COUNTESS

I N delivering my son from me, I bury a see cond husband. What hope is there of his Majesties amendment? This young Gentlewoman had a father, Oh that had, how sad a passage 'tis, whose skill was almost as great as his honesty, had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would for the Kings sake he were li ving, I think it would be the death of the Kings disease. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. His sole child my Lord, and bequeathed to my over looking. I have those Hope's of her good, that her education promises her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer: for where and unclean mind car rises virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and atcheeues her goodness. It's the best brine a Maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tirrany of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this Helena, go too, no more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then to have— If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Be thou blessed Bertrame, and succeed thy father In manners as in shape: thy blood and virtue Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright. Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power then use: and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key. Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, Fallen on thy head. Farewell my Lord, It's and unseasoned Courtier, good my Lord Advise him. Heaven bless him: Farewell Bertram. I will now hear, what say you of this gentle woman. What doe's this knave here? Get you gone sirrah: the complaints I have herd of you I do not all be leave, it's my slowness that I do not: For I know you lack not folly to commit them, & have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. Well sir. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? He blushes, and it's hit: Of six preceding Ancestors, that Jemme Conferred by testament to 'th sequent issue Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife, That Ring's a thousand proofs. In what case? Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry? Is this all your worships reason? Thy marriage sooner then thy wickedness. Such friends are thine enemies knave. Wilt thou ever be a foul mouthed and calum nious knave? Get you gone sir, I'll talk with you more anon. Sirrah tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her, Hellen I mean. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song sirrah. Yowl begone sir knave and do as I command you? Well now. Faith I do: her Father bequeathed her to me, and she her self without other advantage, may lawful lie make title to as much love as she finds, there is more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid her then sheele demand. You have discharged this honestly, keep it to your self, 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 fur there anon. Do you love my Son? Love you my Son? Go not about; my love hath in't a bound Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose: The state of your affection, for your passion Have to the full appeached. Had you not lately and intent, speak truly, To go to Paris ? Wherefore? tell true. This was your motive for Paris, was it, speak? But think you Hellen, 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 Emboweled of their doctrine, have left off The danger to it self. Dost thou beleeue't? Why Hellen 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 Gods blessing into thy attempt: Begun to morrow, and be sure of this, What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. May the world know them? Even so it was with me when I was young: If ever we are nature's, these are ours, this thorn Does to our Rose of youth righlie belong Our blood to us, this to our blood is born, It is the show, and seal of nature's truth, Where loves strong passion is impressed in youth, By our remembrances of days forgo, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none, Her eye is sick on't, I observe her now. I say I am your Mother. Yes Hellen, 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 mistry of your loveliness, and find Your salt tears head, now to all sense it's 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 it's so, for look, thy cheeks Confess it 'ton tooth 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 clewe: If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail To tell me truly. You know Hellen I am a mother to you. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I said a mother Me thought 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, it's often seen Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds: You never oppressed me with a mother's groan, Yet I express to you a mother's care, (Gods mercy maiden) dos 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? Nor I your Mother. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. To the Court, why what place make you spe ciall, when you put off that with such contempt, but to the Court? Marry that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? Have you, I say, and answer of such fitness for all questions? It must be and answer of most monstrous size, that must fit all demands. To be young again if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your and swer. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him, by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness, and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier? Sir I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. I think sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. You were lately whipped sir as I think. Do you cry Oh Lord sir at your whipping, and spare not me? Indeed your Oh Lord sir, is very sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well to a whipping if you were but bound too't. I play the noble huswife with the time, to enter taine it so merrily with a fool. And end sir to your business: give Hellen this, And urge her to a present answer back, Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son, This is not much. Not much imployement for you, you under stand me. Hast you again. You are too young, too happy, and too good To make your self a son out of my blood. What is the matter. Why should he be killed? Think upon patience, pray you Gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither on the start Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my son I pray you? Brought you this Letter Gentlemen? And to be a soldier. Return you thither. Find you that there? Paroles was it not? A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness, My son corrupts a well derived nature With his inducement. you are welcome Gentlemen, I will entreat you when you see my son, to tell him that his sword can never win the honour that he looses: more I'll entreat you written to bear along. Not so, but as we change our courtesies, Will you draw near? Alas! and would you take the letter of her: Might you not know she would do, as she has done, By sending me a Letter. Read it again. I am S. Jaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war, My dearest Master your deer son, may High, Bless him at home in peace. While I from far, His name with zealous fervour sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive: I his despiteful Juno sent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heals of worth. He is too good and fair for death, and me, Whom I my self embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharp stings are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. What Angel shall Bless this unworthy husband, he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to bear And loves to grant, repreeve him from the wrath Of greatest Justice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife, Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger, When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return, and hope I may that she Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense To make distinction: provide this Messenger: My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak, Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. I would I had not known him, it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman, that ever Nature had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. With very much content my Lord, and I wish it happily effected. Ir reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to night: I shall beseech your Lordship to remain with me, till they meet together. I prithee Lady have a better cheer, If thou engrossest, all the griefs are thine, Thou robbest me of a moiety: He was my son, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? It's passed my Liege, And I beseech your Majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done in that blade of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reasons force, Overbears it, and burns on. Son, on my life I have seen her wear it, and she reckoned it At her lives rate. Now justice on the doers. It hath happened all, as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. By what observance I pray you. Good morrow noble Captain. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. What have we here? Nothing in France, until he have no wife: There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she, and she deserves a Lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly Mistress. Who was with him? You need but plead your honourable privi ledge.