King. We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure,- To empiricks; or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem, King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Oft does them by the weakest minister : So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources; and great seas have dried, Where most it promises; and oft it hits, Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid: 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; King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, Hel. Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame 25,- King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth His powerful sound, within an organ weak: And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. 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? King. Make thy demand. Hel. But will you make it even? 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: King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, More should I question thee, and more I must; SCENE II. [Flourish. Exeunt, 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 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 27, 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. |