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against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?
Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected.
Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.
Count. 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.
Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might safely be admitted.
Count. You need but plead, your honorable privilege.
Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.
Re-enter Clown. Clo. 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.
Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honor ; so, belike, is that.
Clo. But it is your carbonadoed' face.
to talk with
the young, noble soldier. Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate, fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at every man.
i Carbonadoed is “slashed over the face in a manner that fetcheth the flesh with it,” metaphorically from a carbonado or collop of meat.
SCENE I. Marseilles. A Street.
Enter HELENA, Widow, and Diana, with two Attend
Hel. 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 affa Be bold, you do so grow in my requital, As nothing can unroot you. În happy time ;
Enter a gentle Astringer.
Gent. And you.
Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
Gent. The king's not here.
Not here, sir ?
Not, indeed :
your will ?
1 i. e. a gentleman falconer, called in Juliana Barnes's Book of Huntyng, &c. Ostreger. The term is applied particularly to those that keep goshawks.
He hence removed last night, and with more haste
Lord, how we lose our pains !
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ;
I do beseech you, sir,
This I'll do for you. Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thanked, Whate'er falls more.—We must to horse again ;Go, go, provide.
Rousillon. The inner Court of the
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 strong as thou speakest of: I will hence
1 i. e. “ they will follow with such speed as the means which they have will give them ability to exert.”
2 Perhaps a corruption of La Vache.
3 Warburton changed mood, the reading of the old copy, to moat, and was followed and defended by Steevens; but the emendation appears unnecessary. Fortune's mood is several times used by Shakspeare for the whimsical caprice of fortune.
forth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr’ythee, allow the wind."
Par. Nay, you need not 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 further.
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 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 smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown.
Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.
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 honor 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.
Laf. You beg more than one word then.—Cox' my passion! give me your hand.—How does your drum?
1 i. e. stand to the leeward of me. 2 Warburton says we should read, “similes of comfort,” such as calling him fortune's cat, carp, &c.
3 A quibble is intended on the word Parolles, which, in French, signifies words.
Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found
Laf. Was 1, 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 further after me: ] 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.
SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Countess's
Enter King, Countess, LaFeu, Lords, Gentlemen,
'Tis past, my liege:
My honored lady,
forgiven and forgotten all ;
This I must say,
1 i. e. in losing her we lost a large portion of our esteem, which she possessed.
2 Completely, in its full extent.
VOL. II. 55