All’s Well 1.2 King

First Lord

It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.

King

Youth, though bear’s thy father’s face;

Thy father’s moral parts

Mayst 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 friendship

First tried our soldiership! It much repairs me

To talk of your good father.

BERTRAM

                                 His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb. 

So in approof lives not his epitaph

As in your royal speech.

KING

Would I were with him! He would always say--
Methinks I hear him now; --'Let me not live,'--
'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits’….This he wish'd;
I, after him, do after him wish too,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.

First Lord

You are loved, sir:

King

I fill a place, I know’t. How long is’t, count,

Since the physician at your father’s died?

BERTRAM

Some six months since, my lord.

KING

If he were living, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arm; Welcome, count;
My son's no dearer.

BERTRAM

Thank your majesty.

Exeunt.

End of Scene