King. (10) Make thy demand.

Hel. But will you make it even ?

King. Ay, by my fcepter, and my hopes of heaven. 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 must;
(Tho' more to know, could not be more to trust :)
From whence thou cam'ft, how tended on,- but reft
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.

Count.

SCENE changes to Roufillon.

Enter Countess and Clown.

[Exeunt.

NOME on, Sir; I fhall now put you to the

Cheight of your breeding.

Clown. I will fhew my felf highly fed, and lowly taught; I know, my business is but to the court.

(10) King. Make thy Demand.

Hel. But will you make it even ?

King. Ay, by my Scepter and my hopes of help.] The King could have but a very flight Hope of Help from her, scarce enough to fwear by: and therefore Helen might fufpect, he meant to equivocate with her. Befides, obferve, the greatest Part of the Scene is ftrictly 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 Heaven.

Dr. Thirlby.

Count.

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 easily 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 anfwer will ferve 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 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, as Tib's ruth for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuefday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a fcolding 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 fay, an anfwer of such fitness for all questions?

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

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous fize, 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 belongs to't. Ask me, if I am a courtier ;--it fhall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in a question, 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.

Cla. O lord, Sir-thick, thick, fpare not me.

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful; Thou thought'ft to help me, and fuch thanks I give, As one near death to those that wish him live; But what at full I know, thou know'ft no part;

I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try,
Since you fet up your reft 'gainft remedy.
He that of greatest works is finisher,

Oft does them by the weakest minister:

So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown,

When judges have been babes; great floods have flown
From fimple fources; and great feas have dry'd,
When mir'cles have by th' greatest been deny'd.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there

Where most it promises: and oft it hits
Where hope is coldeft, and defpair moft fits.

King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind
Maid;

Thy pains, not us'd, must by thy self be paid:
Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.
Hel. Infpired merit fo by breath is barr'd:
It is not fo with him that all things knows,
As 'tis with us, that fquare our guefs by fhows:
But most it is presumption in us, when

The help of heav'n we count the act of men.
Dear Sir, to my endeavours give consent,
Of heav'n, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an impoftor, that proclaim
My felf against the level of mine aim;

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

King. Art thou fo confident? within what space
Hop'ft thou my cure?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horfes of the fun fhall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moift Hesperus hath quench'd his fleepy lamp:
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glafs
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass;

What

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'ft thou venture?

Hel. Tax of impudence,

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

King. Methinks, in thee fome bleffed Spirit doth fpeak

His powerful found, within an organ weak;
And what impoffibility would flay

In common fenfe, fenfe faves another way.
Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
(9) Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime can happy call;
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monftrous defperate.
Sweet Practifer, thy phyfick I will try;
That minifters 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?

(9) Touth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all, &c.] This Verfe is too hort by a Foot; and apparently fome Diffyllable is drop'd out by Mifchance. Mr. Warburton concurr'd with me in Conjecture to fupply the Verse thus:

Touth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all, &c. Helena had laid a particular Strefs on her maiden Reputation; and the King, afterwards, when he comes to speak of her to Bertram, fays;

If the be

All that is virtuous, (fave, What thou diflik'st,

A poor Physician's Daughter;) thon diflik'st

of Virtue for her name:

King. (10) Make thy demand.

Hel. But will you make it even?

King. Ay, by my fcepter, and my hopes of heaven, 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 state:
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 question thee, and more I must;
(Tho' more to know, could not be more to trust :)
From whence thou cam'ft, how tended on,- but reft
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.
[Exeunt.

Count.

SCENE changes to Roufillon.

Enter Countess and Clown.

NOME on, Sir; I fhall now put you to the

Cheight of your breeding.

Clown. I will fhew my felf highly fed, and lowly taught; I know, my business is but to the court.

(10) King. Make thy Demand.

Hel. But will you make it even ?

King. Ay, by my Scepter and my hopes of help.] 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 ftri&tly in Rhyme: and there is no Shadow of Reason why it fhould be interrupted here. I rather imagine, the Poet wrote;

Ay, by my Scepter, and my Hopes of Heaven.

Dr. Thirlby.

Count.