Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single word, Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall ha't, saue your word
Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles
Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion, giue me your hand: How does your drumme? Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found mee
Laf. Was I insooth? 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 vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talke of you last night, though you are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow
Par. I praise God for you.
Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with attendants.
Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne, As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know Her estimation home
Old La. 'Tis past my Liege, And I beseech your Maiestie to make it Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth, When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force, Ore-beares it, and burnes on
Kin. My honour'd Lady, I haue forgiuen and forgotten all, Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him, And watch'd the time to shoote
Laf. This I must say, But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie, Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife, Whose beauty did astonish the suruey Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue, Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue, Humbly call'd Mistris
Kin. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither, We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon, The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper then obliuion, we do burie Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender; and informe him So 'tis our will he should
Gent. I shall my Liege
Kin. What sayes he to your daughter, Haue you spoke? Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes
Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent me, that sets him high in fame. Enter Count Bertram.
Laf. He lookes well on't
Kin. I am not a day of season, For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile In me at once: But to the brightest beames Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth, The time is faire againe
Ber. My high repented blames Deere Soueraigne pardon to me
Kin. 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 noiselesse foot of time Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this Lord? Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue: Where the impression of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me, Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour, Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne, Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came, That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe, Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye The dust that did offend it