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A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE.
Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c.
King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
"Tis past, my liege:
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it, and burns on.
My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
This I must say,
Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;
Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
I shall, my liege.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you
Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters
That set him high in fame.
He looks well on't.
King. I am not a day of season,
For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
My high-repented blames,
Dear sovereign pardon to me.
All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time.
The daughter of this lord?
My liege: At first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt: But love, that comes too
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favour from you, To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come.-By my old beard, And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this, The last that e'er I took her leave at court, I saw upon her finger.
Hers it was not.
King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.— This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token
I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most?
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never her's.
My gracious sovereign,
Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
I am sure, I saw her wear it. Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd; but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine ho
And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me,
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him;—
If you shall prove