Hel. Oh, were that all!-I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more, Than thofe I fhed for him, What was he like? I have forgot him. My imagination 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 fhould 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 sphere. Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself; The hind, that would be mated by the lion, Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague, To fee him every hour; to fit 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 fweet favour! But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Muft fanctify his relicks. Who comes here? 2 Enter Parolles. One that goes with him: I love him for his fake, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak in the cold wind; full oft we fee SCENE III. Par. Save you, fair Queen. Hel. And you, Monarch. Par. No. Hel. And, no. Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. Ay you have fome ftain of foldier in you let me afk you a question. Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barricado it against him? Par. Keep him out. Hel. But he affails; and our virginity, tho' valiant, in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us fome warlike refiftance. Par. There is none: man, fitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up. Hel. Blefs our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourfelves made, you lofe your city. It is not politick in the commonwealth of nature, to preferve virginity. Lofs of virginity is rational increafe; 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 ever kept, it is ever lost; 'tis too cold a companion: away with't. 3 Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly.] Cold for naked; as fuperftu us for over-cloath'd. This makes the propriety of the Antithefis. WARBURTON. 4 Stain of foldier.] Stain for colour. Parolles was in red, as appears from his being afterwards called red-tail'd humble bee. WARBURTON. Hel. Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. Par. There's little can be faid in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mother; which is moft infallible difobedience. 'He, that hangs himself, is a virgin virginity murders itfelf, and fhould be buried in highways out of all fanctified limit, as a defperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; confumes itself to the very paring, and fo dies with feeding its own ftomach. Belides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of felf-love, which is the moft prohibited fin in the canon. Keep it not, you cannot chufe but lose by't. Out with't; within ten years it will make itself two, which is a goodly increafe, 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 fee. "Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lofe the glofs with He, that hangs himself, is a Virgin: But why is he that hangs himself a Virgin? Surely, not for the reafon that follows. Virginity murders itflf. For tho' every Virgin be a Suicide, yet every Suicide is not a Virgin. A word or two are dropt, which introduced a comparison in this place; and Shakespeare wrote it thus, As he, that hangs himself, so is a Virgin. And then it follows naturally, Virginity murders itself. By this emendation, the Oxford Editor was enabled to alter the text thus, He that bangs himself is like a lying. The longer kept, the lefs worth off with't, while 'tis vendible. Anfwer the time of requeft. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion richly futed, but unfutable; just like the brooch and the tooth-pike, 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 dryly; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear: it was formerly better; marry, yes, 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it? 7 Hel. Not my virginity yet. There fhall your maiter have a thousand loves, ? For yet, as it ftood before, Sir T. Hanmer reads yes. Not my virginity yet.] This whole fpeech is abrupt, unconnected and obfcure. Dr. Warburton thinks much of it fuppofititious. I would be too glad to think fo of the whole, for a commentator naturally wishes to reject what he cannot understand. Something which should connect Helena's words with those of Parolles, feems to be wanting. Hanmer has made a fair attempt by reading. Not my virginity yet-You're for the court, There fhall your master, &c. Some fuch clause has, I think, dropped out, but fill the firft words want connection. Perhaps Parolles, going away after his harangue, faid, will you any thing with me? to which Helen may reply. I know not what to do with the paffage. A Phanix, Captain, &c.] The eight lines following friend, 2 I am perfuaded, is the nonfenfe of fome foolish conceited player. What put it into his head was Helen's faying, as it should be read for the future, There hall your Mafter have a thousand loves: A Mother, and a Mistress, and a Friend. I know not, what he shall God fend him well. Where the Fellow finding a thoufand loves fpoken of, and only three reckoned up, namely, a Mother's, a Mijires's, and a Friend's (which, by the way, were all a judicious Writer could mention; for there are but these three fpecies of love in Nature) he would help out the number, by the intermediate nonfense: and, because they were yet too few, he pieces out his loves with enmities, and makes of the whole fuch finished nonefenfe as is never heard out of Bedlam. WARBURTON. A guide, A guide, a goddefs, and a fovereign, Hel. That I with well-'tis pity- Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't, Might with effects of them follow our friends: And fhew what we alone must think, which never Returns us thanks. Enter Page. Page. Monfieur 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. Monfieur Parolles, you were born under a tharitable ftar. Par. Under Mars, I. Hel. I efpecially think, under Mars. Par. Why under Mars? Hel. The wars have kept you fo under, that you muft needs be born under Mars. Par. When he was predominant. Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. tor, but fuch traytors his majefy a traitress,] It feems that traitress was in that age a term of endearment, for when Lafeu introduces Helena to the king, he fays You look like a tray-ties what we now must only think. ' And show what we alone must think] And Shew by reali Hel. |