Alls Well That Ends Well | Page 5

and your porridge than in
your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our
French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd
pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you

anything 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 world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,

That 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'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 show
what we alone must think; which never
Returns us thanks.
[Enter a PAGE.]
PAGE.
Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
[Exit PAGE.]
PAROLLES.
Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will

think 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 Mars?
HELENA.
The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be
born under 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
the
composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of
a good wing, and I like the wear well.
PAROLLES.
I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely. I

will return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall serve to
naturalize 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.]
HELENA.
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 sense, and do suppose
What hath
been cannot be: who ever strove
To 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.
[Exit.]
SCENE 2. 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.
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 us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend

Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.
FIRST LORD.
His love and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty,
may plead
For amplest credence.
KING.
He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he
comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service,
freely have they leave
To stand on either part.
SECOND LORD.
It well may serve
A nursery to our gentry, who
are sick
For breathing and exploit.
KING.
What's he comes here?
[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.]
FIRST 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
parts
Mayst 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 friendship
First tried our soldiership! He did look
far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he
lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us

out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father. In his
youth
He had the wit which I can well observe
To-day in our young
lords; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,

Ere they can hide their levity in honour
So like a courtier:
contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,

His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew
the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and at this time
His
tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He us'd as creatures of
another