Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. For I the ballad will repeat, Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: But, if I may 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? Cio. In Isbel's case, and mine own. Service is no 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? 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. 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. Clo. You are shallow, madam ; e'en great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me, which I am a-weary of. He, that ears my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the crop: If I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he, that cherishes 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, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one, they may joll horns together, like any deer i' the herd. Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: 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 Was this king Priam's joy. And gave this sentence then; [Singing. 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! - Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wea, 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. Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman 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 vou, leave me stall this in your bosom, and I thank Hel. Mine honourable mistress. Nay, a mother; say, I am your mother. That I am not. Hel. Pardon, madam; The count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; No note upon my parents, his all noble : My master, my dear lord he is and I His servant live, and will his vassal die : He must not be my brother. : Count. were (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother,) I care no more for, than I do for heaven, God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and mother, Then, I confess Hel. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: 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 chastely, 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. Count. 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 Madam, I had. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, They, that they cannot help: How shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself? Hel. There's something hints, More than my father's skill, which was the greates Of his profession, that his good receipt SCENE I.- Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Flourish. Enter KING, with young Lords, taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and Attendants. King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike principles Do not throw from you: well: : -and you, my lord, fare Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, 1 Lord. King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty ! King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; They say, our Freneh lack language to deny, If they demand; beware of being captives, Before you serve. Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. . Come hither to me. [The KING retires to a touch. 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be hind us! Par. 'Tis not his fault; the spark 2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars! Par. Most admirable; I have seen those wars. Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with, Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early. Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely. Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn, But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. Par. Commit it, count. 2 Lord. I am your accessary; and so farewell. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. 2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles! Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: Par. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROlles. Enter LAFEU. Laf. Pardon, my lord, [kneeling.] for me and for my tidings. King. I'll fee thee to stand up. Laf. Then here's a man Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, you Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. King. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. Laf. Goodfaith, across; But, my good lord, 'tis thus; Will you be cured Of your infirmity? No. King. To give Great Charlemain a pen in his hand My father; in what he did profess, well found. Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so : We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us; and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate, I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. King. I cannot give thee less to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give, As one near death to those that wish him live: But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art. Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy: He that of greatest works is finisher, Oft does them by the weakest minister : So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources; and great seas have dried, When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits, Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid : But know I think, and think I know most sure, Hel. Tax of impudence, - A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,- King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak; His powerful sound, within an organ weak: In common sense, sense saves another way. Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property But, if I help, what do you promise me? What husband in thy power I will command: To choose from forth the royal blood of France; King. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, trust; Enter COUNTESS and Clown Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught I know my business is but to the court. : Count. To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt ? But to the court! Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court: but, for me, I have an answer will serve all men. Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all questions. Clo. It is like a barber's chair; that fits all buttocks; the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock. Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin. Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a foul. Clo. O Lord, sir,-Why, there't serves well again. Count. An end, sir, to your business: Give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back : Clo. Not much commendation to them. Count. Not much employment for you: You understand me? Clo. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III. Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence is it, that we make trifles of terrors; ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times. Ber. And so 'tis. Laf. To be relinquish'd of the artists, Par. So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus. Laf. That gave him out incurable. Par. Right as 'twere a man assured of an Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death. Par. Just, you say well; so would I have said. Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. Par. It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in, What do you call Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your there? constable, it will fit any question. Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands. Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't: Ask me, if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. Count. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier ? Clo. O Lord, sir, Theres a simple putting -more, more, a hundred of them. off; Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. Par. That's it I would have said; the very same. Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me I speak in respect. Par. Nay, tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he is of a most facinorous spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the Laf. Very hand of heaven. Laf. In a most weak Par. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made, than alone the recovery of the king, as to be Laf. Generally thankful. Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. Par. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king. Laf. Lustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: Why, he's able to lead her a coranto. Par. Mort du Vinaigre! Is not this Helen? King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.-[Exit an Attendas. Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; |