_Laf._ This I must say, But first I beg my pardon, the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife 15 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; 20 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, 25 A stranger, no offender; and inform him So 'tis our will he should. _Gent._ I shall, my liege. [_Exit._ _King._ What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? _Laf._ All that he is hath reference to your highness. _King._ Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me 30 That set him high in fame. _Enter_ BERTRAM. _Laf._ 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; 35 The time is fair again. _Ber._ My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. _King._ All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 40 The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord? _Ber._ Admiringly, my liege, at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 45 Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue: Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour; Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen; 50 Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object: thence it came That she whom all men praised and whom myself, Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it.