William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Had from the conversation of my thoughts

Haply 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 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.

FIRST LORD.

We shall, noble captain.

PAROLLES.

Mars dote on you for his novices!

[Exeunt LORDS.]

What will ye do?

BERTRAM.

Stay; the king—

PAROLLES. 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.

BERTRAM.

And I will do so.

PAROLLES.

Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES.]

[Enter LAFEU.]

LAFEU.

Pardon, my lord [kneeling], for me and for my tidings.

KING.

I’ll fee thee to stand up.

LAFEU.

Then here’s a man stands that has bought his pardon.

I would 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.

LAFEU.

Good faith, across;

But, my good lord, ‘tis thus: will you be cured

Of your infirmity?

KING.

No.

LAFEU.

O, will you eat

No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will

My noble grapes, and 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 touch

Is powerful to araise King Pipin, nay,

To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand

And write to her a loveline.

KING.

What ‘her’ is that?

LAFEU.

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 you see her,—

For that is her demand,—and know her business?

That done, laugh well at me.

KING.

Now, good Lafeu,

Bring in the admiration; that we with the

May spend our wonder too, or take off thine

By wondering how thou took’st it.

LAFEU.

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.]

LAFEU.

Nay, come your ways.

KING.

This haste hath wings indeed.

LAFEU.

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?

HELENA.

Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was

My father; in what he did profess, well found.

KING.

I knew him.

HELENA.

The rather will I spare my praises towards him.

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 two, 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