| ACT V SCENE II | Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace. | |
| | Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following | |
| PAROLLES | Good Monsieur Lavache, 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 | 5 |
| | mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong | |
| | displeasure. | |
| Clown | Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it | |
| | smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will | |
| | henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. | 10 |
| | Prithee, allow the wind. | |
| PAROLLES | Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake | |
| | but by a metaphor. | |
| Clown | Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my | |
| | nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get | 15 |
| | thee further. | |
| PAROLLES | Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. | |
| Clown | Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's | |
| | close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he | |
| | comes himself. | 20 |
| | Enter LAFEU | |
| | Here is a purr 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, | 25 |
| | ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his | |
| | distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to | |
| | your lordship. | |
| | Exit | |
| PAROLLES | My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly | |
| | scratched. | 30 |
| LAFEU | And what would you have me to do? 'Tis 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 | 35 |
| | you: let the justices make you and fortune friends: | |
| | I am for other business. | |
| PAROLLES | I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. | |
| LAFEU | You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; | |
| | save your word. | 40 |
| PAROLLES | My name, my good lord, is Parolles. | |
| LAFEU | You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion! | |
| | give me your hand. How does your drum? | |
| PAROLLES | O my good lord, you were the first that found me! | |
| LAFEU | Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. | 45 |
| PAROLLES | It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, | |
| | for you did bring me out. | |
| LAFEU | 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. | 50 |
| | 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. | |
| PAROLLES | I praise God for you. | 55 |
| | Exeunt | |
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