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Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee get thee further.

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh, prithee 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, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

[Exit. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 't is too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played 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.

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 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 sooth? 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.

SCENE III.-The same.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the Countess's

Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, Lords,
Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem
Was made much poorer by it: but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.

Count.

"T is past, my liege : And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,

O'erbears it, and burns on.

King.

My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;

Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.

This I must say,

Laf.
But first I beg my pardon,-The young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife
Whose beauty did astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive;
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd mistress.

King.

Praising what is lost,

Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call

ther;

We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition-Let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it; let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him
So 't is our will he should.

I shall, my liege.

him hi

Gent.
[Exit.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you

spoke?

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness. King. Then shall we have a match.

sent me

That set him high in fame.

I have letters

Laf.

Enter BERTRAM.

He looks well on 't.

King. I am not a day of season,

a

For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail

In me at once: But to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth,
The time is fair again.

Ber.

My high-repented blames,

All is whole;

Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
King.
Not one word more of the consumed time.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals, ere we can effect them: You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first

I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart

a A day of season-a seasonable day. Sunshine and hail mark a day out of season.

Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,

To a most hideous object: Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself
Since I have lost have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King.

Well excus'd:

That thou didst love her strikes, some scores away From the great compt: But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the great sender turns a sour offence,

Crying, That's good that 's gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what 's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we 'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.

Count. Which better than the first, O dear Heaven, bless!

Or, ere they meet in me, O nature cesse.

Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favour from you,

To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,

e.-By my old beard,

That she may quickly come.

And every hair that 's on 't, Helen, that 's dead,
Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this,
The last that ere I took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.

Ber.

Hers it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to it.— This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token

I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most?

My gracious sovereign,

Ber.
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.

Count.

Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.

Laf.

I am sure I saw her wear it. Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it : In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain`d the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingag'd: but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King.

Plutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,

Than I have in this ring: 't was mine, 't was Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: Then, if you know

That you are well acquainted with yourself,

Confess 't was hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,

a Ingag'd. We think that the lady is represented by Bertram to have considered him “ingag'd"-pledged-to herself.

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