such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no God, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Knight to be surpriz'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of forrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in; which I held it my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; fithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You have discharg'd this honeftly, keep it to yourself; many likelihoods inform'd 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. Enter Helena. [Exit Steward. Count. Ev'n 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; Love, no God, that would not extend his Might only where Qualities were level, Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Knight, &c. 'Tis evident to every sensible Reader that something must have flipt out here, by which the Meaning of the Context is render'd defective. The Steward is speaking in the very Words he overheard of the Young Lady; Fortune was no Goddess, fhe faid, for one Reason; Love, no God, for another; what could She then more naturally subjoin, than as I have amended in the Text? Diana, no Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Knight to be surpriz'd without Rescue, &c. For in Poetical History Diana was as well known to preside over Chastity, as Cupid over Love, or Fortune over the Change or Regulation of our Circumstances. By By our remembrances of days foregone, 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) Indeed, my mother!-or were you both our mothers I care no more for, than I do for heav'n, So I were not his fister: 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? M My fear hath catch'd your fondness. -Now I see (6) Hel. Good Madam, pardon me. Hel. Do not you love him, Madam ? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, (6) Now I fee The myst'ry of your loveliness, and find Your falt tears' head :) The Mystery of her Loveliness is beyond my Comprehenfion: 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 say no more than this: " I now find the Mystery of your creeping into Corners, and weeping, and pining in secret." For this Reason 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 herself her own Words to her own Ears. Hel. : Hel. Then, I confefs, Here on my knee, before high heav'ns and you, My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love; Nor would I have him, 'till I do deserve him, Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, Hel. Madam, I had. Hel. I will tell truth; by Grace it self, I swear. To To cure the desperate 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'ft 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 believ'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 |