LITMIR.BIZ

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ring again.

       KING.

       Plutus himself,

       That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,

       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 call’d the saints to surety

       That she would never put it from her finger

       Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,—

       Where you have never come,—or sent it us

       Upon her great disaster.

       BERTRAM.

       She never saw it.

       KING.

       Thou speak’st it falsely, as I love mine honour;

       And mak’st conjectural fears to come into me

       Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove

       That thou art so inhuman,—‘twill not prove so:—

       And yet I know not:—thou didst hate her deadly.

       And she is dead; which nothing, but to close

       Her eyes myself, could win me to believe

       More than to see this ring.—Take him away.

       [Guards seize BERTRAM.]

       My forepast proofs, howe’er the matter fall,

       Shall tax my fears of little vanity,

       Having vainly fear’d too little.—Away with him;—

       We’ll sift this matter further.

       BERTRAM.

       If you shall prove

       This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy

       Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,

       Where she yet never was.

       [Exit, guarded.]

       KING.

       I am wrapp’d in dismal thinkings.

       [Enter a Gentleman.]

       GENTLEMAN.

       Gracious sovereign,

       Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not:

       Here’s a petition from a Florentine,

       Who hath, for four or five removes, come short

       To tender it herself. I undertook it,

       Vanquish’d thereto by the fair grace and speech

       Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,

       Is here attending: her business looks in her

       With an importing visage; and she told me

       In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern

       Your highness with herself.

       KING. [Reads.] ‘Upon his 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; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour’s paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPULET.’

       LAFEU. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll this: I’ll none of him.

       KING.

       The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,

       To bring forth this discovery.—Seek these suitors:—

       Go speedily, and bring again the count.

       [Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.]

       I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,

       Was foully snatch’d.

       COUNTESS.

       Now, justice on the doers!

       [Enter BERTRAM, guarded.]

       KING.

       I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you.

       And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,

       Yet you desire to marry.—What woman’s that?

       [Re-enter Widow and DIANA.]

       DIANA.

       I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,

       Derived from the ancient Capulet;

       My suit, as I do understand, you know,

       And therefore know how far I may be pitied.

       WIDOW.

       I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour

       Both suffer under this complaint we bring,

       And both shall cease, without your remedy.

       KING.

       Come hither, count; do you know these women?

       BERTRAM.

       My lord, I neither can nor will deny

       But that I know them: do they charge me further?

       DIANA.

       Why do you look so strange upon your wife?

       BERTRAM.

       She’s none of mine, my lord.

       DIANA.

       If you shall marry,

       You give away this hand, and that is mine;

       You give away heaven’s vows, and those are mine;

       You give away myself, which is known mine;

       For I by vow am so embodied yours

       That she which marries you must marry me,

       Either both or none.

       LAFEU. [To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her.

       BERTRAM.

       My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature

       Whom sometime I have laugh’d with: let your highness

       Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour

       Than for to think that I would sink it here.

       KING.

       Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend

       Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour

       Than in my thought it lies!

       DIANA.

       Good my lord,

       Ask him upon his oath, if he does think

       He had not my virginity.

       KING.

       What say’st thou to her?

       BERTRAM.

       She’s impudent, my lord;

       And was a common gamester to the camp.

       DIANA.

       He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so

       He might have bought me at a common price:

       Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,

       Whose high respect and rich validity

       Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,

       He gave it to a commoner o’ the camp,

       If I be one.

       COUNTESS.

       He blushes, and ‘tis it:

       Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,

      

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