Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I thank my God it holds yet. 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't 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. Count. A fcar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour. So belike is that. Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face. Laf. Let us go fee your fon, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble foldier. 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. [Exeunt. ACT A CT V. SCENE I The Court of France. Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two attendants. B HELENA. UT this exceeding pofting day and night Be bold, you do so grow in my requital This man may help me to his Majesty's ear, Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Hel. I do prefume, Sir, that you are not fallen Gent. What's your will? Hel. That it will please you To give this poor petition to the King, And aid me with that ftore of power you have, To come into his prefence. : Gent. Gent. The King's not here. Hel. Not here, Sir? Gent. Not indeed. He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! Hel. All's well that ends well yet, Tho' time seem so adverse, and means unfit: Hel. I beseech you, Sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Hel. And you fhall find your self to be well thank'd, What-e'er falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. Par. SCENE II. ROUSILLO N. Enter Clown and Parolles. I OOD Mr. Levatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter; have ere now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher cloaths; but I am now, Sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her ftrong displeasure. Clo. Clo. Truly fortune's displeasure is but fluttish, if it smell fo ftrongly 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 ftop your nofe, Sir; I fpake but by a metaphor. Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose 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 closeftool, to give to a nobleman! look here he comes himself. Enter Lafeu. Clo. Here is a pur of fortune's, Sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a muscat;) that hath fall'n into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he fays, is muddied withal. Pray you, Sir, use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rafcally knave. I do pity his distress fmiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly fcratch'd. in my Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you play'd the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of her self 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 fingle word. Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you fhall ha't, fave your word. Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox my paffion, give me your hand: how does your drum? Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me. Laf. for Laf. Was I, infooth? and I was the first that loft thee. Par. It lyes in you, my lord, to bring me in fome grace, 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. The King's coming, I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talk of you last night; tho' you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. Flourish. Enter King, Countefs, Lafeu, the two French Lords, with attendants. King. We loft a jewel of her, our esteem Was made much poorer by it; but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her eftimation home. Count. 'Tis past, my Liege; And I beseech your Majefty to make it King. My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Tho' my revenges were high bent upon him, Laf. This I must say, But first I beg my pardon; the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; The greatest wrong of all. but to himself He loft a wife, Whose |