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“ Was this King Priam's joy.
Among nine bad if one be good, " There's yet one good in ten.
Count. What, one good in ten ? You corrupt the song, Sirrah.
Clo. One good woman in ten, Ma lam, which is a purifying o'th' long : ’would, God would serve the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with the tythe-woman, if I were the Parsons; one in ten, quoth a'! an we might have a good woman born but every blazing ftar, 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 com, mand you?
Clo. That man that should be at a woman's command, and yet no hurt done! tho' honesty be no pu. ritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplis 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 advantages, 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, the wilh'd me; alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears ; fhe thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd not any franger sense. Her matter was, the lov'd your fon ; Fortune, the faid, was no Goddess, (5) that had put
fuch (s) Fortune, she said, was no Goddess, &c. Love, no God, &c. complain'd against the Queen of Virgins, &c.] This Passage Itands thus in the old Copies :
fuch 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 fuffer her poor Knight to be surpriz'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of forrow, 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
Count. You have discharg'd this honestly, keep it to yourself; many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung lo tottering in the balance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt ; pray you, leave me ; stall this in your bofom, and I thank you for your honest care ; I will speak with you further anon.
[Exit Steward. Enter Helena. Count. Ev'n so it was with me, when I was young;
If we are nature's, these are ours : this thorn
Our blood to us, this to our blood, is born ;
Love, no God, that would not extend his Might only where Qualities were level, Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Kright, &c.
'Tis evident to every sensible Reader that something must have Nipe out here, by which the Meaning of the context is sender'd defective. The Steward is speaking in the very Words he overheard of the Young Lady; Fortune was no Goddess, she said, for one Reason ; Love, no God, for another; what could she then more naturally subjoin, than as I have amended in the Text?
Diana, no Queen of Virgins, that would suffer her poor Knight to be surpriz'd without Rescue, &c.
For in Poetical History Diana was as well known to preside over Chastity, as Cupid over Love, or Fortine over the Change of Regulation of our Circumstances.
By our remembrances of days foregone,
is fick on't; I observe her now.
Count. Nay, a mother;
that you are my daughter?
Hel. Pardon, Madam.
mother? Hel. You are my mother, Madam; 'would you were, (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother) Indeed, my motber!-or were you both our mothers I care no more for, than I do for heav'n, So I were not his fifter: can't no other, But I your daughter, he must be my brother?
Count. 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 fee (6)
Hel. Good Madam, pardon me.
Count. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond,
Now I fee
-) The Myftery of her Loveliness beyond my Comprehension: The old Couniels is saying nothing ironical, nothing taunting, or in Reproach, that this Word should find a place here; which it could not, unless sarcastically employ'd, and with some Spleen. I dare warrant, the Poet meant, his old Lady should say no more than this: “ I now find the Mystery of your creeping into Corners, and weeping, and pining in secret.” For this Rea. son I have amended the Text, Loneliness. The Steward, in the foregoing Scene, where he gives the Countess Intelligence of Helen's Behaviour, says;
Alone She was, and did communicate to herself her own Words to her own Ears,
Hel. Then, I confess,
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
Hel. Madam, I had.
Hel. I will tell truth; by Grace it self, I swear.