網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

your bosom, and I
care: I will speak
[exit Steward.

you leave me stall this in
thank you for your honest
with you further anon.
Enter Helena.

Count. Even so
so it was with me
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, [none.
Such were our faults;—or then we thought them
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 an
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-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why? -that you are my daughter?

[blocks in formation]

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 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. y
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 Dinn
Was both herself and love; O then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose a
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ;sma
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 prov'd effects, such as his reading,
And manifest experience, had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me

Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'would you (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother), Indeed, my mother!—or were you both our moI care no more for, than I do for heaven, [thers, 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 heedfullest 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.

in-law:

[ther,
God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mo-
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,

J.

To say thou dost not: therefore, tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so:-for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it, one to the 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 clue;

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

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

SCENE I. PARIS. A BOOM IN THE KING'S PALACE. Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles, and Attendants.

weKing. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin-
Bciples
[well:

Do not throw from you:-and you, my lord, fare-
Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd,
And is enough for both and DONT AN

[ocr errors]

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.

wasanganh [the King retires to a couch. 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark2 Lord, 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 fore-horse 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.

[ocr errors]

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!

Pur. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

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; 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

[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.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Laf. 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 breath life into a stone,
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch
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?
[arriv'd,
Laf. Why, doctor she. My lord, there's one
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 you see her

(For that is her demand), and know her business? | Where most it promises: and oft it hits, 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. Nay, I'll fit you,
And not be all day neither.

[exit Lafeu.

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.

Re-enter Lafeu, with Helena.

Laf. Nay, come your ways.

King. This haste hath wings indeed.
Laf. Nay, come your ways;

This is his majesty, say your mind to him:
A traitor you do look like; but such traitors
His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle,
That dare leave two together; fare you well. [exit.
King. Now, fair one, does your business follow
us?

[was
Hel. Ay, my good lord.
Gerard de Narbon
My father; in what he did profess, well found.
King. I knew him.

[him;

Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience the only darling, He bade me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own too, more dear. I have so: And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness.

King. We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure,— When our most learned doctors leave us; and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her unaidable estate ;-I say, we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics; or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains: I will no more enforce mine office on you; Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one, to bear me back again.

[ful

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateThou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give

As one near death to those that wish him live: But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy: He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown. When judges have been babes. Great floods have fown

From simple sources; and great seas have dried, When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there

Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits.

King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid;

Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid: Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.

Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: It is not so with him that all things knows, As 'tis with us, that square our guess by shows: But most it is presumption in us, when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent, Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim: But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power, nor you past cure. King. Art thou so confident? Within what Hop'st thou my cure? [space

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace, Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring; Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp; Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, What dar'st thou venture?

Hel. Tax of impudence,—

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,— Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; no worse of worst extended, With vilest torture let my life be ended. [speak;

King. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth
His powerful sound, within an organ weak:
And what impossibility would slay

In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate;
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all
That happiness and prime can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try;
That ministers thine own death, if I die.

Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die;
And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee;
But, if I help, what do you promise me?
King. Make thy demand.
Hel. But will you make it even?

King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven.

[hand,

Hel. Then thou shalt give me, with thy kingly What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance

To choose from forth the royal blood of France;
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.

King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd;
So make the choice of thy own time: for I,

Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely,
More should I question thee, and more I must;
Though, more to know, could not be more to trust;
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on,—but
rest

Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest.-
Give me some help here, ho!-If thou proceed
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
[flourish; exeurt.
SCENE IL ROUSILLON. A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S

PALACE.

Enter Countess and Clown. Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.

Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught; I know my business is but to the court.

Count. To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!

Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men.

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions.

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. [tions?

Count. Will your answer serve fit to all quesClo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for Mayday, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?

Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.

would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't.

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my O Lord, sir:'-I see, things may serve long, but not serve ever.

Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-why there't serves welbagain. Count. An end, sir, to your business: give Helen And urge her to a present answer back: [this, Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son; This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them. Count. Not much employment for you: you understand me? [legs. Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my Count. Haste you again. [exeunt severally

SCENE III. PARIS. A ROOM IN THE KING'S
PALACE.

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors: ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times. Ber. And so 'tis.

Laf. To be relinquish'd of the artists,-
Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows,—
Par. Right, so I say.

Laf. That gave him out incurable.—
Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I, too.
Laf. Not to be helped,—

Par. Right; as 'twere, a man assured of an-
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.

Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in, -what do you call there?

Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an

Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous earthly actor. size, that must fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me, if I am a courtier; it shall do you no harm to learn.

Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clo. O Lord, sir,- -there's a simple putting off; more, more, a hundred of them.

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.

Clo. O Lord, sir,-thick, thick, spare not me. Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. [you. Clo. O Lord, sir,-nay, put me to't, I warrant Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clo. O Lord, sir,-spare not me.

[ocr errors]

Count. Do you cry, O Lord, sir,' at your whipping, and 'spare not me?' Indeed, your O Lord, sir,' is very sequent to your whipping; you

Par. That's it I would have said: the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, I speak in respect

Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most facinorous spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the

Laf. Very hand of heaven.
Par. Ay, so I say.
Laf. In a most weak-

Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be

Laf. Generally thankful.

Enter King, Helena, and Attendants. Par. I would have said it; you say well: here comes the king.

Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's able to lead her a coranto.

[blocks in formation]

Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous Fall, when love please!-marry, to each, but one! Laf. I'd give bay Curtal, and his furniture, My mouth no more were broken than these boys, And writ as little beard.

King. Peruse them well:

Not one of those, but had a noble father.
Hel. Gentlemen,

[health. Heaven hath, through me, restor'd the king to All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.

Hel. I am a simple maid; and therein wealthiest,
That, I protest, I simply am a maid :—————
Please it your majesty, I have done already:
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
"We blush, that thou should'st choose; but be
refus'd,

Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again."

King. Make choice; and, see,

Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly;
And to Imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream.-Sir, will you hear my suit?
1 Lord. And grant it.

Hel. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.
Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw
ames-ace for my life.

Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair
Before I speak, too threat'ningly replies: [eyes,
Love make your fortunes twenty times above
Her that so wishes, and her humble love!
2 Lord. No better, if you please.
Hel. My wish receive,

Which great love grant! and so I take my leave.
Laf. Do they all deny her? An they were sons
of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send
them to the Turk to make eunuchs of.

Hcl. Be not afraid [to a lord] that I your hand

should take;

I'll never do you wrong for your own sake:
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed!

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got them.

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood.

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.

father drank wine. But if thou be'st not an ass, 1 am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already.

Hel 1 dare not say I take you; [to Bertram]
but I give

Me, and my service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guiding power. This is the man.
King. Why then, young Bertram, take her,
she's thy wife.
[highness,
Ber. My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your
In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.

King. Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What she has done for me?
Ber. Yes, my good lord;

But never hope to know why I should marry her.
King. Thou know'st, she has rais'd me from

my sickly bed.

[ocr errors]

Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
Must answer for your rising? I know her well;
She had her breeding at my father's charge:
A poor physician's daughter my wife!-Disdain
Rather corrupt me ever!
[which

King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be
All that is virtuous (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter), thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name; but do not so:
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alon

Is good, without a name; vileness is so :
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sirc. Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue, and she,
Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me.
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st
strive to choose.

Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am
Let the rest go.
[glad;
King. My honour's at the stake; which to de-
feat,

I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift:
That dost in vile misprision shackle up
My love, and her desert; that canst not dream,
We, poizing us in her defective scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour, where

Laf. There's one grape yet,—I am sure, thy We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt:

« 上一頁繼續 »