of my thoughtsHaply been absent then.
COUNTESS.
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 let off
The danger to itself?
HELENA.
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 th’ 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.
COUNTESS.
Dost thou believe’t?
HELENA.
Ay, madam, knowingly.
COUNTESS.
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 tomorrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II.
SCENE 1. Paris. A room in the King’s palace.
[Flourish. Enter the 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 received,
And is enough for both.
FIRST 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 aloud: I say farewell.
SECOND 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.]
FIRST LORD.
O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us!
PAROLLES.
‘Tis not his fault; the spark—
SECOND LORD.
O, ‘tis brave wars!
PAROLLES.
Most admirable: I have seen those wars.
BERTRAM.
I am commanded here and kept a coil with,
‘Too young’ and next year’ and ”tis too early.’
PAROLLES.
An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.
BERTRAM.
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.
FIRST LORD.
There’s honour in the theft.
PAROLLES.
Commit it, count.
SECOND LORD.
I am your accessary; and so farewell.
BERTRAM.
I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.
FIRST LORD.
Farewell, captain.
SECOND LORD.
Sweet Monsieur Parolles!
PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals.—You shall find in the regiment
