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.
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