Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in law; God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross, Hel. Good madam, pardon me! 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 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: 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; The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, To go to Paris? Hel. Madam, I had. Count. 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 To cure the desperate languishes, whereof Count. This was your motive For Paris, was it? speak. Hel. My lord your son made me to think of this: Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, They, that they cannot help: How shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 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 ho nour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, 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, [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; 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! |