All's Well That Ends Well · Act 4, Scene 5

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Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown
Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown
Lafeu

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.

Lafeu

No, no, no, your son was misled by a flashy little man Whose wicked yellowish color could have Turned all the youth in the country into his shade: Your daughter-in-law would still be alive right now, And your son here at home, more honored By the king than by that red-tailed fool I’m talking about.

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.

Countess

I wish I’d never known him; it was the death of the Most virtuous lady nature ever praised for creating. If she had been my daughter, and caused me the hardest pains A mother can feel, I could not have loved her more.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

She was a good woman, a good woman: we could pick a Thousand salads before we find another like her.

Clown

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

Clown

Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the Salad, or better yet, the herb of grace.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

They’re not plants, you idiot; they’re snuff (things you put in your nose).

Clown

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

Clown

I’m not some big important king, sir; I don’t know much about plants.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

What do you claim to be, an idiot or a fool?

Clown

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

Clown

A fool, sir, when it comes to serving a woman, and a dishonest man when it comes to serving a man.

Lafeu

Your distinction?

Lafeu

What’s the difference?

Clown

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

Clown

I’d cheat a man out of his wife and still do him favors.

Lafeu

So you were a knave at his service, indeed.

Lafeu

So you’re a dishonest man at his service, then.

Clown

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

Clown

And I would give his wife my little trinket, sir, to do her a favor.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

I’ll agree with you, you’re both a dishonest man and a fool.

Clown

At your service.

Clown

At your service.

Lafeu

No, no, no.

Lafeu

No, no, no.

Clown

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

Clown

Well, sir, if I can’t serve you, I can serve a prince as great as you.

Lafeu

Who’s that? a Frenchman?

Lafeu

Who’s that? A Frenchman?

Clown

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

Clown

Actually, sir, he has an English name; but his face looks much more fiery in France than over here.

Lafeu

What prince is that?

Lafeu

What prince is that?

Clown

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

Clown

The black prince, sir; also known as the prince of darkness; in other words, 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.

Lafeu

Here, take this, there’s my wallet: I’m not giving it to you to suggest that you’re talking bad about your master; just keep serving him.

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’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.

Clown

I’m a country man, sir, who’s always loved a big fire; and the master I’m talking about always keeps a good fire. But, surely, he’s the king of the world; let him stay in his court. I prefer the house with the small gate, which I think is too small for showy people to get in: some who humble themselves might; but most people will be too cold and weak, and they’ll prefer the fancy path that leads to the wide gate and the big fire.

Lafeu

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.

Lafeu

Go on, I’m starting to get tired of you; and I’m telling you this in advance, because I don’t want to argue with you. Go on: just make sure my horses are well taken care of, no funny business.

Clown

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

Clown

If I do anything funny to them, sir, it’ll be the tricks that lazy horses play; and they have that right by nature.

Exit
Exit
Lafeu

A shrewd knave and an unhappy.

Lafeu

A clever fool, and an unlucky one.

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.

Countess

He is. My lord who’s gone had a lot of fun with him: by his authority he stays here, which he thinks gives him the right to be rude; and, honestly, he has no manners, just does whatever he wants.

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?

Lafeu

I like him, actually; it’s not bad. And I was about to tell you, since I heard about the good lady’s death and that my lord your son was on his way home, I asked the king my master to speak on behalf of my daughter; which, when they were both young, his majesty, out of a kind memory, first proposed: his highness has promised me to do it: and, to get rid of the anger he’s had against your son, there’s no better way. How does your ladyship feel about it?

Countess

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

Countess

I’m very pleased, my lord; and I hope it goes well.

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.

Lafeu

His highness is coming straight from Marseilles, as healthy as when he was thirty: he’ll be here tomorrow, or I’m mistaken about him, as the one who’s rarely wrong in such matters.

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.

Countess

I’m glad, because I hope I’ll see him before I die. I have letters saying my son will be here tonight: I’ll ask your lordship to stay with me until they meet.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

Madam, I was thinking how I might be properly allowed in.

Countess

You need but plead your honourable privilege.

Countess

You only need to claim your rightful privilege.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

Lady, I’ve made that claim already; but I thank God it still holds.

Re-enter Clown
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’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.

Clown

Oh madam, there’s my lord your son with a patch of velvet on his face: whether there’s a scar underneath it or not, the velvet knows; but it’s a nice patch of velvet: his left cheek is twice as big as the right, but his right cheek is completely worn down.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

A scar earned with honor, or a noble scar, is a good sign of respect; so this one probably is.

Clown

But it is your carbonadoed face.

Clown

But it’s your burned face.

Lafeu

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

Lafeu

Let’s go see your son, please: I’m eager to talk to 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.

Clown

Honestly, there are about a dozen of them, with fancy hats and elegant feathers, who bow their heads and nod at every person they meet.

Exuent
Exuent

End of Act 4, Scene 5

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