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    Act 4, Scene V

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    SCENE V. Rousillon. The COUNT's palace.

    Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown
    No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta
    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-tailed humble-bee I speak of.

    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.

    'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a
    thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.

    Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the
    salad, or rather, the herb of grace.

    They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs.

    I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much
    skill in grass.

    Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?

    A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.

    Your distinction?

    I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.

    So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

    And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service.

    I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool.

    At your service.

    No, no, no.

    Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as
    great a prince as you are.

    Who's that? a Frenchman?

    Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy
    is more hotter in France than there.

    What prince is that?

    The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of
    darkness; alias, the devil.

    Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this
    to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of;
    serve him still.

    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's 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.

    Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary 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.

    If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be
    jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature.


    A shrewd knave and an unhappy.

    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.

    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?

    With very much content, my lord; and I wish it
    happily effected.

    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.

    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.

    Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might
    safely be admitted.

    You need but plead your honourable privilege.

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

    Re-enter Clown

    O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of
    velvet 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 bare.

    A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery
    of honour; so belike is that.

    But it is your carbonadoed face.

    Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk
    with the young noble soldier.

    Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine
    hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head
    and nod at every man.

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