ACT THE SECOND
SCENE I.—Porch to the Castle of the Countess of Arran.
The Countess of Arran and Ida discovered sitting at work.
A Song.[261]
Count. of A. Fair Ida, might you choose the greatest good,
'Midst all the world in blessings that abound,
Wherein, my daughter, should your liking be?
Ida. Not in delights, or pomp, or majesty.
Count. of A. And why?
Ida. Since these are means to draw the mind
From perfect good, and make true judgment blind.
Count. of A. Might you have wealth and fortune's richest store?
Ida. Yet would I, might I choose, be honest-poor;
For she that sits at fortune's feet a-low
Is sure she shall not taste a further woe;
But those that prank on top of fortune's ball
Still fear a change, and, fearing, catch a fall.
Count. of A. Tut, foolish maid, each one contemneth need.
Ida. Good reason why, they know not good indeed.
Count. of A. Many, marry, then, on whom distress doth lour.
Ida. Yes, they that virtue deem an honest dower.
Madam, by right this world I may compare
Unto my work, wherein with heedful care
The heavenly workman plants with curious hand—
As I with needle draw—each thing on land
Even as he list: some men like to the rose
Are fashion'd fresh; some in their stalks do close,
And, born, do sudden die; some are but weeds,
And yet from them a secret good proceeds:
I with my needle, if I please, may blot
The fairest rose within my cambric plot;
God with a beck can change each worldly thing,
The poor to earth, the beggar to the king.
What, then, hath man wherein he well may boast,
Since by a beck he lives, a lour[262] is lost?
Count. of A. Peace, Ida, here are strangers near at hand.
Enter Eustace with letters.
Eust. Madam, God speed!
Count. of A. I thank you, gentle squire.
Eust. The country Countess of Northumberland
Doth greet you well; and hath requested me
To bring these letters to your ladyship.
[Delivers the letters.
Count. of A. I thank her honour, and yourself, my friend.
[Peruses them.
I see she means you good, brave gentleman.—
Daughter, the Lady Elinor salutes
Yourself as well as me: then for her sake
'Twere good you entertain'd that courtier well.
Ida. As much salute as may become my sex,
And he in virtue can vouchsafe to think,
I yield him for the courteous countess' sake.—
Good sir, sit down: my mother here and I
Count time misspent an endless vanity.
Eust. [aside]. Beyond report, the wit, the fair, the shape!—
What work you here, fair mistress? may I see it?
Ida. Good sir, look on: how like you this compáct?
Eust. Methinks in this I see true love in act:
The woodbines with their leaves do sweetly spread,
The roses blushing prank them in their red;
No flower but boasts the beauties of the spring;
This bird hath life indeed, if it could sing.
What means, fair mistress, had you in this work?
Ida. My needle, sir.
Eust. In needles, then, there lurk
Some hidden grace, I deem, beyond my reach.
Ida. Not grace in them, good sir, but those that teach.
Eust. Say that your needle now were Cupid's sting,—
[Aside]. But, ah, her eye must be no less,
In which is heaven and heavenliness,
In which the food of God is shut,
Whose powers the purest minds do glut!
Ida. What if it were?
Eust. Then see a wondrous thing;
I fear me you would paint in Tereus' heart
Affection in his power and chiefest part.
Ida. Good Lord, sir, no! for hearts but prickèd soft
Are wounded sore, for so I hear it oft.
Eust. What recks the wound, where but your happy eye
May make him live whom Jove hath judg'd to die?
Ida. Should life and death within this needle lurk,
I'll prick no hearts, I'll prick upon my work.
Enter Ateukin and Slipper.
Count. of A. Peace, Ida, I perceive the fox at hand.
Eust. The fox! why, fetch your hounds, and chase him hence.
Count. of A. O, sir, these great men bark at small offence.
Come, will it please you enter, gentle sir?
[They offer to go out.
Ateu. Stay, courteous ladies; favour me so much
As to discourse a word or two apart.
Count. of A. Good sir, my daughter learns this rule of me,
To shun resort and strangers' company;
For some are shifting mates that carry letters;
Some, such as you, too good because our betters.
Slip. Now, I pray you, sir, what akin are you to a pickerel?