Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son.
Then, I confess, Here on my knees, before heaven and you, That before you, and in front of heaven, I love your son.
Helena · Act 1, Scene 3
Helena admits her love for Bertram to the Countess after careful questioning, kneeling before her as if confessing a sin. The line matters because it is the first moment Helena speaks her desire aloud without disguise or calculation. Her love is real even if her methods to achieve marriage are not, and this confession establishes her as someone torn between emotion and pragmatism.
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 confess, Here on my knees, before heaven and you, That before you, and in front of heaven, I love your son. My family was poor, but honest; and so is my love: Please don’t be upset; it doesn’t hurt him That I love him: I don’t follow him By any sign of presumptuous desire; Nor would I want him until I deserve him; Though I never know what that deserving would be. I know I love in vain, hoping against hope; Yet in this complex and impossible situation I still pour my love into the sieve And keep losing it: like a fool, Religious in my mistake, I worship The sun, that looks at its worshippers, But doesn’t know them. My dearest madam, Don’t let your hatred get in the way of my love For loving where you do: but if you, Who with your age and honor encourages virtuous youth, Ever in such a pure flame of affection Wished chastely and loved dearly, like your Diana Was both herself and love: oh, then have pity On her whose state is such that she can’t choose But give and give where she’s sure to lose; Who doesn’t seek to find what her search implies, But lives, like a riddle, sweetly where she dies!
Helena · Act 1, Scene 3
Helena kneels before the Countess and declares her love for Bertram in a speech that moves from confession to prayer to philosophy. This passage endures because it captures the paradox of loving someone you know will never love you back and choosing to do it anyway, fully aware of the cost. Helena's willingness to pursue an impossible love, knowing she cannot succeed but refusing to stop trying, becomes the moral engine of the entire play.
You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
Countess of Roussillon · Act 1, Scene 3
The Countess has just caught Helena weeping and now directly names the relationship between them, moving past courtesy into maternal claim. The line matters because the Countess is not speaking a social formula but asserting a fact: Helena belongs to her as a daughter belongs to a mother, and that bond is real. It establishes the emotional center of the play — a love that persists despite law and rank.
