[Flourish. Enter King, old Lady Countess, Lafew, the two French Lords, with Attendants.]

KING OF FRANCE

We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem

Was made much poorer by it; but your son,

As mad in folly, lack’d the sense to know

Her estimation home.

COUNTESS OF ROUSSILLON

’Tis past, my liege,

And I beseech your Majesty to make it

Natural rebellion, done i’ th’ blade of youth,

When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force,

O’erbears it, and burns on.

KING OF FRANCE

My honor’d lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all,

Though my revenges were high bent upon him,

And watch’d the time to shoot.

LAFEW

This I must say—

But first I beg my pardon—the young lord

Did to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady

Offense of mighty note; but to himself

The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife

Whose beauty