The Stratford gallery; . ther tribute at thy handsBut love, fair looks, and true obedience—Too little payment for so great a debt.Such duty as the subject owes the prince,Even such a woman owetb to her husband ;And when shes froward, peevish, sullen, sour,And not obedient to his honest will,What is she but a foul contending rebel,And graceless traitor to her loving lord ?—I am ashanid that women are so simple,To offer war where they should kneel for peace ;Or seek for ride, supremacy, and sway,When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,Unapt to t

- Image ID: 2AJ8P95
The Stratford gallery; . ther tribute at thy handsBut love, fair looks, and true obedience—Too little payment for so great a debt.Such duty as the subject owes the prince,Even such a woman owetb to her husband ;And when shes froward, peevish, sullen, sour,And not obedient to his honest will,What is she but a foul contending rebel,And graceless traitor to her loving lord ?—I am ashanid that women are so simple,To offer war where they should kneel for peace ;Or seek for ride, supremacy, and sway,When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,Unapt to t
The Reading Room / Alamy Stock Photo
Image ID: 2AJ8P95
The Stratford gallery; . ther tribute at thy handsBut love, fair looks, and true obedience—Too little payment for so great a debt.Such duty as the subject owes the prince,Even such a woman owetb to her husband ;And when shes froward, peevish, sullen, sour,And not obedient to his honest will,What is she but a foul contending rebel,And graceless traitor to her loving lord ?—I am ashanid that women are so simple,To offer war where they should kneel for peace ;Or seek for ride, supremacy, and sway,When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,Unapt to toil, and trouble, in the world,But that our soft conditions, and our hearts,Should well agree with our external parts?Come, come, you froward and unable worms !My mind hath been as big as one of yours,My heart as great—my reason, haply, more,To bandy word for word, and frown for frown ;But now I see our lances are but straws,Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare-That seeming to be most which we least are.. HELENA. Helena was the daughter of Gerard de Narbon, a poor butfamous physician, who, at his death, left her to the motherly careof the noble and wealthy Countess of Kousillon. This lady havinglately lost her husband, who was in high favor with the king ofFrance, his Majesty despatched one of his courtiers to the coun-tesss palace, with commands for her son Bertram, that he shouldforthwith accompany the messenger to court; the young countobeyed with alacrity. The good king was at this time suffering acutely, with a diseasethat baffled all the skill of his physicians. Helena—who washopelessly in love with Bertram, and to whom any suggestion waswelcome that afforded her an excuse for following him to Paris—was moved by the melancholy case of the king to try the virtuesof a precious prescription left by her father, and which he had de-clared infallible in the very disease of which the French monarchlanguished. So she besought permission of her generous mistre

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