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But know I think, and think I know most fure,
My Art is not paft power, nor you paft Cure.
King. Art thou fo confident? within what space
Hop'st thou my Cure?

Hel. The Greatest Grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the Sun fhall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moist Hefperus hath quench'd his fleepy lamp;
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass
Hath told the thievith minutes how they pafs;
What is infirm from your found parts fhall fly,
Health fhall live free, and fickness freely die.
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'it thou venture?

Hel. Tax of impudence,

A ftrumpet's boldness, a divulged fhame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maiden's name
Sear'd otherwife, no worse of worst extended;
With vileft torture let my life be ended.

King. Methinks, in thee fome bleffed Spirit doth speak
His powerful found, within an organ weak;
And what impoffibility would flay

In common fenfe, fente faves another way.
Thy life is dear, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
(13) Youth, beauty, wifdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime can happy call;
Thou this to hazard, needs muft intimate
Skill infinite, or monftrous defperate.

(13) Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all &c.] This Verfe is too short by a Foot; and apparently fome Dillyllable is drop'd out by Mifchance. Mr. Warburton concurr'd with me in Conjecture to supply the Verfe thus:

Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all &c.

Helena had laid a particular Strefs on her maiden Reputation; and the King, afterwards, when he comes to fpeak of her to Bertram, fays;

If the be

All that is virtuous, (fave, What thou diflik',
A poor Phyfician's Daughter ;) theu diflik't
Of Virtue for her name:


Sweet Practifer, thy phyfick 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 deferv'd! Not helping, death's my fee;
But if I help, what do you promise me?
King. (14) Make thy Demand.

Hel. But will you make it even?

King. Ay, by my Scepter, and my hopes of Heav'n. Hel. Then fhalt thou give me, with thy kingly hand, What Husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance

To chufe from forth the royal blood of France
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy ftate:
But fuch a one thy vaffal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

King. Here is my hand, the premises obferv'd,
Thy will by my performance fhall be ferv'd:
So, make the choice of thine own time; for I,
Thy refolv'd Patient, on thee ftill rely.
More fhould I queftion thee, and more I muft;
(Tho' more to know, could not be more to trust:)
From whence thou cam'ft, how tended on,
Unqueftion'd welcome, and undoubted bleft.
Give me fome help here, hoa! if thou proceed
As high as word, my deed fhall match thy deed.

(14) King. Make thy Demand.

Hel. But will you make it even?

King. Ay, by my Scepter and my hopes of help.]

but reft


The King could have but a very flight Hope of Help from her, fcarce enough to fwear by: and therefore Helen might fufpect, he meant to equivocate with her. Befides, obferve, the greatest Part of the Scene is strictly in Rhyme and there is no Shadow of Reason why it should be interrupted here. I rather imagine, the Poet wrote;


Ay, by my Scepter, and my Hopes of Heav'n.

Dr. Thirlby.





SCENE changes to Roufillon.

Enter Countefs, and Clown.

COME on, Sir; I fhall now put you to the height of your Breeding.

Clown, I will fhew my felf highly fed, and lowly taught, I know, my bufinefs is but to the Court. Count. But to the Court? why, what place make you fpecial, when you put off that with fuch contempt? but to the Court!

Clo. Truly, Madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may eafily put it off at Court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kifs his hand, and fay nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, fuch a fellow, to fay precifely, were not for the Court: but for me, I have an answer will ferve all


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 ferve fit to all questions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffaty punk, ās 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 queàn 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 fay, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Conftable, it will fit any queftion.

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

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the Learned fhould fpeak truth of it: here it is, and all that be


longs to't. Ask me, if I am a Courtier ; do you no harm to learn.

it fhall

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in a queftion, hoping to be the wifer by your answer. I pray you, Sir, are you a Courtier?

Clo. O lord, Sir

there's a fimple putting off: more, more, a hundred of them.

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

Clo. O lord, Sir- thick, thick, fpare not me. Count. I think, Sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.

Clo. O lord, Sirnay, put me to't, I warrant


Count. You were lately whip'd, Sir, as I think.
Clo. O lord, Sir- fpare not me.

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 anfwer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. Clo. I ne'er had worfe luck in my life, in my lord, Sir; I fee, things may ferve long, but not ferve


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Count. I play the noble hufwife with the time, to entertain it fo merrily with a fool.

Clo. O lord, Sir- why, there't ferves well again. Gount. An end, Sir; to your bufinefs: give Helen this,

And urge her to a prefent Answer back.

Commend me to my kinfmen, and my son :

This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them?

Count. Not much imployment for you, you understand me.

Clo. Moft fruitfully, I am there before my legs.
Count. Hafte you again.


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SCENE changes to the Court of France.

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

Laf. (15) THEY fay, miracles are paft; and we have our philofophical perfons to make modern, and familiar, Things fupernatural and caufelefs. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; enfconfing our felves into feeming knowledge, when we fhould fubmit our felves to an unknown fear.

Par. Why, 'tis the rareft argument of wonder that hath fhot out in our later times.

Ber. And fo 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquifh'd of the Artists

Par. So I fay, both of Galen and Paracelfus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentick Fellows

Par. Right, fo I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,

Par. Why, there 'tis, fo fay I too.

Laf. Not to be help'd,

Par. Right, as 'twere a man afsur'd of an
Laf. Uncertain life, and fure death,

Par. Juft, you fay well: fo would I have faid. Laf. I may truly fay, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed, if you will have it in fhewing, you fhall read it in, what do you call there

Laf. A fhewing of a heav'nly effect in an earthly


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Par. That's it, I would have said the very fame. Laf. (16) Why, your dolphin is not luftier: for me, I speak in respect.


(15) They fay Miracles are paft, and we have our Philofophical Perfons to make modern and familiar things fupernatural and caufelefs.] This, as it has hitherto been pointed, is directly oppofite to our Poet's, and his Speaker's, Meaning. As I have stop'd it, the Senfe quadrates with the Context: and, furely, it is one unalterable Property of Philofophy, to make feeming ftrange and preternatural Phenomena familiar, and reducible to Cause and Reafon.

(16) Why, your Dolphin is not luftier:] I have thought it very probable, that, as 'tis a French Man speaks, and as 'tis the French King he is fpeaking

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