Part 11

_Count._ You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither 115 believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. [_Exit Steward._

_Enter_ HELENA.

Even so it was with me when I was young: If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn 120 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: By our remembrances of days foregone, 125 Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on't: I observe her now.

_Hel._ What is your pleasure, madam?

_Count._ You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.

_Hel._ Mine honourable mistress.

_Count._ Nay, a mother: 130 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 135 Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds: You ne'er oppress'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 140 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.

_Count._ I say, I am your mother.

_Hel._ Pardon, madam; 145 The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: 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 die: 150 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 son were not my brother,-- Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, I care no more for than I do for heaven, 155 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 So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? 160 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 You love my son; invention is ashamed, Against the proclamation of thy passion, 165 To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeks Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, That in their kind they speak it: only sin 170 And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 175 To tell me truly.

_Hel._ Good madam, pardon me!

_Count._ Do you love my son?

_Hel._ Your pardon, noble mistress!

_Count._ Love you my son?

_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 180 The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd.

_Hel._ Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son. 185 My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Be not offended; for it hurts not him That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; 190 Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive 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, 195 Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, 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, 200 Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love; O, then, give pity To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 205 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 she dies!

_Count._ Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,-- To go to Paris?

_Hel._ Madam, I had.

_Count._ Wherefore? tell true. 210

_Hel._ I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me 215 In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, More than they were in note: amongst the rest, There is a remedy, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof 220 The king is render'd lost.

_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 225 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, They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit 230 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 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 235 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 The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure By such a day and hour.

_Count._ Dost them believe't? 240

_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 into thy attempt: 245 Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [_Exeunt._

LINENOTES:

## SCENE III.] SCENE VI. Pope.

[1] _hear; what say you_] Theobald. _heare, what say you_ Ff. _hear what you say_ Capell.

_gentlewoman?_] F4. _gentlewoman._ F1 F2 F3.

[3] _even_] _win_ Collier conj.

[6] _foul_] _out_ Rowe (ed. 2).

[10] _'tis_] _it is_ S. Walker conj., reading lines 9-12 as verse, ending _complaints ... believe ... them ... make ... yours._

[12] _yours_] _yare_ Warburton conj.

[13] _I am_] _that I am_ Capell.

[17] _may have_] F1. _have_ F2 F3 F4.

[18] _to go to_] _to go into_ Long MS.

[18, 19] _the woman_] _your woman_ Grant White.

[19] _and I will_] F2 F3 F4. _and w will_ F1. _and we will_ Collier.

[25] _o'_] Rowe (ed. 2). _a_ Ff. _of_ Rann.

_barnes_] F1. _bearns_ F2. _barns_ F3 F4.

[38] _out o'_] Capell. _out a_ F1 F2 F3. _out of_ F4.

[41] _You're_] Capell. _Y'are_ Ff. _You are_ Steevens.

_madam, in_] _madam; e'en_ Hanmer. _madam, my_ Tyrwhitt conj.

[42] _aweary_] _weary_ Rowe.

[43] _to in_] F4. _to Inne_ F1 F2 F3.

[46] _cherishes_] F1. _cherisheth_ F2 F3 F4.

[50] _Charbon ... Poysam_] See note (III).

_howsome'er_] _how somere_ F1 F2. _howsomeere_ F3. _howsomere_ F4. _howsoe'er_ Pope.

[57-60] _For I ... kind_] Printed as verse first in Rowe (ed. 2).

[66] _the cause, quoth she_] _quoth she, the cause_ Collier (Collier MS.).

[68] _Fond done, done fond_] omitted by Pope.

[68, 69] _done find ... joy?_] _done, fond ... joy,_ F1 F2. _fond done;--for Paris he ... joy._ Theobald (Warburton). _fond done! but Paris he ... joy,_ Capell conj. _done fond, good sooth, it was: ... joy?_ Collier (Collier MS.). _For it undone, undone, quoth he, ... joy._ Rann (Heath conj.).

[70, 71] _With ... stood_] _With ... stood,_ bis. Ff (bis in italics).

[71] Omitted by Pope.

[72-75] _And gave ... ten_] Printed first as verse in Rowe (ed. 2).

[73, 74] _one_] _none_ Capell conj.

[74] Omitted by Pope.

[78] _a_] F1 F2. _the_ F3 F4.

[79] _o' the_] Capell. _o' th'_ Rowe (ed. 2). _ath'_ F1 F2. _a'th_ F3 F4.

_song_] _song and mending of the sex_ Collier (Collier MS. _o' the_).

[82] _one_] Collier (Collier MS.). _ore_ F1 F2. _o're_ F3 F4. _o'er_ Rowe. om. Pope. _or_ Capell. _on_ Rann. _ere_ Collier (ed. 1). _for_ Harness. _'fore_ Staunton. _at_ Halliwell conj.

[83] _well_] _wheel_ Malone conj.

_draw_] _pray_ Rowe.

[84] _a'_] _he_ Rowe (ed. 2).

[86] _you._] Pope, _you?_ Ff.

[87] _woman's_] F1. _a woman's_ F2 F3 F4.

[87, 88] _and yet_] F1 F2. _and get_ F3 F4.

[88] _no puritan_] _a puritan_ Rann. (Tyrwhitt conj.).

[89] _do no hurt_] _do what is enjoined_ Malone conj.

[96] _advantage_] _advantages_ Rowe.

[105] _would_] _should_ Capell.

_not_] om. Long MS.

_might, only_] F4. _might onelie,_ F1 F2. _might onely_ F3.

[106] _level; ... queen_] _levell, Queene_ F1 F2. _levell: Queen_ F3F4. _level: Complain'd against the Queen_ Rowe. _level; Diana no queen_ Theobald. See note (IV).

[107] _knight_] _spright_ Warburton conj.

_surprised_] _to be surpris'd_ Rowe.

[107, 108] _without rescue in the first assault,_] _in the first assault, without rescue_ Capell.

[109] _virgin_] _a virgin_ Pope.

[110] _held_] _held it_ Rowe.

[113] _honestly_] _honesty_ F3 F4.

[115] _neither_] F1. _never_ F2 F3 F4.

[118] Enter H.] Enter Hellen. Ff. Enter H. Singer (after line 126). See note (V).

[119] SCENE VII. Pope.

_Even_] Old Cou. _Even_ Ff.

[120] _ever_] om. Pope. _e'er_ Edd. conj.

[126] _Such were our faults, or_] Ff. _Such-were our faults, tho'_ Hanmer. _Such were our faults,--O!_ Johnson (Warburton conj.). _Search we out faults, for_ Collier MS.

_then ... them_] _them ... then_ Staunton.

[128] _You know, Helen_] _Helen, you know_ Pope.

[130, 131] _Nay ... said 'a mother'_] As one line in Ff.

[131] _said 'a mother'_] _said mother_ F3 F4.

[133] _I am_] Ff. _I'm_ Pope.

[137] _seeds_] _soil_ Anon. conj.

[143] _The_] _This_ S. Walker conj.

_eye_] _eyes_ Pope.

[144] _Why?_] --_Why_, Ff. _Why_,-- Rowe.

_are_] _art_ F2.

[151] _mother?_] Rowe (ed. 2). _mother._ Ff.

[155] _I care ... heaven_] _I cannot ask for more than that of heav'n_ Hanmer. _I can no more fear, than I do fear heav'n_ Warburton. _I cannot more fear than I do fear heav'n_ Heath conj. _I'd care no more for't than I do for heaven_ Capell. _I care would ... heaven or I crave would ... heaven_ Mason conj. _I care no more for than you do, 'fore heaven_ Becker conj. [Aside] _I care no more for than I do for heaven_ Staunton conj.

[156, 157] _Can't no other, But I ... he ... brother?_] Theobald. _Cant no other, But I ... he ... brother._ Ff. _Can't no other? But I ... he ... brother._ Pope. _Can't be no other Way I ... but he ... brother?_ Hanmer.

[162] _loneliness_] Theobald. _loveliness_ Ff. _lowliness_ Hall conj. _liveliness_ Becket conj.]

[168] _th' one to th'_] Knight. _'ton tooth to th'_ F1. _'ton to th'_ F2. _'tone to th'_ F3 F4. _one to th'_ Rowe.

[169] _it_] _it is_ F2.

_behaviours_] _behaviour_ F3 F4.

[173] _you have_] _you've_ Pope.

[175] _thine_] F1. _mine_ F2 F3 F4.

[176] _truly_] _true_ Hanmer.

[180] _disclose_] F3 F4. _disclose:_ F1 F2.

[184] _heaven_] F1. _heavens_ F2 F3 F4.

[184, 185] _That ... son_] As in Pope. Printed as one line in Ff.

[193] _captious_] _carious_ Johnson conj. _cap'cious_ Farmer conj. _copious_ Jackson conj.

_intenible_] _intemible_ F1. _inteemible_ Nicholson conj.

[194] _waters_] _water_ Rowe.

[195] _lose_] F4. _loose_ F1 F2 F3. _love_ Tyrwhitt conj.

[202] _liking_] F1. _living_ F2. _loving_ F3 F4.

[203] _Wish ... dearly_] _Love dearly and wish chastely_ Malone conj.

[205] _that_] _she_ Hanmer.

[207] _her_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _which_ Rowe.

[210] _tell true_] om. Steevens conj.

[211] _tell truth_] F1. _tell true_ F2 F3 F4. _tell you true_ Capell (corrected in note).

[214] _manifest_] _manifold_ Collier (Long MS.).

[220] _languishings_ Ff. _languishes_ Reed (1803).

[226] _Haply_] Pope. _Happily_ Ff.

[229] _that they cannot help him_] _that he can't be help'd_ Hanmer. _that they cannot help_ Capell conj. _that they cannot heal him_ S. Walker conj.

[230] _cannot help_] _can't help him_ Capell conj. _cannot cure_ Bailey conj.

[233] _in't_] _hints_ Hanmer (Warburton).

[237] _By the_] _Byth'_ F1 F2 F3. _By th'_ F4.

[238] _to try_] F1. _to_ F2 F3 F4. _for the_ Rowe.

[239] _The_] _This_ Hanmer.

_on his_] _on's_ S. Walker conj.

[240] _and_] _an_ F1.

[243] _attendants_] _attendance_ S. Walker conj.

[245] _into_] F1 F2. _unto_ F3 F4. _upon_ Hanmer.

[246] _Be gone_] F3 F4. _Begon_ F1 F2.

## ACT II.

## SCENE I. _Paris._ _The_ KING'S _palace_.

_Flourish of cornets. Enter the_ KING, _attended with divers young_ Lords _taking leave for the Florentine war_; BERTRAM, _and_ PAROLLES.

_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 'tis received, And is enough for both.

_First Lord._ 'Tis our hope, sir, 5 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; 10 Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,-- Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy,--see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when 15 The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell.

_Sec. 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, 20 If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve.

_Both._ Our hearts receive your warnings.

_King._ Farewell. Come hither to me. [_Exit._

_First Lord._ O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

_Par._ 'Tis not his fault, the spark.

_Sec. Lord._ O, 'tis brave wars! 25

_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't, boy, steal away bravely.

_Ber._ I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 30 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.

_First Lord._ There's honour in the theft.

_Par._ Commit it, count.

_Sec. Lord._ I am your accessary; and so, farewell. 35

_Ber._ I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.

_First Lord._ Farewell, captain.

_Sec. Lord._ Sweet Monsieur Parolles!

_Par._ Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find 40 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 for me.

_First Lord._ We shall, noble captain. [_Exeunt Lords._ 45

_Par._ Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do?

_Ber._ Stay: the king.

_Re-enter_ KING.

_Par._ [_Aside to Ber._] Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them: for they 50 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. 55

_Par._ Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [_Exeunt Bertram and Parolles._

_Enter_ LAFEU.

_Laf._ [_Kneeling_] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings.

_King._ I'll fee thee to stand up.

_Laf._ Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon. 60 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._ Good faith, across: but, my good lord, 'tis thus; 65 Will you be cured of your infirmity?

_King._ No.

_Laf._ O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine 70 That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand, 75 And write to her a love-line.

_King._ What 'her' is this?

_Laf._ Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived, If you will see her: now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke 80 With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her, For that is her demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me.

_King._ Now, good Lafeu, 85 Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wondering how thou took'st it.

_Laf._ Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [_Exit._

_King._ Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. 90

_Re-enter_ LAFEU, _with_ HELENA.

_Laf._ Nay, come your ways.

_King._ This haste hath wings indeed.

_Laf._ Nay, come your ways; This is his majesty, say your mind to him: A traitor you do look like; but such traitors His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle, 95 That dare leave two together; fare you well. [_Exit._

_King._ Now, fair one, does your business follow us?

_Hel._ Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father; In what he did profess, well found.

_King._ I knew him. 100

_Hel._ The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, 105 He bade me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so: And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause, wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, 110 I come to tender it and my appliance, With all bound humbleness.

_King._ We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, and The congregated college have concluded 115 That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidible estate; I say we must not So stain our judgement, or corrupt our hope. To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so 120 Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.

_Hel._ My duty, then, shall pay me for my pains: I will no more enforce mine office on you; Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 125 A modest one, to bear me back again.

_King._ I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live: But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part; 130 I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

_Hel._ What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister: 135 So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown, When judges have been babes; great floods have flown From simple sources; and great seas have dried, When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 140 Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.

_King._ I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid: Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. 145

_Hel._ Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: It is not so with Him that all things knows, As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. 150 Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think, and think I know most sure, 155 My art is not past power, nor you past cure.

_King._ Art thou so confident? within what space Hopest thou my cure?

_Hel._ The great'st grace lending grace, Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring; 160 Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp; Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 165 Health shall live free, and sickness freely die.

_King._ Upon thy certainty and confidence What darest thou venture?

_Hel._ Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name 170 Sear'd otherwise, ne worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended.

_King._ Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerful sound within an organ weak: And what impossibility would slay 175 In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate, Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call: 180 Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die.

_Hel._ If I break time, or flinch in property 185 Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee; But, if I help, what do you promise me?

_King._ Make thy demand.

_Hel._ But will you make it even?

_King._ Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. 190

_Hel._ Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate 195 With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.