SCENE V. Rousillon. A room in the Countess's palace. Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN. La. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron1 would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his color: 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-tailed 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. La. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such another herb. Clown. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the salad, or, rather the herb of grace.2 La. They are not salad-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. Clown. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. In allusion to the fashion of using yellow starch for the 1ands and ruffs. 2 Rue. La. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or a fool? Clown. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. La. Your distinction? Clown. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service. La. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clown. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. La. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. Clown. At your service. La. No, no, no. Clown. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. La. Who's that? a Frenchman ? Clown. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France than there. La. What prince is that? Clown. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil. 1 La. Hold thee; there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest 1 thee from thy master thou talkest of: serve him still. Clown. 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 ■ Tempt. the world; let his nobility remain in his court. I am 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. La. 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 looked to, without any tricks. Clown. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit. La. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.1 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. La. 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 Mischievously unhappy, waggish. 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. La. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. 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. : La. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might safely be admitted. Count. You need but plead your honorable privilege. La. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet. Re-enter CLOWN. Clown. 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. La. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honor: so, belike, is that. Clown. But it is your carbonadoed face.1 La. Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier. 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, Enter a gentle Astringer.1 This man may help me to his majesty's ear, Scotched like a piece of meat for the gridiron. 2 A gentleman falconer. |