The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (326 page)

Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes

See it so grossly shown in thy behaviors

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 clew;

If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,

As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,

Tell me truly.

 Yes Helen, you could be my daughter-in-law.

I hope to God you don't mean it! Daughter and mother

seem to be words that upset you. What, you've gone pale again?

My fears have revealed newer affections: now I see

more you have been lonely, and

why the tears have been flowing: now it's perfectly obvious

that you love my son; there are no lying excuses

which can cover up your passion

and say it's not true: so tell me the truth;

just tell me, you know it's the truth; your blushes

give you away. Your eyes

show it so obviously

it's as if they are talking: only sin

and hell are making you keep your obstinate silence,

to try and cover up the truth. Speak, is this the case?

If it is so, you have weaved a tangled web;

if it is not, swear to it: whichever way, I order you,

as heaven shall help me to help you,

tell me the truth.

HELENA

Good madam, pardon me!

Good madam, forgive me!

COUNTESS

Do you love my son?

Do you love my son?

HELENA

Your pardon, noble mistress!

Noble mistress, please forgive me!

COUNTESS

Love you my son?

Do you love my son?

HELENA

Do not you love him, madam?

Don't you love him, madam?

COUNTESS

Go not about; my love hath in't a bond,

Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose

The state of your affection; for your passions

Have to the full appeach'd.

Don't change the subject; my love has a reason for it

acknowledged by society: come on, admit

to your feelings; for your passions

have given you away.

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; so's my love:

Be not offended; for it hurts not him

That he is loved 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: 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 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!

Then I admit,

here on my knees, before you and heaven,

that more than you, and equal to heaven,

I love your son.

My relatives were poor, but honest; and so is my love:

do not be cross; it does not hurt him

to be loved by me: I am not chasing after him

with impertinent demands;

nor would I have him until I deserve him, and

I do not know what I can do to deserve him.

I know that I love in vain, that it's probably hopeless;

but I still pour the water of my love

into this huge and leaky sieve

and still have plenty more to give: so, like an Indian

following a wrong religion, I worship

the sun, that looks down on his worshipper

but does not see him. My dearest madam,

do not hate me just because I love

the same one you do: if you yourself,

whose respect in age shows you had a virtuous youth,

ever felt such a true love that you

retained your chastity despite the fact

that your love was burning you up inside?

oh then give pity,

to her whose position is such that all she can do

please give her love where it is sure to be lost;

she does not think that she will get the thing she is looking for,

but paradoxically feels she's winning when she's losing.

COUNTESS

Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,--

To go to Paris?

Weren't you recently planning-tell the truth-

to go to Paris?

HELENA

Madam, I had.

Madam, I was.

COUNTESS

Wherefore? tell true.

Why? Tell the truth.

HELENA

I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.

You know my father left me some prescriptions

Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading

And manifest experience had collected

For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me

In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them,

As notes whose faculties inclusive were

More than they were in note: amongst the rest,

There is a remedy, approved, set down,

To cure the desperate languishings whereof

The king is render'd lost.

I will tell the truth; I swear by heaven.

You know my father left me some recipes for medicine

of great and proven worth, that he had collected

through his reading and great experience

for the good of all; and he ordered me

To keep them carefully tucked away,

as they were more effective than they were well known.

Amongst the rest there is a proven remedy written down

which can cure the terrible illness

which has attacked the King.

COUNTESS

This was your motive

For Paris, was it? speak.

And that was why you wanted

to go to Paris, was it? Out with it.

HELENA

My lord your son made me to think of this;

Else Paris and the medicine and the king

Had from the conversation of my thoughts

Haply been absent then.

My lord your son set me thinking of this;

otherwise Paris and the medicine and the King

would never have entered into my thoughts.

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 left off

The danger to itself?

But do you think, Helen,

that if you offer him your help

he would accept it? He and his physicians

think the same thing; he thinks that they cannot help him,

they think that they cannot help: what credence will they give

to a poor uneducated virgin, when all the educated

have run out of ideas and left the illness to run its course?

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 the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour

But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture

The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure

By such a day and hour.

There's something more in it

than my father's skill (and he was the greatest

of his profession) that means

this recipe he has given me will be blessed

by the luckiest stars in heaven: and if your honor

would just give me permission to try it I'll bet

my life on his Grace being cured

by a specific time I set.

COUNTESS

Dost thou believe't?

And you believe this is true?

HELENA

Ay, madam, knowingly.

Yes madam, I know it is.

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 to-morrow; and be sure of this,

What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.

Why then, Helen, you have my permission and my love,

you shall have money, servants, and take my loving greetings

to my relatives in the court: I'll stay at home

and pray that God blesses your efforts:

go tomorrow; and I can promise you

I'll leave no stone unturned to help you.

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