Act IV. Scene 5.
Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace
Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN
LAFEU. No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow
there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the
and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your
had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more
advanc'd by the King than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I
COUNTESS. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the
virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for
she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans
mother. I could not have owed her a more rooted love.
LAFEU. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a
sallets ere we light on such another herb.
CLOWN. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallet,
rather, the herb of grace.
LAFEU. They are not sallet-herbs, you knave; they are
CLOWN. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill
LAFEU. Whether dost thou profess thyself-a knave or a fool?
CLOWN. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a
LAFEU. Your distinction?
CLOWN. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.
LAFEU. So you were a knave at his service, indeed.
CLOWN. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her
LAFEU. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool.
CLOWN. At your service.
LAFEU. No, no, no.
CLOWN. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a
prince as you are.
LAFEU. Who's that? A Frenchman?
CLOWN. Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is
hotter in France than there.
LAFEU. What prince is that?
CLOWN. The Black Prince, sir; alias, the Prince of Darkness;
LAFEU. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to
thee from thy master thou talk'st of; serve him still.
CLOWN. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great
and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure,
is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's
am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too
little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may;
the many will be too chill and tender: and they'll be for the
flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.
LAFEU. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell
so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy
let my horses be well look'd 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.
LAFEU. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.
COUNTESS. So 'a is. My lord that's gone made himself much
out of him. By his authority he remains here, which he thinks
a patent for his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but
where he will.
LAFEU. 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
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 promis'd me to do it; and,
stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son,
is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it?
COUNTESS. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it
LAFEU. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body
when he number'd thirty; 'a will be here to-morrow, or I am
deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd.
COUNTESS. 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
your lordship to remain with me tal they meet together.
LAFEU. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely
COUNTESS. You need but plead your honourable privilege.
LAFEU. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank
God, it holds yet.
CLOWN. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of
on's face; whether there be a scar under 't 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
LAFEU. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv'ry of
honour; so belike is that.
CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face.
LAFEU. 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,
most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every