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By any token of presumptuous suit; Tab Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him, Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, Is I still pour in the waters of my love,



And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore


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Then, I confess,

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your son.-

t: My friends 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


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The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
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 Dian
Was both herself and love, O! then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend 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 truly,
To go to Paris?

Madam, I had.

Hel. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. You know, my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were

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But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure,
By such a day, and hour.

Dost thou believe't?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.
Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave,
and love,
Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings
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.





SCENE I.-Paris. A Room in the KING's Palace.
Flourish. Enter KING with young Lords taking
leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROL-
LES, and Attendants.

King. Farewell, young lords: these warlike

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

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

1 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
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, 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,
That fame may cry you loud. I say, farewell.
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,
If they demand: beware of being captives,
Before you serve.
Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewell.-Come hither to me.
[The KING retires to a couch.

1 Lord. O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault, the spark.

2 Lord.
O, 'tis brave wars!
Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars.


Ber. I am comm "Too young," an early."

Par. An thy n


Ber. I shall sta Creaking my shoe Till honour be bou But one to danc


1 Lord. There' Par.

2 Lord. I am y Ber. I grow to


1 Lord. Farewe 2 Lord. Sweet Par. Noble her Good sparks, and you shall find in captain Spurio, w war, here on his sword entrenched his reports for me. 2 Lord. We sh

Par. Mars dote will you do?

Ber. Stay; the Par. Use a more lords: you have re of too cold an adieu for they wear then there do muster t under the influence though the devil lea followed. After th farewell.

Ber. And I will

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Laf. Pardon, my Lord,-[Kneeling.]—for me and for my tidings. King. I'll see thee to stand up. Laf. Then here's a man stands, that has brought 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, And ask'd thee mercy for't.

Laf. Goodfaith, across. But, my good lord, 'tis thus;

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. I have seen
A medicine that's able to breathe life into a stone,
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemaine a pen in's hand,
And write to her a love-line.

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her, (For that is her demand,) and know her business? That done, laugh well at me.

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'st it.


Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [Exit LAFEU. King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

Re-enter LAFeu, with HELENA.

Laf. Nay, come your ways. 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.

[Erit. 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.

I knew him. Hel. The rather will I spare my praises 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 bad 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 ransom 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 empirics; 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 entreating from your royal thoughts
A modest one, to bear me back again.

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 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

From simple sources; and great seas have dried,
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
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

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;
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

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

His powerful sound within an organ weak;
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;
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all
That happiness and prime can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,
That 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 me?
King. Make thy demand.

But will you make it even?
King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of

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;
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd:
So make the choice of thy own time; for I,
Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely.
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know could not be more to trust,
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on; but rest
Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest.-
Give me some help here, ho!-If thou proceed
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE II.-Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS'S

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, as a pan

cake for Shrove-Tuesday, 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 ail that belongs to't: ask me if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could. I w be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?' Clo. O Lord, sir!-there's a simple putting off.More, more, a hundred of them.


Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir!-Thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.

Clo. O Lord, sir!—Nay, put me to't, I warrant


Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clo. O Lord, sir!-Spare not me.


Count. Do you cry, “O Lord, sir," at your whip ping, and "spare not me?" Indeed, your “O Lord sir," is very sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but

bound to't.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my "O Lord, sir." I see, things may serve long, bu

not serve ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time To entertain it so merrily with a fool.

Clo. O Lord, sir!-why, there't serves well again.

Count. An end, sir: to your business. Give Helen this,

And urge her to a present answer back: Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son. This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them. Count. Not much employment for you: you understand me?

Clo. Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs, Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III.-Paris. A Room in the KING's Palace.

Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder. that hath shot out in our latter times. Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,-
Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,—
Par. Right; so I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable,-Par. Why, there 'tis; so say I too. Laf. Not to be helped,

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Par. Right; as 'twere a man assured of an— Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.

Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in,—what do you call there ?— Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly


Par. That's it I would have said; the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, I speak in respect

Par. Nay, 'tis strange; 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most facinorous spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the

Laf. Very hand of heaven.
Par. Ay, so I say.

Laf. In a most weak

Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence; which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants.

Par. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king.

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head. Why, he's able to lead her a coranto.

Par. Mort du vinaigre! Is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.

King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.-
[Exit an Attendant.
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promis'd gift,
Which but attends thy naming.

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Peruse them well:
Not one of those but had a noble father.

Hel. Gentlemen,

Heaven hath through me restor'd the king to health. All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.

Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest. That, I protest, I simply am a maid.— Please it your majesty, I have done already : The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, "We blush, that thou should'st choose; but, be refus'd,

Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever:
We'll ne'er come there again."

King. Make choice; and, see, Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me. Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,

And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit? 1 Lord. And grant it.


Thanks, sir: all the rest is mute. Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw ames-ace for my life.

Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair


Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! 2 Lord. No better, if you please. Hel. My wish receive, Which great Love grant! and so I take my leave. Laf. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped, or I would send them to the Turk to make eunuchs of.

Hel. [To 3 Lord.] Be not afraid that I your hand should take;

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake: Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. 4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

Laf. There's one grape yet,-1 am sure, thy father drank wine.-But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen: I have known thee already. Hel. [To BERTRAM.] I dare not say, I take you; but I give

Me, and my service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guiding power.-This is the man.
King. Why then, young Bertram, take her; she's
thy wife.

Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your highness,

In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.

Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What she has done for me?
Yes, my good lord;
But never hope to know why I should marry her.
King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from my
sickly bed.

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father's charge. A poor physician's daughter my wife?-Disdain Rather corrupt me ever!

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which

I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be

All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name; but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone

Is good, without a name; vileness is so:
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir,
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,

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