Lafew

Countess
In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
Bertram
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, evermore
in subjection.

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

Lafew
You shall find of the King a husband,
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Countess 
Be thou blessed, 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,
Do wrong to none

Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to noneIsocolon.
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Lafew
Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit
of your father. Bertram and Lafew exit.
Helen
O, were that all! I think not on my father,
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him.

Th’ ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love.
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Lafew
But, my good lord, ’tis thus: will you be cured
Of your infirmity?
King
No.

I have seen a medicine
That’s able to breathe life into a stone,
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With sprightly fire and motion

Lafew
O, will you eat
No grapes,
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Bertram, to Parolles
Is there any unkindness
between my lord and you, monsieur?
Parolles
I know not how I have deserved to run into
my lord’s displeasure.

There can be no kernel in this light nut;
the soul of this man is his clothes.

Lafew
You have made shift to run into ’t,
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Lafew
No, no, no, your son was misled with a
snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron
would have made all the unbaked and doughy
youth of a nation in his color. Your daughter-in-law
had been alive at this hour, and your son here
at home, more advanced by the King than by that
red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.
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King
We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it. But your son,
As mad in folly, lacked the sense to know
Her estimation home.
Countess
’Tis past, my liege,
And I beseech your Majesty to make it
Natural rebellion done i’ th’ blade of youth,
When oil and fire,
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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.

For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees
Th’ inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them.
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King
This ring you say was yours?
Diana
Ay, my good lord.
King
Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you?
Diana
It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.

This woman’s an easy glove, my lord;
she goes off and on at pleasure.
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