SCENE III. The same. 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 Count. 'Tis past, my liege: And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i'the blaze of youth; King. My honour'd lady, Though my revenges were high bent upon him, This I must say, Laf. Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; King. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; * Reckoning or estimate. + Completely, in its full extent. So in As you like it:-to have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.' We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill Gent. I shall, my liege. King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high ness. King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me, That set him high in fame. Laf. Enter Bertram. He looks well on't. King. I am not a day of season †, For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail In me at once: But to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth, The time is fair again. Ber. My high-repented blames ‡, All is whole; Dear sovereign pardon to me. King. For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first * i. e. The first interview shall put an end to all recollection of the past. ti. e. Of uninterrupted rain. Faults repented of to the utmost. I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart King. Well excus'd: That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt: But love, that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash faults, 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. Ber. Hers it was not. King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fastened to't.- Necessitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most? My gracious sovereign, Ber. The ring was never her's. Count. Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it Laf. 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 As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again. King. Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicinet, Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement Unless she gave it to yourself in bed (Where you have never come), or sent it us Upon her great disaster. *In the sense of unengaged. + The philosopher's stone. i. e. That you have the proper consciousness of your own actions. Ber. She never saw it. King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine ho nour; And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me, [Guards seize Bertram. My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him ;We'll sift this matter further. Ber. This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy If you shall prove [Exit Bertram, guarded. Enter a Gentleman. King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. Gent. Gracious sovereign. Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not; Who hath, for four or five removes*, come short Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widow Post-stages. |