Parolles following.
Par.
Good Mr. Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter:
-- 87 --
I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when
I have held familiarity with fresher cloaths; but I am
now, sir, muddy'd in fortune's moat, note14Q0421 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 buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the
wind.
Par.
Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake note
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-stool14Q0422 to give to a nobleman! Look, here
Enter Lafeu.
he comes himself.—Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or
of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat) that has fallen
into the unclean fish-pond of her displeasure, and, as he
says, is muddy'd withal: Pray you, sir, use the carp as
you may; for he looks like a poor, decay'd, ingenious,
foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similies
of comfort note, and leave him to your lordship.
[Exit Clown.
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. 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 note? There's a &dagger2; quart-d'ecu
-- 88 --
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.
Laf.
You beg more than word then.—Cox' 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, insooth? and I was the first that lost thee.
Par.
It lies on you note, 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.—
[Trumpet.] 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.
Par.
I praise God for you.
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
