William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

LAFEU. Hold thee, there’s my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still.

CLOWN. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in his court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some that humble themselves may; but the many will be too chill and tender; and they’ll be for the flow’ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

LAFEU. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.

CLOWN. If I put any tricks upon ‘em, sir, they shall be jades’ tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature.

[Exit.]

LAFEU.

A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.

COUNTESS. So he is. My lord that’s gone made himself much sport out of him; by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will.

LAFEU. I like him well; ‘tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady’s death, and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance did first propose: His highness hath promised me to do it; and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?

COUNTESS.

With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected.

LAFEU. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he will be here tomorrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.

COUNTESS. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here tonight: I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together.

LAFEU. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.

COUNTESS.

You need but plead your honourable privilege.

LAFEU.

Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my

God, it holds yet.

[Re-enter CLOWN.]

CLOWN. O madam, yonder’s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on’s face; whether there be a scar under it or no, the velvet knows; but ‘tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare.

LAFEU. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so belike is that.

CLOWN.

But it is your carbonadoed face.

LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young noble soldier.

CLOWN. Faith, there’s a dozen of ‘em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V.

SCENE 1. Marseilles. A street.

[Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants.]

HELENA.

But this exceeding posting day and night

Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it.

But since you have made the days and nights as one,

To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,

Be bold you do so grow in my requital

As nothing can unroot you. In happy time;—

[Enter a GENTLEMAN.]

This man may help me to his majesty’s ear,

If he would spend his power.—God save you, sir.

GENTLEMAN.

And you.

HELENA.

Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

GENTLEMAN.

I have been sometimes there.

HELENA.

I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen

From the report that goes upon your goodness;

And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,

Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

The use of your own virtues, for the which

I shall continue thankful.

GENTLEMAN.

What’s your will?

HELENA.

That it will please you

To give this poor petition to the king;

And aid me with that store of power you have

To come into his presence.

GENTLEMAN.

The king’s not here.

HELENA.

Not here, sir?

GENTLEMAN.

Not indeed.

He hence remov’d last night, and with more haste

Than is his use.

WIDOW.

Lord, how we lose our pains!

HELENA.

All’s well that ends well yet,

Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.

I do beseech you, whither is he gone?

GENTLEMAN.

Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;

Whither I am going.

HELENA.

I do beseech you, sir,

Since you are like to see the king before me,

Commend the paper to his gracious hand;

Which I presume shall render you no blame,

But rather make you thank your pains for it:

I will come after you with what good speed

Our means will make us means.

GENTLEMAN.

This I’ll do for you.

HELENA.

And you shall find yourself to be well thank’d,

Whate’er falls more.—We must to horse again;—

Go, go, provide.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE 2. Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNTESS’S palace.

[Enter CLOWN and PAROLLES.]

PAROLLES. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune’s mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

CLOWN. Truly, Fortune’s displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speak’st of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune’s buttering. Pr’ythee, allow the wind.

PAROLLES. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor.

CLOWN. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man’s metaphor. Pr’ythee, get thee further.

PAROLLES.

Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

CLOWN. Foh, pr’ythee stand away. A paper from Fortune’s close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look here he comes himself.

[Enter LAFEU.]

Here is a pur of fortune’s, sir, or of fortune’s cat (but not a musk-cat), that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

[Exit.]

PAROLLES.

My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

LAFEU. And what would you have me to do? ‘tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There’s a quart d’ecu for you: let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

PAROLLES.

I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.

LAFEU. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha’t: save your word.

PAROLLES.

My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

LAFEU. You beg more than word then.—Cox’ my passion! give me your hand:—how does your drum?

PAROLLES.

O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

LAFEU.

Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.

PAROLLES. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

LAFEU. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings the in grace, and the other brings thee out.

[Trumpets sound.]

The king’s coming; I know by his trumpets.—Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat: go to; follow.