From simple sources; and great seas have dried,
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits,

Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits2.

King. I must not hear thee: fare thee well, kind

maid.

Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid:
Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.
Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd.
It is not so with him that all things knows,
As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows;
But most it is presumption in us, when
The help of heaven we count the act of men.
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent;
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an impostor, that proclaim
Myself against the level of mine aim;

But know I think, and think I know most sure,
My art is not past power, nor you past cure.

King. Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure?

Hel.

The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp;
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass,
What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly,
Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,

earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." See also 1 Cor. i. 27.

2

and despair most FITS.] The old copies have shifts, which Pope, for the sake of the rhyme, as well as the sense, altered to sits. Lord Francis Egerton's copy has been corrected to fits, in a hand-writing of about the time; and it seems the true reading. See Shakespeare's Sonnets (cxx.), where "fits," for befits, is made to rhyme with "hits."

What dar'st thou venture?

Hel.

Tax of impudence,

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,
Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name
Sear'd otherwise; ne worse of worst extended3,
With vilest torture let my life be ended.

King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak,

His powerful sound within an organ weak;
And what impossibility would slay

In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate;
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all1

That happiness and prime can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,

That ministers thine own death, if I die.

Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property

Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die;

And well deserv'd. Not helping, death's my fee;
But, if I help, what do you promise me?

3

King. Make thy demand.

Hel.

But will you make it even?

NE worse of worst extended,] The modern editors print no for "ne," which is equivalent to nor: the meaning may be what is expressed by the phrase, "Let the worse come to the worst ;" i. e. let "worse " be "extended" to the "worst."

Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all] Warburton fancied this line imperfect, because it has only eight syllables; but the pauses between these important and weighty words abundantly make up the time, which is more important than the mere syllables. Warburton inserted virtue after "courage ;" not a very happy conjecture, certainly, because the French king, excepting by intuition, could form no opinion of the virtue of Helena. As the Rev. Mr. Barry observes to me, the king could judge of her "youth, beauty, wisdom, and courage," from her appearance and conversation. Malone adopted Warburton's emendation. Mr. Knight, in his "Pictorial Shakspere," follows the true text, and for the

true reason.

5 That happiness and PRIME—] Johnson interprets "prime," youth, the spring of life; which, on all accounts, is preferable to the pride of Tyrwhitt. "Prime" is often used in this sense.

King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven". Hel. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance

To choose from forth the royal blood of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state;
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd:
So make the choice of thy own time; for I,
Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely.

More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know could not be more to trust,
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on; but rest
Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest.-
Give me some help here, ho!-If thou proceed
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS and Clown.

Count. Come on, sir: I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.

Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court.

Count. To the court! why, what place make you

6 and my hopes of HEAVEN.] The old copies have help for "heaven," which last is probably right; Shakespeare having used the somewhat forced expression, “But will you make it even?" for the sake of closing the couplet emphatically with "heaven." All this part of the scene is in rhyme. Thirlby suggested the change.

special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!

Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court. But, for me, I have an answer will serve all

men.

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.

Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger', as a pancake for ShroveTuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to't ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could. I will be a

7

as Tib's RUSH for Tom's fore-finger,] This passage seems to allude to mock-marriages by rush rings. Tib means a woman, and it might therefore be more proper to say, "Tom's rush for Tib's fore-finger," but at this date rings were exchanged. Tom and Tib are often coupled in old writers, as Malone and Steevens have shown by various examples.

fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer.

I

pray you, sir, are you a courtier?

Clo. O Lord, sir!-there's a simple putting offMore, more, a hundred of them.

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves

you.

Clo. O Lord, sir!-Thick, thick, spare not me.

Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely

meat.

Clo. O Lord, sir!-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.
Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
Clo. O Lord, sir!-Spare not me.

66

Count. Do you cry, "O Lord, sir," at your whipping, and "spare not me?" Indeed, your "O Lord, sir," is very sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to’t.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my-"O Lord, sir." I see, things may serve long, but not serve

ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.

Clo. O Lord, sir!-why, there't serves well again. Count. An end, sir: to your business. Give Helen

this,

And urge her to a present answer back:

Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son.

This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them.

Count. Not much employment for you: you understand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally.

8 An end, sir: to your business. Give Helen this,] The punctuation of this passage has usually been, " An end, sir, to your business: give Helen this," but it is clearly wrong. The countess, having just before reproached herself, tells the clown to cease talking, and to attend to the duty she is about to impose upon him. Mr. Knight also prefers this mode of pointing.