SCENE II.
Rousillon.
Enter Clown and 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 mood, and smell somewhat strong of
her strong displeasure.
-- 450 --
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
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.
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 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.
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 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 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?
Par.
O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
-- 451 --
Laf.
Was I, insooth? and I was the first that lost thee.
Par.
It lyes 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. 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.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
