Page 799 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

Where love’s strong passion is impressed in youth.
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults, or then we thought them none.
Her eye is sick on’t; I observe her now.

HELENA
What is your pleasure, madam?

COUNTESS
You know, Helen, [130]
I am a mother to you.

HELENA
Mine honourable mistress.

COUNTESS
Nay, a mother.
Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother’,

Methought you saw a serpent. What’s in ‘mother’
That you start at it? I say I am your mother, [135]
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombèd mine. ’Tis often seen

Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds.
You ne’er oppressed me with a mother’s groan, [140]
Yet I express to you a mother’s care.

God’s mercy, maiden! Does it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother? What’s the matter,
That this distempered messenger of wet,
The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye? [145]

Why, that you are my daughter?

HELENA
That I am not.

COUNTESS
I say I am your mother.