Th' incenfing relics of it. Let him approach,
A ftranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

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
In me at once; but to the brightest beams
Diftracted clouds give way; fo ftand 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 confumed time,
Let's take the inftant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'ft decrees
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time

Steals, ere we can effect them.
The daughter of this Lord?

You remember

Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first
I ftuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durft make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impreffion of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his fcornful perfpective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorch'd a fair colour, or exprefs'd it ftol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions

To a most hideous object: thence it came,
That the whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have loft, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The duft that did offend it.

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,
To the great fender turns a four offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: our rafh faults
Make trivial price of ferious things we have,
Not knowing them until we know their grave.
Oft our difpleasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and, after, weep their duft;
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While fhameful hate fleeps out the afternoon.
Be this fweet Helen's knell; and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin,
The main confents are had, and here we'll stay
To fee our widower's fecond marriage-day:

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,
Was a fweet creature: fuch a ring as this,
The last time 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 fasten'd to 't.

This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood

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
I ftood engag'd; but when I had fubfcrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honour
As fhe had made the overture, fhe ceas'd
In heavy fatisfaction, and would never
Receive the ring again.
King. Plutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more fcience,

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,

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,
Which I would fain fhut out. If it fhould prove
That thou art fo inhuman-'twill not prove fo-
And yet
I know not- thou didst hate her deadly,
And he is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myfelf, could win me to believe,
More than to fee this ring. Take him away.

[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,
We'll fift this matter further.

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 :
Here's a petition from a Florentine,

Who hath fome four or five removes come short
To tender it herfelf. I undertook it,

Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and fpeech
Of the poor fuppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her bufinefs looks in her
With an importing vifage; and fhe told me,
In a fweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your Highness with herself.

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:
Go fpeedily, and bring again the Count.

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;
Yet you defire to wed. What woman's that?

Enter Widow, and Diana.

Dia. I am, my Lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;

My fuit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

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;
You give away heav'n's vows, and thofe are mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine;
For I by vow am fo embodied your's,

That fhe which marries you, muit marry me,
Either both or none.

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.
Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,

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