COUNTESS.
Marry, that’s a bountiful answer that fits all questions.
CLOWN. It is like a barber’s chair, that fits all buttocks—the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.
COUNTESS.
Will your answer serve fit to all questions?
CLOWN. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffety punk, as Tib’s rush for Tom’s forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for Mayday, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun’s lip to the friar’s mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin.
COUNTESS.
Have you, I, say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
CLOWN. From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
COUNTESS. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands.
CLOWN. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to’t. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn.
COUNTESS. To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier?
CLOWN. O Lord, sir!—There’s a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them.
COUNTESS.
Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.
CLOWN.
O Lord, sir!—Thick, thick; spare not me.
COUNTESS.
I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
CLOWN.
O Lord, sir!—Nay, put me to’t, I warrant you.
COUNTESS.
You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
CLOWN.
O Lord, sir!—Spare not me.
COUNTESS.
Do you cry ‘O Lord, sir!’ at your whipping, and ‘spare not me’?
Indeed your ‘O Lord, sir!’ is very sequent to your whipping. You
would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to’t.
CLOWN. I ne’er had worse luck in my life in my—‘O Lord, sir!’ I see thing’s may serve long, but not serve ever.
COUNTESS. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.
CLOWN.
O Lord, sir!—Why, there’t serves well again.
COUNTESS.
An end, sir! To your business. Give Helen this,
And urge her to a present answer back:
Commend me to my kinsmen and my son:
This is not much.
CLOWN.
Not much commendation to them.
COUNTESS.
Not much employment for you: you understand me?
CLOWN.
Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs.
COUNTESS.
Haste you again.
[Exeunt severally.]
SCENE 3. Paris. The KING’S palace.
[Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.]
LAFEU. They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
PAROLLES. Why, ‘tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times.
BERTRAM.
And so ‘tis.
LAFEU.
To be relinquish’d of the artists,—
PAROLLES.
So I say; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
LAFEU.
Of all the learned and authentic fellows,—
PAROLLES.
Right; so I say.
LAFEU.
That gave him out incurable,—
PAROLLES.
Why, there ‘tis; so say I too.
LAFEU.
Not to be helped,—
PAROLLES.
Right; as ‘twere a man assured of a,—
LAFEU.
Uncertain life and sure death.
PAROLLES.
Just; you say well: so would I have said.
LAFEU.
I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.
PAROLLES. It is indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in,—What do you call there?—
LAFEU.
A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.
PAROLLES.
That’s it; I would have said the very same.
LAFEU. Why, your dolphin is not lustier: ‘fore me, I speak in respect,—
PAROLLES. Nay, ‘tis strange, ‘tis very strange; that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he’s of a most facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the,—
LAFEU.
Very hand of heaven.
PAROLLES.
Ay; so I say.
LAFEU.
In a most weak,—
PAROLLES. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone the recov’ry of the king, as to be,—
LAFEU.
Generally thankful.
PAROLLES.
I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king.
[Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants.]
LAFEU.
Lustic, as the Dutchman says: I’ll like a maid the better, whilst
I have a tooth in my head: why, he’s able to lead her a coranto.
PAROLLES.
‘Mort du vinaigre!’ is not this Helen?
LAFEU.
‘Fore God, I think so.
KING.
Go, call before me all the lords in court.—
[Exit an Attendant.]
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient’s side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banish’d sense
Thou has repeal’d, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promis’d gift,
Which but attends thy naming.
[Enter severaol Lords.]
Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O’er whom both sovereign