He lost a wife
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd mistress.
KING Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither;
We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him
So 'tis our will he should.
Gentleman I shall, my liege.
[Exit]
KING What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?
LAFEU All that he is hath reference to your highness.
KING Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
That set him high in fame.
[Enter BERTRAM]
LAFEU He looks well on't.
KING I am not a day of season,
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once: but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth;
The time is fair again.
BERTRAM My high-repented blames,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
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