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As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Count. 'Tis past, my Liege ;
King. My honour'd Lady,
Laf. This I must say,
King. Praising what is lost,
(39) Natural Rebellion, done i'th' blade of Youth,] If this Reading be genuine, the Metaphor must be from any Grain, or Plant, taking Fire: but, I own, it seems more in Shakespeare's way of Thinking to suppose He wrote ;
Natural Rebellion, done i'th' blaze of Youth, i. e. in the Fervour, Flame, &c. So He has expressd himself, upon a like Occasion, in Hamlet,
I do know,
Lends the Tongue Vows. These Blazes, O my Daughter, &c.
For Hector, in bis Blaze of Wrath, subscribes
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
Gent. I shall, my Liege.
spoke? Laf. All, that he is, hath reference to your High
ness. King. Then shall we have a Match. I have letters
That set him high in fame.
Laf. He looks well on't.
King. I'm not a day of season,
Ber. My high-repented Blames,
King. All is whole,
Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first
King. Well excus'd: That thou didst love her, strikes fome scores away From the great 'compt; but Love, that comes too late, Like a remorseful Pardon flowly carried, To the great Sender turns a lowre 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 duft: Our own love, waking, cries to see what's done, While shameful hate fleeps 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 : Count. (40) Which better than the first, О dear
heav'n, bless, Or, ere they meet, in me, 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. Her's 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
(40) Which better than the first, 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 prehx the Countess's Name to these two Lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a Favourer of Bertram : but if Bertram should make a bad Husband the second Time, why should it give the King such mortal Pangs? A fond and disappointed Mother might reasonably not desire to live to see such a Day: and from her the Wilh of dying, rather than to behold it, comes with Propriety.
Necessitied to help, that by this token
Ber. My gracious Sovereign,
Count. Son, on my life,
Laf. I'm sure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, she never saw it ;
King. Plutus himself,
Ber. She never saw it.
noble She was, and thought
noble She was, and thought
King. Thou speak't it falsely, as I love mine konour;
I know not-thou didst hate her deadly,
[Guards seize Bertram.
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.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. Gracious Sovereign,
The King reads a Letter.. Upon bis 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, bis vows are forfeited to me, and my Honour's paid to bim. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to this Country for justice : grant it me, Ó King, in you it bejt lyes; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor Maid is undone.