Act I - Act I, Scene 3

SCENE 3. Rousillon. A Room in the Palace.


I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman?

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.

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.

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

Well, sir.

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.

Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

I do beg your good will in this case.

In what case?

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 bairns are blessings.

Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.

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

Is this all your worship's reason?

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

May the world know them?

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

Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness.

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

Such friends are thine enemies, knave.

Y'are shallow, madam, in 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 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 joll horns together like any deer
i' the herd.

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

A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way:
For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.

Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon.

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

Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean.

Was this fair face the cause, quoth she
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, done fond,
Was this King Priam's joy?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then:--
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.

What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah.

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

You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you!

That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!--
Though honesty be no 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


Well, now.

I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.

Faith I do: her father bequeathed 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.

Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me:
alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to
her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not
any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune,
she said, was no goddess, that had put such 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 suffer her poor knight surprise, without rescue in the
first assault, or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the
most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in;
which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence,
in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know

You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself; 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 further


Even so it was with me when I was young:
If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born;
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth:
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults:--or then we thought them none.

[Enter HELENA.]

Her eye is sick on't;--I observe her now.

What is your pleasure, madam?

You know, Helen,
I am a mother to you.

Mine honourable mistress.

Nay, a mother.
Why not a mother? When I said a mother,
Methought 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. 'Tis often seen
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds:
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care:--
God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother? What's the matter,
That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd iris, rounds thine eye?
Why,--that you are my daughter?

That I am not.

I say, I am your mother.

Pardon, madam;
The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble;
My master, my dear lord he is; and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die:
He must not be my brother.

Nor I your mother?

You are my mother, madam; would you were,--
So that my lord your son were not my brother,--
Indeed my mother!--or were you both our mothers,
I care no more for than I do for heaven,
So I were not his sister. Can't no other,
But, I your daughter, he must be my brother?

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 see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross
You love my son; invention is asham'd,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true;
But tell me then, 'tis so;--for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it, one 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 clue;
If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.

Good madam, pardon me!

Do you love my son?

Your pardon, noble mistress!

Love you my son?

Do not you love him, madam?

Go not about; my love hath in't a bond
Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose
The state of your affection; for your passions
Have to the full appeach'd.

Then I confess,
Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your son:--
My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love:
Be not offended; for it hurts not him
That he is lov'd of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit;
Nor would I have him till I do deserve him;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do; but if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love; O, then, give pity
To her whose state is such that cannot choose
But lend and give where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies!

Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,--
To go to Paris?

Madam, I had.

Wherefore? tell true.

I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me
In heedfullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes whose faculties inclusive were
More than they were in note: amongst the rest
There is a remedy, approv'd, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The king is render'd lost.

This was your motive
For Paris, was it? speak.

My lord your son made me to think of this;
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king,
Had from the conversation of my thoughts
Haply been absent then.

But think you, Helen,
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,
Embowell'd of their doctrine, have let off
The danger to itself?

There's something in't
More than my father's skill, which was the greatest
Of his profession, that his good receipt
Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified
By th' luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure.
By such a day and hour.

Dost thou believe't?

Ay, madam, knowingly.

Why, Helen, 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 God's blessing into thy attempt:
Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this,
What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss.



  1. This illustrates the abundance of what the Countess provides for Helena and the humility of Helena's spirit by saying that Helena would never ask for as much as the Countess freely gives: in other words, Helena is humble, modest and grateful while the Countess is generous and liberal.

    — Kay Morse
  2. The Countess is expressing her gratitude for Helena by saying that Helena merits more in the way of friendship than what the Countess gives though what she gives is abundant.

    — Kay Morse
  3. The Countess is saying that Helena, in her own right simply because of her own inner character qualities, can claim all the Countess's love and protection even without having been made the Countess's legal ward.

    — Kay Morse
  4. adverbial interjection, (archaic): truly; indeed; truthfully

    — Kay Morse
  5. Addressing the Steward and indicating that she is expectant of and anticipating his communication regarding Helena.

    — Kay Morse
  6. The Clown exits to request that Helena/Helen go to see the Countess.

    — Kay Morse
  7. From "'twould mend" to "pluck one":

    The Clown is saying that if one good woman were born even once a day, then men would have a better chance ("mend the lottery") of picking a good woman for a wife and that he could be free to bring out the emotions of his heart (idiom: draw something out; "draw his heart out") before choosing a wife. He is suggesting that in the present state of things, regarding his cuckolding discussion, choosing a wife has to be made on different grounds.

    — Kay Morse
  8. preposition: before (chronological time reference to what comes before something else)

    — Kay Morse
  9. There is some confusion over what the Clown is actually referring, whether to the saying that a supernova ("blazing star") predicts a prodigy or to something else, but, in keeping with the context of his remark, it is safe to say that the hyperbolic meaning is that he wishes one good woman (i.e., baby girl) would be born even once a day--out of all women born in a day--or even one at every earthquake (more extreme hyperbole, i.e., exaggeration).

    — Kay Morse
  10. The Clown contradicts her and returns to his previous theme of cuckolding wives by saying that his version of the song purifies it or makes it true.

    — Kay Morse
  11. The Countess commands the Clown to tell Helena to come to her as she wishes to speak to Helena.

    The mention of the diminutive of Helena's name, "Helen," by the Countess prompts the Clown to digress into a song related to the most famous bearer of that name, Helen of Tory.

    — Kay Morse
  12. noun: used to address a man or a boy who is of lower class and social status than the speaker; a form of address given by a superior to a man or boy who is an inferior

    Pronunciation: 'sirə, accented on "sir" and followed by an unaccented schwa sound "ə"

    — Kay Morse
  13. The meaning and identity of "gentlewoman" is now delivered: we now know that the gentlewoman spoken of by the Countess in line 1 of I.iii and of whom the Steward wishes to speak is Helena.

    — Kay Morse
  14. Paraphrase: that the Clown ask Helena to enter the chamber and come before you.

    — Kay Morse
  15. Having heard all she cares to hear, the Countess dismisses the Clown with a tone of exasperation saying that she will speak with him more at another time about his hoped for marriage to Isbel.

    The Clown is used by Shakespeare to introduce plot and thematic elements related to Helena and Bertram, which are those of marriage and worthiness in marriage.

    — Kay Morse
  16. A portion of a ballad of the time, the Clown uses it to mean that cuckolding a husband (a wife being an adulterous) is destiny and that this is proven because cuckoo birds are raised in nests of other small songbirds and (as it was said) learn to sing the host birds song. [In fact cuckoos have their own two- to three-note call that is specific to their species. For example, one South African cuckoo calls "cuckoo cuckoo cuckoo-hoit hoit-cuckoo hoit-cuckoo."] 

    — Kay Morse
  17. The Countess understanding of the Clown's remarks ("foul-mouth'd" and false slander) confirms the above analysis of his speech, including the allusions to the Puritan and Papist agreement on sexuality, which is one of the irreligious points the Countess finds so offensive.

    calumnous, adjective (from calumny, noun: a false malicious statement): involving slander or falseness; involving defamation of a person's character

    knave, noun: a man with no scruples or principle; a dishonest man

    — Kay Morse
  18. The Clown is suggesting that the Puritan and the Papist agree upon the need for a mate and will fight it out with each other like bucks in a herd of deer who fight for supremacy.

    — Kay Morse
  19. verb (archaic dialect): to lurch; to move clumsily; e.g., buck lurching at each other with their antlers and hooves in combat

    — Kay Morse
  20. Critics suggest this alludes to the Renaissance opinion that while Puritans and Papists were extremely separated on doctrine they "met around the other side" and agreed on some ideas.

    The context of this is the unsound and illogical sexual discussion carried on by the Clown, so he is suggesting that the idea Puritan and Papist agree upon is physical need.

    — Kay Morse
  21. This refers to the dichotomy between doctrinal points of view that diametrically separates Protestant Puritan and Catholic Papist: their hearts are at opposite ends of religious doctrine.

    — Kay Morse
  22. A now unclear reference to a then seemingly common stereotype euphemism for a typical Catholic papist, similar to "Johnny rebel," that uses an allusion to call up an image of a typical mature Catholic man (Catholics may be referred to as "papists" because they honor the Catholic Pope).

    Some critics suggest the allusion is to an old Catholic lenten play having a character called "Poysam."

    — Kay Morse
  23. A now unclear reference to a then seemingly common stereotype euphemism for a typical Protestant Puritan, similar to "Johnny rebel," that uses an allusion to call up an image of a typical young Puritan man ("Puritan" was first used in the 1560s).

    Some critics suggest the allusion is to an old Puritan lenten play having a character called "Chair-bonne."

    — Kay Morse
  24. Through very unsound illogical logic, the Clown has just proven that men who befriend him just to get at his wife are in fact his friend because they (1) spare him sexual exertion after he has wearied of it, (2) harvest his land, (3) do his labor for him, (4) comforts his wife and (4) cherishes her and, through her, cherishes him: his wife is equated to his own body; any who cherish her, cherish him; thus any who are her lovers are his friends.

    The Clown alludes to (and perverts) the "cherish" passage in the New Testament at Ephesians 5:28, 29:

    Eph 5:28 So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself. 29 For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church (King James Version)

    — Kay Morse
  25. noun: the husband of an adulteress wife; the cuckold is usually the object of ridicule and derision

    — Kay Morse
  26. The Clown boldly accuses the Countess of not understanding great friendship. [Some say the text should read "e'n great friends," which is even great friends; the meaning of accusation of shallow lack of understanding would remain the same in either case.]

    Remember that Shakespeare uses the Clown and the Fool characters as substitutes for the Greek Chorus and Chorus Master and, as such, they speak honestly to principle characters telling them important information about themselves or others or providing important undergirding to the plot movement.

    As an illustration of this, Jacques in As You Like It makes just such a statement to Duke Senior in Arden Forest of the freedom of speech a clown has after having met Touchstone.

    — Kay Morse
  27. Initiating a play on words, the Countess says that friends of his who are friends for the sake of his wife are in fact not his friends but his enemies.

    This is a sexual entendre that implies that men who are friends with the Clown are sexually interested in his wife, thus enemies to him.

    — Kay Morse
  28. The Clown implies that his aforementioned wickedness has turned his friends from him and that, through his wife and for his wife, he hopes to gain new friends, and he implies that friendship is a holy calling.

    In another play on words, the Countess in her next line will initiate repartee on the words "for my wife's sake."

    — Kay Morse
  29. Paraphrase: You will repent of having married before you will repent of any sins or wickedness!

    repent, verb: to ask forgiveness for and to stop committing a sinful, wicked, or wrong action, thought or behavior

    The Countess disputes the soundness of this reason by saying that if he repents of anything, he will repent by wishing he had never married.

    — Kay Morse
  30. The Clown first cites Church doctrine that all have sinned and are therefore "wicked." He then says he wishes to marry so that he might repent of his sins or wickedness. This may suggest that he has had licentious sexual liaisons that were "wicked."

    — Kay Morse
  31. The Countess is sarcastically asking if his "holy" reasons were a secret or if she might be made privy to the Clown's high and "holy" reasons.

    She evidently does not think very highly of this Clown or of this Clown now that he has asked for permission to marry.

    [An individual "in service" to a person was traditionally required to ask permission to marry before being allowed to do so, and an employer of a domestic "in service" might refuse to allow the marriage. In later centuries, this was in part due to the year-long contract signed by domestics when they entered service: they had to have permission to break their contract of service in order to marry and permission might be withheld.]

    — Kay Morse
  32. The Clown claims to have higher, more religious reasons than mere physical passion for wanting to marry.

    Remember that during early epochs, religious motives and considerations were behind every kind of decision.

    Think of Hamlet for an illustration of this: his indecision stemmed from the conflict between pagan revenge ethic and Protestant Christian anti-revenge ethic. Thus Hamlet had to be certain that the command for revenge was in fact from his father and that he therefore had little or no choice in taking revenge because, if the ghost were truly his father, to refuse to take revenge would be dishonoring his father and king thereby endangering his immortal soul ... as much so as taking wrongfully revenge would do [thus Hamlet's tormenting dilemma: lost to salvation if I do and lost to salvation if I don't].

    — Kay Morse
  33. The Countess seemingly thinks this is a poor reason to release her Clown from Court service and asks with a tone of scorn if this physical passion is the only reason he wants to marry.

    — Kay Morse
  34. The Clown is claiming physical sexual need as the reason he wants to marry Isbel.

    In early Church history, it was believed that the Apostle Paul taught that celibacy (refraining from sexual activity) was the highest way to live and that the Devil inflamed physical passions as a way of entrapping Christians in sin, thus if the "devil" inflames passions, it is better to marry (and give up celibacy) than to sin. *[This Pauline understanding of Christian doctrine has since come into disrepute.]  *

    — Kay Morse
  35. The Steward does not answer the Countess directly but rather digresses into a complex defense of his credibility seemingly because there is something very important that he wishes to talk about.

    He says that if the Countess will but think about his past service to the late Count and to herself, she will be reminded of the "care" he took to keep them "content" through careful attention to his responsibilities; he further says that he wishes for his past deeds to speak for his credibility rather than defend his credibility himself because to speak one's own praise is to "wound" one's modesty, make a lie of modesty, and to "foul the clearness" of any defense one might make, to disprove one's credibility by boasting of it.

    — Kay Morse
  36. This begins the Countess's frustrating efforts to get a straight answer out of the Clown about what he wants and why he wants it: she grows more frustrated with each question she asks.

    — Kay Morse
  37. The Clown is saying that being in the service of a ruler is nothing that can be past down to heirs: this could mean that it is degrading as well as that it is not an estate, it cannot be inherited by offspring.

    — Kay Morse
  38. asking for a favor or for permission

    Initiating a play on the word "beg" first used by the Countess.

    — Kay Morse
  39. The Countess is expressing her concern since he appears to have no work that he can do if he is released from the Countess's service and thus will be reduced to begging to survive.

    She again introduces a word play that the Clown will take up in which "beg" is first used to mean asking for food, then used to mean asking for permission.

    — Kay Morse
  40. The Clown appears to be asking for release from the Countess's service so that he can marry Isbel.

    — Kay Morse
  41. In a spiritual/religious allusion, the Clown says that while it is not good to be poor, it is also not always good to be rich because riches does not insure salvation: many "rich are damned" without salvation.

    — Kay Morse
  42. adverbial interjection: used in anticipation of someone else's upcoming remark

    This is the beginning of a play on the word "well" in which the Countess uses it as, "yes, and what else have you to say," but the Clown uses it as "good, proper, satisfactory."

    — Kay Morse
  43. His response to her remarks is that he is poor, which indicates that he is excusing all the accusations with "I did it because I am poor."

    — Kay Morse
  44. From "for I know" to "knaveries yours":

    The Countess is confirming her true opinion of the Clown that he is foolish enough to have committed every accusation in every complaint and that he has all the ability needed to commit them.

    — Kay Morse
  45. The Countess has received complaints from some unnamed quarter(s) about the Clown. She says she does not believe "all" of them--leading us to understand there have been more than a few complaints--but she blames her slowness of wit rather than his innocence for her disbelief.

    This self-deprecating turn of phrase is not to be taken as a serious element of characterization--she is NOT slow of wit--but rather as ironic self-recrimination for being to reluctant to punish him.

    — Kay Morse
  46. The Countess interrupts her conversation with her Steward (overseer of her estate and palace) to ask about the presence of the Clown. Obviously, since she interrupts herself, the Clown has no connection to the "gentlewoman" about to be discussed by the Countess and Steward.

    — Kay Morse
  47. Following the pattern established in I.i, we do not know who "this gentlewoman" is; the meaning of this phrase--who this "gentlewoman" is--will be delivered after a pregnant pause.

    — Kay Morse
  48. adverb: to or toward the place in which the speaker is at present

    — Kay Morse
  49. What the Countess desire; the business at hand before the Countess.

    — Kay Morse
  50. adverb (archaic): indeed; in truth [currently used only as sarcasm in derision]

    — Kay Morse
  51. In this religious metaphor, "honesty" is compared to "puritans"--a name for Protestants that emerged in England in the 1560s--in two ways: honesty is *like *puritans in that it does not harm or hurt others; honesty is *unlike *puritans in that honesty will metaphorically and symbolically wear the holy garment of the surplice, which symbolizes humility and submissiveness.

    Puritans were disparaged because they rejected holy religious garments and would not wear the surplice since it connoted Papist Catholicism against which they protested.

    — Kay Morse
  52. The Clown suggests a protest against man taking woman's commands, then hedges his protest by saying that nonetheless ("yet": despite taking woman's commands) there is ho "hurt" or harm done the man by so doing. It is important that he hedge his protest with submissiveness since the Countess has the full authority of a ruler amongst her people.

    A woman's rights and power is a recurring theme in Shakespeare's comedies, as in Much Ado About Nothing. Bear in mind also that Queen Elizabeth I sat on the throne of England as their ruling monarch, so Shakespeare does well to complement her rule rather than insult it.

    — Kay Morse
  53. black gown: worn by priests; holy raiment; clothes of religious devotion and personal humility

    The Clown is drawing out a religious metaphor, built on religious allusions, that compares honesty to the humble kindness of a priest.

    Allusion: In a complex structure, the Clown says that "honesty," *like *Puritans, will do no hurt to anyone but, *UNLIKE *Puritans, will wear the "surplice of humility" the same as priests do when they humble themselves to go into holy orders (which requires they wear long black robes covered by white surplices).

    — Kay Morse
  54. surplice, noun: a white garment worn over religious clothes by monks and priests

    Paraphrase: a garment of humility; a token and outward sign of being humble

    — Kay Morse
  55. The Countess is out of patience with this foolish Clown and sends him away with the injunction that he is to obey her commands since she has told him to be gone already. A Countess ruled her territory in the same capacity as monarchs rule their territory: their word is literally law.

    — Kay Morse
  56. The one good woman out of ten: the tenth woman.

    tithe, noun: a tenth part of something; one tenth of something

    — Kay Morse
  57. The Countess sharply notes the derogatory play on words made by the Clown; the song should be:

    "If one be bad amongst nine good,
    There's nine good in ten.
    There's but one bad in ten."

    — Kay Morse
  58. One Shakespeare critic, Warburton, supplies the original lyrics to this song that speaks of women, not of men:

    "If one be bad amongst nine good,
    There's nine good in ten.
    There's but one bad in ten."

    — Kay Morse
  59. King Priam, father of Paris and Hector of Troy.

    Paraphrase: Was Paris King Priam's joy? Was this correct behavior by the beloved son of the King?

    — Kay Morse
  60. The face of Helen of Troy, wife of Achaean King Menelaus, and captive of Paris of Troy.

    — Kay Morse
  61. This song is an allusion to Helen of Troy, the famous beauty instrumental in the situation that led to the Trojan Wars between the Trojans and the Achaeans.

    — Kay Morse
  62. Back at the Countess's palace in Rousillon where she and Helena have remained; recall that Helena is now the ward of the Countess.

    — Kay Morse