1 Clo. One good woman in ten, Madam, which is a purifying o' th' song: 'would God would serve the world fo all the year! we'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parfon. 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 furplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth, the business is for Helen to come hither. Count. Well, now. [Exit Stew. I know, Madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. 'Faith, I do; her father bequeath'd her to me; and she herself, without other advantages, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more ow ing her than is paid, and more shall be paid her than the'll demand. Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than 1 think she wish'd me; alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; the thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd not any stranger fenfe. Her matter was, the lov'd your fon: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two eftates; Love, no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Diana, no queen of virgins, that would fuffer her poor knight to be furpris'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of forrow that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in; which I held it my duty speedily to aquaint you withal; fithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you foniething to know it. Count. You have discharg'd this honeftly, 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 ftall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honeft care; I will speak with you further anon. SCENE VII. Enter Helena. [Exit Steward. Count. Ev'n so it was with me when I was young; Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood, is born; Such were our faults; O! then we thought them none. Hel. What is your pleasure, Madam? Count. Helen, you know, I am a mother to you. Count. Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? when I faid a mother, Count. I fay I am your mother. Hel. Pardon, Madam. The Count Roufillon cannot be my brother; No note upon my parents, his all noble. He muft not be my brother. VOL. III. B Count Count. Nor I your mother? Hel. You are my mother, Madam; would you were (So that my Lord, your fon, were not my brother) Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, (I can no more fear than I do fear heav'n,) So I were not his fifter: can't no other, But I your daughter, he must be my brother? Now I fee Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law; Hel. Good Madam, pardon mẹ. Hel. Do not you love him, Madam? Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Hel. Then, I confefs, Here on my knee, before high heav'ns and you, I love your fon. My friends were poor, but honeft; fo's my love. That he is lov'd of me; I follow him not By By any token of prefumptuous fuit; The fun that looks upon his worshipper, Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly, Hel. Madam, I had. Count. Wherefore? tell true. Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. For general fov'reignty; and that he will'd me, Count. This was your motive for Paris, was it, speak? Elfe Paris, and the medicine, and the King, Had from the converfation of my thoughts Haply been abfent then. Count. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed * aid, The danger to itself? Hel. There's fomething hints More than my father's skill, (which was the great'st Shall for my legacy be fanctified By th' luckiest stars in heav'n; and, would your Honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-loft life of mine on his Grace's cure, By such a day and hour. Count. Dost thou believe't? Hel. Ay, Madam, knowingly. Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love; Means and attendants; and my loving greetings ACT II. SCENE I. The Court of France. [Exeunt. Enter the King, with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles. Flourish cornets. King. FAREWELL, young Lords: these warlike principles Do not throw from you: you, my Lords, farewell; 1 Lord. 'Tis our hope, Sir, After well-enter'd foldiers, to return King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart * Propping, supporting. Will |