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And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
* So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King. Would, I were with him! He would always say,
(Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them
To grow there, and to bear)--Let me not live,
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of paftime,
When it was out,-let me not live, quoth he,
After my flame lacks oil, to be the fnuff
Of younger Spirits, whole' apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are
m Mere fathers of their garments; whole constancies
Expire before their fabions :-_ This he wish'd :
I, after him, do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourer room.

* So in &c.]-His epitaph bears not so strong a testimony to his fame, as does your majesty's commendation " So his approof-in epitaph"it contains not such encomiums.

I apprehenfive senses] - fastidious tafte.

m Mere fathers of their garments ; whose confancies expire]-are employed solely in inventing new modes of dress; whose fancies change

“ Some jay of Italy"
~ Whose mother was her painting."
CYMBELINE, Act I, S. 4. Imo.

2 Lord.

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2 Lord. You are lovid, fir; 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 fam’d.

Ber. 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 applicacions-nature and sickness Debate it at their leiture. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer.

Ber. Thank your majesty. [Flourish. Exeunt.

S CE NE III.
A Room in the Count's Palace.

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Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. Count. I will now hear what you say of this gentlewoman.

Stew. 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.

Count. What does this knavę here? Get you gone, fire rah: The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe; 'cis my nowness, that I do not : for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, that I am a poor fellow.

to even your content,)-give you satisfaction. ° to commit them, &c.) to put you upon attemping such knaveries, and have ability enough for their accomplishment.

Count. Count. Well, fir.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well, that I am poor; though many of the rich are damn'd: But, if I may have your ladyship’s P good will to go to the world, Ifbel the woman and I will do as we may.

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
Clo. I do beg your good will in this case.
Count. In what case ?

Clo. 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, bearns are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason ?

Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them ?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

Clo. I am out of friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Clo. You 9 are shallow, madam; ey'n 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 inn the crop: if I be his cuckold, he's my

P good will to go to the world, ]-consent to marry. 9 are shallow, not in the secret, miltaken. Itars]-tills,

drudge: drudge: He, that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of my flesh and blood , he, that cherishes my Aesh and blood, loves my flesh and blood; he, that loves my Hesh 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, howsoe'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one, they may joul horns together, like any deer i' the herd.

Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave ?

Clo. A prophet, I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:

For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true small find ;
Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind.
Count. Get you gone, fir; I'll talk with you more anon.

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you; of her I am to speak.

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her; Helen I mean. Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth me, [Singing.

Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
* For it undone, undone, quoth be,

Was this king Priam's joy.
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that pe fighed as the stood,

And gave this a sentence then;
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,

There's yet one good in ten.

Fond done, fond done (for Paris, he.)

Count.

Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the fong, firrah.

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam ; which is a pu. rifying o' the song: 'Would God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the parson : One in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman born but 'on every blazing ftar, or at an earthquake, 'would mend the lottery well; a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one.

Count. You'll be gone, fir knave, and do as I command you?

Clo. That man should be at a woman's command, and yet no hurt done !—Though honesty be a 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 intirely.

Count. Faith, I do: her father bequeath'd 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.

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 diffe

11

* on every blazing ftar,]-upon the appearance of every comet.

u be a puritan, yet it will do no hurt;}-somewhat nice and scrupu. lous, yet it is not obstinately so, it will conform a little be no puritan.

"touch'd not any stranger Jense.)-reach'd not the audience of another.

rence

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