Act 1 - Scene 2
Paris. The KING's palace.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, with letters, and divers Attendants
The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have fought with equal fortune and continue
A braving war.
So 'tis reported, sir.
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
To have us make denial.
His love and wisdom,
Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.
He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.
It well may serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.
What's he comes here?
Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES
It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
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.
My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
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;
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
their own scorn return to them unnoted
Ere they can hide their levity in honour;
So like a courtier, contempt
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