blood, is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife, is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one: they may joll1 horns together, like any deer i' the herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clown. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next 2 way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find ; Your marriage comes by destiny, Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you? of her I am to speak. Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her :-Helen I mean. Clown. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, [singing. Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this king Priam's joy. With that she sighed as she stood, J Clash. 2 Nearest. Foolishly done. Among nine bad if one be good, Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. Clown. One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman born but or every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one. Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as 1 command you? Clown. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!-Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt: it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit Clown Count. Well, now. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman intirely. Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than she 'll demand. Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than, I think, she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence,1 in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. Count. You have discharged this honestly: keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you farther [Exit Stew. anon. Enter HELENA. Count. Even so it was with me when I was young: If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born : 1 Since. It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 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? I am a mother to you: Hel. Mine honorable mistress. Count. You know, Helen, Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, Hel. That I am not Pardon, madam; Count. I say, I am your mother. Hel. The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: My master, my dear lord he is; and I 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 1 I do for heaven, 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 daughterin-law: God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross, To say, thou dost not: therefore tell me true; That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? 1 I wish it equally as. 2 Contend. |