Th' incenfing relics of it. Let him approach, Gent. I fhall, my Liege. [Exit. 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. SCENE IV. Enter Bertram. Laf. He looks well on 't. King. I'm not a day of season, For thou may'ft see a fun-fhine and a hail Ber. My high-repented blames, King. All is whole, Not one word more of the confumed time, Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first To a most hideous object: thence it came, King. Well excus'd: That thou do'ft love her, ftrikes fome scores away From the great 'compt; but love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon flowly carried, Count. Which better than the firft, O dear Heav'n Or, ere they meet, in me, O Nature, cease! [blefs, Laf. Come on, my fon, in whom my house's name Must be digested: give a favour from you To fparkle in the fpirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. By my old beard, [Bertram gives a ring. And every hair that's on 't, Helen, that's dead, Ber. Her's it was not. King. Now, pray you, let me fee it: for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to 't. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, Neceffitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her Of what should ftead her moft? Ber. My gracious Sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never her's. Count. Son, on my life, I've seen her wear it, and fhe reckon'd it At her life's rate. Laf. I'm fure I faw her wear it. Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, fhe never faw it. In Florence was it from a cafement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain’d the name Of her that threw it. Noble fhe was, and thought 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, Confefs 'twas her's, and by what rough inforcement You got it from her. She call'd the faints to furety, That she would never put it from her finger, Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, (Where you have never come), or fent it us Upon her great difafter. Ber. She never faw it. King. Thou fpeak'ft it falfely, as I love mine ho nour; And mak'ft conject❜ral fears to come into me, [Guards feize Bertram. My forepaft 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 her's, you fhall as easy Prove that I hufbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was. SCENE V. [Exit Bertram guarded. Enter a Gentleman. King. I'm wrapp'd in difmal thinkings. Gent, Gracious Sovereign, Whether I've been to blame or no, I know not : Who hath fome four or five removes come short Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and fpeech The King reads a letter. Upon his many proteftations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to fay 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 lies; 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 discov'ry. Seek thefe fuitors: Enter Bertram. I am afraid the life of Helen (Lady) Was foully fnatch'd. Count. Now juftice on the doers! King. I wonder, Sir, wives are fo monftrous to you, And that you fly them as you fwear to them; Enter Widow, and Diana. Dia. I am, my Lord, a wretched Florentine, My fuit, as I do understand, you know, Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whofe age and honour Both fuffer under this complaint we bring, And both fhall ceafe without your remedy. King. Come hither, Count? do you know 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 fo ftrange upon your wife? Ber. She's none of mine, my Lord. Dia. If you fhall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; That fhe which marries you, muit marry me, Laf. Your reputation comes too fhort for my daughter, 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 nefs Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour, Than for to think that I would fink it here. King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend, Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour, Than in my thought it lies! Dia. Good my Lord, Afk him upon his oath, if he does think He had not my virginity. King. What fay'ft thou to her? Ber. She's impudent, my Lord; And was a common gamefter to the camp. Dia. He does me wrong, my Lord; if I were fo, He might have bought me at a common price. Whofe high refpect and rich validity Did lack a parallel: yet for all that, it to a commoner o' th' camp, If I be one. Count. He blushes, and 'tis his; Of fix preceding ancestors, that gem |