SCENE II.-ROUSILLON.-THE INNER COURT OF THE COUNTESS'S PALACE,

Enter Clown and Parolles. Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter; I have, ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: Look, here he comes himself.

Enter Lafeu.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat (but not a musk-cat), that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. (Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she' should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you: Let the justices make you and fortune friends: I am for other business.

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word then.Give me your hand:- How does your drum? Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

"Tis past my liege: And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it, and burns on.

King.

My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him, And watch'd the time to shoot. Laf. This I must say,But first I beg my pardon,-The young lord Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife, Whose beauty did astonish the survey [tive; Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took capWhose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to

serve,

Humbly call'd mistress.
King.
Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call
him hither;-

We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition;-Let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
The incensing relicks of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.
Gent.

I shall, my liege. [Exit Gentleman. King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? [highness. Laf. All that he is hath reference to your King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me, That set him high in fame.

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 her, 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, [self, That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom mySince I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it. King. Well excus'd: That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away

From the great compt: But love, that comes too
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, [late,
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, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's

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. B. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never sawit: 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'd1: 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 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,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforce-
ment
[surety,
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to
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 so ;-
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 fear'd too little.-Away with
We'll sift this matter further.
[him ;-
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.

Ber.

[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; Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath for four or five removes, come short To tender it herself. I 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 important visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself.

to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPULET. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him: for this, I'll none of him.

Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves

a woman.

King. How is that?

Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. King. As thou art a knave, and no knave:What an equivocal companion is this?

Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.

Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.

Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. K. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her, for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know.

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in thy evidence: therefore stand aside. -This ring, you say, was yours? Ay, my good lord.

Dia.

King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?

Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

King. Who lent it you?
Dia.

It was not lent me neither.
King. Where did you find it then?
Dia.
I found it not.
K. If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him?
Dia.

I never gave it him.

Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.

Dia. It might be yours or hers for aught I know.

King. Take her away, I do not like her now; To prison with her, and away with him.Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,

Thou diest within this hour.
Dia.

I'll never tell you.

K. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her. Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal sir; [Exit Widow.

The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:

He thinks himself, my bed he hath defil'd; But 'twas his wife who then became with child: And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow, with Helena.

King. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the true office of mine eyes? Is't real, that I see? Hel. No, my good lord; "Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name, and not the thing. Ber. Both, both; O, pardon! Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this

maid,

I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, And, look you, here's your letter; This it says, When from my finger you can get this ring, And are by me with child, &c.-This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,

I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you!O, my dear mother, do I see you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:-[To Parolles.] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let us from point to point this story know,

To make the even truth in pleasure flow:[To Diana. ] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,

Choose thou' thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;

For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid,
Thou keep'st a wife, herself, thyself a maid.
Of that, and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
[Flourish.

Advancing.