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Hathwell compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First try'd our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour'.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness: if they were,
His equal had awak'd thein; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at that time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place2;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled': Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times:
Which follow'd well, would demonstrate them
But goers backward.
[now,

Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much fam'd.

Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet;-
5 Lend me an arm;—the rest have worn me out
With several applications:-nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's no dearer.

10

15

Ber. Thank your majesty. [Flourish.Exeunt.
SCENE III.

A Room in the Count's Palace.
Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown'.
Count. I will now hear: what say you of this
gentlewoman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content', I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our 20 modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness, that 25 I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours".

Ber. His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb ;30
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech".

King. Would, I were with him! He would al

ways say,

(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words 35
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them
To grow there, and to bear)-Let me not live,-
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and Ireel of pastime,
When it was out, let me not live, quoth he,
After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Merefathers oftheir garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions—This he wished: 45
I, after him, do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourer room.

2 Lord. You are lov'd, sir;

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know 't-How long is't, count,

Clo. "Tis not unknown to you, madam, that I Jam a poor fellow.

Count. Well, sir.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor, though many of the rich are damn'd: But, if I may have your Ladyship's good-will to go to the world', Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.

Čount. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service 40 is no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue of my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings.

50

[ry.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marClo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason? Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

3

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That is, cover petty faults with great merit. i. e. he made allowances for their conduct, and bore from them what he would not from one of his own rank. i. e. by condescending to stoop to his inferiors, he exalted them and made them proud; and, in the gracious receiving their poor praise, he humbled even his humility. Approof is approbation. Mr. Tollet explains this passage thus: His epitaph or inscription on his tomb is not so much in approbation or commendation of him, as is your royal speech." A Clown in Shakspeare is commonly taken for a licensed jester, or domestick fool. We are not to wonder that we find this character often in his plays, since fools were, at that time, maintained in all great families, to keep up merriment in the house. i. e. to equal your desires. i. e. You are fool enough to commit those irregularities you are charged with, and yet not so much fool neither, as to discredit the accusation by any defect in your ability. i. e. to be married. See note', p. 128.

Count.

Count.Thymarriage, sooner thanthywickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Well, now.

Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman intirely.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.] Clo. You are shallow, madam, in great friends; 5 for the knaves come to do that for me, which I} am aweary of. He that ears' my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If 1 be his cukold, he's my drudge: He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood, is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wifel is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage15dess, that had put such difference betwixt their for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one, they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and more shall be paid her, than she'll demand.

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her 10than, I think, she wish'd me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she lov'd your son: Fortune, she said, was no god

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and 20 calumnious knave?

Clo. A prophet', I, madam: and I speak the truth the next' way.

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.
Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you

more anon.

25

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid 30
Helen come to you; of her I am to speak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would
speak with her: Helen I mean. [Singing.
Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond" done, done fond,

Was this king Priam's joy.
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.
Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt
the song, sirrah.

two estates: Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward: This she deliver❜d in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedi ly to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that mayhappen,it concerns you something to know it.

Count. You have discharg'd this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt: Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward.

Enter Helena.
Count. Even so it was with me, when I was
young:

35 If we are nature's, these are ours: this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
It is the shew and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is imprest in youth:
40 By our remembrances of days foregone, [none.
Such were our faults, O! then we thought them
Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Count. You know, Helen,

45I am a mother to you.

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: 'Would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the parson: One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good wo-50 man born but every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well; a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one.

Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you?

Hel. Mine honourable mistress.

Count. Nay, a mother;

Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent: What's in mother,
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often seen,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds:

55 You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care:-
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood,
To say, I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why?that you are my daughter?

Clo. That man should be at a woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it wi wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart.-I am going, forsooth: the bu-60 siness is for Helen to come hither. [Exit.

2

To ear is to plough. It is a superstition, which hath run through all ages and people, that natural fools have something in them of divinity; on which account they were esteemed sacred. i. e. the nearest way. Fond here means foolishly done. i. e. according to our recollection.

Hel.

Hel. That I am not.

Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, madam;

The count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and wilt his vassal die :
He must not be my brother,

ter-in-law;

Religious in mine error, I adore

Dian

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
5 For loving where you do: but, if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your
Was both herself and love; O then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot chuse
But 1-nd and give, where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find that, her search implies,
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak
15 To go to Paris?
[truly,

[were 10

Count. Nor I your mother?
Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'Would you
(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother)
Indeed, my mother!or were you both our mo-
I care no more for, than i do for heaven, [thers,
So I were not his sister: Can't no other
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daugh-
Emother,
God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and
So strive upon your pulse: What, pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head'. Now to all sense 'tis gross,
You love my son; invention is asham`d,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say, thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so:-for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it one to the other; and thine eyes
See it so grossly shewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it; only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected: Speak, is't so
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Hel. Good madam, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my son?
Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress!
Count. Love you my son?

He. Do not you love him, madam?

Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disThe state of your affection; for your passions[close Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel, Then I confess,

Here on my knee, before high heav'n and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,

I love your son :

Myfriends were poor, but honest; so's my love:
Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit;
Nor would I have him, 'till I do deserve him;
Yet never know how that d. sert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet, in this captious 3 and intenible sieve,
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,

Hel. Madamı, I had.

Count. Wherefore? tell true.

Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.
You know, my father left me some prescriptions
20Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were
More than they were in note': amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approv'd, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings, whereof
The king is render'd lost.

25

Count. This was your motive

30 For Paris, was it? speak.

35

[this;

Hel. My lord your son made me to think of Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, Haply, been absent then.

Count. But think you, Helen,

If you should tender your supposed aid,
He would receive it?. He and his physicians
Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,
They that they cannot help: How shall they cre
40 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, [dit
Embowell'd of their doctrine', have left off
The danger to itself?

45

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By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure,
50 By such a day and hour.

[and love,

Count. Dost thou believe't?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.
Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave,
Means and attendants, and my loving greetings
55 To those of mine in court; I'll stay at home,
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
[Exeunt,

I care no more for, is, I care as much for-I wish it equally. i. e. the source of your grief.

'Dr. Johnson suspects we should read curious, i. e. rotten. greater virtues were inclosed than appeared to observation.

Meaning, prescriptions in which i. e. exhausted of their skill.

ACT

SCENE I.

The Court of France.

ACT II.

Enter the King, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles.

Flourish Cornets.

King. FAREWEL, young lords, these warlike principles

Do not throw from you:-and you, my lords,
farewel:-

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received,
And is enough for both.

2 Lord. 'Tis our hope, sir,
After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess, he owes the malady

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20

That does my life besiege. Farewel, young lords;
Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy
(Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall
Of the last monarchy) see, that you come
Not to woo, honour, but to wed it; when
The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, 25
That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewel.

2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your
majesty!

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them;
They say, our French lack language to deny,
they demand: beware of being captives,
Before you serve.

Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewel.-Come hither to me.

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Luf. Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.
King. I'll fee thee to stand up.

Luf. Then here's a man

Stands, that has bought his pardon. I would, you
Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and
That, at my bidding, you could so stand up.

King. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, 30 And ask'd thee mercy for't.

[The King retires to a couch. 35 1 Lord. Oh my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

Pur. 'Tis not his fault! the spark▬▬▬▬▬

2 Lord. Oh, 'tis brave wars!

Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars. 40 Ber. Iam commanded here, and kept a coil with Too young, and the next year, and'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.

Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 45 Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, "Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with! By heaven, Pil steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Pur. Commit it, count.

2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewel. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body.

1 Lord. Farewel, captain.

2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles!
Pur. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin.]
Good sparks and lustrous, a word, goodmetals:-
You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one

3

Lef. Goodfaith, across:-but my good lord, Will you be cur'd of your infirmity? ['tis thus; King, No.

Laf. O, will you eat

No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will,
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox

Could reach them: I have seen a medicine
That's able to breath life into a stone:
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple
Is powerful to arise king Pepin, nay, [touch
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line.
King, What her is this?

Laf. Why, doctor she: my lord, there's one
arriv'd,

If you will see her-now, by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may convey my thoughts
In this my light deliverance, I have spoke

50 With one, that in her sex, her years, profession,
Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you see her,
(For that is her demand) and know her busi-
That done, laugh well at me.

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King. Now, good Lafeu,

[ness?

Bring in the admiration; that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine,
By wond'ring how thou took'st it.

The epithet higher is here to be understood as referring to situation rather than to dignity.

This word, as has been before observed, is used when any pass of wit miscarries.

Laf

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither.

[Exit Lafen King. Thus he his special nothing ever proLaf. [returns.] Nay, come your ways. [logues. [Bringing in Helenu King. This haste hath wings indeed. Laf. Nay, come your ways; This is his majesty, say your mind to him: A traitor you do look like; but such traitors His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Ex. King. Now, fair one,does your business follow us? Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was My father; in what he did profess, well found. King. I knew him.

5

10

[him; 15

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises toward Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, He bade me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear! I have so: And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness.

King. We thank you, maiden;
But may not be so credulous of cure,-
When our most learned doctors leave us; and
The congregated college have concluded,
That labouring art can never answer nature
From her inaidable estate,-I say we must not
So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malady
To empiricks; or to dissever so
Our great self and our credit, to esteem

A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.
Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains:
I will no more enforce mine office on you;
Humbly intreating from your royal thoughts
A modest one, to hear me back again.

[ful:

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateThou thought'st to help me: andsuchthanks give, As one near death to those that wish him live: But what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst 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

20

[From simple sources; and great seas have dry'd
When miracles have by the Greatest been deny'd.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest,and despairmost sits. [maid;
King, Imust not hear thee; fare thee well, kind
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 1;

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;
25 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,
30 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'st thou venture?

Hel. Tax of impudence,

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, 35 Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise: no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended 2.

40

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

His powerful sound, within an organ weak 3:
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;
45 Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime 4, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physick I will try;
50That 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 ine?

1 That is, "I am not an impostor that proclaim one thing and design another." 2 Mr. Steevens thus happily explains this obscure passage: "I would bear (says she) the tax of impudence, which is the denotement of a strumpet; would endure a shame resulting from my failure in what I have undertaken, and thence become the subject of odious ballads; let my maiden reputation be otherwise branded; and, no worse of worst extended, i. e. provided nothing worse is offered to me, (meaning violation) let my life be ended with the worst of tortures. The poet for the sake of rhime has obscured the sense of the passage. The worst that can befal a woman being extended to me, seems to be the meaning of the last line." The author of the Revisal of Shakspeare's Text explains this line thus: "The verb doth speak, in the first line, should be understood to be repeated in the construction of the second, thus; His powerful sound speaks within a weak organ.” 4 i, e. youth.

King.

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