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. Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt sirrah. the song, 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-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 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 bu sinels is for Helen to come hither. Count. Well, now. [Exit.] Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentle woman entirely. 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. : Her 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. 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 lofs 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. [Exit Steward.] 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, Such were our faults; or then we thought them none. Here eye is sick on't; I observe her now. I am a mother to you. Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, 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 opprefs'd me with a mother's groan, Count. I say, I am your mother. The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; No note upon my parents, his all noble: 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 I do for heaven, God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, So strive upon your pulse: What, pale again? That truth should be suspected: Speak, is't so? Hel. Good madam, pardon me! Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress! 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, dis close The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. Hel. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 1 My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Nor would I have him, till I do deserve him; The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, Wish chastly, and love dearly, that your Dian Hel. Madam, I had. Gount. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. You know, my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading, And manifest experience, had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfullest reservation to bestow them, As notes, whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note: amongst the rest, There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, To cure the desperate languishings, whereof The king is render'd lost. |