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Par. Nay, 'tis ftrange, 'tis very ftrange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a moft facinerious fpirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the Laf. Very hand of Heav'n,

Par. Ay, fo I fay.

Laf. In a moft weak

Par. And debile minifter, great power, great tranfcendence; which fhould, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone the recov'ry of the King; as to


Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter King, Helena, and attendants.

Par. I would have said it, you faid well: here comes the King.

Laf. Luftick, as the Dutchman fays: I'll like a Maid the better, while I have a tooth in my head: why, he's able to lead her a Corranto.

Par. Mort du Vinaigre, is not this Helen?

Laf. 'Fore God, I think fo.

King. Go, call before me all the Lords in Court.

Sit, my Preferver, by thy Patient's fide;

And with this healthful hand, whofe banish'd fense
Thou haft repeal'd, a fecond time receive

The confirmation of my promis'd gift;
Which but attends thy naming.

speaking of, the Poet might have wrote,

Why, your Dauphin is not luftier:

i. e. the King is as hale and hearty as the Prince his Son. And that the King in this Play is supposed to have a Son, is plain from what he fays to Bertram in the first Act.

Wellcome, Count,

My Son's no dearer.

Befides, Dauphin in the old Impreffions is conftantly fpelt as the Fifh, Dolphin. But then confidering on the other hand, As found as a Roach, As whole as a Fifh, are proverbial Expreffions: and confidering too that our Author elsewhere makes the Dolphin an Instance or Emblem of Luftihood and Activity,

bis Delights

Were Dolphin-like, they fhew'd his Back above
The Element they liv'd in,

Anto. and Cleop. I have not thought proper to disturb the Text. Nor would, indeed, the Senfe of the Paffage be affected by any Alteration.

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Enter three or four Lords.

Fair Maid, fend forth thine eye; this youthful parcel Of noble batchelors ftand at my bestowing,

O'er whom both fov'reign power and Father's voice
I have to use; thy frank election make;

Thou haft power to chufe, and they none to forfake.
Hel. To each of you, one fair and virtuous Mistress
Fall, when love please! marry, to each but one.
Laf. I'd give bay curtal and his furniture,

My mouth no more were broken than these boys,
And writ as little beard.

King. Perufe them well:

Not one of those, but had a noble Father.

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[She addreffes her felf to a Lord. Hel. Gentlemen, Heaven hath, through me, reftor'd The King to health.

All. We understand it, and thank Heav'n for you. Hel. I am a fimple Maid, and therein wealthieft, That, I proteft, I fimply am a Maid.

Please it your Majefty, I have done already :
The Blushes in my cheeks thus whifper me,

"We bluth that thou fhould'ft chufe, but be refus'd;
"Let the white death fit on thy cheek for ever,
"We'll ne'er come there again.

King. Make Choice, and fee,

Who fhuns thy love, fhuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy Altar do I fly,
And to imperial Love, that God moft high,
Do my fighs ftream: Sir, will

1 Lord. And grant it.
Hel. (17) Thanks, Sir;

you hear my fuit?

all the reft is mute.


(17) Thanks, Sir; all the reft are mute.] All the reft are mute? She had spoke to but One yet. This is a nonfenfical Alteration of Mr. Pope's from the old Copies, in which, I doubt not, but he thought him felf very wife and fagacious. The genuine Reading is, as I have reftor'd in the Text;

fi. e. as in Hamlet,

All the reft is mute.

The reft is Silence) and the Meaning, this. Helena finding a favourable Aníwer from the first Gallant fhe addrefs'd to,


Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw Ames-ace for my life.

Hel. The honour, Sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I fpeak, too threatningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that fo wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please.

Hel. My wifh receive,

Which great Love grant! and fo I take my leave.

Laf. Do all they deny her? if they were Sons of mine, I'd have them whip'd, or I would fend them to the Turk to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand fhould take,
I'll never do you wrong for your own fake:
Bleffing upon your vows, and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. Thefe boys are boys of ice, they'll none of her: fure, they are baftards to the English, the French ne'er got 'em.

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make your felf a Son out of my blood.

4 Lord. (18) Fair one, I think not so.

Laf. There's one grape yet,

Par. I am fure, thy Father drunk Wine.Laf. But if Thou be'eft not an Afs, I am a Youth of fourteen. I have known thee already. Hel. I dare not fay, I take you; but I give

Me and my service, ever whilst I live,

but not defigning to fix her Choice there, civilly fays, I thank you, Sir; That is All I have to advance. I am oblig'd to You for your Complyance; but my Eye and Heart have another Aim.

(18) 4 Lord. Fair One, I think not so.

Laf. There's one Grape yet, I am fure my Father drunk Wine; but if Thou be'eft not an Ass, I am a Youth of fourteen: I have known thee already.] Surely, This is moft incongruent Stuff. Lafeu is angry with the other Noblemen, for giving Helena the Repulfe: and is He angry too, and thinks the fourth Nobleman an Afs, because he's for embracing the Match? The Whole, certainly, can't be the Speech of one Mouth. As I have divided the Speech, I think, Clearnefs and Humour are reftor'd. And if Parolles were not a little pert and impertinent here to Lafeu, why should he fay, he had found him out already? Or, why fhould he quarrel with him in the very next Scene?

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Into your guiding power: this is the Man.

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[To Bertram.

King. Why then, young Bertram, take her; fhe's thy Wife.

Ber. My Wife, my Liege? I fhall befeech your Highnefs,

In fuch a bufinefs give me leave to use

The help of mine own eyes.

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram,

What the hath done for me?

Ber. Yes, my good Lord,

But never hope to know why I fhould marry


King. Thou know'ft, fhe has rais'd me from my fickly bed.

Ber. But follows it, my Lord, to bring me down Muft answer for your raifing? I know her well: She had her Breeding at my Father's Charge: A poor Phyfician's Daughter my Wife! -Difdain Rather corrupt me ever!

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King. 'Tis only title thou difdain'ft in her, the which
I can build up: ftrange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound diftinction, yet ftand off
In differences, fo mighty. If the be

All that is virtuous, (fave what thou diflik'ft,
A poor Phyfician's Daughter,) thou diflik'ft
Of Virtue for the name: but do not fo.

(19) From lowest Place when virtuous things proceed, The Place is dignify'd by th' doer's deed.

Where great Addition fwells, and Virtue none,
It is a dropfied honour; good alone,
Is good without a name. Vilenefs is fo:
The property by what it is fhould go,
Not by the Title. She is young, wife, fair,
In these, to Nature fhe's immediate Heir;

(19) From loweft Place, whence virtuous Things proceed,

The Place is dignified by th' Doers Deed] 'Tis ftrange, that None of the Editors could perceive, that both the Sentiment and Grammar are defective here. The eafy Correction, which I have given, was prescribed to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby.


And these breed honour: That is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges it felf as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. (20) Honours best thrive,

When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the meer Word's a flave
Debaucht on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy; (21) and as oft is dumb,
Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed. What should be faid?
If thou can'ft like this Creature as a Maid,

I can create the reft: virtue and she,

Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will ftrive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'ft thy felf, if thou should'st strive
to chufe.

Hel. That you are well reftor'd, my Lord, I'm glad: Let the reft go.

King. (22) My honour's at the stake; which to defend, I must produce my Power. Here, take her hand,

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When rather from our Acts we them derive

Than our Foregoers.] How nearly does this Sentiment of our Author's resemble the following Paffage of Juvenal!


Ergò ut miremur Te, non tua, primùm aliquid da
Quod poffim titulis incidere, præter Honores
Quos illis damus, & dedimus, quibus omnia debes.

and as oft is dumb,

Where Duft and damn'd Oblivion is the Tomb.

Sat. VIII. ver. 68.

Of honour'd Bones, indeed, what should be faid?] This is fuck pretty Stuff, indeed, as is only worthy of its accurate Editors! The Tranfpofition of an innocent Stop, or two, is a Task above their Diligence: especially, if common Senfe is to be the Refult of it. The Regulation, I have given, muft ftrike every Reader fo at first Glance, that it needs not a Word in Confirmation.

(22) My Honour's at the Stake; which to defeat

I muft produce my Pow'r.] The poor King of France is again made a Man of Gotham, by our unmerciful Editors: What they make him fay, is mere mock-reafoning. The Paffage muft either be reftor'd, as I have conjecturally corrected; or else the King must be fuppos'd to break off abruptly from What he was going to fay, and determine that he will interpofe his Authority. As thus ;

My Honour's at the Stake; which to defeat,-
I must produce my Pow'r.


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