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    Act 1, Scene II

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    SCENE II. Paris. The KING's palace.

    Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, with letters, and divers Attendants
    KING
    The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
    Have fought with equal fortune and continue
    A braving war.

    First Lord
    So 'tis reported, sir.

    KING
    Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it
    A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
    With caution that the Florentine will move us
    For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
    Prejudicates the business and would seem
    To have us make denial.

    First 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.

    Second Lord
    It well may serve
    A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
    For breathing and exploit.

    KING
    What's he comes here?

    Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES

    First 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.

    BERTRAM
    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;
    But on us both did haggish age steal on
    And wore us out of act. It much repairs 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 honour;
    So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
    Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
    His equal had awaked them, and his honour,
    Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
    Exception bid him speak, and at this time
    His tongue obey'd his 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.

    BERTRAM
    His good remembrance, sir,
    Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;
    So in approof 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,'--
    This 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; whose constancies
    Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd;
    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 labourers room.

    Second 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.

    BERTRAM
    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.

    BERTRAM
    Thank your majesty.

    Exeunt. Flourish
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