Chapter 14

King.The Florentines andSenoysare by the ears;Have fought with equal fortune, and continueA braving war.First Lord.So 'tis reported, sir.King.Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it5A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will move usFor speedy aid; wherein our dearest friendPrejudicates the business, and would seemTo have us make denial.First Lord.His love and wisdom,10Approved so to your majesty, may pleadFor amplest credence.King.He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is denied before he comes:Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to seeThe Tuscan service, freely have they leaveTo stand on either part.15Sec. Lord.It well mayserveA nursery to our gentry, who are sickFor breathing and exploit.King.What's he comes here?EnterBertram,Lafeu,andParolles.First Lord.It isthe Count Rousillon, my good lord,Young Bertram.King.Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;20Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,Hath well composed thee.Thy father's moral partsMayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.Ber.My thanks and duty are your majesty's.King.I would I had that corporal soundness now,25As when thy father and myself in friendshipFirst tried our soldiership! He did look farInto the service of the time, and wasDiscipled of thebravest:he lasted long;But on us both did haggish age steal on,30And wore us out of act. It much repairs meTo talk of your good father. In his youthHe had the wit, which I canwellobserveTo-day in our young lords; but they may jestTill their own scorn return to them unnoted35Ere they canhide their levityinhonour:So like a courtier,contempt norbitternessWerein his pride or sharpness;if they were,His equal had awaked them; and his honour,Clockto itself, knew the true minute when40Exceptionbid him speak, and at this timeHis tongue obey'dhis hand:who were below himHe used as creatures ofanother place;And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,Making themproud ofhishumility,45In their poor praisehe humbled. Such a manMight be a copy to these younger times;Which, follow'd well, woulddemonstrate them nowBut goers backward.Ber.His good remembrance, sir,Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;50So in approof lives not hisepitaphAs in your royal speech.King.Would I were with him! He would always say—Methinks I hear him now; his plausive wordsHe scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,55To grow there and to bear,—'Let me not live,'—Thishis good melancholy oft began,On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,Whenitwas out,—'Let me not live,' quoth he,'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff60Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgements areMerefathersof their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions. This he wish'd:I after him do after him wish too,65Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive,To give somelabourersroom.Sec. Lord.You are loved, sir;They that least lend it you shall lack you first.King.I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,70Since the physician at your father's died?He was much famed.Ber.Some six months since, my lord.King.If he were living, I would try him yet.Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me outWith several applications: nature and sickness75Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;My son's no dearer.Ber.Thankyour majesty.[Exeunt. Flourish.

King.The Florentines andSenoysare by the ears;Have fought with equal fortune, and continueA braving war.

King.The Florentines andSenoysare by the ears;

Have fought with equal fortune, and continue

A braving war.

First Lord.So 'tis reported, sir.

King.Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it5A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,With caution, that the Florentine will move usFor speedy aid; wherein our dearest friendPrejudicates the business, and would seemTo have us make denial.

King.Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it

A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,

With caution, that the Florentine will move us

For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend

Prejudicates the business, and would seem

To have us make denial.

First Lord.His love and wisdom,10Approved so to your majesty, may pleadFor amplest credence.

First Lord.His love and wisdom,

Approved so to your majesty, may plead

For amplest credence.

King.He hath arm'd our answer,And Florence is denied before he comes:Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to seeThe Tuscan service, freely have they leaveTo stand on either part.

King.He hath arm'd our answer,

And Florence is denied before he comes:

Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see

The Tuscan service, freely have they leave

To stand on either part.

15Sec. Lord.It well mayserveA nursery to our gentry, who are sickFor breathing and exploit.

Sec. Lord.It well mayserve

A nursery to our gentry, who are sick

For breathing and exploit.

King.What's he comes here?

EnterBertram,Lafeu,andParolles.

First Lord.It isthe Count Rousillon, my good lord,Young Bertram.

First Lord.It isthe Count Rousillon, my good lord,

Young Bertram.

King.Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;20Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,Hath well composed thee.Thy father's moral partsMayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

King.Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;

Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,

Hath well composed thee.Thy father's moral parts

Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber.My thanks and duty are your majesty's.

King.I would I had that corporal soundness now,25As when thy father and myself in friendshipFirst tried our soldiership! He did look farInto the service of the time, and wasDiscipled of thebravest:he lasted long;But on us both did haggish age steal on,30And wore us out of act. It much repairs meTo talk of your good father. In his youthHe had the wit, which I canwellobserveTo-day in our young lords; but they may jestTill their own scorn return to them unnoted35Ere they canhide their levityinhonour:So like a courtier,contempt norbitternessWerein his pride or sharpness;if they were,His equal had awaked them; and his honour,Clockto itself, knew the true minute when40Exceptionbid him speak, and at this timeHis tongue obey'dhis hand:who were below himHe used as creatures ofanother place;And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,Making themproud ofhishumility,45In their poor praisehe humbled. Such a manMight be a copy to these younger times;Which, follow'd well, woulddemonstrate them nowBut goers backward.

King.I would I had that corporal soundness now,

As when thy father and myself in friendship

First tried our soldiership! He did look far

Into the service of the time, and was

Discipled of thebravest:he lasted long;

But on us both did haggish age steal on,

And wore us out of act. It much repairs me

To talk of your good father. In his youth

He had the wit, which I canwellobserve

To-day in our young lords; but they may jest

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted

Ere they canhide their levityinhonour:

So like a courtier,contempt norbitterness

Werein his pride or sharpness;if they were,

His equal had awaked them; and his honour,

Clockto itself, knew the true minute when

Exceptionbid him speak, and at this time

His tongue obey'dhis hand:who were below him

He used as creatures ofanother place;

And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,

Making themproud ofhishumility,

In their poor praisehe humbled. Such a man

Might be a copy to these younger times;

Which, follow'd well, woulddemonstrate them now

But goers backward.

Ber.His good remembrance, sir,Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;50So in approof lives not hisepitaphAs in your royal speech.

Ber.His good remembrance, sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;

So in approof lives not hisepitaph

As in your royal speech.

King.Would I were with him! He would always say—Methinks I hear him now; his plausive wordsHe scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,55To grow there and to bear,—'Let me not live,'—Thishis good melancholy oft began,On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,Whenitwas out,—'Let me not live,' quoth he,'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff60Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgements areMerefathersof their garments; whose constanciesExpire before their fashions. This he wish'd:I after him do after him wish too,65Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,I quickly were dissolved from my hive,To give somelabourersroom.

King.Would I were with him! He would always say—

Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words

He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,

To grow there and to bear,—'Let me not live,'—

Thishis good melancholy oft began,

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,

Whenitwas out,—'Let me not live,' quoth he,

'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff

Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses

All but new things disdain; whose judgements are

Merefathersof their garments; whose constancies

Expire before their fashions. This he wish'd:

I after him do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,

I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

To give somelabourersroom.

Sec. Lord.You are loved, sir;They that least lend it you shall lack you first.

Sec. Lord.You are loved, sir;

They that least lend it you shall lack you first.

King.I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,70Since the physician at your father's died?He was much famed.

King.I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,

Since the physician at your father's died?

He was much famed.

Ber.Some six months since, my lord.

King.If he were living, I would try him yet.Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me outWith several applications: nature and sickness75Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;My son's no dearer.

King.If he were living, I would try him yet.

Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out

With several applications: nature and sickness

Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;

My son's no dearer.

Ber.Thankyour majesty.[Exeunt. Flourish.

Ber.Thankyour majesty.

[Exeunt. Flourish.

LINENOTES:

[Scene ii.]Capell.Scene v.Pope.Flourish of cornets.]Flourish cornets. Ff.[1]Senoys]SiennoisorSienneseLloyd conj.the ears] Capell.th' earesFf.[3, 9, 18]First Lord.]1. Lord. Rowe. 1. Lo. G. Ff.[15, 67]Sec. Lord.]2. Lord. Rowe. 2. Lo. E. Ff.[15]well may]may wellF3 F4.[18]It is]F1 F4.It 'tisF2 F3.Rousillon] Pope.RosignollF1.RosillionF2.RossillionF3 F4.[21]Hath well composed thee]Compos'd thee wellPope.[28]bravest]brav'stPope.[32]well]illLong MS.[35]hide their levity in honour]vye their levity with his honourHanmer.hide their levity in humourLong MS.[35, 36]honour: So like a courtier,]Ff.honour, So like a courtier:Capell (Blackstone conj.).honour: No courtier-likeLloyd conj.[36]contempt nor]no contempt norRowe (ed. 1).no contempt orRowe (ed. 2).[37]in his pride or sharpness;]in him; pride or sharpness, Theobald (Warburton).in him, pride or sharpness;Capell.if they were]if there wereTheobald (Warburton).[39]Clock]BlockRowe (ed. 2).[40]Exception]ExceptionsTheobald.this]thatRowe.[41]his hand]the handJohnson conj.it's handCapell.his headLong MS.[42]another place]a brother-raceHanmer.[44]proud of]proud; andWarburton.[44, 45]humility, In ... praise he humbled]humility: He in ... praise, humbledBecket conj.[45]he humbled]be-humbledStaunton conj.[47]demonstrate them now]now demonstrate themPope.[50]So in approof lives not his]Approof so lives not in hisJohnson conj.So his approof lives not inCapell.[56]This]Ff.ThusPope.[58]it]witStaunton conj.[62]fathers]feathersTyrwhitt conj.parcelsWilliams conj.[67]labourers]labourerWarburton.You are] Capell.You'rF1 F2.You'reF3 F4.[76]Thank]Thanks toRowe.[Exeunt.] Exit. Ff.

[Scene ii.]Capell.Scene v.Pope.

Flourish of cornets.]Flourish cornets. Ff.

[1]Senoys]SiennoisorSienneseLloyd conj.

the ears] Capell.th' earesFf.

[3, 9, 18]First Lord.]1. Lord. Rowe. 1. Lo. G. Ff.

[15, 67]Sec. Lord.]2. Lord. Rowe. 2. Lo. E. Ff.

[15]well may]may wellF3 F4.

[18]It is]F1 F4.It 'tisF2 F3.

Rousillon] Pope.RosignollF1.RosillionF2.RossillionF3 F4.

[21]Hath well composed thee]Compos'd thee wellPope.

[28]bravest]brav'stPope.

[32]well]illLong MS.

[35]hide their levity in honour]vye their levity with his honourHanmer.hide their levity in humourLong MS.

[35, 36]honour: So like a courtier,]Ff.honour, So like a courtier:Capell (Blackstone conj.).honour: No courtier-likeLloyd conj.

[36]contempt nor]no contempt norRowe (ed. 1).no contempt orRowe (ed. 2).

[37]in his pride or sharpness;]in him; pride or sharpness, Theobald (Warburton).in him, pride or sharpness;Capell.

if they were]if there wereTheobald (Warburton).

[39]Clock]BlockRowe (ed. 2).

[40]Exception]ExceptionsTheobald.

this]thatRowe.

[41]his hand]the handJohnson conj.it's handCapell.his headLong MS.

[42]another place]a brother-raceHanmer.

[44]proud of]proud; andWarburton.

[44, 45]humility, In ... praise he humbled]humility: He in ... praise, humbledBecket conj.

[45]he humbled]be-humbledStaunton conj.

[47]demonstrate them now]now demonstrate themPope.

[50]So in approof lives not his]Approof so lives not in hisJohnson conj.So his approof lives not inCapell.

[56]This]Ff.ThusPope.

[58]it]witStaunton conj.

[62]fathers]feathersTyrwhitt conj.parcelsWilliams conj.

[67]labourers]labourerWarburton.

You are] Capell.You'rF1 F2.You'reF3 F4.

[76]Thank]Thanks toRowe.

[Exeunt.] Exit. Ff.

EnterCountess, Steward,andClown.

Count.I will nowhear; what say youof thisgentlewoman?Stew.Madam, the care I have had toevenyour content,I wish might be found in the calendar of my past5endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and makefoulthe clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves wepublish them.Count.What does this knave here? Get you gone,sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you I do not all10believe:'tismy slowness that I do not; for I know youlack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough tomake such knaveriesyours.Clo.'Tis not unknown to you, madam,I ama poorfellow.15Count.Well, sir.Clo.No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor,though many of the rich are damned: but, if Imay haveyour ladyship's good willto go tothe world, Isbel thewomanand I willdo as we may.20Count.Wilt thou needs be a beggar?Clo.I do beg your good will in this case.Count.In what case?Clo.In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is noheritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of25God till I have issueo'my body; for they saybarnesareblessings.Count.Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.Clo.My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven onby the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.30Count.Is this all your worship's reason?Clo.Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such asthey are.Count.May the world know them?Clo.I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you35and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry thatI may repent.Count.Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.Clo.I amout o'friends, madam; and I hope to havefriends for my wife's sake.40Count.Such friends are thine enemies, knave.Clo.You'reshallow,madam, ingreat friends; for theknaves come to do that for me, which I amawearyof. Hethat ears my land spares my team, and gives me leaveto inthe crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts45my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; hethatcherishesmy flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood;he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he thatkisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented tobe what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young50Charbonthe puritan and old Poysam the papist,howsome'ertheir hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one;they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.Count.Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumniousknave?55Clo.A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth thenext way:

Count.I will nowhear; what say youof thisgentlewoman?

Stew.Madam, the care I have had toevenyour content,I wish might be found in the calendar of my past5endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and makefoulthe clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves wepublish them.

Count.What does this knave here? Get you gone,sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you I do not all10believe:'tismy slowness that I do not; for I know youlack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough tomake such knaveriesyours.

Clo.'Tis not unknown to you, madam,I ama poorfellow.

15Count.Well, sir.

Clo.No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor,though many of the rich are damned: but, if Imay haveyour ladyship's good willto go tothe world, Isbel thewomanand I willdo as we may.

20Count.Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clo.I do beg your good will in this case.

Count.In what case?

Clo.In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is noheritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of25God till I have issueo'my body; for they saybarnesareblessings.

Count.Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clo.My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven onby the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

30Count.Is this all your worship's reason?

Clo.Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such asthey are.

Count.May the world know them?

Clo.I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you35and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry thatI may repent.

Count.Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

Clo.I amout o'friends, madam; and I hope to havefriends for my wife's sake.

40Count.Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Clo.You'reshallow,madam, ingreat friends; for theknaves come to do that for me, which I amawearyof. Hethat ears my land spares my team, and gives me leaveto inthe crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts45my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; hethatcherishesmy flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood;he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he thatkisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented tobe what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young50Charbonthe puritan and old Poysam the papist,howsome'ertheir hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one;they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count.Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumniousknave?

55Clo.A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth thenext way:

For Ithe ballad will repeat,Which men full true shall find;Your marriage comes by destiny,60Your cuckoo sings by kind.

For Ithe ballad will repeat,

Which men full true shall find;

Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Count.Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.Stew.May it please you, madam, that he bid Helencome to you: of her I am to speak.Count.Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with65her; Helen I mean.

Count.Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.

Stew.May it please you, madam, that he bid Helencome to you: of her I am to speak.

Count.Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with65her; Helen I mean.

Clo.Was this fair facethe cause, quoth she,Why the Grecians sacked Troy?Fond done, done fond,Was this King Priam'sjoy?70Withthat she sighed as she stood,With that she sighed as she stood,And gavethis sentence then;Among nine bad ifonebe good,Among nine bad if one be good,75There's yet one good in ten.

Clo.Was this fair facethe cause, quoth she,

Why the Grecians sacked Troy?

Fond done, done fond,

Was this King Priam'sjoy?

Withthat she sighed as she stood,

With that she sighed as she stood,

And gavethis sentence then;

Among nine bad ifonebe good,

Among nine bad if one be good,

There's yet one good in ten.

Count.What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song,sirrah.Clo.One good woman in ten, madam; which isapurifyingo' the song:would God would serve the world so all80the year! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I werethe parson: one in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a goodwoman born butoneevery blazing star, or at an earth-quake,'twould mend the lotterywell:a man maydrawhisheart out, erea'pluck one.85Count.You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I commandyou.Clo.That man should be atwoman'scommand, andyetno hurt done! Though honesty beno puritan, yet itwilldo no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over90the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: thebusiness is for Helen to come hither.[Exit.Count.Well, now.Stew.I know, madam, you love your gentlewomanentirely.95Count.Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me;and she herself, without otheradvantage, may lawfully maketitle to as much love as she finds: there is more owing herthan is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand.Stew.Madam, I was very late more near her than I100think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicateto herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, Idare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Hermatter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was nogoddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two105estates; Love no god, thatwouldnotextend hismight,only where qualities werelevel; ... queenof virgins, thatwould suffer her poorknightsurprised,without rescue inthe first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliveredin the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heardvirgin110exclaim in: which Iheldmy duty speedily to acquaint youwithal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concernsyou something to know it.Count.You have discharged thishonestly; keep it toyourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before,115which hung so tottering in the balance, that I couldneitherbelieve nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this inyour bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I willspeak with you further anon.[Exit Steward.EnterHelena.

Count.What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song,sirrah.

Clo.One good woman in ten, madam; which isapurifyingo' the song:would God would serve the world so all80the year! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I werethe parson: one in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a goodwoman born butoneevery blazing star, or at an earth-quake,'twould mend the lotterywell:a man maydrawhisheart out, erea'pluck one.

85Count.You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I commandyou.

Clo.That man should be atwoman'scommand, andyetno hurt done! Though honesty beno puritan, yet itwilldo no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over90the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: thebusiness is for Helen to come hither.[Exit.

Count.Well, now.

Stew.I know, madam, you love your gentlewomanentirely.

95Count.Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me;and she herself, without otheradvantage, may lawfully maketitle to as much love as she finds: there is more owing herthan is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand.

Stew.Madam, I was very late more near her than I100think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicateto herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, Idare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Hermatter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was nogoddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two105estates; Love no god, thatwouldnotextend hismight,only where qualities werelevel; ... queenof virgins, thatwould suffer her poorknightsurprised,without rescue inthe first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliveredin the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heardvirgin110exclaim in: which Iheldmy duty speedily to acquaint youwithal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concernsyou something to know it.

Count.You have discharged thishonestly; keep it toyourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before,115which hung so tottering in the balance, that I couldneitherbelieve nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this inyour bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I willspeak with you further anon.[Exit Steward.

EnterHelena.

Evenso it was with me when I was young:120Ifeverwe are nature's, these are ours; this thornDoth 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:125By our remembrances of days foregone,Such were our faults,orthen we thought themnone.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.130Count.Nay,a mother:Why not a mother? When Isaid 'a mother,'Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,'That you start at it? I say,I amyour mother;And put you in the catalogue of those135That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seenAdoption strives with nature; and choice breedsA native slip to us from foreignseeds:You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,Yet I express to you a mother's care:140God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy bloodTo say I am thy mother? What's the matter,That this distemper'd messenger of wet,Themany-colour'd Iris, rounds thineeye?Why?that youaremy daughter?Hel.That I am not.Count.I say, I am your mother.145Hel.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 I150His servant live, and will his vassal die:He must not be my brother.Count.Nor I yourmother?Hel.You are my mother, madam; would you were,—So that my lord your son were not my brother,—Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers,155I care no more for than I do for heaven,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-law:God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother160So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again?My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I seeThe mystery of yourloneliness, and findYour salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis grossYou love my son; invention is ashamed,165Against the proclamation of thy passion,To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeksConfess it,th' one to th'other; and thine eyesSeeitso grossly shown in thybehaviours,170That in their kind they speak it: only sinAnd hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?If it be so,you havewound a goodly clew;If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,175As heaven shall work in me forthineavail,To tell metruly.Hel.Good madam, 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,180Whereof the world takes note: come, come,discloseThe state of your affection; for your passionsHave to the full appeach'd.Hel.Then, I confess,Here on my knee, before highheavenand you,Thatbefore you, and next unto high heaven,185I love your son.My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:Be not offended; for it hurts not himThat he is loved of me: I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suit;190Nor 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 thiscaptiousandinteniblesieve,I still pour in thewatersof my love,195And lack not tolosestill: thus, Indian-like,Religious in mine error, I adoreThe sun, that looks upon his worshipper,But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,Let not your hate encounter with my love200For loving where you do: but if yourself,Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,Did ever in so true a flame oflikingWishchastely and love dearly, that your DianWas both herself and love; O, then, give pity205To her, whose state is such,thatcannot chooseBut lend and give where she is sure to lose;That seeks not to find thathersearch 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.210Count.Wherefore?tell true.Hel.I willtell truth; by grace itself I swear.You know my father left me some prescriptionsOf rare and proved effects, such as his readingAndmanifestexperience had collected215For general sovereignty; and that he will'd meIn heedfull'st 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,220To cure the desperatelanguishingswhereofThe king is render'd lost.Count.This was your motiveFor Paris, was it? speak.Hel.My lord your son made me to think of this;Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king,225Had from the conversation of my thoughtsHaplybeen absent then.Count.But think you, Helen,If you should tender your supposed aid,He would receive it? he and his physiciansAre of a mind; he,that they cannot help him,230They, that theycannot help: how shall they creditA poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left offThe danger to itself?Hel.There's somethingin't,More than my father's skill, which was the greatest235Of his profession, that his good receiptShall for my legacy be sanctifiedBy theluckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honourBut give me leaveto trysuccess, I'd ventureThewell-lost life of mineon hisGrace's cureBy such a dayandhour.240Count.Dost them believe't?Hel.Ay, madam, knowingly.Count.Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,Means andattendantsand my loving greetingsTo those of mine in court: I'll stay at home245And pray God's blessingintothy attempt:Be goneto-morrow; and be sure of this,What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.[Exeunt.

Evenso it was with me when I was young:

Ifeverwe 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 foregone,

Such were our faults,orthen we thought themnone.

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.

Count.You know, Helen,

I am a mother to you.

Hel.Mine honourable mistress.

130Count.Nay,a mother:Why not a mother? When Isaid 'a mother,'Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,'That you start at it? I say,I amyour mother;And put you in the catalogue of those135That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seenAdoption strives with nature; and choice breedsA native slip to us from foreignseeds:You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,Yet I express to you a mother's care:140God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy bloodTo say I am thy mother? What's the matter,That this distemper'd messenger of wet,Themany-colour'd Iris, rounds thineeye?Why?that youaremy daughter?

Count.Nay,a mother:

Why not a mother? When Isaid 'a mother,'

Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,'

That you start at it? I say,I amyour 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 foreignseeds:

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 distemper'd messenger of wet,

Themany-colour'd Iris, rounds thineeye?

Why?that youaremy daughter?

Hel.That I am not.

Count.I say, I am your mother.

145Hel.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 I150His servant live, and will his vassal die:He must not be my brother.

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 yourmother?

Hel.You are my mother, madam; would you were,—So that my lord your son were not my brother,—Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers,155I care no more for than I do for heaven,So I were not his sister.Can't no other,But I your daughter, he must be my brother?

Hel.You are my mother, madam; would you were,—

So that my lord your son were not my brother,—

Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers,

I care no more for than I do for heaven,

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-law:God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother160So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again?My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I seeThe mystery of yourloneliness, and findYour salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis grossYou love my son; invention is ashamed,165Against the proclamation of thy passion,To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeksConfess it,th' one to th'other; and thine eyesSeeitso grossly shown in thybehaviours,170That in their kind they speak it: only sinAnd hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?If it be so,you havewound a goodly clew;If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,175As heaven shall work in me forthineavail,To tell metruly.

Count.Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law:

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 yourloneliness, and find

Your salt tears' head: 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,th' one to th'other; and thine eyes

Seeitso grossly shown in thybehaviours,

That in their kind 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 havewound a goodly clew;

If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,

As heaven shall work in me forthineavail,

To tell metruly.

Hel.Good madam, 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,180Whereof the world takes note: come, come,discloseThe state of your affection; for your passionsHave to the full appeach'd.

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 highheavenand you,Thatbefore you, and next unto high heaven,185I love your son.My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:Be not offended; for it hurts not himThat he is loved of me: I follow him notBy any token of presumptuous suit;190Nor 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 thiscaptiousandinteniblesieve,I still pour in thewatersof my love,195And lack not tolosestill: thus, Indian-like,Religious in mine error, I adoreThe sun, that looks upon his worshipper,But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,Let not your hate encounter with my love200For loving where you do: but if yourself,Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,Did ever in so true a flame oflikingWishchastely and love dearly, that your DianWas both herself and love; O, then, give pity205To her, whose state is such,thatcannot chooseBut lend and give where she is sure to lose;That seeks not to find thathersearch implies,But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies!

Hel.Then, I confess,

Here on my knee, before highheavenand you,

Thatbefore 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 thiscaptiousandinteniblesieve,

I still pour in thewatersof my love,

And lack not tolosestill: thus, Indian-like,

Religious in mine error, I adore

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 ofliking

Wishchastely and love dearly, that your Dian

Was both herself and love; O, then, give pity

To her, whose state is such,thatcannot choose

But lend and give where she is sure to lose;

That seeks not to find thathersearch implies,

But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies!

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

Count.Had you not lately an intent,—speak truly,—

To go to Paris?

Hel.Madam, I had.

210Count.Wherefore?tell true.

Count.Wherefore?tell true.

Hel.I willtell truth; by grace itself I swear.You know my father left me some prescriptionsOf rare and proved effects, such as his readingAndmanifestexperience had collected215For general sovereignty; and that he will'd meIn heedfull'st 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,220To cure the desperatelanguishingswhereofThe king is render'd lost.

Hel.I willtell truth; by grace itself I swear.

You know my father left me some prescriptions

Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading

Andmanifestexperience had collected

For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me

In heedfull'st 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 desperatelanguishingswhereof

The king is render'd lost.

Count.This was your motiveFor Paris, was it? speak.

Count.This was your motive

For Paris, was it? speak.

Hel.My lord your son made me to think of this;Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king,225Had from the conversation of my thoughtsHaplybeen absent then.

Hel.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

Haplybeen absent then.

Count.But think you, Helen,If you should tender your supposed aid,He would receive it? he and his physiciansAre of a mind; he,that they cannot help him,230They, that theycannot help: how shall they creditA poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left offThe danger to itself?

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 theycannot 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 somethingin't,More than my father's skill, which was the greatest235Of his profession, that his good receiptShall for my legacy be sanctifiedBy theluckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honourBut give me leaveto trysuccess, I'd ventureThewell-lost life of mineon hisGrace's cureBy such a dayandhour.

Hel.There's somethingin't,

More than my father's skill, which was the greatest

Of his profession, that his good receipt

Shall for my legacy be sanctified

By theluckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour

But give me leaveto trysuccess, I'd venture

Thewell-lost life of mineon hisGrace's cure

By such a dayandhour.

240Count.Dost them believe't?

Count.Dost them believe't?

Hel.Ay, madam, knowingly.

Count.Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,Means andattendantsand my loving greetingsTo those of mine in court: I'll stay at home245And pray God's blessingintothy attempt:Be goneto-morrow; and be sure of this,What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.[Exeunt.

Count.Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,

Means andattendantsand my loving greetings

To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home

And pray God's blessingintothy attempt:

Be goneto-morrow; and be sure of this,

What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.[Exeunt.

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