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well. Clo. One good woman in ten, Madam, which is a purifying o'th' fong: 'would God would serve the world lo 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 ítar, 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 surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth, the business is for Helen to come hither.
[Exit. Count. Well, now.
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 owing her than is paid, and more thall be paid her than she'll demand.
Stew. 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 vow for her, they touch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she lov’d your fon : 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 to be surpris'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This the deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard a virgin exclaim in; which I held it my duty speedily to acquaint you withal ; fithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it.
Gount. You have discharg‘d this honestly, keep it to yourself: many likelihoods inform’d me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance, that I couli nu her believe nor mildoubt. Pray you, leave me;
ftall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your ho-
S CE NE VII. Enter Helena. Count. Ev’n so it was with me when I was young ;
If 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 ;
eye is fick on't; I observe her now.-
Count. Nay, a mother.
you start at it? I say, I'm your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those,
That were enwombed mine ; 'tis often-feen,
Hel. That I am not.
Hel. Pardon, Madam.
Hel. 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 can no more fear than I do fear heav'n), So I were not his sister : can't no other, But I your daughter, he must be my brother?
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in
God shield you mean it not, daughter and mother
fon; invention is alham’d,
Hel. Good Madam, pardon me.
Count. Go not about; my love hath in 't a bond,
Hel. Then, I confess,
By any token of presumptuous fuit :
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
Hel. Madam, I had.
Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear.
Count. This was your motive for Paris, was it, speak ?
Hel. My Lord your son made me to think of this ;
Count. But think you, Helen,
He would receive it? He and his physicians
Hel. There's fomething hints
Count. Dost thou believe 't?
SC EN E
The court of France. Enter the King, with divers young Lords taking leave for
the Florentine war. Bertram and Parolles. Flourish cornets. Arewel, young Lords : these warlike prin
ciples Do not throw from you : you, my Lords, farewel; Share the advice betwixt you. If both gain, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv’d, And is enough for both.
i Lord. "Tis our hope, Sir, After well-enter'd soldiers, to return And find your Grace in health.
King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart