it was formerly better, marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There fhall your mafter have a thousand loves,
a A mother, and a miftrefs, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddefs, and a foveraign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humbleft ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord; and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his fweet difafter; with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious christendoms
That blinking Cupid goffips.
I know not what he hall.
The court's a learning place.
Par. What one, i'faith?
Hel. That I wish well

Now fhall he

God fend him well
and he is one

'tis pity

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Which might be felt, that we the poorer born, Whofe bafer ftars do fhut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And Thew what we alone must think, which never Returns us thanks.

Enter Page

Page. Monfieur Parolles,

My lord calls for you.

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 ftar.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I efpecially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The b wars have kept you so under, that you muft needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think rather.

Par. Why think you fo?

Hel.

Hel. You go fo much backward when you fight. Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear propofes fafety: but the compofition that your valour and fear makes 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 fhall ferve to naturalize thee, fo thou wilt be capable of courtiers counsel, and underftand what advice fhall thruft upon thee; elfe thou dieft in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou haft leifure, fay thy prayers; when thou haft none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: fo farewel.

[Exit

Hel. Our remedies oft in our felves do lie,'
Which we afcribe to heav'n. The fated sky
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
Our flow defigns, when we our felves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love fo high,
That makes me fee, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightieft fpace in fortune, nature brings
To join like likes, and kifs like native things.
Impoffible be ftrange attempts to those
That weigh their pain in fenfe, and do fuppofe
What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove
To fhew 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. [Ex. e inftrument,

SCENE

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

HE Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears,

King-T Have fought with equal fortune, and con

A braving war.

tinue

Lord. So tis reported, Sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it, A certainty vouch'd from our coufin Auftria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us For fpeedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the bufinefs, and would feem To have us make denial.

I Lord. His love and wisdom, Approv'd fo to your majefty, may plead For ample credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer,

And Florence is deny'd before he comes:
Yet for our gentlemen that mean to fee
The Tufcan fervice, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

2 Lord. It may well ferve

A nursery to our gentry, who are fick
For breathing and exploit.

King, What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu and Parolles,

1 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 hafte, Compos'd thee well. Thy father's moral parts

May'

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 my felf in friendship
Firft try'd our foldierfhip: he did look far
Into the fervice of the time, and was
Difcipled of the brav'ft. He lafted 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 hide their levity in honour:
So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness
Were in his pride, or fharpnefs; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them, and his honour
d Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him fpeak; and at that 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,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled: such a man
Might be a copy to thefe younger times;

which follow'd well, would now demonftrate them

But goers backward.

Ber. His remembrance, Sir,

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 fcatter'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,
VOL. III.

E

After

d block

After my flame lacks oil, to be the fnuff
Of younger fpirits, whofe apprehensive fenfes
All but new things difdain; whofe judgments are
Meer fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fafhions: this he wish'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 fome labourers room.

2 Lord. You're loved, Sir;

They that leaft lend it

you, fhall lack you firft.

King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, Count, Since the phyfician at your father's died?

He was much fam'd.

Ber. Some fix months fince, my Lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet;
Lend me an arm; the reft have worn me out
With feveral applications; nature and sickness
Debate it at their leifure. Welcome, Count,
My fon's no dearer.

Ber. Thanks to your majefty.

[Exeunt.

Count.

SCENE VI.

ROUSILLON.

Enter Countefs, Steward and Clown.

I Will now hear, what fay you of this gentle

woman?

my

Stew, Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calender of r paft endeavours; for then we wound our modefty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of our felves we publifh them.

Count. What does this knave here? get you gone, firrah: the complaints I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my flowness that I do not, for I know

cout

you