And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty To offer war, where they should kneel for peace; Come, come, you froward and unable worms! [Kate. Pet. Why, there's a wench -Come on, and kiss me, We three are married, but you two are sped. [TO LUCENTIO. And, being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATH. Hor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a curst shrew. Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed [Exeunt ACT I SCENE I.- ROUSILLON. A Room in the COUNTESS'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 very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? Laf. A fistula, my lord. 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. I have 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. Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches 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. 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. [Erit COUNTERS. Ber. [To HELENA.] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts 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 [Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. of your father. Hel. 0, were that all! I think not on my father; That I should love a bright particular star, Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table; heart too capable 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 virglas might blow up men? Par. Virginity being blown down, man will qu'ckler 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 there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. 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. Hd. I will stand 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 dio. bedience. 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 peev...h, 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 tooth-pick, 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 There shall your master have a thousand loves, I know not what he shall:-God send him well!- Hel. That I wish weil.-'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 shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And shew what we alone must think; which never Returns us thanks. Par. Under Mars, I Hel. I especially think, under Mars. Par. Why under Mais? Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retro rade, I think, rather. Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. Hel. So is running away, when four 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 naturalise 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, Which we ascribe to heaven: 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 see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in schse; and do suppose What hath been cannot be: who ever strove To shew 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. [Erit SCENE II.-PARIS. A Room in the KING'S Palace. Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters; Lords and others attending. King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war. 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir. King, Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, Approved so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. King. He hath arm'd our answer, Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see 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. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. In their poor prais› he humbled. Such a man Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now Ber. His good remembrance, Sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; As in your roval speech. King. Would I were with him! He would always say, (Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words Ile scatter'd not in cars, but grafted them, To grow there, and to bear.)-"Let me not live,"- Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my live, To give some labourers room. 2 Lord. You are 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 physician at your father's died? He was much famed. 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 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. Clo. No, Madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have your ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel, the woman, and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case. Count. In what 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? Clo Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such 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, in great fricuds; 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 young Charbou 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' the herd Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clo. A prophet I, Madam; and I speak the truth the next way: "For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; 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 tithewoman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth 'a! an we might have a good woman born but for 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. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no puran, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart.-I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither, Count. Well, now. [Exit Clown. 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; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any 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. [Exit Steward. Enter HELENA. 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, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: Such were our faults;-or then we thought them none. Hel. What is your pleasure, Madam? Count. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. Why not a mother? When I said a mother, That were enwombed mine. 'Tis often seen, You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Hel. That I am not. Count I say, I am your mother. The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; Count. Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, Madam: would you were, (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) Indeed my mother!--or were you both our mothers, I care no more for, than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister: can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law; God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, So strive upon your pulse: what, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross, That truth should be suspected; speak, is 't so? Hel. Good Madam, pardon me! Count. Do you love my son? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! Count. Love you my son? Hd. 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, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, My friends were poor, but honest; so's 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. You know, my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me To cure the desperate languishes, whereof Count. This was your motive For Paris, was it? speak. Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, Haply, been absent then. Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, By such a day, and hour. Count. Dost thou believe't? Hel. Ay. Madam, knowingly. Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings [love, To those of mine in court; I'll stay at home, And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-PARIS. A Room in the KING'S Palace. Flourish. Enter KING, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike principles Do not throw from you:-And you, my lord, farewell. -Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received, And is enough for both. 1 Lord. It is our hope, Sir, After well-enter'd soldiers, to return King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. [The KING retires to a couch. 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark 2 Lord. 0, 'tis brave wars! Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a col with,-"Too young," and "the next year," and "tis too early.” Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so, farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured hody. 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 2 Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles! Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals:-You shall find in the regiment of the Spini), one captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. Par. Mars dote on you for his novices-[Exeunt Lords.] What will you do? Ber. Stay; the king [Seeing him rise. Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restra ned yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lend the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. (For that is her demand,) and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. King. Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration; that we with thes May spend our wonder too, or take off thine, By wond'ring how thou took'st it. Lay. Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [Brit LAFEU King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA. Laf. Nay, come your ways. King. This haste hath wings indeed. This is his majesty, say your mind to him: [Erit King. I knew him. He. The rather will I spare my praises towards him; King. We thank you, maiden; Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Hel. What I can do can do no hurt to try, Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barrd: I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think, and think I know most sure, Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp |