:

King. I am not a day of season,
For thou may'st see a sun-shine 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,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

King. All is whole;
Not one word more of the consumed time.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals, ere we can effect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord ?
· Ber. Admiringly, my liege: At first
I stuck

my
choice

upon er, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom

myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King. Well excus'd:
That thou did'st 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
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,

Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust: Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: The main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage-day. Count. Which better than the first, o dear

heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, 0 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 leaye at court,
I saw upon her finger.

Ber. Hers it was not.
King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mino

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
Necessity'd to help, that by this token
I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave

her Of what should stead her most?

Ber. My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers.

Count. Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it ,
At her life's rate.

Laf. I am sure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never

In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrap'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. Plụtus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas

Helen's,
Whoever

gave

it

you: : Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confels 'twas hers, and by what rough en

forcement You got it from her: she callid the saints to

surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.
Ber. She never saw it.
King Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine.

honour; : ' :
And mak'st' conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,

'twill not prove
$O;
And
yet

I know not: thou didst hate her

deadly,
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.

Take him away.

(Guards seize Bertram.} My fore. past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,

Shall tax my fears of little vanity, :
Having vainly feard too little. - Away with

We'll sift this matter further.

Ber. If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was [Exit Bertram, guarded.]

Enter a Gentleman. King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. 1. Gent: Gracious sovereign,

.
Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not;
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who bath, for four or five removes, come short
To tender it berself. undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech

'
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending; her business looks in her
With an importing visage ; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [reads.] Upon his many protestations 10 marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say

Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my ho

. nour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, Q king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.

DIAŅA CAPY L E T, Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this. I'll none of him. King. The heavens have thought well on thee,

Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suis

it, he

won me.

Go, speedly, and bring again the count. -, ...

[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.] I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd.

Count. Now, justice on the doers !

Enter BERTRAM, guarded. King. I wonder, sir, since wives are mon

sters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lord.

ship, Yet you desire to marry.

What woman's that?

Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow and DIANA.

you know

Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and

honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
King. Come hither, count"; Do you

these women ? Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them: Do they charge me

further? Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your

wife? Ber. “ She's none of mine, my,

lord. Dia. If

you
shall

marry; You give away this hand, and that is mine';.'' You give away heaven's vows, and those are

mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embody'd yours,

That