By our remembrances of days foregone, Hel. What is your pleasure, Madam? Count. Helen, you know, I am a mother to you. Count. Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? when I said a mother, Count. I say, I am your mother. Hel. Pardon, Madam. The Count Roufillon cannot 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) My My fear hath catch'd your fondness. - Now I fee (6) 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 passions Have to the full appeach'd. (6) Now I fee The myst'ry of your loveliness, and find -] The Mystery of her Loveliness is beyond my Comprehension: The old Countess is saying nothing ironical, nothing taunting, or in Reproach, that this Word should find a place here; which it could not, unless sarcastically employ'd, and with some Spleen. I dare warrant, the Poet meant, his old Lady should fay no more than this: " I now find the Mystery of your creeping into "Corners, and weeping, and pining in secret." For this Reafon I have amended the Text, Loneliness. The Steward, in the foregoing Scene, where he gives the Countess Intelligence of Helen's Behaviour, says; Alone She was, and did communicate to berself ber own Words to ber own Ears. Hel. 1 Hel. Then, I confefs, Here on my knee, before high heav'ns and you, I love your fon : My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love; Count. Had you not lately an intent, fpeak truly, Bel. Madam, I had. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by Grace it self, I swear. 1 To L To cure the defperate languishings, whereof Count. This was your motive for Paris, was it, speak? Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King, Count. But think you, Helen, Hel. There's something in't More than my father's skill, (which was the great'st Shall for my legacy be sanctified By th' luckiest stars in heav'n; and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-loft life of mine on his Grace's Cure, By such a day and hour. Count. Doft thou believe't? Hel. Ay, Madam, knowingly. Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love; Means and attendants; and my loving greetings What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt. ACT ACT II. SCENE, the Court of France. Enter the King, with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles. Flourish Cornets. KING. FArewel, young Lords: these warlike principles Do not throw from you: you, my fare wel; Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain, 1 Lord. 'Tis our hope, Sir, And find your Grace in health. King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart That doth my life besiege; farewel, young Lords; Of worthy French men; (6) let higher Italy (6) - let bigber Italy (Those bated, that inberit but the Fall (Those Of the last Monarchy ;) fee, &c.) This seems to me One of the very obfcure Passages of Shakespear, and which therefore may very well demand Explanation. Italy, at the time of this Scene, was under three very different Tenures. The Emperor, as Successor of the Roman Emperors, had one Part ; the Pope, by a pretended Donation from Constantine, another; and the Third was compos'd of free States. Now by the last Monarchy is meant the Roman, the last of the four general Monarchies. Upon the Fall of this Monarchy, in the Scramble, several Cities set up for Themselves, and became free States: Now these might be faid properly to inherit the Fall of the Monarchy. This being premised, now to the Sense. The King says, |