If it be not, forswear't: howe'er I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Good madam, pardon me!

Hel.
Count. Do you love my son?
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 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 captious and intenible sieve,
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 chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love; Ŏ 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,

You know, my father left me some prescrip

tions

Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected

For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfulest 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, set down,
To cure the desperate languishes, whereof
The king is render'd lost.
Count.

This was your motive

For Paris, was it? speak.
[this;
Hel. My lord your son made me to think of
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king,
Had, from the conversation of my thoughts,
Haply, been absent then.

Count.
But think you, Helen,
If 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

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 great

est

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 The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure, By such a day, and hour.

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,
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; an be sure of this,
What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.

[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, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,

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 Will not confess he owes the malady

That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords;

Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy (Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy) see, that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it! when The 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.

Both. 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. 'Tis not his fault;

2 Lord.

the spark

O, 'tis brave wars!

Par. Most admirable: I have seen those wars.

Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with;

Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.

Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal

away.

1 Lord. There's honour in the theft.

Par.

Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.

1 Lord. Farewell, captain.

2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles!

Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him I live; 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

[Seeing him rise. 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 fee thee to stand up.

Then here's a man Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would,

Laf.

you

Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; 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.

Laf.

Goodfaith, across : But, my good lord, 'tis thus; Will you be cur'd Of your infirmity?

King. Laf.

No.

O, will you eat

No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will,
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox

Could reach them: I have seen a medicine,
That's able to breathe life into a stone;

Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary,
With spritely fire and motion; whose simple

tonch

Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line.

King.

What her is this?

Laf. Why, doctor she: My lord, there's one arriv'd,

If you will see her,-now, by my faith and honour,

If seriously I may convey my thoughts

In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession,

Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more Than I dare blame my weakness: Will yon see

her,

(For that is her demand,) and know her busi

ness?

That done, laugh well at me.

King. Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine, By wond'ring how thou took'st it.

Laf.

And not be all day neither.

Nay, I'll fit you,

[Exit LAFEU.

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.