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Crying, that's good that is gone: our rafh faults
Destroy our friends, and, after, weep their duft:
Count. (25) Which better than the firft, O dear
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, ceafe!
Laf. Come on, my fon, in whom my houfe's name Muft be digested: give a favour from you To fparkle in the fpirits of my daughter, That the may quickly come. By my old beard, And ev'ry hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a fweet creature: fuch a ring as this, The laft that e'er fhe took her leave at court, I faw upon her finger.
Ber. Her's it was not.
King. Now, pray you, let me fee it: For mine eye, While I was fpeaking, oft was faften'd to't.
This ring was mine; and, when I
I bad her, if her fortunes ever ftood
I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her Of what should stead her moft?
(25) Which better than the firft, O dear Heav'n, blefs,
Or, e'er they meet, in me, O Nature, cease!] I have ventur'd, against the Authority of the printed Copies, to prefix the Countess Name to these two Lines. The King appears,. indeed, to be a. Favourer of Bertram:, but if Bertram should make a bad Husband the fecond Time, why should it give the King fuch mortal Pangs? A fond; and difappointed Mother might reasonably not defire to live to, fee fuch a Day: and1 from her the Wish of dying, rather than to behold it, comes with Propriety,
Ber. My gracious Sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it fo
The ring was never her's.
Count. Son, on my life,
I've seen her wear it, and the reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
Laf. I'm fure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, she never faw 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: (26) Noble fhe was, and thought
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
King. Plutus himself,
That knows the tinet and multiplying medicine,
(Where you have never come) or fent it us
Ber. She never faw it.
noble She was, and thought
I ftood engag'd;-] I don't understand this Reading; if we are to understand, that She thought Bertram engag'd to her in Affection, infnar'd by her Charms, this Meaning is too obfcurely exprefs'd. The Context rather makes me believe, that the Poet wrote,
-noble She was, and thought
I ftood ungag'd;
i. ç. unengag'd: neither my Heart, nor Perfon, difpos'd of.
King. Thou fpeak'ft it falfely, as I love mine honour; And mak'ft conject'ral fears to come into me, Which I would fain fhut out; if it fhould prove That thou art fo inhuman-'twill not prove fo And yet I know not-thou didst hate her deadly, And the is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to fee this ring. Take him away.
[Guards feize Bertram, My fore paft proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Ber. If you fhall prove,
This ring was ever hers, you fhall as eafie
Where yet fhe never was.
[Exit Bertram guarded.
Enter a Gentleman.
King, I'm wrap'd in difmal thinkings.
Whether I've been to blame or no, I know not!
Who hath for four or five removes come short
The King reads a letter.
Upon his many proteflations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Nor is the Count Roufillon a widower, his vows are forfeited to me, and my bonour's paid to him. He ftole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to this country for juftice: grant it me, O King, in you it beft lyes; otherwife a feducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. Diana Capulet.
Laf. I will buy me a fon-in-law in a fair, and toll for him. For this, I'll hone of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, To bring forth this discov'ry. Seek thefe fuitors; Go fpeedily, and bring again the Count.
I am afraid, the life of Helen (lady).....)
Count. Now juftice on the doers!
King. I wonder, Sir, wives are fo monftrous to you, And that you fly them as you fwear to them;
Yet you defire to wed. What woman's that?
Enter Widow and Diana.
Dia. I am, my Lord, a wretched Florentine,
My fuit, as I do understand, you know,
Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whofe age and honour
King. Come hither, Count; do you know thefe we
Ber. My Lord, I neither can, nor will, deny But that I know them; do they charge me further? Dia. Why do you look fa ftrange upon your wife? Ber. She's none of mine, my Lord.
Dia. If you fhall marry, b
You give away this hand, and that is mines
You give away heav'n's vows, and thofe are mine
You give away myfelf, which is known mine ouɔ ab*! 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 daugh
ter, you are no husband for her.
[To Bertram. Ber: My Lord, this is a fond and defp'rate creature, Whom fometime I have laugh'd with: let your High
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to
'Till your deeds gain them:
Than in my thought it lies!
fairer prove your honour,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
King. What fay'ft thou to her?
Ber. She's impudent, my Lord;
And was a common gamefter to the camp.
Dia. He does me wrong, my Lord; if I were fe,
Count. He blushes, and 'tis his:
That ring's a thoufand proofs.
King. Methought, you faid,
This is his wife,
You faw one here in Court could witness it.
He's quoted for a most perfidious flave,
With all the fpots o'th' world tax'd and debosh'd,
That will speak any thing?
King. She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. I think, fhe 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