His plausive60 words

He scattered not in ears, but grafted61 them,

To grow there and to bear62 — ‘Let me not live’ —

This his good melancholy oft began

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime64,

When it was out65 — ‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,

‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff66

Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive67 senses

All but new things disdain; whose judgements are

Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies69

Expire before their fashions.’ This he wished.

I, after him, do after him wish too71,

Since I nor72 wax nor honey can bring home,

I quickly were dissolvèd73 from my hive

To give some labourers74 room.

SECOND LORD    You’re loved, sir.

They that least lend it you shall lack76 you first.

KING    I fill a place, I know’t. How long is’t, count,

Since the physician at your father’s died?

He was much famed.

BERTRAM    Some six months since, my lord.

KING    If he were living, I would try him yet.

Lend me an arm: the rest82 have worn me out

With several applications.83 Nature and sickness

Debate it84 at their leisure. Welcome, count.

My son’s no dearer.

BERTRAM    Thank your majesty.

Exeunt. Flourish

[Act 1 Scene 3]

running scene 3

Enter Countess, Steward [Reynaldo] and Clown [Lavatch]

COUNTESS    I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?1

REYNALDO    Madam, the care I have had to even your content2, I

wish might be found in the calendar3 of my past endeavours,

for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness4

of our deservings5, when of ourselves we publish them.

COUNTESS    What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah.6

The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe. ’Tis

my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to

commit them, and have ability enough to make such

knaveries yours.

LAVATCH    ’Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor11 fellow.

COUNTESS    Well12, sir.

LAVATCH    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 woman15 and

I will do16 as we may.

COUNTESS    Wilt thou needs17 be a beggar?

LAVATCH    I do beg your good will in this case.

COUNTESS    In what case?

LAVATCH    In Isbel’s case and mine own. Service is no heritage20:

and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have

issue o’my body, for they say bairns22 are blessings.

COUNTESS    Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

LAVATCH    My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by

the flesh, and he must needs go25 that the devil drives.

COUNTESS    Is this all your worship’s26 reason?

LAVATCH    Faith, madam, I have other holy27 reasons, such as

they are.

COUNTESS    May the world29 know them?

LAVATCH    I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and

all flesh and blood are, and indeed I do marry that I may

repent.32

COUNTESS    Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

LAVATCH    I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have

friends for my wife’s sake.35

COUNTESS    Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

LAVATCH    You’re shallow, madam, in37 great friends, for the

knaves come to do38 that for me which I am aweary of. He that

ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in39 the

crop. If I be his cuckold, he’s my drudge; he that comforts40 my

wife is the cherisher41 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: ergo43, he that kisses my wife is my

friend. If men could be contented to be what they are44, there

were no fear in marriage, for young Charbon the Puritan45

and old Poysam the Papist, howsome’er46 their hearts are

severed in religion, their heads are both one. They may jowl47

horns together, like any deer i’th’herd.

COUNTESS    Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious49

knave?

LAVATCH    A prophet I, madam, and I speak the truth the

next52 way.

Sings

               For I the ballad will repeat,

               Which men full true shall find:

               Your marriage comes by destiny,

               Your cuckoo sings by kind.56

COUNTESS    Get you gone, sir. I’ll talk with you more anon.57

REYNALDO    May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come

to you: of her I am to speak.

To Lavatch

COUNTESS    Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would

speak with her — Helen, I mean.

Sings

LAVATCH    ‘Was this fair face the cause,’ quoth she62,

               ‘Why the Grecians sackèd Troy?63

               Fond64 done, done fond,

               Was this King Priam’s65 joy?’

               With that she sighèd as she stood,

               With that she sighèd as she stood,

               And gave this sentence68 then:

               ‘Among69 nine bad if one be good,

               Among nine bad if one be good,

               There’s yet one good in ten.’

COUNTESS    What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song72,

sirrah.

LAVATCH    One good woman in ten, madam; which is a

purifying o’th’song. Would God would serve the world75 so all

the year! We’d find no fault with the tithe-woman76, if I were

the parson. One in ten, quoth a? An77 we might have a good

woman born but ere every blazing star78, or at an earthquake,

’twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw79 his heart

out ere a pluck one.80

COUNTESS    You’ll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you?

LAVATCH    That82 man should be at woman’s command, and yet

no hurt done! Though honesty83 be no puritan, yet it will do

no hurt. It will wear the surplice of humility over the black84

gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth.85 The business is for

Helen to come hither.

Exit

COUNTESS    Well, now.

REYNALDO    I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

COUNTESS    Faith, I do. Her father bequeathed89 her to me, and

she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make90

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.

REYNALDO    Madam, I was very late93 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 matter96

was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess,

that had put such difference betwixt their two estates.98 Love

no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities99

were level. Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer100 her

poor knight surprised101 without rescue in the first assault or

ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch102

of sorrow that e’er I heard virgin exclaim in, which I held my

duty speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence, in the loss104

that may happen, it concerns you something105 to know it.

COUNTESS    You have discharged106 this honestly. Keep it to

yourself. Many likelihoods107 informed me of this before, which

hung so tott’ring in the balance that I could neither believe

nor misdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall109 this in your bosom,

and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you

further anon.

Exit Steward [Reynaldo]

Enter Helen

Aside

Even so it was with me when I was young.

If ever we are nature’s, these113 are ours. This thorn

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong.

Our blood115 to us, this to our blood is born:

It is the show and seal116 of nature’s truth,

Where love’s strong passion is impressed117 in youth.

By our remembrances of days foregone,

Such were our faults, or119 then we thought them none.

Her eye is sick on’t. I observe120 her now.

HELEN    What is your pleasure, madam?

COUNTESS    You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.

HELEN    Mine honourable mistress.

COUNTESS    Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said ‘a mother’,

Methought125 you saw a serpent. What’s in ‘mother’

That you start126 at it? I say I am your mother,

And put you in the catalogue of those

That were enwombèd mine.128 ’Tis often seen

Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds129

A native slip to us from foreign seeds.

You ne’er oppressed me with a mother’s groan131,

Yet I express to you a mother’s care.

God’s mercy, maiden! Does it curd133 thy blood

To say I am thy mother? What’s the matter,

That this distempered135 messenger of wet,

The many-coloured Iris, rounds136 thine eye?

— Why? That you are my daughter?

HELEN    That I am not.138

COUNTESS    I say I am your mother.

HELEN    Pardon, madam.

The Count Rossillion cannot be my brother:

I am from humble, he from honoured name,

No note upon my parents143, his all noble.

My master, my dear lord he is, and I

His servant live, and will his vassal145 die.

He must not be my brother.

COUNTESS    Nor I your mother.

HELEN    You are my mother, madam, would you were —

So149 that my lord your son were not my brother —

Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers150,

I care no more for than151 I do for heaven,

So I were not his sister.