READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, Scenes i-iii |
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Act I, Scene iii:
Rousillon. A Room in the Palace.
Rousillon. 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 bairns 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 severed in religion, their |
| heads are both one; they may joll 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! an we might have a good woman born before 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 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. |
| STEWARD: |
| 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 surprise, without rescue in the |
| first assault, or ransom 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. |
| COUNTESS: |
| 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 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.] |
| Even so it was with me when I was young: |
| If ever 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 show and seal of nature's truth, |
| Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: |
| By our remembrances of days foregone, |
| Such were our faults:—or then we thought them none. |
| [Enter HELENA.] |
| Her eye is sick on't;—I observe her now. |
| HELENA: |
| What is your pleasure, madam? |
| COUNTESS: |
| You know, Helen, |
| I am a mother to you. |
| HELENA: |
| Mine honourable mistress. |
| COUNTESS: |
| Nay, a mother. |
| Why not a mother? When I said a mother, |
| Methought you saw a serpent: what's in mother, |
| That you start at it? I say I am your mother; |
| And put you in the catalogue of those |
| 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 oppress'd me with a mother's groan, |
| Yet I express to you a mother's care:— |
| God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood |
| To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, |
| That this distemper'd messenger of wet, |
| The many-colour'd iris, rounds thine eye? |
| Why,—that you are my daughter? |
| HELENA: |
| That I am not. |
| COUNTESS: |
| I say, I am your mother. |
| HELENA: |
| 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. |
| COUNTESS: |
| Nor I your mother? |
| HELENA: |
| 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, |
| So I were not his sister. Can't no other, |
| But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? |
| COUNTESS: |
| Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law: |
| God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother |
| So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? |
| My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see |
| The mystery of your loneliness, and find |
| Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross |
| You love my son; invention is asham'd, |
| Against the proclamation of thy passion, |
| To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; |
| But tell me then, 'tis so;—for, look, thy cheeks |
| Confess it, one to the other; and thine eyes |
| See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, |
| That in their kind they speak it; only sin |
| And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, |
| That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? |
| If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue; |
| If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, |
| As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, |
| To tell me truly. |
| HELENA: |
| Good madam, pardon me! |
| COUNTESS: |
| Do you love my son? |
| HELENA: |
| Your pardon, noble mistress! |
| COUNTESS: |
| Love you my son? |
| HELENA: |
| Do not you love him, madam? |
| COUNTESS: |
| Go not about; my love hath in't a bond |
| Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose |
| The state of your affection; for your passions |
| Have to the full appeach'd. |
| HELENA: |
| Then I confess, |
| Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, |
| That before you, and next unto high heaven, |
| I love your son:— |
| My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: |
| Be not offended; for it hurts not him |
| That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not |
| By any token of presumptuous suit; |
| Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; |
| Yet never know how that desert should be. |
| I know I love in vain, strive against hope; |
| Yet in this captious and intenible sieve |
| I still pour in the waters of my love, |
| And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, |
| Religious in mine error, I adore |
| 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! |
| COUNTESS: |
| Had you not lately an intent,—speak truly,— |
| To go to Paris? |
| HELENA: |
| Madam, I had. |
| COUNTESS: |
| Wherefore? tell true. |
| HELENA: |
| 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. |
| COUNTESS: |
| This was your motive |
| For Paris, was it? speak. |
| HELENA: |
| My lord your son made me to think of this; |
| Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king, |
| Had from the conversation of my thoughts |
| Haply been absent then. |
| COUNTESS: |
| 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 let off |
| The danger to itself? |
| HELENA: |
| There's something in't |
| More than my father's skill, which was the greatest |
| Of his profession, that his good receipt |
| Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified |
| By th' luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour |
| But give me leave to try success, I'd venture |
| The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure. |
| By such a day and hour. |
| COUNTESS: |
| Dost thou believe't? |
| HELENA: |
| Ay, madam, knowingly. |
| COUNTESS: |
| Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and love, |
| Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings |
| To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home, |
| And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: |
| Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, |
| What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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