King.
I'm wrap'd in dismal thinking.

Gent.
Gracious sovereign,
Whether I've 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 her self. 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 visage, and she told me
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with her self.

The King reads a letter.

Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, be 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 this country for justice: grant it me, O King, in you it best lyes, 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 for this.
I'll none of him.

King.
The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,
To bring forth this discov'ry. Seek these suitors:
Go speedily, and bring again the Count.

Enter Bertram.
I am afraid the life of Helen (lady)
Was fouly snatch'd.

Count.
Now justice on the doers.

King.
I wonder, Sir, wives are so monstrous to you,
And that you fly them as you swear to them;
Yet you desire to wed. What woman's that! Enter Widow and Diana.

Dia.
I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;
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, Count; do you 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 mine;
You give away heav'n's vows, and those are mine;
You give away my self, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you must marry me,
Either both or none.

Laf.

Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her.

Ber.
My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour
Than e'er 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: prove your honour
Than in my thought it lies.

Dia.
Good 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'th' camp,
If I be one.

Count.
He blushes, and 'tis his:
Of six preceding ancestors, that gemm
Conferr'd by testament to th' subsequent issue,
Hath it been ow'd 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 loth 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.

Ber.
What of him?
He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o'th' world, tax'd and debosh'd,
Which nature sickens with: but to speak truth,

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 lik'd her,
And boarded her i'th' wanton way of youth:
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint;
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy, and in fine,
Her insuit coming with her modern grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate: she got the ring,
And I had that which any inferior might
At market-price have bought.

Dia.
I must be patient:
You that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,
Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband,
Send for your ring, I will return it 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.

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

Dia.
And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.

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

Dia.
I have spoke the truth.

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