Abbildungen der Seite

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.

Nor I your mother? 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 mo

thers, I care no more for, than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister 9: 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


or were you both our mothers,
I CARE NO MORE FOR, than I do for heaven,

So I were not his sister :) There is a designed ambiguity: “ I care no more for,” is, “I care as much for. I wish it equally."

FARMER. In Troilus and Cressida we find. "I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.". There the words certainly mean, I should not be sorry or unwilling to be, &c. According to this, then, the meaning of the passage before us should be, “ If you were mother to us both, it would not give me more solicitude than heaven gives me,- -So I were not his sister." But Helena certainly would not confess an indifference about her future state. However, she may mean, as Dr. Farmer has suggested, I should not care more than, but equally as, I care for future happiness ; I should be as content, and solicit it as much, as I pray for the bliss of heaven.” MALONE.

Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?] The meaning is obscured by the elliptical diction. Can it be no other way, but if I be your daughter, he must be my brother ? Johnson.

-strive - ] To strive is to contend. So, in beline :
“ That it did strive in workmanship and value ! ” STEEVENS.


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,
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;
If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Good madam, pardon me !
Count. Do you love my son ?

Your pardon, noble mistress !
Now I see
The mystery of your LONELINESS, and find
Your salt tears' HEAD.] The old copy reads-loveliness.

STEEVENS. The mystery of her loveliness is beyond my comprehension : 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 employed, 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 Helena's behaviour, says

Alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears.” THEOBALD.

The late Mr. Hall had corrected this, I believe, rightly,-your lowliness. TYRWHITT.

I think Theobald's correction as plausible. To choose solitude is a mark of love. STEEVENS.

“ Your salt tears' head.” The source, the fountain of your tears, the cause of your grief. JOHNSON. - in their KIND -] i. e. in their

i. e. in their language, according to their nature.




Count. Love you my son ?

Do not you love him, madam ? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note : come, come, dis

The state of your affection ; for your passions
Have to the full appeach'd.

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.
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 6 : thus, Indian-like,


CAPTIous and INTENIBLE sieve,] The word captious I never found in this sense ; yet I cannot tell what to substitute, unless carious for rotten, which yet is a word more likely to have been mistaken by the copiers than used by the author. Johnson.

Dr. Farmer supposes captious to be a contraction of capacious. As violent ones are to be found among our ancient writers, and especially in Churchyard's Poems, with which Shakspeare was not unacquainted. Steevens.

By captious, I believe Shakspeare only meant recipient, capable of receiving what is put into it; and by intenible, incapable of holding or retaining it. How frequently he and the other writers of his age confounded the active and passive adjectives, has been already more than once observed.

The original copy reads--intemible. The correction was made in the second folio. Malone. 6 And lack not to lose still :] Perhaps we should read

“ And lack not to love still." TYRWHITT. I believe lose is right. So afterwards, in this speech:

hose state is such, that cannot se “ But lend and give, where she is sure to lose."

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 chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love 8; 0 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 ?

Madam, I had. COUNT.

Wherefore ? tell true

Helena means, I think, to say that, like a person who pours water into a vessel full of holes, and still continues his employment, though he finds the water all lost, and the vessel empty, so, though she finds that the waters of her love are still lost, that her affection is thrown away on an object whom she thinks she never can deserve, she yet is not discouraged, but perseveres in her hopeless endeavour to accomplish her wishes. The poet evidently alludes to the trite story of the daughters of Danaus.

MALONE. 7 Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,] i. e. whose respectable conduct in

shows, or proves,


you were no less virtuous when young. As a fact is proved by citing witnesses, or examples from books, our author, with his usual licence, uses to cite, in the same sense of to prove. Malone. 8 Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian

Was both herself and LOVE;] i. e. Venus. Helena means to say "If ever you wished that the deity who presides over chastity, and the queen of amorous rites, were one and the same person; or, in other words, if ever you wished for the honest and lawful completion of your chaste desires." I believe, however, the words were accidentally transposed at the press, and would read“Love dearly, and wish chastly, that your Dian,” &c.

MALONE. 9 - tell true.] This is an evident interpolation. It is needless, 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 willd me 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. Count.

This was your motive For Paris, was it ? speak.

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.

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,
Embowelld of their doctrine?, have left off
The danger to itself?

There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt


[ocr errors]

because it repeats what the Countess had already said: it is injurious, because it spoils the measure. Steevens.

- notes, whose faculties INCLUSIVE -] Receipts in which greater virtues were inclosed than appeared to observation.

Johnson. 2 EMBOWELL'D of their doctrine,] i. e. exhausted of their skill. So, in the old spurious play of K. John : “ Back war-men, back; embowel not the clime.”


« ZurückWeiter »