Par.

Save you, fair Queen.

Hel.

And you, Monarch.

Par.

No.

Hel.

And no.—

Par.

Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel.

Ay: you have some ^{8 note}stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity, how may we barricado it against him?

Par.

Keep him out.

Hel.

But he assails; and our virginity, tho' valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par.

There is none: man, setting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel.

Bless 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 yourselves made, you lose

your city. It is not politick 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.

Hel.

I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par.

There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mother; which is most infallible disobedience. As ^{9 note}

Hel.

How might one do, Sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par.

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 suted, but unsutable; just like the brooch and the toothpick, 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 drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear: it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you any thing with it?

Hel.
Not my virginity yet.
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
^{1 note}

I know not, what he shall—God send him well!—
The court's a learning place—and he is one—

Par.
What one, i'faith?

Hel.
That I wish well—'tis pity—

Par.
What's pity?

Hel.
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 shew what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks. Enter Page.

Page.
Monsieur 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.

Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

Par.

Under Mars, I.

Hel.

I especially think, under Mars:

Par.

Why under Mars?

Hel.

The wars have kept you so under, that you must needs be born under Mars.

Par.

When he was predominant.

Hel.

When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

Par.

Why think you so?

Hel.

You go so much backward, when you fight.

Par.

That's for advantage.

Hel.

So is running away, when fear proposes safety: but the composition, that your valour and fear makes in you, ^{2 note}is a virtue of a good ming, and I like the wear well.

Par.

I am so full of businesses, as 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 courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away; farewel. 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 farewel.