Hel.

Count. I fay, I am your mother.
Hel.

That I am not.

Pardon, madam;

The count Roufillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My mafter, my dear lord he is; and I
His fervant live, and will his vaffal die :
He must not be my brother.

Count.

Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'Would you were (So that my lord, your fon, 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 fifter: 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, So ftrive upon your pulfe: What, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I fee The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your falt tears' head. Now to all fenfe 'tis grofs, You love my fon; invention is afham'd, Against the proclamation of thy paffion, To fay, thou doft not: therefore tell me true: But tell me then, 'tis fo:-for, look, thy cheeks Confefs it, one to the other; and thine eyes See it fo grossly fhone in thy behaviours, That in their kind they speak it; only fin And hellish obftinacy tie thy tongue, That truth thould be fufpected: Speak, is't fo? If it be fo, you have wound a goodly clue; If it be not, forfwear't: howe'er, I charge thee,

As

Thurston del.

Hopwood faup.

).

Alls Well that Ends Well As 12 sene 28

Helena, Then I confers here on my knee before ligh Heaven &&

・you so.

As heaven fhall work in me for thine avail,

To tell me truly.

Hel.
Good madam, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my fon?
Hel.

Count. Love you my fon?

Hel.

Your pardon, noble mistress!

Do not you love him, madam ?

Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, difclofe The state of your affection; for your paffions

Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel.

Then, I confefs,

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your fon :-

love:

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 prefumptuous fuit;
Nor would I have him, till I do deferve him
Yet never know how that defert fhould 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 lofe 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 not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do: but, if yourself,
Whofe aged honour cites a vituous youth,
Did ever, in fo true a flame of liking,
With chaftly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and Love; O then, give pity
C

Το

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

Hel.

Count.

Madam, I had.

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 manifeft experience, had collected

For general fovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfulleft refervation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note: amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approv'd, fet down,
To cure the defperate languishings, whereof
The king is render'd loft.

Count.

For Paris, was it? speak.

This was your motive

Hel. My lord, your fon made me to think of this; Elfe Paris, and the medicine, and the king,

Had, from the converfation 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 phyficians

Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,

They, that they cannot help: How fhall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,

Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off

The danger to itself ?

Hel. There's fomething hints,