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BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.

LAFEU, an old lord.

PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.

Several young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the

Florentine war.




servants to the countess of Rousillon.

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram.

HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the countess.

An old WIDOW of Florence.

DIANA, daughter to the widow.



neighbors and friends to the widow.

Lords attending on the king; Officers, Soldiers, &c.
French and Florentine.

SCENE, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany,




Rousillon. A room in the Countess's palace. Enter BERTRAM, COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,1 evermore in subjection.

La. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;—you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

The heirs of great fortunes were formerly the king's wards.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

La. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process, but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (O, that had!' how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease.

La. How called you the man you speak of, madam?

Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

La. He was excellent, indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowlege could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

La. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Was this

La. I would, it were not notorious. gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an

unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.

La. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood 2 from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too.

La. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.3

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.

La. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou bless'd, Bertram! and succeed thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,

1 Qualities of good breeding and erudition.

2 Appearance of life.

3 If the living do not indulge grief, grief destroys itself by its own excess.'-Johnson.

Do wrong to one: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What Heaven more


That thee may furnish,1 and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,

'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him.

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That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him !—Farewell, Bertram.

[Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [to Helena.] be servants to you! 2 Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

La. Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt Ber. and La. Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my


And these great tears grace his remembrance more,
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favor in 't, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,

1 Help thee with more and better qualifications.
2 May you be mistress of your wishes.

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