King.
The Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears;* ^note
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.

1 Lord.
So 'tis reported, sir.

King.
Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it,
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria;
With caution, that the Florentine will move us,
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord.
His love, and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead
For ample credence.

King.
He hath arm'd our answer;
And Florence is deny'd, before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

King.
What's he comes here? Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.

1 Lord.
It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, young Bertram.

King.
Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face.
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit, too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber.
My thanks and duty are your majesty's.

King.
I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself, in friendship,
First try'd our soldiership. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father:* ^note

Such a man,
Might be a copy to these younger times.

Ber.
His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb.

King.
'Would I were with him! he would always say,
(Methinks, I hear him now) let me not live,
(Thus, his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe, and heel of pastime,
When it was out) Let me not live, (quoth he)
After my flame lacks oil; to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.—This he wish'd.
I, after him, do, after him, wish too,
(Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home)
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.* ^note
How long is't, count,
Since the physician at your father's, died?
He was much fam'd.

Ber.
Some six months since, my lord.

King.
If he were living, I would try him yet.—
Lend me an arm;—the rest have worn me out,
With several applications. Nature and sickness
Debate it, at their leisure. Welcome, count,
My son's no dearer.

Ber.
Thank your majesty. [Exeunt.

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