« ZurückWeiter »
King. What fays he to your daughter? Have you fpoke?
Laf. All, that he is, hath reference to your Highness. King. Then fhall we have a match. I have letters fent me,
That fet him high in fame.
Laf. He looks well on't.
For thou may'st fee a fun-fhine and a hail
Ber.. My high repented blames, Dear Sovereign, pardon to me. King. All is whole,
Not one word more of the confumed time,
King. Well excus'd:
That thou do'ft love her, ftrikes fome scores away
To the great fender turns a fowre offence,
Crying, that's good that is gone: our rash faults
Count. (25) Which better than the firft, O dear
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my fon, in whom my house's name Muft be digefted: give a favour from you To sparkle in the fpirits of my daughter, That the may quickly come. By my old beard, And ev'ry hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature: fuch a ring as this, The laft that e'er fhe took her leave at court, I faw upon her finger.
Ber. Her's it was not.
King. Now, pray you, let me fee it: For mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was faften'd to't.
This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her
(25) Which better than the firft, O dear Heav'n, bless,
Or, e'er they meet, in me, O Nature, ceafe!] I have ventur'd, against the Authority of the printed Copies, to prefix the Countess's Name to these two Lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a Favourer of Bertram: but if Bertram should make a bad Husband the fecond Time, why should it give the King fuch mortal Pangs? A fond and disappointed Mother might reafonably not defire to live to fee fuch a Day: and from her the Wish of dying, rather than to behold it, comes with Propriety.
Ber. My gracious Sovereign,
I've seen her wear it, and fhe reckon'd it
Laf. I'm fure, I faw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, she never faw it ;
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
King. Plutus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Than I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Ber. She never faw it.
noble She was, and thought
1 food engag'd;-] I don't understand this Reading; if we are to understand, that She thought Bertram engag'd to her in Affection, infnar'd by her Charms, this Meaning is too obfcurely exprefs'd. The Context rather makes me believe, that the Poet wrote,
noble She was, and thought
I stood ungag'd ;.
i, e. unengag'd: neither my Heart, nor Perfon, difpos'd of.
King. Thou speak'ft it falfely, as I love mine honour; And mak'ft conject'ral fears to come into me, Which I would fain fhut out; if it should
That thou art fo inhuman 'twill not prove fo
[Guards feize Bertram. My fore-patt proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Ber. If you fhall prove,
This ring was ever hers, you fhall as eafie
Enter a Gentleman.
Exit Bertram guarded.
King. I'm wrap'd in difmal thinkings.
Whether I've been to blame or no, I know not ::
The King reads a letter.
Upon his many proteftations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Roufillon a widower, his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He ftole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to this country for juftice: grant it me, O King, in you it beft lyes; otherwife a feducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. Diana Capulet.
Laf. I will buy me a fon-in-law in a fair, and toll for him. For this, I'll none of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, To bring forth this difcov'ry. Seek these fuitors: Go fpeedily, and bring again the Count.
I am afraid, the life of Helen (lady)
Count. Now juftice on the doers!
King. I wonder, Sir, wives are fo monftrous to you,
Enter Widow and Diana.
Dia. I am, my Lord, a wretched Florentine,
Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whofe age and honour
King. Come hither, Count; do you know thefe wo
Ber. My Lord, I neither can, nor will, deny
You give away this hand, and that is mine;
Laf. Your reputation comes too fhort for my daugh ter, you are no husband for her. [To Bertram. Ber. My Lord, this is a fond and defp'rate creature, Whom fometime I have laugh'd with let your High