The Works of Shakespeare

hen; loss that may happen, it concerns you something
goud to know it.

gond, COUNT. You have discharged this honestly;
tel. keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed
?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 bosom, and
I thank you for your honest care: I will speak
with you further anon.
[Exit Steward.

gok

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 show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:
By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults; -or them we thought then a

none.

Enter HELENA.

Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.

HEL. What is your pleasure, madam?

!COUNT.

I am a mother to you.

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 no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?
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 salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis 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, th' one to th' other:† and thine eyes
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it: only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,

You know, Helen, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?

HEL. Mine honourable mistress.
COUNT.

Nay, a mother;

Why not a mother? when I said, a mother,
Methought you saw a serpent: what's in mother,
That you start at it? I say, I am your mother;
And put you in the catalogue of those

The That were enwombed mine. "Tis often seen,
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip 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.

af COUNT. I say, I am your mother. HEL.

Pardon, madam;

The count Rousilion 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:

is He must not be my brother.

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 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;

Nor I your mother? Yet, in this captious and intenible‡ sieve,

a Or them we thought then none.) The old copy reads, Or then we thought them none."

For the transposition of them and then, I am responsible.

bi care no more for,-] "There is a designed ambiguity: 'I care no more for,' is 'I care as much for." "-FARMER. It would somewhat lessen the perplexity of this difficult passage, if we Tally suppose the present line to be spoken aside out, in truth, the text

c Gross,-] That is, palpable.

d This captious and intenible sieve,-] We incline to believe, with Farmer, that captious here is only a contraction of capacious.

I still pour in the waters of my love,
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 dearest 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 chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and Love; O then, give pity
To her, whose state is such that cannot choose,
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. COUNT.

Madam, I had.

Wherefore? tell true.

HEL. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear.

They, that they cannot help. How shall they | The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure,

credit

By such a day, and* hour. COUNT.

Dost thou believe't?

(*) First folio, an.

"In this sense," as Johnson remarks, "successo is employed in Italian."

c Into] Into or unto were often used indiscriminately by the old writers.

Flourish. Enter KING, with divers young Lords, | The gift doth stretch itself as 't is receiv'd,

taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants.

KING. Farewell, young lords, these warlike principles

Do not throw from you:--and you, my lords,

farewell :

Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,

• Farewell, young lords,-] Thus the old copy. Many of the modern editors read, "Farewell, young lord," supposing there are only two French lords about to serve in Italy; but this is an error. There are "divers" young noblemen taking leave, and to

And is enough for both. 1 LORD.

'Tis our hope, sir,.

After well-entered soldiers, to return
And find your grace in health.

KING. No, no, it cannot be, and yet my hear
Will not confess he owes the malady
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lon
Whether I live or die, be you the sons

these the King first addresses himself; he then turns to the lords who are the spokesmen in the scene, and bids them st in the advice just given to their young companions.

Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy (1)
Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall
Of the last monarchy) see that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when
Che bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell.

2 LORD. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty!

KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; They say, our French lack language to deny, if they demand; beware of being captives, Before you serve.

Вотн. Our hearts receive your warnings. KING. Farewell. - Come hither to me.

[The KING retires to a couch.

1 LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAR. 'T is not his fault, the spark. 2 LORD. O, 't is brave wars! PAR. Most admirable; I have seen those wars. BER. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with,

'oo young, and the next year, and 't is too early. PAR. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely.

BER. I shall stay here the fore-horse to a smock,a reaking my shoes on the plain masonry, ill honour be bought up, and no sword worn,

ut one to dance with! (2) By heaven, I'll steal

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this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me.

2 LORD. We shall, noble captain.

PAR. Mars dote on you for his novices! [Exeunt Lords.] What will you* do?

BER. Stay: the king

PAR. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there, do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell.

BER. And I will do so.

PAR. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES.

Enter LAFEU.

LAF. Pardon, my lord, [Kneeling.] for me and for my tidings.

KING. I'll sue thee to stand up.

LAF. Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon. [mercy; I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me And that, at my bidding, you could so stand up. KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. ['t is thus;

LAF. Good faith, across : d but, my good lord, Will you be cur'd of your infirmity?

KING. No.

"I would you had kneel'd, my lord," &c.

d Good faith, across:) Across, in reference to the sports of chivalry, in which, to break a spear across the body of an opponent was disgraceful, came to be used in derision when any pass of wit miscarried. Here however, we believe. Lafeu alludes rather to some game, where certain successes entitle the achiever to mark a cross.

• Yes, but you will my noble grapes, -) My in this passage has been changed in some modern editions to ay, but needlessly; we have only to read "my" emphatically, and the, sense is obvious:

"O, will you eat no grapes? &c.
Yes, but you will, my noble grapes."

1 And make you dance canary,-] To what has already been said on the nature of this sprightly dance (see note (a), vol I p. 64), may be added, that the dancers accompanied their movements with castagnets: see Florio, who defines Chioppare "to clacke or snap, or phip, or click, or lirp with ones fingers, as they that dance the Canaries, or as some barbers."

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The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 2