id stringlengths 16 16 | text stringlengths 151 2.3k | word_count int64 30 60 | source stringclasses 1 value |
|---|---|---|---|
twg_000000014100 | be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call, Her love, for whose dear love I rise and fall. In loving thee thou knowst I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing, In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn, In vowing new hate after | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014101 | new love bearing: But why of two oaths breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most, For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee: And all my honest faith in thee is lost. For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness: Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, And to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014102 | enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see. For I have sworn thee fair: more perjured I, To swear against the truth so foul a lie. Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep, A maid of Dians this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014103 | that ground: Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love, A dateless lively heat still to endure, And grew a seething bath which yet men prove, Against strange maladies a sovereign cure: But at my mistress eye Loves brand new-fired, The boy for trial needs would touch my breast, I sick withal the help of bath desired, And thither hied | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014104 | a sad distempered guest. But found no cure, the bath for my help lies, Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress eyes. The little Love-god lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep, Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand, The fairest votary took up that fire, Which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014105 | many legions of true hearts had warmed, And so the general of hot desire, Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarmed. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Loves fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy, For men diseased; but I, my mistress thrall, Came there for cure and this by that I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014106 | prove, Loves fire heats water, water cools not love. THE END ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL Contents ACT I Scene I. Rossillon. A room in the Countesss palace. Scene II. Paris. A room in the Kings palace. Scene III. Rossillon. A Room in the Palace. ACT II Scene I. Paris. A room in the Kings palace. Scene II. Rossillon. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014107 | room in the Countesss palace. Scene III. Paris. The Kings palace. Scene IV. Paris. The Kings palace. Scene V. Another room in the same. ACT III Scene I. Florence. A room in the Dukes palace. Scene II. Rossillon. A room in the Countesss palace. Scene III. Florence. Before the Dukes palace. Scene IV. Rossillon. A room in the Countesss palace. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014108 | Scene V. Without the walls of Florence. Scene VI. Camp before Florence. Scene VII. Florence. A room in the Widows house. ACT IV Scene I. Without the Florentine camp. Scene II. Florence. A room in the Widows house. Scene III. The Florentine camp. Scene IV. Florence. A room in the Widows house. Scene V. Rossillon. A room in the Countesss | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014109 | palace. ACT V Scene I. Marseilles. A street. Scene II. Rossillon. The inner court of the Countesss palace. Scene III. The same. A room in the Countesss palace. Dramatis Person KING OF FRANCE. THE DUKE OF FLORENCE. BERTRAM, Count of Rossillon. LAFEW, an old Lord. PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram. Several young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014110 | Florentine War. RYNALDO, servant to the Countess of Rossillon. Clown, servant to the Countess of Rossillon. A Page, servant to the Countess of Rossillon. COUNTESS OF ROSSILLON, mother to Bertram. HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess. An old WIDOW of Florence. DIANA, daughter to the Widow. VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow. MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014111 | Widow. Lords attending on the KING; Officers; Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. SCENE: Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. ACT I SCENE I. Rossillon. A room in the Countesss palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rossillon, Helena, and Lafew, all in black. COUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. BERTRAM. And I in going, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014112 | madam, weep oer my fathers death anew; but I must attend his majestys command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. LAFEW. You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014113 | up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. COUNTESS. What hope is there of his majestys amendment? LAFEW. He hath abandond his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. COUNTESS. This young gentlewoman had a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014114 | fatherO that had!, how sad a passage tis!whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretchd so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would for the kings sake he were living! I think it would be the death of the kings disease. LAFEW. How called you the man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014115 | you speak of, madam? COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. LAFEW. He was excellent indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have livd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. BERTRAM. What is it, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014116 | my good lord, the king languishes of? LAFEW. A fistula, my lord. BERTRAM. I heard not of it before. LAFEW. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? COUNTESS. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises her dispositions she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014117 | inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too. In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. LAFEW. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. COUNTESS. Tis the best brine a maiden can season her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014118 | praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have. HELENA. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. LAFEW. Moderate lamentation is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014119 | the right of the dead; excessive grief the enemy to the living. COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEW. How understand we that? COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! Thy blood and virtue Contend for empire | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014120 | in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none. Be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own lifes key. Be checkd for silence, But never taxd for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014121 | on thy head! Farewell. My lord, Tis an unseasond courtier; good my lord, Advise him. LAFEW. He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. [_Exit Countess._] BERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forgd in your thoughts be servants to you! [_To Helena._] Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014122 | much of her. LAFEW. Farewell, pretty lady, you must hold the credit of your father. [_Exeunt Bertram and Lafew._] HELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father, And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him; my imagination Carries no favour int but Bertrams. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014123 | I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me. In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. Thambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014124 | mated by the lion Must die for love. Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our hearts table,heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour. But now hes gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014125 | Enter Parolles. One that goes with him: I love him for his sake, And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fixd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtues steely bones Looks bleak i th cold wind: withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014126 | waiting on superfluous folly. PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen! HELENA. And you, monarch! PAROLLES. No. HELENA. And no. PAROLLES. Are you meditating on virginity? HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? PAROLLES. Keep him out. HELENA. But he assails; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014127 | and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES. There is none. Man setting down before you will undermine you and blow you up. HELENA. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014128 | quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014129 | being once lost, may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost. Tis too cold a companion. Away with it! HELENA. I will stand fort a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES. Theres little can be said int; tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014130 | your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014131 | idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose byt. Out witht! Within the year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with it! HELENA. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014132 | liking? PAROLLES. Let me see. Marry, ill, to like him that neer it likes. Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth. Off witht while tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion, richly suited, but unsuitable, just like the brooch and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014133 | toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French witherd pears; it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, tis a witherd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet tis a witherd pear. Will you anything with it? HELENA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014134 | Not my virginity yet. There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear: His humble ambition, proud humility, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014135 | Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he I know not what he shall. God send him well! The courts a learning-place; and he is one. PAROLLES. What one, i faith? HELENA. That I wish well. Tis pity PAROLLES. Whats pity? HELENA. That wishing well had not a body int Which might be felt, that we, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014136 | the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And show what we alone must think, which never Returns us thanks. Enter a Page. PAGE. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [_Exit Page._] PAROLLES. Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014137 | court. HELENA. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. PAROLLES. Under Mars, I. HELENA. I especially think, under Mars. PAROLLES. Why under Mars? HELENA. The wars hath so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars. PAROLLES. When he was predominant. HELENA. When he was retrograde, I think rather. PAROLLES. Why think you so? HELENA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014138 | You go so much backward when you fight. PAROLLES. Thats for advantage. HELENA. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. PAROLLES. I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely. I will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014139 | return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtiers counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014140 | good husband, and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. [_Exit._] HELENA. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see, and cannot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014141 | feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The kings disease,my project may deceive me, But my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014142 | intents are fixd, and will not leave me. [_Exit._] SCENE II. Paris. A room in the Kings palace. Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others attending. KING. The Florentines and Senoys are by th ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war. FIRST LORD. So tis reported, sir. KING. Nay, tis | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014143 | most credible, we here receive it, A certainty, vouchd from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial. FIRST LORD. His love and wisdom, Approvd so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. KING. He hath armd our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014144 | answer, And Florence is denied before he comes: Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part. SECOND LORD. It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. KING. Whats he comes here? Enter Bertram, Lafew and Parolles. FIRST LORD. It is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014145 | the Count Rossillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. KING. Youth, thou bearst thy fathers face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composd thee. Thy fathers moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. BERTRAM. My thanks and duty are your majestys. KING. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014146 | in friendship First tried our soldiership. He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long, But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father; in his youth He had the wit which I can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014147 | well observe Today in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awakd them, and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014148 | bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obeyd his hand. Who were below him He usd as creatures of another place, And bowd his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility, In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times; Which, followed well, would demonstrate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014149 | them now But goers backward. BERTRAM. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech. KING. Would I were with him! He would always say, Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatterd not in ears, but grafted them To grow there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014150 | and to bear,Let me not live, This his good melancholy oft began On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out,Let me not live quoth he, After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014151 | their fashions. This he wishd. I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive To give some labourers room. SECOND LORD. Youre lovd, sir; They that least lend it you shall lack you first. KING. I fill a place, I knowt. How long ist, Count, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014152 | Since the physician at your fathers died? He was much famd. BERTRAM. Some six months since, my lord. KING. If he were living, I would try him yet; Lend me an arm;the rest have worn me out With several applications; nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count; My sons no dearer. BERTRAM. Thank your majesty. [_Exeunt. Flourish._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014153 | SCENE III. Rossillon. A Room in the Palace. Enter Countess, Steward and Clown. COUNTESS. I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman? STEWARD. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014154 | deservings, when of ourselves we publish them. COUNTESS. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; tis my slowness that I do not; for I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. CLOWN. Tis not unknown to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014155 | you, madam, I am a poor fellow. COUNTESS. Well, sir. CLOWN. No, madam, tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned; but if I may have your ladyships good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. COUNTESS. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? CLOWN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014156 | I do beg your good will in this case. COUNTESS. In what case? CLOWN. In Isbels case and mine own. Service is no heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue of my body; for they say barnes are blessings. COUNTESS. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. CLOWN. My poor | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014157 | body, madam, requires it; I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives. COUNTESS. Is this all your worships reason? CLOWN. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. COUNTESS. May the world know them? CLOWN. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014158 | are; and indeed I do marry that I may repent. COUNTESS. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. CLOWN. I am out of friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wifes sake. COUNTESS. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. CLOWN. Yare shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014159 | a-weary of. He that ears my land spares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop: if I be his cuckold, hes my drudge. He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014160 | friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, howsomeer their hearts are severd in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together like any deer i the herd. COUNTESS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014161 | Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthd and calumnious knave? CLOWN. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: _For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind._ COUNTESS. Get you gone, sir; Ill talk with you more anon. STEWARD. May it please you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014162 | madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak. COUNTESS. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. CLOWN. [_Sings._] _ Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priams joy? With that she sighed as she stood, With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014163 | that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, Theres yet one good in ten._ COUNTESS. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. CLOWN. One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o the song. Would God would serve | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014164 | the world so all the year! Wed find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a! And we might have a good woman born but or every blazing star, or at an earthquake, twould mend the lottery well; a man may draw his heart out ere he pluck one. COUNTESS. Youll be gone, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014165 | sir knave, and do as I command you! CLOWN. That man should be at womans command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth; the business is for Helen to come hither. [_Exit._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014166 | COUNTESS. Well, now. STEWARD. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. COUNTESS. Faith I do. Her father bequeathd her to me, and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds; there is more owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than shell demand. STEWARD. Madam, I was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014167 | very late more near her than I think she wishd me; alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touchd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014168 | 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 surprisd, without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she deliverd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that eer I heard virgin exclaim in, which I held my duty speedily to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014169 | acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. COUNTESS. You have dischargd this honestly; keep it to yourself; many likelihoods informd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014170 | you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon. [_Exit Steward._] Enter Helena. Even so it was with me when I was young; If ever we are natures, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014171 | of natures truth, Where loves strong passion is impressd in youth. By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick ont; I observe her now. HELENA. What is your pleasure, madam? COUNTESS. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. HELENA. Mine honourable mistress. COUNTESS. Nay, a mother. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014172 | Why not a mother? When I said a mother, Methought you saw a serpent. Whats 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. You neer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014173 | oppressd me with a mothers groan, Yet I express to you a mothers care. Gods mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? Whats the matter, That this distempered messenger of wet, The many-colourd Iris, rounds thine eye? Why, that you are my daughter? HELENA. That I am not. COUNTESS. I say, I am your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014174 | mother. HELENA. Pardon, madam; The Count Rossillon cannot be my brother. I am from humble, he from honoured 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. COUNTESS. Nor I your mother? HELENA. You are my mother, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014175 | 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 heaven, So I were not his sister. Cant no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNTESS. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. God | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014176 | shield you mean it not! daughter and mother So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? My fear hath catchd 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 ashamd, Against the proclamation of thy passion To say thou dost not. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014177 | Therefore tell me true; But tell me then, tis so; for, look, thy cheeks Confess it, tone to thother; 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, ist so? If it be so, you have wound | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014178 | a goodly clew; If it be not, forsweart: howeer, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly. HELENA. Good madam, pardon me. COUNTESS. Do you love my son? HELENA. Your pardon, noble mistress. COUNTESS. Love you my son? HELENA. Do not you love him, madam? COUNTESS. Go not about; my love hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014179 | int a bond Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose The state of your affection, for your passions Have to the full appeachd. HELENA. 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; sos my love. Be not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014180 | offended; for it hurts not him That he is lovd 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 inteemable sieve I still pour in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014181 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014182 | in so true a flame of liking, Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love; O 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! COUNTESS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014183 | Had you not lately an intent,speak truly, To go to Paris? HELENA. Madam, I had. COUNTESS. Wherefore? tell true. HELENA. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and provd effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he willd me In | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014184 | heedfullst reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note. Amongst the rest There is a remedy, approvd, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The king is renderd lost. COUNTESS. This was your motive For Paris, was it? Speak. HELENA. My lord your son made me to think of this; Else | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014185 | Paris, and the medicine, and the king, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014186 | virgin, when the schools, Embowelld of their doctrine, have let off The danger to itself? HELENA. Theres something int More than my fathers skill, which was the greatst 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, Id venture | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014187 | The well-lost life of mine on his graces cure. By such a day, an hour. COUNTESS. Dost thou believet? 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. Ill stay at home, And pray Gods blessing into thy attempt. Be gone tomorrow; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014188 | and be sure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. [_Exeunt._] ACT II. SCENE I. Paris. A room in the Kings palace. Flourish. Enter the King with young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram, Parolles and Attendants. KING. Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles Do not throw from you; and you, my lords, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014189 | farewell; Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as tis receivd, And is enough for both. FIRST LORD. Tis our hope, sir, After well-entred 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014190 | 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 monarchysee 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014191 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014192 | 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 the next year and tis too early. PAROLLES. An thy mind stand tot, boy, steal away bravely. BERTRAM. I shall stay | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014193 | 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, Ill steal away. FIRST LORD. Theres 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014194 | is a torturd 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 entrenchd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014195 | 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 restraind yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014196 | 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 receivd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014197 | like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [_Exeunt Bertram and Parolles._] Enter Lafew. LAFEW. Pardon, my lord [_kneeling_], for me and for my tidings. KING. Ill fee thee to stand up. LAFEW. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneeld, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014198 | stand up. KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And askd thee mercy fort. LAFEW. Good faith, across; But, my good lord, tis thus: will you be curd Of your infirmity? KING. No. LAFEW. O, will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will My noble grapes, and if my royal fox Could | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000014199 | reach them. I have seen a medicine Thats able to breathe 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 Pippen, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen ins hand And write to her a love-line. KING. What her is this? LAFEW. Why, doctor | 60 | gutenberg |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.