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.That you were made of is metal to make virgins.Virginityby being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, itis ever lost.'Tis too cold a companion; away with't.HELENA.I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die avirgin.PAROLLES.There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the ruleof nature.To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse yourmothers; which is most infallible disobedience.He that hangshimself is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should beburied in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperateoffendress against nature.Virginity breeds mites, much like acheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies withfeeding his own stomach.Besides, virginity is peevish, proud,idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in thecanon.Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't.Out with't.Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodlyincrease; and the principal itself not much the worse.Awaywith't.HELENA.How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?PAROLLES.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 timeof request.Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out offashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch andthe toothpick, which wear not now.Your date is better in yourpie and your porridge than in your cheek.And your virginity,your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears: itlooks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it wasformerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear.Will youanything with it?HELENA.Not my virginity yet.There shall your master have a thousand loves,A mother, and a mistress, 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 worldOf pretty, fond, adoptious christendomsThat blinking Cupid gossips.Now shall he-I know not what he shall.God send him well!The court's a learning-place, and he is one-PAROLLES.What one, i' faith?HELENA.That I wish well.'Tis pity-PAROLLES.What's pity?HELENA.That wishing well had not a body in'tWhich might be felt; that we, the poorer born,Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,Might with effects of them follow our friendsAnd show what we alone must think, which neverReturns us thanks.Enter PAGEPAGE.Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.Exit PAGEPAROLLES.Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I willthink of thee at court.HELENA.Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.PAROLLES.Under Mars, I.HELENA.I especially think, under Mars.PAROLLES.Why under Man?HELENA.The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be bornunder Mars.PAROLLES.When he was predominant.HELENA.When he was retrograde, I think, rather.PAROLLES.Why think you so?HELENA.You go so much backward when you fight.PAROLLES.That's for advantage.HELENA.So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but thecomposition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue ofa good wing, and I like the wear well.PAROLLES.I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely.Iwill return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shallserve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier'scounsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; elsethou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makesthee away.Farewell.When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers;when thou hast none, remember thy friends.Get thee a goodhusband and use him as he uses thee.So, farewell.ExitHELENA.Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,Which we ascribe to heaven.The fated skyGives us free scope; only doth backward pullOur 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 bringsTo join like likes, and kiss like native things.Impossible be strange attempts to thoseThat weigh their pains in sense, and do supposeWhat hath been cannot be.Who ever stroveTo show 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.ExitACT I.SCENE 2.Paris.The KING'S palaceFlourish of cornets.Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters,and divers ATTENDANTSKING.The Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears;Have fought with equal fortune, and continueA braving war.FIRST LORD.So 'tis reported, sir.KING.Nay, 'tis most credible.We here receive it,A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will move usFor speedy aid; wherein our dearest friendPrejudicates the business, and would seemTo have us make denial.FIRST LORD.His love and wisdom,Approv'd so to your Majesty, may pleadFor amplest credence.KING.He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is denied before he comes;Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to seeThe Tuscan service, freely have they leaveTo stand on either part.SECOND LORD.It well may serveA nursery to our gentry, who are sickFor breathing and exploit.KING.What's he comes here?Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLESFIRST 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 compos'd thee.Thy father's moral partsMayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.BERTRAM.My thanks and duty are your Majesty's.KING.I would I had that corporal soundness now,As when thy father and myself in friendshipFirst tried our soldiership.He did look farInto the service of the time, and wasDiscipled of the bravest.He lasted long;But on us both did haggish age steal on,And wore us out of act.It much repairs meTo talk of your good father.In his youthHe had the wit which I can well observeTo-day in our young lords; but they may jestTill their own scorn return to them unnotedEre they can hide their levity in honour.So like a courtier, contempt nor bitternessWere in his pride or sharpness; if they were,His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,Clock to itself, knew the true minute whenException bid him speak, and at this timeHis tongue obey'd his hand
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