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 affault, or ransom afterward: This fhe deliver'd in the most bitter touch of forrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty, fpeedily to acquaint you withal; fithence, in the lofs that may happen, it concerns you fomething to know it.

Count. You have discharg'd this honeftly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung fo tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe, nor misdoubt: Pray you, leave me: 'stall this in your bofom, and I thank you for your honeft care: I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward.

Enter Helena.

Count. Even fo it was with me, when I was young:

If we are nature's, thefe are ours; this thorn

Doth to our rofe of youth rightly belong;

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;

It is the fhew and feal of nature's truth,

Where love's strong paffion is imprest in youth:
By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults, Oh! then we thought them none.
Her eye is fick on't; I obferve her now.

Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Count. You know, Helen,

I am a mother to you.

Hel. Mine honourable miftrefs.

Count. Nay a mother;

* knight]-votary, one of her train. yftall]-confine, conceal.

thefe]-affections. By our remembrances]-According to our recollection.

Why

b

Why not a mother? When I faid, a mother,
Methought you faw a ferpent: What's in mother,
That you start at it? I fay, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often seen,
Adoption ftrives with nature; and choice breeds
A native flip to us from foreign feeds :
You ne'er opprefs'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I exprefs to you a mother's care:-
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood,
To fay, I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distemper'd meffenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why? that you are my daughter?

Hel. That I am not.

Count. I fay, I am your mother.

Hel. Pardon, madam;

The count Roufillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My mafter, my dear lord he is; and I
His fervant live, and will his vaffal 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 fon, 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,

d

So I were not his fifter: Can't no other,

But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?

↳ choice breeds a native flip to us from foreign feeds :]—choice rears and cherishes a foreign flip with the fame fondnefs, as though it were native, or fprung from ouríelves.

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.

Can't no other, but,]-Can it be no otherwife, but if I be.

Count.

Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law; God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, So ftrive upon your pulfe: What, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I fee

The mystery of your

Your falt tears' head.

loneliness, and find

Now to all fenfe 'tis grofs,
You love my fon; invention is asham'd,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,

To say, thou doft not: therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis fo:-for, look, thy cheeks
Confefs it one to the other; and thine eyes
See it fo grofly fhewn in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it; only fin
And hellish obftinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth' fhould be fufpected: Speak, is't fo?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, forfwear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Hel. Good madam, pardon me!
Count. Do you love my fon?

Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress!

Count. Love you my fon?

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 paffions

Have to the full appeach'd.

Hel. Then, I confefs,

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your fon :-

loveliness; lowlinefs-this depreffion of your spirits. ffhould be fufpected :]-fhould not appear.

My

My friends were poor, but honeft; fo's my
Be not offended; for it hurts not him,
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of prefumptuous fuit;

love:

Nor would I have him, 'till I do deferve him;
Yet never know how that defert fhould be.

I know I love in vain, ftrive against hope;

g

Yet, in this captious and intenible fieve,

I still pour in the waters of my love,

And lack not to lofe ftill: thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore

The fun, that looks upon his worshipper,

k

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,
Whofe aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chaftly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love; O then, give pity
To her, whofe ftate is fuch, that cannot chufe
But lend and give, where fhe is fure to lofe;
That feeks not to find that, her fearch implies,
But, riddle-like, lives fweetly where fhe 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 fwear. You know, my father left me fome prescriptions Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading, And manifeft experience, had collected

& captious and intenible]-capable of receiving, but not of retaining. black not to lofe]-cease not to love.

k your Dian]-Diana in your perfon.

cites]-fhews, proves.

For

For general fovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfulleft refervation to beftow them,

As notes, whofe faculties inclufive 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? fpeak.

Hel. My lord your fon made me to think of this
Elfe Paris, and the medicine, and the king,
Had, from the converfation of my thoughts,
Haply, been absent then.

If

Count. But think you, Helen,

you should tender your fuppofed aid,

He would receive it? He and his phyficians

Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him,

They, that they cannot help: How fhall they credit
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
"Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off
The danger to itself?

Hel. There's fomething " hints,

More than my father's fkill, which was the greatest
Of his profeffion, that his good receipt

your

By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would
But give me leave to try fuccefs, I'd venture
This well loft life of mine on his grace's cure,

By fuch a day, and hour.

Count. Doft thou believe't?

honour

As notes, &c.]-receipts, wherein more was contain'd than met the

Emborwell'd of their doctrine,]-Having exhaufted their skill.

hints,]-whispers, perfuades me.

for my legacy,]-the credit of it.

Cc 2

Hel.