Offence of mighty note, but to himself

The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife 15

Whose beauty did astonish the survey

Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,

Whose dear perfection hearts that scorned to serve

Humbly called mistress.

KING

Praising what is lost

Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither.

We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill

All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon.

The nature of his great offence is dead,

And deeper than oblivion we do bury

Th‘incensing relics of it. Let him approach

A stranger, no offender; and inform him

So ’tis our will he should.

ATTENDANT

I shall, my liege. Exit

KING (to Lafeu)

What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke?

LAFEU

All that he is hath reference to your highness.

KING

Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me

That sets him high in fame.

Enter Bertram with a patch of velvet on his left cheek, and kneels⌉

LAFEU He looks well on’t.

KING (to Bertram) I am not a day of season,

For thou mayst see a sunshine 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.

BERTRAM

My high-repented blames,

Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

KING

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 noiseless foot of time

Steals ere we can effect them. You remember

The daughter of this lord?

BERTRAM

Admiringly, my liege. At first 45

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart

Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue;

Where, the impression of mine eye enfixing,

Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,

Which warped the line of every other favour,

Stained a fair colour or expressed it stolen,

Extended or contracted all proportions

To a most hideous object. Thence it came

That she whom all men praised and whom myself,

Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye 55

The dust that did offend it.

KING

Well excused.

That thou didst love her strikes some scores away

From the great count. But love that comes too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the grace-sender turns a sour offence, 60

Crying, ‘That’s good that’s gone.’ Our rash faults

Make trivial price of serious things we have,

Not knowing them until we know their grave.

Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,

Destroy our friends and after weep their dust. 65

Our own love waking cries to see what’s done,

While shameful hate sleeps 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.

⌈COUNTESS⌉

Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless!

Or ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease.

LAFEU (to Bertram)

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.

Bertram gives Lafeu a ring

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 ere I took her leave at court,

I saw upon her finger.

BERTRAM

Hers it was not.

KING

Now pray you let me see it; for mine eye,

While I was speaking, oft was fastened to’t.

Lafeu gives him the ring

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?

BERTRAM

My gracious sovereign,

Howe’er it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was never hers.

COUNTESS

Son, on my life

I have seen her wear it, and she reckoned it

At her life’s rate.

LAFEU

I am sure I saw her wear it.

BERTRAM

You are deceived, my lord, she never saw it.

In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,

Wrapped in a paper which contained the name

Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought

I stood ingaged. But when I had subscribed

To mine own fortune, and informed her fully

I could not answer in that course of honour

As she had made the overture, she ceased

In heavy satisfaction, and would never

Receive the ring again.

KING

Plutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying med‘cine,

Hath not in nature’s mystery more science

Than I have in this ring. ’Twas mine, ’twas Helen’s,

Whoever gave it you. Then if you know

That you are well acquainted with yourself,

Confess ’twas hers, and by what rough enforcement

You got it from her. She called the saints to surety

That she would never put it from her finger