an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly futed, but unfutable; just like the brooch and the toothpick, which we wear not now: your date is better in your pye 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, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet. That blinking Cupid gossips. The court's a learning place Now shall he Hel. That I wish well-'tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, 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 cha ritable star. Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par Par. Why under Mars? Hel. The wars have kept you so 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. Par. That's for advantage. Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes 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, as 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 courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou hast leifure, say thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewel. [Exit. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, [Exit. SCENE SCENE changes to the Court of France. Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers Attendants. King. T HE Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears; A braving war. tinue 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir. King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it, A certainty vouch'd from our coufin Auftria; I Lord. His love and wisdom, King. He hath arm'd our answer; 2 Lord. It may well serve King. What's he comes here ? Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles. I'Lord. It is the count Roufillon, my good lord, young Bertram. King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face. Ber. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's. : First try'd our foldiership: he did look far Ber. His good remembrance, Sir, As in your royal speech. King. 'Would, I were with him! he would always fay, (3) So like a Courtier, no Contempt or Bitterness Were in his Pride or Sharpness; if they were, His Equal had awak'd them.) This Passage seems so very incorrectly pointed, that the Author's Meaning is sost in the Careletsness. As the Text and Stops are reform'd, these are most beautiful Lines, and the Senfe this" He had no Contempt or Bitterness; if he had any thing that look'd like “ Pride or Sharpness, (of which Qualities Contempt and Bit" terness are the Excesses,) his Equal had awak'd them, not "his Inferior; to whom he fcorn'd to discover any thing that "bore the Shadow of Pride or Sharpness." Mr. Warburton. (Methinks, (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words I, after him, do after him wish too, To give fome labourers room. 2 Lord. You're loved, Sir; They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. *King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count, Since the phyfician at your father's died ? Ber. Some fix months since, my lord. Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon. Count. I Enter Countess, Stervard and Clown. Will now hear; what say you of this gentle woman? 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 defervings, when of ourselves we publish them. Count. What does this knave here? get you gone, Sirrah: |