Clown. '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 V. SCENE I.

Marseilles. A Street.

Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants.

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 affairs,
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital,
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time;-

Enter a gentle Astringer.

This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
If he would spend his power.
God save you,

sir.

Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.

Gent, I have been sometimes there.

Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not

fallen

From the report that goes upon your goodness And therefore, goaded with most sharp occa sions,

Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

The use of your own virtuès, for the which
I shall continue thankfull.
Gent. What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you

To give this poor petition to the king;
And aid me with that store of power you have,
To come into his presence.

Gent. The king's not here.

Hel. Not here, sir?

Gent.

Not, indeed:

He hence remov'd last night, and with more

haste

"Than is his use.

Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well that ends, well, yet;
Though time-seem so adverse, and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.

Hel. I do beseech you, sir,

Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well

thank'd,

What-e'er falls more.-We must to horse again ;Go, go, provide. [Exeunt.]

SCENE II.

Rousillon. The inner Court of the Count's Palace.

Par.

Enter Clown and PAROLLES.

Good Mr. 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, muddy'd in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clown. 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 but by a metaphor.

Clown. 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. Clown. Foh! pr'ythee, stand away; A paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself,

1

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 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 smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown.]

Par. My lord, I am 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 herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'écu 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: does your drum?

How

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. 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, in

quire 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

SCENE

[Exeunt.]

I l I.

The same.

A Room in the Count's Palace.

Flourish. Enter King, Countefs, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, etc.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home.

Count 'Tis past, my liege:

And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'the blade of youth;

When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it, and burns on.

King. My honour'd lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all:

Though my revenges were high bent upon him, And watch'd the time to shoot.

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; but to himself The greatest wrong of all: be lost a wife, Whose beauty did astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took cap

tive;

Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to

serve,

Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear.

hither;

Well, call him

We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: Let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury

The incensing relicks of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.

Gent. I shall, my liege.

[Exit Gentleman.]

King. What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness.

King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me,

That set him high in fame.

Enter BERTRAM.

Laf. He looks well on't.