The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ PAROLLES.

       Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

       CLOWN. Foh, pr’ythee 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 similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship.

       [Exit.]

       PAROLLES.

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

       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 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.

       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.

       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 the 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.

       PAROLLES.

       I praise God for you.

       [Exeunt.]

      SCENE 3. The same. 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.

       COUNTESS.

       ‘Tis 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.

       LAFEU.

       This I must say,—

       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 him hither;—

       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 do we bury

       Th’ incensing relics of it; let him approach,

       A stranger, no offender; and inform him,

       So ‘tis our will he should.

       GENTLEMAN.

       I shall, my liege.

       [Exit Gentleman.]

       KING.

       What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?

       LAFEU.

       All that he is hath reference to your highness.

       KING.

       Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me

       That sets him high in fame.

       [Enter BERTRAM.]

       LAFEU.

       He looks well on ‘t.

       KING.

       I am not a day of season,

       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.

       BERTRAM.

       My high-repented blames,

       Dear sovereign, pardon to me.

       KING.

       All is whole;

       Not one word more of the consumed time.

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