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Helena ; go t9, no more; left it be rather thought you

than to have Hel. I do affe&t a forrow, indeed, but I have it too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, exceffive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. (2) If the living be not enemy to the grief, the excess makes it Toon mottal. go yao

Ber: Madam, 1 defire yoar holy wishes. T ..? Laf. How understand we that Count, Be thou bleft, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners as in shape : thy blood and virtue Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnefs i Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a few,

o wrong to none ; be able for thine enemy Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for filence, But never tax'd for speech. What heav'n more will, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! farewel, my Lord; 'Tis an unleason'd courtier, good my Lord, Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best, gi! 23 That shall attend his love.

11093 Count. Heav'n bless him ! Farewel, Bertram.

[Exit Countess. Ber. [To Hel.] The best wishes, that can be forg'd in your thoughts, be servants to you be comfortable to my mother, your Miftress, and make inuch of her.

Laf. Farewel, pretty Lady, you must hold the credit of your father's rods

[Exeunt Ber: and Lafi Hel. Oh, were that all! I thilik not on myifather ; And

tears grace his remembrance more, i Than those i thed for him. What was he like sive o I have forgot him!! My imagination

(2) If tbe liaving be enemy ro rbt grief, tbc'excess makes it Jisr mortal.} This seems very obscure, but the addition of a negative perfectly dispels all the mift. nf. rke living be not enemy, &c. Excessive grief is an enemy to the living,

By says Lefev; Yes, replies. the Counters; and if the living be not enemy to the grief, [1, e. Arive to conquer it,} the excess makes it loon mortal.

Mr. Warburton. A 4

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Carries no favour in it, but my Bertram's.'
I am undone ; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one
That I should love a bright partic'lar star,
And think to wed it; he is fo above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Muft I be comforted, not in his fphere.
Th'ambition in my love thus plagues itfelf;
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague,
To see him every hour; to fit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table : heart, too capabler
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour !
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must fanctify his relicks. Who comes here.

Enter Parolles,
One that goes with him ; I love him for his fake,
And yet I know him a notorious liar;
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils Gt to fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind; full oft we fee
Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly,

Par. Save you, fair Queen.
Hel. And you, Monarch,
Par. No.
Hel. And, no.
Par. Are you meditating on virginity ?

Hel. Ay: you have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a queftion, Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barricado it against him ?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he affails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none: man, setting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and

blowers

blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up meni,

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 cicy. (3) It is not politick in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of yirginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, 'till virginity was first loft. That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once loft, may be ten times found: by being eyer 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 said in't ; 'tis again it the rule of nature. · To {peak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mother; which is most infallible difobedience. He, that hangs himself, is a virgin : visginity murders itself, and fhould be buried in highways out of all fanctified 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 its own ftomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot chuse but lose by't. Out wich't; within ten years it will make itself two, 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 glofs with lying. The longer kept, the less worth off with’t, while 'tis vendible. Answer the time of request. Vir

(3) It is not politick in tbe commonwealth of ra! ure te preferoue virginity Loss of virginity is rational incrcase; and there was never virgin gör, till virginity was firf loft. The context seems to me rather to require-national increase; tho' I have not ventur'd to disturb the text, as th: other reading will admit of a meaning,

ginity,

A S.

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ginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of
fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable; just like the
bosch and the tooth-pick, 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.
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and á miftress, and a friend,
A phoenix, 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 christendoins,
That blinking Cupid goslips. 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 wilh 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 shew what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks,

Enter Page."
Page. Monfiear 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. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a cha. fitable itar.. Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel.

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Hel, I especially think, under Mars.

Par Why under Mars?? Hel. The wars have kept you so under, that you muß needs be born under Mars.

10.i9305 103 Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Par. Why think you fo?

. Hal. You go so much backward, when you fight. Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes fafety: bat 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 the acutely: I will return perfect courtier ; in the which, my instruction Mall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of courtiers counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou dieit in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. When thou hast leisure, fay thy prayers; when thou bał none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use 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 slow 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 mightieft space in fortune nature brings To join like likes ; and kiss, like native things.. Imposible be strange attempts, to those That weigh their pain in fenfe ; and do suppose, What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove. To fhew 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.

SCENE

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