The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
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sir.
GENTLEMAN.
And you.
HELENA.
Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
GENTLEMAN.
I have been sometimes there.
HELENA.
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.
GENTLEMAN.
What’s your will?
HELENA.
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.
GENTLEMAN.
The king’s not here.
HELENA.
Not here, sir?
GENTLEMAN.
Not indeed.
He hence remov’d last night, and with more haste
Than is his use.
WIDOW.
Lord, how we lose our pains!
HELENA.
All’s well that ends well yet,
Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
GENTLEMAN.
Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.
HELENA.
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.
GENTLEMAN.
This I’ll do for you.
HELENA.
And you shall find yourself to be well thank’d,
Whate’er falls more.—We must to horse again;—
Go, go, provide.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 2. Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNTESS’S palace.
[Enter CLOWN and PAROLLES.]
PAROLLES. Good Monsieur Lavache, 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, muddied 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.
PAROLLES. 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.
PAROLLES.
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.
[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 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 similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.
[Exit.]
PAROLLES.
My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.
LAFEU. 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? There’s a quart d’ecu for you: let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business.
PAROLLES.
I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.
LAFEU. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha’t: save your word.
PAROLLES.
My name, my good lord, is Parolles.
LAFEU. You beg more than word then.—Cox’ my passion! give me your hand:—how does your drum?
PAROLLES.
O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
LAFEU.
Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.
PAROLLES. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.
LAFEU. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings the in grace, and the other brings thee out.
[Trumpets sound.]
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.
PAROLLES.
I praise God for you.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 3. The same. A room in the COUNTESS’S palace.
[Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c.]
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.
COUNTESS.
‘Tis past, my liege:
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i’ the blaze 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.
LAFEU.
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: he lost a wife
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn’d to serve
Humbly call’d mistress.