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Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say, thou doft not; therefore tell me true ;
But tell me then, 'tis so. For, look, thy checks
Confess it one to th’other; and thine eyes
See it so grolly shown in thy behaviour,
That in their kind they speak it: only fin
And hellifh obftinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be fufpe&ed; speak, is't so ?
If it be not, you've wound a goodly clew:
If it be fo, forswear't; howe'er, I charge thee,
As heav'n fhall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Hel. Good'Madam, pardon me.
Count. Do

you
love
my

fon?
Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress.
Count. Love you my

fon?
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 heav'ns and you,
That before

you, and next unto high heav'n,
I love
your

fon:
My friends were poor, but honeft; so's my love ;
Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is loy'd of me; I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous fuit;
Nor would I have him, 'till I do deserve him 1;
Yet never know, how that desert shall be.
I know, I love in vain; strive against hope ;
Yet, in this captious and intenible fieve,
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose ftill; thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore
The fun that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest Madam,

Let

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Let not your hate incounter 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
Wilh chaftly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love ; O then, give pity
To her, whose state is fuch, that cannot chuse
But lend, and give, where she is sure to lose ;
That seeks not to find that, which search implies ;
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly, where she dics.

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

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

Hel. I will tell truth; by Grace itself, I swear.
You know, my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prov'd effects ; such as his reading
And manifelt experience had colle&ted
For general fou'reignty; and that he will'd me,
In heedfull'ft reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note: amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approvod, fet down,
To cure the desperate languishings, whereof
The King is render'd loft.
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, Had from the conversation of my thoughts, Haply been absent then.

Corint. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your * fuppofed 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, *----- Jupposed aid,} supposed for propping, supporting.

Em

Embowell'd of their do&rine, have left off
The danger to itself?

Hel. There's something hints
More than my father's kill, (which was the great'st
Of his profeffion,) that his good receipt
Shall for my legacy be fančtified
By th' luckieft ftars in heav'n; and, would your honour
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-loft life of mine on his Grace's Cure,
By such a day and hour.

Count. Dost thou beliey'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 ftay at home,
And pray God's blefling into thy attempt :
Begone, to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.

(Exeunt.

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A C T II.

S CE N E I..

The Court of FRANCE. Enter the King, with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles.

Flourish Cornets.

KING. FARI AREWEL, young Lords: these warlike prin

ciples Do not throw from you: you, my Lords, farewel ; Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv’d, And is enough for both.

I Lord.

i Lord. 'Tis 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 confefs, it owns the malady That doth my life befiege; farewel, young Lords ; Whether I live or die, be you the fons Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy (Those 'bated, that inherit but the Fall Of the last Monarchy;) fee, that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest Queftant shrinks, find what you seek, That Fame may cry you loud: I say, farewel.

2 Lord. Health at your bidding serve your Majesty !

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; They say, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve. Both. Our hearts receive

eive your warnings. King. Farewel. Come hither to me. (To Attendants.

(Exit. i Lord. Oh, my sweet Lord, that you will stay

behind us! Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark2 Lord. Oh, '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. Shall I stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creeking my shoes on the plain masonry,
"Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with ? by heav'n I'll steal away.

i Lorit. There's lionour in the thest.
Par. Commit it, Count.
2 Lord. I ain your accessary, and so farewel.

Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body.

i Lord.

1 Lord. Farewel, 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 cap-
tain Spurio with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here
on his finifter cheek; it was this very sword en-
trench'd it; fay to him, I live, and observe his re-
ports of me.
2 Lord. We shall, noble captain.

[ye do? Par. Mars doat on you for his novices! what will Ber. Stay; the King

Exeunt Lords. Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble Lords, you have restrain’d yourself within the list of too cold an adieu; be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there, to mufter true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most receiv'd star; and tho' the devil lead the measure, such are to be follow'd: after them, and take a more dilated farewel.

Ber. And I will do so.

Par. Worthy fellows, and like to prove moft sinewy sword-men.

S CE N E II.
Enter the King, and Lafeu.

my
King. I'll fee thee to stand up:
Laf. Then here's a man stands, that hath bought

his pardon.
I would, you had kneel'd, my Lord; to ask me mercy;
And that at my bidding you could so stand up.

King. I would, I had; so I had broke thy pate,
And ask'd thee mercy for't.
Laf. Goodfaith, across: -but, my good Lord,

'tis thus;
Will you be cur’d of your infirmity ?
King. No.

Laf.

Laf. PARDON, my Lord, for me and for

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