Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, andHelena, Lord Lafew, all in blacke.
Mother.N deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second husband.
Ros.And I in going Madam, weep ore my fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore in subiection.
Laf.You shall find of the King a husband Madame, you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack it where there is such abundance.
Mo.What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?
Laf.He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely the loosing of hope by time.
Mo.This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue made nature immortall, and death should haue play for lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing, I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease.
Laf.How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?
Mo.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 latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could be set vp against mortallitie.
Ros.What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes of?
Laf.A Fistula my Lord.
Ros.I heard not of it before.
Laf.I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
Mo.His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries vertuous qualities, there commendations go with pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie, and atcheeues her goodnesse.
Lafew.Your commendations Madam get from her teares.
Mo.'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then to haue———
Hell.I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too.
Laf.Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing.
Mo.If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse makes it soone mortall.
Ros.Maddam I desire your holie wishes.
Laf.How vnderstand we that?
Mo.Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy fatherIn manners as in shape: thy blood and vertueContend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesseShare with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemieRather in power then vse: and keepe thy friendVnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my LordAduise him.
Laf.He cannot want the bestThat shall attend his loue.
Mo.Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram.
Ro.The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghtsbe seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your Mistris, and make much of her.
Laf.Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit of your father.
Hell.O were that all, I thinke not on my father,And these great teares grace his remembrance moreThen those I shed for him. What was he like?I haue forgott him. My imaginationCarries no fauour in't but Bertrams.I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,That I should loue a bright particuler starre,And think to wed it, he is so aboue meIn his bright radience and colaterall light,Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:The hind that would be mated by the LionMust die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plagueTo see him euerie houre to sit and drawHis arched browes, his hawking eie, his curlesIn our hearts table: heart too capeableOf euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancieMust sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?Enter Parrolles.One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,And yet I know him a notorious Liar,Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,That they take place, when Vertues steely bonesLookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we seeCold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie.
Par.Saue you faire Queene.
Hel.And you Monarch.
Par.No.
Hel.And no.
Par.Are you meditating on virginitie?
Hel.I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Letmee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,how may we barracado it against him?
Par.Keepe him out.
Hel.But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-likeresistance.
Par.There is none: Man setting downe before you,will vndermine you, and blow you vp.
Hel.Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminersand blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins might blow vp men?
Par.Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man willquicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downeagaine, with the breach your selues made, you lose yourCitty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth ofNature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, isrationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, tillvirginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost,may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euerlost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't.
Hel.I will stand for't a little, though therefore I diea Virgin.
Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against therule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, isto accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayesout of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like aCheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and sodies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, whichis the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not,you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: withinten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase, and the principall it selfe not much the worse.Away with't.
Hel.How might one do sir, to loose it to her owneliking?
Par.Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne'reit likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying:The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tisvendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie likean olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richlysuted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick,which were not now: your Date is better in yourPye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and yourvirginity, your old virginity, is like one of our Frenchwither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis awither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis awither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?
Hel.Not my virginity yet:There shall your Master haue a thousand loues,A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend,A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare:His humble ambition, proud humility:His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet:His faith, his sweet disaster: with a worldOf pretty fond adoptious christendomesThat blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:I know not what he shall, God send him well,The Courts a learning place, and he is one.
Par.What one ifaith?
Hel.That I wish well, 'tis pitty.
Par.What's pitty?
Hel.That wishing well had not a body in't,Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,Might with effects of them follow our friends,And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuerReturnes vs thankes.
Enter Page.
Pag.Monsieur Parrolles,My Lord cals for you.
Par.Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, Iwill thinke of thee at Court.
Hel.Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder acharitable starre.
Par.Vnder Mars I.
Hel.I especially thinke, vnder Mars.
Par.Why vnder Mars?
Hel.The warres hath so kept you vnder, that youmust needes be borne vnder Mars.
Par.When he was predominant.
Hel.When he was retrograde I thinke rather.
Par.Why thinke you so?
Hel.You go so much backward when you fight.
Par.That's for aduantage.
Hel.So is running away,When feare proposes the safetie:But the composition that your valour and feare makesin you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like theweare well.
Paroll.I am so full of businesses, I cannot answerethee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in thewhich my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, sothou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thoudiest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makesthee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thypraiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends:Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee:So farewell.
Hel.Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skyeGiues vs free scope, onely doth backward pullOur slow designes, when we our selues are dull.What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?The mightiest space in fortune, Nature bringsTo ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.Impossible be strange attempts to thoseThat weigh their paines in sence, and do supposeWhat hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroueTo shew her merit, that did misse her loue?(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,Exit.But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.
Flourish Cornets.Enter the King of France with Letters, anddiuers Attendants.
King.The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,Haue fought with equall fortune, and continueA brauing warre.
1.Lo.G.So tis reported sir.
King.Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will moue vsFor speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friendPreiudicates the businesse, and would seemeTo haue vs make deniall.
1.Lo.G.His loue and wisedomeApprou'd so to your Maiesty, may pleadeFor amplest credence.
King.He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is deni'de before he comes:Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to seeThe Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaueTo stand on either part.
2.Lo.E.It well may serueA nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sickeFor breathing, and exploit.
King.What's he comes heere.
Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.
1.Lor.G.It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,Yong Bertram.
King.Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,Franke Nature rather curious then in hastHath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall partsMaist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris.
Ber.My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties.
Kin.I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendshipFirst tride our souldiership: he did looke farreInto the seruice of the time, and wasDiscipled of the brauest. He lasted long,But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,And wore vs out of act: It much repaires meTo talke of your good father; in his youthHe had the wit, which I can well obserueTo day in our yong Lords: but they may iestTill their owne scorne returne to them vnnotedEre they can hide their leuitie in honour:So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesseWere in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,His equall had awak'd them, and his honourClocke to it selfe, knew the true minute whenException bid him speake: and at this timeHis tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,He vs'd as creatures of another place,And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,Making them proud of his humilitie,In their poore praise he humbled: Such a manMight be a copie to these yonger times;Which followed well, would demonstrate them nowBut goers backward.
Ber.His good remembrance sirLies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,As in your royall speech.
King.Would I were with him he would alwaies say,(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue wordsHe scatter'd not in eares, but grafted themTo grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,This his good melancholly oft beganOn the Catastrophe and heele of pastimeWhen it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffeOf yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue sensesAll but new things disdaine; whose iudgements areMeere fathers of their garments: whose constanciesExpire before their fashions: this he wish'd.I after him, do after him wish too:Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,I quickly were dissolued from my hiueTo giue some Labourers roome.
L.2.E. You'r loued Sir,They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first.
Kin.I fill a place I know't: how long ist CountSince the Physitian at your fathers died?He was much fam'd.
Ber.Some six moneths since my Lord.
Kin.If he were liuing, I would try him yet.Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me outWith seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesseDebate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,My sonne's no deerer.
Ber.Exit.Thanke your Maiesty.
Flourish.Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.
Coun.I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman.
Ste.Maddam the care I haue had to euen your con-tent, I wish might be found in the Kalender of my pastendeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and makefoule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selueswe publish them.
Coun.What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gonesirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all be-leeue, 'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know youlacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enoughto make such knaueries yours.
Clo.'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore fellow.
Coun.Well sir.
Clo.No maddam,'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manieof the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladishipsgood will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and wwill doe as we may.
Coun.Wilt thou needes be a begger?
Clo.I doe beg your good will in this case.
Cou.In what case?
Clo.In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage, and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings.
Cou.Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?
Clo.My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuenon by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuelldriues.
Cou.Is this all your worships reason?
Clo.Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such asthey are.
Cou.May the world know them?
Clo.I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as youand all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie thatI may repent.
Cou.Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse.
Clo.I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to hauefriends for my wiues sake.
Cou.Such friends are thine enemies knaue.
Clo.Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for theknaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues meeleaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's mydrudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher ofmy flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh andblood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my fleshand blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is myfriend: if men could be contented to be what they are,there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon thePuritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere theirhearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd.
Cou.Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious knaue?
Clo.A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth thenext waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men fulltrue shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, yourCuckow sings by kinde.
Cou.Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon.
Stew.May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellencome to you, of her I am to speake.
Cou.Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake withher, Hellen I meane.
Clo.Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,Why the Grecians sacked Troy,Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,With that she sighed as she stood, bisAnd gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one begood, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet onegood in ten.
Cou.What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song sirra.
Clo.One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying ath' song: would God would serue the world soall the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe womanif I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee mighthaue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, aman may draw his heart out ere a plucke one.
Cou.Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command you?
Clo.That man should be at womans command, andyet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yetit will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitieouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going Exit.forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither.
Cou.Well now.
Stew.I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman intirely.
Cou.Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie make title to as much loue as shee findes, there ismore owing her then is paid, and more shall be paidher then sheele demand.
Stew.Madam, I was verie late more neere her thenI thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and didcommunicate to her selfe her owne words to herowne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, theytoucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, sheeloued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse, that had put such difference betwixt their twoestates: Loue no god, that would not extend his mightonelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins, that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'dwithout rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward: This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch ofsorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I heldmy dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence inthe losse that may happen, it concernes you somethingto know it.
Cou.You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe itto your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of thisbefore, which hung so tottring in the ballance, thatI could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie youleaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thankeyou for your honest care: I will speake with you further Exit Steward.anon.
Enter Hellen.
Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorneDoth to our Rose of youth rightlie belongOur bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,It is the show, and seale of natures truth,Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,By our remembrances of daies forgon,Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now.
Hell.What is your pleasure Madam?
Ol.Cou.You know Hellen I am a mother to you.
Hell.Mine honorable Mistris.
Ol.Cou.Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I sed a motherMe thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother,That you start at it? I say I am your mother,And put you in the Catalogue of thoseThat were enwombed mine, 'tis often seeneAdoption striues with nature, and choise breedesA natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy bloodTo say I am thy mother? what's the matter,That this distempered messenger of wet?The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye?——————Why, that you are my daughter?
Hell.That I am not.
Old.Cou.I say I am your Mother.
Hell.Pardon Madam.The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:I am from humble, he from honored name:No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,My Master, my deere Lord he is, and IHis seruant liue, and will his vassall die:He must not be my brother.
Ol.Cou.Nor I your Mother.
Hell.You are my mother Madam, would you wereSo that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,So I were not his sister, cant no other,But I your daughter, he must be my brother.
Old.Cou.Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,God shield you meane it not, daughter and motherSo striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I seeThe mistrie of your louelinesse, and findeYour salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'dAgainst the proclamation of thy passionTo say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekesConfesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eiesSee it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinneAnd hellish obstinacie tye thy tongueThat truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaileTo tell me truelie.
Hell.Good Madam pardon me.
Cou.Do you loue my Sonne?
Hell.Your pardon noble Mistris.
Cou.Loue you my Sonne?
Hell.Doe not you loue him Madam?
Cou.Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bondWhereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:The state of your affection, for your passionsHaue to the full appeach'd.
Hell.Then I confesseHere on my knee, before high heauen and you,That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your Sonne:My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:Be not offended, for it hurts not himThat he is lou'd of me; I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suite,Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,Yet neuer know how that desert should be:I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.I still poure in the waters of my loueAnd lacke not to loose still; thus Indian likeReligious in mine error, I adoreThe Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,Let not your hate incounter with my loue,For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your DianWas both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittieTo her whose state is such, that cannot chooseBut lend and giue where she is sure to loose;That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies.
Cou.Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,To goe to Paris?
Hell.Madam I had.
Cou.Wherefore? tell true.
Hell.I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:You know my Father left me some prescriptionsOf rare and prou'd effects, such as his readingAnd manifest experience, had collectedFor generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd meIn heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,To cure the desperate languishings whereofThe King is render'd lost.
Cou.This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?
Hell.My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,Happily beene absent then.
Cou.But thinke you Hellen,If you should tender your supposed aide,He would receiue it? He and his PhisitionsAre of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they creditA poore vnlearned Virgin, when the SchoolesEmbowel'd of their doctrine, haue left offThe danger to it selfe.
Hell.There's something in'tMore then my Fathers skill, which was the great'stOf his profession, that his good receipt,Shall for my legacie be sanctifiedByth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honorBut giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de ventureThe well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,By such a day, an houre.
Cou.Doo'st thou beleeue't?
Hell.I Madam knowingly.
Cou.Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetingsTo those of mine in Court, Ile staie at homeAnd praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,Exeunt.What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.
N deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second husband.
N deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second husband.