Laf.
He looks well on't.

King.
I'm not a day of season,
For thou may'st see a sun-shine 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 top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' 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 enfixing,
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 stoll'n,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object: thence it came,
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my self,
Since 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 late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender, turns a sowre offence,
Crying, that's good that is gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave,
Oft our displeasures to our selves 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:

Which better than the first, O dear heav'n bless,
Or, ere they meet, in me O nature, cease.

Laf.
Come on my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested: give a favour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. By my old beard,
And ev'ry hair that's on't, Helen that's dead
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that e'er she took her leave 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 bad her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessited 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've seen her wear it, and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.

Laf.
I'm sure I saw her wear it.

Ber.
You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it;
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood engag'd, 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 ceast

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 your self,
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 your self 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 falsly, as I love mine honour;
And mak'st conject'ral 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 my self, 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 him,
We'll sift this matter further.

Ber.
If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easie
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. [Exit Bertram guarded.

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