: fuch a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;

Which, follow'd well, would now demonstrate them
But goers backward.

Ber. His remembrance, fir,

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb:
So in approof lives not his epitaph,

As in your royal fpeech.

King. Would I were with him! He would always fay, (Methinks, I hear him now; his plaufive 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, After my flame lacks oil, to be the fnuff Of younger fpirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whofe conftancies Expire before their fashions. This he wifh'd: I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, I quickly were diffolved from my hive, To give some labourers room.

2 Lord. You're loved, fir; They that least lend it you fhall lack you firft. King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,

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