« السابقةمتابعة »
Count. "Tis paft, my Liege ;
King. My honour'd Lady,
Laf. This I must say,
King. Praising what is loft,
Gent. I fall, my Liege.
(39) Natural rebellion, done i'eb' blade of yourb,] If this reading be genuine, the metaphor muft be from any grain, or plant, taking tire : but, I own, it seems more in Shakespeare's way of thinking to suppose he wrote ;
Natural rebellion done i'rb' blaze of youth,
I do know,
Lends the tongue vows. These blazés, O my daughter, &C.
For Hestur, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
King. What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke? Laf. All, that he is, hath reference to your Highness.
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent That let him high in fame.
[me, Enter Bertram. Laf. He looks well on't.
King. I'm not a day of feason,
Ber. My high-repented blames,
King. All is whole,
Ber. Admiringly, my Liege. At first
King. Well excus'd : That thou did it love her, strikes fome scores away From the great 'compt; but love, that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying, that's good that is gone : our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Count. (40) Which better than the first, Ó dear heav'n, Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease! [bless,
Laf: Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
in the spirits of my daughter,
Ber. Her's it was not.
Ber. My gracious Sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never her’s.
(40) Which better than obe first, o dear beav'n bless,
Or, c'er they meer, in me, O nature, cease!) I have venturid, against the authority of the printed copies, to prefix the Countefs's name to these two lines. The King appears, indeed, to be a favourer of Bertram: but if Bertram Mould make a bad husband the fecond time, why should it give the King such mortal pangs ? A fond and disappointed mother might reasonably not defire to live to see fuch a day: and from her the wish of dying, rather than 10 behold it, comes with propriety.
Count. Son, on my life,
kaf. I'm sure, I saw her wear ite
Ber. You are deceiv'd, my Lord, she never saw it ; In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: (41) Noble she was, and though I food ungag'd; but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, the ceaft In heavy fatisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.
King. Plutus himself, That knows the cinct 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: thon 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 surely, 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, Ber. She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; And mak'st conject'ral fears to come into me, Which I would fain shut out; if it should prove That thou art so inhuman-'twill not prove foAnd yet I know not--thou didft hate her deadly,
noble she was,
and though! I food engag'd ;---] ! don't understand this reading; if we are to understand, that the thought Bertram engag'd to her in affeca tion, insnar'd by her charms, this meaning is too obscurely express'd.. The context rather makes me believe, that the Poet wrote,
- noble she was, and thought I food ungag'd; i, e. vnengaged: neither my heart, nor person, dispos d of.
And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close
[Guards seize Bertram,
Ber. If you shall prove, This ring was ever hers, you shall as eary 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 his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Nor is the Count Roufillon a widower, his vows are forfeited to me, and muy honours paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to this country for justice : grant i me, O King, in you it bejt lies; otherwise a feducer flora rijhes, and a poor maid is undone.
Diana Capulet. Laf. I will buy me a fon-in-law in a fair, and toll for him.
For this, I'll none of him. King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafiu,