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Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Paris. A room in the King's palace. Florish of cornets. Enter KING OF FRANCE, with
letters ; Lords and others attending. King. The Florentines and Senoys ? are by the
ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war.
i Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us
r Things formed by nature for each other.
? The inhabitants of a small republic, of which Sienna is the capital.
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
His love and wisdom,
He hath arm'd our answer,
What's he comes here?
Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face : Frank Nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomi); So in approof 3 lives not his epitaph, As in your royal speech. King. Would I were with him! He would always
say, (Methinks, I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear) — Let me not live,-'
You are loved, sir;
first. King. I fill a place, I know 't.—How long is 't,
Some six months since, my lora. King. If he were living, I would try him yet
.. Lend me an arm ;—the rest have worn me out With several applications :-nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son 's no dearer.
Thank your majesty.
Merely inventors of new modes of dress.
Rousillon. A room in the Countess's palace.
Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and clown. Count. I will now hear : what say you of this gentlewoman?
Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content,1 I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavors; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
Count. What does this knave here ? Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not all believe ; 'tis my slowness, that I do not: for, I know, you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.
Clown. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a
Count. Well, sir.
Clown. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned: but, it I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world,? Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?
i To act up to your desires.
? To be married.