Act 1, Scene III

SCENE III. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown
COUNTESS
I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman?

Steward
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.

COUNTESS
What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah:
the complaints I have heard of you I do not all
believe: 'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know
you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability
enough to make such knaveries yours.

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

COUNTESS
Well, sir.

Clown
No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though
many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have
your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel
the woman and I will do as we may.

COUNTESS
Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clown
I do beg your good will in this case.

COUNTESS
In what case?

Clown
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 o' my body; for
they say barnes are blessings.

COUNTESS
Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

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

COUNTESS
Is this all your worship's reason?

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

COUNTESS
May the world know them?

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

COUNTESS
Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

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

COUNTESS
Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Clown
You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the
knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of.
He that ears my land spares my team and gives me
leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my
drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher
of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh
and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my
flesh 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, howsome'er their hearts are severed in
religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl
horns together, like any deer