Count. I say, I am your mother. The count Rousillon cannot be my Pardon, madam; brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; 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, So I were not his sister.) Can 't be other But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-inlaw: God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, Hel. Good madam, pardon me. Count. Do you love Hel. my son? 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 The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. Hel. Then, I confess, love: My friends were poor but honest; so 's my The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love, a Captious and intenible-capable of receiving (taking), but not of retaining. 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. For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me To cure the desperate languishings whereof Count. This was your motive for Paris, was it? Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this; Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Embowell'd 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 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 And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt. 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 principles Do not throw from you:-and you, my lord, farewell : 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 That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; your Both. [The KING retires to a couch. |