Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'ft thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal foundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First try'd our foldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Difcipled 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 obferve
To-day in our young lords; but they may jeft,
Till their own fcorn 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 them; 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 place 2;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled 3: Such a man
Might be a copy to thefe younger times:
Which follow'd well, would demonftrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, fir,

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof 4 lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech 5.

King. Would, I were with him! He would al-
ways fay,
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plaufive words
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 heel of pastime,
When it was out,-let me not live, quoth he,
After my flame lacks oil, to be the fnuff
Of younger fpirits, whofe apprehenfive fenfes
All but new things difdain; whofe judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whofe confiancies
Expire before their fabiens:-This he wish'd:
I, after him, do after him with too,
Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were diffolved from my hive,
To give fome labourer room.

2 Lord. You are lov'd, fir;

you

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

count,

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

Ber. Some fix months fince, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet ;-
5 Lend me an arm;· -the reft have worn me out
With feveral applications :-nature and sickness
Debate it at their leifure. Welcome, count;
My fon's no dearer.

15

Ber. Thank your majefty. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE

III.

A Room in the Count's Palace.

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown".

Count. I will now hear: what fay 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 paft endeavours; for then we wound our 20 modesty, and make foul the clearness of our defervings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, firrah: The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my flowness, that I 25 do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make fuch knaveries yours 8.

30

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

Count. Well, fir.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not fo well, that I am poor though many of the rich are damn'd: But, if I may have your ladyfhip's good will to go to the world, Ifbel the woman and I will do as we 35 may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
Cl. I do beg your good will in this cafe.
Count. In what cafe?

Clo. In Ifbel's cafe, and mine own.

Service is

40 no heritage: and, I think, I fhall never have the bleffing of God, till I have iffue of my body; for, they fay, bearns are bleffings.

Count. Tell me thy reafon why thou wilt marry. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am 45 driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

50

Count. Is this all your worship's reason?

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, fuch 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.

That is, cover petty faults with great merit. bore from them what he would not from one of his own rank. 2 i. e. he made allowances for their conduct, and his inferiors, he exalted them and made them proud; and, in the gracious receiving their poor praife, he 3 i. e. by condescending to stoop to bumbled even his bumility. epitaph or inscription on his tomb is not fo much in approbation or commendation of him, as is your 4 Approof is approbation. 5 Mr. Tollet explains this paffage thus: "His royal speech." A Clown in Shakspeare is commonly taken for a licensed jefter, or domestick fool. We are not to wonder that we find this character often in his plays, fince fools were, at that time, maintained in all great families, to keep up merriment in the house. 7 i. e. to equal your defires.

8 i. e. You are fool enough to commit thofe irregularities you are charged with, and yet not so much fool neither, as to difcredit the accufation by any defect in your ability. note, p. 128. 9 i. e. to be married. See

Count.

Count. Thy marriage, fooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's fake.

I

5

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clo. You are fhallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am aweary of. He, that ears my land, fpares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop : ifl be his cuckold, 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 kiffes my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; 15 for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poyfam the papift, howfoe'er their hearts are fevered in religion, their heads are both one, they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Well, now.

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

Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeath'd her to me; and the herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as fhe finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and more fhall be paid her, than fhe'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; the thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd not any ftranger fenfe. Her matter was, the lov'd your fon : Fortune, fhe faid, was no goddefs, that had put fuch difference betwixt their two eftates; 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 furprised without rescue in the first

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and 20 affault, or ransom afterward: This fhe deliver'd in calumnious knave?

Clo. A prophet, I, madam: and I fpeak the truth the next 3 way.

For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find ;
Your marriage comes by deftiny,
Your cuckoo fings by kind.

Count. Get you gone, fir; I'll talk with you

more anon.

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak.

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would fpeak with her: Helen I mean.

Clo. Was this fair face the caufe, quoth fhe, [Singing.
Why the Grecians facked Troy ?
Fond4 done, done fond,

Was this king Priam's joy.
With that fhe figbed as fhe food,
With that he figbed as fhe flood,
And gave this fentence 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 fong, firrah.

25

the most bitter touch of forrdw, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty, speedily to acquaint you withal; fithence, in the lofs that may happen, it concerns you something to know it.

Count. You have discharg'd this honeftly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung fo tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor mifdoubt: Pray you, leave me: ftall this in your bofom, and I 30 thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward.

Enter Helena.

Count. Even fo it was with me, when I was

young:

35 If we are nature's, thefe are ours: this thorn

Doth to our rofe of youth rightly belong;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
It is the fhew and feal of nature's truth,
Where love's ftrong paffion is impreft in youth:
40 By our remembrances 5 of days foregone, [none.
Such were our faults, O! then we thought them
Her eye is fick on't; I obferve her now.
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam ?
Count. You know, Helen,

is

Count. Nay, a mother;

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which a purifying o' the fong: 'Would God would ferve the world fo all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the parfon : One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman 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, fir knave, and do as I command you?

50

Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a ferpent: What's in mother,
That you start at it? I fay, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of thofe
That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often feen,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native flip to us from foreign feeds:
55 You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I exprefs to you a mother's care:-
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood,
To fay, I am thy mother? What's the mattter,
That this diftemper'd meffenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why?that you are my daughter?

Clo. That man fhould be at a woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the furplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forfooth: the business is 60 for Helen to come hither.

1 To ear is to plough.

[Exit.

2 It is a fuperftition, which hath run through all ages and people, that natural fools have fomething in them of divinity; on which account they were esteemed facred. i. e. the neareft way. 4 Fond here means foulishly done. 5 i. e. according to our recollection.

Hel.

Hel. That I am not.

Count. I fay, I am your mother.

Hel. Pardon, madam;

The count Roufillon cannot be my brother:

I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble :
My mafter, my dear lord he is; and I
His fervant live, and will his vassal die :
He must not be my brother.

Count. Nor I your mother?

Religious in mine error, I adore

The fun, 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,
Whofe aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in fo true a flame of liking,

With chaftely, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herfelf and love; O then, give pity
[were 10 To her, whose state is such, that cannot chufe
But lend and give, where the is fure to lofe;
That feeks not to find that, her fearch implies,
But, riddle-like, lives fweetly where the dies.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
15 To go to Paris?

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 mothers,
I care no more for1, than I do for heaven,
So I were not his fifter: Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-

in-law;

[mother,
God fhield, you mean it not! daughter, and
So ftrive upon your pulfe: What, pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondnefs: Now I fee
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your falt tears' head2. Now to all fenfe 'tis grofs,
You love my fon; invention is asham'd,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To fay, thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis fo :-for, look, thy cheeks
Confefs it one to the other; and thine eyes
See it fo grofly fhewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it; only fin
And hellish obftinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth fhould be fufpccted: Speak, is't fo?
If it be fo, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forfwear'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 fon?

Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress!

Count. Love you my fon?

Hel. Do not you love him, madam?

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

Hel. Then, I confefs,

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

I love your fon :

Hel. Madam, I had.

Count. Wherefore? tell true.

Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear.
You know, my father left me fome prescriptions
20 Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected

For general fovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfulleft reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whofe faculties inclusive were

25 More than they were in note 4: amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approv'd, fet down,

To cure the defperate languishings, whereof
The king is render'd loft.

Count. This was your motive

30 For Paris, was it? speak.

35

Hel. My lord your fon made me to think of this;
Elfe 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 credit
40 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
Embowell'd of their doctrine 5, have left off
The danger to itself?

Hel. There's fomething hints,

More than my father's skill, which was the greatest 45 Of his profeffion, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be fanctified

[honour

By the luckieft ftars in heaven: and, would your
But give me leave to try fuccefs, I'd venture
The well-loft life of mine on his grace's cure,

My friends were poor, but honeft; fo's my love: 50 By fuch a day, and hour.

Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of prefumptuous fuit;

Nor would I have him, 'till I do deserve him;
Yet never know how that defert should be.
I know I love in vain, ftrive against hope;
Yet, in this captious 3 and intenible fieve,
I ftill pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lofe ftill: thus, Indian-like,

Count. Doft thou believe 't?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.

[and love,

Count. Why, Helen, thou fhalt have my leave, Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings 55 To thofe of mine in court; I'll stay at home, And pray God's bleffing into thy attempt: Be gone to-morrow; and be fure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not mifs. [Exeunt.

1 I care no more for, is, I care as much for-I with it equally. 2 i. e. the fource of your grief. 3 Dr. Johnson fufpects we should read caricus, i. e. rotten. + Meaning, prescriptions in which greater virtues were inch fed than appeared to obfervation.

5. e. exhausted of their skill.

AGT

Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove mot 20finewy fword-men.

That does my life befiege. Farewel, young lords;
Whether I live or die, be you the fons
Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher1 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 fay, farewel.

2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, ferve your
majefty!

King. Thofe girls of Italy, take heed of them;
They fay, our French lack language to deny,
If they demand: beware of being captives,
Before you ferve.

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

Enter Lafeu.

[Exeunt. [Lafeu kneels.

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 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; fo I had broke thy pate, 30 And afk'd thee mercy for't.

Laf. Goodfaith, across2:—but my good lord, Will you be cur'd of your infirmity? ['tis thus; King, No.

Laf. O, will you eat

[The King retires to a couch. 35 No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will,

1 Lord. Oh my fweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault! the spark2 Lord. Oh, 'tis brave wars!

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

4c

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

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

1 Lerd. Farewel, captain.

2 Lord. Sweet monfieur Parolles !
Par. Noble heroes, my fword and yours are kin.
Good fparks and luftrous, a word, good metals :-
You fhall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one

My noble grapes, an if my royal fox
Could reach them: I have feen a medicin,
That's able to breathe life into a stone;
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With fprightly fire and motion; whose fimple
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line.
King. What her is this?

[touch

Laf. Why, doctor fhe: My lord, there's one

arriv'd,

If you will fee her-now, by my faith and honour,
If feriously I may convey my thoughts

In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
50 With one, that in her fex, her years, profeffion,
Wifdom, and conftancy, hath amaz'd me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you fee her,
(For that is her demand) and know her bufinefs?
That done, laugh well at me.

55

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'st it.

1 The epithet bigher is here to be understood as referring to situation rather than to dignity. word, as has been before obferved, is used when any pafs of wit mifcarries.

2 This

Laf.

[him;
15
Hel. The rather will I fpare 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 bad me ftore up, as a triple eye,

That is, "I am not an impoftor that proclaim one thing and design another." thus happily explains this obfcure paffage: "I would bear (fays fhe) 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 fubject 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 worft of tortures. The poet for the fake of rhime has obfcured the fenfe of the paffage. The worst that can befal a woman being extended to me, feems to be the meaning of the last line." 3 The author of the Revifal of Shakspeare's Text explains this line thus: "The verb deth Speak, in the first line, should be understood to be repeated in the construction of the second, thus; His powerful found speaks within a weak organ.” 4 i. e. youth. Kng.