Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my love so high;
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune Nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.1
Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose,
What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease-my project may deceive me;
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me.

SCENE TI.

Paris. A room in the King's palace.

[Exit.

Florish of cornets. Enter KING OF FRANCE, with letters; Lords and others attending.

King. The Florentines and Senoys 2 are by the

ears;

Have fought with equal fortune, and continue

A braving war.

1 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

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
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord.

His love and wisdom,

Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.

King.

He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

2 Lord.

It may well serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick

For breathing and exploit.

King.

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. King. I would I had that corporal soundness

now,

As when thy father and myself in friendship
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long;

1

But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs 1 me
To talk of your good father.
In his youth

He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honor.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awaked them; and his honor,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his 2 hand: who were below him
He used as creatures of another place;

And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,

Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled.

Such a man

Might be a copy to these younger times;

Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward.

Ber.

His good remembrance, sir,

Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb);

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,

1 Renovates.

2 Its.

3

Approbation.

To grow there, and to bear)—Let me not live,—'
Thus his good melancholy oft began,

On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out;-let me not live,' quoth he,
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff

Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; 1 whose constancies
Expire before their fashions: -This he wish'a :

I, after him, do after him wish too,

Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

To give some laborers room.

2 Lord.

You are loved, sir;

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know 't.-How long is 't,

count,

Since the physician at your father's died?

He was much famed.

Ber.

Some six months since, my lord. 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.

Ber.

Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt. Florish.

Merely inventors of new modes of dress.

SCENE III.

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 poor fellow.

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?

Clown. I do beg your good will in this case.

1 To act up to your desires.

2 To be married.