Par. Mort du Vinaigre! is not this Helen?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think fo.

King. Go, call before me all the Lords in court.
Sir, my preferver, by thy patient's fide;

And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou haft repeal'd, a fecond time receive

The confirmation of my promis'd gift;

Which but attends thy naming.

Enter three or four Lords.

Fair maid, fend forth thine eye; this youthful parcel
Of noble batchelors ftand at my bestowing,

O'er whom both fov'reign power and father's voice
I have to use; thy frank election make;

Thou haft power to chufe, and they none to forfake.
Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
Fall, when love pleafe! marry, to each but one.
Laf. I'd give bay curtal and his furniture,

My mouth no more were broken than these boys,
And writ as little beard.

King. Perufe them well:

Not one of those, but had a noble father.

[She addreffes herself to a Lord. Hel. Gentlemen, heaven hath, through me, reftor'd The King to health.

All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a fimple maid, and therein wealthiest,
That, I proteft, I fimply am a maid.-

Please it your Majefty, I have done already :
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,

"We blush that thou should'st chufe, but be refus'd;

"Let the white death fit on thy cheek for ever,

"We'll ne'er come there again.

King. Make choice, and fee,

Who fhuns thy love, fhuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,
And to imperial Love, that God most high,
Do my fighs ftream: Sir, will you hear my fuit?
1 Lord. And grant it. +
Hel. Thanks, Sir ;-

all the reft is mute.

Laf.

Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw amesmy life.

ace for

Hel. The honour, Sir, that flames in

Before I fpeak, too threatningly replies:

your

Love make your fortunes twenty times above
Her that fo wishes, and her humble love!
2 Lord. No better, if you please.

Hel. My wish receive,

fair eyes,

Which great Love grant! and fo I take my leave.
Laf. Do all they deny her? if they were fons of mine,
I'd have them whipt, or I would fend them to the Turk
to make eunuchs of.

Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
I'll never do you wrong for your own fake:
Bleffing upon your vows, and in

your bed

Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none of her: fure, they are baltards to the English, the French ne'er got 'em.

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a fon out of my blood.

4 Lord. (12) Fair one, I think not fo.

Laf. There's one grape yet,

Par. I am fure, thy father drunk wine.
Laf. But if thou be’est not an ass, I am a
Youth of fourteen. I have known thee already.
Hel. I dare not fay, I take you; but I give
Me and my service, ever whilit I live,

(12) 4 Lord. Fair One, I think not fo.

:

Laf. There's one Grape yet, I am fure my Father drunk Wine: but if Thou be'eft not an Afs, I am a Youth of fourteen: I have known thee already.] Surely, this is most incongruent Stuff. Lafeu is angry with the other Noblemen for giving Helen the Repulfe and is he angry too, and thinks the fourth Nobleman an Afs, because he's for embracing the Match The Whole, certainly, can't be the Speech of one Mouth. As I have divided the Speech, I think, Clearnefs and Humour are reftor'd. And if Parolles were not a little pert and impertinent here to Lafeu, why should he fay, he had found him out already? Or why fhould he quarrel with him the very next Scene?

Into your guided power: this is the man. [To Bertram. King. Why then, young Bertram, take her, fhe's thy wife.

Ber. My wife, my Liege? I fhall befeech your Highnefs,

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

King. Know't thou not, Bertram,
What the hath done for me?

Ber. Yes, my good Lord,

But never hope to know why I fhould marry her.
King. Thou know'ft, fhe has rais'd me from my fickly

bed.

Ber. But follows it, my Lord, to bring me down
Must answer for your railing? I know her well:
She had her breeding at my father's charge:
A poor phyfician's daughter, my wife!

Rather corrupt me ever!

Difdain

King. 'Tis only title thou difdain'ft in her, the which

I can build up: ftrange is it, that our bloods,

Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound diftinction, yet stand off
In differences, fo mighty. If the be

All that is virtuous, (fave what thou dislik'st,
A poor phyfician's daughter) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name: but do not fo.

(13) From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignify'd by th' doer's deed.

Where great addition fwells, and virtue none,

It is a dropfied honour; good alone,

Is good without a name. Vileness is fo :
The property by what it is fhould go,
Not by the title. She is young, wife, fair;
In these, to nature she's immediate heir

;

(13) From lowest Place, whence virtuous Things proceed,

The Place is dignified by th' Doer's Deed.] 'Tis strange, that none of the Editors could perceive, that both the Sentiment and Grammar are defective here. The eafy Correction, which I have given, was prefcribed to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby.

And

And these breed honour: That is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. Honours beft thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the meer word's a slave
Debaucht on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy; (14) and as oft is dumb,
Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed. What should be faid?
If thou can't like this creature as a maid,

I can create the reft: virtue and she,

Is her own dow'r; honour and wealth from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.

King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st strive to chufe.

Hel. That you are well reftor'd, my lord, I'm glad : Let the rest

go.

King (15) My honour's at the ftake; which to defend,
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud fcornful boy, unworthy this good gift!
That doft in vile mifprifion fhackle up

My love, and her desert; that canst not dream,
We, poizing us in her defective scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour, where

(14)

-and as oft is dumb,

Where Duft and damn’d-Oblivion is the Tomb.

Of bonour'd Bones, indeed, what should be faid?] This is fuch pretty Stuff, indeed, as is only worthy of its accurate Editors! The Transpofition of an innocent Stop, or two, is a Task above their Diligence: especially, if common Senfe is to be the Refult of it. The Regulation, I have given, must ftrike every Reader so at first Glance, that it needs not a Word in Confirmation.

which to defeat

(15) My Honour's at the Stake; I must produce my Pow'r.] The poor King of France is again made a Man of Gotham, by our unmerciful Editors: What they make him fay, is mere mock-reafoning: For he is not to make use of his Authority to defeat, but to` defend, his Honour.

We

We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt:
Obey our will, which travels in thy good;
Believe not thy disdain, but presently

Do thine own fortunes that obedient right,
Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims; .
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
Into the staggers, and the careless lapfe

Of youth and ignorance; my revenge and haté
Loofing upon thee in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity. Speak, thine answer.
Ber. Pardon, my gracious Lord; for I fubmit
My fancy to your eyes. When I confider,
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid; I find, that fhe, which late
Was in my noble thoughts most base, is now-
The praised of the King; who, fo enobled,
Is, as 'twere, born fo...

King. Take her by the hand,

And tell her, she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize; if not in thy estate,

A balance more repleat.

Ber. I take her hand..

King. Good fortune, and the favour of the King
Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony
Shall feem expedient on the new-born brief,
And be perform'd to night; the folemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting abfent friends. As thou lov'ft her,
Thy love's to me religious; else does err.

Manent Parolles and Lafeu.

[Exeunt.

Laf. Do you hear, Monfieur? a word with you.
Par. Your pleasure, Sir?

Laf. Your Lord and Mafter did well to make his recantation.

Par. Recantation?

-my Lord? my

Mafter?

Laf. Ay, is it not a language I fpeak?

Par. A moft harfh one, and not to be understood

without bloody fucceeding. My mafter?

Laf. Are you companion to the Count Roufillon?

Par.