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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.

Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet.

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Re-enter Clown, 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. [Ereunt.

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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 occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.
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. Alls well that ends well, yet;
Though time seem so advérse, 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 bis 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, Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again; Go, go, provide. "

[Ereunt.

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ROUSILLON.

THE INNER COURT OF THE
COUNTESS'S PALACE.

Enter Clown, and Parolles. Par. Good monsieur 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, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strong 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.

Clo. 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.

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. 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, decay'd, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship

[Erit Clown. 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.

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'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, i

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.

Laf. Was I, in soothi 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, 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. Par. I praise God for you.

[Eréunt.

H

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