All's well that ends well: still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt. SCENE V-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipttaffata fellow there; whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: 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-tail'd 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. Laf. "Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads, ere we light on such another herb. Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the salad, or rather the herb of grace. Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs. Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, I have not much skill in grass. Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or a fool? Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. Laf. Your distinction? Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service. Laf. So you were a knave, at his service, indeed. Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. Laf. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool. Clo. At your service. Laf. No, no, no. Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. Laf. Who's that? a Frenchman? Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, than there. Laf. What prince is that? Clo. The black prince, sir, alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil. Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still. Clo. 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 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. Laf. 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. Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature. Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. [Exit. 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. Laf. 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 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. Laf. 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. Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might safely be admitted. Count. You need but plead your honourable privi lege. Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet. 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 carbonadoed 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. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE L-Marseilles. A Street. Enter Helena, Widand Diana, with two Attendants. ow, Helena. BUT this exceeding posting, day and night, Must wear your spirits low: we cannot help it; Be bold, you do so grow in my requital, This man may help me to his majesty's ear, Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 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. Hel. Not here, sir? Gent. The king's not here. Not, indeed: He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Than is his use. Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains! Hel. All's well that ends well; yet; Though time seems so adverse, and means unfit. I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon: Hel. 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. SCENE II.-Rousillon. [Exeunt. The inner Court of the Countess's Palace. Enter Clown and Parolles. Par. Good monsieur Lavateh, 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 speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind. Par. Nay, you need not 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 fish |