_Hel._ That I am not. _Count._ I say, I am your mother. _Hel._ Pardon, madam; 145 The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: 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: 150 He must not be my brother. _Count._ Nor I your mother? _Hel._ You are my mother, 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, 155 So I were not his sister. 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? 160 My fear hath catch'd 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 ashamed, Against the proclamation of thy passion, 165 To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeks Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, That in their kind they speak it: only sin 170 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, 175 To tell me truly. _Hel._ Good madam, pardon me! _Count._ Do you love my son? _Hel._ Your pardon, noble mistress! _Count._ Love you my son? _Hel._ Do not you love him, madam? _Count._ Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose 180 The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd.