All's Well That Ends Well - Noyemi

By William Shakespeare

    himself is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should be
    buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a
desperate
    offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like
a
    cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with
    feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish,
proud,
    idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in
the
    canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out
with't.
    Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly  
    increase; and the principal itself not much the worse. Away
    with'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
time
    of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap
out of
    fashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch
and
    the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in
your
    pie 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 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 w
ell!
    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 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 Man?
  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
    Gi
ves us free scope; only doth backward pull

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By William Shakespeare

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