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is fick on't ; I observe her now. Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Cou. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
HEL, Mine honourable mistress.
Cou. Nay, a mother ;
Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought, you saw a ferpent : What's in mother,
you ftart 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 feeds :
You ne'er opprefl'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,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why? that you are my daughter?
Hel. “That I am not.
Cou. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, madam;
The count Rofillion cannot be my
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 dye :
He must not be my brother.
Cou. Nor I
mother. Her. You are my mother, madam,- Would you were, So that
son were not my
: Or, were you both our mothers,
I'd care no more for't than I do for heaven,
So I were not his fifter: Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ?
Cou. 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 your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross,
invention is alham'd,
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 grofly shown in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it; only fin,
And hellish obstinacy tye thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected : Speak, is't fo?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly,
Hel. Good madam, pardon me!
HEL. Your pardon, noble mistress!
Cou. Love you my son ?
Hel. Do not you love him, madam ?
Gou. 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 Ton my knee, before high heaven, and you,
That, before you, and next unto high heaven,
My friends were poor, but honeft ; fo's my
Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is lov'd 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 Mould be:
I know, I love in vain, ftrive 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
The sun, that looks upon his worshiper,
But knows of him no more. My deareft madam,
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
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 the dies.
Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, To go to Paris?
HEL. Madam, I had.
Cou. Wherefore ? Tell true.
Hel. I will tell you true ; by grace itself, I swear. You know, my father left me some prescriptions, Of rare, and prov'd effects, such as his reading, And manifeft experience, had collected For general sovereignty; and that he willd me In heedfullest reservation to bestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note : among'st the rest, There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, To cure the desperate languishings, whereof The king is render'd loft.
Cou. This was your motive For Paris, was it, speak ?
HEL. My lord your fon made me to think of this;
Else Paris, and the med'cine, and the king,
Had, from the conversation of my thoughts,
Haply, been absent then.
Cou. 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,
Emboweld 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 fanctify'd
By the luckiest stars in heaven: 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.
Cou. Doft thou believe't ?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.
Cou. 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.
SCENEI. Paris. A Room in the King's Palace.
Flourish. Enter King, attended; divers young
Lords, taking leave for the Florentine War;
BERTRAM, and PAROLLES.
Kin. Farewel, young lords ; these warlike principles
Do not throw from you..and you, my lords, farewel:
Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as ’tis receiv'd,
And is enough for both.
1. L. 'Tis our hope, sir,
After well-enter'd foldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.
Kin. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart
Will not confess, he owes the malady
That doth my life besiege. Farewel, young lords ;
Whether I live, or dye, be you
Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy
(Those bated, that inherit but the fail
Of the last monarchy) see, that you come