Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth. By our remembrances of days foregone Search we out faults, for2 then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on 't: I observe her now. Hel. What is your pleasure, madam? I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. You know, Helen, Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, That were enwombed mine. 'T is often seen, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? Hel. Count. I say, I am your mother. That I am not. Pardon, madam ; The count Rousillon cannot be my brother; Count. Nor I your mother? 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 mother, 1 This stage direction is given six lines above: in f. e. our faults; or, &c. in f. e. 2 Such were So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? To say, thou dost not: therefore, tell me true; That truth should be suspected. Speak, is 't so? Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress. Count. Love you my son? 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 Hel. I love your son. [Rising." My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: By any token of presumptuous suit ; The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 1 2 Not in f. e. Let not your hate encounter with my love, Hel. Count. Madam, I had. Wherefore? tell true. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me More than they were in note. Amongst the rest, To cure the desperate languishings whereof Count. For Paris, was it? speak. This was your motive Hel. My lord, your son, made me to think of this; Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 'fad, 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, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself? Hel. There's something in 't, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified 1 manifest: in fe. By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 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 unto thy attempt. Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt. SCENE 1-Paris. Flourish. ACT II. A Room in the KING'S Palace. Enter KING, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lords. These warlike principles Do not throw from you :—and you, my lords, farewell.— Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 't is receiv'd, And is enough for both. 1 Lord. "T 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 That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; 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, 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 spark. 2 Lord. O, 't is 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 "'t is too early." Par. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with. 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 Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek: it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live, and observe his reports of me. 2 Lord. We shall, noble captain. [Exeunt Lords. Par. Mars dote on you for his novices!-What will you do? [Seeing him rise. Ber. Stay; the kingPar. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the lists of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time: there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated farewell. Ber. And I will do so. |