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Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us:
All's well that ends well: still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
ROUSILLON. A ROOM IN THE COUNTESS'S PALACE.
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata fellow there; whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked 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 advanced by the king, than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I speak of.
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 sallads, ere we light on such another herb.
Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallad, or, rather the herb of grace.
Laf. They are not sallad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.
Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass.
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. Your distinction?
Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.
Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.
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. Who's that? a Frenchman?
Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there. Laf. What prince is that?
Clo. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil.
Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st
serve him still.
Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of, ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world, let his nobility remain in his court. for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble themselves, may; but the many will be too chill
and tender; and they'll be for the flowery way, that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.
Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks.
Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature.
Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.
Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will.
Laf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss: and 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 moved 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 conceived 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 body as when he number'd thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd.
Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him
ere I die. I have letters, that my son will be here to-night I shall beseech your lordship, to remain with me till they meet together.
Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might safely be admitted.
Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege.
Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.
Clo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under it, 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. Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour: so, belike, is that. Clo. But it is your carbonado'd face.
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.
ACT V. SCENE I.
MARSEILLES. A STREET.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with two
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,
Enter a gentle Astringer.
This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not fallen From the report that goes upon your goodness; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful.
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.