King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? Hel. Ay, my good Lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father, In what he did profefs, well found. Hel. The rather will I fpare my praife toward him; Knowing him, is enough: on's bed of death Many receipts he gave me, chiefly one, Safer than mine own two: more dear I have fo; power, King. We thank you, maiden; To empirics; or to diffever fo Our great felf and our credit, to esteem A fenfeless help, when help paft sense we deem. King, I cannot give thee lefs, to be call'd grateful; Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you fet up your reft 'gainst remedy. He He that of greateft works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minifter: When judges have been babes; great floods have flown King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind But know I think, and think I know moft sure, King. Art thou fo confident? within what space Hop'st thou my cure? Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, Hel. Tax of impudence, A ftrumpet's boldnefs, a divulged shame, King. Methinks, in thee fome bleffed fpirit doth speak: In common fenfe, fenfe faves another way. Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deferv'd! Not helping, death's my fee; King. Make thy demand. Hel. But will you make it even? King. Ay, by my fceptre, 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 premiffes obferv'd, More fhould I question thee, and more I muft; [Exeunt. SCENE SCENE IV. Changes to Roufillon. Enter Countess and Clown. Count. Come on, Sir; I fhall now put you to the height of your breeding. Clo. I will fhew myself highly fed, and lowly taught; I know my business is but to the court. Count. But to the court? why, what place make you fpecial, 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 easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kifs his hand, and fay nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed fuch a fellow, to fay precisely, 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. 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 queftions? 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-Tuesday, a moris 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 fay, an answer of fuch fitness for all questions? Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your conftable, it will fit any queftion. Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous fize, that must fit all demands. Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned fnould speak truth of it; here it is, and all that belongs to't. Afk 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 fool in a question, hoping to be the wifer by your anfwer. 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 your's, that loves you. Clo. O Lord, Sir, thick, thick, fpare not me. 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. fpare not me. Clo. O Lord, Sir, Count. Do you cry, Lord, Sir, at your whipping, and Spare not me? Indeed, your O Lord, Sir, is very fequent to your whipping, you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were bound to't. Clo. I ne'er had worfe luck in my life, in my Lord, Sir; I fee, things may serve long, but not ferve ever. Count. I play the noble hufwife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool. Clo. O Lord, Sir,-why there't ferves again. Count. An end, Sir; to your business: give Helen this, And urge her to a present anfwer back. Commend me to my kinfmen, and my fon: Clo. Not much commendation to them? Count. Not much employment for you; you underftand me? Clo. Moft fruitfully, I am there before my legs. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Changes to the court of France. Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. Laf. They fay miracles are past; and we have our philofophical perfons to make modern, and familiar, things fupernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; enfconfing ourselves into * A ridicule on that foolish expletive of fpeech then in vogue at court. feeming |