Alls Well That Ends Well | Page 7

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.