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With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then;
Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah.
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?
Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!2-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.
the Countess has just called for, brings an old ballad on the sacking of Troy to the Clown's mind. Fond done is foolishly done. twould mend the lottery well;] This surely is a strange kind of phraseology. I have never met with any example of it in any of the contemporary writers; and if there were any proof that in the lotteries of Queen Elizabeth's time wheels were employed, I should be inclined to read-lottery wheel. MALONE.
Clo. That man, &c.] Here is an allusion, violently enough forced in, to satirize the obstinacy with which the puritans refused the use of the ecclesiastical habits, which was, at that time, one principal cause of the breach of the union, and, perhaps, to insinuate, that the modest purity of the surplice was sometimes a cover for pride.
Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle. woman entirely.
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 ransome 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, 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 further anon. Exit Steward.
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;
sithence,] i. e. since.
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:
Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now.
I am a mother to you.
Hel. Mine honourable mistress.
Count. I say, I am your
You know, Helen,
Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, Methought you saw a serpent: What's in mother, That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine: "Tis often seen, Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds: You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Yet I express to you a mother's care:God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood, To say, I am thy mother? What's the matter, That this distemper'd messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye?' Why? -that you are my daughter? Hel.
That I am not.
The count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
4 By our remembrances-] That is, according to our recollection. So we say, he is old by my reckoning. JOHNSON. What's the matter,
That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ?] There is something exquisitely beautiful in this representation of that suffusion of colours which glimmers round the sight when the eye-lashes are wet with tears. HENLEY.
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, madam; 'Would you
(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) Indeed, my mother!-or were you both our
I care no more for," than I do for heaven,
God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother,
So strive upon your pulse: What, pale again?
• I care no more for,] There is a designed ambiguity: I care no more for, is, I care as much for. I wish it equally. FARMER. 7 strive] To strive is to contend.
8 Your salt tears' head.] The source, the fountain of you tears, the cause of your grief. JOHNSON.
in their kind-] i. e. in their language, according to their nature.
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
Good madam, pardon me!
Your pardon, noble mistress!
Hel. Count. Do you love my son? Hel. Count. Love you my son? Hel. Do not you love him, madam? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd.
My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit;
captious and intenible sieve,] Dr. Farmer supposes captious to be a contraction of capacious.
Mr. Malone thinks it means recipient, capable of receiving what is put into it; and by intenible, incapable of holding or retaining it.
2 And lack not to lose still:] Helena means to say, that, like a person who pours water into a vessel full of holes, and still continues his employment, though he finds the water all lost, and the vessel empty, so, though she finds that the waters of her love are still lost, that her affection is thrown away on an object whom she thinks she never can deserve, she yet is not discouraged, but perseveres in her hopeless endeavour to accomplish her wishes.