Helen of Rossillion

Countess
In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
Bertram
And I in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s
death anew; but I must attend his Majesty’s
command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore
in subjection.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessive grief the enemy to the living

Lafew
You shall find of the King a husband,
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Lafew
Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit
of your father. Bertram and Lafew exit.
Helen
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.

Th’ ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love.
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Parolles
Are you meditating on virginity?
Helen
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.
Helen
But he assails, and our virginity, though
valiant in the defense,
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Parolles
Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember
thee, I will think of thee at court.
Helen
Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a
charitable star.
Parolles
Under Mars, I.Hyperbaton & Ellipsis
Helen
I especially think under Mars.

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
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Countess
You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
Helen
Mine honorable mistress.

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

Countess
Nay, a mother.
Why not a mother? When I said “a mother,”
Methought you saw a serpent.
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King 
Now, fair one, does your business follow us?
Helen
Ay, my good lord,
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
In what he did profess well found.
King
I knew him.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises, and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest and despair most shifts.
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Helen, to Bertram 
I dare not say I take you, but I give
Me and my service ever whilst I live
Into your guiding power.—This is the man.
King
Why then, young Bertram, take her. She’s thy wife.
Bertram 
My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your Highness
In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.
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Helen
Pray, sir, your pardon.
Bertram
Well, what would you say?

Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss

Helen
I am not worthy of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I say ’tis mine—and yet it is—
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
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“Till I have no wife I have nothing in France.”
Nothing in France until he has no wife.
Thou shalt have none, Rossillion, none in France.
Then hast thou all again.

O you leaden messengers
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-‘pearing air
That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.
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Widow 
Though my estate be fall’n, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act.

Let us assay our plot, which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact.
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