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you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart
d'ecu for you: Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.
Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single
Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word.
Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word then.-Cox' my passion! give me your hand:- How does your drum?
Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.
Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.
Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming, I know by his trumpets.—Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. Par. I praise God for you.
A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE.
Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords,
King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
Laf. This I must say,But first I beg my pardon, --The young lord Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, 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.
Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear. -Well, call him
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
I shall, my liege.
[Exit Gentleman. says he to your daughter? have you
King. What spoke?
Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters
That set him high in fame.
He looks well on't.
King. I am 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.
Dear sovereign pardon to me.
All is whole;
My high-repented blames,
The daughter of this lord?
My liege: At first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
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,
Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, 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 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 took her leave at court, I saw upon her finger.
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 to help, that by this token I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most?
My gracious sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
was never her's.
Son, on my life,
At her life's rate.
I am 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, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd: but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,