What is infirm from your found parts fhall fly, 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 vileft torture let my life be ended. King. Methinks, in thee fome bleffed Spirit doth fpeak His powerful found, within an organ weak ; In common sense, sense faves another way. And well deferv'd! Not helping, death's my fee; (9) Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all,' &c.] This Verfe is too fhort by a Foot; and apparently fome Diffyllable is drop'd out by Mifchance. 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 fpeak of her to Bertram, fays, If fhe be All that is virtuous, (fave, What thou diflik'st, Of Virtue for her name : —— 1 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; King. Here is my Hand, the premises obferv'd, More fhould I queftion thee, and more I muft; SCENE changes to Roufillon. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. COME on, Sir, I fall now put you to the height 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 swear by: and therefore Helen might fufpect, he meant to equivocate with her. Befides, obferve, the greatest Part of the Scene is strictly in Rhyme : and there is no Shadow of Reason why it should be interrupted here. I rather imagine, the Poet wrote; Ay, by my Scepter, and my Hopes of Heaven. Dr. Thirlby. Count. Count. But to the court? why, what place make you special, when you put off that with fuch contempt; but to the court ! Clo. Truly, Madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may eafily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kifs his hand, and fay nothing, has neither leg, hand, lip, nor cap; and indeed, fuch a fellow, to fay precifely, were not for the court: but for me, I have an answer will ferve all men. Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. Cl. 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 anfwer ferve fit to all questions? Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffaty punk, as Tib's ruth for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuefday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a fcolding 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 fay, an answer of such fitness for all questions? Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your conftable, it will fit any question. Count. It must be an answer of most monftrous fize, that must fit all demands. Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned fhould fpeak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me, if I am a courtier ; it fhall do you no harm to learn. Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in a question, hoping to be the wifer by your answer. I pray you, Sir, are you a courtier ? Clo. O lord, Sir there's a fimple 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, fpare not me. Count. Count. I think, Sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. Clo. O lord, Sir you. nay, put me to't, I warrant Count. You were lately whipp'd, Sir, as I think. Count. Do you cry, O lord, Sir, at your whipping, and fpare not me? indeed, your O lord, Sir, is very fequent to your whipping: you would anfwer, very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. O Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in mylord, Sir; I fee, things may ferve long, but not ferve ever. Count. I play the noble hufwife with the time, to entertain it fo merrily with a fool. Clo. O lord, Sir-why, there't ferves well again. Count. An end, Sir; to your bufinefs: give Helen this, And urge her to a prefent answer back. Commend me to my kinfmen, and my fon: This is not much. Clo. Not much commendation to them? Count. Not much imployment for you, you underftand me. Clo. Moft fruitfully, I am there before my legs. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Court of France. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. Laf. (11) THE HEY fay, miracles are paft; and we have our philofophical perfons to make ́modern, and familiar, things fupernatural and causeless. (11) They fay Miracles are paft, and we have our Philosophical Perfons to make modern and familiar things fupernatural and causelefs.] This, as it has hitherto been pointed, is directly oppofite to our Poet's, and his Speaker's Meaning. As I have ftop'd it, the Senfe quadrates with the Context: and, surely, it is one unalterable Property of Philofophy, to make feeming ftrange and preternatural Phænomena familiar, and reduceable to Caufe and Reafon. Hence Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; enfconfing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should fubmit ourselves to an unknown fear. Par. Why, 'tis the rareft argument of wonder that hath fhot out in our later times. Laf. To be relinquifh'd of the artists Par. So I fay, both of Galen and Paracelfus. Laf. That gave him out incurable, Par. Why, there 'tis, fo fay I too. Laf. Not to be help'd, Par. Right, as 'twere a man affur'd of an Par. Juft, you fay well fo would I have faid. Laf. A fhewing of a heav'nly effect in an earthly actor. Par. That's it, I would have faid the very fame. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not luftier : for me, I fpeak in refpect Par. Nay, 'tis ftrange, 'tis very ftrange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a molt facineri ous fpirit, that will not acknowledge it to be theLaf. Very hand of heav'n. Par. Ay, so I say. Laf. In a moit weak Par. And debile minifter, great power, great transcendence; which should, indeed, give us a farther ufe to be made than alone the recov'ry of the King; as to beLaf. Generally thankful. Enter King, Helena, and attendants. Par. I would have faid it, you faid well here comes the King. Laf. Luftick, as the Dutchman fays: I'll like a Maid the better, while I have a tooth in my head: why, he's able to lead her a Corranto. |