Act I

All's Well That Ends Well.

Scene I. Rousillon. The Count's palace.

Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in black.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second
husband.

Ber. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's
death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to
whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam;
you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good,
must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness
would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where
there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under
whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and
finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing
of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father,—O, that
'had'! how sad a passage 'tis!—whose skill was almost as
great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have
made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack
of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I
think it would be the death of the king's disease.

Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam?

Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was
his great right to be so,—Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent indeed madam: the king very
lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was
skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set
up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman
the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my
overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education
promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes
fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous
qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues
and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simpleness;
she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise
in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her
heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from
her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest
it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have—

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead;
excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess
makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.

Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord;
'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.

Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit.

Ber. [To Helena] The best wishes that can be forged in
your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my
mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit
of your father.

[Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.

Hel. O, were that all! I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in 't but Bertram's.
I am undone: there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here?

Enter Parolles.

[Aside] One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

Par. Save you, fair queen!

Hel. And you, monarch!

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let
me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how
may we barricado it against him?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant,
in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike
resistance.

Par. There is none: man, sitting down before you, will
undermine you and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and
blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins
might blow up men?

Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier
be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the
breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not
politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity.
Loss of virginity is rational increase and there was never
virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made
of is metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost
may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost:
'tis too cold a companion; away with 't!

Hel. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a
virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule
of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse
your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He
that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself; and
should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a
desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites,
much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and
so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is
peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited
sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose
but lose by 't: out with 't! within ten year it will make
itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal
itself not much the worse: away with 't!

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it
likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the
longer kept, the less worth: off with 't while 'tis vendible;
answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier,
wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable:
just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not now.
Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in
your cheek: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like
one of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily;
marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry,
yet 'tis a withered pear: will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet....
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother and a mistress and a friend,
A phœnix, captain and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he—
I know not what he shall. God send him well!
The court's a learning place, and he is one—

Par. What one, i' faith?

Hel. That I wish well. 'Tis pity—

Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
[Exit.

Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I
will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable
star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must
needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.

Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward when you fight.

Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety:
but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you
is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee
acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the which, my
instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be
capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice
shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness,
and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When
thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none,
remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use
him as he uses thee: so, farewell. [Exit.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high;
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose
What hath been cannot be: who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease—my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit.

LINENOTES:

Act i. Scene i.] Actus Primus. Scæna Prima. Ff.

Enter.... ] Enter yong Bertram, Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena, Lord Lafew, all in blacke. Ff.

Count.] Mother. Ff, and afterwards Mo.

delivering] delivering up Hanmer. dissevering Warburton.

son from me,] son, for me or son, 'fore me, Becket conj.

And I in going, madam] F1. And in going Madam F2 F3 F4. And in going, madam, I Rowe.

lack] slack Theobald (Warburton).

persecuted] prosecuted Hanmer.

passage] preface Hanmer. presage Warburton. pesage Becket conj.

was] om. Collier (Collier MS.).

would] it would Rowe, 't would Singer.

have] have had Hanmer.

play] play'd Warburton.

[29, 31, 52] Ber.] Ros. Ff.

hopes of her good that her] good hopes of her that her or hopes of her that her good Anon. conj.

promises; her] Rowe. promises her Ff. promises her; Pope.

her dispositions] the honesty of her dispositions Staunton conj.

dispositions] disposition Rowe.

their] her Hammer (Warburton).

from her tears] tears from her Pope.

it be rather thought you] you be rather thought to Hanmer.

to have—] Ff. to have it. Warburton. have it. Capell. to have. Steevens.

lamentation] F1. lamentations F2 F3 F4.

Count.] Hel. Tieck.

be] be not Theobald (Warburton).

[52, 53] Ber. Madam, ... Laf. How ... ] Laf. How ... Ber. Madam, ... Theobald conj.

head] F1. hand F2 F3 F4.

Farewell, my lord:] Farewell my Lord, Ff. Farewel.—My lord Lafeu, Capell. Farewell. My lord, Steevens.

[63-67] Hanmer ends the lines 'tis an ... advise him ... attend ... Bertram. S. Walker would end them My lord Lafeu, ... my lord ... that shall ... Bertram, reading can't for cannot in line 65.

Advise him.] Advise him you. Capell.

[65-87] Laf. He cannot ... draw] Omitted in F4.

Heaven] May heaven Hanmer.

[To Helena] Rowe.

must hold] uphold Rann (Mason conj.).

[Exeunt...] Rowe. om. Ff.

Scene ii. Pope.

those I] they are Hanmer.

in't but Bertram's] in it but my Bertram's Pope. in it, but of Bertram Capell. in 't but only Bertram's Collier (Collier MS.).

'Twere] F1 F2 F3. It were Pope.

particular] F1 F2 F3. partic'lar Pope.

me:] Rowe. me F1 F2 F3.

The] Th' F1 F2 F3.

brows] browes F1 F2. arrows F3 F4.

our] my Collier MS.

trick] trait Becket conj.

reliques] F1 F2. relick F3 F4.

Enter Parolles.] Ff. Dyce transfers to line 99.

[Aside] Edd.

solely] F3 F4. solie F1 F2. wholly Hanmer.

steely] seely Williams conj.

Look] Rowe. Lookes F1 F2. Looks F3 F4.

i'the] in the Pope.

withal] om. Pope.

Cold] S. Walker conjectures that this is corrupt.

folly] F3 F4. follie F1 F2.

Scene iii. Pope.

Save] 'Save Hanmer.

stain] strain Halliwell conj.

barricado] Rowe. barracedo F1. barrocado F2 F3 F4.

[107-109] him? Par. Keep him out. Hel. But] him to keep him out? for Hanmer.

assails] assails us S. Walker conj.

[109, 110] valiant, in the defence yet] Ff. valiant in the defence, yet Steevens.

to us] F1. us F2 F3 F4.

sitting] Johnson. setting Ff.

Bless] 'Bless Capell conj. MS.

rational] national Hanmer (Theobald conj.). natural Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.

got] F2 F3 F4. goe F1.

mothers] mother Rowe.

[130, 131] He ... is] He ... is like Hanmer. As he ... so is Warburton.

his] its Rowe. on its Hanmer.

inhibited] F1. inhabited F2 F3 F4. prohibited Pope.

[138, 139] ten year ... ten,] ten years ... ten Hanmer. ten yeare ... two F1. ten yeares ... two F2 F3. ten years ... two F4. two years ... two Collier, ed. 2 (Steevens conj.). ten years ... twelve Tollet conj. ten months ... two Singer (Malone conj.). one year ... two Grant White. the year ... two Anon. conj.

[142, 143] it likes] likes it S. Walker conj.

'Tis] And 'tis Hanmer.

wear] Capell. were Ff. we wear Rowe.

yet] yes, Hanmer.

will you] will you do Collier MS.

with it?] with me? Johnson conj. with us? Tyrwhitt conj. with it? I am now bound for the court. Malone conj. with it? We are for the Court. Staunton conj.

Not] Not with Collier MS.

yet.] yet. You're for the Court: Hanmer. See note (ii).

[153, 154] Not ... your] No!—my virginity! yet There shall its Jackson conj.

shall] should Steevens conj.

A mother] Another Rowe (ed. 2).

[156-163] A phœnix ... shall he] Put in brackets as spurious by Warburton.

captain] captor Anon. conj.

humble] F1. humblest F2 F3 F4.

pretty] petty Harness.

fond, adoptious] fond-adoptious S. Walker conj.

he—] Rowe. he: Ff.

learning place] learning-place Steevens.

one—] Rowe. one. Ff.

pity—] Rowe. pitty. F1 F2 F3. pity. F4.

Par. What's pity?] Omitted in Pope (ed. 2).

the] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

Exit.] Theobald.

wars have] Pope. warres hath F1 F2. waters hath F3 F4. waters have Rowe.

So ... safety] Printed as two lines in Ff, the first ending away.

the safety] safety F3 F4.

makes] make Hanmer.

wing] ming Warburton.

I like the wear] is like to wear Mason conj.

businesses] F1 F2 F3. business F4. businesses, as Theobald.

instruction] instrument Rowe (ed. 2).

of a] F1. of the F2 F3 F4. of Pope.

Scene iv. Pope.

That] Which Capell.

The mightiest space] The mighty and base Mason conj. The wid'st apart Staunton conj.

fortune nature] nature fortune Malone conj. (withdrawn).

brings] springs Anon. (Fras. Mag.) conj.

[208, 209] The ... To join like likes] Through ... Likes to join likes Johnson conj. The ... Like to join like Long MS.

hath been cannot be] hath not been ca'nt be Hanmer. ha'nt been cannot be Mason conj. n'ath been cannot be Staunton conj.

The king's disease—] Rowe. (The Kings disease) Ff.

Scene II. Paris. The King's palace.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, and divers Attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.

First Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

First Lord. His love and wisdom,
Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.

King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

Sec. Lord. It well may serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.

King. What's he comes here?

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts
Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.

King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself in friendship
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father. In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted
Ere they can hide their levity in honour:
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awaked them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He used as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph
As in your royal speech.

King. Would I were with him! He would always say—
Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there and to bear,—'Let me not live,'—
This his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out,—'Let me not live,' quoth he,
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgements are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions. This he wish'd:
I after him do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.

Sec. Lord. You are loved, sir;
They that least lend it you shall lack you first.

King. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count,
Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much famed.

Ber. Some six months since, my lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out
With several applications: nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's no dearer.

Ber. Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt. Flourish.

LINENOTES:

[Scene ii.] Capell. Scene v. Pope.

Flourish of cornets.] Flourish cornets. Ff.

Senoys] Siennois or Siennese Lloyd conj.

the ears] Capell. th' eares Ff.

[3, 9, 18] First Lord.] 1. Lord. Rowe. 1. Lo. G. Ff.

[15, 67] Sec. Lord.] 2. Lord. Rowe. 2. Lo. E. Ff.

well may] may well F3 F4.

It is] F1 F4. It 'tis F2 F3.

Rousillon] Pope. Rosignoll F1. Rosillion F2. Rossillion F3 F4.

Hath well composed thee] Compos'd thee well Pope.

bravest] brav'st Pope.

well] ill Long MS.

hide their levity in honour] vye their levity with his honour Hanmer. hide their levity in humour Long MS.

[35, 36] honour: So like a courtier,] Ff. honour, So like a courtier: Capell (Blackstone conj.). honour: No courtier-like Lloyd conj.

contempt nor] no contempt nor Rowe (ed. 1). no contempt or Rowe (ed. 2).

in his pride or sharpness;] in him; pride or sharpness, Theobald (Warburton). in him, pride or sharpness; Capell.

if they were] if there were Theobald (Warburton).

Clock] Block Rowe (ed. 2).

Exception] Exceptions Theobald.

this] that Rowe.

his hand] the hand Johnson conj. it's hand Capell. his head Long MS.

another place] a brother-race Hanmer.

proud of] proud; and Warburton.

[44, 45] humility, In ... praise he humbled] humility: He in ... praise, humbled Becket conj.

he humbled] be-humbled Staunton conj.

demonstrate them now] now demonstrate them Pope.

So in approof lives not his] Approof so lives not in his Johnson conj. So his approof lives not in Capell.

This] Ff. Thus Pope.

it] wit Staunton conj.

fathers] feathers Tyrwhitt conj. parcels Williams conj.

labourers] labourer Warburton.

You are] Capell. You'r F1 F2. You're F3 F4.

Thank] Thanks to Rowe.

[Exeunt.] Exit. Ff.

Scene III. Rousillon. The Count's palace.

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown.

Count. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content,
I wish might be found in the calendar of my past
endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and make
foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we
publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone,
sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you I do not all
believe: 'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know you
lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to
make such knaveries yours.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor
fellow.

Count. Well, sir.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor,
though many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have
your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the
woman and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clo. I do beg your good will in this case.

Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no
heritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of
God till I have issue o' my body; for they say barnes are
blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on
by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason?

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as
they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that
I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

Clo. I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have
friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Clo. You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the
knaves come to do that for me, which I am aweary of. He
that ears my land spares my team, and gives me leave to in
the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts
my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he
that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood;
he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that
kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to
be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young
Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, howsome'er
their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one;
they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious
knave?

Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the
next way:

For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen
come to you: of her I am to speak.

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with
her; Helen I mean.

Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, done fond,
Was this King Priam's joy?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.

Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song,
sirrah.

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying
o' the song: would God would serve the world so all
the year! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were
the parson: one in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good
woman born but one every blazing star, or at an earth-quake,
'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his
heart out, ere a' pluck one.

Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command
you.

Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and
yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it
will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over
the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: the
business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit.

Count. Well, now.

Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman
entirely.

Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me;
and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make
title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her
than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand.

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than I
think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate
to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I
dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her
matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no
goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two
estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might,
only where qualities were level; ... queen of virgins, that
would suffer her poor knight surprised, without rescue in
the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered
in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin
exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you
withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns
you something to know it.

Count. You have discharged this honestly; 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.

Enter Helena.

Even so it was with me when I was young:
If ever 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 then we thought them none.
Her eye is sick 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:
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
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.

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 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 ashamed,
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,
That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew;
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!

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 loved 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 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. 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 proved effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note: amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The king is render'd lost.

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, 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 in't,
More than my father's skill, 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
The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure
By such a day and hour.

Count. Dost them 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; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

[Scene iii.] Scene vi. Pope.

hear; what say you] Theobald. heare, what say you Ff. hear what you say Capell.

gentlewoman?] F4. gentlewoman. F1 F2 F3.

even] win Collier conj.

foul] out Rowe (ed. 2).

'tis] it is S. Walker conj., reading lines 9-12 as verse, ending complaints ... believe ... them ... make ... yours.

yours] yare Warburton conj.

I am] that I am Capell.

may have] F1. have F2 F3 F4.

to go to] to go into Long MS.

[18, 19] the woman] your woman Grant White.

and I will] F2 F3 F4. and w will F1. and we will Collier.

o'] Rowe (ed. 2). a Ff. of Rann.

barnes] F1. bearns F2. barns F3 F4.

out o'] Capell. out a F1 F2 F3. out of F4.

You're] Capell. Y'are Ff. You are Steevens.

madam, in] madam; e'en Hanmer. madam, my Tyrwhitt conj.

aweary] weary Rowe.

to in] F4. to Inne F1 F2 F3.

cherishes] F1. cherisheth F2 F3 F4.

Charbon ... Poysam] See note (iii).

howsome'er] how somere F1 F2. howsomeere F3. howsomere F4. howsoe'er Pope.

[57-60] For I ... kind] Printed as verse first in Rowe (ed. 2).

the cause, quoth she] quoth she, the cause Collier (Collier MS.).

Fond done, done fond] omitted by Pope.

[68, 69] done find ... joy?] done, fond ... joy, F1 F2. fond done;—for Paris he ... joy. Theobald (Warburton). fond done! but Paris he ... joy, Capell conj. done fond, good sooth, it was: ... joy? Collier (Collier MS.). For it undone, undone, quoth he, ... joy. Rann (Heath conj.).

[70, 71] With ... stood] With ... stood, bis. Ff (bis in italics).

Omitted by Pope.]

[72-75] And gave ... ten] Printed first as verse in Rowe (ed. 2).

[73, 74] one] none Capell conj.

Omitted by Pope.]

a] F1 F2. the F3 F4.

o' the] Capell. o' th' Rowe (ed. 2). ath' F1 F2. a'th F3 F4.

song] song and mending of the sex Collier (Collier MS. o' the).

one] Collier (Collier MS.). ore F1 F2. o're F3 F4. o'er Rowe. om. Pope. or Capell. on Rann. ere Collier (ed. 1). for Harness. 'fore Staunton. at Halliwell conj.

well] wheel Malone conj.

draw] pray Rowe.

a'] he Rowe (ed. 2).

you.] Pope, you? Ff.

woman's] F1. a woman's F2 F3 F4.

[87, 88] and yet] F1 F2. and get F3 F4.

no puritan] a puritan Rann. (Tyrwhitt conj.).

do no hurt] do what is enjoined Malone conj.

advantage] advantages Rowe.

would] should Capell.

not] om. Long MS.

might, only] F4. might onelie, F1 F2. might onely F3.

level; ... queen] levell, Queene F1 F2. levell: Queen F3F4. level: Complain'd against the Queen Rowe. level; Diana no queen Theobald. See note (iv).

knight] spright Warburton conj.

surprised] to be surpris'd Rowe.

[107, 108] without rescue in the first assault,] in the first assault, without rescue Capell.

virgin] a virgin Pope.

held] held it Rowe.

honestly] honesty F3 F4.

neither] F1. never F2 F3 F4.

Enter H.] Enter Hellen. Ff. Enter H. Singer (after line 126). See note (v).

Scene vii. Pope.

Even] Old Cou. Even Ff.

ever] om. Pope. e'er Edd. conj.

Such were our faults, or] Ff. Such-were our faults, tho' Hanmer. Such were our faults,—O! Johnson (Warburton conj.). Search we out faults, for Collier MS.

then ... them] them ... then Staunton.

You know, Helen] Helen, you know Pope.

[130, 131] Nay ... said 'a mother'] As one line in Ff.

said 'a mother'] said mother F3 F4.

I am] Ff. I'm Pope.

seeds] soil Anon. conj.

The] This S. Walker conj.

eye] eyes Pope.

Why?] —Why, Ff. Why,— Rowe.

are] art F2.

mother?] Rowe (ed. 2). mother. Ff.

I care ... heaven] I cannot ask for more than that of heav'n Hanmer. I can no more fear, than I do fear heav'n Warburton. I cannot more fear than I do fear heav'n Heath conj. I'd care no more for't than I do for heaven Capell. I care would ... heaven or I crave would ... heaven Mason conj. I care no more for than you do, 'fore heaven Becker conj. [Aside] I care no more for than I do for heaven Staunton conj.

[156, 157] Can't no other, But I ... he ... brother?] Theobald. Cant no other, But I ... he ... brother. Ff. Can't no other? But I ... he ... brother. Pope. Can't be no other Way I ... but he ... brother? Hanmer.

loneliness] Theobald. loveliness Ff. lowliness Hall conj. liveliness Becket conj.

th' one to th'] Knight. 'ton tooth to th' F1. 'ton to th' F2. 'tone to th' F3 F4. one to th' Rowe.

it] it is F2.

behaviours] behaviour F3 F4.

you have] you've Pope.

thine] F1. mine F2 F3 F4.

truly] true Hanmer.

disclose] F3 F4. disclose: F1 F2.

heaven] F1. heavens F2 F3 F4.

[184, 185] That ... son] As in Pope. Printed as one line in Ff.

captious] carious Johnson conj. cap'cious Farmer conj. copious Jackson conj.

intenible] intemible F1. inteemible Nicholson conj.

waters] water Rowe.

lose] F4. loose F1 F2 F3. love Tyrwhitt conj.

liking] F1. living F2. loving F3 F4.

Wish ... dearly] Love dearly and wish chastely Malone conj.

that] she Hanmer.

her] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. which Rowe.

tell true] om. Steevens conj.

tell truth] F1. tell true F2 F3 F4. tell you true Capell (corrected in note).

manifest] manifold Collier (Long MS.).

languishings Ff. languishes Reed (1803).

Haply] Pope. Happily Ff.

that they cannot help him] that he can't be help'd Hanmer. that they cannot help Capell conj. that they cannot heal him S. Walker conj.

cannot help] can't help him Capell conj. cannot cure Bailey conj.

in't] hints Hanmer (Warburton).

By the] Byth' F1 F2 F3. By th' F4.

to try] F1. to F2 F3 F4. for the Rowe.

The] This Hanmer.

on his] on's S. Walker conj.

and] an F1.

attendants] attendance S. Walker conj.

into] F1 F2. unto F3 F4. upon Hanmer.

Be gone] F3 F4. Begon F1 F2.