King. What fays he to your daughter? Have you spoke ? 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. Enter Bertram. Laf. He looks well on't. King. I'm not a day of season, For thou may'ft fee a fun-fhine and a hail Ber. My high repented blames, Not one word more of the consumed time, The daughter of this Lord? You remember Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first ; That fhe, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, King. Well excus'd: That thou do'st love her, ftrikes fome scores away To the great fender turns a fowre offence, Crying, Crying, that's good that is gone: our rash faults Count. (25) Which better than the firft, O dear heav'n, blefs, Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, ceafe! 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, 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 faften'd to't. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bad her, if her fortunes ever stood Neceffitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her (25) Which better than the first, O dear Heav'n, blefs, Or, e'er they meet, in me, O Nature, ceafe!] I have ventur'd, against the Authority of the printed Copies, to prefix the Countess's Name to thefe two Lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a Favourer of Bertram: but if Bertram fhould make a bad Husband the fecond Time, why should it give the King fuch mortal Pangs? A fond and disappointed Mother might reasonably not defire to live to fee fuch a Day: and from her the Wish of dying, rather than to behold it, comes, with Propriety. Ber. 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 the 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, Wrap'd in a paper, which contain❜d the name Of her that threw it: (26) Noble fhe was, and thought I ftood ungag'd; but when I had fubfcrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that courfe of honour As she had made the overture, she ceaft In heavy fatisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again. King. Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, Than I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's, (Where you have never come) or fent it us Ber. She never faw it. (26) noble She was, and thought 1 food engag'd;-] I don't understand this Reading; if we are to underftand, that She thought Bertram engag'd to her in Affection, infoar'd by her Charms, this Meaning is too obscurely exprefs'd. The Context rather makes me believe, that the Poet wrote, ·noble She was, and thought 1 stood ungag'd; i, e. unengag'd: neither my Heart, nor Person, difpos'd of. prove King. Thou fpeak'ft it falfely, as I love mine honour ; And mak'ft conject'ral fears to come into me, Which I would fain fhut out; if it should 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 clofe Her eyes myfelf, could win me to believe, More than to fee this ring. Take him away. [Guards feize Bertram. My fore-paft 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 hers, you fhall as eafie Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was. Exit Bertram guarded. Enter a Gentleman. King. I'm wrap'd in difmal thinkings. Whether I've been to blame or no, I know not: Who hath for four or five removes come short 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 lyes; otherwife a feducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. Diana Capulet. Laf. 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 difcov'ry. Seek thefe fuitors: Go fpeedily, and bring again the Count. Enter Bertram. I am afraid, the life of Helen (lady) 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, 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 wo men ? 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 those are mine; That fhe, which marries you, must marry me, Laf. Your reputation comes too fhort for my daugh ter, 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 |