Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee further
Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper
Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes
close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he
comes himselfe.
Enter Lafew.
Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort, and leaue him to your Lordship
Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd
Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other businesse
Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single
word,
Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall
ha't, saue your word
Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles
Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion,
giue me your hand: How does your drumme?
Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found
mee
Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee