William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (467 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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SECOND LORD DUMAINE
You’re lovèd, 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 famed.
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 rest have worn me out
With several applications. Nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count.
My son’s no dearer.
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.
⌈
Flourish.
⌉
Exeunt
Enter the Countess, Reynaldo her steward, and
⌈
behind
⌉
Lavatch her clown
COUNTESS I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman?
REYNALDO 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? (To
Lavatch)
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.
Lavatch)
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.
LAVATCH ’Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.
COUNTESS Well, 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 woman and I will do as we may.
COUNTESS Wilt thou needs 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 heritage, and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o’ my body, for they say bairns 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 go that the devil drives.
COUNTESS Is this all your worship’s reason?
LAVATCH Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.
COUNTESS May the world 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.
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.
COUNTESS Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
LAVATCH You’re shallow, madam—in great friends, for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary 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 Chairbonne the puritan and old Poisson the papist, howsome‘er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one: they may jowl horns together like any deer i’th’ herd.
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 Chairbonne the puritan and old Poisson the papist, howsome‘er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one: they may jowl horns together like any deer i’th’ herd.
COUNTESS Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave?
LAVATCH A prophet? Ay, madam, and I speak the truth the next way.
[He sings]
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.
REYNALDO May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you? Of her I am to speak.
COUNTESS
(to Lavatch)
Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her. Helen, I mean.
(to Lavatch)
Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her. Helen, I mean.
LAVATCH ⌈
sings
⌉
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.’
‘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.
LAVATCH One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o‘th’ 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 but ere every blazing star, or at an earthquake, ’twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw his heart out ere a pluck one.
COUNTESS You’ll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you.
LAVATCH 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.
REYNALDO 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.
REYNALDO 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; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised 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.
such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god
, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised 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 tott’ring 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
Enter Helen
COUNTESS
(aside)
(aside)
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 impressed in youth.
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults—or then we thought them
none.
Her eye is sick on’t. I observe her now.
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 impressed in youth.
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults—or then we thought them
none.
Her eye is sick on’t. I observe 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’,
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 enwombèd mine. ’Tis often seen
Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds.
You ne’er oppressed 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 distempered messenger of wet,
The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why, that you are my daughter?
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 enwombèd mine. ’Tis often seen
Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds.
You ne’er oppressed 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 distempered messenger of wet,
The many-coloured Iris, rounds thine eye?
Why, that you are my daughter?
HELEN
That I am not.
COUNTESS
I say I am your mother.
HELEN
Pardon, madam.
The Count Roussillon cannot be my brother.
I am from humble, he from honoured 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.
I am from humble, he from honoured 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?
HELEN
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?
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 catched your fondness. Now I see
The myst‘ry of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears’ head. Now to all sense ’tis gross:
You love my son. Invention is ashamed
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 t’one to th‘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 clew;
If it be not, forswear’t. Howe’er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
God shield you mean it not! ‘Daughter’ and ‘mother’
So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again?
My fear hath catched your fondness. Now I see
The myst‘ry of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears’ head. Now to all sense ’tis gross:
You love my son. Invention is ashamed
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 t’one to th‘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 clew;
If it be not, forswear’t. Howe’er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
HELEN
Good madam, pardon me.
COUNTESS
Do you love my son?
HELEN
Your pardon, noble mistress.
COUNTESS
Love you my son?
HELEN
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 appeached.
Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose
The state of your affection, for your passions
Have to the full appeached.
HELEN
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 loved 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 intenable 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 to find not that her search implies,
But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies.
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 loved 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 intenable 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 to find not 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?
To go to Paris?
HELEN Madam, I had.
COUNTESS Wherefore? Tell true.
HELEN
I will tell truth, by grace itself I swear.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty, and that he willed me
In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them,
As notes whose faculties inclusive were
More than they were in note. Amongst the rest
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The King is rendered lost.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty, and that he willed me
In heedfull’st reservation to bestow them,
As notes whose faculties inclusive were
More than they were in note. Amongst the rest
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The King is rendered lost.
COUNTESS
This was your motive
For Paris, was it? Speak.
HELEN
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.
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,
Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off
The danger to itself?
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,
Embowelled of their doctrine, have left off
The danger to itself?
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