King.
We lost a jewel of her ^note; and our esteem ^note
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

Count.
'Tis past, my liege;
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze ^note of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it and burns ^note 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 ^note
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
Whose 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 ^note reconciled, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
The nature ^note of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do ^note bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent.
I shall, my liege. [Exit.

King.
What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? ^note

Laf.
All that he is hath reference to your highness. ^note

King.
Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
That set ^note him high in fame. Enter Bertram. ^note

Laf.
He looks well on't. ^note

King.
I am ^note not a day of season,
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand 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 consumed time.
Let's take the instant by the forward ^note 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 ^note
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 ^note the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd ^note a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object: thence it came
That she whom all men praised and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King.
Well excused:
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: but love that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender ^note turns a sour ^note offence, ^note
Crying ‘That's good that's gone ^note.’ Our ^note rash faults ^note
Make trivial ^note 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 ^note love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate ^note sleeps ^note out the afternoon ^note.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin ^note:

The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Count. ^note
Which better than the first, O dear ^note heaven, bless!
Or, ere they meet, ^note in me ^note, O nature, cesse ^note!

Laf.
Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested ^note, give a favour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. [Bertram gives a ring. ^note] By my old beard,
And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I ^note took her leave ^note at court,
I saw upon her finger.

Ber.
Hers it was not.

King.
Now, pray you, let me see 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
Necessitied ^note to help, that by this token
I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her
Of what should stead her most?

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 ^note seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's ^note rate.

Laf.
I am ^note sure I saw her wear it.

Ber.
You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it:
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 engaged ^note: but when I had subscribed
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 ceased
In heavy satisfaction and would never
Receive the ring again.

King.
Plutus ^note 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 enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself ^note 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 makest conjectural ^note fears to come into me,
Which I would fain ^note shut out. ^note 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. ^note
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax ^note my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him!

We'll sift this matter further.

Ber.
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. [Exit, guarded. ^{note note}

King.
I am ^note wrapp'd in dismal thinkings ^note. Enter ^note a Gentleman.

Gent.
Gracious sovereign,
Whether I have ^note been to blame ^note or no, I know not:
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath ^note for four ^note 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 importing ^note visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [reads ^note]

Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush 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 ^note country for justice: grant it me, O king! in you it best ^note lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.

Diana Capilet ^note.

Laf.

I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair ^note, and toll ^note for this: I'll ^note none of him ^note.

King.
The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,
To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors: ^note
Go speedily and bring again the count.
I am afeard ^note the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.

Count.
Now, justice on the doers! Re-enter Bertram, guarded. ^note

King.
I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters ^note to you,
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship ^note,
Yet you desire to marry ^note. Enter Widow and Diana. ^note
What woman's that?

Dia.
I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capilet ^{note note}:
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

Wid.
I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedy.

King.
Come hither ^note, count; do you ^note 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 so strange upon your wife?

Ber.
She's none of mine, my lord.

Dia.
If you shall marry,
You give away this hand, and that is ^note mine;
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
You give away myself ^note, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you must marry me,
Either both or none. ^note

Laf.

Your reputation comes too ^note short for my daughter; you are no husband for her.

Ber.
My lord, this a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
Than for ^note to think that I would sink it here.

King.
Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
Till your deeds gain them: fairer ^note prove your honour
Than in my thought it lies.

Dia.
Good ^note my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.

King.
What say'st thou to her?

Ber.
She's impudent, my lord,
And was a common gamester to the camp.

Dia.
He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel; yet for all that
He gave it to a commoner o' ^note the camp,
If I be one.

Count. ^note
He blushes, and 'tis it ^note:

Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent ^note issue,
Hath it ^note been owed and worn. This is his wife;
That ring's a thousand proofs.

King.
Methought you said
You saw one here in court could witness it.

Dia.
I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles.

Laf.
I saw the man to-day, if man he be.

King.
Find him, and bring him hither. [Exit an Attendant. ^note

Ber.
What of him? ^note
He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' ^note the world tax'd and debosh'd;
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. ^note
Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
That will speak any thing?

King.
She hath that ring of yours.

Ber.
I think she has: certain it is I liked her,
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for me ^note,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Her infinite cunning ^note, with her modern ^note grace ^note,
Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had that which any ^note inferior might
At market-price have bought.

Dia.
I must be patient:

You, that have turn'd off ^note a first so noble wife,
May justly diet ^note me. I pray you yet,
Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband,
Send for your ring, I will return it ^note home,
And give me mine again.

Ber.
I have it not.

King.
What ring was yours, I pray you?

Dia.
Sir, much like
The same upon your finger ^note.

King.
Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.

Dia.
And this was it I gave him, being abed.

King.
The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a casement.

Dia.
I have spoke the truth ^note. Enter Parolles. ^{note note}

Ber.
My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.

King.
You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you.
Is this the man you speak of?

Dia.
Ay ^note, my lord.

King.
Tell me, sirrah ^note, but tell me true ^note, I charge you,
Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off,
By him and by this woman here what know you?

Par.

So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman ^note: tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

King.

Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?

Par.

Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?

King.

How, ^note I pray you?

Par.

He did love her, sir, as a gentleman ^note 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. ^note 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.

King.

But ^note wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?

Par.

Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he ^note loved her: ^note 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 which ^note 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. ^note

Dia.
Ay, my good lord.

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

Dia.
It was not given me, nor I did not ^note 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.

King.
If it were yours by none of all these ways,

How could you give it ^note 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.

King.
Take her away.

Dia.
I'll put in bail, my liege.

King.
I think thee now some common customer. ^note

Dia.
By Jove ^note, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.

King.
Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?

Dia.
Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty:
He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't;
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; ^note
I am ^note either maid, or else this old ^note man's wife.

King.
She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.

Dia.
Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir: [Exit Widow. ^note
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
He knows himself my bed he hath defiled;
And at that time he got his wife with child:
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick:
So there's my riddle,—One that's dead is quick:
And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter ^note Widow, with Helena.

King.
Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer 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 ^note by me with child,’ &c. This is done ^note:
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 ^note]
Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher ^{note note}: so,
I thank ^note thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee:
Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. ^note

King.
Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow. [To Diana ^note]
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 kept'st ^{note note} a wife herself, thyself a maid.

Of that and all the progress, more or ^note less,
Resolvedly ^note more leisure shall express:
All yet seems well; and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish. ^{note note}

EPILOGUE. [Footnote: King.
The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife ^note to please you, day exceeding ^note day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt.

NOTES. ^note