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He would receive it? He and his Phyficians
Are of one Mind; he, that they cannot help him:
They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit
A poor unlearned Virgin, when the Schools.
Embowell'd of their Doctrine, have left off
The Danger to it self?

Hel. There's fomething in't

More than my Father's Skill, which was the great'ft
Of his Profeffion, that his good Receipt

Shall for my Legacy be fanctified

By th' luckieft Stars in Heav'n; and would your Honour But give me leave, for the fuccefs I'd venture

The well loft Life of mine, on his Grace's Cure,

By fuch a Day and Hour.

Count. Do'st thou believe't?

Hel. Ay, Mádam, knowingly.

Count. Why, Hellen, thou fhalt have my Leave and Love, Means and Attendants, and my loving Greetings To thofe of mine in Court. I'll stay at home, And pray God's Bleffing unto thy Attempt: Be gone to Morrow, and be fure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

Enter the King with divers young Lords, taking leave for the Florentine War. Bertram and Parolles. Flourish Cornets.

King. Farewel, young Lords: Thefe warlike Principles

Do not throw from you; and you, my Lords,
farewel;

Share the Advice betwixt you. If both gain, all
The Gift doth ftretch it felf as 'tis receiv'd,

And is enough for both.

I Lord. 'Tis our Hope, Sir,

After well entered Soldiers, to return

And find your Grace in Health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my Heart

Will not confefs he owes the Malady

U 3

That

That doth my Life befiege; farewel, young Lords,
Whether I live or die, be you the Sons
Of worthy French Men; let higher Italy,
Those bated that inherit but the Fall
Of the laft Monarchy, fee that you come
Not to woo Honour, but to wed it, when
The bravest Queftion fhrinks; find what you feck,
That Fame may cry you loud: I fay, farewel.

I 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.

1 Lord. Oh, my fweet Lord, that you will stay behind us. Par. 'Tis not his Fault, the Spark

2 Lord. Oh 'tis brave Wars.

Par. Moft admirable; I have seen those Wars.
Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a Coil with,
Too young, and the next Year, and 'tis too early.
Par. And thy Mind ftand to it, Boy;

Steal away bravely.

Ber. I ftay here the Forehorse to a Smock, Creeking my Shooes on the plain Masonry, 'Till Honour be bought up, and no Sword worn But one to dance with: By Heav'n I'll fteal away. 1 Lord. There's Honour in the Theft.

Par. Commit it, Count.

2 Lord. I am acceffary, and fo farewel.

Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd Body. 1 Lard. Farewel, Captain.

2 Lord. Sweet Monfieur Parolles.

Par. Noble Heroes, my Sword and yours are kin; good Sparks and luftrous; a Word, good Metals. You fhall find in the Regiment of Spinii, one Captain Spurio his Cicatrice, with an Emblem of War here on his finifter Cheek; it was this very Sword entrench'd it; fay to him, I live, and obferve his Reports of me.

I Lord. We fhall, noble Captain.

Par. Mars doat on you for his Novices; what will ye do?

Ber.

Ber. Stay; the King.

Par. Ule a more fpacious Ceremony to the noble Lords, you have reftrain'd your felf within the Lift of too cold an Adieu; be more expreffive to them, for they wear themfelves in the Cap of the Time, there do muiter true Gate, eat, fpeak, and move under the Influence of the most receiv'd Star, and tho' the Devil lead the Measure, fuch are to be follow'd: After them, and take a more dilated farewel.

Ber. And I will do fo.

Enter Lafeu.

Par. Worthy Fellows, and like to prove most finewy Sword men. [Exeunt. Laf. Pardon, my Lord, for me and for my Tidings. King. I'll fee thee to ftand up..

(Pardon. Laf. Then here's a Man ftands that hath brought his

I would you had kneel'd, my Lord, to ask me Mercy,
And that at my Bidding you could so ftand up.

King. I would I had, fo I had broke thy Pate,

And ask'd thee Mercy for't.

Laf. Goodfaith a Crofs, 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, and if

My Royal Fox could reach them: I have feen a Medicine

That's able to break Life into a Stone,

Quicken a Rock, and make you dance Canary

With sprightly Fire and Motion, whofe fimple Touch
Is powerful to araife King Pippen, nay,

To give great Charlemain a Pen in's Hand,
And write to her a Love-line.

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why Doctor She: 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
With one, that in her Sex, her Years, Profeffion,
Wisdom 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 as me,

U 4

King.

King. Now, good Lafen,

Bring in the Admiration, that we with thee

May spend our Wonder too, or take off thine,
By wondring how thou took'ft it.

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,

And not be all Day neither.

King. Thus he his fpecial nothing ever Prologues.

Laf. Nay, come your ways.

King. This hafte hath Wings indeed.

Laf. Nay, come your ways,

[Bringing in Helena.

This is his Majefty, fay your Mind to him;
A Traitor you do look like, but fuch Traitors
His Majefty feldom fears; I am Creffed's Uncle,
That dare leave two together; fare you well.

[Exit.

King. Now, fair one, do's your Bufinefs follow us?
Hel. Ay, my good Lord.

Gerard de Narbon was my Father,

In what he did profefs, well found.
King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I fpare my Praifes towards him,

Knowing him is enough: On's Bed of Death

Many Receipts he gave me, namely one,

Which as the deareft Iffue of his Practice,
And of his old Experience, th' only Darling,
He bad me ftore up, as a Triple-Eye,
Safer than mine own two: More dear I have fo;
And hearing your high Majefty is touch'd
With that malignant Caufe, wherein the Honour
Of my dear Father's Gift ftands chief in Power,
I come to tender it, and my Appliance,
With all bound Humbleness.

King. We thank you, Maiden';
But may not be fo credulous of Cure,
When our moft learned Doctors leave us, and
The congregated Colledge have concluded,
That labouring Art can never ranfome Nature
From her unaidable Eftate: I fay, we must not
So ftain our Judgment, or corrupt our Hope,
To prostitute our paft-cure Malady

To Empericks, or to diffever fo

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Our great felf and our Credit, to eftcem
A fenfeless help, when help past sense we deem.
Hel. My Duty then fhall pay me for my pains;
I will no more enforce my Office on you,
Humbly intreating from your Royal Thoughts,
A modeft one to bear me back again.

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful;
Thou thought'ft to help me, and fuch Thanks I give,
As one near Death to thofe that with 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 fet up your Reft 'gainst Remedy; He that of greatest Works is finifher, Oft does them by the weakeft Minister : So holy Writ, in Babes, hath Judgment shown, When Judges have been Babes. Great Floods have flown From fimple Sources; and great Seas have dried, When Miracles have by the great'ft been denied. Oft Expectation fails, and moft oft there Where most it promifes: And oft it hits, Where Hope is coldeft, and Defpair most shifts.

King. I muft not hear thee; fare thee well, kind Maid,
Thy pains not us'd, muft by thy felf be paid,
Proffers not took, reap Thanks for their Reward.
Hel. Inspired Merit fo by Breath is bar'd:
It is not fo with him that all things knows
As 'tis with us, that square our Guess by fhows:
But most it is Prefumption in us, when
The help of Heav'n we count the act of Men.
Dear Sir, to my Endeavours give confent,
Of Heav'n, not me, make an Experiment.
I am not an Impoftor, that proclaim
My felf against the level of mine aim,

But know, I think, and think I know moft fure,
My Art is not paft Power, nor you paft Cure.
King. Art thou fo confident? within what space
Hop'ft thou my Cure?

Hel. The Greatest lending Grace,
E'er twice the Horfes of the Sun fhall bring
Their fiery Torcher his diurnal Ring.

E'er

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