Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, Methought you saw a serpent: What's in mother, That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often seen, That I am not. Count. I say, I am your mother. Count. 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, God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, (1) i. e. I care as much for: I wish it equally (2) Contend. My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I see To tell me truly. Hel. Good madam, pardon me! 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, dis close The state of your affection; for your passions Hel. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 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 lov'd of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him; (1) The source, the cause of your grief. Yet, in this captious and intenable sieve, The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian Hcl. 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 manifest experience, had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me Count. For Paris, was it? speak. This was your motive Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; (1) i. e. Whose respectable conduct in age proves that you were no less virtuous when young. (2) i. e. Venus. (3) Receipts in which greater virtues were en closed than appeared. Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, If Count. But think you, Helen, you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, 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 sanctified 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 (1) Exhausted of their skill. ACT II. SCENE I-Paris. A room in the King's palace. Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles, and attendants. King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike pr n ciples, Do not throw from you:-and you, my lord, fare well: Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, And is enough for both. 1 Lord. It 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 Will not confess he owes the malady 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, Before Both. you serve.3 Our hearts receive your warnings. (1) i. e. Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman empire. (2) Seeker, inquirer. (3) Be not captives before you are soldiers. |