Complete William Shakespeare Collection (eBook)

ACT I. SCENE 1. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE

Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black

COUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second

husband.

BERTRAM. 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.

LAFEU. 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.

COUNTESS. What hope is there of his Majesty’s amendment?

LAFEU. He hath abandon’d 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.

COUNTESS. This young gentlewoman had a father- O, that ‘had,’

how

sad a passage ‘tis!-whose skill was almost as great as his

honesty; had it stretch’d 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.

LAFEU. How call’d you the man you speak of, madam?

COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his

great right to be so- Gerard de Narbon.

LAFEU. He was excellent indeed, madam; the King very lately

spoke

of him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to

have

liv’d still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

BERTRAM. What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of?

LAFEU. A fistula, my lord.

BERTRAM. I heard not of it before.

LAFEU. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the

daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

COUNTESS. 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 makes 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.

LAFEU. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

COUNTESS. ‘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-

HELENA. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

LAFEU. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead: excessive

grief the enemy to the living.

COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes

it

soon mortal.

BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.

LAFEU. How understand we that?

COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father

In manners, as in shape! Thy blood and virtue

Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness

Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,

Do 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 silence,

But never tax’d for speech. What heaven more will,

That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,

Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord,

‘Tis an unseason’d courtier; good my lord,

Advise him.

LAFEU. He cannot want the best

That shall attend his love.

COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. Exit

BERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forg’d in your thoughts be

servants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother,

your

mistress, and make much of her.

LAFEU. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of your

father. Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU

HELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father;

And these great tears grace his remembrance more

Than those I shed for him. What was he like?

I have forgot him; my imagination

Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.

I am undone; there is no living, none,

If Bertram be away. ‘Twere all one

That I should love a bright particular star

And think to wed it, he is so above me.

In his bright radiance and collateral light

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.

Th’ ambition in my love thus plagues itself:

The hind that would be mated by the lion

Must die for love. ‘Twas pretty, though a plague,

To see him every hour; to sit and draw

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,

In our heart’s table-heart too capable

Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.

But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy

Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?

Enter PAROLLES

[Aside] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake;

And yet I know him a notorious liar,

Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;

Yet these fix’d evils sit so fit in him

That they take place when virtue’s steely bones

Looks bleak i’ th’ cold wind; withal, full oft we see

Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen!

HELENA. And you, monarch!

PAROLLES. No.

HELENA. And no.

PAROLLES. Are you meditating on virginity?

HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask

you a

question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it

against him?

PAROLLES. Keep him out.

HELENA. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in

the

defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.

PAROLLES. There is none. Man, setting down before you, will

undermine you and blow you up.

HELENA. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and

blowers-up!

Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?

PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier 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’t.

HELENA. I will stand for ‘t a little, though...