LITMIR.BIZ

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apprehensive senses

       All but new things disdain; whose judgments are

       Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies

       Expire before their fashions.” This he wish’d.

       I, after him, do after him wish too,

       Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,

       I quickly were dissolved from my hive

       To give some labourers room.

      SECOND LORD.

       You’re lov’d, sir;

       They that least lend it you shall lack 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 fam’d.

      BERTRAM.

       Some six months since, my lord.

      KING.

       If he were living, I would try him yet;—

       Lend me an arm;—the rest have worn me out

       With several applications; nature and sickness

       Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count;

       My son’s no dearer.

      BERTRAM.

       Thank your majesty.

      [Exeunt. Flourish.]

      SCENE III. Rossillon. A Room in the Palace.

      Enter Countess, Steward and Clown.

      COUNTESS.

       I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman?

      STEWARD.

       Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

      COUNTESS.

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

      CLOWN.

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

      COUNTESS.

       Well, sir.

      CLOWN.

       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.

      COUNTESS.

       Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

      CLOWN.

       I do beg your good will in this case.

      COUNTESS.

       In what case?

      CLOWN.

       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 barnes are blessings.

      COUNTESS.

       Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

      CLOWN.

       My poor body, madam, requires it; I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives.

      COUNTESS.

       Is this all your worship’s reason?

      CLOWN.

       Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

      COUNTESS.

       May the world know them?

      CLOWN.

       I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and indeed I do marry that I may repent.

      COUNTESS.

       Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

      CLOWN.

       I am out of friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife’s sake.

      COUNTESS.

       Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

      CLOWN.

       Y’are shallow, madam, in 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 in 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, howsome’er their hearts are sever’d in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together like any deer i’ the herd.

      COUNTESS.

       Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth’d and calumnious knave?

      CLOWN.

       A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:

       For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind.

      COUNTESS.

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

      STEWARD.

       May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak.

      COUNTESS.

       Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean.

      CLOWN.

       [Sings.] Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priam’s joy? With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: Among 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 song, 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 tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth ’a! And 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.

      COUNTESS.

       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.]

      COUNTESS.

       Well, now.

      STEWARD.

       I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

      COUNTESS.

       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.

      STEWARD.

       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

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