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1 Lord. Farewel, Captain.

2 Lord. Sweet Monfieur Parolles!

Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin; good sparks and lustrous. A word, good metals. (7) You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his finister cheek; it was this very sword entrench'd it; say to him, I live, and observe his reports of me.

1 Lord. We shall, noble captain.

Par. Mars doat on you for his novices! what will

ye do?

Ber. Stay; the King

[Exeunt Lords.

Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble Lords, you have restrain'd your self within the lift of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there, do muster true gate, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most receiv'd star; and tho' the devil lead the meafure, fuch are to be follow'd: after them, and take a more dilated farewel.

Ber. And I will do fo.

Par. Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.

Enter the King, and Lafeu.

[Exeunt.

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

Laf. Then here's a man stands, that hath 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.

(7) You shall find in the Regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, his Cicatrice, with an Emblem of War here on his finister Cheek;] It is surprizing, none of the Editors could see that a flight Transposition was absolutely necessary here, when there is not common Sense in the Passage, as it stands without such Tranfposition. Parolles only means, "You shall find one Captain

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Spurio in the Camp with a Scar on his left Cheek, a Mark

of War that my Sword gave him."

VOL. III.

B

King

1

King. I would, I had; so I had broke thy pate,

And ask'd thee mercy for't.

Laf. Goodfaith, across:

thus;

but, my good Lord, 'tis

Will you be cur'd of your infirmity ?

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: (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 simple touch
Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay,

To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand,
And write to her a love-line.

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why, doctor-she: my Lord, there's one ar

riv'd,

If you will fee her. Now, by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may convey my thoughts
In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
With one, that in her fex, 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 business?

That done, laugh well at me.

King. Now, good Lafeu,

Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine,

By wond'ring how thou took'ft it.

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,

And not be all day neither.

[Exit Lafeu.

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

(8) I have seen a Medecine,) Lafen does not mean that he has seen a Remedy, but a Person bringing fuch Remedy. I therefore imagine, our Author used the French Word, Medecin, i. e. a Physician; this agrees with what he subjoins immediately in Reply to the King,

Why, Doctor-She;

and write to her a Love-line.

Laf.

Laf. [Returns.] Nay, come your ways.

[Bringing in Helena.

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'm Creffid's uncle,
That dare leave two together; fare you well.

[Exit.

King. Now, fair One, do's 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.

Hel. The rather will I spare my praise towards him;
Knowing him, is enough: on's bed of death
Many receipts he gave me, chiefly one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice,
And of his old experience th'only darling,
He bade me store up, as a triple eye,

Safer than mine own two: more dear I have fo;
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 ransom nature
From her unaidable estate: we must not
So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our paft-cure malady
To empericks; or to dissever fo
Our great felf 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 bear me back again.

B2

King.

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful; Thou thought'st to help me, and such thanks I 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 reft '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 From simple sources; 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 coldest, and despair most 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. 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 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 impostor, that proclaim
My self against the level of mine aim;
But know I think, and think I know most sure,
My art is not paft power, nor you paft cure.

King. Art thou so confident? within what space

Hop'ft thou my cure ?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the fun shall 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 glass
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass;

What

What is infirm from your found parts shall fly,
Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,

What dar'st 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 vilest torture let my life be ended.

King. Methinks, in thee some blessed Spirit doth

speak

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

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:
(9) Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime can happy call;
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet Practiser, thy physick 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 deserv'd! Not helping, death's my fee;
But if I help, what do you promise me?

(9) Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all, &c.] This Verse is too short by a Foot; and apparently fome Dissyllable is drop'd out by Mischance. Mr. Warburton concurr'd with me in Conjecture to supply the Verse thus :

Youth, 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, says;

If she be

All that is virtuous, (save, What thou diflikt,

A poor Physician's Daughter;) thou dislik'st

of Virtue for her name :

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