In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;

Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,

As in your royal speech.

291

King. Would, I were with him! He would always

say

(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them

To grow there, and to bear)—Let me not live-
-Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out-let me not live (quoth he),
After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits; whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Meer fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions:-This he wish'd.
I, after him, do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

To give some labourer room.

2 Lord. You are lov'd, sir;

300

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. 310 King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long is't,

count,

Since the physician at your father's died?

He was much fam'd.

Ber, Some six months since, my lord.

King. If he were living, I would try him yet;Lend me an arm ;- -the rest have worn me out With several applications :-nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure.-Welcome, count, My son's no dearer.

Ber. Thank your majesty.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

1

SCENE III.

A Room in the Count's Palace. Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown.

Count. I will now hear, what say you of this gentlewoman?¡

322

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah; the complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness that I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries your's. 332 Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, that I am a poor fellow.

Count. Well, sir.

Clo.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damn'd: but, if I have your ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case?

340

Service is no

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. heritage; and, I think, I shall never have the blessing of God, 'till I have issue of my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason?

350

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

4

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to

have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

ვნე

Clo. You are shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a weary of. He, that eares my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop If I be his cuck

old,

old, he's my drudge. He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he, that cherisheth my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he, that loves my flesh and 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, howsce'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one; they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

375 Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and a calumnious knave?

Clo. A prophet, I, madam; I speak the truth the next way:

"For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true "shall find

;

"Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckoo "sings by kind.”

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.

Clo. "Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,

"Why the Grecians sacked Troy?

[Singing.

"Fond

"Fond done, done fond;

"Was this king Priam's joy?

"With that she sighed as she stood,
"With that she sighed as she stood,

"And gave this sentence then ;
"Among nine bad if one be good,
"Among nine bad if one be good,
"There's yet one good in ten.'

390

Count. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. 399

Clo. 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 tythe-woman, if I were the parson : One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman born but 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 I command you?

409

Clo. 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.

Count. Well, now.

Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

Count.