I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Hel. I do befeech you, Sir, Since you are like to fee the King before me, Gent. This I'll do for you. Hel. And you fhall find your felf to be well thank'd, what e'er falls more. We muft to Horfe again. Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. Enter Clown and Parolles. Par. Good Mr. Levátch, give my Lord Lafen this Letter; I have e'er 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 fomewhat ftrong of her strong Displeasure. Clo. Truly, Fortune's Difpleasure is but fluttish, if it fmell fo ftrongly as thou fpeak'ft of: I will henceforth eat no Fish of Fortune's butt'ring. Prethee, allow the Wind. Par. Nay, you need not to ftop your Nofe, Sir; I speak but a Metaphor. Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your Metaphor ftink, I will ftop my Nofe, or against any Man's Metaphor. Prethee get thee further. Par. Pray you, Sir, deliver me this Paper. Clo. Foh! prethee ftand away; a Paper from Fortune's Clofe-ftool, 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 fays, muddied withal. Pray you, Sir, ufe the Carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rafcally Knave. I do pity his Diftrefs in my Smiles of Comfort, and leave him to your Lordship. Z 4 Par. Par. My Lord, I am a Man whom Fortune hath cruelly fcratch'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 the should scratch you, who of her felf is a good Lady, and would not have Knaves thrive long under her? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Juftices make you and Fortune Friends; I am for other Bufinefs. Par. I beseech your Honour, to hear me one fingle word. Laf. You beg a fingle Penny more: Come, you shall ha't, fave your word. Par. My Name, my good Lord, is Parolles, Laf. You beg more than one word then. Cox my Paffion, give me your Hand: How does your Drum? me. Par. O my good Lord, you were the firft that found Laf, Was I, infooth? And I was the first that loft ther. Par. It lyes in you, my Lord, to bring me in fome Grace, for you did bring me out. Laf. Out upon the Knave, doft thou put upon me at once, both the Office of God and Devil; one brings thee in Grace, and the other brings thee out. The King's coming, I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, enquire further after me, I had talk of you laft Night; tho' you are a Fool and a Knave, you fhall eat, go to, follow. Par. I praife God for you. [Exeunt. Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, the two French Lords, with Attendants. King. We loft a Jewel of her and our Efteem Was made much poorer by it; but your Son, As mad in Folly, lack'd the Sense to know Count. 'Tis paft, my Liege; And I beseech your Majefty to make it Natural Rebellion, done i'th' blade of Youth, When Oil and Fire, too ftrong for Reafon's force, King. My honour'd Lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all, Tho' my Revenges were high bent upon him, And watch'd the time to fhoot. Laf. This I must say, But first I beg my pardon; the young Lord Did to his Majefty, his Mother, and his Lady, Whofe Beauty did aftonish the furvey Of richeft Eyes; whofe Words all Ears took captive; King. Praifing what is loft, Makes the Remembrance dear. Well-call him hither, Gent. I fhall, my Liege. King. What fays he to your Daughter? Have you spoke? Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highness. King. Then fhall we have a Match. I have Letters fent me, that fet him high in Fame. Enter Bertram. Laf. He looks well on't. King. I am not a Day of Season, For thou maist fee a Sun-fhine, and a Hail Ber. My high repented Blames, King. All is whole, Not one word more of the confumed Time, Fo Ber. He fhall be whipt through the Army with this Rime in his Forehead. 2 Ld. This is your devoted Friend, Sir, the manifold Linguift, and the Army-potent Soldier. Ber. I could endure any thing before, but a Cat, and he's a Cat to me. Int. I perceive, Sir, by the General's Looks, we shall be fain to hang you. Par. My Life, Sir, in any case; not that I am afraid to die, but that my Offences being many, I would repent out the Remainder of Nature. Let me live, Sir, in a Dungeon, i'th' Stocks, any where, fo I may live. Int. We'll fee what may be done, fo you confefs freely; therefore once more to this Captain Dumain: You have anfwer'd to his Reputation with the Duke, and to his Valour. What is his Honefty? Par. He will fteal, Sir, an Egg out of a Cloifter: For Rapes and Ravishments he parallels Neffus. He profeffes not keeping of Oaths; breaking them he is ftronger than Hercules. He will lie, Sir, with fuch volubility, that you would think Truth were a Fool: Drunkenness is his best Virtue, for he will be Swine-drunk, and in his Sleep he does little harm, fave to his Bed-cloaths about him; but they know his Conditions, and lay him in Straw. I have but little more to fay, Sir, of his Honefty, he has every thing that an honeft Man fhould not have; what an honeft Man fhould have, he has nothing. I Ld. I begin to love him for this. Ber. For this Defcription of thing Honesty? A Pox upon him for me, he's more and more a Cat. Int. What fay you to his Expertness in War. Par. Faith, Sir, h'as led the Drum before the English Tragedians: To belie him I will not, and more of his Soldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had the Honour to be the Officer at a Place there call'd Mile-end, to inftruct for the doubling of Files. I would do the Man what Honour I can, but of this I am not certain. I Ld. He hath out-villan'd Villany fo far, that the Rarity redeems him. Ber. A Pox on him, he's a Cat ftill. Int. His Qualities being at this poor Price, I need not to k you, if Gold will corrupt him to revolt. Par. Par. Sir, for a Cardecue he will fell the Fee-fimple of his Salvation, the Inheritance of it, and cut th' Intail from all Remainders, and perpetual Succeffion for it perpetually. Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain? 2 Ld. Why do's he ask him of me? Int. What's he? Par. E'en a Crow o'th' fame Neft; not altogether fo great as the firft in Goodness, but greater a great deal in Evil. He excells his Brother for a Coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a Retreat he out-runs any Lackey; marry in coming on he has the Cramp. Int. If your Life be faved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? Par. Ay, and the Captain of his Horfe, Count Roffillion. Int. I'll whisper with the General, and know his Pleafure. Par. I'll no more drumming, a Plague of all Drums, only to feem to deserve well, and to beguile the Suppofition of that lafcivious young Boy the Count, have I run into Danger; yet who would have fufpected an Ambush where I was taken? Int. There is no Remedy, Sir, but you must die; the General fays, you that have fo traiterously discovered the Secrets of your Army, and made fuch peftiferous Reports of Men very nobly held, can ferve the World for no ho neft Use; therefore you muft die. Come, Heads-man, off with his Head. Par. O Lord, Sir, let me live, or let me fee my Death. Int. That fhall you, and take your leave of all your Friends: [Unblinding him. So look about you; know you any here? Count, Good Morrow, noble Captain. 2 Ld. God bless you, Captain Parolles. 1 Ld. God fave you, noble Captain. 2 Ld. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. 1 Ld. Good Captain, will you give me a Copy of that fame Sonnet you writ to Diana in Behalf of the Count Roffillion, and I were not a very Coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. [Exeunt. Int. |