Where love's strong passion is impress'd 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.
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam?
Count. [You know, Helen,]
I am a mother to you.
Hel. Mine honourable mistress.
130
Count. [Nay,] a mother: