Act IV, Scene v:
Rousillon. A room in the COUNTESS'S palace.

[Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN.]

LAFEU:

No, no, no, 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-tail'd humble-bee I speak

of.

COUNTESS:

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.

LAFEU:

'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.

LAFEU:

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.

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 man's.

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 service.

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 phisnomy is more

hotter in France than there.

LAFEU:

What prince is that?

CLOWN:

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

the devil.

LAFEU:

Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest

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 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

flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

LAFEU:

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.]

LAFEU:

A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.

COUNTESS:

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.

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 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?

COUNTESS:

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

LAFEU:

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.

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 beseech

your lordship to remain with me till they meet together.

LAFEU:

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

admitted.

COUNTESS:

You need but plead your honourable privilege.

LAFEU:

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.

LAFEU:

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

belike is that.

CLOWN:

But it is your carbonadoed 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, and

most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.

[Exeunt.]