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none,

thank you for your honest care :- I will speak with you further anon.

[Exit Steward. Enter HELENA. Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young

If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ;

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth : By our remembrances of days forgone, Such were our faults ;-or then we thought them Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.

Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?

Count. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.

Hel. Mine honourable mistress.
Count. Nay, a mother ;
Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent :- What's in mother,
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine :'Tis often seen,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds :
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care :
God's mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood,
To say I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this disteviper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ?
Why?-_That you are my daughter ?

Hel. That I am not.
Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, madam ;
The count Rousillon cannot be my brother :
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die :
He must not be my brother.

Count. Nor I your mother?
Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'would you

were
Se that iny lord

your son, were not my brother,) Indeed, my mother !--Or were you both our mo

thers, I care no more for, than I do for heaven,

law;

So I were not his sister: Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?

Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-
God shield, you mean it not ! Daughter, and mother,
So strive * upon your pulse :—What, pale again?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness :--Now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head t. Now to all sense 'tis gross,
You love my son; invention is ashamed,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say thou dost not; therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so :-For look thy cheeks
Confess it, one to the other; and thine eyes
See it so grossly shewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind I they speak it; only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected :-Speak, is't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forsweart: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
Hel. Good mad am, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my son?
Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress!
Count. Love you my son ?
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, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son :My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love ; Be not offended; for it hurts not him, That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him ; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve, I still pour in the waters of my love, And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore • Contend.

+ The source of your griei. | According to their nature.

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do : but, if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love ; 0 then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ;
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies.

Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, To go to Paris ?

Hel. Madam, I had.
Count. Wherefore ? tell true.

Ilel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear.
You know, my father left me some prescriptions
of rare and proved effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected
For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me
In heed fullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note : amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishes whereof
The king is rendered lost.
Count. This was

your motive For Paris, was it ? Speak.

Heb. My lord your son made me to think of this ; Else 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 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine*, have left off The danger to itself ?

Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would your

honour

Exhausted of their skill.

But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure,
By such a day, and bour.
Count. Dost thou believe't?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.
Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave,

and love,
Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings
To those of mine in court; I'll stay at home,
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.

(Ereunt. ACT II.

SCENE 1.-Paris.--A Room in the King's

Palace. Flourish. Enter KING, with young LORDS taking

leave for the Florentine War; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin.

ciples Do not throw from you :-And you, my lord, fare

well : Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received, And is enough for both. • 1 Lord. It is our hope, Sir, After well-enter'd soldiers, to return And find your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords ; Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher 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, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your ma

jesly! King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them;

Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the reniains of the Roman empire.

+ Seeker, enquirer. VOL II.

G &

They say our French lack language to deny,
If they demand : beware of being captives,
Before you serve.

Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewell.–Come hither to me.

[The King retires to a couch. 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be.

hind us ! Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark2 Lord, 0, 'tis brave wars ! Par. Most 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. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away

bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the fore horse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance witht! By heaven, I'll steal

away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured

body. 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles !

Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals :You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spario, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword intrench'd it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me.

2 Lord. We shall, noble captain.

Par. Mars dote on you for his novices! (Exeunt Lords.) What will you do? Ber. Stay ; the king

[Seeing him rise. Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords ; yon have restraind yourself within the list of too cold an adieu : be more expressive to them ; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time i,

* With a noise, bustle.

+ In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentiemen to dance with swords on.

1 They are the foremost in the fashion.

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