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rence betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level ; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward: This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in : which I held my duty, speedily to acquaint you withal ; fithence, 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, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt : Pray you, leave me: ' stall this in your bofom, and I thank you
I will speak with you
Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young:
If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
It is the shew and feal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is imprest in youth:
* By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults, Oh! then we thought them none.
is lick 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;
knight]-yotary, one of her train.
fail]-confine, conceal. z these]-affections.
By ou remembrances ) --According to our recollection.
Why not a mother? When I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent: What's in mother,
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,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native Nip 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,
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 ;
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:
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'd care no more for't, than I do for heaven, So I were not his fifter : Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother ?
choice breeds a native slip to us from foreign feeds :]-choice rears and cherishes a foreign slip with the same fondness, as though it were nativi, or sprung from ourielves.
I'd care no more for’t, than I do]-I'd wish as much for it, as I do. -I care no more for.
d Can't no other, but,)-Can it be no otherwise, but if I be.
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?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your falt tears' head. Now to all fense ʼtis gross,
You love my son ; invention is asham'd,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say, thou dost not : therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so :-for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it one to the other; and thine eyes
See it so grolly shewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it ; only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth 'should be suspected : Speak, is't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forswear't : howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
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 higii heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
loveliness ; lowliness-this depression of your spirits.
should be fufpe&ted :]-hould not appear.
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 ;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet, in this 8 captious and intenible sieve,
I still pour in the waters of
And · lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My deareft madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do: but, if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love ; 0 then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot chuse
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.
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
& captious and intenible)-capable of receiving, but not of retaining. b lack not to lose]-cease not to love. cites]-thews, proves. k your Dian]-Diana in your person.
For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me
In heedfullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note : amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approv'd, fet down,
To cure the desperate languishings, whereof
The king is render'd loft.
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 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
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 Ikill, 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 This well lost life of mine on his grace's cure, By such a day, and hour.