Original Text
SCENE II. Rossillon. A room in the Countess's palace. Enter Countess and Clown.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding.
Original Text
CLOWN. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court.
Original Text
COUNTESS. To the court! Why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court!
Original Text
CLOWN. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions.
Original Text
CLOWN. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks—the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Will your answer serve fit to all questions?
Original Text
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 May-day, 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.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions?
Original Text
CLOWN. From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question.
Original Text
COUNTESS. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands.
Original Text
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.
Original Text
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?
Original Text
CLOWN. O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.
Original Text
CLOWN. O Lord, sir! Thick, thick; spare not me.
Original Text
COUNTESS. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
Original Text
CLOWN. O Lord, sir! Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.
Original Text
COUNTESS. You were lately whipp'd, sir, as I think.
Original Text
CLOWN. O Lord, sir! Spare not me.
Original Text
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.
Original Text
CLOWN. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever.
Original Text
COUNTESS. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain it so merrily with a fool.
Original Text
CLOWN. O Lord, sir! Why, there't serves well again.
Original Text
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.
Original Text
CLOWN. Not much commendation to them?
Original Text
COUNTESS. Not much employment for you. You understand me?
Original Text
CLOWN. Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs.
Original Text
COUNTESS. Haste you again. [_Exeunt severally._]