heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of heaven, till I have issue of my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings. Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clown. [Sings.] "Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, "Why the Grecians sacked Troy? "Fond done, done fond; for Paris he, "There's yet one good in ten." Count. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. Clown. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: 'Would heaven would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tithewoman, if I were the parson: One in ten, quoth'a! an we might have a good woman born but every blazing star, or at an earthqnake, 'twould mend the lottery well; a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one. Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. Clown. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-I am going, forsooth. The business is, for Helen to come hither.-[Sings.] Among nine bad, if one be good, &c. [Exit Clown, L. Count. Well, now? Stew. I know madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. 'Faith, I do: her father bequeath'd her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her, than is paid; and more shall be paid her, than she'll demand. Stew. Madam, I was, very late, more near her, than, I think, she wish'd me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears. Her matter was, she lov'd your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level. This she deliver❜d in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You have discharg'd this honestly; keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods inform'd me of this before. -She is coming. 'Pray you, leave me. I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward, R. Her eye is sick on't; Lobserve her now: E'en so it was with me, when I was young. Enter HELENA, L. Hel. What is your pleasure, madam? I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Count. Nay, a mother: Heaven's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood Hel. That I'm not. Count. I say, I am your mother. The count Rousillon cannot be my brother, Count. Nor I your mother? Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law; Heaven 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, If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue; If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, To tell me truly. Hel. Good madam, pardon me. Count. Do you love my son ? Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? Count. Go not about: Come, come, disclose B 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: That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not Nor would I have him, 'till I do deserve him; Hel. My dearest madam, [Rises. Let not your hate encounter with my love, Hel. Madam, I had. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. 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, 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 Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest 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 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, [Crosses L. [Exit Countess, 1. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit, R. END OF ACT I. ACT II. SCENE I.-France.-An Antechamber in the King's Palace. Enter LEFEU, and BERTRAM, R. Lef. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not this vender of big words, this captain Paroles, a soldier. Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. Lef. You have it from his own deliverance?— Ber. And by other warranted testimony. Lef. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting. Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant.. Lef. I have then sinn'd against his experience, and transgress'd against his valour: and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. [Flourish of Trumpets, L. The court assembles, sir: the king expects you. [Exeunt Lefeu, and Bertram, L. SCENE II.-A Room of State in the Palace.-Flourish of Trumpets, L. The King of FRANCE with Letters, DUMAIN, Lewis, BIRON, JAQUES, TOURVILLE, and Gentlemen, discovered. Enter LEFEU, Bertram, and Paroles, l. Lef. [Leads Bertram to the King's L.] The son of count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. [Crosses behind the Chair to King's R. Hath well compos'd thee: Thy father's moral parts Lef. (R.) So 'tis reported, sir. King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it Lef. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead King. He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes: The count Rousillon, whom we keep with us; And our sick hours of comfort in his absence. Dum. 'Tis our hope, sir, After well-enter'd soldiers, to return |