Lafeu.

No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipttaffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbak'd and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour; and your son here at home more advanc'd by the king.

Count.

I would, I had not known him! it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating; if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.

Laf.

'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand sallets ere we light on such another herb.

Clo.

Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjorum of the sallet, or rather the herb of grace.

Laf.

Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?

Clo.

A fool, sir, at a woman's service; and a knave at a man's.

Laf.

I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.

Clo.

At your service.

Laf.

No, no, no,

Clo.

Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are.

Laf.

What prince is that?

Clo.

The black prince, sir, alias the prince of darkness, alias Monsieur Belzebub.

Laf.

Hold thee, there's my purse; I give thee not this to seduce thee from the master thou talk'st of, serve him still. Go thy ways, let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks.

Clo.

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

Laf.

A shrewd knave. 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 mov'd 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 conceiv'd 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 a body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here, to-morrow, or I am deceived.

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.

Clo.

O madam, yonders my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face; whether there be a scar under't, or no, the velvet knows.

Count.

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

Laf.

Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long 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.

Enter Parolles.

Par.

Good Mr. Levatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter; I 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 moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo.

Truly, fortune's displeasure is but fluttish, 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 stop your nose, sir; I spake 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 close stool, to give to a nobleman! look, here he comes himself.* ^note

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or fortune's cat, (but not a musk cat;) that hath fall'n 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 similies of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

Par.

My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd.

Laf.

And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. There's something for you; let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.

Par.

My name, my good lord, is Parolles.

Laf.

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.

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 heav'n for you.