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(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
2 Lord. You're loved, Sir ; They, that least lend it
firft. 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 ;
Ber. Thank your Majesty. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Countess's at Rousillon.
Enter Countess, Steward and Clown.
Sirrah: the complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe ; 'tis my flowness that I do not, for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
Cio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam ; 'tis not so well that I am poor, tho' 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. In Isbel's case, and mine own ; service is no he. ritage, 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?
Clo. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
Count. May the world know them ?
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.
Cl. I am out of friends, Madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clown. Y'are shallow, Madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am weary of; he, that eares my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inne the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge ; he, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my Aesh and blood ; he, that cherisheth my flesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood ; he, that loves my Aesh 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, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one ; they may joul horns together, like any deer i'th' herd.
Corent. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave?
Clo. A prophet, I, Madam ; and I speak the truth the next way; “ For I the ballad will repeat, which men full true
66 shall find ; “ Your marriage comes by destiny, your cuckow 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, (4)
[Singing Why the Grecians facked Troy? " Fond done, fond done ; - for Paris, he, (4) Was this fair Face the Cause, quoth She,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Was this King Priam's Joy?] As the Stanza, that fol. lows, is in alternate Rryme, and as a Rhyme is here wanting to She in the first Verse ; 'ris evident, the third Line is wanting. The old Folio's give us a Part of it; but how to supply the loft Part, was the Question. Mr. Rowe has given us the Fragment honestly, as he found it : but Ms. Pope, rather than to seem founder'd, has ilink it upon Us. I communicated to my ingenious Frierid Mi. Warburton, how I found the ParSage in the old Books ;
[Fond done, done, fond,
Was this King Priam's Joy?} And from Him I received that Supplement, which i have given so the Text. And the Historians tell us, it was Paris who was Priam's favourite Son.
“ Was this King Priam's joy.
Among nine bad if one be good, “ There's yet one good in ten,
Count. What, one good in ten ? You corrupt the song, Sirrah.
Clo. One good woman in ten, Malam, which is a purifying o'th' iong: '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?
Clo. That man that should be at a woman's command, and yet no hurt done! tho' honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplis of humility over the black gown of a big heart: I am going, forsooch, the businels is for Helen to come hither.
[Exit. Count. Well, now.
Stew. I know, Madam, you love your gentlewoman intirely.
Count. Faith, I do ; her father bequeath'd her to me; and the herself, without other advantages, 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. Madai), I was very late more near her, than, I think, the " h'd me; alone ihe was, and did communicate to hrseif her own words to her own ears ; the thought, I are vow for her, they touchd not any ftranger sense. Her matter was, me lov'd your fon ; Fortune, she said, was no Goddess, (5) that had put
such (3) Fortune, he said, was no Goddess, &c. Love, no God, &c. complain'd ag init the Queen of Virgins, &c.] This Passage ftands thus in the old Copies :
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 surpriz'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in ; which I held it my duty speedily to acquaint you withal ; fithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it.
Count. You have dischargʻd this honestly, keep it to yourself; many likelihoods informd 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
honest care ; I will speak with you further anon.
[Exit Steward. Enter Helena. Court. Ev’n so it was with me, when I was young ;
If we are nature's, these are ours : this thorn
Our blood to us, this to our blood, is born ;
Love, no God, that would not extend his Might only where Qualities were level, Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Kright, &c.
'Tis evident to every sensible Reader that something must have Ript out here, by which the Meaning of the Context is render'd defective. The Steward is speaking in the very Words he overheard of the Young Lady; Fortune was no Goddess, fhe said, for one Reason ; Love, no God, for another; what could She then more naturally subjoin, than as I have &mended in the Text:
Diana, no Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Knight bo be surpriz'd without Rescue, &c.
For in Poetical History Diana was as well known to preside over Chastity, as Cupid over Love, or Fortune over the Change or Regular ion of our circumftances.