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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 ber; Helen I mean. Clown. Was this fair face the cause, quoth
[singing.] Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond ,
Was this king Priam's joy.
this sentence then;
There's yet one good in ten. Count. What, one good in ten ? you corrupt
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 tythe-womau, 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 I 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.)
Count. Well, now.
your gentle woman entirely. Vol. III.
Count. 'Faith, I do: her father bequeath'd 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 wish'd me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself, her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd 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 deliver'd 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 inform’d 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.
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; It is the shew and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is imprest in youth:
By our remembrances of days foregone,
is sick on't; I observe her now. Hel.' What is your pleasure, madam ?
Count. You know, Helen, I ain a mother to you.
Hel. Mine honourable mistress.
Count. 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
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,
Hel. That I am not.
Hel. Pardon, madam;
Count. Nor I your mnother?
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,
Hel. Good madam, pardon me!
Gount. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond,
Hel. Then, I confess,
love: Be not offended; for it hurts not him, That he is loy'd 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 chastly, 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.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, To go to Paris ?
Hel. Madam, I had.
Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear.