Be bold you do so grow in my requital, As nothing can unroot you. In happy time; Enter a Gentle Astringer. This man may help me to his Majesty's ear, Astringer. And you. Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the Court of France. Ast. I have been sometimes there. Hel. 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. Ast. What's your will? Hel. 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. Ast. The King's not here. Hel. Ast. Not here, sir? Not, indeed: He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Than is his use. Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! Hel. All's well that ends well, yet; Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit. I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Ast. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going. I do beseech you, sir, Hel. But rather make you thank your pains for it: Ast. This I'll do for you. Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again; Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Rousillon. The inner Court of the COUNTESS's Palace. Enter Clown and PAROLLES. Par. Good Monsieur Lavatch, 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. Clo. 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 butt'ring. Pr'ythee allow the wind. Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor. Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee get thee farther. Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clo. 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 fall'n into the unclean fish-pond 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 smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit. My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratch'd. Par. Laf. 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. Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't save your word. Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Cox' Laf. You beg more than a word, then. my passion! give me your hand. How does your drum? Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me. Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the Devil? one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The King's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire farther after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat: go to; follow. Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt SCENE III. The Same. A Room in the COUNTESS's Palace. Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c. King. 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. Count. '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, King. My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him, This I must say, Laf. Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; King. Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; Gentleman. I shall, my liege. [Exit. King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? Laf. All that he is hath reference to your High ness. King. Then shall we have a match. I have let ters sent me That set him high in fame. Enter BERTRAM. Laf. He looks well on 't. King. I am not a day of season, For thou may'st see a sunshine and a hail Ber. My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Ber. Admiringly, my liege. At first |