Bertram leaves for court with Lafew at the king’s command, following his father’s death. The Countess blesses him and asks Lafew to advise him. Lafew reports that the king has a fistula and has given up his physicians. The Countess wishes Helena’s father, the physician Gerard de Narbon, were alive to treat him. Alone, Helena admits her love for Bertram, whose rank is far above hers. She debates virginity with Parolles before he leaves to join Bertram. Helena then fixes on a project connected with the king’s illness, without explaining it.
SCENE II. Paris. A room in the King’s palace.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, with letters; Lords and others attending.
KING
The Florentines and Senoys are by th’ ears;Have fought with equal fortune, and continueA braving war.
FIRST 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 usFor speedy aid; wherein our dearest friendPrejudicates the business, and would seemTo have us make denial.
FIRST LORD
His love and wisdom,Approv’d so to your majesty, may pleadFor amplest credence.
KING
He hath arm’d our answer,And Florence is denied before he comes:Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to seeThe Tuscan service, freely have they leaveTo stand on either part.
SECOND LORD
It well may serveA nursery to our gentry, who are sickFor breathing and exploit.
KING
What’s he comes here?
Enter Bertram, Lafew and Parolles.
FIRST LORD
It is the Count Rossillon, my good lord,Young Bertram.
KING
Youth, thou bear’st thy father’s face;Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,Hath well compos’d thee. Thy father’s moral partsMayst 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 friendshipFirst tried our soldiership. He did look farInto the service of the time, and wasDiscipled of the bravest. He lasted long,But on us both did haggish age steal on,And wore us out of act. It much repairs meTo talk of your good father; in his youthHe had the wit which I can well observeToday in our young lords; but they may jestTill their own scorn return to them unnotedEre they can hide their levity in honourSo like a courtier, contempt nor bitternessWere in his pride or sharpness; if they were,His equal had awak’d them, and his honour,Clock to itself, knew the true minute whenException bid him speak, and at this timeHis tongue obey’d his hand. Who were below himHe us’d 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 manMight be a copy to these younger times;Which, followed well, would demonstrate them nowBut goers backward.
BERTRAM
His good remembrance, sir,Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;So in approof lives not his epitaphAs in your royal speech.
KING
Would I were with him! He would always say,—Methinks I hear him now; his plausive wordsHe scatter’d not in ears, but grafted themTo grow there and to bear,—“Let me not live,”This his good melancholy oft beganOn the catastrophe and heel of pastime,When it was out,—“Let me not live” quoth he,“After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuffOf younger spirits, whose apprehensive sensesAll but new things disdain; whose judgments areMere fathers of their garments; whose constanciesExpire 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 hiveTo give some labourers room.
SECOND LORD
You’re lov’d, 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 fam’d.
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 outWith several applications; nature and sicknessDebate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count;My son’s no dearer.