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King. I would, I had; fo I had broke thy pate,
but, my good Lord, 'tis
Will you be cur'd of your infirmity?
Laf. O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox?
My royal fox could reach them: (8) I have seen a Med'cin,
That's able to breathe life into a stone;
Quicken a rock, and make you dance Canary
With sprightly fire and motion; whose fimple touch
To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand,
King. What her is this?
Laf. Why, doctor-fhe: my Lord, there's one arriv'd,
If you will fee her. Now, by my faith and honour, If ferioufly I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one, that in her fex, her years, profeffion, Wisdom and conftancy, hath amaz'd me more : will fee her, weakness: you Than I dare blame my For that is her Demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me.
King. Now, good Lafeu,
Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,
And not be all day neither.
King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
(8) I have seen a Medecine,] Lafeu does not mean that he has feen a Remedy, but a Person bringing such Remedy. I therefore imagine, our Author used the French Word, Medecin, i. e. a Phyfician; this agrees with what he subjoins immediately in Reply to the King,
write to her a Love-line.
Laf. [Returns.] Nay, come your ways.
King. This hafte hath wings, indeed.
King. Now, fair One, do's your business follow us?
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
Hel. The rather will I fpare my praise towards him;
Safer than mine own two: more dear I have fo;
King. We thank you, maiden;
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,
King. I muft not hear thee; fare thee well, kind
Thy pains, not us'd, muft by thy felf be paid:
Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
What is infirm from your found parts fhall fly,
Hel. Tax of impudence,
King. Methinks, in thee fome bleffed Spirit doth speak
His powerful found, within an organ weak;
In common fense, sense faves another way.
Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property
(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't,
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 shall be serv'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 truft :) 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.
SCENE changes to Roufillon.
Enter Countess and Clown.
COME 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 suspect, he meant to equivocate with her. Befides, obferve, the greateft Part of the Scene is ftrictly 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.