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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-31 01:09:13 -0700 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-31 01:09:13 -0700 |
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@@ -13,7 +13,7 @@ Title: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Author: William Shakespeare Release Date: January 1994 [eBook #100] -[Most recently updated: April 10, 2023] +[Most recently updated: April 22, 2023] Language: English @@ -14466,2792 +14466,4438 @@ High order in this great solemnity. AS YOU LIKE IT -DRAMATIS PERSONAE. - - DUKE, living in exile - FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions - AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke - JAQUES, " " " " " " - LE BEAU, a courtier attending upon Frederick - CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick - OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys - JAQUES, " " " " " " - ORLANDO, " " " " " " - ADAM, servant to Oliver - DENNIS, " " " - TOUCHSTONE, the court jester - SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar - CORIN, shepherd - SILVIUS, " - WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey - A person representing HYMEN - - ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke - CELIA, daughter to Frederick - PHEBE, a shepherdes - AUDREY, a country wench - - Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants - -SCENE: OLIVER'S house; FREDERICK'S court; and the Forest of Arden - -ACT I. SCENE I. Orchard of OLIVER'S house - -Enter ORLANDO and ADAM - - ORLANDO. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me - by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my - brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my - sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks - goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me rustically at home, - or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call - you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth that differs not from - the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that - they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and - to that end riders dearly hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing - under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are - as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so - plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his - countenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, - bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my - gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and - the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny - against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know - no wise remedy how to avoid it. - - Enter OLIVER - - ADAM. Yonder comes my master, your brother. - ORLANDO. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me - up. [ADAM retires] - OLIVER. Now, sir! what make you here? - ORLANDO. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing. - OLIVER. What mar you then, sir? - ORLANDO. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a - poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. - OLIVER. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile. - ORLANDO. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What - prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury? - OLIVER. Know you where you are, sir? - ORLANDO. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. - OLIVER. Know you before whom, sir? - ORLANDO. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are - my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you - should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better - in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not - away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as - much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming - before me is nearer to his reverence. - OLIVER. What, boy! [Strikes him] - ORLANDO. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. - OLIVER. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? - ORLANDO. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de - Boys. He was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such - a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not - take this hand from thy throat till this other had pull'd out thy - tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself. - ADAM. [Coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's - remembrance, be at accord. - OLIVER. Let me go, I say. - ORLANDO. I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father - charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have - train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all - gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in - me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such - exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor - allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy - my fortunes. - OLIVER. And what wilt thou do? Beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, - get you in. I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have - some part of your will. I pray you leave me. - ORLANDO. I no further offend you than becomes me for my good. - OLIVER. Get you with him, you old dog. - ADAM. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in - your service. God be with my old master! He would not have spoke - such a word. - Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM - OLIVER. Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic - your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, - Dennis! - - Enter DENNIS - - DENNIS. Calls your worship? - OLIVER. not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? - DENNIS. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access - to you. - OLIVER. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and - to-morrow the wrestling is. - - Enter CHARLES - - CHARLES. Good morrow to your worship. - OLIVER. Good Monsieur Charles! What's the new news at the new - court? - CHARLES. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that - is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; - and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary - exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; - therefore he gives them good leave to wander. - OLIVER. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished - with her father? - CHARLES. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, - being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have - followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at - the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own - daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. - OLIVER. Where will the old Duke live? - CHARLES. They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many - merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood - of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, - and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. - OLIVER. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? - CHARLES. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a - matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger - brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against - me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he - that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. - Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would - be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come - in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint - you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, - or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is - thing of his own search and altogether against my will. - OLIVER. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt - find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my - brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to - dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, - Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of - ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret - and villainous contriver against me his natural brother. - Therefore use thy discretion: I had as lief thou didst break his - neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou - dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace - himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap - thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he - hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I - assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one - so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly - of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush - and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. - CHARLES. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come - to-morrow I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again, - I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship! - Exit - OLIVER. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I - hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, - hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd and - yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly - beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and - especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am - altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler - shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy - thither, which now I'll go about. Exit - -SCENE II. A lawn before the DUKE'S palace - -Enter ROSALIND and CELIA - - CELIA. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. - ROSALIND. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and - would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget - a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any - extraordinary pleasure. - CELIA. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I - love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy - uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I - could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst - thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd - as mine is to thee. - ROSALIND. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to - rejoice in yours. - CELIA. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to - have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what - he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee - again in affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that - oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear - Rose, be merry. - ROSALIND. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. - Let me see; what think you of falling in love? - CELIA. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man - in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety - of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. - ROSALIND. What shall be our sport, then? - CELIA. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her - wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. - ROSALIND. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily - misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her - gifts to women. - CELIA. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes - honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very - ill-favouredly. - ROSALIND. Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's: - Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of - Nature. - - Enter TOUCHSTONE - - CELIA. No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by - Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to - flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off - the argument? - ROSALIND. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when - Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit. - CELIA. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but - Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of - such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for - always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How - now, wit! Whither wander you? - TOUCHSTONE. Mistress, you must come away to your father. - CELIA. Were you made the messenger? - TOUCHSTONE. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. - ROSALIND. Where learned you that oath, fool? - TOUCHSTONE. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were - good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught. - Now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard - was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. - CELIA. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? - ROSALIND. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. - TOUCHSTONE. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear - by your beards that I am a knave. - CELIA. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. - TOUCHSTONE. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you - swear by that that not, you are not forsworn; no more was this - knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he - had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or - that mustard. - CELIA. Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st? - TOUCHSTONE. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. - CELIA. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough, speak no - more of him; you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days. - TOUCHSTONE. The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise - men do foolishly. - CELIA. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that - fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have - makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. - - Enter LE BEAU - - ROSALIND. With his mouth full of news. - CELIA. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. - ROSALIND. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. - CELIA. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, - Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news? - LE BEAU. Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport. - CELIA. Sport! of what colour? - LE BEAU. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? - ROSALIND. As wit and fortune will. - TOUCHSTONE. Or as the Destinies decrees. - CELIA. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. - TOUCHSTONE. Nay, if I keep not my rank- - ROSALIND. Thou losest thy old smell. - LE BEAU. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good - wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. - ROSALIND. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. - LE BEAU. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your - ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and - here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. - CELIA. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. - LE BEAU. There comes an old man and his three sons- - CELIA. I could match this beginning with an old tale. - LE BEAU. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. - ROSALIND. With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by - these presents'- - LE BEAU. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's - wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of - his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him. So he serv'd - the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, - their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the - beholders take his part with weeping. - ROSALIND. Alas! - TOUCHSTONE. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have - lost? - LE BEAU. Why, this that I speak of. - TOUCHSTONE. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time - that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. - CELIA. Or I, I promise thee. - ROSALIND. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in - his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we - see this wrestling, cousin? - LE BEAU. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place - appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. - CELIA. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. - - Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, ORLANDO, - CHARLES, and ATTENDANTS - - FREDERICK. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own - peril on his forwardness. - ROSALIND. Is yonder the man? - LE BEAU. Even he, madam. - CELIA. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully. - FREDERICK. How now, daughter and cousin! Are you crept hither to - see the wrestling? - ROSALIND. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. - FREDERICK. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, - there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger's youth - I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to - him, ladies; see if you can move him. - CELIA. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. - FREDERICK. Do so; I'll not be by. - [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart] - LE BEAU. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you. - ORLANDO. I attend them with all respect and duty. - ROSALIND. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? - ORLANDO. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I come - but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. - CELIA. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. - You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength; if you saw - yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the - fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal - enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own - safety and give over this attempt. - ROSALIND. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be - misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the - wrestling might not go forward. - ORLANDO. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, - wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent - ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go - with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one - sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is - willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none - to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only - in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when - I have made it empty. - ROSALIND. The little strength that I have, I would it were with - you. - CELIA. And mine to eke out hers. - ROSALIND. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you! - CELIA. Your heart's desires be with you! - CHARLES. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to - lie with his mother earth? - ORLANDO. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. - FREDERICK. You shall try but one fall. - CHARLES. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a - second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. - ORLANDO. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me - before; but come your ways. - ROSALIND. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! - CELIA. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the - leg. [They wrestle] - ROSALIND. O excellent young man! - CELIA. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should - down. - [CHARLES is thrown. Shout] - FREDERICK. No more, no more. - ORLANDO. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd. - FREDERICK. How dost thou, Charles? - LE BEAU. He cannot speak, my lord. - FREDERICK. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? - ORLANDO. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de - Boys. - FREDERICK. I would thou hadst been son to some man else. - The world esteem'd thy father honourable, - But I did find him still mine enemy. - Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, - Hadst thou descended from another house. - But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; - I would thou hadst told me of another father. - Exeunt DUKE, train, and LE BEAU - CELIA. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? - ORLANDO. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, - His youngest son- and would not change that calling - To be adopted heir to Frederick. - ROSALIND. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, - And all the world was of my father's mind; - Had I before known this young man his son, - I should have given him tears unto entreaties - Ere he should thus have ventur'd. - CELIA. Gentle cousin, - Let us go thank him, and encourage him; - My father's rough and envious disposition - Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd; - If you do keep your promises in love - But justly as you have exceeded all promise, - Your mistress shall be happy. - ROSALIND. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck] - Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune, - That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. - Shall we go, coz? - CELIA. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. - ORLANDO. Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts - Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up - Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. - ROSALIND. He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes; - I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? - Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown - More than your enemies. - CELIA. Will you go, coz? - ROSALIND. Have with you. Fare you well. - Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA - ORLANDO. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? - I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. - O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! - Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. - - Re-enter LE BEAU - - LE BEAU. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you - To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd - High commendation, true applause, and love, - Yet such is now the Duke's condition - That he misconstrues all that you have done. - The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed, - More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. - ORLANDO. I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this: - Which of the two was daughter of the Duke - That here was at the wrestling? - LE BEAU. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; - But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter; - The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, - And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, - To keep his daughter company; whose loves - Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. - But I can tell you that of late this Duke - Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, - Grounded upon no other argument - But that the people praise her for her virtues - And pity her for her good father's sake; - And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady - Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well. - Hereafter, in a better world than this, - I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. - ORLANDO. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well. - Exit LE BEAU - Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; - From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother. - But heavenly Rosalind! Exit - -SCENE III. The DUKE's palace - -Enter CELIA and ROSALIND - - CELIA. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! - Not a word? - ROSALIND. Not one to throw at a dog. - CELIA. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; - throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. - ROSALIND. Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should - be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any. - CELIA. But is all this for your father? - ROSALIND. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of - briers is this working-day world! - CELIA. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday - foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats - will catch them. - ROSALIND. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my - heart. - CELIA. Hem them away. - ROSALIND. I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. - CELIA. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. - ROSALIND. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. - CELIA. O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of - a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in - good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall - into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? - ROSALIND. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly. - CELIA. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? - By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his - father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. - ROSALIND. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. - CELIA. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? - - Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS - - ROSALIND. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I - do. Look, here comes the Duke. - CELIA. With his eyes full of anger. - FREDERICK. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, - And get you from our court. - ROSALIND. Me, uncle? - FREDERICK. You, cousin. - Within these ten days if that thou beest found - So near our public court as twenty miles, - Thou diest for it. - ROSALIND. I do beseech your Grace, - Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. - If with myself I hold intelligence, - Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; - If that I do not dream, or be not frantic- - As I do trust I am not- then, dear uncle, - Never so much as in a thought unborn - Did I offend your Highness. - FREDERICK. Thus do all traitors; - If their purgation did consist in words, - They are as innocent as grace itself. - Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. - ROSALIND. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. - Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. - FREDERICK. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. - ROSALIND. SO was I when your Highness took his dukedom; - So was I when your Highness banish'd him. - Treason is not inherited, my lord; - Or, if we did derive it from our friends, - What's that to me? My father was no traitor. - Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much - To think my poverty is treacherous. - CELIA. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. - FREDERICK. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, - Else had she with her father rang'd along. - CELIA. I did not then entreat to have her stay; - It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; - I was too young that time to value her, - But now I know her. If she be a traitor, - Why so am I: we still have slept together, - Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; - And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, - Still we went coupled and inseparable. - FREDERICK. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, - Her very silence and her patience, - Speak to the people, and they pity her. - Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name; - And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous - When she is gone. Then open not thy lips. - Firm and irrevocable is my doom - Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. - CELIA. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege; - I cannot live out of her company. - FREDERICK. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself. - If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, - And in the greatness of my word, you die. - Exeunt DUKE and LORDS - CELIA. O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go? - Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. - I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am. - ROSALIND. I have more cause. - CELIA. Thou hast not, cousin. - Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke - Hath banish'd me, his daughter? - ROSALIND. That he hath not. - CELIA. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love - Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. - Shall we be sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl? - No; let my father seek another heir. - Therefore devise with me how we may fly, - Whither to go, and what to bear with us; - And do not seek to take your charge upon you, - To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; - For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, - Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. - ROSALIND. Why, whither shall we go? - CELIA. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden. - ROSALIND. Alas, what danger will it be to us, - Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! - Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. - CELIA. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, - And with a kind of umber smirch my face; - The like do you; so shall we pass along, - And never stir assailants. - ROSALIND. Were it not better, - Because that I am more than common tall, - That I did suit me all points like a man? - A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, - A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart - Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will- - We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, - As many other mannish cowards have - That do outface it with their semblances. - CELIA. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? - ROSALIND. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, - And therefore look you call me Ganymede. - But what will you be call'd? - CELIA. Something that hath a reference to my state: - No longer Celia, but Aliena. - ROSALIND. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal - The clownish fool out of your father's court? - Would he not be a comfort to our travel? - CELIA. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; - Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, - And get our jewels and our wealth together; - Devise the fittest time and safest way - To hide us from pursuit that will be made - After my flight. Now go we in content - To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt - -ACT II. SCENE I. The Forest of Arden - -Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS, like foresters - - DUKE SENIOR. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet - Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods - More free from peril than the envious court? - Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, - The seasons' difference; as the icy fang - And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, - Which when it bites and blows upon my body, - Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say - 'This is no flattery; these are counsellors - That feelingly persuade me what I am.' - Sweet are the uses of adversity, - Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, - Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in everything. - I would not change it. - AMIENS. Happy is your Grace, - That can translate the stubbornness of fortune - Into so quiet and so sweet a style. - DUKE SENIOR. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? - And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, - Being native burghers of this desert city, - Should, in their own confines, with forked heads - Have their round haunches gor'd. - FIRST LORD. Indeed, my lord, - The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; - And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp - Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. - To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself - Did steal behind him as he lay along - Under an oak whose antique root peeps out - Upon the brook that brawls along this wood! - To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, - That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, - Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, - The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans - That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat - Almost to bursting; and the big round tears - Cours'd one another down his innocent nose - In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, - Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, - Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, - Augmenting it with tears. - DUKE SENIOR. But what said Jaques? - Did he not moralize this spectacle? - FIRST LORD. O, yes, into a thousand similes. - First, for his weeping into the needless stream: - 'Poor deer,' quoth he 'thou mak'st a testament - As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more - To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone, - Left and abandoned of his velvet friends: - ''Tis right'; quoth he 'thus misery doth part - The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd, - Full of the pasture, jumps along by him - And never stays to greet him. 'Ay,' quoth Jaques - 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; - 'Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look - Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' - Thus most invectively he pierceth through - The body of the country, city, court, - Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we - Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, - To fright the animals, and to kill them up - In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. - DUKE SENIOR. And did you leave him in this contemplation? - SECOND LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting - Upon the sobbing deer. - DUKE SENIOR. Show me the place; - I love to cope him in these sullen fits, - For then he's full of matter. - FIRST LORD. I'll bring you to him straight. Exeunt - -SCENE II. The DUKE'S palace - -Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS - - FREDERICK. Can it be possible that no man saw them? - It cannot be; some villains of my court - Are of consent and sufferance in this. - FIRST LORD. I cannot hear of any that did see her. - The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, - Saw her abed, and in the morning early - They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. - SECOND LORD. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft - Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. - Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman, - Confesses that she secretly o'erheard - Your daughter and her cousin much commend - The parts and graces of the wrestler - That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; - And she believes, wherever they are gone, - That youth is surely in their company. - FREDERICK. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither. - If he be absent, bring his brother to me; - I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly; - And let not search and inquisition quail - To bring again these foolish runaways. Exeunt - -SCENE III. Before OLIVER'S house - -Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting - - ORLANDO. Who's there? - ADAM. What, my young master? O my gentle master! - O my sweet master! O you memory - Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here? - Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? - And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? - Why would you be so fond to overcome - The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke? - Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. - Know you not, master, to some kind of men - Their graces serve them but as enemies? - No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master, - Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. - O, what a world is this, when what is comely - Envenoms him that bears it! - ORLANDO. Why, what's the matter? - ADAM. O unhappy youth! - Come not within these doors; within this roof - The enemy of all your graces lives. - Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son- - Yet not the son; I will not call him son - Of him I was about to call his father- - Hath heard your praises; and this night he means - To burn the lodging where you use to lie, - And you within it. If he fail of that, - He will have other means to cut you off; - I overheard him and his practices. - This is no place; this house is but a butchery; - Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. - ORLANDO. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? - ADAM. No matter whither, so you come not here. - ORLANDO. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food, - Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce - A thievish living on the common road? - This I must do, or know not what to do; - Yet this I will not do, do how I can. - I rather will subject me to the malice - Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. - ADAM. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, - The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, - Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, - When service should in my old limbs lie lame, - And unregarded age in corners thrown. - Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, - Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, - Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; - All this I give you. Let me be your servant; - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; - For in my youth I never did apply - Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, - Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo - The means of weakness and debility; - Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, - Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; - I'll do the service of a younger man - In all your business and necessities. - ORLANDO. O good old man, how well in thee appears - The constant service of the antique world, - When service sweat for duty, not for meed! - Thou art not for the fashion of these times, - Where none will sweat but for promotion, - And having that do choke their service up - Even with the having; it is not so with thee. - But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree - That cannot so much as a blossom yield - In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. - But come thy ways, we'll go along together, - And ere we have thy youthful wages spent - We'll light upon some settled low content. - ADAM. Master, go on; and I will follow the - To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. - From seventeen years till now almost four-score - Here lived I, but now live here no more. - At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, - But at fourscore it is too late a week; - Yet fortune cannot recompense me better - Than to die well and not my master's debtor. Exeunt + + +Contents + + ACT I + Scene I. An Orchard near Oliver’s house + Scene II. A Lawn before the Duke’s Palace + Scene III. A Room in the Palace + + ACT II + Scene I. The Forest of Arden + Scene II. A Room in the Palace + Scene III. Before Oliver’s House + Scene IV. The Forest of Arden + Scene V. Another part of the Forest + Scene VI. Another part of the Forest + Scene VII. Another part of the Forest + + ACT III + Scene I. A Room in the Palace + Scene II. The Forest of Arden + Scene III. Another part of the Forest + Scene IV. Another part of the Forest. Before a Cottage + Scene V. Another part of the Forest + + ACT IV + Scene I. The Forest of Arden + Scene II. Another part of the Forest + Scene III. Another part of the Forest + + ACT V + Scene I. The Forest of Arden + Scene II. Another part of the Forest + Scene III. Another part of the Forest + Scene IV. Another part of the Forest + Epilogue + + +Dramatis Personæ + +ORLANDO, youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys +OLIVER, eldest son of Sir Rowland de Boys +JAQUES DE BOYS, second son of Sir Rowland de Boys +ADAM, Servant to Oliver +DENNIS, Servant to Oliver + +ROSALIND, Daughter of Duke Senior +CELIA, Daughter of Duke Frederick +TOUCHSTONE, a Clown + +DUKE SENIOR (Ferdinand), living in exile + +JAQUES, Lord attending on the Duke Senior +AMIENS, Lord attending on the Duke Senior + +DUKE FREDERICK, Brother to the Duke, and Usurper of his Dominions +CHARLES, his Wrestler +LE BEAU, a Courtier attending upon Frederick + +CORIN, Shepherd +SILVIUS, Shepherd +PHOEBE, a Shepherdess +AUDREY, a Country Wench +WILLIAM, a Country Fellow, in love with Audrey +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a Vicar + +A person representing HYMEN + +Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Foresters, and other +Attendants. + +The scene lies first near Oliver’s house; afterwards partly in the +Usurper’s court and partly in the Forest of Arden. + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I. An Orchard near Oliver’s house + + +Enter Orlando and Adam. + +ORLANDO. +As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but +poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayst, charged my brother, on his +blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother +Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit. +For my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more +properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping, for +a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? +His horses are bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their +feeding, they are taught their manage and to that end riders dearly +hired; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth, for the +which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. +Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something +that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. He lets me +feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in +him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that +grieves me, and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, +begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, +though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. + +Enter Oliver. + +ADAM. +Yonder comes my master, your brother. + +ORLANDO. +Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. + +[_Adam retires._] + +OLIVER. +Now, sir, what make you here? + +ORLANDO. +Nothing. I am not taught to make anything. + +OLIVER. +What mar you then, sir? + +ORLANDO. +Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor +unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. + +OLIVER. +Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. + +ORLANDO. +Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion +have I spent that I should come to such penury? + +OLIVER. +Know you where you are, sir? + +ORLANDO. +O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. + +OLIVER. +Know you before whom, sir? + +ORLANDO. +Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest +brother, and in the gentle condition of blood you should so know me. +The courtesy of nations allows you my better in that you are the +first-born, but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there +twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me as you, +albeit I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. + +OLIVER. +What, boy! + +ORLANDO. +Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. + +OLIVER. +Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? + +ORLANDO. +I am no villain. I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was +my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot +villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy +throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so. Thou +has railed on thyself. + +ADAM. +[_Coming forward_.] Sweet masters, be patient. For your father’s +remembrance, be at accord. + +OLIVER. +Let me go, I say. + +ORLANDO. +I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My father charged you in +his will to give me good education. You have trained me like a peasant, +obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit +of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it. +Therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me +the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go +buy my fortunes. + +OLIVER. +And what wilt thou do? Beg when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in. I +will not long be troubled with you. You shall have some part of your +will. I pray you leave me. + +ORLANDO. +I no further offend you than becomes me for my good. + +OLIVER. +Get you with him, you old dog. + +ADAM. +Is “old dog” my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your +service. God be with my old master. He would not have spoke such a +word. + +[_Exeunt Orlando and Adam._] + +OLIVER. +Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, +and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! + +Enter Dennis. + +DENNIS +Calls your worship? + +OLIVER. +Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me? + +DENNIS +So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you. + +OLIVER. +Call him in. + +[_Exit Dennis._] + +’Twill be a good way, and tomorrow the wrestling is. + +Enter Charles. + +CHARLES. +Good morrow to your worship. + +OLIVER. +Good Monsieur Charles. What’s the new news at the new court? + +CHARLES. +There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news. That is, the old +Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four +loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose +lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good +leave to wander. + +OLIVER. +Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her +father? + +CHARLES. +O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever +from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her +exile or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court and no less +beloved of her uncle than his own daughter, and never two ladies loved +as they do. + +OLIVER. +Where will the old Duke live? + +CHARLES. +They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men +with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They +say many young gentlemen flock to him every day and fleet the time +carelessly, as they did in the golden world. + +OLIVER. +What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new Duke? + +CHARLES. +Marry, do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, +sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a +disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. Tomorrow, +sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he that escapes me without some +broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and +tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil him, as I must for +my own honour if he come in. Therefore, out of my love to you, I came +hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his +intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that +it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will. + +OLIVER. +Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will +most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother’s purpose +herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; +but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest +young fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every +man’s good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his +natural brother. Therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst +break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t; for if thou +dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on +thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some +treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by +some indirect means or other. For I assure thee (and almost with tears +I speak it) there is not one so young and so villainous this day +living. I speak but brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to +thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and +wonder. + +CHARLES. +I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come tomorrow I’ll give +him his payment. If ever he go alone again I’ll never wrestle for prize +more. And so, God keep your worship. + +[_Exit._] + +OLIVER. +Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall +see an end of him; for my soul—yet I know not why—hates nothing more +than he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble +device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the +heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, +that I am altogether misprized. But it shall not be so long; this +wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy +thither, which now I’ll go about. + +[_Exit._] + +SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke’s Palace + +Enter Rosalind and Celia. + +CELIA. +I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. + +ROSALIND. +Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of, and would you yet +I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, +you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. + +CELIA. +Herein I see thou lov’st me not with the full weight that I love thee. +If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my +father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love +to take thy father for mine. So wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love +to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee. + +ROSALIND. +Well, I will forget the condition of my estate to rejoice in yours. + +CELIA. +You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and +truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away +from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection. By +mine honour I will! And when I break that oath, let me turn monster. +Therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. + +ROSALIND. +From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see—what think +you of falling in love? + +CELIA. +Marry, I prithee do, to make sport withal; but love no man in good +earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure +blush thou mayst in honour come off again. + +ROSALIND. +What shall be our sport, then? + +CELIA. +Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her +gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. + +ROSALIND. +I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and +the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. + +CELIA. +’Tis true, for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and +those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s. Fortune reigns +in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. + +Enter Touchstone. + +CELIA. +No? When Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall +into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, +hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? + +ROSALIND. +Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes +Nature’s natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit. + +CELIA. +Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, but Nature’s, who +perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and +hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dullness of +the fool is the whetstone of the wits.—How now, wit, whither wander +you? + +TOUCHSTONE. +Mistress, you must come away to your father. + +CELIA. +Were you made the messenger? + +TOUCHSTONE. +No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. + +ROSALIND. +Where learned you that oath, fool? + +TOUCHSTONE. +Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, +and swore by his honour the mustard was naught. Now, I’ll stand to it, +the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the +knight forsworn. + +CELIA. +How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge? + +ROSALIND. +Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards +that I am a knave. + +CELIA. +By our beards, if we had them, thou art. + +TOUCHSTONE. +By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you swear by that that +is not, you are not forsworn. No more was this knight swearing by his +honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before +ever he saw those pancackes or that mustard. + +CELIA. +Prithee, who is’t that thou mean’st? + +TOUCHSTONE. +One that old Frederick, your father, loves. + +CELIA. +My father’s love is enough to honour him. Enough! Speak no more of him. +You’ll be whipped for taxation one of these days. + +TOUCHSTONE. +The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do +foolishly. + +CELIA. +By my troth, thou sayest true. For since the little wit that fools have +was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. +Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. + +Enter Le Beau. + +ROSALIND. +With his mouth full of news. + +CELIA. +Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. + +ROSALIND. +Then shall we be news-crammed. + +CELIA. +All the better; we shall be the more marketable. +_Bonjour_, Monsieur Le Beau. What’s the news? + +LE BEAU. +Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. + +CELIA. +Sport! Of what colour? + +LE BEAU. +What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? + +ROSALIND. +As wit and fortune will. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Or as the destinies decrees. + +CELIA. +Well said. That was laid on with a trowel. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Nay, if I keep not my rank— + +ROSALIND. +Thou losest thy old smell. + +LE BEAU. +You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good wrestling, which +you have lost the sight of. + +ROSALIND. +Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. + +LE BEAU. +I will tell you the beginning and, if it please your ladyships, you may +see the end, for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they +are coming to perform it. + +CELIA. +Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. + +LE BEAU. +There comes an old man and his three sons— + +CELIA. +I could match this beginning with an old tale. + +LE BEAU. +Three proper young men of excellent growth and presence. + +ROSALIND. +With bills on their necks: “Be it known unto all men by these +presents.” + +LE BEAU. +The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, +which Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that +there is little hope of life in him. So he served the second, and so +the third. Yonder they lie, the poor old man their father making such +pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with +weeping. + +ROSALIND. +Alas! + +TOUCHSTONE. +But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? + +LE BEAU. +Why, this that I speak of. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I +heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. + +CELIA. +Or I, I promise thee. + +ROSALIND. +But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? Is +there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, +cousin? + +LE BEAU. +You must if you stay here, for here is the place appointed for the +wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. + +CELIA. +Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. + +Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles and Attendants. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Come on. Since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his +forwardness. + +ROSALIND. +Is yonder the man? + +LE BEAU. +Even he, madam. + +CELIA. +Alas, he is too young. Yet he looks successfully. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +How now, daughter and cousin? Are you crept hither to see the +wrestling? + +ROSALIND. +Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds +in the man. In pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain dissuade +him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can +move him. + +CELIA. +Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Do so; I’ll not be by. + +[_Duke Frederick steps aside._] + +LE BEAU. +Monsieur the challenger, the Princess calls for you. + +ORLANDO. +I attend them with all respect and duty. + +ROSALIND. +Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? + +ORLANDO. +No, fair princess. He is the general challenger. I come but in as +others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. + +CELIA. +Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have +seen cruel proof of this man’s strength. If you saw yourself with your +eyes or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure +would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you for your own +sake to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. + +ROSALIND. +Do, young sir. Your reputation shall not therefore be misprized. We +will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go +forward. + +ORLANDO. +I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess +me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let +your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I +be foiled there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, +but one dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, +for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have +nothing. Only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better +supplied when I have made it empty. + +ROSALIND. +The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. + +CELIA. +And mine to eke out hers. + +ROSALIND. +Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in you. + +CELIA. +Your heart’s desires be with you. + +CHARLES. +Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his +mother earth? + +ORLANDO. +Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +You shall try but one fall. + +CHARLES. +No, I warrant your grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that +have so mightily persuaded him from a first. + +ORLANDO. +You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before. But +come your ways. + +ROSALIND. +Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! + +CELIA. +I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. + +[_Orlando and Charles wrestle._] + +ROSALIND. +O excellent young man! + +CELIA. +If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. + +[_Charles is thrown. Shout._] + +DUKE FREDERICK. +No more, no more. + +ORLANDO. +Yes, I beseech your grace. I am not yet well breathed. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +How dost thou, Charles? + +LE BEAU. +He cannot speak, my lord. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Bear him away. + +[_Charles is carried off by Attendants._] + +What is thy name, young man? + +ORLANDO. +Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +I would thou hadst been son to some man else. +The world esteemed thy father honourable, +But I did find him still mine enemy. +Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed +Hadst thou descended from another house. +But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth. +I would thou hadst told me of another father. + +[_Exeunt Duke Frederick, Le Beau and Lords._] + +CELIA. +Were I my father, coz, would I do this? + +ORLANDO. +I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son, +His youngest son, and would not change that calling +To be adopted heir to Frederick. + +ROSALIND. +My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, +And all the world was of my father’s mind. +Had I before known this young man his son, +I should have given him tears unto entreaties +Ere he should thus have ventured. + +CELIA. +Gentle cousin, +Let us go thank him and encourage him. +My father’s rough and envious disposition +Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserved. +If you do keep your promises in love +But justly, as you have exceeded promise, +Your mistress shall be happy. + +ROSALIND. +Gentleman, + +[_Giving him a chain from her neck_.] + +Wear this for me—one out of suits with Fortune, +That could give more but that her hand lacks means.— +Shall we go, coz? + +CELIA. +Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. + +ORLANDO. +Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts +Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up +Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. + +ROSALIND. +He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes. +I’ll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?— +Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown +More than your enemies. + +CELIA. +Will you go, coz? + +ROSALIND. +Have with you.—Fare you well. + +[_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia._] + +ORLANDO. +What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? +I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. +O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown. +Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. + +Enter Le Beau. + +LE BEAU. +Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you +To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved +High commendation, true applause, and love, +Yet such is now the Duke’s condition +That he misconsters all that you have done. +The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed +More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. + +ORLANDO. +I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this: +Which of the two was daughter of the Duke +That here was at the wrestling? + +LE BEAU. +Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners, +But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter. +The other is daughter to the banished Duke, +And here detained by her usurping uncle +To keep his daughter company, whose loves +Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. +But I can tell you that of late this Duke +Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece, +Grounded upon no other argument +But that the people praise her for her virtues +And pity her for her good father’s sake; +And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady +Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well. +Hereafter, in a better world than this, +I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. + +ORLANDO. +I rest much bounden to you; fare you well! + +[_Exit Le Beau._] + +Thus must I from the smoke into the smother, +From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother. +But heavenly Rosalind! + +[_Exit._] + +SCENE III. A Room in the Palace + +Enter Celia and Rosalind. + +CELIA. +Why, cousin, why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word? + +ROSALIND. +Not one to throw at a dog. + +CELIA. +No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs. Throw some of +them at me. Come, lame me with reasons. + +ROSALIND. +Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with +reasons and the other mad without any. + +CELIA. +But is all this for your father? + +ROSALIND. +No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this +working-day world! + +CELIA. +They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery. If we +walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. + +ROSALIND. +I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. + +CELIA. +Hem them away. + +ROSALIND. +I would try, if I could cry “hem” and have him. + +CELIA. +Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. + +ROSALIND. +O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. + +CELIA. +O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of a fall. +But turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is +it possible on such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking +with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son? + +ROSALIND. +The Duke my father loved his father dearly. + +CELIA. +Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this +kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; +yet I hate not Orlando. + +ROSALIND. +No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. + +CELIA. +Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? + +Enter Duke Frederick with Lords. + +ROSALIND. +Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do.—Look, here +comes the Duke. + +CELIA. +With his eyes full of anger. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, +And get you from our court. + +ROSALIND. +Me, uncle? + +DUKE FREDERICK. +You, cousin. +Within these ten days if that thou be’st found +So near our public court as twenty miles, +Thou diest for it. + +ROSALIND. +I do beseech your Grace, +Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. +If with myself I hold intelligence, +Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, +If that I do not dream, or be not frantic— +As I do trust I am not—then, dear uncle, +Never so much as in a thought unborn +Did I offend your Highness. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Thus do all traitors. +If their purgation did consist in words, +They are as innocent as grace itself. +Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. + +ROSALIND. +Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. +Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Thou art thy father’s daughter, there’s enough. + +ROSALIND. +So was I when your highness took his dukedom; +So was I when your highness banished him. +Treason is not inherited, my lord, +Or, if we did derive it from our friends, +What’s that to me? My father was no traitor. +Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much +To think my poverty is treacherous. + +CELIA. +Dear sovereign, hear me speak. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake, +Else had she with her father ranged along. + +CELIA. +I did not then entreat to have her stay; +It was your pleasure and your own remorse. +I was too young that time to value her, +But now I know her. If she be a traitor, +Why, so am I. We still have slept together, +Rose at an instant, learned, played, ate together, +And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans, +Still we went coupled and inseparable. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness, +Her very silence, and her patience +Speak to the people, and they pity her. +Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name, +And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous +When she is gone. Then open not thy lips. +Firm and irrevocable is my doom +Which I have passed upon her. She is banished. + +CELIA. +Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. +I cannot live out of her company. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself. +If you outstay the time, upon mine honour +And in the greatness of my word, you die. + +[_Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords._] + +CELIA. +O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? +Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. +I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. + +ROSALIND. +I have more cause. + +CELIA. +Thou hast not, cousin. +Prithee be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke +Hath banished me, his daughter? + +ROSALIND. +That he hath not. + +CELIA. +No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love +Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. +Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet girl? +No, let my father seek another heir. +Therefore devise with me how we may fly, +Whither to go, and what to bear with us, +And do not seek to take your change upon you, +To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out. +For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, +Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee. + +ROSALIND. +Why, whither shall we go? + +CELIA. +To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden. + +ROSALIND. +Alas, what danger will it be to us, +Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? +Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. + +CELIA. +I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire, +And with a kind of umber smirch my face. +The like do you; so shall we pass along +And never stir assailants. + +ROSALIND. +Were it not better, +Because that I am more than common tall, +That I did suit me all points like a man? +A gallant curtal-axe upon my thigh, +A boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart +Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will, +We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside, +As many other mannish cowards have +That do outface it with their semblances. + +CELIA. +What shall I call thee when thou art a man? + +ROSALIND. +I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page, +And therefore look you call me Ganymede. +But what will you be called? + +CELIA. +Something that hath a reference to my state: +No longer Celia, but Aliena. + +ROSALIND. +But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal +The clownish fool out of your father’s court? +Would he not be a comfort to our travel? + +CELIA. +He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me. +Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away, +And get our jewels and our wealth together, +Devise the fittest time and safest way +To hide us from pursuit that will be made +After my flight. Now go we in content +To liberty, and not to banishment. + +[_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT II + +SCENE I. The Forest of Arden + + +Enter Duke Senior, Amiens and two or three Lords, dressed as foresters. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, +Hath not old custom made this life more sweet +Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods +More free from peril than the envious court? +Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, +The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang +And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, +Which when it bites and blows upon my body +Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say: +“This is no flattery. These are counsellors +That feelingly persuade me what I am.” +Sweet are the uses of adversity, +Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, +Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; +And this our life, exempt from public haunt, +Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, +Sermons in stones, and good in everything. + +AMIENS. +I would not change it. Happy is your grace, +That can translate the stubbornness of fortune +Into so quiet and so sweet a style. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Come, shall we go and kill us venison? +And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, +Being native burghers of this desert city, +Should in their own confines with forked heads +Have their round haunches gored. + +FIRST LORD. +Indeed, my lord, +The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, +And in that kind swears you do more usurp +Than doth your brother that hath banished you. +Today my lord of Amiens and myself +Did steal behind him as he lay along +Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out +Upon the brook that brawls along this wood; +To the which place a poor sequestered stag, +That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt, +Did come to languish; and indeed, my lord, +The wretched animal heaved forth such groans +That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat +Almost to bursting, and the big round tears +Coursed one another down his innocent nose +In piteous chase. And thus the hairy fool, +Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, +Stood on th’ extremest verge of the swift brook, +Augmenting it with tears. + +DUKE SENIOR. +But what said Jaques? +Did he not moralize this spectacle? + +FIRST LORD. +O yes, into a thousand similes. +First, for his weeping into the needless stream: +“Poor deer,” quoth he “thou mak’st a testament +As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more +To that which had too much.” Then, being there alone, +Left and abandoned of his velvet friends: +“’Tis right”; quoth he, “thus misery doth part +The flux of company.” Anon a careless herd, +Full of the pasture, jumps along by him +And never stays to greet him. “Ay,” quoth Jaques, +“Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens! +’Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look +Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?” +Thus most invectively he pierceth through +The body of the country, city, court, +Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we +Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse, +To fright the animals and to kill them up +In their assigned and native dwelling-place. + +DUKE SENIOR. +And did you leave him in this contemplation? + +SECOND LORD. +We did, my lord, weeping and commenting +Upon the sobbing deer. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Show me the place. +I love to cope him in these sullen fits, +For then he’s full of matter. + +FIRST LORD. +I’ll bring you to him straight. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. A Room in the Palace + +Enter Duke Frederick with Lords. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Can it be possible that no man saw them? +It cannot be! Some villains of my court +Are of consent and sufferance in this. + +FIRST LORD. +I cannot hear of any that did see her. +The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, +Saw her abed, and in the morning early +They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. + +SECOND LORD. +My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft +Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. +Hesperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, +Confesses that she secretly o’erheard +Your daughter and her cousin much commend +The parts and graces of the wrestler +That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; +And she believes wherever they are gone +That youth is surely in their company. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither. +If he be absent, bring his brother to me. +I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly! +And let not search and inquisition quail +To bring again these foolish runaways. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Before Oliver’s House + +Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. + +ORLANDO. +Who’s there? + +ADAM. +What, my young master? O my gentle master, +O my sweet master, O you memory +Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here? +Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? +And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? +Why would you be so fond to overcome +The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke? +Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. +Know you not, master, to some kind of men +Their graces serve them but as enemies? +No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master, +Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. +O, what a world is this, when what is comely +Envenoms him that bears it! + +ORLANDO. +Why, what’s the matter? + +ADAM. +O unhappy youth, +Come not within these doors! Within this roof +The enemy of all your graces lives. +Your brother—no, no brother, yet the son— +Yet not the son; I will not call him son— +Of him I was about to call his father, +Hath heard your praises, and this night he means +To burn the lodging where you use to lie, +And you within it. If he fail of that, +He will have other means to cut you off; +I overheard him and his practices. +This is no place; this house is but a butchery. +Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. + +ORLANDO. +Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? + +ADAM. +No matter whither, so you come not here. + +ORLANDO. +What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food, +Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce +A thievish living on the common road? +This I must do, or know not what to do. +Yet this I will not do, do how I can. +I rather will subject me to the malice +Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. + +ADAM. +But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, +The thrifty hire I saved under your father, +Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, +When service should in my old limbs lie lame, +And unregarded age in corners thrown. +Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, +Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, +Be comfort to my age. Here is the gold. +All this I give you. Let me be your servant. +Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty, +For in my youth I never did apply +Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, +Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo +The means of weakness and debility. +Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, +Frosty but kindly. Let me go with you. +I’ll do the service of a younger man +In all your business and necessities. + +ORLANDO. +O good old man, how well in thee appears +The constant service of the antique world, +When service sweat for duty, not for meed. +Thou art not for the fashion of these times, +Where none will sweat but for promotion, +And having that do choke their service up +Even with the having. It is not so with thee. +But, poor old man, thou prun’st a rotten tree, +That cannot so much as a blossom yield +In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. +But come thy ways, we’ll go along together, +And ere we have thy youthful wages spent +We’ll light upon some settled low content. + +ADAM. +Master, go on and I will follow thee +To the last gasp with truth and loyalty. +From seventeen years till now almost fourscore +Here lived I, but now live here no more. +At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, +But at fourscore it is too late a week. +Yet fortune cannot recompense me better +Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. + +[_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden -Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, CELIA for ALIENA, and CLOWN alias -TOUCHSTONE +Enter Rosalind as Ganymede, Celia as Aliena, and Touchstone. + +ROSALIND. +O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! + +TOUCHSTONE. +I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. + +ROSALIND. +I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel, and to cry like +a woman, but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose +ought to show itself courageous to petticoat. Therefore, courage, good +Aliena. + +CELIA. +I pray you bear with me, I cannot go no further. + +TOUCHSTONE. +For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you. Yet I should +bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your +purse. + +ROSALIND. +Well, this is the forest of Arden. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Ay, now am I in Arden, the more fool I! When I was at home I was in a +better place, but travellers must be content. + +Enter Corin and Silvius. + +ROSALIND. +Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here? A young man and +an old in solemn talk. + +CORIN. +That is the way to make her scorn you still. + +SILVIUS. +O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her! + +CORIN. +I partly guess, for I have loved ere now. + +SILVIUS. +No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, +Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover +As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow. +But if thy love were ever like to mine— +As sure I think did never man love so— +How many actions most ridiculous +Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? + +CORIN. +Into a thousand that I have forgotten. + +SILVIUS. +O, thou didst then never love so heartily! +If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly +That ever love did make thee run into, +Thou hast not loved. +Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, +Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, +Thou hast not loved. +Or if thou hast not broke from company +Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, +Thou hast not loved. +O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe! + +[_Exit Silvius._] + +ROSALIND. +Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound, +I have by hard adventure found mine own. + +TOUCHSTONE. +And I mine. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone +and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember +the kissing of her batlet, and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopped +hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of +her, from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with +weeping tears, “Wear these for my sake.” We that are true lovers run +into strange capers. But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature +in love mortal in folly. + +ROSALIND. +Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins +against it. + +ROSALIND. +Jove, Jove, this shepherd’s passion +Is much upon my fashion. + +TOUCHSTONE. +And mine, but it grows something stale with me. + +CELIA. +I pray you, one of you question yond man +If he for gold will give us any food. +I faint almost to death. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Holla, you clown! + +ROSALIND. +Peace, fool, he’s not thy kinsman. + +CORIN. +Who calls? - ROSALIND. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! - TOUCHSTONE. I Care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. - ROSALIND. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, - and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as - doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; - therefore, courage, good Aliena. - CELIA. I pray you bear with me; I cannot go no further. - TOUCHSTONE. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you; - yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you - have no money in your purse. - ROSALIND. Well,. this is the Forest of Arden. - TOUCHSTONE. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at - home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. - - Enter CORIN and SILVIUS - - ROSALIND. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here, a - young man and an old in solemn talk. - CORIN. That is the way to make her scorn you still. - SILVIUS. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! - CORIN. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. - SILVIUS. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, - Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover - As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow. - But if thy love were ever like to mine, - As sure I think did never man love so, - How many actions most ridiculous - Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? - CORIN. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. - SILVIUS. O, thou didst then never love so heartily! - If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly - That ever love did make thee run into, - Thou hast not lov'd; - Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, - Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, - Thou hast not lov'd; - Or if thou hast not broke from company - Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, - Thou hast not lov'd. - O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! Exit Silvius - ROSALIND. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, - I have by hard adventure found mine own. - TOUCHSTONE. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my - sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to - Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the - cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember - the wooing of peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, - and giving her them again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these - for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers; - but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal - in folly. - ROSALIND. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of. - TOUCHSTONE. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break - my shins against it. - ROSALIND. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion - Is much upon my fashion. - TOUCHSTONE. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. - CELIA. I pray you, one of you question yond man - If he for gold will give us any food; - I faint almost to death. - TOUCHSTONE. Holla, you clown! - ROSALIND. Peace, fool; he's not thy Ensman. - CORIN. Who calls? - TOUCHSTONE. Your betters, sir. - CORIN. Else are they very wretched. - ROSALIND. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. - CORIN. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. - ROSALIND. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold - Can in this desert place buy entertainment, - Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed. - Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd, - And faints for succour. - CORIN. Fair sir, I pity her, - And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, - My fortunes were more able to relieve her; - But I am shepherd to another man, - And do not shear the fleeces that I graze. - My master is of churlish disposition, - And little recks to find the way to heaven - By doing deeds of hospitality. - Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, - Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, - By reason of his absence, there is nothing - That you will feed on; but what is, come see, - And in my voice most welcome shall you be. - ROSALIND. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? - CORIN. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, - That little cares for buying any thing. - ROSALIND. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, - Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, - And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. - CELIA. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, - And willingly could waste my time in it. - CORIN. Assuredly the thing is to be sold. - Go with me; if you like upon report - The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, - I will your very faithful feeder be, - And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt - -SCENE V. Another part of the forest - -Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS - - SONG - AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree - Who loves to lie with me, - And turn his merry note - Unto the sweet bird's throat, - Come hither, come hither, come hither. - Here shall he see - No enemy - But winter and rough weather. - - JAQUES. More, more, I prithee, more. - AMIENS. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. - JAQUES. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy - out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. - AMIENS. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you. - JAQUES. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. - Come, more; another stanzo. Call you 'em stanzos? - AMIENS. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. - JAQUES. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will - you sing? - AMIENS. More at your request than to please myself. - JAQUES. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but - that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; - and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a - penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you - that will not, hold your tongues. - AMIENS. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke - will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look - you. - JAQUES. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is to - disputable for my company. I think of as many matters as he; but - I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, - come. +TOUCHSTONE. +Your betters, sir. + +CORIN. +Else are they very wretched. + +ROSALIND. +Peace, I say.—Good even to you, friend. + +CORIN. +And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. + +ROSALIND. +I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold +Can in this desert place buy entertainment, +Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed. +Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed, +And faints for succour. + +CORIN. +Fair sir, I pity her +And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, +My fortunes were more able to relieve her. +But I am shepherd to another man +And do not shear the fleeces that I graze. +My master is of churlish disposition +And little recks to find the way to heaven +By doing deeds of hospitality. +Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed +Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, +By reason of his absence, there is nothing +That you will feed on. But what is, come see, +And in my voice most welcome shall you be. + +ROSALIND. +What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? + +CORIN. +That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, +That little cares for buying anything. + +ROSALIND. +I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, +Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, +And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. + +CELIA. +And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, +And willingly could waste my time in it. + +CORIN. +Assuredly the thing is to be sold. +Go with me. If you like upon report +The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, +I will your very faithful feeder be, +And buy it with your gold right suddenly. - SONG - [All together here] - - Who doth ambition shun, - And loves to live i' th' sun, - Seeking the food he eats, - And pleas'd with what he gets, - Come hither, come hither, come hither. - Here shall he see - No enemy - But winter and rough weather. - - JAQUES. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in - despite of my invention. - AMIENS. And I'll sing it. - JAQUES. Thus it goes: - - If it do come to pass - That any man turn ass, - Leaving his wealth and ease - A stubborn will to please, - Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; - Here shall he see - Gross fools as he, - An if he will come to me. - - AMIENS. What's that 'ducdame'? - JAQUES. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll - go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the - first-born of Egypt. - AMIENS. And I'll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepar'd. - Exeunt severally +[_Exeunt._] -SCENE VI. The forest - -Enter ORLANDO and ADAM - - ADAM. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie - I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. - ORLANDO. Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in thee? Live a - little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth - forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or - bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy - powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the - arm's end. I will here be with the presently; and if I bring thee - not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou - diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! - thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou - liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; - and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live - anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt - -SCENE VII. The forest - -A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws - - DUKE SENIOR. I think he be transform'd into a beast; - For I can nowhere find him like a man. - FIRST LORD. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; - Here was he merry, hearing of a song. - DUKE SENIOR. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, - We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. - Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him. - - Enter JAQUES - - FIRST LORD. He saves my labour by his own approach. - DUKE SENIOR. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, - That your poor friends must woo your company? - What, you look merrily! - JAQUES. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, - A motley fool. A miserable world! - As I do live by food, I met a fool, - Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, - And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, - In good set terms- and yet a motley fool. - 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I; 'No, sir,' quoth he, - 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.' - And then he drew a dial from his poke, - And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, - Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock; - Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags; - 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine; - And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; - And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, - And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; - And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear - The motley fool thus moral on the time, - My lungs began to crow like chanticleer - That fools should be so deep contemplative; - And I did laugh sans intermission - An hour by his dial. O noble fool! - A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. - DUKE SENIOR. What fool is this? - JAQUES. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, - And says, if ladies be but young and fair, - They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, - Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit - After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd - With observation, the which he vents - In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! - I am ambitious for a motley coat. - DUKE SENIOR. Thou shalt have one. - JAQUES. It is my only suit, - Provided that you weed your better judgments - Of all opinion that grows rank in them - That I am wise. I must have liberty - Withal, as large a charter as the wind, - To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; - And they that are most galled with my folly, - They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? - The why is plain as way to parish church: - He that a fool doth very wisely hit - Doth very foolishly, although he smart, - Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, - The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd - Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. - Invest me in my motley; give me leave - To speak my mind, and I will through and through - Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, - If they will patiently receive my medicine. - DUKE SENIOR. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. - JAQUES. What, for a counter, would I do but good? - DUKE SENIOR. Most Mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin; - For thou thyself hast been a libertine, - As sensual as the brutish sting itself; - And all th' embossed sores and headed evils - That thou with license of free foot hast caught - Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. - JAQUES. Why, who cries out on pride - That can therein tax any private party? - Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, - Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? - What woman in the city do I name - When that I say the city-woman bears - The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? - Who can come in and say that I mean her, - When such a one as she such is her neighbour? - Or what is he of basest function - That says his bravery is not on my cost, - Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits - His folly to the mettle of my speech? - There then! how then? what then? Let me see wherein - My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, - Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, - Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, - Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here? - - Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn - - ORLANDO. Forbear, and eat no more. - JAQUES. Why, I have eat none yet. - ORLANDO. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. - JAQUES. Of what kind should this cock come of? - DUKE SENIOR. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress? - Or else a rude despiser of good manners, - That in civility thou seem'st so empty? - ORLANDO. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point - Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show - Of smooth civility; yet arn I inland bred, - And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; - He dies that touches any of this fruit - Till I and my affairs are answered. - JAQUES. An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die. - DUKE SENIOR. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force - More than your force move us to gentleness. - ORLANDO. I almost die for food, and let me have it. - DUKE SENIOR. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. - ORLANDO. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; - I thought that all things had been savage here, - And therefore put I on the countenance - Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are - That in this desert inaccessible, - Under the shade of melancholy boughs, - Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; - If ever you have look'd on better days, - If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, - If ever sat at any good man's feast, - If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, - And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, - Let gentleness my strong enforcement be; - In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. - DUKE SENIOR. True is it that we have seen better days, - And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church, - And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes - Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red; - And therefore sit you down in gentleness, - And take upon command what help we have - That to your wanting may be minist'red. - ORLANDO. Then but forbear your food a little while, - Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, - And give it food. There is an old poor man - Who after me hath many a weary step - Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd, - Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, - I will not touch a bit. - DUKE SENIOR. Go find him out. - And we will nothing waste till you return. - ORLANDO. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! - Exit - DUKE SENIOR. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: - This wide and universal theatre - Presents more woeful pageants than the scene - Wherein we play in. - JAQUES. All the world's a stage, - And all the men and women merely players; - They have their exits and their entrances; - And one man in his time plays many parts, - His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, - Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; - Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel - And shining morning face, creeping like snail - Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, - Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, - Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, - Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, - Seeking the bubble reputation - Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, - In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, - Full of wise saws and modern instances; - And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts - Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, - With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, - His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide - For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, - Turning again toward childish treble, pipes - And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, - That ends this strange eventful history, - Is second childishness and mere oblivion; - Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. - - Re-enter ORLANDO with ADAM - - DUKE SENIOR. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden. - And let him feed. - ORLANDO. I thank you most for him. - ADAM. So had you need; - I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. - DUKE SENIOR. Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you - As yet to question you about your fortunes. - Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. +SCENE V. Another part of the Forest - SONG - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, - Thou art not so unkind - As man's ingratitude; - Thy tooth is not so keen, - Because thou art not seen, - Although thy breath be rude. - Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly. - Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. - Then, heigh-ho, the holly! - This life is most jolly. - - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, - That dost not bite so nigh - As benefits forgot; - Though thou the waters warp, - Thy sting is not so sharp - As friend rememb'red not. - Heigh-ho! sing, &c. - - DUKE SENIOR. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, - As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, - And as mine eye doth his effigies witness - Most truly limn'd and living in your face, - Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke - That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune, - Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, - Thou art right welcome as thy master is. - Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, - And let me all your fortunes understand. Exeunt - -ACT III. SCENE I. The palace - -Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, and LORDS - - FREDERICK. Not see him since! Sir, sir, that cannot be. - But were I not the better part made mercy, - I should not seek an absent argument - Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: - Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is; - Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living - Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more - To seek a living in our territory. - Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine - Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, - Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth - Of what we think against thee. - OLIVER. O that your Highness knew my heart in this! - I never lov'd my brother in my life. - FREDERICK. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; - And let my officers of such a nature - Make an extent upon his house and lands. - Do this expediently, and turn him going. Exeunt - -SCENE II. The forest - -Enter ORLANDO, with a paper - - ORLANDO. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; - And thou, thrice-crowned Queen of Night, survey - With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, - Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. - O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, - And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, - That every eye which in this forest looks - Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. - Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree, - The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Exit - - Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE - - CORIN. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good - life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. - In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in - respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in - respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect - it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, - look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty - in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in - thee, shepherd? - CORIN. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at - ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is - without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet, - and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a - great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath - learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, - or comes of a very dull kindred. - TOUCHSTONE. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in - court, shepherd? - CORIN. No, truly. - TOUCHSTONE. Then thou art damn'd. - CORIN. Nay, I hope. - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on - one side. - CORIN. For not being at court? Your reason. - TOUCHSTONE. Why, if thou never wast at court thou never saw'st good - manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must - be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art - in a parlous state, shepherd. - CORIN. Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the - court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the - country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not - at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be - uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. - TOUCHSTONE. Instance, briefly; come, instance. - CORIN. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you - know, are greasy. - TOUCHSTONE. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? And is not the - grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, - shallow. A better instance, I say; come. - CORIN. Besides, our hands are hard. - TOUCHSTONE. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A - more sounder instance; come. - CORIN. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our - sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are - perfum'd with civet. - TOUCHSTONE. Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good - piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is - of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend - the instance, shepherd. - CORIN. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest. - TOUCHSTONE. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God - make incision in thee! thou art raw. - CORIN. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I - wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other - men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is - to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. - TOUCHSTONE. That is another simple sin in you: to bring the ewes - and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the - copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray - a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, - out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damn'd for this, - the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how - thou shouldst scape. - CORIN. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. - - Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper - - ROSALIND. 'From the east to western Inde, - No jewel is like Rosalinde. - Her worth, being mounted on the wind, - Through all the world bears Rosalinde. - All the pictures fairest lin'd - Are but black to Rosalinde. - Let no face be kept in mind - But the fair of Rosalinde.' - TOUCHSTONE. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and - suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted. It is the right - butter-women's rank to market. - ROSALIND. Out, fool! - TOUCHSTONE. For a taste: - If a hart do lack a hind, - Let him seek out Rosalinde. - If the cat will after kind, - So be sure will Rosalinde. - Winter garments must be lin'd, - So must slender Rosalinde. - They that reap must sheaf and bind, - Then to cart with Rosalinde. - Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, - Such a nut is Rosalinde. - He that sweetest rose will find - Must find love's prick and Rosalinde. - This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect - yourself with them? - ROSALIND. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. - ROSALIND. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a - medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for - you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right - virtue of the medlar. - TOUCHSTONE. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest - judge. - - Enter CELIA, with a writing - - ROSALIND. Peace! - Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. - CELIA. 'Why should this a desert be? - For it is unpeopled? No; - Tongues I'll hang on every tree - That shall civil sayings show. - Some, how brief the life of man - Runs his erring pilgrimage, - That the streching of a span - Buckles in his sum of age; - Some, of violated vows - 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; - But upon the fairest boughs, - Or at every sentence end, - Will I Rosalinda write, - Teaching all that read to know - The quintessence of every sprite - Heaven would in little show. - Therefore heaven Nature charg'd - That one body should be fill'd - With all graces wide-enlarg'd. - Nature presently distill'd - Helen's cheek, but not her heart, - Cleopatra's majesty, - Atalanta's better part, - Sad Lucretia's modesty. - Thus Rosalinde of many parts - By heavenly synod was devis'd, - Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, - To have the touches dearest priz'd. - Heaven would that she these gifts should have, - And I to live and die her slave.' - ROSALIND. O most gentle pulpiter! What tedious homily of love have - you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have - patience, good people.' - CELIA. How now! Back, friends; shepherd, go off a little; go with - him, sirrah. - TOUCHSTONE. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; - though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. - Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE - CELIA. Didst thou hear these verses? - ROSALIND. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them - had in them more feet than the verses would bear. - CELIA. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. - ROSALIND. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves - without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. - CELIA. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be - hang'd and carved upon these trees? - ROSALIND. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you - came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so - berhym'd since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish rat, which I - can hardly remember. - CELIA. Trow you who hath done this? - ROSALIND. Is it a man? - CELIA. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. - Change you colour? - ROSALIND. I prithee, who? - CELIA. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but - mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter. - ROSALIND. Nay, but who is it? - CELIA. Is it possible? - ROSALIND. Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell - me who it is. - CELIA. O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet - again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping! - ROSALIND. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am - caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my - disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. - I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would - thou could'st stammer, that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man - out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd bottle- - either too much at once or none at all. I prithee take the cork - out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. - CELIA. So you may put a man in your belly. - ROSALIND. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? - Is his head worth a hat or his chin worth a beard? - CELIA. Nay, he hath but a little beard. - ROSALIND. Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let - me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the - knowledge of his chin. - CELIA. It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels - and your heart both in an instant. - ROSALIND. Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true - maid. - CELIA. I' faith, coz, 'tis he. - ROSALIND. Orlando? - CELIA. Orlando. - ROSALIND. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? - What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? - Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where - remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him - again? Answer me in one word. - CELIA. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too - great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these - particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. - ROSALIND. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's - apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? - CELIA. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the - propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and - relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a - dropp'd acorn. - ROSALIND. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth - such fruit. - CELIA. Give me audience, good madam. - ROSALIND. Proceed. - CELIA. There lay he, stretch'd along like a wounded knight. - ROSALIND. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes - the ground. - CELIA. Cry 'Holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets - unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. - ROSALIND. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. - CELIA. I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring'st me out - of tune. - ROSALIND. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. - Sweet, say on. - CELIA. You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here? - - Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES - - ROSALIND. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. JAQUES. I thank you for - your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. - ORLANDO. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for - your society. JAQUES. God buy you; let's meet as little as we can. - ORLANDO. I do desire we may be better strangers. JAQUES. I pray you - mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks. ORLANDO. I - pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. - JAQUES. Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO. Yes, just. JAQUES. I - do not like her name. ORLANDO. There was no thought of pleasing you - when she was christen'd. JAQUES. What stature is she of? ORLANDO. - Just as high as my heart. JAQUES. You are full of pretty answers. - Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them - out of rings? ORLANDO. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, - from whence you have studied your questions. JAQUES. You have a - nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down - with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all - our misery. ORLANDO. I will chide no breather in the world but - myself, against whom I know most faults. JAQUES. The worst fault you - have is to be in love. ORLANDO. 'Tis a fault I will not change for - your best virtue. I am weary of you. JAQUES. By my troth, I was - seeking for a fool when I found you. ORLANDO. He is drown'd in the - brook; look but in, and you shall see him. JAQUES. There I shall see - mine own figure. ORLANDO. Which I take to be either a fool or a - cipher. JAQUES. I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good Signior - Love. ORLANDO. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur - Melancholy. Exit JAQUES ROSALIND. [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to - him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with - him.- Do you hear, forester? ORLANDO. Very well; what would you? - ROSALIND. I pray you, what is't o'clock? ORLANDO. You should ask me - what time o' day; there's no clock in the forest. ROSALIND. Then - there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing every minute and - groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a - clock. ORLANDO. And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been - as proper? ROSALIND. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces - with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time - trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still - withal. ORLANDO. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? ROSALIND. Marry, - he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage - and the day it is solemniz'd; if the interim be but a se'nnight, - Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. - ORLANDO. Who ambles Time withal? ROSALIND. With a priest that lacks - Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps - easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because - he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful - learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These - Time ambles withal. ORLANDO. Who doth he gallop withal? ROSALIND. - With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can - fall, he thinks himself too soon there. ORLANDO. Who stays it still - withal? ROSALIND. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep - between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. - ORLANDO. Where dwell you, pretty youth? ROSALIND. With this - shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe - upon a petticoat. ORLANDO. Are you native of this place? ROSALIND. As - the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. ORLANDO. Your - accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a - dwelling. ROSALIND. I have been told so of many; but indeed an old - religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an - inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in - love. I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God - I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he - hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. ORLANDO. Can you - remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of - women? ROSALIND. There were none principal; they were all like one - another as halfpence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his - fellow-fault came to match it. ORLANDO. I prithee recount some of - them. ROSALIND. No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that - are sick. There is a man haunts the forest that abuses our young - plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks; hangs odes upon - hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name - of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some - good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. - ORLANDO. I am he that is so love-shak'd; I pray you tell me your - remedy. ROSALIND. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he - taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am - sure you are not prisoner. ORLANDO. What were his marks? ROSALIND. A - lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have - not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, - which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having - in beard is a younger brother's revenue. Then your hose should be - ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe - untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless - desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather point-device in - your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any - other. ORLANDO. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. - ROSALIND. Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love - believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she - does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie - to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the - verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired? ORLANDO. I swear - to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that - unfortunate he. ROSALIND. But are you so much in love as your rhymes - speak? ORLANDO. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. - ROSALIND. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well - a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not - so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the - whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. - ORLANDO. Did you ever cure any so? ROSALIND. Yes, one; and in this - manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him - every day to woo me; at which time would I, being but a moonish - youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, - fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of - smiles; for every passion something and for no passion truly - anything, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this - colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then - forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my - suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; - which was, to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a - nook merely monastic. And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take - upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that - there shall not be one spot of love in 't. ORLANDO. I would not be - cured, youth. ROSALIND. I would cure you, if you would but call me - Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me. ORLANDO. Now, by - the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. ROSALIND. Go with - me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me - where in the forest you live. Will you go? ORLANDO. With all my - heart, good youth. ROSALIND. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, - sister, will you go? - Exeunt - -SCENE III. The forest - -Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind - - TOUCHSTONE. Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats, - Audrey. And how, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature - content you? - AUDREY. Your features! Lord warrant us! What features? - TOUCHSTONE. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most - capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. - JAQUES. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a - thatch'd house! - TOUCHSTONE. When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's - good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it - strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. - Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. - AUDREY. I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest in deed and - word? Is it a true thing? - TOUCHSTONE. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, - and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may - be said as lovers they do feign. - AUDREY. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? - TOUCHSTONE. I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest; - now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst - feign. - AUDREY. Would you not have me honest? - TOUCHSTONE. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty - coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. - JAQUES. [Aside] A material fool! - AUDREY. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me - honest. - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were - to put good meat into an unclean dish. - AUDREY. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. - TOUCHSTONE. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; - sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will - marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, - the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in - this place of the forest, and to couple us. - JAQUES. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. - AUDREY. Well, the gods give us joy! - TOUCHSTONE. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger - in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no - assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are - odious, they are necessary. It is said: 'Many a man knows no end - of his goods.' Right! Many a man has good horns and knows no end - of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his - own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest - deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore - blessed? No; as a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so - is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare - brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no - skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. Here comes - Sir Oliver. - - Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT - - Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here - under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? - MARTEXT. Is there none here to give the woman? - TOUCHSTONE. I will not take her on gift of any man. - MARTEXT. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. - JAQUES. [Discovering himself] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her. - TOUCHSTONE. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir? - You are very well met. Goddild you for your last company. I am - very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay; pray be - cover'd. - JAQUES. Will you be married, motley? - TOUCHSTONE. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and - the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons - bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. - JAQUES. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married - under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church and have a good - priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but - join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will - prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp. - TOUCHSTONE. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be - married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me - well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me - hereafter to leave my wife. - JAQUES. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. - TOUCHSTONE. Come, sweet Audrey; - We must be married or we must live in bawdry. - Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not- - O sweet Oliver, - O brave Oliver, - Leave me not behind thee. - But- - Wind away, - Begone, I say, - I will not to wedding with thee. - Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY - MARTEXT. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all - shall flout me out of my calling. Exit - -SCENE IV. The forest - -Enter ROSALIND and CELIA - - ROSALIND. Never talk to me; I will weep. - CELIA. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears - do not become a man. - ROSALIND. But have I not cause to weep? - CELIA. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. - ROSALIND. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. - CELIA. Something browner than Judas's. - Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. - ROSALIND. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. - CELIA. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. - ROSALIND. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of - holy bread. - CELIA. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A nun of - winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of - chastity is in them. - ROSALIND. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and - comes not? - CELIA. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. - ROSALIND. Do you think so? - CELIA. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer; but - for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as covered - goblet or a worm-eaten nut. - ROSALIND. Not true in love? - CELIA. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. - ROSALIND. You have heard him swear downright he was. - CELIA. 'Was' is not 'is'; besides, the oath of a lover is no - stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmer - of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the Duke, - your father. - ROSALIND. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him. - He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as - he; so he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk we of fathers when - there is such a man as Orlando? - CELIA. O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave - words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite - traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that - spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble - goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who - comes here? - - Enter CORIN - - CORIN. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired - After the shepherd that complain'd of love, - Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, - Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess - That was his mistress. - CELIA. Well, and what of him? - CORIN. If you will see a pageant truly play'd - Between the pale complexion of true love - And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, - Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, - If you will mark it. - ROSALIND. O, come, let us remove! - The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. - Bring us to this sight, and you shall say - I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Exeunt - -SCENE V. Another part of the forest - -Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE - - SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe. - Say that you love me not; but say not so - In bitterness. The common executioner, - Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard, - Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck - But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be - Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? - - Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance - - PHEBE. I would not be thy executioner; - I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. - Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye. - 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, - That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, - Who shut their coward gates on atomies, - Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! - Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; - And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee. - Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; - Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, - Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. - Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee. - Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains - Some scar of it; lean upon a rush, - The cicatrice and capable impressure - Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, - Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; - Nor, I am sure, there is not force in eyes - That can do hurt. - SILVIUS. O dear Phebe, - If ever- as that ever may be near- - You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, - Then shall you know the wounds invisible - That love's keen arrows make. - PHEBE. But till that time - Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, - Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; - As till that time I shall not pity thee. - ROSALIND. [Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who might be your - mother, - That you insult, exult, and all at once, - Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty- - As, by my faith, I see no more in you - Than without candle may go dark to bed- - Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? - Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? - I see no more in you than in the ordinary - Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, - I think she means to tangle my eyes too! - No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; - 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, - Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, - That can entame my spirits to your worship. - You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, - Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? - You are a thousand times a properer man - Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you - That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children. - 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; - And out of you she sees herself more proper - Than any of her lineaments can show her. - But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees, - And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love; - For I must tell you friendly in your ear: - Sell when you can; you are not for all markets. - Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer; - Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. - So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well. - PHEBE. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; - I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. - ROSALIND. He's fall'n in love with your foulness, and she'll fall - in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee - with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look - you so upon me? - PHEBE. For no ill will I bear you. - ROSALIND. I pray you do not fall in love with me, - For I am falser than vows made in wine; - Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, - 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. - Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. - Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, - And be not proud; though all the world could see, - None could be so abus'd in sight as he. - Come, to our flock. Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN - PHEBE. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might: - 'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?' - SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe. - PHEBE. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius? - SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, pity me. - PHEBE. Why, I arn sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. - SILVIUS. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be. - If you do sorrow at my grief in love, - By giving love, your sorrow and my grief - Were both extermin'd. - PHEBE. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly? - SILVIUS. I would have you. - PHEBE. Why, that were covetousness. - Silvius, the time was that I hated thee; - And yet it is not that I bear thee love; - But since that thou canst talk of love so well, - Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, - I will endure; and I'll employ thee too. - But do not look for further recompense - Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. - SILVIUS. So holy and so perfect is my love, - And I in such a poverty of grace, - That I shall think it a most plenteous crop - To glean the broken ears after the man - That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then - A scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon. - PHEBE. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? - SILVIUS. Not very well; but I have met him oft; - And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds - That the old carlot once was master of. - PHEBE. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; - 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well. - But what care I for words? Yet words do well - When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. - It is a pretty youth- not very pretty; - But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him. - He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him - Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue - Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. - He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall; - His leg is but so-so; and yet 'tis well. - There was a pretty redness in his lip, - A little riper and more lusty red - Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference - Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. - There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him - In parcels as I did, would have gone near - To fall in love with him; but, for my part, - I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet - I have more cause to hate him than to love him; - For what had he to do to chide at me? - He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black, - And, now I am rememb'red, scorn'd at me. - I marvel why I answer'd not again; - But that's all one: omittance is no quittance. - I'll write to him a very taunting letter, - And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius? - SILVIUS. Phebe, with all my heart. - PHEBE. I'll write it straight; - The matter's in my head and in my heart; - I will be bitter with him and passing short. - Go with me, Silvius. Exeunt - -ACT IV. SCENE I. The forest - -Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES - - JAQUES. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with - thee. - ROSALIND. They say you are a melancholy fellow. - JAQUES. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. - ROSALIND. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable - fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than - drunkards. - JAQUES. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. - ROSALIND. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. - JAQUES. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is - emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the - courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is - ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, - which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a - melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted - from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my - travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous - sadness. - ROSALIND. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be - sad. I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's; then - to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and - poor hands. - JAQUES. Yes, I have gain'd my experience. - - Enter ORLANDO - - ROSALIND. And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a - fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to - travel for it too. - ORLANDO. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! - JAQUES. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse. - ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look you lisp and wear - strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be - out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making - you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have - swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES] Why, how now, Orlando! where - have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such - another trick, never come in my sight more. - ORLANDO. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. - ROSALIND. Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a - minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the - thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said - of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll - warrant him heart-whole. - ORLANDO. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. - ROSALIND. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had - as lief be woo'd of a snail. - ORLANDO. Of a snail! - ROSALIND. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries - his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make - a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him. - ORLANDO. What's that? - ROSALIND. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to - your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents - the slander of his wife. - ORLANDO. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. - ROSALIND. And I am your Rosalind. - CELIA. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a - better leer than you. - ROSALIND. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, - and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I - were your very very Rosalind? - ORLANDO. I would kiss before I spoke. - ROSALIND. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were - gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. - Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for - lovers lacking- God warn us!- matter, the cleanliest shift is to - kiss. - ORLANDO. How if the kiss be denied? - ROSALIND. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new - matter. - ORLANDO. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? - ROSALIND. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I - should think my honesty ranker than my wit. - ORLANDO. What, of my suit? - ROSALIND. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. - Am not I your Rosalind? - ORLANDO. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking - of her. - ROSALIND. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. - ORLANDO. Then, in mine own person, I die. - ROSALIND. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six - thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man - died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had - his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he - could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. - Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had - turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, - good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, - being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish - chroniclers of that age found it was- Hero of Sestos. But these - are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have - eaten them, but not for love. - ORLANDO. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I - protest, her frown might kill me. - ROSALIND. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I - will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me - what you will, I will grant it. - ORLANDO. Then love me, Rosalind. - ROSALIND. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all. - ORLANDO. And wilt thou have me? - ROSALIND. Ay, and twenty such. - ORLANDO. What sayest thou? - ROSALIND. Are you not good? - ORLANDO. I hope so. - ROSALIND. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, - sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, - Orlando. What do you say, sister? - ORLANDO. Pray thee, marry us. - CELIA. I cannot say the words. - ROSALIND. You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'- - CELIA. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? - ORLANDO. I will. - ROSALIND. Ay, but when? - ORLANDO. Why, now; as fast as she can marry us. - ROSALIND. Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.' - ORLANDO. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. - ROSALIND. I might ask you for your commission; but- I do take thee, - Orlando, for my husband. There's a girl goes before the priest; - and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions. - ORLANDO. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd. - ROSALIND. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have - possess'd her. - ORLANDO. For ever and a day. - ROSALIND. Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are - April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when - they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will - be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, - more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than - an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for - nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you - are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when - thou are inclin'd to sleep. - ORLANDO. But will my Rosalind do so? - ROSALIND. By my life, she will do as I do. - ORLANDO. O, but she is wise. - ROSALIND. Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser, - the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out - at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop - that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. - ORLANDO. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit, - whither wilt?' ROSALIND. Nay, you might keep that check for it, - till you met your - wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. - ORLANDO. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? - ROSALIND. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never - take her without her answer, unless you take her without her - tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's - occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will - breed it like a fool! - ORLANDO. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. - ROSALIND. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours! - ORLANDO. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be - with thee again. - ROSALIND. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would - prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less. That - flattering tongue of yours won me. 'Tis but one cast away, and - so, come death! Two o'clock is your hour? - ORLANDO. Ay, sweet Rosalind. - ROSALIND. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and - by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot - of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will - think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow - lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may - be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore - beware my censure, and keep your promise. - ORLANDO. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my - Rosalind; so, adieu. - ROSALIND. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such - offenders, and let Time try. Adieu. Exit ORLANDO - CELIA. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate. We must - have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the - world what the bird hath done to her own nest. - ROSALIND. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst - know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; - my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal. - CELIA. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection - in, it runs out. - ROSALIND. No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of - thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind - rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are - out- let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll tell thee, - Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I'll go find a - shadow, and sigh till he come. - CELIA. And I'll sleep. Exeunt - -SCENE II. The forest - - Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the habit of foresters - - JAQUES. Which is he that killed the deer? - LORD. Sir, it was I. - JAQUES. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and - it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head for a - branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? - LORD. Yes, sir. - JAQUES. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise - enough. - - SONG. - - What shall he have that kill'd the deer? - His leather skin and horns to wear. - [The rest shall hear this burden:] - Then sing him home. - - Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; - It was a crest ere thou wast born. - Thy father's father wore it; - And thy father bore it. - The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, - Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. Exeunt - -SCENE III. The forest - -Enter ROSALIND and CELIA - - ROSALIND. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? - And here much Orlando! - CELIA. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath - ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth- to sleep. Look, who - comes here. - - Enter SILVIUS - - SILVIUS. My errand is to you, fair youth; - My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this. - I know not the contents; but, as I guess - By the stern brow and waspish action - Which she did use as she was writing of it, - It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, - I am but as a guiltless messenger. - ROSALIND. Patience herself would startle at this letter, - And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all. - She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; - She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, - Were man as rare as Phoenix. 'Od's my will! - Her love is not the hare that I do hunt; - Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, - This is a letter of your own device. - SILVIUS. No, I protest, I know not the contents; - Phebe did write it. - ROSALIND. Come, come, you are a fool, - And turn'd into the extremity of love. - I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand, - A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think - That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; - She has a huswife's hand- but that's no matter. - I say she never did invent this letter: - This is a man's invention, and his hand. - SILVIUS. Sure, it is hers. - ROSALIND. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style; - A style for challengers. Why, she defies me, - Like Turk to Christian. Women's gentle brain - Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, - Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect - Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? - SILVIUS. So please you, for I never heard it yet; - Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. - ROSALIND. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. - [Reads] - - 'Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, - That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?' - - Can a woman rail thus? - SILVIUS. Call you this railing? - ROSALIND. 'Why, thy godhead laid apart, - Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?' - - Did you ever hear such railing? - - 'Whiles the eye of man did woo me, - That could do no vengeance to me.' - - Meaning me a beast. - - 'If the scorn of your bright eyne +Enter Amiens, Jaques and others. + +AMIENS. +[_Sings_.] + + Under the greenwood tree, + Who loves to lie with me + And turn his merry note + Unto the sweet bird’s throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither! + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES. +More, more, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS. +It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES. +I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song +as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS. +My voice is ragged. I know I cannot please you. + +JAQUES. +I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more, +another _stanzo_. Call you ’em _stanzos?_ + +AMIENS. +What you will, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES. +Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me nothing. Will you sing? + +AMIENS. +More at your request than to please myself. + +JAQUES. +Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank you; but that they call +compliment is like th’ encounter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks +me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the +beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. + +AMIENS. +Well, I’ll end the song.—Sirs, cover the while. The Duke will drink +under this tree; he hath been all this day to look you. + +JAQUES. +And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my +company. I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and +make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. + +AMIENS. +[_Sings_.] + + Who doth ambition shun + And loves to live i’ th’ sun, + Seeking the food he eats + And pleased with what he gets, + Come hither, come hither, come hither. + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES. +I’ll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of +my invention. + +AMIENS. +And I’ll sing it. + +JAQUES. +Thus it goes: + + If it do come to pass + That any man turn ass, + Leaving his wealth and ease + A stubborn will to please, + Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; + Here shall he see + Gross fools as he, + An if he will come to me. + +AMIENS. +What’s that “ducdame?” + +JAQUES. +’Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I’ll go sleep if I +can; if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. + +AMIENS. +And I’ll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepared. + +[_Exeunt severally._] + +SCENE VI. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Orlando and Adam. + +ADAM. +Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie I down +and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. + +ORLANDO. +Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a +little, cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything +savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy +conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable. +Hold death awhile at the arm’s end. I will here be with thee presently, +and if I bring thee not something to eat, I’ll give thee leave to die. +But if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well +said, thou look’st cheerly, and I’ll be with thee quickly. Yet thou +liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter and thou +shalt not die for lack of a dinner if there live anything in this +desert. Cheerly, good Adam! + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE VII. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Duke Senior, Amiens and Lords as outlaws. + +DUKE SENIOR. +I think he be transformed into a beast, +For I can nowhere find him like a man. + +FIRST LORD. +My lord, he is but even now gone hence; +Here was he merry, hearing of a song. + +DUKE SENIOR. +If he, compact of jars, grow musical, +We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. +Go seek him, tell him I would speak with him. + +Enter Jaques. + +FIRST LORD. +He saves my labour by his own approach. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this +That your poor friends must woo your company? +What, you look merrily. + +JAQUES. +A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ th’ forest, +A motley fool. A miserable world! +As I do live by food, I met a fool, +Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, +And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, +In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. +“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he, +“Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.” +And then he drew a dial from his poke, +And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, +Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock. +Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags. +’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, +And after one hour more ’twill be eleven. +And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, +And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, +And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear +The motley fool thus moral on the time, +My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, +That fools should be so deep-contemplative, +And I did laugh sans intermission +An hour by his dial. O noble fool! +A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear. + +DUKE SENIOR. +What fool is this? + +JAQUES. +O worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier, +And says if ladies be but young and fair, +They have the gift to know it. And in his brain, +Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit +After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed +With observation, the which he vents +In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! +I am ambitious for a motley coat. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Thou shalt have one. + +JAQUES. +It is my only suit, +Provided that you weed your better judgements +Of all opinion that grows rank in them +That I am wise. I must have liberty +Withal, as large a charter as the wind, +To blow on whom I please, for so fools have. +And they that are most galled with my folly, +They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? +The “why” is plain as way to parish church. +He that a fool doth very wisely hit +Doth very foolishly, although he smart, +Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not, +The wise man’s folly is anatomized +Even by the squandering glances of the fool. +Invest me in my motley. Give me leave +To speak my mind, and I will through and through +Cleanse the foul body of th’ infected world, +If they will patiently receive my medicine. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. + +JAQUES. +What, for a counter, would I do but good? + +DUKE SENIOR. +Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin; +For thou thyself hast been a libertine, +As sensual as the brutish sting itself, +And all th’ embossed sores and headed evils +That thou with license of free foot hast caught +Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. + +JAQUES. +Why, who cries out on pride +That can therein tax any private party? +Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea +Till that the weary very means do ebb? +What woman in the city do I name +When that I say the city-woman bears +The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? +Who can come in and say that I mean her, +When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? +Or what is he of basest function +That says his bravery is not on my cost, +Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits +His folly to the mettle of my speech? +There then. How then, what then? Let me see wherein +My tongue hath wronged him. If it do him right, +Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free, +Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies +Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here? + +Enter Orlando with sword drawn. + +ORLANDO. +Forbear, and eat no more. + +JAQUES. +Why, I have eat none yet. + +ORLANDO. +Nor shalt not till necessity be served. + +JAQUES. +Of what kind should this cock come of? + +DUKE SENIOR. +Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress? +Or else a rude despiser of good manners, +That in civility thou seem’st so empty? + +ORLANDO. +You touched my vein at first. The thorny point +Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show +Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred +And know some nurture. But forbear, I say! +He dies that touches any of this fruit +Till I and my affairs are answered. + +JAQUES. +An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. + +DUKE SENIOR. +What would you have? Your gentleness shall force +More than your force move us to gentleness. + +ORLANDO. +I almost die for food, and let me have it. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. + +ORLANDO. +Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you. +I thought that all things had been savage here +And therefore put I on the countenance +Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are +That in this desert inaccessible, +Under the shade of melancholy boughs, +Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, +If ever you have looked on better days, +If ever been where bells have knolled to church, +If ever sat at any good man’s feast, +If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, +And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied, +Let gentleness my strong enforcement be, +In the which hope I blush and hide my sword. + +DUKE SENIOR. +True is it that we have seen better days, +And have with holy bell been knolled to church, +And sat at good men’s feasts, and wiped our eyes +Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered. +And therefore sit you down in gentleness, +And take upon command what help we have +That to your wanting may be ministered. + +ORLANDO. +Then but forbear your food a little while, +Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, +And give it food. There is an old poor man +Who after me hath many a weary step +Limped in pure love. Till he be first sufficed, +Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, +I will not touch a bit. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Go find him out, +And we will nothing waste till you return. + +ORLANDO. +I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort. + +[_Exit._] + +DUKE SENIOR. +Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy. +This wide and universal theatre +Presents more woeful pageants than the scene +Wherein we play in. + +JAQUES. +All the world’s a stage, +And all the men and women merely players; +They have their exits and their entrances, +And one man in his time plays many parts, +His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, +Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms; +Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel +And shining morning face, creeping like snail +Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, +Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad +Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, +Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, +Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, +Seeking the bubble reputation +Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, +In fair round belly with good capon lined, +With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, +Full of wise saws and modern instances; +And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts +Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, +With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, +His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide +For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, +Turning again toward childish treble, pipes +And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, +That ends this strange eventful history, +Is second childishness and mere oblivion, +Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. + +Enter Orlando bearing Adam. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, +And let him feed. + +ORLANDO. +I thank you most for him. + +ADAM. +So had you need; +I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Welcome, fall to. I will not trouble you +As yet to question you about your fortunes. +Give us some music, and good cousin, sing. + +SONG. + + +AMIENS. (_Sings_.) + Blow, blow, thou winter wind, + Thou art not so unkind + As man’s ingratitude. + Thy tooth is not so keen, + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. +Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly. +Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. + Then, heigh-ho, the holly! + This life is most jolly. + + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot. + Though thou the waters warp, + Thy sting is not so sharp + As friend remembered not. +Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly. +Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. + Then, heigh-ho, the holly! + This life is most jolly. + +DUKE SENIOR. +If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son, +As you have whispered faithfully you were, +And as mine eye doth his effigies witness +Most truly limned and living in your face, +Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke +That loved your father. The residue of your fortune +Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man, +Thou art right welcome as thy master is. +Support him by the arm. [_To Orlando_.] Give me your hand, +And let me all your fortunes understand. + +[_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I. A Room in the Palace + + +Enter Duke Frederick, Lords and Oliver. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be. +But were I not the better part made mercy, +I should not seek an absent argument +Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: +Find out thy brother wheresoe’er he is. +Seek him with candle. Bring him dead or living +Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more +To seek a living in our territory. +Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine +Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands, +Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth +Of what we think against thee. + +OLIVER. +O that your highness knew my heart in this: +I never loved my brother in my life. + +DUKE FREDERICK. +More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors, +And let my officers of such a nature +Make an extent upon his house and lands. +Do this expediently, and turn him going. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. The Forest of Arden + +Enter Orlando with a paper. + +ORLANDO. +Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love. + And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey +With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, + Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway. +O Rosalind, these trees shall be my books, + And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character, +That every eye which in this forest looks + Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere. +Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree +The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. + +[_Exit._] + +Enter Corin and Touchstone. + +CORIN. +And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone? + +TOUCHSTONE. +Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in +respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In respect that it +is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it +is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me +well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a +spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more +plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in +thee, shepherd? + +CORIN. +No more but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; +and that he that wants money, means, and content is without three good +friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that +good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night is +lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may +complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? + +CORIN. +No, truly. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Then thou art damned. + +CORIN. +Nay, I hope. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. + +CORIN. +For not being at court? Your reason. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw’st good manners; if +thou never saw’st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked, and +wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, +shepherd. + +CORIN. +Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as +ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most +mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you +kiss your hands. That courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were +shepherds. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Instance, briefly. Come, instance. + +CORIN. +Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are +greasy. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? And is not the grease of a +mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better +instance, I say. Come. + +CORIN. +Besides, our hands are hard. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder +instance, come. + +CORIN. +And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would +you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Most shallow man! Thou worm’s meat in respect of a good piece of flesh +indeed! Learn of the wise and perpend. Civet is of a baser birth than +tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. + +CORIN. +You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll rest. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in +thee, thou art raw. + +CORIN. +Sir, I am a true labourer. I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no +man hate, envy no man’s happiness, glad of other men’s good, content +with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and +my lambs suck. + +TOUCHSTONE. +That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams +together and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; +to be bawd to a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth +to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If +thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no +shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape. + +Enter Rosalind as Ganymede. + +CORIN. +Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother. + +ROSALIND. +[_Reads_.] + _From the east to western Inde + No jewel is like Rosalind. + Her worth being mounted on the wind, + Through all the world bears Rosalind. + All the pictures fairest lined + Are but black to Rosalind. + Let no face be kept in mind + But the fair of Rosalind._ + +TOUCHSTONE. +I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and +sleeping hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s rank to market. + +ROSALIND. +Out, fool! + +TOUCHSTONE. + For a taste: + If a hart do lack a hind, + Let him seek out Rosalind. + If the cat will after kind, + So be sure will Rosalind. + Winter garments must be lined, + So must slender Rosalind. + They that reap must sheaf and bind, + Then to cart with Rosalind. + Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, + Such a nut is Rosalind. + He that sweetest rose will find + Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind. +This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you infect yourself +with them? + +ROSALIND. +Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. + +ROSALIND. +I’ll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then +it will be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten ere +you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar. + +TOUCHSTONE. +You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. + +Enter Celia as Aliena, reading a paper. + +ROSALIND. +Peace, here comes my sister, reading. Stand aside. + +CELIA. +[_Reads_.] + _Why should this a desert be? + For it is unpeopled? No! + Tongues I’ll hang on every tree + That shall civil sayings show. + Some, how brief the life of man + Runs his erring pilgrimage, + That the streching of a span + Buckles in his sum of age; + Some, of violated vows + ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend. + But upon the fairest boughs, + Or at every sentence’ end, + Will I “Rosalinda” write, + Teaching all that read to know + The quintessence of every sprite + Heaven would in little show. + Therefore heaven nature charged + That one body should be filled + With all graces wide-enlarged. + Nature presently distilled + Helen’s cheek, but not her heart, + Cleopatra’s majesty; + Atalanta’s better part, + Sad Lucretia’s modesty. + Thus Rosalind of many parts + By heavenly synod was devised, + Of many faces, eyes, and hearts + To have the touches dearest prized. + Heaven would that she these gifts should have, + And I to live and die her slave._ + +ROSALIND. +O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied +your parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!” + +CELIA. +How now! Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat, though not with bag +and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. + +[_Exeunt Corin and Touchstone._] + +CELIA. +Didst thou hear these verses? + +ROSALIND. +O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them +more feet than the verses would bear. + +CELIA. +That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses. + +ROSALIND. +Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the +verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. + +CELIA. +But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and +carved upon these trees? + +ROSALIND. +I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for +look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so berhymed since +Pythagoras’ time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. + +CELIA. +Trow you who hath done this? + +ROSALIND. +Is it a man? + +CELIA. +And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour? + +ROSALIND. +I prithee, who? + +CELIA. +O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains +may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, but who is it? + +CELIA. +Is it possible? + +ROSALIND. +Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. + +CELIA. +O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet again +wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping! + +ROSALIND. +Good my complexion! Dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a +man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay +more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee tell me who is it quickly, +and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour +this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of +narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at once or none at all. I prithee +take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. + +CELIA. +So you may put a man in your belly. + +ROSALIND. +Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or +his chin worth a beard? + +CELIA. +Nay, he hath but a little beard. + +ROSALIND. +Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the +growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. + +CELIA. +It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your +heart both in an instant. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true maid. + +CELIA. +I’ faith, coz, ’tis he. + +ROSALIND. +Orlando? + +CELIA. +Orlando. + +ROSALIND. +Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he +when thou saw’st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? +What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he +with thee? And when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. + +CELIA. +You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first. ’Tis a word too great for +any mouth of this age’s size. To say ay and no to these particulars is +more than to answer in a catechism. + +ROSALIND. +But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man’s apparel? Looks +he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? + +CELIA. +It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a +lover. But take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good +observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. + +ROSALIND. +It may well be called Jove’s tree when it drops forth such fruit. + +CELIA. +Give me audience, good madam. + +ROSALIND. +Proceed. + +CELIA. +There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight. + +ROSALIND. +Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. + +CELIA. +Cry “holla!” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was +furnished like a hunter. + +ROSALIND. +O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. + +CELIA. +I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune. + +ROSALIND. +Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say +on. + +Enter Orlando and Jaques. + +CELIA. +You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? + +ROSALIND. +’Tis he! Slink by, and note him. + +[_Rosalind and Celia step aside._] + +JAQUES. +I thank you for your company but, good faith, I had as lief have been +myself alone. + +ORLANDO. +And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your +society. + +JAQUES. +God be wi’ you, let’s meet as little as we can. + +ORLANDO. +I do desire we may be better strangers. + +JAQUES. +I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks. + +ORLANDO. +I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. + +JAQUES. +Rosalind is your love’s name? + +ORLANDO. +Yes, just. + +JAQUES. +I do not like her name. + +ORLANDO. +There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. + +JAQUES. +What stature is she of? + +ORLANDO. +Just as high as my heart. + +JAQUES. +You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with +goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings? + +ORLANDO. +Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have +studied your questions. + +JAQUES. +You have a nimble wit. I think ’twas made of Atalanta’s heels. Will you +sit down with me? And we two will rail against our mistress the world +and all our misery. + +ORLANDO. +I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know +most faults. + +JAQUES. +The worst fault you have is to be in love. + +ORLANDO. +’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. + +JAQUES. +By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. + +ORLANDO. +He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him. + +JAQUES. +There I shall see mine own figure. + +ORLANDO. +Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. + +JAQUES. +I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love. + +ORLANDO. +I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. + +[_Exit Jaques.—Celia and Rosalind come forward._] + +ROSALIND. +I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the +knave with him. +Do you hear, forester? + +ORLANDO. +Very well. What would you? + +ROSALIND. +I pray you, what is’t o’clock? + +ORLANDO. +You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s no clock in the forest. + +ROSALIND. +Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing every minute +and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of time as well as a +clock. + +ORLANDO. +And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper? + +ROSALIND. +By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. +I’ll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time +gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. + +ORLANDO. +I prithee, who doth he trot withal? + +ROSALIND. +Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her +marriage and the day it is solemnized. If the interim be but a +se’nnight, time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven +year. + +ORLANDO. +Who ambles time withal? + +ROSALIND. +With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout; +for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives +merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean +and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious +penury. These time ambles withal. + +ORLANDO. +Who doth he gallop withal? + +ROSALIND. +With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can +fall, he thinks himself too soon there. + +ORLANDO. +Who stays it still withal? + +ROSALIND. +With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and +then they perceive not how time moves. + +ORLANDO. +Where dwell you, pretty youth? + +ROSALIND. +With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts of the forest, +like fringe upon a petticoat. + +ORLANDO. +Are you native of this place? + +ROSALIND. +As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. + +ORLANDO. +Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a +dwelling. + +ROSALIND. +I have been told so of many. But indeed an old religious uncle of mine +taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew +courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read +many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be +touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their +whole sex withal. + +ORLANDO. +Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge +of women? + +ROSALIND. +There were none principal. They were all like one another as halfpence +are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to +match it. + +ORLANDO. +I prithee recount some of them. + +ROSALIND. +No. I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is +a man haunts the forest that abuses our young plants with carving +“Rosalind” on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on +brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet +that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to +have the quotidian of love upon him. + +ORLANDO. +I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell me your remedy. + +ROSALIND. +There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you. He taught me how to know a +man in love, in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. + +ORLANDO. +What were his marks? + +ROSALIND. +A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have +not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, +which you have not—but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in +beard is a younger brother’s revenue. Then your hose should be +ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe +untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation. +But you are no such man. You are rather point-device in your +accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. + +ORLANDO. +Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. + +ROSALIND. +Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love believe it, which +I warrant she is apter to do than to confess she does. That is one of +the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. +But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, +wherein Rosalind is so admired? + +ORLANDO. +I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, +that unfortunate he. + +ROSALIND. +But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? + +ORLANDO. +Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. + +ROSALIND. +Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark +house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so +punished and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers +are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. + +ORLANDO. +Did you ever cure any so? + +ROSALIND. +Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his +mistress, and I set him every day to woo me; at which time would I, +being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing +and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of +tears, full of smiles; for every passion something and for no passion +truly anything, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this +colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then +forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my +suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness, which +was to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook +merely monastic. And thus I cured him, and this way will I take upon me +to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall +not be one spot of love in ’t. + +ORLANDO. +I would not be cured, youth. + +ROSALIND. +I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day +to my cote and woo me. + +ORLANDO. +Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. + +ROSALIND. +Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and by the way you shall tell +me where in the forest you live. Will you go? + +ORLANDO. +With all my heart, good youth. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Touchstone and Audrey; Jaques at a distance observing them. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Come apace, good Audrey. I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, +Audrey? Am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you? + +AUDREY. +Your features, Lord warrant us! What features? + +TOUCHSTONE. +I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest +Ovid, was among the Goths. + +JAQUES. +[_Aside_.] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched +house! + +TOUCHSTONE. +When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded +with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than +a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made +thee poetical. + +AUDREY. +I do not know what “poetical” is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it +a true thing? + +TOUCHSTONE. +No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are +given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said, as lovers, +they do feign. + +AUDREY. +Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? + +TOUCHSTONE. +I do, truly, for thou swear’st to me thou art honest. Now if thou wert +a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. + +AUDREY. +Would you not have me honest? + +TOUCHSTONE. +No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to +beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. + +JAQUES. +[_Aside_.] A material fool! + +AUDREY. +Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat +into an unclean dish. + +AUDREY. +I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; sluttishness may come +hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee. And to that end I +have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who +hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us. + +JAQUES. +[_Aside_.] I would fain see this meeting. + +AUDREY. +Well, the gods give us joy! + +TOUCHSTONE. +Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this +attempt, for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but +horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are +necessary. It is said, “Many a man knows no end of his goods.” Right. +Many a man has good horns and knows no end of them. Well, that is the +dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor +men alone? No, no, the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is +the single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town is more worthier +than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable +than the bare brow of a bachelor. And by how much defence is better +than no skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. + +Enter Sir Oliver Martext. + +Here comes Sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you +dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your +chapel? + +MARTEXT. +Is there none here to give the woman? + +TOUCHSTONE. +I will not take her on gift of any man. + +MARTEXT. +Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. + +JAQUES. +[_Coming forward_.] Proceed, proceed. I’ll give her. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t, how do you, sir? You are very +well met. God ’ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see +you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay, pray be covered. + +JAQUES. +Will you be married, motley? + +TOUCHSTONE. +As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her +bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would +be nibbling. + +JAQUES. +And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush +like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell +you what marriage is. This fellow will but join you together as they +join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like +green timber, warp, warp. + +TOUCHSTONE. +[_Aside_.] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him +than of another, for he is not like to marry me well, and not being +well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my +wife. + +JAQUES. +Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. +Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not + _O sweet Oliver, + O brave Oliver, + Leave me not behind thee._ +But + _Wind away,— + Begone, I say, + I will not to wedding with thee._ + +[_Exeunt Touchstone, Audrey and Jaques._] + +MARTEXT. +’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me +out of my calling. + +[_Exit._] + +SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Before a Cottage + +Enter Rosalind and Celia. + +ROSALIND. +Never talk to me, I will weep. + +CELIA. +Do, I prithee, but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not +become a man. + +ROSALIND. +But have I not cause to weep? + +CELIA. +As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. + +ROSALIND. +His very hair is of the dissembling colour. + +CELIA. +Something browner than Judas’s. Marry, his kisses are Judas’s own +children. + +ROSALIND. +I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour. + +CELIA. +An excellent colour. Your chestnut was ever the only colour. + +ROSALIND. +And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. + +CELIA. +He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A nun of winter’s +sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in +them. + +ROSALIND. +But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? + +CELIA. +Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. + +ROSALIND. +Do you think so? + +CELIA. +Yes. I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his +verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a +worm-eaten nut. + +ROSALIND. +Not true in love? + +CELIA. +Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in. + +ROSALIND. +You have heard him swear downright he was. + +CELIA. +“Was” is not “is”. Besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the +word of a tapster. They are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He +attends here in the forest on the Duke your father. + +ROSALIND. +I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me +of what parentage I was. I told him, of as good as he, so he laughed +and let me go. But what talk we of fathers when there is such a man as +Orlando? + +CELIA. +O, that’s a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, +swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart +the heart of his lover, as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on +one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all’s brave that +youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes here? + +Enter Corin. + +CORIN. +Mistress and master, you have oft enquired +After the shepherd that complained of love, +Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, +Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess +That was his mistress. + +CELIA. +Well, and what of him? + +CORIN. +If you will see a pageant truly played +Between the pale complexion of true love +And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, +Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, +If you will mark it. + +ROSALIND. +O, come, let us remove. +The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. +Bring us to this sight, and you shall say +I’ll prove a busy actor in their play. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Silvius and Phoebe. + +SILVIUS. +Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me, do not, Phoebe. +Say that you love me not, but say not so +In bitterness. The common executioner, +Whose heart th’ accustomed sight of death makes hard, +Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck +But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be +Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? + +Enter Rosalind, Celia and Corin, at a distance. + +PHOEBE. +I would not be thy executioner; +I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. +Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye. +’Tis pretty, sure, and very probable +That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things, +Who shut their coward gates on atomies, +Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers. +Now I do frown on thee with all my heart, +And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee. +Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; +Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, +Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. +Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee. +Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains +Some scar of it; lean upon a rush, +The cicatrice and capable impressure +Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes, +Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; +Nor I am sure there is not force in eyes +That can do hurt. + +SILVIUS. +O dear Phoebe, +If ever—as that ever may be near— +You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, +Then shall you know the wounds invisible +That love’s keen arrows make. + +PHOEBE. +But till that time +Come not thou near me. And when that time comes, +Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not, +As till that time I shall not pity thee. + +ROSALIND. +[_Advancing_.] And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, +That you insult, exult, and all at once, +Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty— +As, by my faith, I see no more in you +Than without candle may go dark to bed— +Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? +Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? +I see no more in you than in the ordinary +Of nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life, +I think she means to tangle my eyes too! +No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it. +’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, +Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, +That can entame my spirits to your worship. +You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, +Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? +You are a thousand times a properer man +Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you +That makes the world full of ill-favoured children. +’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her, +And out of you she sees herself more proper +Than any of her lineaments can show her. +But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees, +And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love. +For I must tell you friendly in your ear, +Sell when you can; you are not for all markets. +Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer; +Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. +So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well. + +PHOEBE. +Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together! +I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. + +ROSALIND. +He’s fall’n in love with your foulness, and she’ll fall in love with my +anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, +I’ll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? + +PHOEBE. +For no ill will I bear you. + +ROSALIND. +I pray you do not fall in love with me, +For I am falser than vows made in wine. +Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, +’Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. +Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. +Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, +And be not proud. Though all the world could see, +None could be so abused in sight as he. +Come, to our flock. + +[_Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corin._] + +PHOEBE. +Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might: +“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” + +SILVIUS. +Sweet Phoebe— + +PHOEBE. +Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS. +Sweet Phoebe, pity me. + +PHOEBE. +Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. + +SILVIUS. +Wherever sorrow is, relief would be. +If you do sorrow at my grief in love, +By giving love your sorrow and my grief +Were both extermined. + +PHOEBE. +Thou hast my love. Is not that neighbourly? + +SILVIUS. +I would have you. + +PHOEBE. +Why, that were covetousness. +Silvius, the time was that I hated thee; +And yet it is not that I bear thee love; +But since that thou canst talk of love so well, +Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, +I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too. +But do not look for further recompense +Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. + +SILVIUS. +So holy and so perfect is my love, +And I in such a poverty of grace, +That I shall think it a most plenteous crop +To glean the broken ears after the man +That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then +A scattered smile, and that I’ll live upon. + +PHOEBE. +Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? + +SILVIUS. +Not very well, but I have met him oft, +And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds +That the old carlot once was master of. + +PHOEBE. +Think not I love him, though I ask for him. +’Tis but a peevish boy—yet he talks well. +But what care I for words? Yet words do well +When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. +It is a pretty youth—not very pretty— +But sure he’s proud, and yet his pride becomes him. +He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him +Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue +Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. +He is not very tall, yet for his years he’s tall; +His leg is but so-so, and yet ’tis well. +There was a pretty redness in his lip, +A little riper and more lusty red +Than that mixed in his cheek. ’Twas just the difference +Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. +There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him +In parcels as I did, would have gone near +To fall in love with him; but for my part +I love him not nor hate him not; and yet +I have more cause to hate him than to love him. +For what had he to do to chide at me? +He said mine eyes were black and my hair black, +And now I am remembered, scorned at me. +I marvel why I answered not again. +But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance. +I’ll write to him a very taunting letter, +And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS. +Phoebe, with all my heart. + +PHOEBE. +I’ll write it straight, +The matter’s in my head and in my heart. +I will be bitter with him and passing short. +Go with me, Silvius. + +[_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT IV + +SCENE I. The Forest of Arden + + +Enter Rosalind, Celia and Jaques. + +JAQUES. +I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. + +ROSALIND. +They say you are a melancholy fellow. + +JAQUES. +I am so; I do love it better than laughing. + +ROSALIND. +Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and +betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. + +JAQUES. +Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing. + +ROSALIND. +Why then, ’tis good to be a post. + +JAQUES. +I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the +musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; +nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is +politic; nor the lady’s, which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all +these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, +extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my +travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous +sadness. + +ROSALIND. +A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad. I fear you +have sold your own lands to see other men’s. Then to have seen much and +to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands. + +JAQUES. +Yes, I have gained my experience. + +ROSALIND. +And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a fool to make me +merry than experience to make me sad—and to travel for it too. + +Enter Orlando. + +ORLANDO. +Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! + +JAQUES. +Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse. + +ROSALIND. +Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you lisp and wear strange suits; +disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your +nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are, +or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. + +[_Exit Jaques._] + +Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while? You a lover! +An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. + +ORLANDO. +My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. + +ROSALIND. +Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a +thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute +in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped +him o’ the shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole. + +ORLANDO. +Pardon me, dear Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be +wooed of a snail. + +ORLANDO. +Of a snail? + +ROSALIND. +Ay, of a snail, for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his +head—a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he +brings his destiny with him. + +ORLANDO. +What’s that? + +ROSALIND. +Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives +for. But he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his +wife. + +ORLANDO. +Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous. + +ROSALIND. +And I am your Rosalind. + +CELIA. +It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer +than you. + +ROSALIND. +Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough +to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very +Rosalind? + +ORLANDO. +I would kiss before I spoke. + +ROSALIND. +Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack +of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when +they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn +us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. + +ORLANDO. +How if the kiss be denied? + +ROSALIND. +Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. + +ORLANDO. +Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? + +ROSALIND. +Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my +honesty ranker than my wit. + +ORLANDO. +What, of my suit? + +ROSALIND. +Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your +Rosalind? + +ORLANDO. +I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her. + +ROSALIND. +Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. + +ORLANDO. +Then, in mine own person, I die. + +ROSALIND. +No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years +old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, +_videlicet_, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a +Grecian club, yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of +the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year +though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer +night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont +and, being taken with the cramp, was drowned; and the foolish +chroniclers of that age found it was Hero of Sestos. But these are all +lies. Men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but +not for love. + +ORLANDO. +I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her +frown might kill me. + +ROSALIND. +By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your +Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I +will grant it. + +ORLANDO. +Then love me, Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. + +ORLANDO. +And wilt thou have me? + +ROSALIND. +Ay, and twenty such. + +ORLANDO. +What sayest thou? + +ROSALIND. +Are you not good? + +ORLANDO. +I hope so. + +ROSALIND. +Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?—Come, sister, you +shall be the priest and marry us.—Give me your hand, Orlando.—What do +you say, sister? + +ORLANDO. +Pray thee, marry us. + +CELIA. +I cannot say the words. + +ROSALIND. +You must begin “Will you, Orlando—” + + +CELIA. +Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? + +ORLANDO. +I will. + +ROSALIND. +Ay, but when? + +ORLANDO. +Why now, as fast as she can marry us. + +ROSALIND. +Then you must say “I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.” + +ORLANDO. +I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. + +ROSALIND. +I might ask you for your commission. But I do take thee, Orlando, for +my husband. There’s a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a +woman’s thought runs before her actions. + +ORLANDO. +So do all thoughts. They are winged. + +ROSALIND. +Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her. + +ORLANDO. +For ever and a day. + +ROSALIND. +Say “a day” without the “ever.” No, no, Orlando, men are April when +they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, +but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee +than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot +against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires +than a monkey. I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and +I will do that when you are disposed to be merry. I will laugh like a +hyena, and that when thou are inclined to sleep. + +ORLANDO. +But will my Rosalind do so? + +ROSALIND. +By my life, she will do as I do. + +ORLANDO. +O, but she is wise. + +ROSALIND. +Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser, the +waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman’s wit, and it will out at the +casement. Shut that, and ’twill out at the keyhole. Stop that, ’twill +fly with the smoke out at the chimney. + +ORLANDO. +A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, “Wit, whither +wilt?” + +ROSALIND. +Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit +going to your neighbour’s bed. + +ORLANDO. +And what wit could wit have to excuse that? + +ROSALIND. +Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her +without her answer unless you take her without her tongue. O, that +woman that cannot make her fault her husband’s occasion, let her never +nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool. + +ORLANDO. +For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. + +ROSALIND. +Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. + +ORLANDO. +I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o’clock I will be with thee +again. + +ROSALIND. +Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would prove. My friends +told me as much, and I thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours +won me. ’Tis but one cast away, and so, come death! Two o’clock is your +hour? + +ORLANDO. +Ay, sweet Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty +oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or +come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical +break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her +you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the +unfaithful. Therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise. + +ORLANDO. +With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu. + +ROSALIND. +Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let +time try. Adieu. + +[_Exit Orlando._] + +CELIA. +You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate! We must have your +doublet and hose plucked over your head and show the world what the +bird hath done to her own nest. + +ROSALIND. +O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many +fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath +an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal. + +CELIA. +Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs +out. + +ROSALIND. +No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, +conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that +abuses everyone’s eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how +deep I am in love. I’ll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight +of Orlando. I’ll go find a shadow and sigh till he come. + +CELIA. +And I’ll sleep. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Jaques and Lords, like foresters. + +JAQUES. +Which is he that killed the deer? + +FIRST LORD. +Sir, it was I. + +JAQUES. +Let’s present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror, and it would do +well to set the deer’s horns upon his head for a branch of victory. +Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? + +SECOND LORD. +Yes, sir. + +JAQUES. +Sing it. ’Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. + +SONG + +SECOND LORD. +[_Sings_.] + What shall he have that killed the deer? + His leather skin and horns to wear. + Then sing him home: + [_The rest shall bear this burden_.] + Take thou no scorn to wear the horn. + It was a crest ere thou wast born. + Thy father’s father wore it + And thy father bore it. + The horn, the horn, the lusty horn + Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Rosalind and Celia. + +ROSALIND. +How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? And here much Orlando. + +CELIA. +I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain he hath ta’en his bow +and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. + +Enter Silvius. + +Look who comes here. + +SILVIUS. +My errand is to you, fair youth. +My gentle Phoebe did bid me give you this. + +[_Giving a letter._] + +I know not the contents, but, as I guess +By the stern brow and waspish action +Which she did use as she was writing of it, +It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me, +I am but as a guiltless messenger. + +ROSALIND. +Patience herself would startle at this letter +And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all! +She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; +She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, +Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will, +Her love is not the hare that I do hunt. +Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, +This is a letter of your own device. + +SILVIUS. +No, I protest, I know not the contents. +Phoebe did write it. + +ROSALIND. +Come, come, you are a fool, +And turned into the extremity of love. +I saw her hand. She has a leathern hand, +A freestone-coloured hand. I verily did think +That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands. +She has a huswife’s hand—but that’s no matter. +I say she never did invent this letter; +This is a man’s invention, and his hand. + +SILVIUS. +Sure, it is hers. + +ROSALIND. +Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style, +A style for challengers. Why, she defies me, +Like Turk to Christian. Women’s gentle brain +Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, +Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect +Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? + +SILVIUS. +So please you, for I never heard it yet, +Yet heard too much of Phoebe’s cruelty. + +ROSALIND. +She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. + +[_Reads._] + + _Art thou god to shepherd turned, + That a maiden’s heart hath burned?_ +Can a woman rail thus? + +SILVIUS. +Call you this railing? + +ROSALIND. + _Why, thy godhead laid apart, + Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?_ +Did you ever hear such railing? + _Whiles the eye of man did woo me, + That could do no vengeance to me._ +Meaning me a beast. + _If the scorn of your bright eyne Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect - Would they work in mild aspect! - Whiles you chid me, I did love; - How then might your prayers move! - He that brings this love to the + Would they work in mild aspect? + Whiles you chid me, I did love, + How then might your prayers move? + He that brings this love to thee Little knows this love in me; And by him seal up thy mind, Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take - Of me and all that I can make; + Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my love deny, - And then I'll study how to die.' - SILVIUS. Call you this chiding? - CELIA. Alas, poor shepherd! - ROSALIND. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love - such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument, and play false - strains upon thee! Not to be endur'd! Well, go your way to her, - for I see love hath made thee tame snake, and say this to her- - that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, - I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a - true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. - Exit SILVIUS - - Enter OLIVER - - OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know, - Where in the purlieus of this forest stands - A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees? - CELIA. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom. - The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream - Left on your right hand brings you to the place. - But at this hour the house doth keep itself; - There's none within. - OLIVER. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, - Then should I know you by description- - Such garments, and such years: 'The boy is fair, - Of female favour, and bestows himself - Like a ripe sister; the woman low, - And browner than her brother.' Are not you - The owner of the house I did inquire for? - CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. - OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both; - And to that youth he calls his Rosalind - He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? - ROSALIND. I am. What must we understand by this? - OLIVER. Some of my shame; if you will know of me - What man I am, and how, and why, and where, - This handkercher was stain'd. - CELIA. I pray you, tell it. - OLIVER. When last the young Orlando parted from you, - He left a promise to return again - Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, - Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, - Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside, - And mark what object did present itself. - Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, - And high top bald with dry antiquity, - A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, - Lay sleeping on his back. About his neck - A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, - Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd - The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, - Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, - And with indented glides did slip away - Into a bush; under which bush's shade - A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, - Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, - When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis - The royal disposition of that beast - To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. - This seen, Orlando did approach the man, - And found it was his brother, his elder brother. - CELIA. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; - And he did render him the most unnatural - That liv'd amongst men. - OLIVER. And well he might so do, - For well I know he was unnatural. - ROSALIND. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, - Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? - OLIVER. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so; - But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, - And nature, stronger than his just occasion, - Made him give battle to the lioness, - Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling - From miserable slumber I awak'd. - CELIA. Are you his brother? - ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd? - CELIA. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? - OLIVER. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame - To tell you what I was, since my conversion - So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. - ROSALIND. But for the bloody napkin? - OLIVER. By and by. - When from the first to last, betwixt us two, - Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, - As how I came into that desert place- - In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke, - Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, - Committing me unto my brother's love; - Who led me instantly unto his cave, - There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm - The lioness had torn some flesh away, - Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, - And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. - Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound, - And, after some small space, being strong at heart, - He sent me hither, stranger as I am, - To tell this story, that you might excuse - His broken promise, and to give this napkin, - Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth - That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. - [ROSALIND swoons] - CELIA. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! - OLIVER. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. - CELIA. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! - OLIVER. Look, he recovers. - ROSALIND. I would I were at home. - CELIA. We'll lead you thither. - I pray you, will you take him by the arm? - OLIVER. Be of good cheer, youth. You a man! - You lack a man's heart. - ROSALIND. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think - this was well counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how - well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! - OLIVER. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in - your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. - ROSALIND. Counterfeit, I assure you. - OLIVER. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. - ROSALIND. So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by - right. - CELIA. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you draw homewards. - Good sir, go with us. - OLIVER. That will I, for I must bear answer back - How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. - ROSALIND. I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my - counterfeiting to him. Will you go? Exeunt - -ACT V. SCENE I. The forest - -Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY - - TOUCHSTONE. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. - AUDREY. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old - gentleman's saying. - TOUCHSTONE. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. - But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to - you. - AUDREY. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the - world; here comes the man you mean. - - Enter WILLIAM - - TOUCHSTONE. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, - we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be - flouting; we cannot hold. - WILLIAM. Good ev'n, Audrey. - AUDREY. God ye good ev'n, William. - WILLIAM. And good ev'n to you, sir. - TOUCHSTONE. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy - head; nay, prithee be cover'd. How old are you, friend? - WILLIAM. Five and twenty, sir. - TOUCHSTONE. A ripe age. Is thy name William? - WILLIAM. William, sir. - TOUCHSTONE. A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here? - WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I thank God. - TOUCHSTONE. 'Thank God.' A good answer. - Art rich? - WILLIAM. Faith, sir, so so. - TOUCHSTONE. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and - yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? - WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. - TOUCHSTONE. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying: 'The - fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be - a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a - grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning - thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do - love this maid? - WILLIAM. I do, sir. - TOUCHSTONE. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? - WILLIAM. No, sir. - TOUCHSTONE. Then learn this of me: to have is to have; for it is a - figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour'd out of cup into a - glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your - writers do consent that ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I - am he. - WILLIAM. Which he, sir? - TOUCHSTONE. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you - clown, abandon- which is in the vulgar leave- the society- which - in the boorish is company- of this female- which in the common is - woman- which together is: abandon the society of this female; or, - clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; - or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into - death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, - or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; - will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and - fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart. - AUDREY. Do, good William. - WILLIAM. God rest you merry, sir. Exit - - Enter CORIN - - CORIN. Our master and mistress seeks you; come away, away. - TOUCHSTONE. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. I attend, I attend. - Exeunt + And then I’ll study how to die._ + +SILVIUS. +Call you this chiding? + +CELIA. +Alas, poor shepherd. + +ROSALIND. +Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity.—Wilt thou love such a woman? +What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee? Not +to be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee +a tame snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to +love thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat +for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word, for here comes +more company. + +[_Exit Silvius._] + +Enter Oliver. + +OLIVER. +Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know, +Where in the purlieus of this forest stands +A sheepcote fenced about with olive trees? + +CELIA. +West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom; +The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, +Left on your right hand, brings you to the place. +But at this hour the house doth keep itself. +There’s none within. + +OLIVER. +If that an eye may profit by a tongue, +Then should I know you by description, +Such garments, and such years. “The boy is fair, +Of female favour, and bestows himself +Like a ripe sister; the woman low, +And browner than her brother.” Are not you +The owner of the house I did inquire for? + +CELIA. +It is no boast, being asked, to say we are. + +OLIVER. +Orlando doth commend him to you both, +And to that youth he calls his Rosalind +He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? + +ROSALIND. +I am. What must we understand by this? + +OLIVER. +Some of my shame, if you will know of me +What man I am, and how, and why, and where +This handkerchief was stained. + +CELIA. +I pray you tell it. + +OLIVER. +When last the young Orlando parted from you, +He left a promise to return again +Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, +Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, +Lo, what befell. He threw his eye aside, +And mark what object did present itself. +Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age +And high top bald with dry antiquity, +A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair, +Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck +A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, +Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached +The opening of his mouth. But suddenly, +Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself +And with indented glides did slip away +Into a bush; under which bush’s shade +A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, +Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch +When that the sleeping man should stir. For ’tis +The royal disposition of that beast +To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. +This seen, Orlando did approach the man +And found it was his brother, his elder brother. + +CELIA. +O, I have heard him speak of that same brother, +And he did render him the most unnatural +That lived amongst men. + +OLIVER. +And well he might so do, +For well I know he was unnatural. + +ROSALIND. +But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, +Food to the sucked and hungry lioness? + +OLIVER. +Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; +But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, +And nature, stronger than his just occasion, +Made him give battle to the lioness, +Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling +From miserable slumber I awaked. + +CELIA. +Are you his brother? + +ROSALIND. +Was it you he rescued? + +CELIA. +Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him? + +OLIVER. +’Twas I; but ’tis not I. I do not shame +To tell you what I was, since my conversion +So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. + +ROSALIND. +But, for the bloody napkin? + +OLIVER. +By and by. +When from the first to last betwixt us two +Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed— +As how I came into that desert place— +In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke, +Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, +Committing me unto my brother’s love, +Who led me instantly unto his cave, +There stripped himself, and here upon his arm +The lioness had torn some flesh away, +Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, +And cried in fainting upon Rosalind. +Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound, +And after some small space, being strong at heart, +He sent me hither, stranger as I am, +To tell this story, that you might excuse +His broken promise, and to give this napkin, +Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth +That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. + +[_Rosalind faints._] + +CELIA. +Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede! + +OLIVER. +Many will swoon when they do look on blood. + +CELIA. +There is more in it. Cousin—Ganymede! + +OLIVER. +Look, he recovers. + +ROSALIND. +I would I were at home. + +CELIA. +We’ll lead you thither. +I pray you, will you take him by the arm? + +OLIVER. +Be of good cheer, youth. You a man? You lack a man’s heart. + +ROSALIND. +I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well +counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited. +Heigh-ho. + +OLIVER. +This was not counterfeit. There is too great testimony in your +complexion that it was a passion of earnest. + +ROSALIND. +Counterfeit, I assure you. + +OLIVER. +Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man. + +ROSALIND. +So I do. But, i’ faith, I should have been a woman by right. + +CELIA. +Come, you look paler and paler. Pray you draw homewards. Good sir, go +with us. + +OLIVER. +That will I, for I must bear answer back +How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +I shall devise something. But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to +him. Will you go? + +[_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I. The Forest of Arden + + +Enter Touchstone and Audrey. + +TOUCHSTONE. +We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. + +AUDREY. +Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman’s saying. + +TOUCHSTONE. +A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But Audrey, +there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. + +AUDREY. +Ay, I know who ’tis. He hath no interest in me in the world. + +Enter William. + +Here comes the man you mean. + +TOUCHSTONE. +It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have +good wits have much to answer for. We shall be flouting; we cannot +hold. + +WILLIAM. +Good ev’n, Audrey. + +AUDREY. +God ye good ev’n, William. + +WILLIAM. +And good ev’n to you, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Good ev’n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee, +be covered. How old are you, friend? + +WILLIAM. +Five-and-twenty, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE. +A ripe age. Is thy name William? + +WILLIAM. +William, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE. +A fair name. Wast born i’ th’ forest here? + +WILLIAM. +Ay, sir, I thank God. + +TOUCHSTONE. +“Thank God.” A good answer. Art rich? + +WILLIAM. +Faith, sir, so-so. + +TOUCHSTONE. +“So-so” is good, very good, very excellent good. And yet it is not, it +is but so-so. Art thou wise? + +WILLIAM. +Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Why, thou sayst well. I do now remember a saying: “The fool doth think +he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” The heathen +philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips +when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby that grapes were made to +eat and lips to open. You do love this maid? + +WILLIAM. +I do, sir. -SCENE II. The forest - -Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER - - ORLANDO. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should - like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? - and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy - her? - OLIVER. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty - of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden - consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she - loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It - shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue - that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live - and die a shepherd. - ORLANDO. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow. - Thither will I invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go - you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. - - Enter ROSALIND - - ROSALIND. God save you, brother. - OLIVER. And you, fair sister. Exit - ROSALIND. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear - thy heart in a scarf! - ORLANDO. It is my arm. - ROSALIND. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a - lion. - ORLANDO. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. - ROSALIND. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon - when he show'd me your handkercher? - ORLANDO. Ay, and greater wonders than that. - ROSALIND. O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never - any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's - thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother - and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but - they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but - they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but - they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair - of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else - be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of - love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them. - ORLANDO. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke - to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into - happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I - to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I - shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. - ROSALIND. Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for - Rosalind? - ORLANDO. I can live no longer by thinking. - ROSALIND. I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know - of me then- for now I speak to some purpose- that I know you are - a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should - bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you - are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some - little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and - not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do - strange things. I have, since I was three year old, convers'd - with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. - If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries - it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I - know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not - impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set - her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any - danger. - ORLANDO. Speak'st thou in sober meanings? - ROSALIND. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I - am a magician. Therefore put you in your best array, bid your - friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to - Rosalind, if you will. - - Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE - - Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers. - PHEBE. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness - To show the letter that I writ to you. - ROSALIND. I care not if I have. It is my study - To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. - You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd; - Look upon him, love him; he worships you. - PHEBE. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of sighs and tears; - And so am I for Phebe. - PHEBE. And I for Ganymede. - ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind. - ROSALIND. And I for no woman. - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of faith and service; - And so am I for Phebe. - PHEBE. And I for Ganymede. - ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind. - ROSALIND. And I for no woman. - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of fantasy, - All made of passion, and all made of wishes; - All adoration, duty, and observance, - All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, - All purity, all trial, all obedience; - And so am I for Phebe. - PHEBE. And so am I for Ganymede. - ORLANDO. And so am I for Rosalind. - ROSALIND. And so am I for no woman. - PHEBE. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? - SILVIUS. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? - ORLANDO. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? - ROSALIND. Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?' - ORLANDO. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. - ROSALIND. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish - wolves against the moon. [To SILVIUS] I will help you if I can. - [To PHEBE] I would love you if I could.- To-morrow meet me all - together. [To PHEBE] I will marry you if ever I marry woman, - and I'll be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if - ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To - Silvius] I will content you if what pleases you contents you, and - you shall be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] As you love - Rosalind, meet. [To SILVIUS] As you love Phebe, meet;- and as I - love no woman, I'll meet. So, fare you well; I have left you - commands. - SILVIUS. I'll not fail, if I live. - PHEBE. Nor I. - ORLANDO. Nor I. Exeunt - -SCENE III. The forest - -Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY - - TOUCHSTONE. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audre'y; to-morrow will we - be married. - AUDREY. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no - dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come - two of the banish'd Duke's pages. - - Enter two PAGES - - FIRST PAGE. Well met, honest gentleman. - TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song. - SECOND PAGE. We are for you; sit i' th' middle. - FIRST PAGE. Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or - spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues - to a bad voice? - SECOND PAGE. I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies - on a horse. - - SONG. - It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - That o'er the green corn-field did pass - In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, +TOUCHSTONE. +Give me your hand. Art thou learned? + +WILLIAM. +No, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Then learn this of me: to have is to have. For it is a figure in +rhetoric that drink, being poured out of cup into a glass, by filling +the one doth empty the other. For all your writers do consent that +_ipse_ is “he.” Now, you are not _ipse_, for I am he. + +WILLIAM. +Which he, sir? + +TOUCHSTONE. +He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, +abandon—which is in the vulgar, “leave”—the society—which in the +boorish is “company”—of this female—which in the common is “woman”; +which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou +perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill +thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into +bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel. +I will bandy with thee in faction; will o’errun thee with policy. I +will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways! Therefore tremble and depart. + +AUDREY. +Do, good William. + +WILLIAM. +God rest you merry, sir. + +[_Exit._] + +Enter Corin. + +CORIN. +Our master and mistress seek you. Come away, away. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Orlando and Oliver. + +ORLANDO. +Is’t possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That +but seeing, you should love her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should +grant? And will you persever to enjoy her? + +OLIVER. +Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the +small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting. But +say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent +with both that we may enjoy each other. It shall be to your good, for +my father’s house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland’s will I +estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. + +Enter Rosalind. + +ORLANDO. +You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow. Thither will I +invite the Duke and all’s contented followers. Go you and prepare +Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +God save you, brother. + +OLIVER. +And you, fair sister. + +[_Exit._] + +ROSALIND. +O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a +scarf! + +ORLANDO. +It is my arm. + +ROSALIND. +I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. + +ORLANDO. +Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. + +ROSALIND. +Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed +me your handkercher? + +ORLANDO. +Ay, and greater wonders than that. + +ROSALIND. +O, I know where you are. Nay, ’tis true. There was never anything so +sudden but the fight of two rams, and Caesar’s thrasonical brag of “I +came, saw and overcame.” For your brother and my sister no sooner met +but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but +they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no +sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees +have they made pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb +incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage. They are in the +very wrath of love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them. + +ORLANDO. +They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. +But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another +man’s eyes! By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of +heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having +what he wishes for. + +ROSALIND. +Why, then, tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? + +ORLANDO. +I can live no longer by thinking. + +ROSALIND. +I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then—for +now I speak to some purpose—that I know you are a gentleman of good +conceit. I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my +knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are. Neither do I labour for a +greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, +to do yourself good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, +that I can do strange things. I have, since I was three year old, +conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not +damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture +cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I +know into what straits of fortune she is driven and it is not +impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her +before your eyes tomorrow, human as she is, and without any danger. + +ORLANDO. +Speak’st thou in sober meanings? + +ROSALIND. +By my life, I do, which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. +Therefore put you in your best array, bid your friends; for if you will +be married tomorrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. + +Enter Silvius and Phoebe. + +Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. + +PHOEBE. +Youth, you have done me much ungentleness +To show the letter that I writ to you. + +ROSALIND. +I care not if I have; it is my study +To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. +You are there followed by a faithful shepherd. +Look upon him, love him; he worships you. + +PHOEBE. +Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love. + +SILVIUS. +It is to be all made of sighs and tears, +And so am I for Phoebe. + +PHOEBE. +And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO. +And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS. +It is to be all made of faith and service, +And so am I for Phoebe. + +PHOEBE. +And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO. +And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS. +It is to be all made of fantasy, +All made of passion, and all made of wishes, +All adoration, duty, and observance, +All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, +All purity, all trial, all observance, +And so am I for Phoebe. + +PHOEBE. +And so am I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO. +And so am I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND. +And so am I for no woman. + +PHOEBE. +[_To Rosalind_.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +SILVIUS. +[_To Phoebe_.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +ORLANDO. +If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +ROSALIND. +Why do you speak too, “Why blame you me to love you?” + +ORLANDO. +To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. + +ROSALIND. +Pray you, no more of this, ’tis like the howling of Irish wolves +against the moon. +[_to Silvius_.] I will help you if I can. +[_to Phoebe_.] I would love you if I could.—Tomorrow meet me all +together. +[_to Phoebe_.] I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I’ll be +married tomorrow. +[_to Orlando_.] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfied man, and you +shall be married tomorrow. +[_to Silvius_.] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, +and you shall be married tomorrow. +[_to Orlando_.] As you love Rosalind, meet. +[_to Silvius_.] As you love Phoebe, meet.—And as I love no woman, I’ll +meet. So fare you well. I have left you commands. + +SILVIUS. +I’ll not fail, if I live. + +PHOEBE. +Nor I. + +ORLANDO. +Nor I. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Touchstone and Audrey. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey, tomorrow will we be married. + +AUDREY. +I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire +to desire to be a woman of the world. + +Enter two Pages. + +Here come two of the banished Duke’s pages. + +FIRST PAGE. +Well met, honest gentleman. + +TOUCHSTONE. +By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song. + +SECOND PAGE. +We are for you, sit i’ th’ middle. + +FIRST PAGE. +Shall we clap into’t roundly, without hawking or spitting or saying we +are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice? + +SECOND PAGE. +I’faith, i’faith, and both in a tune like two gipsies on a horse. + + SONG + +PAGES. +[_Sing_.] + It was a lover and his lass, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + That o’er the green cornfield did pass + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + Between the acres of the rye, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + These pretty country folks would lie, + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. - Sweet lovers love the spring. - - Between the acres of the rye, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - These pretty country folks would lie, - In the spring time, &c. - - This carol they began that hour, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - How that a life was but a flower, - In the spring time, &c. - - And therefore take the present time, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - For love is crowned with the prime, - In the spring time, &c. - - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great - matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. - FIRST PAGE. YOU are deceiv'd, sir; we kept time, we lost not our - time. - TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such - a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices. Come, - Audrey. Exeunt - -SCENE IV. The forest - -Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA - - DUKE SENIOR. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy - Can do all this that he hath promised? - ORLANDO. I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not: - As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. - - Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE - - ROSALIND. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd: - You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, - You will bestow her on Orlando here? - DUKE SENIOR. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. - ROSALIND. And you say you will have her when I bring her? - ORLANDO. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. - ROSALIND. You say you'll marry me, if I be willing? - PHEBE. That will I, should I die the hour after. - ROSALIND. But if you do refuse to marry me, - You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? - PHEBE. So is the bargain. - ROSALIND. You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will? - SILVIUS. Though to have her and death were both one thing. - ROSALIND. I have promis'd to make all this matter even. - Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter; - You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter; - Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, - Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd; - Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her - If she refuse me; and from hence I go, - To make these doubts all even. - Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA - DUKE SENIOR. I do remember in this shepherd boy - Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. - ORLANDO. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him - Methought he was a brother to your daughter. - But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, - And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments - Of many desperate studies by his uncle, - Whom he reports to be a great magician, - Obscured in the circle of this forest. - - Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY - - JAQUES. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are - coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts which - in all tongues are call'd fools. - TOUCHSTONE. Salutation and greeting to you all! - JAQUES. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded - gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a - courtier, he swears. - TOUCHSTONE. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. - I have trod a measure; I have flatt'red a lady; I have been - politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone - three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought - one. - JAQUES. And how was that ta'en up? - TOUCHSTONE. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the - seventh cause. - JAQUES. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. - DUKE SENIOR. I like him very well. - TOUCHSTONE. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in - here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear - and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A - poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a - poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that man else will. Rich - honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl - in your foul oyster. - DUKE SENIOR. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. - TOUCHSTONE. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet - diseases. - JAQUES. But, for the seventh cause: how did you find the quarrel on - the seventh cause? - TOUCHSTONE. Upon a lie seven times removed- bear your body more - seeming, Audrey- as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain - courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not - cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is call'd the Retort - Courteous. If I sent him word again it was not well cut, he would - send me word he cut it to please himself. This is call'd the Quip - Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment. - This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut, - he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof - Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This - is call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome. And so to the Lie - Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. - JAQUES. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? - TOUCHSTONE. I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor - he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords - and parted. - JAQUES. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? - TOUCHSTONE. O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book, as you have - books for good manners. I will name you the degrees. The first, - the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the - Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the - Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; - the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie - Direct; and you may avoid that too with an If. I knew when seven - justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were - met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as: 'If you - said so, then I said so.' And they shook hands, and swore - brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. - JAQUES. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? - He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. - DUKE SENIOR. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the - presentation of that he shoots his wit: - - Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA. Still MUSIC - - HYMEN. Then is there mirth in heaven, - When earthly things made even - Atone together. - Good Duke, receive thy daughter; - Hymen from heaven brought her, - Yea, brought her hither, - That thou mightst join her hand with his, - Whose heart within his bosom is. - ROSALIND. [To DUKE] To you I give myself, for I am yours. - [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours. - DUKE SENIOR. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. - ORLANDO. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. - PHEBE. If sight and shape be true, - Why then, my love adieu! - ROSALIND. I'll have no father, if you be not he; - I'll have no husband, if you be not he; - Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. - HYMEN. Peace, ho! I bar confusion; - 'Tis I must make conclusion - Of these most strange events. - Here's eight that must take hands - To join in Hymen's bands, - If truth holds true contents. - You and you no cross shall part; - You and you are heart in heart; - You to his love must accord, - Or have a woman to your lord; - You and you are sure together, - As the winter to foul weather. - Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, - Feed yourselves with questioning, - That reason wonder may diminish, - How thus we met, and these things finish. - - SONG - Wedding is great Juno's crown; - O blessed bond of board and bed! - 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; - High wedlock then be honoured. - Honour, high honour, and renown, - To Hymen, god of every town! - - DUKE SENIOR. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! - Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. - PHEBE. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; - Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. - - Enter JAQUES de BOYS - - JAQUES de BOYS. Let me have audience for a word or two. - I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, - That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. - Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day - Men of great worth resorted to this forest, - Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, - In his own conduct, purposely to take - His brother here, and put him to the sword; - And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, - Where, meeting with an old religious man, - After some question with him, was converted - Both from his enterprise and from the world; - His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, - And all their lands restor'd to them again - That were with him exil'd. This to be true - I do engage my life. - DUKE SENIOR. Welcome, young man. - Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: - To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, - A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. - First, in this forest let us do those ends - That here were well begun and well begot; - And after, every of this happy number, - That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, - Shall share the good of our returned fortune, - According to the measure of their states. - Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, - And fall into our rustic revelry. - Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all, - With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall. - JAQUES. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, - The Duke hath put on a religious life, - And thrown into neglect the pompous court. - JAQUES DE BOYS. He hath. - JAQUES. To him will I. Out of these convertites - There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. - [To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath; - Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. - [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit; - [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies - [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed; - [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage - Is but for two months victuall'd.- So to your pleasures; - I am for other than for dancing measures. - DUKE SENIOR. Stay, Jaques, stay. - JAQUES. To see no pastime I. What you would have - I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. Exit - DUKE SENIOR. Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites, - As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + This carol they began that hour, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + How that a life was but a flower, + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + And therefore take the present time, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + For love is crowned with the prime, + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. + Sweet lovers love the spring. + +TOUCHSTONE +Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, +yet the note was very untuneable. + +FIRST PAGE. +You are deceived, sir, we kept time, we lost not our time. + +TOUCHSTONE. +By my troth, yes. I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. +God be wi’ you, and God mend your voices. Come, Audrey. + +[_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest + +Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver and Celia. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy +Can do all this that he hath promised? + +ORLANDO. +I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not, +As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. + +Enter Rosalind, Silvius and Phoebe. + +ROSALIND. +Patience once more whiles our compact is urged. +[_To the Duke._] You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, +You will bestow her on Orlando here? + +DUKE SENIOR. +That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. + +ROSALIND. +[_To Orlando_.] And you say you will have her when I bring her? + +ORLANDO. +That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. + +ROSALIND. +[_To Phoebe_.] You say you’ll marry me if I be willing? + +PHOEBE. +That will I, should I die the hour after. + +ROSALIND. +But if you do refuse to marry me, +You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? + +PHOEBE. +So is the bargain. + +ROSALIND. +[_To Silvius_.] You say that you’ll have Phoebe if she will? + +SILVIUS. +Though to have her and death were both one thing. + +ROSALIND. +I have promised to make all this matter even. +Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter, +You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter. +Keep your word, Phoebe, that you’ll marry me, +Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd. +Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her +If she refuse me. And from hence I go +To make these doubts all even. + +[_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia._] + +DUKE SENIOR. +I do remember in this shepherd boy +Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour. + +ORLANDO. +My lord, the first time that I ever saw him +Methought he was a brother to your daughter. +But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born +And hath been tutored in the rudiments +Of many desperate studies by his uncle, +Whom he reports to be a great magician, +Obscured in the circle of this forest. + +Enter Touchstone and Audrey. + +JAQUES. +There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the +ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are +called fools. + +TOUCHSTONE. +Salutation and greeting to you all. + +JAQUES. +Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman that +I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he swears. + +TOUCHSTONE. +If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a +measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, +smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four +quarrels, and like to have fought one. + +JAQUES. +And how was that ta’en up? + +TOUCHSTONE. +Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. + +JAQUES. +How seventh cause?—Good my lord, like this fellow? + +DUKE SENIOR. +I like him very well. + +TOUCHSTONE. +God ’ild you, sir, I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, +amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear +according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an +ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to +take that that no man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, +in a poor house, as your pearl in your foul oyster. + +DUKE SENIOR. +By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. + +TOUCHSTONE. +According to the fool’s bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. + +JAQUES. +But, for the seventh cause. How did you find the quarrel on the seventh +cause? + +TOUCHSTONE. +Upon a lie seven times removed—bear your body more seeming, Audrey—as +thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier’s beard. He sent +me word if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it +was. This is called the “retort courteous”. If I sent him word again it +was not well cut, he would send me word he cut it to please himself. +This is called the “quip modest”. If again it was not well cut, he +disabled my judgement. This is called the “reply churlish”. If again it +was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true. This is called the +“reproof valiant”. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. +This is called the “countercheck quarrelsome”, and so, to the “lie +circumstantial”, and the “lie direct”. + +JAQUES. +And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? + +TOUCHSTONE. +I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial, nor he durst not +give me the lie direct; and so we measured swords and parted. + +JAQUES. +Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? + +TOUCHSTONE. +O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as you have books for good +manners. I will name you the degrees: the first, the retort courteous; +the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, +the reproof valiant; the fifth, the countercheck quarrelsome; the +sixth, the lie with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All +these you may avoid but the lie direct and you may avoid that too with +an “if”. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but +when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an +“if”, as, “if you said so, then I said so;” and they shook hands, and +swore brothers. Your “if” is the only peacemaker; much virtue in “if.” + +JAQUES. +Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He’s as good at anything, and yet a +fool. + +DUKE SENIOR. +He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of +that he shoots his wit. + +Enter Hymen, Rosalind in woman’s clothes, and Celia. Still music. + +HYMEN. + Then is there mirth in heaven + When earthly things made even + Atone together. + Good Duke, receive thy daughter. + Hymen from heaven brought her, + Yea, brought her hither, + That thou mightst join her hand with his, + Whose heart within his bosom is. + +ROSALIND. +[_To Duke Senior_.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. +[_To Orlando_.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. + +DUKE SENIOR. +If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. + +ORLANDO. +If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. + +PHOEBE. +If sight and shape be true, +Why then, my love adieu. + +ROSALIND. +[_To Duke Senior_.] I’ll have no father, if you be not he. +[_To Orlando_.] I’ll have no husband, if you be not he. +[_To Phoebe_.] Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she. + +HYMEN. + Peace, ho! I bar confusion. + ’Tis I must make conclusion + Of these most strange events. + Here’s eight that must take hands + To join in Hymen’s bands, + If truth holds true contents. +[_To Orlando and Rosalind_.] You and you no cross shall part. +[_To Celia and Oliver_.] You and you are heart in heart. +[_To Phoebe_.] You to his love must accord +Or have a woman to your lord. +[_To Audrey and Touchstone_.] You and you are sure together +As the winter to foul weather. +Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing, +Feed yourselves with questioning, +That reason wonder may diminish +How thus we met, and these things finish. + + SONG + Wedding is great Juno’s crown, + O blessed bond of board and bed. + ’Tis Hymen peoples every town, + High wedlock then be honoured. + Honour, high honour, and renown + To Hymen, god of every town. + +DUKE SENIOR. +O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me +Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. + +PHOEBE. +[_To Silvius_.] I will not eat my word, now thou art mine, +Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. + +Enter Jaques de Boys. + +JAQUES DE BOYS. +Let me have audience for a word or two. +I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, +That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. +Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day +Men of great worth resorted to this forest, +Addressed a mighty power, which were on foot +In his own conduct, purposely to take +His brother here and put him to the sword; +And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, +Where, meeting with an old religious man, +After some question with him, was converted +Both from his enterprise and from the world, +His crown bequeathing to his banished brother, +And all their lands restored to them again +That were with him exiled. This to be true +I do engage my life. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Welcome, young man. +Thou offer’st fairly to thy brother’s wedding: +To one his lands withheld, and to the other +A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. +First, in this forest let us do those ends +That here were well begun and well begot; +And after, every of this happy number +That have endured shrewd days and nights with us +Shall share the good of our returned fortune, +According to the measure of their states. +Meantime, forget this new-fall’n dignity, +And fall into our rustic revelry. +Play, music! And you brides and bridegrooms all, +With measure heaped in joy to th’ measures fall. + +JAQUES. +Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, +The Duke hath put on a religious life +And thrown into neglect the pompous court. + +JAQUES DE BOYS. +He hath. + +JAQUES. +To him will I. Out of these convertites +There is much matter to be heard and learned. +[_To Duke Senior_.] You to your former honour I bequeath; +Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. +[_To Orlando_.] You to a love that your true faith doth merit. +[_To Oliver_.] You to your land, and love, and great allies. +[_To Silvius_.] You to a long and well-deserved bed. +[_To Touchstone_.] And you to wrangling, for thy loving voyage +Is but for two months victualled.—So to your pleasures, +I am for other than for dancing measures. + +DUKE SENIOR. +Stay, Jaques, stay. + +JAQUES. +To see no pastime, I. What you would have +I’ll stay to know at your abandoned cave. + +[_Exit._] + +DUKE SENIOR. +Proceed, proceed! We will begin these rites, +As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights. + +[_Dance. Exeunt all but Rosalind._] EPILOGUE - EPILOGUE. - ROSALIND. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but - it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it - be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play - needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and - good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a - case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot - insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not - furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My - way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge - you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of - this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love - you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you - hates them- that between you and the women the play may please. - If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that - pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defied - not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, - or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, - bid me farewell. + +ROSALIND. +It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue, but it is no more +unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good +wine needs no bush, ’tis true that a good play needs no epilogue. Yet +to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better +by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am +neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of +a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar; therefore to beg will +not become me. My way is to conjure you, and I’ll begin with the women. +I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of +this play as please you. And I charge you, O men, for the love you bear +to women—as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them—that +between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman, I +would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions +that liked me, and breaths that I defied not. And I am sure as many as +have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths will for my kind +offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. + +[_Exit._] + @@ -17259,6 +18905,7 @@ THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + Contents ACT I Binary files differBinary files differdiff --git a/100-h/100-h.htm b/100-h/100-h.htm index 97c51f7..7218143 100644 --- a/100-h/100-h.htm +++ b/100-h/100-h.htm @@ -92,7 +92,7 @@ country where you are located before using this eBook. <div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare</div> <div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William Shakespeare</div> <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 1994 [eBook #100]<br /> -[Most recently updated: April 10, 2023]</div> +[Most recently updated: April 22, 2023]</div> <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> <div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ***</div> @@ -19901,2927 +19901,6239 @@ High order in this great solemnity. <h2><a name="chap04"></a>AS YOU LIKE IT</h2> -<h4>DRAMATIS PERSONAE.</h4> +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> ACT I</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneI_4.1">Scene I. An Orchard near Oliver’s house</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneI_4.2">Scene II. A Lawn before the Duke’s Palace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneI_4.3">Scene III. A Room in the Palace</a><br/><br/></td> +</tr> + + +<tr> +<td> ACT II</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.1">Scene I. The Forest of Arden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.2">Scene II. A Room in the Palace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.3">Scene III. Before Oliver’s House</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.4">Scene IV. The Forest of Arden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.5">Scene V. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.6">Scene VI. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneII_4.7">Scene VII. Another part of the Forest</a><br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ACT III</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIII_4.1">Scene I. A Room in the Palace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIII_4.2">Scene II. The Forest of Arden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIII_4.3">Scene III. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIII_4.4">Scene IV. Another part of the Forest. Before a Cottage</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIII_4.5">Scene V. Another part of the Forest</a><br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ACT IV</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIV_4.1">Scene I. The Forest of Arden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIV_4.2">Scene II. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneIV_4.3">Scene III. Another part of the Forest</a><br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ACT V</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneV_4.1">Scene I. The Forest of Arden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneV_4.2">Scene II. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneV_4.3">Scene III. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneV_4.4">Scene IV. Another part of the Forest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#sceneV_4.5">Epilogue</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> -<p> DUKE, living in exile<br/> - FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions<br/> - AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke<br/> - JAQUES, " " " " " "<br/> - LE BEAU, a courtier attending upon Frederick<br/> - CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick<br/> - OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys<br/> - JAQUES, " " " " " "<br/> - ORLANDO, " " " " " "<br/> - ADAM, servant to Oliver<br/> - DENNIS, " " "<br/> - TOUCHSTONE, the court jester<br/> - SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar<br/> - CORIN, shepherd<br/> - SILVIUS, "<br/> - WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey<br/> - A person representing HYMEN<br/> +<h3>Dramatis Personæ</h3> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO, youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys<br/> +OLIVER, eldest son of Sir Rowland de Boys<br/> +JAQUES DE BOYS, second son of Sir Rowland de Boys<br/> +ADAM, Servant to Oliver<br/> +DENNIS, Servant to Oliver </p> -<p> ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke<br/> - CELIA, daughter to Frederick<br/> - PHEBE, a shepherdes<br/> - AUDREY, a country wench<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND, Daughter of Duke Senior<br/> +CELIA, Daughter of Duke Frederick<br/> +TOUCHSTONE, a Clown </p> -<p> Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants</p> +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR (Ferdinand), living in exile +</p> -<h4>SCENE: -OLIVER'S house; FREDERICK'S court; and the Forest of Arden</h4> +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES, Lord attending on the Duke Senior<br/> +AMIENS, Lord attending on the Duke Senior +</p> -<h4>ACT I. SCENE I. -Orchard of OLIVER'S house</h4> - -<p>Enter ORLANDO and ADAM</p> - -<p> ORLANDO. As I remember, Adam, it was upon -this fashion bequeathed - me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, - charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there - begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and - report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me - rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at - home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my - birth that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are - bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, - they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly - hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for - the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him - as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the - something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from - me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a - brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my - education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of - my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against - this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no - wise remedy how to avoid it.</p> - -<p> Enter OLIVER</p> - -<p> ADAM. Yonder comes my master, your brother.<br/> - ORLANDO. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me<br/> - up. [ADAM retires]<br/> - OLIVER. Now, sir! what make you here?<br/> - ORLANDO. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing.<br/> - OLIVER. What mar you then, sir?<br/> - ORLANDO. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a<br/> - poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.<br/> - OLIVER. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile.<br/> - ORLANDO. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What<br/> - prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury?<br/> - OLIVER. Know you where you are, sir?<br/> - ORLANDO. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.<br/> - OLIVER. Know you before whom, sir?<br/> - ORLANDO. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are<br/> - my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you<br/> - should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better<br/> - in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not<br/> - away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as<br/> - much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming<br/> - before me is nearer to his reverence.<br/> - OLIVER. What, boy! [Strikes him]<br/> - ORLANDO. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.<br/> - OLIVER. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?<br/> - ORLANDO. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de<br/> - Boys. He was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such<br/> - a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not<br/> - take this hand from thy throat till this other had pull'd out thy<br/> - tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself.<br/> - ADAM. [Coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's<br/> - remembrance, be at accord.<br/> - OLIVER. Let me go, I say.<br/> - ORLANDO. I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father<br/> - charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have<br/> - train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all<br/> - gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in<br/> - me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such<br/> - exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor<br/> - allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy<br/> - my fortunes.<br/> - OLIVER. And what wilt thou do? Beg, when that is spent? Well, sir,<br/> - get you in. I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have<br/> - some part of your will. I pray you leave me.<br/> - ORLANDO. I no further offend you than becomes me for my good.<br/> - OLIVER. Get you with him, you old dog.<br/> - ADAM. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in<br/> - your service. God be with my old master! He would not have spoke<br/> - such a word.<br/> - Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM<br/> - OLIVER. Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic<br/> - your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla,<br/> - Dennis!<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter DENNIS</p> - -<p> DENNIS. Calls your worship?<br/> - OLIVER. not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?<br/> - DENNIS. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access<br/> - to you.<br/> - OLIVER. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and<br/> - to-morrow the wrestling is.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CHARLES</p> - -<p> CHARLES. Good morrow to your worship.<br/> - OLIVER. Good Monsieur Charles! What's the new news at the new<br/> - court?<br/> - CHARLES. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that<br/> - is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke;<br/> - and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary<br/> - exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke;<br/> - therefore he gives them good leave to wander.<br/> - OLIVER. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished<br/> - with her father?<br/> - CHARLES. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her,<br/> - being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have<br/> - followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at<br/> - the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own<br/> - daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.<br/> - OLIVER. Where will the old Duke live?<br/> - CHARLES. They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many<br/> - merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood<br/> - of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day,<br/> - and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.<br/> - OLIVER. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?<br/> - CHARLES. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a<br/> - matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger<br/> - brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against<br/> - me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he<br/> - that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well.<br/> - Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would<br/> - be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come<br/> - in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint<br/> - you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment,<br/> - or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is<br/> - thing of his own search and altogether against my will.<br/> - OLIVER. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt<br/> - find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my<br/> - brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to<br/> - dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee,<br/> - Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of<br/> - ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret<br/> - and villainous contriver against me his natural brother.<br/> - Therefore use thy discretion: I had as lief thou didst break his<br/> - neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou<br/> - dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace<br/> - himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap<br/> - thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he<br/> - hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I<br/> - assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one<br/> - so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly<br/> - of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush<br/> - and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.<br/> - CHARLES. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come<br/> - to-morrow I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again,<br/> - I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship!<br/> - Exit<br/> - OLIVER. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I<br/> - hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why,<br/> - hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd and<br/> - yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly<br/> - beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and<br/> - especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am<br/> - altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler<br/> - shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy<br/> - thither, which now I'll go about. Exit<br/> +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK, Brother to the Duke, and Usurper of his Dominions<br/> +CHARLES, his Wrestler<br/> +LE BEAU, a Courtier attending upon Frederick </p> -<h4>SCENE II. -A lawn before the DUKE'S palace</h4> - -<p>Enter ROSALIND and CELIA</p> - -<p> CELIA. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.<br/> - ROSALIND. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and<br/> - would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget<br/> - a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any<br/> - extraordinary pleasure.<br/> - CELIA. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I<br/> - love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy<br/> - uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I<br/> - could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst<br/> - thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd<br/> - as mine is to thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to<br/> - rejoice in yours.<br/> - CELIA. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to<br/> - have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what<br/> - he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee<br/> - again in affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that<br/> - oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear<br/> - Rose, be merry.<br/> - ROSALIND. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports.<br/> - Let me see; what think you of falling in love?<br/> - CELIA. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man<br/> - in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety<br/> - of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.<br/> - ROSALIND. What shall be our sport, then?<br/> - CELIA. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her<br/> - wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.<br/> - ROSALIND. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily<br/> - misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her<br/> - gifts to women.<br/> - CELIA. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes<br/> - honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very<br/> - ill-favouredly.<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's:<br/> - Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of<br/> - Nature.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter TOUCHSTONE</p> - -<p> CELIA. No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by<br/> - Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to<br/> - flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off<br/> - the argument?<br/> - ROSALIND. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when<br/> - Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit.<br/> - CELIA. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but<br/> - Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of<br/> - such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for<br/> - always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How<br/> - now, wit! Whither wander you?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Mistress, you must come away to your father.<br/> - CELIA. Were you made the messenger?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.<br/> - ROSALIND. Where learned you that oath, fool?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were<br/> - good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught.<br/> - Now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard<br/> - was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.<br/> - CELIA. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear<br/> - by your beards that I am a knave.<br/> - CELIA. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you<br/> - swear by that that not, you are not forsworn; no more was this<br/> - knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he<br/> - had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or<br/> - that mustard.<br/> - CELIA. Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.<br/> - CELIA. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough, speak no<br/> - more of him; you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise<br/> - men do foolishly.<br/> - CELIA. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that<br/> - fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have<br/> - makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter LE BEAU</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. With his mouth full of news.<br/> - CELIA. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.<br/> - ROSALIND. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.<br/> - CELIA. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour,<br/> - Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news?<br/> - LE BEAU. Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport.<br/> - CELIA. Sport! of what colour?<br/> - LE BEAU. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?<br/> - ROSALIND. As wit and fortune will.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Or as the Destinies decrees.<br/> - CELIA. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Nay, if I keep not my rank-<br/> - ROSALIND. Thou losest thy old smell.<br/> - LE BEAU. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good<br/> - wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.<br/> - ROSALIND. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.<br/> - LE BEAU. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your<br/> - ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and<br/> - here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.<br/> - CELIA. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.<br/> - LE BEAU. There comes an old man and his three sons-<br/> - CELIA. I could match this beginning with an old tale.<br/> - LE BEAU. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.<br/> - ROSALIND. With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by<br/> - these presents'-<br/> - LE BEAU. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's<br/> - wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of<br/> - his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him. So he serv'd<br/> - the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man,<br/> - their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the<br/> - beholders take his part with weeping.<br/> - ROSALIND. Alas!<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have<br/> - lost?<br/> - LE BEAU. Why, this that I speak of.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time<br/> - that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.<br/> - CELIA. Or I, I promise thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in<br/> - his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we<br/> - see this wrestling, cousin?<br/> - LE BEAU. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place<br/> - appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.<br/> - CELIA. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, ORLANDO,<br/> - CHARLES, and ATTENDANTS<br/> -</p> - -<p> FREDERICK. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own<br/> - peril on his forwardness.<br/> - ROSALIND. Is yonder the man?<br/> - LE BEAU. Even he, madam.<br/> - CELIA. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully.<br/> - FREDERICK. How now, daughter and cousin! Are you crept hither to<br/> - see the wrestling?<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave.<br/> - FREDERICK. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you,<br/> - there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger's youth<br/> - I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to<br/> - him, ladies; see if you can move him.<br/> - CELIA. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.<br/> - FREDERICK. Do so; I'll not be by.<br/> - [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart]<br/> - LE BEAU. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.<br/> - ORLANDO. I attend them with all respect and duty.<br/> - ROSALIND. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler?<br/> - ORLANDO. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I come<br/> - but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.<br/> - CELIA. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years.<br/> - You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength; if you saw<br/> - yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the<br/> - fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal<br/> - enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own<br/> - safety and give over this attempt.<br/> - ROSALIND. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be<br/> - misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the<br/> - wrestling might not go forward.<br/> - ORLANDO. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts,<br/> - wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent<br/> - ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go<br/> - with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one<br/> - sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is<br/> - willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none<br/> - to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only<br/> - in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when<br/> - I have made it empty.<br/> - ROSALIND. The little strength that I have, I would it were with<br/> - you.<br/> - CELIA. And mine to eke out hers.<br/> - ROSALIND. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you!<br/> - CELIA. Your heart's desires be with you!<br/> - CHARLES. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to<br/> - lie with his mother earth?<br/> - ORLANDO. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.<br/> - FREDERICK. You shall try but one fall.<br/> - CHARLES. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a<br/> - second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.<br/> - ORLANDO. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me<br/> - before; but come your ways.<br/> - ROSALIND. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man!<br/> - CELIA. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the<br/> - leg. [They wrestle]<br/> - ROSALIND. O excellent young man!<br/> - CELIA. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should<br/> - down.<br/> - [CHARLES is thrown. Shout]<br/> - FREDERICK. No more, no more.<br/> - ORLANDO. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd.<br/> - FREDERICK. How dost thou, Charles?<br/> - LE BEAU. He cannot speak, my lord.<br/> - FREDERICK. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?<br/> - ORLANDO. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de<br/> - Boys.<br/> - FREDERICK. I would thou hadst been son to some man else.<br/> - The world esteem'd thy father honourable,<br/> - But I did find him still mine enemy.<br/> - Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed,<br/> - Hadst thou descended from another house.<br/> - But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;<br/> - I would thou hadst told me of another father.<br/> - Exeunt DUKE, train, and LE BEAU<br/> - CELIA. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?<br/> - ORLANDO. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,<br/> - His youngest son- and would not change that calling<br/> - To be adopted heir to Frederick.<br/> - ROSALIND. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul,<br/> - And all the world was of my father's mind;<br/> - Had I before known this young man his son,<br/> - I should have given him tears unto entreaties<br/> - Ere he should thus have ventur'd.<br/> - CELIA. Gentle cousin,<br/> - Let us go thank him, and encourage him;<br/> - My father's rough and envious disposition<br/> - Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd;<br/> - If you do keep your promises in love<br/> - But justly as you have exceeded all promise,<br/> - Your mistress shall be happy.<br/> - ROSALIND. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck]<br/> - Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune,<br/> - That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.<br/> - Shall we go, coz?<br/> - CELIA. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.<br/> - ORLANDO. Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts<br/> - Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up<br/> - Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.<br/> - ROSALIND. He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes;<br/> - I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?<br/> - Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown<br/> - More than your enemies.<br/> - CELIA. Will you go, coz?<br/> - ROSALIND. Have with you. Fare you well.<br/> - Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA<br/> - ORLANDO. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?<br/> - I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.<br/> - O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!<br/> - Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Re-enter LE BEAU</p> - -<p> LE BEAU. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you<br/> - To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd<br/> - High commendation, true applause, and love,<br/> - Yet such is now the Duke's condition<br/> - That he misconstrues all that you have done.<br/> - The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,<br/> - More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.<br/> - ORLANDO. I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this:<br/> - Which of the two was daughter of the Duke<br/> - That here was at the wrestling?<br/> - LE BEAU. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;<br/> - But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter;<br/> - The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,<br/> - And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,<br/> - To keep his daughter company; whose loves<br/> - Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.<br/> - But I can tell you that of late this Duke<br/> - Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece,<br/> - Grounded upon no other argument<br/> - But that the people praise her for her virtues<br/> - And pity her for her good father's sake;<br/> - And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady<br/> - Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well.<br/> - Hereafter, in a better world than this,<br/> - I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.<br/> - ORLANDO. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well.<br/> - Exit LE BEAU<br/> - Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;<br/> - From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother.<br/> - But heavenly Rosalind! Exit<br/> +<p class="drama"> +CORIN, Shepherd<br/> +SILVIUS, Shepherd<br/> +PHOEBE, a Shepherdess<br/> +AUDREY, a Country Wench<br/> +WILLIAM, a Country Fellow, in love with Audrey<br/> +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a Vicar </p> -<h4>SCENE III. -The DUKE's palace</h4> - -<p>Enter CELIA and ROSALIND</p> - -<p> CELIA. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy!<br/> - Not a word?<br/> - ROSALIND. Not one to throw at a dog.<br/> - CELIA. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs;<br/> - throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.<br/> - ROSALIND. Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should<br/> - be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any.<br/> - CELIA. But is all this for your father?<br/> - ROSALIND. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of<br/> - briers is this working-day world!<br/> - CELIA. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday<br/> - foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats<br/> - will catch them.<br/> - ROSALIND. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my<br/> - heart.<br/> - CELIA. Hem them away.<br/> - ROSALIND. I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him.<br/> - CELIA. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.<br/> - ROSALIND. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.<br/> - CELIA. O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of<br/> - a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in<br/> - good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall<br/> - into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?<br/> - ROSALIND. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly.<br/> - CELIA. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly?<br/> - By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his<br/> - father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.<br/> - ROSALIND. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.<br/> - CELIA. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I<br/> - do. Look, here comes the Duke.<br/> - CELIA. With his eyes full of anger.<br/> - FREDERICK. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,<br/> - And get you from our court.<br/> - ROSALIND. Me, uncle?<br/> - FREDERICK. You, cousin.<br/> - Within these ten days if that thou beest found<br/> - So near our public court as twenty miles,<br/> - Thou diest for it.<br/> - ROSALIND. I do beseech your Grace,<br/> - Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me.<br/> - If with myself I hold intelligence,<br/> - Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;<br/> - If that I do not dream, or be not frantic-<br/> - As I do trust I am not- then, dear uncle,<br/> - Never so much as in a thought unborn<br/> - Did I offend your Highness.<br/> - FREDERICK. Thus do all traitors;<br/> - If their purgation did consist in words,<br/> - They are as innocent as grace itself.<br/> - Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.<br/> - ROSALIND. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.<br/> - Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.<br/> - FREDERICK. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.<br/> - ROSALIND. SO was I when your Highness took his dukedom;<br/> - So was I when your Highness banish'd him.<br/> - Treason is not inherited, my lord;<br/> - Or, if we did derive it from our friends,<br/> - What's that to me? My father was no traitor.<br/> - Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much<br/> - To think my poverty is treacherous.<br/> - CELIA. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.<br/> - FREDERICK. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,<br/> - Else had she with her father rang'd along.<br/> - CELIA. I did not then entreat to have her stay;<br/> - It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;<br/> - I was too young that time to value her,<br/> - But now I know her. If she be a traitor,<br/> - Why so am I: we still have slept together,<br/> - Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;<br/> - And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,<br/> - Still we went coupled and inseparable.<br/> - FREDERICK. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,<br/> - Her very silence and her patience,<br/> - Speak to the people, and they pity her.<br/> - Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name;<br/> - And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous<br/> - When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.<br/> - Firm and irrevocable is my doom<br/> - Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.<br/> - CELIA. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege;<br/> - I cannot live out of her company.<br/> - FREDERICK. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself.<br/> - If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,<br/> - And in the greatness of my word, you die.<br/> - Exeunt DUKE and LORDS<br/> - CELIA. O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go?<br/> - Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.<br/> - I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.<br/> - ROSALIND. I have more cause.<br/> - CELIA. Thou hast not, cousin.<br/> - Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke<br/> - Hath banish'd me, his daughter?<br/> - ROSALIND. That he hath not.<br/> - CELIA. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love<br/> - Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.<br/> - Shall we be sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl?<br/> - No; let my father seek another heir.<br/> - Therefore devise with me how we may fly,<br/> - Whither to go, and what to bear with us;<br/> - And do not seek to take your charge upon you,<br/> - To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;<br/> - For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,<br/> - Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why, whither shall we go?<br/> - CELIA. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.<br/> - ROSALIND. Alas, what danger will it be to us,<br/> - Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!<br/> - Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.<br/> - CELIA. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,<br/> - And with a kind of umber smirch my face;<br/> - The like do you; so shall we pass along,<br/> - And never stir assailants.<br/> - ROSALIND. Were it not better,<br/> - Because that I am more than common tall,<br/> - That I did suit me all points like a man?<br/> - A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,<br/> - A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart<br/> - Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-<br/> - We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,<br/> - As many other mannish cowards have<br/> - That do outface it with their semblances.<br/> - CELIA. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?<br/> - ROSALIND. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page,<br/> - And therefore look you call me Ganymede.<br/> - But what will you be call'd?<br/> - CELIA. Something that hath a reference to my state:<br/> - No longer Celia, but Aliena.<br/> - ROSALIND. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal<br/> - The clownish fool out of your father's court?<br/> - Would he not be a comfort to our travel?<br/> - CELIA. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;<br/> - Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,<br/> - And get our jewels and our wealth together;<br/> - Devise the fittest time and safest way<br/> - To hide us from pursuit that will be made<br/> - After my flight. Now go we in content<br/> - To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +A person representing HYMEN </p> -<h4>ACT II. SCENE I. -The Forest of Arden</h4> - -<p>Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS, like foresters</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,<br/> - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet<br/> - Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods<br/> - More free from peril than the envious court?<br/> - Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,<br/> - The seasons' difference; as the icy fang<br/> - And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,<br/> - Which when it bites and blows upon my body,<br/> - Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say<br/> - 'This is no flattery; these are counsellors<br/> - That feelingly persuade me what I am.'<br/> - Sweet are the uses of adversity,<br/> - Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,<br/> - Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;<br/> - And this our life, exempt from public haunt,<br/> - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,<br/> - Sermons in stones, and good in everything.<br/> - I would not change it.<br/> - AMIENS. Happy is your Grace,<br/> - That can translate the stubbornness of fortune<br/> - Into so quiet and so sweet a style.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?<br/> - And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,<br/> - Being native burghers of this desert city,<br/> - Should, in their own confines, with forked heads<br/> - Have their round haunches gor'd.<br/> - FIRST LORD. Indeed, my lord,<br/> - The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;<br/> - And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp<br/> - Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.<br/> - To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself<br/> - Did steal behind him as he lay along<br/> - Under an oak whose antique root peeps out<br/> - Upon the brook that brawls along this wood!<br/> - To the which place a poor sequest'red stag,<br/> - That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,<br/> - Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,<br/> - The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans<br/> - That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat<br/> - Almost to bursting; and the big round tears<br/> - Cours'd one another down his innocent nose<br/> - In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,<br/> - Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,<br/> - Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook,<br/> - Augmenting it with tears.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. But what said Jaques?<br/> - Did he not moralize this spectacle?<br/> - FIRST LORD. O, yes, into a thousand similes.<br/> - First, for his weeping into the needless stream:<br/> - 'Poor deer,' quoth he 'thou mak'st a testament<br/> - As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more<br/> - To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone,<br/> - Left and abandoned of his velvet friends:<br/> - ''Tis right'; quoth he 'thus misery doth part<br/> - The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd,<br/> - Full of the pasture, jumps along by him<br/> - And never stays to greet him. 'Ay,' quoth Jaques<br/> - 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;<br/> - 'Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look<br/> - Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'<br/> - Thus most invectively he pierceth through<br/> - The body of the country, city, court,<br/> - Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we<br/> - Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,<br/> - To fright the animals, and to kill them up<br/> - In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. And did you leave him in this contemplation?<br/> - SECOND LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting<br/> - Upon the sobbing deer.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Show me the place;<br/> - I love to cope him in these sullen fits,<br/> - For then he's full of matter.<br/> - FIRST LORD. I'll bring you to him straight. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Foresters, and other Attendants. </p> -<h4>SCENE II. -The DUKE'S palace</h4> +<h3><b>The scene lies first near Oliver’s house; afterwards partly in the +Usurper’s court and partly in the Forest of Arden.</b></h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> -<p>Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS</p> - -<p> FREDERICK. Can it be possible that no man saw them?<br/> - It cannot be; some villains of my court<br/> - Are of consent and sufferance in this.<br/> - FIRST LORD. I cannot hear of any that did see her.<br/> - The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,<br/> - Saw her abed, and in the morning early<br/> - They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.<br/> - SECOND LORD. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft<br/> - Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.<br/> - Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman,<br/> - Confesses that she secretly o'erheard<br/> - Your daughter and her cousin much commend<br/> - The parts and graces of the wrestler<br/> - That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;<br/> - And she believes, wherever they are gone,<br/> - That youth is surely in their company.<br/> - FREDERICK. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither.<br/> - If he be absent, bring his brother to me;<br/> - I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly;<br/> - And let not search and inquisition quail<br/> - To bring again these foolish runaways. Exeunt<br/> +<h2><a name="sceneI_4.1"></a><b>ACT I</b></h2> + +<h3><b>SCENE I. An Orchard near Oliver’s house</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Adam</span>. </p> -<h4>SCENE III. -Before OLIVER'S house</h4> - -<p>Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting</p> - -<p> ORLANDO. Who's there?<br/> - ADAM. What, my young master? O my gentle master!<br/> - O my sweet master! O you memory<br/> - Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here?<br/> - Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?<br/> - And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?<br/> - Why would you be so fond to overcome<br/> - The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke?<br/> - Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.<br/> - Know you not, master, to some kind of men<br/> - Their graces serve them but as enemies?<br/> - No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,<br/> - Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.<br/> - O, what a world is this, when what is comely<br/> - Envenoms him that bears it!<br/> - ORLANDO. Why, what's the matter?<br/> - ADAM. O unhappy youth!<br/> - Come not within these doors; within this roof<br/> - The enemy of all your graces lives.<br/> - Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son-<br/> - Yet not the son; I will not call him son<br/> - Of him I was about to call his father-<br/> - Hath heard your praises; and this night he means<br/> - To burn the lodging where you use to lie,<br/> - And you within it. If he fail of that,<br/> - He will have other means to cut you off;<br/> - I overheard him and his practices.<br/> - This is no place; this house is but a butchery;<br/> - Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.<br/> - ORLANDO. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?<br/> - ADAM. No matter whither, so you come not here.<br/> - ORLANDO. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,<br/> - Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce<br/> - A thievish living on the common road?<br/> - This I must do, or know not what to do;<br/> - Yet this I will not do, do how I can.<br/> - I rather will subject me to the malice<br/> - Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.<br/> - ADAM. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,<br/> - The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,<br/> - Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,<br/> - When service should in my old limbs lie lame,<br/> - And unregarded age in corners thrown.<br/> - Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,<br/> - Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,<br/> - Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;<br/> - All this I give you. Let me be your servant;<br/> - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;<br/> - For in my youth I never did apply<br/> - Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,<br/> - Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo<br/> - The means of weakness and debility;<br/> - Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,<br/> - Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you;<br/> - I'll do the service of a younger man<br/> - In all your business and necessities.<br/> - ORLANDO. O good old man, how well in thee appears<br/> - The constant service of the antique world,<br/> - When service sweat for duty, not for meed!<br/> - Thou art not for the fashion of these times,<br/> - Where none will sweat but for promotion,<br/> - And having that do choke their service up<br/> - Even with the having; it is not so with thee.<br/> - But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree<br/> - That cannot so much as a blossom yield<br/> - In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.<br/> - But come thy ways, we'll go along together,<br/> - And ere we have thy youthful wages spent<br/> - We'll light upon some settled low content.<br/> - ADAM. Master, go on; and I will follow the<br/> - To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.<br/> - From seventeen years till now almost four-score<br/> - Here lived I, but now live here no more.<br/> - At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,<br/> - But at fourscore it is too late a week;<br/> - Yet fortune cannot recompense me better<br/> - Than to die well and not my master's debtor. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a +thousand crowns, and, as thou sayst, charged my brother, on his blessing, to +breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at +school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me +rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; +for call you that keeping, for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from +the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better, for, besides that they are +fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage and to that end riders +dearly hired; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth, for the +which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this +nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his +countenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the +place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my +education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me, and the spirit of my father, +which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no +longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. </p> -<h4>SCENE IV. -The Forest of Arden</h4> - -<p>Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, CELIA for ALIENA, and CLOWN alias TOUCHSTONE</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I Care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.<br/> - ROSALIND. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel,<br/> - and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as<br/> - doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat;<br/> - therefore, courage, good Aliena.<br/> - CELIA. I pray you bear with me; I cannot go no further.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you;<br/> - yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you<br/> - have no money in your purse.<br/> - ROSALIND. Well,. this is the Forest of Arden.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at<br/> - home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CORIN and SILVIUS</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here, a<br/> - young man and an old in solemn talk.<br/> - CORIN. That is the way to make her scorn you still.<br/> - SILVIUS. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!<br/> - CORIN. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.<br/> - SILVIUS. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,<br/> - Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover<br/> - As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow.<br/> - But if thy love were ever like to mine,<br/> - As sure I think did never man love so,<br/> - How many actions most ridiculous<br/> - Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?<br/> - CORIN. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.<br/> - SILVIUS. O, thou didst then never love so heartily!<br/> - If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly<br/> - That ever love did make thee run into,<br/> - Thou hast not lov'd;<br/> - Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,<br/> - Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,<br/> - Thou hast not lov'd;<br/> - Or if thou hast not broke from company<br/> - Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,<br/> - Thou hast not lov'd.<br/> - O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! Exit Silvius<br/> - ROSALIND. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,<br/> - I have by hard adventure found mine own.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my<br/> - sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to<br/> - Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the<br/> - cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember<br/> - the wooing of peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods,<br/> - and giving her them again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these<br/> - for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers;<br/> - but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal<br/> - in folly.<br/> - ROSALIND. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break<br/> - my shins against it.<br/> - ROSALIND. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion<br/> - Is much upon my fashion.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.<br/> - CELIA. I pray you, one of you question yond man<br/> - If he for gold will give us any food;<br/> - I faint almost to death.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Holla, you clown!<br/> - ROSALIND. Peace, fool; he's not thy Ensman.<br/> - CORIN. Who calls?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Your betters, sir.<br/> - CORIN. Else are they very wretched.<br/> - ROSALIND. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.<br/> - CORIN. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.<br/> - ROSALIND. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold<br/> - Can in this desert place buy entertainment,<br/> - Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.<br/> - Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,<br/> - And faints for succour.<br/> - CORIN. Fair sir, I pity her,<br/> - And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,<br/> - My fortunes were more able to relieve her;<br/> - But I am shepherd to another man,<br/> - And do not shear the fleeces that I graze.<br/> - My master is of churlish disposition,<br/> - And little recks to find the way to heaven<br/> - By doing deeds of hospitality.<br/> - Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,<br/> - Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now,<br/> - By reason of his absence, there is nothing<br/> - That you will feed on; but what is, come see,<br/> - And in my voice most welcome shall you be.<br/> - ROSALIND. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?<br/> - CORIN. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,<br/> - That little cares for buying any thing.<br/> - ROSALIND. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,<br/> - Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,<br/> - And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.<br/> - CELIA. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,<br/> - And willingly could waste my time in it.<br/> - CORIN. Assuredly the thing is to be sold.<br/> - Go with me; if you like upon report<br/> - The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,<br/> - I will your very faithful feeder be,<br/> - And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt<br/> -</p> - -<h4>SCENE V. Another part of the forest</h4> - -<p>Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS</p> - -<p> SONG<br/> - AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree<br/> - Who loves to lie with me,<br/> - And turn his merry note<br/> - Unto the sweet bird's throat,<br/> - Come hither, come hither, come hither.<br/> - Here shall he see<br/> - No enemy<br/> - But winter and rough weather.<br/> -</p> - -<p> JAQUES. More, more, I prithee, more.<br/> - AMIENS. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.<br/> - JAQUES. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy<br/> - out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more.<br/> - AMIENS. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you.<br/> - JAQUES. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing.<br/> - Come, more; another stanzo. Call you 'em stanzos?<br/> - AMIENS. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.<br/> - JAQUES. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will<br/> - you sing?<br/> - AMIENS. More at your request than to please myself.<br/> - JAQUES. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but<br/> - that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes;<br/> - and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a<br/> - penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you<br/> - that will not, hold your tongues.<br/> - AMIENS. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke<br/> - will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look<br/> - you.<br/> - JAQUES. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is to<br/> - disputable for my company. I think of as many matters as he; but<br/> - I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble,<br/> - come.<br/> +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Oliver</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +Yonder comes my master, your brother. </p> -<p> SONG<br/> - [All together here]<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. </p> -<p> Who doth ambition shun,<br/> - And loves to live i' th' sun,<br/> - Seeking the food he eats,<br/> - And pleas'd with what he gets,<br/> - Come hither, come hither, come hither.<br/> - Here shall he see<br/> - No enemy<br/> - But winter and rough weather.<br/> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="charname">Adam</span> retires.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Now, sir, what make you here? </p> -<p> JAQUES. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in<br/> - despite of my invention.<br/> - AMIENS. And I'll sing it.<br/> - JAQUES. Thus it goes:<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Nothing. I am not taught to make anything. </p> -<p> If it do come to pass<br/> - That any man turn ass,<br/> - Leaving his wealth and ease<br/> - A stubborn will to please,<br/> - Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame;<br/> - Here shall he see<br/> - Gross fools as he,<br/> - An if he will come to me.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +What mar you then, sir? </p> -<p> AMIENS. What's that 'ducdame'?<br/> - JAQUES. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll<br/> - go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the<br/> - first-born of Egypt.<br/> - AMIENS. And I'll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepar'd.<br/> - Exeunt severally<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy +brother of yours, with idleness. </p> -<h4>SCENE VI. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ORLANDO and ADAM</p> - -<p> ADAM. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie<br/> - I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.<br/> - ORLANDO. Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in thee? Live a<br/> - little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth<br/> - forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or<br/> - bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy<br/> - powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the<br/> - arm's end. I will here be with the presently; and if I bring thee<br/> - not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou<br/> - diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said!<br/> - thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou<br/> - liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter;<br/> - and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live<br/> - anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. </p> -<h4>SCENE VII. -The forest</h4> - -<p>A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. I think he be transform'd into a beast;<br/> - For I can nowhere find him like a man.<br/> - FIRST LORD. My lord, he is but even now gone hence;<br/> - Here was he merry, hearing of a song.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,<br/> - We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.<br/> - Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter JAQUES</p> - -<p> FIRST LORD. He saves my labour by his own approach.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,<br/> - That your poor friends must woo your company?<br/> - What, you look merrily!<br/> - JAQUES. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest,<br/> - A motley fool. A miserable world!<br/> - As I do live by food, I met a fool,<br/> - Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,<br/> - And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,<br/> - In good set terms- and yet a motley fool.<br/> - 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I; 'No, sir,' quoth he,<br/> - 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.'<br/> - And then he drew a dial from his poke,<br/> - And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,<br/> - Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock;<br/> - Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags;<br/> - 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;<br/> - And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;<br/> - And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,<br/> - And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;<br/> - And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear<br/> - The motley fool thus moral on the time,<br/> - My lungs began to crow like chanticleer<br/> - That fools should be so deep contemplative;<br/> - And I did laugh sans intermission<br/> - An hour by his dial. O noble fool!<br/> - A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. What fool is this?<br/> - JAQUES. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,<br/> - And says, if ladies be but young and fair,<br/> - They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,<br/> - Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit<br/> - After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd<br/> - With observation, the which he vents<br/> - In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!<br/> - I am ambitious for a motley coat.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Thou shalt have one.<br/> - JAQUES. It is my only suit,<br/> - Provided that you weed your better judgments<br/> - Of all opinion that grows rank in them<br/> - That I am wise. I must have liberty<br/> - Withal, as large a charter as the wind,<br/> - To blow on whom I please, for so fools have;<br/> - And they that are most galled with my folly,<br/> - They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?<br/> - The why is plain as way to parish church:<br/> - He that a fool doth very wisely hit<br/> - Doth very foolishly, although he smart,<br/> - Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not,<br/> - The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd<br/> - Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.<br/> - Invest me in my motley; give me leave<br/> - To speak my mind, and I will through and through<br/> - Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,<br/> - If they will patiently receive my medicine.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.<br/> - JAQUES. What, for a counter, would I do but good?<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Most Mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin;<br/> - For thou thyself hast been a libertine,<br/> - As sensual as the brutish sting itself;<br/> - And all th' embossed sores and headed evils<br/> - That thou with license of free foot hast caught<br/> - Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.<br/> - JAQUES. Why, who cries out on pride<br/> - That can therein tax any private party?<br/> - Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,<br/> - Till that the wearer's very means do ebb?<br/> - What woman in the city do I name<br/> - When that I say the city-woman bears<br/> - The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?<br/> - Who can come in and say that I mean her,<br/> - When such a one as she such is her neighbour?<br/> - Or what is he of basest function<br/> - That says his bravery is not on my cost,<br/> - Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits<br/> - His folly to the mettle of my speech?<br/> - There then! how then? what then? Let me see wherein<br/> - My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,<br/> - Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,<br/> - Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,<br/> - Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn</p> - -<p> ORLANDO. Forbear, and eat no more.<br/> - JAQUES. Why, I have eat none yet.<br/> - ORLANDO. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.<br/> - JAQUES. Of what kind should this cock come of?<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress?<br/> - Or else a rude despiser of good manners,<br/> - That in civility thou seem'st so empty?<br/> - ORLANDO. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point<br/> - Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show<br/> - Of smooth civility; yet arn I inland bred,<br/> - And know some nurture. But forbear, I say;<br/> - He dies that touches any of this fruit<br/> - Till I and my affairs are answered.<br/> - JAQUES. An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force<br/> - More than your force move us to gentleness.<br/> - ORLANDO. I almost die for food, and let me have it.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.<br/> - ORLANDO. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;<br/> - I thought that all things had been savage here,<br/> - And therefore put I on the countenance<br/> - Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are<br/> - That in this desert inaccessible,<br/> - Under the shade of melancholy boughs,<br/> - Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;<br/> - If ever you have look'd on better days,<br/> - If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,<br/> - If ever sat at any good man's feast,<br/> - If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,<br/> - And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,<br/> - Let gentleness my strong enforcement be;<br/> - In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. True is it that we have seen better days,<br/> - And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church,<br/> - And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes<br/> - Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red;<br/> - And therefore sit you down in gentleness,<br/> - And take upon command what help we have<br/> - That to your wanting may be minist'red.<br/> - ORLANDO. Then but forbear your food a little while,<br/> - Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,<br/> - And give it food. There is an old poor man<br/> - Who after me hath many a weary step<br/> - Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd,<br/> - Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,<br/> - I will not touch a bit.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Go find him out.<br/> - And we will nothing waste till you return.<br/> - ORLANDO. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort!<br/> - Exit<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:<br/> - This wide and universal theatre<br/> - Presents more woeful pageants than the scene<br/> - Wherein we play in.<br/> - JAQUES. All the world's a stage,<br/> - And all the men and women merely players;<br/> - They have their exits and their entrances;<br/> - And one man in his time plays many parts,<br/> - His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,<br/> - Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;<br/> - Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel<br/> - And shining morning face, creeping like snail<br/> - Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,<br/> - Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad<br/> - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,<br/> - Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,<br/> - Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,<br/> - Seeking the bubble reputation<br/> - Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,<br/> - In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,<br/> - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,<br/> - Full of wise saws and modern instances;<br/> - And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts<br/> - Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,<br/> - With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,<br/> - His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide<br/> - For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,<br/> - Turning again toward childish treble, pipes<br/> - And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,<br/> - That ends this strange eventful history,<br/> - Is second childishness and mere oblivion;<br/> - Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Re-enter ORLANDO with ADAM</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden.<br/> - And let him feed.<br/> - ORLANDO. I thank you most for him.<br/> - ADAM. So had you need;<br/> - I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you<br/> - As yet to question you about your fortunes.<br/> - Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.<br/> -</p> - -<p> SONG<br/> - Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br/> - Thou art not so unkind<br/> - As man's ingratitude;<br/> - Thy tooth is not so keen,<br/> - Because thou art not seen,<br/> - Although thy breath be rude.<br/> - Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly.<br/> - Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.<br/> - Then, heigh-ho, the holly!<br/> - This life is most jolly.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br/> - That dost not bite so nigh<br/> - As benefits forgot;<br/> - Though thou the waters warp,<br/> - Thy sting is not so sharp<br/> - As friend rememb'red not.<br/> - Heigh-ho! sing, &c.<br/> -</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,<br/> - As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,<br/> - And as mine eye doth his effigies witness<br/> - Most truly limn'd and living in your face,<br/> - Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke<br/> - That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune,<br/> - Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,<br/> - Thou art right welcome as thy master is.<br/> - Support him by the arm. Give me your hand,<br/> - And let me all your fortunes understand. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I +spent that I should come to such penury? </p> -<h4>ACT III. SCENE I. -The palace</h4> - -<p>Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, and LORDS</p> - -<p> FREDERICK. Not see him since! Sir, sir, that cannot be.<br/> - But were I not the better part made mercy,<br/> - I should not seek an absent argument<br/> - Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:<br/> - Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is;<br/> - Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living<br/> - Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more<br/> - To seek a living in our territory.<br/> - Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine<br/> - Worth seizure do we seize into our hands,<br/> - Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth<br/> - Of what we think against thee.<br/> - OLIVER. O that your Highness knew my heart in this!<br/> - I never lov'd my brother in my life.<br/> - FREDERICK. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;<br/> - And let my officers of such a nature<br/> - Make an extent upon his house and lands.<br/> - Do this expediently, and turn him going. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Know you where you are, sir? </p> -<h4>SCENE II. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ORLANDO, with a paper</p> - -<p> ORLANDO. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love;<br/> - And thou, thrice-crowned Queen of Night, survey<br/> - With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,<br/> - Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.<br/> - O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,<br/> - And in their barks my thoughts I'll character,<br/> - That every eye which in this forest looks<br/> - Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.<br/> - Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree,<br/> - The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Exit<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE</p> - -<p> CORIN. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good<br/> - life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought.<br/> - In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in<br/> - respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in<br/> - respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect<br/> - it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life,<br/> - look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty<br/> - in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in<br/> - thee, shepherd?<br/> - CORIN. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at<br/> - ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is<br/> - without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet,<br/> - and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a<br/> - great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath<br/> - learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding,<br/> - or comes of a very dull kindred.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in<br/> - court, shepherd?<br/> - CORIN. No, truly.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Then thou art damn'd.<br/> - CORIN. Nay, I hope.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on<br/> - one side.<br/> - CORIN. For not being at court? Your reason.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Why, if thou never wast at court thou never saw'st good<br/> - manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must<br/> - be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art<br/> - in a parlous state, shepherd.<br/> - CORIN. Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the<br/> - court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the<br/> - country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not<br/> - at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be<br/> - uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Instance, briefly; come, instance.<br/> - CORIN. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you<br/> - know, are greasy.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? And is not the<br/> - grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow,<br/> - shallow. A better instance, I say; come.<br/> - CORIN. Besides, our hands are hard.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A<br/> - more sounder instance; come.<br/> - CORIN. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our<br/> - sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are<br/> - perfum'd with civet.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good<br/> - piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is<br/> - of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend<br/> - the instance, shepherd.<br/> - CORIN. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God<br/> - make incision in thee! thou art raw.<br/> - CORIN. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I<br/> - wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other<br/> - men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is<br/> - to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. That is another simple sin in you: to bring the ewes<br/> - and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the<br/> - copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray<br/> - a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram,<br/> - out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damn'd for this,<br/> - the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how<br/> - thou shouldst scape.<br/> - CORIN. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. 'From the east to western Inde,<br/> - No jewel is like Rosalinde.<br/> - Her worth, being mounted on the wind,<br/> - Through all the world bears Rosalinde.<br/> - All the pictures fairest lin'd<br/> - Are but black to Rosalinde.<br/> - Let no face be kept in mind<br/> - But the fair of Rosalinde.'<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and<br/> - suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted. It is the right<br/> - butter-women's rank to market.<br/> - ROSALIND. Out, fool!<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. For a taste:<br/> - If a hart do lack a hind,<br/> - Let him seek out Rosalinde.<br/> - If the cat will after kind,<br/> - So be sure will Rosalinde.<br/> - Winter garments must be lin'd,<br/> - So must slender Rosalinde.<br/> - They that reap must sheaf and bind,<br/> - Then to cart with Rosalinde.<br/> - Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,<br/> - Such a nut is Rosalinde.<br/> - He that sweetest rose will find<br/> - Must find love's prick and Rosalinde.<br/> - This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect<br/> - yourself with them?<br/> - ROSALIND. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.<br/> - ROSALIND. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a<br/> - medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for<br/> - you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right<br/> - virtue of the medlar.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest<br/> - judge.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CELIA, with a writing</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. Peace!<br/> - Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.<br/> - CELIA. 'Why should this a desert be?<br/> - For it is unpeopled? No;<br/> - Tongues I'll hang on every tree<br/> - That shall civil sayings show.<br/> - Some, how brief the life of man<br/> - Runs his erring pilgrimage,<br/> - That the streching of a span<br/> - Buckles in his sum of age;<br/> - Some, of violated vows<br/> - 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;<br/> - But upon the fairest boughs,<br/> - Or at every sentence end,<br/> - Will I Rosalinda write,<br/> - Teaching all that read to know<br/> - The quintessence of every sprite<br/> - Heaven would in little show.<br/> - Therefore heaven Nature charg'd<br/> - That one body should be fill'd<br/> - With all graces wide-enlarg'd.<br/> - Nature presently distill'd<br/> - Helen's cheek, but not her heart,<br/> - Cleopatra's majesty,<br/> - Atalanta's better part,<br/> - Sad Lucretia's modesty.<br/> - Thus Rosalinde of many parts<br/> - By heavenly synod was devis'd,<br/> - Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,<br/> - To have the touches dearest priz'd.<br/> - Heaven would that she these gifts should have,<br/> - And I to live and die her slave.'<br/> - ROSALIND. O most gentle pulpiter! What tedious homily of love have<br/> - you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have<br/> - patience, good people.'<br/> - CELIA. How now! Back, friends; shepherd, go off a little; go with<br/> - him, sirrah.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat;<br/> - though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.<br/> - Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE<br/> - CELIA. Didst thou hear these verses?<br/> - ROSALIND. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them<br/> - had in them more feet than the verses would bear.<br/> - CELIA. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves<br/> - without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.<br/> - CELIA. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be<br/> - hang'd and carved upon these trees?<br/> - ROSALIND. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you<br/> - came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so<br/> - berhym'd since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish rat, which I<br/> - can hardly remember.<br/> - CELIA. Trow you who hath done this?<br/> - ROSALIND. Is it a man?<br/> - CELIA. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck.<br/> - Change you colour?<br/> - ROSALIND. I prithee, who?<br/> - CELIA. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but<br/> - mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter.<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay, but who is it?<br/> - CELIA. Is it possible?<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell<br/> - me who it is.<br/> - CELIA. O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet<br/> - again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!<br/> - ROSALIND. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am<br/> - caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my<br/> - disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery.<br/> - I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would<br/> - thou could'st stammer, that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man<br/> - out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd bottle-<br/> - either too much at once or none at all. I prithee take the cork<br/> - out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.<br/> - CELIA. So you may put a man in your belly.<br/> - ROSALIND. Is he of God's making? What manner of man?<br/> - Is his head worth a hat or his chin worth a beard?<br/> - CELIA. Nay, he hath but a little beard.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let<br/> - me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the<br/> - knowledge of his chin.<br/> - CELIA. It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels<br/> - and your heart both in an instant.<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true<br/> - maid.<br/> - CELIA. I' faith, coz, 'tis he.<br/> - ROSALIND. Orlando?<br/> - CELIA. Orlando.<br/> - ROSALIND. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose?<br/> - What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he?<br/> - Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where<br/> - remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him<br/> - again? Answer me in one word.<br/> - CELIA. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too<br/> - great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these<br/> - particulars is more than to answer in a catechism.<br/> - ROSALIND. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's<br/> - apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?<br/> - CELIA. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the<br/> - propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and<br/> - relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a<br/> - dropp'd acorn.<br/> - ROSALIND. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth<br/> - such fruit.<br/> - CELIA. Give me audience, good madam.<br/> - ROSALIND. Proceed.<br/> - CELIA. There lay he, stretch'd along like a wounded knight.<br/> - ROSALIND. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes<br/> - the ground.<br/> - CELIA. Cry 'Holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets<br/> - unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.<br/> - ROSALIND. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.<br/> - CELIA. I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring'st me out<br/> - of tune.<br/> - ROSALIND. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak.<br/> - Sweet, say on.<br/> - CELIA. You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. - JAQUES. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as - lief have been myself alone. - ORLANDO. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too - for your society. - JAQUES. God buy you; let's meet as little as we can. - ORLANDO. I do desire we may be better strangers. - JAQUES. I pray you mar no more trees with writing love songs in - their barks. - ORLANDO. I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them - ill-favouredly. - JAQUES. Rosalind is your love's name? - ORLANDO. Yes, just. - JAQUES. I do not like her name. - ORLANDO. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was - christen'd. - JAQUES. What stature is she of? - ORLANDO. Just as high as my heart. - JAQUES. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been - acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings? - ORLANDO. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence - you have studied your questions. - JAQUES. You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Atalanta's - heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against - our mistress the world, and all our misery. - ORLANDO. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against - whom I know most faults. - JAQUES. The worst fault you have is to be in love. - ORLANDO. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am - weary of you. - JAQUES. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. - ORLANDO. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see - him. - JAQUES. There I shall see mine own figure. - ORLANDO. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. - JAQUES. I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good Signior Love. - ORLANDO. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur - Melancholy. - Exit JAQUES - ROSALIND. [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, - and under that habit play the knave with him.- Do you hear, - forester? - ORLANDO. Very well; what would you? - ROSALIND. I pray you, what is't o'clock? - ORLANDO. You should ask me what time o' day; there's no clock in - the forest. - ROSALIND. Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing - every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot - of Time as well as a clock. - ORLANDO. And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been as - proper? - ROSALIND. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with - divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time - trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still - withal. - ORLANDO. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? - ROSALIND. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the - contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd; if the - interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems - the length of seven year. - ORLANDO. Who ambles Time withal? - ROSALIND. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath - not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, - and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one - lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other - knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles - withal. - ORLANDO. Who doth he gallop withal? - ROSALIND. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly - as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. - ORLANDO. Who stays it still withal? - ROSALIND. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term - and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. - ORLANDO. Where dwell you, pretty youth? - ROSALIND. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of - the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. - ORLANDO. Are you native of this place? - ROSALIND. As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. - ORLANDO. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in - so removed a dwelling. - ROSALIND. I have been told so of many; but indeed an old religious - uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland - man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. - I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God I - am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he - hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. - ORLANDO. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid - to the charge of women? - ROSALIND. There were none principal; they were all like one another - as halfpence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his - fellow-fault came to match it. - ORLANDO. I prithee recount some of them. - ROSALIND. No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are - sick. There is a man haunts the forest that abuses our young - plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks; hangs odes upon - hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the - name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give - him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love - upon him. - ORLANDO. I am he that is so love-shak'd; I pray you tell me your - remedy. - ROSALIND. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me - how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you - are not prisoner. - ORLANDO. What were his marks? - ROSALIND. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, - which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; - a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, - for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue. - Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your - sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you - demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you - are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself - than seeming the lover of any other. - ORLANDO. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. - ROSALIND. Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love - believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess - she does. That is one of the points in the which women still give - the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that - hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired? - ORLANDO. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I - am that he, that unfortunate he. - ROSALIND. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? - ORLANDO. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. - ROSALIND. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as - well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why - they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so - ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing - it by counsel. - ORLANDO. Did you ever cure any so? - ROSALIND. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his - love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me; at which - time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, - changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, - shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every - passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and - women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like - him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now - weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his - mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to - forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook - merely monastic. And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take - upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, - that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. - ORLANDO. I would not be cured, youth. - ROSALIND. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and - come every day to my cote and woo me. - ORLANDO. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. - ROSALIND. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, - you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? - ORLANDO. With all my heart, good youth. - ROSALIND. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you - go? Exeunt</p> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. +</p> -<h4>SCENE III. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind</p> - -<p> TOUCHSTONE. Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats,<br/> - Audrey. And how, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature<br/> - content you?<br/> - AUDREY. Your features! Lord warrant us! What features?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most<br/> - capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.<br/> - JAQUES. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a<br/> - thatch'd house!<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's<br/> - good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it<br/> - strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.<br/> - Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.<br/> - AUDREY. I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest in deed and<br/> - word? Is it a true thing?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning,<br/> - and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may<br/> - be said as lovers they do feign.<br/> - AUDREY. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest;<br/> - now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst<br/> - feign.<br/> - AUDREY. Would you not have me honest?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty<br/> - coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.<br/> - JAQUES. [Aside] A material fool!<br/> - AUDREY. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me<br/> - honest.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were<br/> - to put good meat into an unclean dish.<br/> - AUDREY. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness;<br/> - sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will<br/> - marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext,<br/> - the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in<br/> - this place of the forest, and to couple us.<br/> - JAQUES. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting.<br/> - AUDREY. Well, the gods give us joy!<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger<br/> - in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no<br/> - assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are<br/> - odious, they are necessary. It is said: 'Many a man knows no end<br/> - of his goods.' Right! Many a man has good horns and knows no end<br/> - of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his<br/> - own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest<br/> - deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore<br/> - blessed? No; as a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so<br/> - is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare<br/> - brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no<br/> - skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. Here comes<br/> - Sir Oliver.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT</p> - -<p> Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here<br/> - under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?<br/> - MARTEXT. Is there none here to give the woman?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I will not take her on gift of any man.<br/> - MARTEXT. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.<br/> - JAQUES. [Discovering himself] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir?<br/> - You are very well met. Goddild you for your last company. I am<br/> - very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay; pray be<br/> - cover'd.<br/> - JAQUES. Will you be married, motley?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and<br/> - the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons<br/> - bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.<br/> - JAQUES. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married<br/> - under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church and have a good<br/> - priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but<br/> - join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will<br/> - prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be<br/> - married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me<br/> - well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me<br/> - hereafter to leave my wife.<br/> - JAQUES. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Come, sweet Audrey;<br/> - We must be married or we must live in bawdry.<br/> - Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not-<br/> - O sweet Oliver,<br/> - O brave Oliver,<br/> - Leave me not behind thee.<br/> - But-<br/> - Wind away,<br/> - Begone, I say,<br/> - I will not to wedding with thee.<br/> - Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY<br/> - MARTEXT. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all<br/> - shall flout me out of my calling. Exit<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Know you before whom, sir? </p> -<h4>SCENE IV. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ROSALIND and CELIA</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. Never talk to me; I will weep.<br/> - CELIA. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears<br/> - do not become a man.<br/> - ROSALIND. But have I not cause to weep?<br/> - CELIA. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.<br/> - ROSALIND. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.<br/> - CELIA. Something browner than Judas's.<br/> - Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children.<br/> - ROSALIND. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour.<br/> - CELIA. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour.<br/> - ROSALIND. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of<br/> - holy bread.<br/> - CELIA. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A nun of<br/> - winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of<br/> - chastity is in them.<br/> - ROSALIND. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and<br/> - comes not?<br/> - CELIA. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.<br/> - ROSALIND. Do you think so?<br/> - CELIA. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer; but<br/> - for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as covered<br/> - goblet or a worm-eaten nut.<br/> - ROSALIND. Not true in love?<br/> - CELIA. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in.<br/> - ROSALIND. You have heard him swear downright he was.<br/> - CELIA. 'Was' is not 'is'; besides, the oath of a lover is no<br/> - stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmer<br/> - of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the Duke,<br/> - your father.<br/> - ROSALIND. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him.<br/> - He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as<br/> - he; so he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk we of fathers when<br/> - there is such a man as Orlando?<br/> - CELIA. O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave<br/> - words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite<br/> - traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that<br/> - spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble<br/> - goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who<br/> - comes here?<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CORIN</p> - -<p> CORIN. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired<br/> - After the shepherd that complain'd of love,<br/> - Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,<br/> - Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess<br/> - That was his mistress.<br/> - CELIA. Well, and what of him?<br/> - CORIN. If you will see a pageant truly play'd<br/> - Between the pale complexion of true love<br/> - And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,<br/> - Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,<br/> - If you will mark it.<br/> - ROSALIND. O, come, let us remove!<br/> - The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.<br/> - Bring us to this sight, and you shall say<br/> - I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother, and +in the gentle condition of blood you should so know me. The courtesy of +nations allows you my better in that you are the first-born, but the same +tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I +have as much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming before +me is nearer to his reverence. </p> -<h4>SCENE V. -Another part of the forest</h4> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +What, boy! +</p> -<p>Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE</p> - -<p> SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe.<br/> - Say that you love me not; but say not so<br/> - In bitterness. The common executioner,<br/> - Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard,<br/> - Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck<br/> - But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be<br/> - Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance</p> - -<p> PHEBE. I would not be thy executioner;<br/> - I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.<br/> - Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye.<br/> - 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,<br/> - That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,<br/> - Who shut their coward gates on atomies,<br/> - Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!<br/> - Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;<br/> - And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.<br/> - Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down;<br/> - Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,<br/> - Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.<br/> - Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.<br/> - Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains<br/> - Some scar of it; lean upon a rush,<br/> - The cicatrice and capable impressure<br/> - Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,<br/> - Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;<br/> - Nor, I am sure, there is not force in eyes<br/> - That can do hurt.<br/> - SILVIUS. O dear Phebe,<br/> - If ever- as that ever may be near-<br/> - You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,<br/> - Then shall you know the wounds invisible<br/> - That love's keen arrows make.<br/> - PHEBE. But till that time<br/> - Come not thou near me; and when that time comes,<br/> - Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;<br/> - As till that time I shall not pity thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. [Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who might be your<br/> - mother,<br/> - That you insult, exult, and all at once,<br/> - Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty-<br/> - As, by my faith, I see no more in you<br/> - Than without candle may go dark to bed-<br/> - Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?<br/> - Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?<br/> - I see no more in you than in the ordinary<br/> - Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,<br/> - I think she means to tangle my eyes too!<br/> - No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it;<br/> - 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,<br/> - Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,<br/> - That can entame my spirits to your worship.<br/> - You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,<br/> - Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?<br/> - You are a thousand times a properer man<br/> - Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you<br/> - That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children.<br/> - 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;<br/> - And out of you she sees herself more proper<br/> - Than any of her lineaments can show her.<br/> - But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees,<br/> - And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love;<br/> - For I must tell you friendly in your ear:<br/> - Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.<br/> - Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;<br/> - Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.<br/> - So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.<br/> - PHEBE. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together;<br/> - I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.<br/> - ROSALIND. He's fall'n in love with your foulness, and she'll fall<br/> - in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee<br/> - with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look<br/> - you so upon me?<br/> - PHEBE. For no ill will I bear you.<br/> - ROSALIND. I pray you do not fall in love with me,<br/> - For I am falser than vows made in wine;<br/> - Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,<br/> - 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.<br/> - Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.<br/> - Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,<br/> - And be not proud; though all the world could see,<br/> - None could be so abus'd in sight as he.<br/> - Come, to our flock. Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN<br/> - PHEBE. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:<br/> - 'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?'<br/> - SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe.<br/> - PHEBE. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?<br/> - SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, pity me.<br/> - PHEBE. Why, I arn sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.<br/> - SILVIUS. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.<br/> - If you do sorrow at my grief in love,<br/> - By giving love, your sorrow and my grief<br/> - Were both extermin'd.<br/> - PHEBE. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly?<br/> - SILVIUS. I would have you.<br/> - PHEBE. Why, that were covetousness.<br/> - Silvius, the time was that I hated thee;<br/> - And yet it is not that I bear thee love;<br/> - But since that thou canst talk of love so well,<br/> - Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,<br/> - I will endure; and I'll employ thee too.<br/> - But do not look for further recompense<br/> - Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.<br/> - SILVIUS. So holy and so perfect is my love,<br/> - And I in such a poverty of grace,<br/> - That I shall think it a most plenteous crop<br/> - To glean the broken ears after the man<br/> - That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then<br/> - A scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon.<br/> - PHEBE. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?<br/> - SILVIUS. Not very well; but I have met him oft;<br/> - And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds<br/> - That the old carlot once was master of.<br/> - PHEBE. Think not I love him, though I ask for him;<br/> - 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well.<br/> - But what care I for words? Yet words do well<br/> - When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.<br/> - It is a pretty youth- not very pretty;<br/> - But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him.<br/> - He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him<br/> - Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue<br/> - Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.<br/> - He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall;<br/> - His leg is but so-so; and yet 'tis well.<br/> - There was a pretty redness in his lip,<br/> - A little riper and more lusty red<br/> - Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference<br/> - Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.<br/> - There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him<br/> - In parcels as I did, would have gone near<br/> - To fall in love with him; but, for my part,<br/> - I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet<br/> - I have more cause to hate him than to love him;<br/> - For what had he to do to chide at me?<br/> - He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black,<br/> - And, now I am rememb'red, scorn'd at me.<br/> - I marvel why I answer'd not again;<br/> - But that's all one: omittance is no quittance.<br/> - I'll write to him a very taunting letter,<br/> - And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius?<br/> - SILVIUS. Phebe, with all my heart.<br/> - PHEBE. I'll write it straight;<br/> - The matter's in my head and in my heart;<br/> - I will be bitter with him and passing short.<br/> - Go with me, Silvius. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. </p> -<h4>ACT IV. SCENE I. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES</p> - -<p> JAQUES. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with<br/> - thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. They say you are a melancholy fellow.<br/> - JAQUES. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.<br/> - ROSALIND. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable<br/> - fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than<br/> - drunkards.<br/> - JAQUES. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.<br/> - JAQUES. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is<br/> - emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the<br/> - courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is<br/> - ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's,<br/> - which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a<br/> - melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted<br/> - from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my<br/> - travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous<br/> - sadness.<br/> - ROSALIND. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be<br/> - sad. I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's; then<br/> - to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and<br/> - poor hands.<br/> - JAQUES. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ORLANDO</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a<br/> - fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to<br/> - travel for it too.<br/> - ORLANDO. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!<br/> - JAQUES. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse.<br/> - ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look you lisp and wear<br/> - strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be<br/> - out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making<br/> - you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have<br/> - swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES] Why, how now, Orlando! where<br/> - have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such<br/> - another trick, never come in my sight more.<br/> - ORLANDO. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.<br/> - ROSALIND. Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a<br/> - minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the<br/> - thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said<br/> - of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll<br/> - warrant him heart-whole.<br/> - ORLANDO. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had<br/> - as lief be woo'd of a snail.<br/> - ORLANDO. Of a snail!<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries<br/> - his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make<br/> - a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him.<br/> - ORLANDO. What's that?<br/> - ROSALIND. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to<br/> - your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents<br/> - the slander of his wife.<br/> - ORLANDO. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.<br/> - ROSALIND. And I am your Rosalind.<br/> - CELIA. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a<br/> - better leer than you.<br/> - ROSALIND. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour,<br/> - and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I<br/> - were your very very Rosalind?<br/> - ORLANDO. I would kiss before I spoke.<br/> - ROSALIND. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were<br/> - gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss.<br/> - Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for<br/> - lovers lacking- God warn us!- matter, the cleanliest shift is to<br/> - kiss.<br/> - ORLANDO. How if the kiss be denied?<br/> - ROSALIND. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new<br/> - matter.<br/> - ORLANDO. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?<br/> - ROSALIND. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I<br/> - should think my honesty ranker than my wit.<br/> - ORLANDO. What, of my suit?<br/> - ROSALIND. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.<br/> - Am not I your Rosalind?<br/> - ORLANDO. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking<br/> - of her.<br/> - ROSALIND. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.<br/> - ORLANDO. Then, in mine own person, I die.<br/> - ROSALIND. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six<br/> - thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man<br/> - died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had<br/> - his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he<br/> - could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love.<br/> - Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had<br/> - turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for,<br/> - good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and,<br/> - being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish<br/> - chroniclers of that age found it was- Hero of Sestos. But these<br/> - are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have<br/> - eaten them, but not for love.<br/> - ORLANDO. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I<br/> - protest, her frown might kill me.<br/> - ROSALIND. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I<br/> - will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me<br/> - what you will, I will grant it.<br/> - ORLANDO. Then love me, Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all.<br/> - ORLANDO. And wilt thou have me?<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, and twenty such.<br/> - ORLANDO. What sayest thou?<br/> - ROSALIND. Are you not good?<br/> - ORLANDO. I hope so.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come,<br/> - sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand,<br/> - Orlando. What do you say, sister?<br/> - ORLANDO. Pray thee, marry us.<br/> - CELIA. I cannot say the words.<br/> - ROSALIND. You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'-<br/> - CELIA. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?<br/> - ORLANDO. I will.<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, but when?<br/> - ORLANDO. Why, now; as fast as she can marry us.<br/> - ROSALIND. Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.'<br/> - ORLANDO. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.<br/> - ROSALIND. I might ask you for your commission; but- I do take thee,<br/> - Orlando, for my husband. There's a girl goes before the priest;<br/> - and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.<br/> - ORLANDO. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.<br/> - ROSALIND. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have<br/> - possess'd her.<br/> - ORLANDO. For ever and a day.<br/> - ROSALIND. Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are<br/> - April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when<br/> - they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will<br/> - be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen,<br/> - more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than<br/> - an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for<br/> - nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you<br/> - are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when<br/> - thou are inclin'd to sleep.<br/> - ORLANDO. But will my Rosalind do so?<br/> - ROSALIND. By my life, she will do as I do.<br/> - ORLANDO. O, but she is wise.<br/> - ROSALIND. Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser,<br/> - the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out<br/> - at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop<br/> - that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.<br/> - ORLANDO. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit,<br/> - whither wilt?' ROSALIND. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your<br/> - wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.<br/> - ORLANDO. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?<br/> - ROSALIND. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never<br/> - take her without her answer, unless you take her without her<br/> - tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's<br/> - occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will<br/> - breed it like a fool!<br/> - ORLANDO. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.<br/> - ROSALIND. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours!<br/> - ORLANDO. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be<br/> - with thee again.<br/> - ROSALIND. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would<br/> - prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less. That<br/> - flattering tongue of yours won me. 'Tis but one cast away, and<br/> - so, come death! Two o'clock is your hour?<br/> - ORLANDO. Ay, sweet Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and<br/> - by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot<br/> - of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will<br/> - think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow<br/> - lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may<br/> - be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore<br/> - beware my censure, and keep your promise.<br/> - ORLANDO. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my<br/> - Rosalind; so, adieu.<br/> - ROSALIND. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such<br/> - offenders, and let Time try. Adieu. Exit ORLANDO<br/> - CELIA. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate. We must<br/> - have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the<br/> - world what the bird hath done to her own nest.<br/> - ROSALIND. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst<br/> - know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded;<br/> - my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.<br/> - CELIA. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection<br/> - in, it runs out.<br/> - ROSALIND. No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of<br/> - thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind<br/> - rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are<br/> - out- let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll tell thee,<br/> - Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I'll go find a<br/> - shadow, and sigh till he come.<br/> - CELIA. And I'll sleep. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? </p> -<h4>SCENE II. -The forest</h4> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I am no villain. I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my +father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert +thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other +had pulled out thy tongue for saying so. Thou has railed on thyself. +</p> -<p> Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the habit of foresters</p> +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +[<i>Coming forward</i>.] Sweet masters, be patient. For your father’s +remembrance, be at accord. +</p> -<p> JAQUES. Which is he that killed the deer?<br/> - LORD. Sir, it was I.<br/> - JAQUES. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and<br/> - it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head for a<br/> - branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?<br/> - LORD. Yes, sir.<br/> - JAQUES. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise<br/> - enough.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Let me go, I say. </p> -<p> SONG.</p> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My father charged you in his will +to give me good education. You have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and +hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows +strong in me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow me such +exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father +left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. +</p> -<p> What shall he have that kill'd the deer?<br/> - His leather skin and horns to wear.<br/> - [The rest shall hear this burden:]<br/> - Then sing him home.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +And what wilt thou do? Beg when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in. I will +not long be troubled with you. You shall have some part of your will. I pray +you leave me. </p> -<p> Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;<br/> - It was a crest ere thou wast born.<br/> - Thy father's father wore it;<br/> - And thy father bore it.<br/> - The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,<br/> - Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I no further offend you than becomes me for my good. </p> -<h4>SCENE III. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ROSALIND and CELIA</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock?<br/> - And here much Orlando!<br/> - CELIA. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath<br/> - ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth- to sleep. Look, who<br/> - comes here.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter SILVIUS</p> - -<p> SILVIUS. My errand is to you, fair youth;<br/> - My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this.<br/> - I know not the contents; but, as I guess<br/> - By the stern brow and waspish action<br/> - Which she did use as she was writing of it,<br/> - It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me,<br/> - I am but as a guiltless messenger.<br/> - ROSALIND. Patience herself would startle at this letter,<br/> - And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all.<br/> - She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;<br/> - She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,<br/> - Were man as rare as Phoenix. 'Od's my will!<br/> - Her love is not the hare that I do hunt;<br/> - Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,<br/> - This is a letter of your own device.<br/> - SILVIUS. No, I protest, I know not the contents;<br/> - Phebe did write it.<br/> - ROSALIND. Come, come, you are a fool,<br/> - And turn'd into the extremity of love.<br/> - I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand,<br/> - A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think<br/> - That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;<br/> - She has a huswife's hand- but that's no matter.<br/> - I say she never did invent this letter:<br/> - This is a man's invention, and his hand.<br/> - SILVIUS. Sure, it is hers.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style;<br/> - A style for challengers. Why, she defies me,<br/> - Like Turk to Christian. Women's gentle brain<br/> - Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,<br/> - Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect<br/> - Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?<br/> - SILVIUS. So please you, for I never heard it yet;<br/> - Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.<br/> - ROSALIND. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.<br/> - [Reads]<br/> -</p> - -<p> 'Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,<br/> - That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?'<br/> -</p> - -<p> Can a woman rail thus?<br/> - SILVIUS. Call you this railing?<br/> - ROSALIND. 'Why, thy godhead laid apart,<br/> - Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?'<br/> -</p> - -<p> Did you ever hear such railing?</p> - -<p> 'Whiles the eye of man did woo me,<br/> - That could do no vengeance to me.'<br/> -</p> - -<p> Meaning me a beast.</p> - -<p> 'If the scorn of your bright eyne<br/> +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Get you with him, you old dog. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +Is “old dog” my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be +with my old master. He would not have spoke such a word. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Adam</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet +give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Dennis</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DENNIS<br/> +Calls your worship? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DENNIS<br/> +So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Call him in. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Dennis</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +’Twill be a good way, and tomorrow the wrestling is. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Charles</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +Good morrow to your worship. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Good Monsieur Charles. What’s the new news at the new court? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news. That is, the old Duke is +banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving lords +have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues +enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their +cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile or have died to +stay behind her. She is at the court and no less beloved of her uncle than his +own daughter, and never two ladies loved as they do. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Where will the old Duke live? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; +and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young +gentlemen flock to him every day and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in +the golden world. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new Duke? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +Marry, do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, +secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition +to come in disguised against me to try a fall. Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my +credit, and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. +Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loath to +foil him, as I must for my own honour if he come in. Therefore, out of my +love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay +him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in +that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most +kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and have by +underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I’ll tell +thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition, +an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret and villainous +contriver against me his natural brother. Therefore use thy discretion. I had +as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t; +for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace +himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some +treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by some +indirect means or other. For I assure thee (and almost with tears I speak it) +there is not one so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but +brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and +weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come tomorrow I’ll give him his +payment. If ever he go alone again I’ll never wrestle for prize more. And so, +God keep your worship. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an +end of him; for my soul—yet I know not why—hates nothing more than he. Yet +he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts +enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and +especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprized. +But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but +that I kindle the boy thither, which now I’ll go about. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneI_4.2"></a><b>SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke’s Palace</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of, and would you yet I were +merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not +learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Herein I see thou lov’st me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my +uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so thou +hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for +mine. So wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously +tempered as mine is to thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Well, I will forget the condition of my estate to rejoice in yours. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and truly, +when he dies thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy +father perforce, I will render thee again in affection. By mine honour I will! +And when I break that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet Rose, my +dear Rose, be merry. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see—what think you of +falling in love? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Marry, I prithee do, to make sport withal; but love no man in good earnest, +nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in +honour come off again. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +What shall be our sport, then? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts +may henceforth be bestowed equally. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the +bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +’Tis true, for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those +that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s. Fortune reigns in gifts +of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Touchstone</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +No? When Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the +fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune +sent in this fool to cut off the argument? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature’s +natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, but Nature’s, who perceiveth +our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this +natural for our whetstone; for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone +of the wits.—How now, wit, whither wander you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Mistress, you must come away to your father. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Were you made the messenger? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Where learned you that oath, fool? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore +by his honour the mustard was naught. Now, I’ll stand to it, the pancakes were +naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am +a knave. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +By our beards, if we had them, thou art. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you swear by that that is not, +you are not forsworn. No more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he +never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those +pancackes or that mustard. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Prithee, who is’t that thou mean’st? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +One that old Frederick, your father, loves. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +My father’s love is enough to honour him. Enough! Speak no more of him. You’ll +be whipped for taxation one of these days. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +By my troth, thou sayest true. For since the little wit that fools have was +silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes +Monsieur Le Beau. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Le Beau</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With his mouth full of news. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Then shall we be news-crammed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +All the better; we shall be the more marketable.<br/> +<i>Bonjour</i>, Monsieur Le Beau. What’s the news? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Sport! Of what colour? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +As wit and fortune will. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Or as the destinies decrees. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Well said. That was laid on with a trowel. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Nay, if I keep not my rank— +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Thou losest thy old smell. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have +lost the sight of. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +I will tell you the beginning and, if it please your ladyships, you may see +the end, for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to +perform it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +There comes an old man and his three sons— +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I could match this beginning with an old tale. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Three proper young men of excellent growth and presence. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With bills on their necks: “Be it known unto all men by these presents.” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, which +Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is +little hope of life in him. So he served the second, and so the third. Yonder +they lie, the poor old man their father making such pitiful dole over them +that all the beholders take his part with weeping. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Alas! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Why, this that I speak of. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I heard +breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Or I, I promise thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? Is there yet +another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +You must if you stay here, for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, +and they are ready to perform it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Flourish. Enter <span class="charname">Duke Frederick, +Lords, Orlando, Charles</span> and Attendants.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Come on. Since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his +forwardness. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Is yonder the man? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Even he, madam. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Alas, he is too young. Yet he looks successfully. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +How now, daughter and cousin? Are you crept hither to see the wrestling? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the +man. In pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will +not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Do so; I’ll not be by. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i><span class="charname">Duke Frederick</span> steps +aside.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Monsieur the challenger, the Princess calls for you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I attend them with all respect and duty. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +No, fair princess. He is the general challenger. I come but in as others do, +to try with him the strength of my youth. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel +proof of this man’s strength. If you saw yourself with your eyes or knew +yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a +more equal enterprise. We pray you for your own sake to embrace your own +safety and give over this attempt. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Do, young sir. Your reputation shall not therefore be misprized. We will make +it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much +guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes +and gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be foiled there is but +one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to +be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world +no injury, for in it I have nothing. Only in the world I fill up a place, which +may be better supplied when I have made it empty. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +And mine to eke out hers. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Your heart’s desires be with you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother +earth? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +You shall try but one fall. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CHARLES.<br/> +No, I warrant your grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so +mightily persuaded him from a first. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before. But come your +ways. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i><span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Charles</span> wrestle.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O excellent young man! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i><span class="charname">Charles</span> is thrown. Shout.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +No more, no more. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Yes, I beseech your grace. I am not yet well breathed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +How dost thou, Charles? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +He cannot speak, my lord. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Bear him away. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i><span class="charname">Charles</span> is carried off by Attendants.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +What is thy name, young man? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +I would thou hadst been son to some man else.<br/> +The world esteemed thy father honourable,<br/> +But I did find him still mine enemy.<br/> +Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed<br/> +Hadst thou descended from another house.<br/> +But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth.<br/> +I would thou hadst told me of another father. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Duke Frederick, Le Beau</span> and +Lords.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Were I my father, coz, would I do this? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son,<br/> +His youngest son, and would not change that calling<br/> +To be adopted heir to Frederick. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,<br/> +And all the world was of my father’s mind.<br/> +Had I before known this young man his son,<br/> +I should have given him tears unto entreaties<br/> +Ere he should thus have ventured. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Gentle cousin,<br/> +Let us go thank him and encourage him.<br/> +My father’s rough and envious disposition<br/> +Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserved.<br/> +If you do keep your promises in love<br/> +But justly, as you have exceeded promise,<br/> +Your mistress shall be happy. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Gentleman, +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Giving him a chain from her neck</i>.]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Wear this for me—one out of suits with Fortune,<br/> +That could give more but that her hand lacks means.—<br/> +Shall we go, coz? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts<br/> +Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up<br/> +Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes.<br/> +I’ll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?—<br/> +Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown<br/> +More than your enemies. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Will you go, coz? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Have with you.—Fare you well. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?<br/> +I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.<br/> +O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown.<br/> +Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Le Beau</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you<br/> +To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved<br/> +High commendation, true applause, and love,<br/> +Yet such is now the Duke’s condition<br/> +That he misconsters all that you have done.<br/> +The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed<br/> +More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this:<br/> +Which of the two was daughter of the Duke<br/> +That here was at the wrestling? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +LE BEAU.<br/> +Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners,<br/> +But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter.<br/> +The other is daughter to the banished Duke,<br/> +And here detained by her usurping uncle<br/> +To keep his daughter company, whose loves<br/> +Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.<br/> +But I can tell you that of late this Duke<br/> +Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece,<br/> +Grounded upon no other argument<br/> +But that the people praise her for her virtues<br/> +And pity her for her good father’s sake;<br/> +And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady<br/> +Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well.<br/> +Hereafter, in a better world than this,<br/> +I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I rest much bounden to you; fare you well! +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Le Beau</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Thus must I from the smoke into the smother,<br/> +From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother.<br/> +But heavenly Rosalind! +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneI_4.3"></a><b>SCENE III. A Room in the Palace</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Celia</span> and +<span class="charname">Rosalind</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Why, cousin, why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Not one to throw at a dog. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs. Throw some of them at +me. Come, lame me with reasons. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons +and the other mad without any. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +But is all this for your father? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this +working-day world! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery. If we walk not +in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Hem them away. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I would try, if I could cry “hem” and have him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of a fall. But +turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it +possible on such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old +Sir Rowland’s youngest son? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +The Duke my father loved his father dearly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of +chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not +Orlando. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Duke Frederick</span> with Lords.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do.—Look, here comes +the Duke. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +With his eyes full of anger. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,<br/> +And get you from our court. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Me, uncle? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +You, cousin.<br/> +Within these ten days if that thou be’st found<br/> +So near our public court as twenty miles,<br/> +Thou diest for it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I do beseech your Grace,<br/> +Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me.<br/> +If with myself I hold intelligence,<br/> +Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,<br/> +If that I do not dream, or be not frantic—<br/> +As I do trust I am not—then, dear uncle,<br/> +Never so much as in a thought unborn<br/> +Did I offend your Highness. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Thus do all traitors.<br/> +If their purgation did consist in words,<br/> +They are as innocent as grace itself.<br/> +Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.<br/> +Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Thou art thy father’s daughter, there’s enough. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +So was I when your highness took his dukedom;<br/> +So was I when your highness banished him.<br/> +Treason is not inherited, my lord,<br/> +Or, if we did derive it from our friends,<br/> +What’s that to me? My father was no traitor.<br/> +Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much<br/> +To think my poverty is treacherous. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Dear sovereign, hear me speak. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake,<br/> +Else had she with her father ranged along. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I did not then entreat to have her stay;<br/> +It was your pleasure and your own remorse.<br/> +I was too young that time to value her,<br/> +But now I know her. If she be a traitor,<br/> +Why, so am I. We still have slept together,<br/> +Rose at an instant, learned, played, ate together,<br/> +And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,<br/> +Still we went coupled and inseparable. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness,<br/> +Her very silence, and her patience<br/> +Speak to the people, and they pity her.<br/> +Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name,<br/> +And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous<br/> +When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.<br/> +Firm and irrevocable is my doom<br/> +Which I have passed upon her. She is banished. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege.<br/> +I cannot live out of her company. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself.<br/> +If you outstay the time, upon mine honour<br/> +And in the greatness of my word, you die. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Duke Frederick</span> +and Lords.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?<br/> +Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.<br/> +I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I have more cause. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Thou hast not, cousin.<br/> +Prithee be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke<br/> +Hath banished me, his daughter? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +That he hath not. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love<br/> +Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.<br/> +Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet girl?<br/> +No, let my father seek another heir.<br/> +Therefore devise with me how we may fly,<br/> +Whither to go, and what to bear with us,<br/> +And do not seek to take your change upon you,<br/> +To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out.<br/> +For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,<br/> +Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why, whither shall we go? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Alas, what danger will it be to us,<br/> +Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?<br/> +Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire,<br/> +And with a kind of umber smirch my face.<br/> +The like do you; so shall we pass along<br/> +And never stir assailants. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Were it not better,<br/> +Because that I am more than common tall,<br/> +That I did suit me all points like a man?<br/> +A gallant curtal-axe upon my thigh,<br/> +A boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart<br/> +Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will,<br/> +We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside,<br/> +As many other mannish cowards have<br/> +That do outface it with their semblances. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +What shall I call thee when thou art a man? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page,<br/> +And therefore look you call me Ganymede.<br/> +But what will you be called? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Something that hath a reference to my state:<br/> +No longer Celia, but Aliena. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal<br/> +The clownish fool out of your father’s court?<br/> +Would he not be a comfort to our travel? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me.<br/> +Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away,<br/> +And get our jewels and our wealth together,<br/> +Devise the fittest time and safest way<br/> +To hide us from pursuit that will be made<br/> +After my flight. Now go we in content<br/> +To liberty, and not to banishment. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="sceneII_4.1"></a><b>ACT II</b></h2> + +<h3><b>SCENE I. The Forest of Arden</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Duke Senior, Amiens</span> +and two or three Lords, dressed as foresters.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,<br/> +Hath not old custom made this life more sweet<br/> +Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods<br/> +More free from peril than the envious court?<br/> +Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,<br/> +The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang<br/> +And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,<br/> +Which when it bites and blows upon my body<br/> +Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say:<br/> +“This is no flattery. These are counsellors<br/> +That feelingly persuade me what I am.”<br/> +Sweet are the uses of adversity,<br/> +Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,<br/> +Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;<br/> +And this our life, exempt from public haunt,<br/> +Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,<br/> +Sermons in stones, and good in everything. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +I would not change it. Happy is your grace,<br/> +That can translate the stubbornness of fortune<br/> +Into so quiet and so sweet a style. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Come, shall we go and kill us venison?<br/> +And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,<br/> +Being native burghers of this desert city,<br/> +Should in their own confines with forked heads<br/> +Have their round haunches gored. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +Indeed, my lord,<br/> +The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,<br/> +And in that kind swears you do more usurp<br/> +Than doth your brother that hath banished you.<br/> +Today my lord of Amiens and myself<br/> +Did steal behind him as he lay along<br/> +Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out<br/> +Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;<br/> +To the which place a poor sequestered stag,<br/> +That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,<br/> +Did come to languish; and indeed, my lord,<br/> +The wretched animal heaved forth such groans<br/> +That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat<br/> +Almost to bursting, and the big round tears<br/> +Coursed one another down his innocent nose<br/> +In piteous chase. And thus the hairy fool,<br/> +Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,<br/> +Stood on th’ extremest verge of the swift brook,<br/> +Augmenting it with tears. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +But what said Jaques?<br/> +Did he not moralize this spectacle? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +O yes, into a thousand similes.<br/> +First, for his weeping into the needless stream:<br/> +“Poor deer,” quoth he “thou mak’st a testament<br/> +As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more<br/> +To that which had too much.” Then, being there alone,<br/> +Left and abandoned of his velvet friends:<br/> +“’Tis right”; quoth he, “thus misery doth part<br/> +The flux of company.” Anon a careless herd,<br/> +Full of the pasture, jumps along by him<br/> +And never stays to greet him. “Ay,” quoth Jaques,<br/> +“Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens!<br/> +’Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look<br/> +Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?”<br/> +Thus most invectively he pierceth through<br/> +The body of the country, city, court,<br/> +Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we<br/> +Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,<br/> +To fright the animals and to kill them up<br/> +In their assigned and native dwelling-place. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +And did you leave him in this contemplation? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND LORD.<br/> +We did, my lord, weeping and commenting<br/> +Upon the sobbing deer. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Show me the place.<br/> +I love to cope him in these sullen fits,<br/> +For then he’s full of matter. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +I’ll bring you to him straight. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.2"></a><b>SCENE II. A Room in the Palace</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Duke Frederick</span> with +Lords.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Can it be possible that no man saw them?<br/> +It cannot be! Some villains of my court<br/> +Are of consent and sufferance in this. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +I cannot hear of any that did see her.<br/> +The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,<br/> +Saw her abed, and in the morning early<br/> +They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND LORD.<br/> +My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft<br/> +Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.<br/> +Hesperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,<br/> +Confesses that she secretly o’erheard<br/> +Your daughter and her cousin much commend<br/> +The parts and graces of the wrestler<br/> +That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;<br/> +And she believes wherever they are gone<br/> +That youth is surely in their company. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither.<br/> +If he be absent, bring his brother to me.<br/> +I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly!<br/> +And let not search and inquisition quail<br/> +To bring again these foolish runaways. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.3"></a><b>SCENE III. Before Oliver’s House</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Adam</span>, meeting. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Who’s there? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +What, my young master? O my gentle master,<br/> +O my sweet master, O you memory<br/> +Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here?<br/> +Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?<br/> +And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?<br/> +Why would you be so fond to overcome<br/> +The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke?<br/> +Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.<br/> +Know you not, master, to some kind of men<br/> +Their graces serve them but as enemies?<br/> +No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,<br/> +Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.<br/> +O, what a world is this, when what is comely<br/> +Envenoms him that bears it! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Why, what’s the matter? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +O unhappy youth,<br/> +Come not within these doors! Within this roof<br/> +The enemy of all your graces lives.<br/> +Your brother—no, no brother, yet the son—<br/> +Yet not the son; I will not call him son—<br/> +Of him I was about to call his father,<br/> +Hath heard your praises, and this night he means<br/> +To burn the lodging where you use to lie,<br/> +And you within it. If he fail of that,<br/> +He will have other means to cut you off;<br/> +I overheard him and his practices.<br/> +This is no place; this house is but a butchery.<br/> +Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +No matter whither, so you come not here. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,<br/> +Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce<br/> +A thievish living on the common road?<br/> +This I must do, or know not what to do.<br/> +Yet this I will not do, do how I can.<br/> +I rather will subject me to the malice<br/> +Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,<br/> +The thrifty hire I saved under your father,<br/> +Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,<br/> +When service should in my old limbs lie lame,<br/> +And unregarded age in corners thrown.<br/> +Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,<br/> +Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,<br/> +Be comfort to my age. Here is the gold.<br/> +All this I give you. Let me be your servant.<br/> +Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty,<br/> +For in my youth I never did apply<br/> +Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,<br/> +Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo<br/> +The means of weakness and debility.<br/> +Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,<br/> +Frosty but kindly. Let me go with you.<br/> +I’ll do the service of a younger man<br/> +In all your business and necessities. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +O good old man, how well in thee appears<br/> +The constant service of the antique world,<br/> +When service sweat for duty, not for meed.<br/> +Thou art not for the fashion of these times,<br/> +Where none will sweat but for promotion,<br/> +And having that do choke their service up<br/> +Even with the having. It is not so with thee.<br/> +But, poor old man, thou prun’st a rotten tree,<br/> +That cannot so much as a blossom yield<br/> +In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.<br/> +But come thy ways, we’ll go along together,<br/> +And ere we have thy youthful wages spent<br/> +We’ll light upon some settled low content. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +Master, go on and I will follow thee<br/> +To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.<br/> +From seventeen years till now almost fourscore<br/> +Here lived I, but now live here no more.<br/> +At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,<br/> +But at fourscore it is too late a week.<br/> +Yet fortune cannot recompense me better<br/> +Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.4"></a><b>SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> as Ganymede, +<span class="charname">Celia</span> as Aliena, and +<span class="charname">Touchstone</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel, and to cry like a woman, +but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself +courageous to petticoat. Therefore, courage, good Aliena. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I pray you bear with me, I cannot go no further. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you. Yet I should bear no +cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Well, this is the forest of Arden. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Ay, now am I in Arden, the more fool I! When I was at home I was in a better +place, but travellers must be content. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Corin</span> and +<span class="charname">Silvius</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here? A young man and an old +in solemn talk. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +That is the way to make her scorn you still. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +I partly guess, for I have loved ere now. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,<br/> +Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover<br/> +As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow.<br/> +But if thy love were ever like to mine—<br/> +As sure I think did never man love so—<br/> +How many actions most ridiculous<br/> +Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Into a thousand that I have forgotten. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +O, thou didst then never love so heartily!<br/> +If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly<br/> +That ever love did make thee run into,<br/> +Thou hast not loved.<br/> +Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,<br/> +Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,<br/> +Thou hast not loved.<br/> +Or if thou hast not broke from company<br/> +Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,<br/> +Thou hast not loved.<br/> +O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe! +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Silvius</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound,<br/> +I have by hard adventure found mine own. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +And I mine. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and +bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing +of her batlet, and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked; and +I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods, +and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, “Wear these for my sake.” +We that are true lovers run into strange capers. But as all is mortal in +nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Jove, Jove, this shepherd’s passion<br/> +Is much upon my fashion. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +And mine, but it grows something stale with me. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I pray you, one of you question yond man<br/> +If he for gold will give us any food.<br/> +I faint almost to death. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Holla, you clown! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Peace, fool, he’s not thy kinsman. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Who calls? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Your betters, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Else are they very wretched. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Peace, I say.—Good even to you, friend. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold<br/> +Can in this desert place buy entertainment,<br/> +Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.<br/> +Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed,<br/> +And faints for succour. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Fair sir, I pity her<br/> +And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,<br/> +My fortunes were more able to relieve her.<br/> +But I am shepherd to another man<br/> +And do not shear the fleeces that I graze.<br/> +My master is of churlish disposition<br/> +And little recks to find the way to heaven<br/> +By doing deeds of hospitality.<br/> +Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed<br/> +Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,<br/> +By reason of his absence, there is nothing<br/> +That you will feed on. But what is, come see,<br/> +And in my voice most welcome shall you be. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,<br/> +That little cares for buying anything. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,<br/> +Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,<br/> +And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,<br/> +And willingly could waste my time in it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Assuredly the thing is to be sold.<br/> +Go with me. If you like upon report<br/> +The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,<br/> +I will your very faithful feeder be,<br/> +And buy it with your gold right suddenly. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.5"></a><b>SCENE V. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Amiens, Jaques</span> and +others.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +[<i>Sings</i>.] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + Under the greenwood tree,<br/> + Who loves to lie with me<br/> + And turn his merry note<br/> + Unto the sweet bird’s throat,<br/> + Come hither, come hither, come hither!<br/> + Here shall he see<br/> + No enemy<br/> + But winter and rough weather. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +More, more, I prithee, more. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song as a +weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +My voice is ragged. I know I cannot please you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more, another +<i>stanzo</i>. Call you ’em <i>stanzos?</i> +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +What you will, Monsieur Jaques. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me nothing. Will you sing? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +More at your request than to please myself. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank you; but that they call +compliment is like th’ encounter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks me +heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly +thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +Well, I’ll end the song.—Sirs, cover the while. The Duke will drink under this +tree; he hath been all this day to look you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company. +I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast +of them. Come, warble, come. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +[<i>Sings</i>.] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + Who doth ambition shun<br/> + And loves to live i’ th’ sun,<br/> + Seeking the food he eats<br/> + And pleased with what he gets,<br/> + Come hither, come hither, come hither.<br/> + Here shall he see<br/> + No enemy<br/> + But winter and rough weather. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I’ll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my +invention. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +And I’ll sing it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Thus it goes: +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + If it do come to pass<br/> + That any man turn ass,<br/> + Leaving his wealth and ease<br/> + A stubborn will to please,<br/> + Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame;<br/> + Here shall he see<br/> + Gross fools as he,<br/> + An if he will come to me. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +What’s that “ducdame?” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +’Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I’ll go sleep if I can; +if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS.<br/> +And I’ll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepared. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt severally.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.6"></a><b>SCENE VI. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Adam</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie I down and +measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a little, +cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, I will +either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death +than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable. Hold death awhile at the arm’s +end. I will here be with thee presently, and if I bring thee not something to +eat, I’ll give thee leave to die. But if thou diest before I come, thou art a +mocker of my labour. Well said, thou look’st cheerly, and I’ll be with thee +quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some +shelter and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner if there live anything in +this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneII_4.7"></a><b>SCENE VII. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Duke Senior, Amiens</span> +and <span class="charname">Lords</span> as outlaws.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +I think he be transformed into a beast,<br/> +For I can nowhere find him like a man. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +My lord, he is but even now gone hence;<br/> +Here was he merry, hearing of a song. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +If he, compact of jars, grow musical,<br/> +We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.<br/> +Go seek him, tell him I would speak with him. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Jaques</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +He saves my labour by his own approach. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this<br/> +That your poor friends must woo your company?<br/> +What, you look merrily. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ th’ forest,<br/> +A motley fool. A miserable world!<br/> +As I do live by food, I met a fool,<br/> +Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,<br/> +And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,<br/> +In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.<br/> +“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he,<br/> +“Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.”<br/> +And then he drew a dial from his poke,<br/> +And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,<br/> +Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock.<br/> +Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags.<br/> +’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,<br/> +And after one hour more ’twill be eleven.<br/> +And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,<br/> +And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,<br/> +And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear<br/> +The motley fool thus moral on the time,<br/> +My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,<br/> +That fools should be so deep-contemplative,<br/> +And I did laugh sans intermission<br/> +An hour by his dial. O noble fool!<br/> +A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +What fool is this? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +O worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier,<br/> +And says if ladies be but young and fair,<br/> +They have the gift to know it. And in his brain,<br/> +Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit<br/> +After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed<br/> +With observation, the which he vents<br/> +In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!<br/> +I am ambitious for a motley coat. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Thou shalt have one. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +It is my only suit,<br/> +Provided that you weed your better judgements<br/> +Of all opinion that grows rank in them<br/> +That I am wise. I must have liberty<br/> +Withal, as large a charter as the wind,<br/> +To blow on whom I please, for so fools have.<br/> +And they that are most galled with my folly,<br/> +They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?<br/> +The “why” is plain as way to parish church.<br/> +He that a fool doth very wisely hit<br/> +Doth very foolishly, although he smart,<br/> +Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,<br/> +The wise man’s folly is anatomized<br/> +Even by the squandering glances of the fool.<br/> +Invest me in my motley. Give me leave<br/> +To speak my mind, and I will through and through<br/> +Cleanse the foul body of th’ infected world,<br/> +If they will patiently receive my medicine. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +What, for a counter, would I do but good? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin;<br/> +For thou thyself hast been a libertine,<br/> +As sensual as the brutish sting itself,<br/> +And all th’ embossed sores and headed evils<br/> +That thou with license of free foot hast caught<br/> +Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Why, who cries out on pride<br/> +That can therein tax any private party?<br/> +Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea<br/> +Till that the weary very means do ebb?<br/> +What woman in the city do I name<br/> +When that I say the city-woman bears<br/> +The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?<br/> +Who can come in and say that I mean her,<br/> +When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?<br/> +Or what is he of basest function<br/> +That says his bravery is not on my cost,<br/> +Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits<br/> +His folly to the mettle of my speech?<br/> +There then. How then, what then? Let me see wherein<br/> +My tongue hath wronged him. If it do him right,<br/> +Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free,<br/> +Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies<br/> +Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here? +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> with sword +drawn.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Forbear, and eat no more. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Why, I have eat none yet. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Nor shalt not till necessity be served. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Of what kind should this cock come of? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress?<br/> +Or else a rude despiser of good manners,<br/> +That in civility thou seem’st so empty? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +You touched my vein at first. The thorny point<br/> +Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show<br/> +Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred<br/> +And know some nurture. But forbear, I say!<br/> +He dies that touches any of this fruit<br/> +Till I and my affairs are answered. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +What would you have? Your gentleness shall force<br/> +More than your force move us to gentleness. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I almost die for food, and let me have it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you.<br/> +I thought that all things had been savage here<br/> +And therefore put I on the countenance<br/> +Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are<br/> +That in this desert inaccessible,<br/> +Under the shade of melancholy boughs,<br/> +Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,<br/> +If ever you have looked on better days,<br/> +If ever been where bells have knolled to church,<br/> +If ever sat at any good man’s feast,<br/> +If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear,<br/> +And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied,<br/> +Let gentleness my strong enforcement be,<br/> +In the which hope I blush and hide my sword. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +True is it that we have seen better days,<br/> +And have with holy bell been knolled to church,<br/> +And sat at good men’s feasts, and wiped our eyes<br/> +Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered.<br/> +And therefore sit you down in gentleness,<br/> +And take upon command what help we have<br/> +That to your wanting may be ministered. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Then but forbear your food a little while,<br/> +Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,<br/> +And give it food. There is an old poor man<br/> +Who after me hath many a weary step<br/> +Limped in pure love. Till he be first sufficed,<br/> +Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger,<br/> +I will not touch a bit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Go find him out,<br/> +And we will nothing waste till you return. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.<br/> +This wide and universal theatre<br/> +Presents more woeful pageants than the scene<br/> +Wherein we play in. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +All the world’s a stage,<br/> +And all the men and women merely players;<br/> +They have their exits and their entrances,<br/> +And one man in his time plays many parts,<br/> +His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,<br/> +Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;<br/> +Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel<br/> +And shining morning face, creeping like snail<br/> +Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,<br/> +Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad<br/> +Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,<br/> +Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,<br/> +Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,<br/> +Seeking the bubble reputation<br/> +Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,<br/> +In fair round belly with good capon lined,<br/> +With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,<br/> +Full of wise saws and modern instances;<br/> +And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts<br/> +Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,<br/> +With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,<br/> +His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide<br/> +For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,<br/> +Turning again toward childish treble, pipes<br/> +And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,<br/> +That ends this strange eventful history,<br/> +Is second childishness and mere oblivion,<br/> +Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> bearing +<span class="charname">Adam</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,<br/> +And let him feed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I thank you most for him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ADAM.<br/> +So had you need;<br/> +I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Welcome, fall to. I will not trouble you<br/> +As yet to question you about your fortunes.<br/> +Give us some music, and good cousin, sing. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +SONG. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AMIENS. (<i>Sings</i>.)<br/> + Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br/> + Thou art not so unkind<br/> + As man’s ingratitude.<br/> + Thy tooth is not so keen,<br/> + Because thou art not seen,<br/> + Although thy breath be rude.<br/> +Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly.<br/> +Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.<br/> + Then, heigh-ho, the holly!<br/> + This life is most jolly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br/> + That dost not bite so nigh<br/> + As benefits forgot.<br/> + Though thou the waters warp,<br/> + Thy sting is not so sharp<br/> + As friend remembered not.<br/> +Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly.<br/> +Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.<br/> + Then, heigh-ho, the holly!<br/> + This life is most jolly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son,<br/> +As you have whispered faithfully you were,<br/> +And as mine eye doth his effigies witness<br/> +Most truly limned and living in your face,<br/> +Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke<br/> +That loved your father. The residue of your fortune<br/> +Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man,<br/> +Thou art right welcome as thy master is.<br/> +Support him by the arm. [<i>To Orlando</i>.] Give me your hand,<br/> +And let me all your fortunes understand. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="sceneIII_4.1"></a><b>ACT III</b></h2> + +<h3><b>SCENE I. A Room in the Palace</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Duke Frederick, Lords</span> +and <span class="charname">Oliver</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be.<br/> +But were I not the better part made mercy,<br/> +I should not seek an absent argument<br/> +Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:<br/> +Find out thy brother wheresoe’er he is.<br/> +Seek him with candle. Bring him dead or living<br/> +Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more<br/> +To seek a living in our territory.<br/> +Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine<br/> +Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,<br/> +Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth<br/> +Of what we think against thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +O that your highness knew my heart in this:<br/> +I never loved my brother in my life. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE FREDERICK.<br/> +More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors,<br/> +And let my officers of such a nature<br/> +Make an extent upon his house and lands.<br/> +Do this expediently, and turn him going. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIII_4.2"></a><b>SCENE II. The Forest of Arden</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> with a +paper.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.<br/> + And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey<br/> +With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,<br/> + Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway.<br/> +O Rosalind, these trees shall be my books,<br/> + And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character,<br/> +That every eye which in this forest looks<br/> + Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere.<br/> +Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree<br/> +The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Corin</span> and +<span class="charname">Touchstone</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that +it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like +it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in +respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in +the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour +well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. +Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +No more but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that +he that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends; that +the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat +sheep; and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that +hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes +of a very dull kindred. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +No, truly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Then thou art damned. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Nay, I hope. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +For not being at court? Your reason. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw’st good manners; if thou never +saw’st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, +and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as +ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at +the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you kiss your hands. +That courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Instance, briefly. Come, instance. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? And is not the grease of a mutton as +wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say. +Come. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Besides, our hands are hard. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance, +come. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you +have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Most shallow man! Thou worm’s meat in respect of a good piece of flesh +indeed! Learn of the wise and perpend. Civet is of a baser birth than tar, the +very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll rest. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee, +thou art raw. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Sir, I am a true labourer. I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, +envy no man’s happiness, glad of other men’s good, content with my harm; and +the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and +to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a +bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, +cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for this, +the devil himself will have no shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst +’scape. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> as Ganymede. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>Reads</i>.]<br/> + <i>From the east to western Inde<br/> + No jewel is like Rosalind.<br/> + Her worth being mounted on the wind,<br/> + Through all the world bears Rosalind.<br/> + All the pictures fairest lined<br/> + Are but black to Rosalind.<br/> + Let no face be kept in mind<br/> + But the fair of Rosalind.</i> +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping +hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s rank to market. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Out, fool! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> + For a taste:<br/> + If a hart do lack a hind,<br/> + Let him seek out Rosalind.<br/> + If the cat will after kind,<br/> + So be sure will Rosalind.<br/> + Winter garments must be lined,<br/> + So must slender Rosalind.<br/> + They that reap must sheaf and bind,<br/> + Then to cart with Rosalind.<br/> + Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,<br/> + Such a nut is Rosalind.<br/> + He that sweetest rose will find<br/> + Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.<br/> +This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you infect yourself with them? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I’ll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will +be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten ere you be half +ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Celia</span> as Aliena, +reading a paper.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Peace, here comes my sister, reading. Stand aside. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +[<i>Reads</i>.]<br/> + <i>Why should this a desert be?<br/> + For it is unpeopled? No!<br/> + Tongues I’ll hang on every tree<br/> + That shall civil sayings show.<br/> + Some, how brief the life of man<br/> + Runs his erring pilgrimage,<br/> + That the streching of a span<br/> + Buckles in his sum of age;<br/> + Some, of violated vows<br/> + ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend.<br/> + But upon the fairest boughs,<br/> + Or at every sentence’ end,<br/> + Will I “Rosalinda” write,<br/> + Teaching all that read to know<br/> + The quintessence of every sprite<br/> + Heaven would in little show.<br/> + Therefore heaven nature charged<br/> + That one body should be filled<br/> + With all graces wide-enlarged.<br/> + Nature presently distilled<br/> + Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,<br/> + Cleopatra’s majesty;<br/> + Atalanta’s better part,<br/> + Sad Lucretia’s modesty.<br/> + Thus Rosalind of many parts<br/> + By heavenly synod was devised,<br/> + Of many faces, eyes, and hearts<br/> + To have the touches dearest prized.<br/> + Heaven would that she these gifts should have,<br/> + And I to live and die her slave.</i> +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied your +parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +How now! Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat, though not with bag and +baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Corin</span> and +<span class="charname">Touchstone</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Didst thou hear these verses? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feet +than the verses would bear. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, +and therefore stood lamely in the verse. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved +upon these trees? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for look here +what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’ time +that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Trow you who hath done this? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Is it a man? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I prithee, who? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be +removed with earthquakes and so encounter. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, but who is it? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Is it possible? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and +after that, out of all whooping! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Good my complexion! Dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have +a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of +discovery. I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou +couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as +wine comes out of narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at once or none at +all. I prithee take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +So you may put a man in your belly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin +worth a beard? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Nay, he hath but a little beard. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the growth of +his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both +in an instant. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true maid. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I’ faith, coz, ’tis he. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Orlando? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Orlando. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou +saw’st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? +Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt +thou see him again? Answer me in one word. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first. ’Tis a word too great for any mouth +of this age’s size. To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to +answer in a catechism. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man’s apparel? Looks he as +freshly as he did the day he wrestled? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover. But +take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him +under a tree, like a dropped acorn. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +It may well be called Jove’s tree when it drops forth such fruit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Give me audience, good madam. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Cry “holla!” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was +furnished like a hunter. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Jaques</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +’Tis he! Slink by, and note him. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i><span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span> step aside.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I thank you for your company but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself +alone. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +God be wi’ you, let’s meet as little as we can. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I do desire we may be better strangers. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Rosalind is your love’s name? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Yes, just. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I do not like her name. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +What stature is she of? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Just as high as my heart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ +wives, and conned them out of rings? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your +questions. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +You have a nimble wit. I think ’twas made of Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit +down with me? And we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our +misery. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most +faults. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +The worst fault you have is to be in love. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +There I shall see mine own figure. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Jaques</span>.—<span class="charname">Celia</span> +and <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> come forward.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave +with him.<br/> +Do you hear, forester? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Very well. What would you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I pray you, what is’t o’clock? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s no clock in the forest. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing every minute and +groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of time as well as a clock. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I’ll tell +you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and +who he stands still withal. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I prithee, who doth he trot withal? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and +the day it is solemnized. If the interim be but a se’nnight, time’s pace is so +hard that it seems the length of seven year. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Who ambles time withal? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the +one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because +he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the +other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These time ambles withal. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Who doth he gallop withal? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he +thinks himself too soon there. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Who stays it still withal? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then +they perceive not how time moves. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Where dwell you, pretty youth? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe +upon a petticoat. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Are you native of this place? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a +dwelling. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I have been told so of many. But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught +me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew courtship too +well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against +it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences +as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of +women? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +There were none principal. They were all like one another as halfpence are, +every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I prithee recount some of them. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +No. I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man +haunts the forest that abuses our young plants with carving “Rosalind” on their +barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, +deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give +him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell me your remedy. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you. He taught me how to know a man in +love, in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What were his marks? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an +unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have +not—but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger +brother’s revenue. Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, +your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you +demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man. You are rather +point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover +of any other. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love believe it, which I +warrant she is apter to do than to confess she does. That is one of the points +in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, +are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that +unfortunate he. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a +whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is +that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess +curing it by counsel. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Did you ever cure any so? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress, and +I set him every day to woo me; at which time would I, being but a moonish +youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, +fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for +every passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women +are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe +him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; +that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of +madness, which was to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a +nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him, and this way will I take upon me to +wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not be one +spot of love in ’t. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I would not be cured, youth. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my +cote and woo me. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and by the way you shall tell me +where in the forest you live. Will you go? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +With all my heart, good youth. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIII_4.3"></a><b>SCENE III. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Touchstone</span> and +<span class="charname">Audrey; Jaques</span> at a distance observing them. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Come apace, good Audrey. I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? +Am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Your features, Lord warrant us! What features? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, +was among the Goths. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with +the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great +reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +I do not know what “poetical” is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true +thing? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are given to +poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said, as lovers, they do feign. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I do, truly, for thou swear’st to me thou art honest. Now if thou wert a poet, +I might have some hope thou didst feign. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Would you not have me honest? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to +have honey a sauce to sugar. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] A material fool! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an +unclean dish. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; sluttishness may come hereafter. +But be it as it may be, I will marry thee. And to that end I have been with Sir +Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in +this place of the forest and to couple us. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] I would fain see this meeting. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Well, the gods give us joy! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt, for +here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what +though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said, “Many a +man knows no end of his goods.” Right. Many a man has good horns and knows no +end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. +Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no, the noblest deer hath them as huge as +the rascal. Is the single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town is more +worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable +than the bare brow of a bachelor. And by how much defence is better than no +skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Sir Oliver Martext</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Here comes Sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch +us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +MARTEXT.<br/> +Is there none here to give the woman? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I will not take her on gift of any man. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +MARTEXT.<br/> +Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +[<i>Coming forward</i>.] Proceed, proceed. I’ll give her. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t, how do you, sir? You are very well +met. God ’ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see you. Even a toy +in hand here, sir. Nay, pray be covered. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Will you be married, motley? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so +man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush like a +beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what +marriage is. This fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then +one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber, warp, warp. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +[<i>Aside</i>.] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of +another, for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well married, it +will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.<br/> +Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not<br/> + <i>O sweet Oliver,<br/> + O brave Oliver,<br/> + Leave me not behind thee.</i><br/> +But<br/> + <i>Wind away,—<br/> + Begone, I say,<br/> + I will not to wedding with thee.</i> +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Touchstone, Audrey</span> and +<span class="charname">Jaques</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +MARTEXT.<br/> +’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my +calling. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIII_4.4"></a><b>SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Before a Cottage</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Never talk to me, I will weep. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Do, I prithee, but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a +man. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But have I not cause to weep? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +His very hair is of the dissembling colour. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Something browner than Judas’s. Marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +An excellent colour. Your chestnut was ever the only colour. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A nun of winter’s sisterhood +kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Do you think so? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Yes. I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in +love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Not true in love? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +You have heard him swear downright he was. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +“Was” is not “is”. Besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of +a tapster. They are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in +the forest on the Duke your father. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me of what +parentage I was. I told him, of as good as he, so he laughed and let me go. But +what talk we of fathers when there is such a man as Orlando? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O, that’s a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave +oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover, +as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a +noble goose. But all’s brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes +here? +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Corin</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Mistress and master, you have oft enquired<br/> +After the shepherd that complained of love,<br/> +Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,<br/> +Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess<br/> +That was his mistress. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Well, and what of him? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +If you will see a pageant truly played<br/> +Between the pale complexion of true love<br/> +And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,<br/> +Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,<br/> +If you will mark it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O, come, let us remove.<br/> +The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.<br/> +Bring us to this sight, and you shall say<br/> +I’ll prove a busy actor in their play. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIII_4.5"></a><b>SCENE V. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Silvius</span> and +<span class="charname">Phoebe</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me, do not, Phoebe.<br/> +Say that you love me not, but say not so<br/> +In bitterness. The common executioner,<br/> +Whose heart th’ accustomed sight of death makes hard,<br/> +Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck<br/> +But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be<br/> +Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind, Celia</span> and +<span class="charname">Corin</span>, at a distance. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +I would not be thy executioner;<br/> +I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.<br/> +Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye.<br/> +’Tis pretty, sure, and very probable<br/> +That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,<br/> +Who shut their coward gates on atomies,<br/> +Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers.<br/> +Now I do frown on thee with all my heart,<br/> +And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.<br/> +Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down;<br/> +Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,<br/> +Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.<br/> +Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.<br/> +Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains<br/> +Some scar of it; lean upon a rush,<br/> +The cicatrice and capable impressure<br/> +Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,<br/> +Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;<br/> +Nor I am sure there is not force in eyes<br/> +That can do hurt. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +O dear Phoebe,<br/> +If ever—as that ever may be near—<br/> +You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,<br/> +Then shall you know the wounds invisible<br/> +That love’s keen arrows make. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +But till that time<br/> +Come not thou near me. And when that time comes,<br/> +Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,<br/> +As till that time I shall not pity thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>Advancing</i>.] And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,<br/> +That you insult, exult, and all at once,<br/> +Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty—<br/> +As, by my faith, I see no more in you<br/> +Than without candle may go dark to bed—<br/> +Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?<br/> +Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?<br/> +I see no more in you than in the ordinary<br/> +Of nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,<br/> +I think she means to tangle my eyes too!<br/> +No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.<br/> +’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,<br/> +Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,<br/> +That can entame my spirits to your worship.<br/> +You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,<br/> +Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?<br/> +You are a thousand times a properer man<br/> +Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you<br/> +That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.<br/> +’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,<br/> +And out of you she sees herself more proper<br/> +Than any of her lineaments can show her.<br/> +But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,<br/> +And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love.<br/> +For I must tell you friendly in your ear,<br/> +Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.<br/> +Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;<br/> +Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.<br/> +So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together!<br/> +I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +He’s fall’n in love with your foulness, and she’ll fall in love with my anger. +If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll sauce her +with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +For no ill will I bear you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I pray you do not fall in love with me,<br/> +For I am falser than vows made in wine.<br/> +Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,<br/> +’Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.<br/> +Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.<br/> +Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,<br/> +And be not proud. Though all the world could see,<br/> +None could be so abused in sight as he.<br/> +Come, to our flock. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Rosalind, Celia</span> and +<span class="charname">Corin</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:<br/> +“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Sweet Phoebe— +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Sweet Phoebe, pity me. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.<br/> +If you do sorrow at my grief in love,<br/> +By giving love your sorrow and my grief<br/> +Were both extermined. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Thou hast my love. Is not that neighbourly? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +I would have you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Why, that were covetousness.<br/> +Silvius, the time was that I hated thee;<br/> +And yet it is not that I bear thee love;<br/> +But since that thou canst talk of love so well,<br/> +Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,<br/> +I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too.<br/> +But do not look for further recompense<br/> +Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +So holy and so perfect is my love,<br/> +And I in such a poverty of grace,<br/> +That I shall think it a most plenteous crop<br/> +To glean the broken ears after the man<br/> +That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then<br/> +A scattered smile, and that I’ll live upon. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Not very well, but I have met him oft,<br/> +And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds<br/> +That the old carlot once was master of. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Think not I love him, though I ask for him.<br/> +’Tis but a peevish boy—yet he talks well.<br/> +But what care I for words? Yet words do well<br/> +When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.<br/> +It is a pretty youth—not very pretty—<br/> +But sure he’s proud, and yet his pride becomes him.<br/> +He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him<br/> +Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue<br/> +Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.<br/> +He is not very tall, yet for his years he’s tall;<br/> +His leg is but so-so, and yet ’tis well.<br/> +There was a pretty redness in his lip,<br/> +A little riper and more lusty red<br/> +Than that mixed in his cheek. ’Twas just the difference<br/> +Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.<br/> +There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him<br/> +In parcels as I did, would have gone near<br/> +To fall in love with him; but for my part<br/> +I love him not nor hate him not; and yet<br/> +I have more cause to hate him than to love him.<br/> +For what had he to do to chide at me?<br/> +He said mine eyes were black and my hair black,<br/> +And now I am remembered, scorned at me.<br/> +I marvel why I answered not again.<br/> +But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance.<br/> +I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,<br/> +And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Phoebe, with all my heart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +I’ll write it straight,<br/> +The matter’s in my head and in my heart.<br/> +I will be bitter with him and passing short.<br/> +Go with me, Silvius. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="sceneIV_4.1"></a><b>ACT IV</b></h2> + +<h3><b>SCENE I. The Forest of Arden</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind, Celia</span> and +<span class="charname">Jaques</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +They say you are a melancholy fellow. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I am so; I do love it better than laughing. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray +themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why then, ’tis good to be a post. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the +musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor the +soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is politic; nor the +lady’s, which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all these; but it is a +melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many +objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often +rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad. I fear you have sold +your own lands to see other men’s. Then to have seen much and to have nothing +is to have rich eyes and poor hands. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Yes, I have gained my experience. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a fool to make me merry +than experience to make me sad—and to travel for it too. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you lisp and wear strange suits; disable all +the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost +chide God for making you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you +have swam in a gondola. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Jaques</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while? You a lover! An you +serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand +parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of +love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but +I’ll warrant him heart-whole. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Pardon me, dear Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of a +snail. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Of a snail? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, of a snail, for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head—a +better jointure, I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he brings his destiny +with him. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What’s that? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for. But +he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And I am your Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than +you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to +consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very Rosalind? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I would kiss before I spoke. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of +matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, +they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest +shift is to kiss. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +How if the kiss be denied? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty +ranker than my wit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What, of my suit? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Then, in mine own person, I die. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, +and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, +<i>videlicet</i>, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a +Grecian club, yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the +patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year though Hero had +turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he +went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and, being taken with the cramp, +was drowned; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was Hero of +Sestos. But these are all lies. Men have died from time to time and worms have +eaten them, but not for love. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frown +might kill me. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosalind in +a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Then love me, Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And wilt thou have me? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, and twenty such. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +What sayest thou? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Are you not good? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I hope so. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?—Come, sister, you shall be +the priest and marry us.—Give me your hand, Orlando.—What do you say, sister? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Pray thee, marry us. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I cannot say the words. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +You must begin “Will you, Orlando—” + +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I will. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, but when? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Why now, as fast as she can marry us. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Then you must say “I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I might ask you for your commission. But I do take thee, Orlando, for my +husband. There’s a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman’s +thought runs before her actions. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +So do all thoughts. They are winged. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +For ever and a day. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Say “a day” without the “ever.” No, no, Orlando, men are April when they woo, +December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes +when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon +over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than +an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for nothing, like +Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry. I +will laugh like a hyena, and that when thou are inclined to sleep. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +But will my Rosalind do so? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +By my life, she will do as I do. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +O, but she is wise. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser, the waywarder. Make +the doors upon a woman’s wit, and it will out at the casement. Shut that, and +’twill out at the keyhole. Stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the +chimney. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, “Wit, whither wilt?” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to +your neighbour’s bed. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And what wit could wit have to excuse that? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her +answer unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make +her fault her husband’s occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for +she will breed it like a fool. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o’clock I will be with thee again. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would prove. My friends told me +as much, and I thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me. ’Tis +but one cast away, and so, come death! Two o’clock is your hour? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Ay, sweet Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths +that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or come one +minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, +and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that +may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore beware my +censure, and keep your promise. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time +try. Adieu. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Orlando</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate! We must have your doublet +and hose plucked over your head and show the world what the bird hath done to +her own nest. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom +deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown +bottom, like the Bay of Portugal. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of +spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses everyone’s +eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I’ll +tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I’ll go find a +shadow and sigh till he come. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +And I’ll sleep. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIV_4.2"></a><b>SCENE II. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Jaques</span> and Lords, like +foresters.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Which is he that killed the deer? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST LORD.<br/> +Sir, it was I. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Let’s present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror, and it would do well to +set the deer’s horns upon his head for a branch of victory. Have you no song, +forester, for this purpose? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND LORD.<br/> +Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Sing it. ’Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SONG +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND LORD.<br/> +[<i>Sings</i>.]<br/> + What shall he have that killed the deer?<br/> + His leather skin and horns to wear.<br/> + Then sing him home:<br/> + [<i>The rest shall bear this burden</i>.]<br/> + Take thou no scorn to wear the horn.<br/> + It was a crest ere thou wast born.<br/> + Thy father’s father wore it<br/> + And thy father bore it.<br/> + The horn, the horn, the lusty horn<br/> + Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneIV_4.3"></a><b>SCENE III. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? And here much Orlando. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain he hath ta’en his bow and +arrows and is gone forth to sleep. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Silvius</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Look who comes here. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +My errand is to you, fair youth.<br/> +My gentle Phoebe did bid me give you this. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Giving a letter.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +I know not the contents, but, as I guess<br/> +By the stern brow and waspish action<br/> +Which she did use as she was writing of it,<br/> +It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me,<br/> +I am but as a guiltless messenger. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Patience herself would startle at this letter<br/> +And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all!<br/> +She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;<br/> +She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,<br/> +Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will,<br/> +Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.<br/> +Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,<br/> +This is a letter of your own device. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +No, I protest, I know not the contents.<br/> +Phoebe did write it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Come, come, you are a fool,<br/> +And turned into the extremity of love.<br/> +I saw her hand. She has a leathern hand,<br/> +A freestone-coloured hand. I verily did think<br/> +That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands.<br/> +She has a huswife’s hand—but that’s no matter.<br/> +I say she never did invent this letter;<br/> +This is a man’s invention, and his hand. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Sure, it is hers. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style,<br/> +A style for challengers. Why, she defies me,<br/> +Like Turk to Christian. Women’s gentle brain<br/> +Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,<br/> +Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect<br/> +Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +So please you, for I never heard it yet,<br/> +Yet heard too much of Phoebe’s cruelty. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Reads.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> + <i>Art thou god to shepherd turned,<br/> + That a maiden’s heart hath burned?</i><br/> +Can a woman rail thus? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Call you this railing? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> + <i>Why, thy godhead laid apart,<br/> + Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?</i><br/> +Did you ever hear such railing?<br/> + <i>Whiles the eye of man did woo me,<br/> + That could do no vengeance to me.</i><br/> +Meaning me a beast.<br/> + <i>If the scorn of your bright eyne<br/> Have power to raise such love in mine,<br/> Alack, in me what strange effect<br/> - Would they work in mild aspect!<br/> - Whiles you chid me, I did love;<br/> - How then might your prayers move!<br/> - He that brings this love to the<br/> + Would they work in mild aspect?<br/> + Whiles you chid me, I did love,<br/> + How then might your prayers move?<br/> + He that brings this love to thee<br/> Little knows this love in me;<br/> And by him seal up thy mind,<br/> Whether that thy youth and kind<br/> Will the faithful offer take<br/> - Of me and all that I can make;<br/> + Of me, and all that I can make,<br/> Or else by him my love deny,<br/> - And then I'll study how to die.'<br/> - SILVIUS. Call you this chiding?<br/> - CELIA. Alas, poor shepherd!<br/> - ROSALIND. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love<br/> - such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument, and play false<br/> - strains upon thee! Not to be endur'd! Well, go your way to her,<br/> - for I see love hath made thee tame snake, and say this to her-<br/> - that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not,<br/> - I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a<br/> - true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.<br/> - Exit SILVIUS<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter OLIVER</p> - -<p> OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know,<br/> - Where in the purlieus of this forest stands<br/> - A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?<br/> - CELIA. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom.<br/> - The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream<br/> - Left on your right hand brings you to the place.<br/> - But at this hour the house doth keep itself;<br/> - There's none within.<br/> - OLIVER. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,<br/> - Then should I know you by description-<br/> - Such garments, and such years: 'The boy is fair,<br/> - Of female favour, and bestows himself<br/> - Like a ripe sister; the woman low,<br/> - And browner than her brother.' Are not you<br/> - The owner of the house I did inquire for?<br/> - CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.<br/> - OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both;<br/> - And to that youth he calls his Rosalind<br/> - He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?<br/> - ROSALIND. I am. What must we understand by this?<br/> - OLIVER. Some of my shame; if you will know of me<br/> - What man I am, and how, and why, and where,<br/> - This handkercher was stain'd.<br/> - CELIA. I pray you, tell it.<br/> - OLIVER. When last the young Orlando parted from you,<br/> - He left a promise to return again<br/> - Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,<br/> - Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,<br/> - Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside,<br/> - And mark what object did present itself.<br/> - Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,<br/> - And high top bald with dry antiquity,<br/> - A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,<br/> - Lay sleeping on his back. About his neck<br/> - A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,<br/> - Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd<br/> - The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,<br/> - Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,<br/> - And with indented glides did slip away<br/> - Into a bush; under which bush's shade<br/> - A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,<br/> - Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,<br/> - When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis<br/> - The royal disposition of that beast<br/> - To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.<br/> - This seen, Orlando did approach the man,<br/> - And found it was his brother, his elder brother.<br/> - CELIA. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;<br/> - And he did render him the most unnatural<br/> - That liv'd amongst men.<br/> - OLIVER. And well he might so do,<br/> - For well I know he was unnatural.<br/> - ROSALIND. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,<br/> - Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?<br/> - OLIVER. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so;<br/> - But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,<br/> - And nature, stronger than his just occasion,<br/> - Made him give battle to the lioness,<br/> - Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling<br/> - From miserable slumber I awak'd.<br/> - CELIA. Are you his brother?<br/> - ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd?<br/> - CELIA. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?<br/> - OLIVER. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame<br/> - To tell you what I was, since my conversion<br/> - So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.<br/> - ROSALIND. But for the bloody napkin?<br/> - OLIVER. By and by.<br/> - When from the first to last, betwixt us two,<br/> - Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,<br/> - As how I came into that desert place-<br/> - In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,<br/> - Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,<br/> - Committing me unto my brother's love;<br/> - Who led me instantly unto his cave,<br/> - There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm<br/> - The lioness had torn some flesh away,<br/> - Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,<br/> - And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.<br/> - Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound,<br/> - And, after some small space, being strong at heart,<br/> - He sent me hither, stranger as I am,<br/> - To tell this story, that you might excuse<br/> - His broken promise, and to give this napkin,<br/> - Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth<br/> - That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.<br/> - [ROSALIND swoons]<br/> - CELIA. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!<br/> - OLIVER. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.<br/> - CELIA. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!<br/> - OLIVER. Look, he recovers.<br/> - ROSALIND. I would I were at home.<br/> - CELIA. We'll lead you thither.<br/> - I pray you, will you take him by the arm?<br/> - OLIVER. Be of good cheer, youth. You a man!<br/> - You lack a man's heart.<br/> - ROSALIND. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think<br/> - this was well counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how<br/> - well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!<br/> - OLIVER. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in<br/> - your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.<br/> - ROSALIND. Counterfeit, I assure you.<br/> - OLIVER. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.<br/> - ROSALIND. So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by<br/> - right.<br/> - CELIA. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you draw homewards.<br/> - Good sir, go with us.<br/> - OLIVER. That will I, for I must bear answer back<br/> - How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my<br/> - counterfeiting to him. Will you go? Exeunt<br/> + And then I’ll study how to die.</i> </p> -<h4>ACT V. SCENE I. -The forest</h4> +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Call you this chiding? +</p> -<p>Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY</p> +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Alas, poor shepherd. +</p> -<p> TOUCHSTONE. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.<br/> - AUDREY. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old<br/> - gentleman's saying.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext.<br/> - But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to<br/> - you.<br/> - AUDREY. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the<br/> - world; here comes the man you mean.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter WILLIAM</p> - -<p> TOUCHSTONE. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth,<br/> - we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be<br/> - flouting; we cannot hold.<br/> - WILLIAM. Good ev'n, Audrey.<br/> - AUDREY. God ye good ev'n, William.<br/> - WILLIAM. And good ev'n to you, sir.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy<br/> - head; nay, prithee be cover'd. How old are you, friend?<br/> - WILLIAM. Five and twenty, sir.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. A ripe age. Is thy name William?<br/> - WILLIAM. William, sir.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here?<br/> - WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I thank God.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. 'Thank God.' A good answer.<br/> - Art rich?<br/> - WILLIAM. Faith, sir, so so.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and<br/> - yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?<br/> - WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying: 'The<br/> - fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be<br/> - a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a<br/> - grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning<br/> - thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do<br/> - love this maid?<br/> - WILLIAM. I do, sir.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Give me your hand. Art thou learned?<br/> - WILLIAM. No, sir.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Then learn this of me: to have is to have; for it is a<br/> - figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour'd out of cup into a<br/> - glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your<br/> - writers do consent that ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I<br/> - am he.<br/> - WILLIAM. Which he, sir?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you<br/> - clown, abandon- which is in the vulgar leave- the society- which<br/> - in the boorish is company- of this female- which in the common is<br/> - woman- which together is: abandon the society of this female; or,<br/> - clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest;<br/> - or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into<br/> - death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee,<br/> - or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction;<br/> - will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and<br/> - fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart.<br/> - AUDREY. Do, good William.<br/> - WILLIAM. God rest you merry, sir. Exit<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter CORIN</p> - -<p> CORIN. Our master and mistress seeks you; come away, away.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. I attend, I attend.<br/> - Exeunt<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity.—Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to +make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee? Not to be endured! +Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say +this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I +will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, +and not a word, for here comes more company. </p> -<h4>SCENE II. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER</p> - -<p> ORLANDO. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should<br/> - like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo?<br/> - and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy<br/> - her?<br/> - OLIVER. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty<br/> - of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden<br/> - consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she<br/> - loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It<br/> - shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue<br/> - that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live<br/> - and die a shepherd.<br/> - ORLANDO. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow.<br/> - Thither will I invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go<br/> - you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ROSALIND</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. God save you, brother.<br/> - OLIVER. And you, fair sister. Exit<br/> - ROSALIND. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear<br/> - thy heart in a scarf!<br/> - ORLANDO. It is my arm.<br/> - ROSALIND. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a<br/> - lion.<br/> - ORLANDO. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.<br/> - ROSALIND. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon<br/> - when he show'd me your handkercher?<br/> - ORLANDO. Ay, and greater wonders than that.<br/> - ROSALIND. O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never<br/> - any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's<br/> - thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother<br/> - and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but<br/> - they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but<br/> - they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but<br/> - they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair<br/> - of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else<br/> - be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of<br/> - love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them.<br/> - ORLANDO. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke<br/> - to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into<br/> - happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I<br/> - to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I<br/> - shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.<br/> - ROSALIND. Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for<br/> - Rosalind?<br/> - ORLANDO. I can live no longer by thinking.<br/> - ROSALIND. I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know<br/> - of me then- for now I speak to some purpose- that I know you are<br/> - a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should<br/> - bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you<br/> - are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some<br/> - little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and<br/> - not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do<br/> - strange things. I have, since I was three year old, convers'd<br/> - with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable.<br/> - If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries<br/> - it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I<br/> - know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not<br/> - impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set<br/> - her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any<br/> - danger.<br/> - ORLANDO. Speak'st thou in sober meanings?<br/> - ROSALIND. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I<br/> - am a magician. Therefore put you in your best array, bid your<br/> - friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to<br/> - Rosalind, if you will.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE</p> - -<p> Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.<br/> - PHEBE. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness<br/> - To show the letter that I writ to you.<br/> - ROSALIND. I care not if I have. It is my study<br/> - To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.<br/> - You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;<br/> - Look upon him, love him; he worships you.<br/> - PHEBE. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.<br/> - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of sighs and tears;<br/> - And so am I for Phebe.<br/> - PHEBE. And I for Ganymede.<br/> - ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. And I for no woman.<br/> - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of faith and service;<br/> - And so am I for Phebe.<br/> - PHEBE. And I for Ganymede.<br/> - ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. And I for no woman.<br/> - SILVIUS. It is to be all made of fantasy,<br/> - All made of passion, and all made of wishes;<br/> - All adoration, duty, and observance,<br/> - All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,<br/> - All purity, all trial, all obedience;<br/> - And so am I for Phebe.<br/> - PHEBE. And so am I for Ganymede.<br/> - ORLANDO. And so am I for Rosalind.<br/> - ROSALIND. And so am I for no woman.<br/> - PHEBE. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?<br/> - SILVIUS. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?<br/> - ORLANDO. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?<br/> - ROSALIND. Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?'<br/> - ORLANDO. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.<br/> - ROSALIND. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish<br/> - wolves against the moon. [To SILVIUS] I will help you if I can.<br/> - [To PHEBE] I would love you if I could.- To-morrow meet me all<br/> - together. [To PHEBE] I will marry you if ever I marry woman,<br/> - and I'll be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if<br/> - ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To<br/> - Silvius] I will content you if what pleases you contents you, and<br/> - you shall be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] As you love<br/> - Rosalind, meet. [To SILVIUS] As you love Phebe, meet;- and as I<br/> - love no woman, I'll meet. So, fare you well; I have left you<br/> - commands.<br/> - SILVIUS. I'll not fail, if I live.<br/> - PHEBE. Nor I.<br/> - ORLANDO. Nor I. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="right">[<i>Exit <span class="charname">Silvius</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Oliver</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know,<br/> +Where in the purlieus of this forest stands<br/> +A sheepcote fenced about with olive trees? </p> -<h4>SCENE III. -The forest</h4> +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom;<br/> +The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,<br/> +Left on your right hand, brings you to the place.<br/> +But at this hour the house doth keep itself.<br/> +There’s none within. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +If that an eye may profit by a tongue,<br/> +Then should I know you by description,<br/> +Such garments, and such years. “The boy is fair,<br/> +Of female favour, and bestows himself<br/> +Like a ripe sister; the woman low,<br/> +And browner than her brother.” Are not you<br/> +The owner of the house I did inquire for? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +It is no boast, being asked, to say we are. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Orlando doth commend him to you both,<br/> +And to that youth he calls his Rosalind<br/> +He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I am. What must we understand by this? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Some of my shame, if you will know of me<br/> +What man I am, and how, and why, and where<br/> +This handkerchief was stained. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +I pray you tell it. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +When last the young Orlando parted from you,<br/> +He left a promise to return again<br/> +Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,<br/> +Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,<br/> +Lo, what befell. He threw his eye aside,<br/> +And mark what object did present itself.<br/> +Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age<br/> +And high top bald with dry antiquity,<br/> +A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair,<br/> +Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck<br/> +A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,<br/> +Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached<br/> +The opening of his mouth. But suddenly,<br/> +Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself<br/> +And with indented glides did slip away<br/> +Into a bush; under which bush’s shade<br/> +A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,<br/> +Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch<br/> +When that the sleeping man should stir. For ’tis<br/> +The royal disposition of that beast<br/> +To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.<br/> +This seen, Orlando did approach the man<br/> +And found it was his brother, his elder brother. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,<br/> +And he did render him the most unnatural<br/> +That lived amongst men. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +And well he might so do,<br/> +For well I know he was unnatural. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,<br/> +Food to the sucked and hungry lioness? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Twice did he turn his back and purposed so;<br/> +But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,<br/> +And nature, stronger than his just occasion,<br/> +Made him give battle to the lioness,<br/> +Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling<br/> +From miserable slumber I awaked. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Are you his brother? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Was it you he rescued? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +’Twas I; but ’tis not I. I do not shame<br/> +To tell you what I was, since my conversion<br/> +So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But, for the bloody napkin? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +By and by.<br/> +When from the first to last betwixt us two<br/> +Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed—<br/> +As how I came into that desert place—<br/> +In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,<br/> +Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,<br/> +Committing me unto my brother’s love,<br/> +Who led me instantly unto his cave,<br/> +There stripped himself, and here upon his arm<br/> +The lioness had torn some flesh away,<br/> +Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,<br/> +And cried in fainting upon Rosalind.<br/> +Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound,<br/> +And after some small space, being strong at heart,<br/> +He sent me hither, stranger as I am,<br/> +To tell this story, that you might excuse<br/> +His broken promise, and to give this napkin,<br/> +Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth<br/> +That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i><span class="charname">Rosalind</span> faints.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Many will swoon when they do look on blood. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +There is more in it. Cousin—Ganymede! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Look, he recovers. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I would I were at home. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +We’ll lead you thither.<br/> +I pray you, will you take him by the arm? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Be of good cheer, youth. You a man? You lack a man’s heart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well +counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +This was not counterfeit. There is too great testimony in your complexion that +it was a passion of earnest. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Counterfeit, I assure you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +So I do. But, i’ faith, I should have been a woman by right. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CELIA.<br/> +Come, you look paler and paler. Pray you draw homewards. Good sir, go with us. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +That will I, for I must bear answer back<br/> +How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I shall devise something. But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him. Will +you go? +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="sceneV_4.1"></a><b>ACT V</b></h2> + +<h3><b>SCENE I. The Forest of Arden</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Touchstone</span> and +<span class="charname">Audrey</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman’s saying. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But Audrey, there is a +youth here in the forest lays claim to you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Ay, I know who ’tis. He hath no interest in me in the world. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">William</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Here comes the man you mean. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits +have much to answer for. We shall be flouting; we cannot hold. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Good ev’n, Audrey. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +God ye good ev’n, William. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +And good ev’n to you, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Good ev’n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee, be +covered. How old are you, friend? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Five-and-twenty, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +A ripe age. Is thy name William? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +William, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +A fair name. Wast born i’ th’ forest here? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Ay, sir, I thank God. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +“Thank God.” A good answer. Art rich? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Faith, sir, so-so. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +“So-so” is good, very good, very excellent good. And yet it is not, it is but +so-so. Art thou wise? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Why, thou sayst well. I do now remember a saying: “The fool doth think he is +wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” The heathen philosopher, +when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into +his mouth, meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You +do love this maid? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +I do, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Give me your hand. Art thou learned? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +No, sir. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Then learn this of me: to have is to have. For it is a figure in rhetoric that +drink, being poured out of cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the +other. For all your writers do consent that <i>ipse</i> is “he.” Now, you are +not <i>ipse</i>, for I am he. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +Which he, sir? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon—which is in +the vulgar, “leave”—the society—which in the boorish is “company”—of this +female—which in the common is “woman”; which together is, abandon the society of +this female, or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; +or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy +liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in +steel. I will bandy with thee in faction; will o’errun thee with policy. I +will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways! Therefore tremble and depart. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +Do, good William. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +WILLIAM.<br/> +God rest you merry, sir. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Corin</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +CORIN.<br/> +Our master and mistress seek you. Come away, away. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneV_4.2"></a><b>SCENE II. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Orlando</span> and +<span class="charname">Oliver</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Is’t possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That but +seeing, you should love her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should grant? And +will you persever to enjoy her? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small +acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting. But say with me, I +love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent with both that we may +enjoy each other. It shall be to your good, for my father’s house and all the +revenue that was old Sir Rowland’s will I estate upon you, and here live and +die a shepherd. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow. Thither will I invite the +Duke and all’s contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, +here comes my Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +God save you, brother. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +OLIVER.<br/> +And you, fair sister. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf! +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +It is my arm. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your +handkercher? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Ay, and greater wonders than that. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +O, I know where you are. Nay, ’tis true. There was never anything so sudden but +the fight of two rams, and Caesar’s thrasonical brag of “I came, saw and +overcame.” For your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked; no +sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner +sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but +they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made pair of stairs to +marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before +marriage. They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together. Clubs +cannot part them. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, +how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes! By +so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how +much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why, then, tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I can live no longer by thinking. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then—for now I +speak to some purpose—that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit. I speak +not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I +know you are. Neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little +measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. +Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things. I have, since I was +three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not +damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it +out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I know into what +straits of fortune she is driven and it is not impossible to me, if it appear +not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow, human as she is, +and without any danger. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Speak’st thou in sober meanings? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +By my life, I do, which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. +Therefore put you in your best array, bid your friends; for if you will be +married tomorrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Silvius</span> and +<span class="charname">Phoebe</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Youth, you have done me much ungentleness<br/> +To show the letter that I writ to you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I care not if I have; it is my study<br/> +To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.<br/> +You are there followed by a faithful shepherd.<br/> +Look upon him, love him; he worships you. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +It is to be all made of sighs and tears,<br/> +And so am I for Phoebe. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +And I for Ganymede. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And I for Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And I for no woman. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +It is to be all made of faith and service,<br/> +And so am I for Phoebe. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +And I for Ganymede. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And I for Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And I for no woman. +</p> -<p>Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY</p> +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +It is to be all made of fantasy,<br/> +All made of passion, and all made of wishes,<br/> +All adoration, duty, and observance,<br/> +All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,<br/> +All purity, all trial, all observance,<br/> +And so am I for Phoebe. +</p> -<p> TOUCHSTONE. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audre'y; to-morrow will we<br/> - be married.<br/> - AUDREY. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no<br/> - dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come<br/> - two of the banish'd Duke's pages.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +And so am I for Ganymede. </p> -<p> Enter two PAGES</p> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +And so am I for Rosalind. +</p> -<p> FIRST PAGE. Well met, honest gentleman.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song.<br/> - SECOND PAGE. We are for you; sit i' th' middle.<br/> - FIRST PAGE. Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or<br/> - spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues<br/> - to a bad voice?<br/> - SECOND PAGE. I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies<br/> - on a horse.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +And so am I for no woman. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +[<i>To Rosalind</i>.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +[<i>To Phoebe</i>.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +If this be so, why blame you me to love you? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Why do you speak too, “Why blame you me to love you?” </p> -<p> SONG.<br/> - It was a lover and his lass,<br/> - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> - That o'er the green corn-field did pass<br/> - In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br/> +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Pray you, no more of this, ’tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the +moon.<br/> +[<i>to Silvius</i>.] I will help you if I can.<br/> +[<i>to Phoebe</i>.] I would love you if I could.—Tomorrow meet me all +together.<br/> +[<i>to Phoebe</i>.] I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I’ll be +married tomorrow.<br/> +[<i>to Orlando</i>.] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfied man, and you shall +be married tomorrow.<br/> +[<i>to Silvius</i>.] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and +you shall be married tomorrow.<br/> +[<i>to Orlando</i>.] As you love Rosalind, meet.<br/> +[<i>to Silvius</i>.] As you love Phoebe, meet.—And as I love no woman, I’ll +meet. So fare you well. I have left you commands. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +I’ll not fail, if I live. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +Nor I. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +Nor I. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneV_4.3"></a><b>SCENE III. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Touchstone</span> and +<span class="charname">Audrey</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey, tomorrow will we be married. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +AUDREY.<br/> +I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire to +desire to be a woman of the world. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter two <span class="charname">Pages</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +Here come two of the banished Duke’s pages. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST PAGE.<br/> +Well met, honest gentleman. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND PAGE.<br/> +We are for you, sit i’ th’ middle. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +FIRST PAGE.<br/> +Shall we clap into’t roundly, without hawking or spitting or saying we are +hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SECOND PAGE.<br/> +I’faith, i’faith, and both in a tune like two gipsies on a horse. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + SONG +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PAGES.<br/> +[<i>Sing</i>.]<br/> + It was a lover and his lass,<br/> + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> + That o’er the green cornfield did pass<br/> + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time,<br/> + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.<br/> + Sweet lovers love the spring.<br/> +<br/> + Between the acres of the rye,<br/> + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> + These pretty country folks would lie,<br/> + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time,<br/> + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.<br/> + Sweet lovers love the spring.<br/> +<br/> + This carol they began that hour,<br/> + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> + How that a life was but a flower,<br/> + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time,<br/> + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.<br/> + Sweet lovers love the spring.<br/> +<br/> + And therefore take the present time,<br/> + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> + For love is crowned with the prime,<br/> + In the spring-time, the only pretty ring time,<br/> When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.<br/> - Sweet lovers love the spring.<br/> + Sweet lovers love the spring. </p> -<p> Between the acres of the rye,<br/> - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> - These pretty country folks would lie,<br/> - In the spring time, &c.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE<br/> +Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the +note was very untuneable. </p> -<p> This carol they began that hour,<br/> - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> - How that a life was but a flower,<br/> - In the spring time, &c.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +FIRST PAGE.<br/> +You are deceived, sir, we kept time, we lost not our time. </p> -<p> And therefore take the present time,<br/> - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br/> - For love is crowned with the prime,<br/> - In the spring time, &c.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +By my troth, yes. I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be +wi’ you, and God mend your voices. Come, Audrey. </p> -<p> TOUCHSTONE. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great<br/> - matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.<br/> - FIRST PAGE. YOU are deceiv'd, sir; we kept time, we lost not our<br/> - time.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such<br/> - a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices. Come,<br/> - Audrey. Exeunt<br/> +<p class="right">[<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneV_4.4"></a><b>SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest</b></h3> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver</span> +and <span class="charname">Celia</span>. </p> -<h4>SCENE IV. -The forest</h4> - -<p>Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy<br/> - Can do all this that he hath promised?<br/> - ORLANDO. I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not:<br/> - As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE</p> - -<p> ROSALIND. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd:<br/> - You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,<br/> - You will bestow her on Orlando here?<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.<br/> - ROSALIND. And you say you will have her when I bring her?<br/> - ORLANDO. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.<br/> - ROSALIND. You say you'll marry me, if I be willing?<br/> - PHEBE. That will I, should I die the hour after.<br/> - ROSALIND. But if you do refuse to marry me,<br/> - You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?<br/> - PHEBE. So is the bargain.<br/> - ROSALIND. You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will?<br/> - SILVIUS. Though to have her and death were both one thing.<br/> - ROSALIND. I have promis'd to make all this matter even.<br/> - Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter;<br/> - You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter;<br/> - Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me,<br/> - Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd;<br/> - Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her<br/> - If she refuse me; and from hence I go,<br/> - To make these doubts all even.<br/> - Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. I do remember in this shepherd boy<br/> - Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.<br/> - ORLANDO. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him<br/> - Methought he was a brother to your daughter.<br/> - But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born,<br/> - And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments<br/> - Of many desperate studies by his uncle,<br/> - Whom he reports to be a great magician,<br/> - Obscured in the circle of this forest.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY</p> - -<p> JAQUES. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are<br/> - coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts which<br/> - in all tongues are call'd fools.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Salutation and greeting to you all!<br/> - JAQUES. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded<br/> - gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a<br/> - courtier, he swears.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation.<br/> - I have trod a measure; I have flatt'red a lady; I have been<br/> - politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone<br/> - three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought<br/> - one.<br/> - JAQUES. And how was that ta'en up?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the<br/> - seventh cause.<br/> - JAQUES. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. I like him very well.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in<br/> - here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear<br/> - and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A<br/> - poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a<br/> - poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that man else will. Rich<br/> - honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl<br/> - in your foul oyster.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet<br/> - diseases.<br/> - JAQUES. But, for the seventh cause: how did you find the quarrel on<br/> - the seventh cause?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. Upon a lie seven times removed- bear your body more<br/> - seeming, Audrey- as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain<br/> - courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not<br/> - cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is call'd the Retort<br/> - Courteous. If I sent him word again it was not well cut, he would<br/> - send me word he cut it to please himself. This is call'd the Quip<br/> - Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment.<br/> - This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut,<br/> - he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof<br/> - Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This<br/> - is call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome. And so to the Lie<br/> - Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.<br/> - JAQUES. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor<br/> - he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords<br/> - and parted.<br/> - JAQUES. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?<br/> - TOUCHSTONE. O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book, as you have<br/> - books for good manners. I will name you the degrees. The first,<br/> - the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the<br/> - Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the<br/> - Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance;<br/> - the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie<br/> - Direct; and you may avoid that too with an If. I knew when seven<br/> - justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were<br/> - met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as: 'If you<br/> - said so, then I said so.' And they shook hands, and swore<br/> - brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.<br/> - JAQUES. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord?<br/> - He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the<br/> - presentation of that he shoots his wit:<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA. Still MUSIC</p> - -<p> HYMEN. Then is there mirth in heaven,<br/> - When earthly things made even<br/> - Atone together.<br/> - Good Duke, receive thy daughter;<br/> - Hymen from heaven brought her,<br/> - Yea, brought her hither,<br/> - That thou mightst join her hand with his,<br/> - Whose heart within his bosom is.<br/> - ROSALIND. [To DUKE] To you I give myself, for I am yours.<br/> - [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.<br/> - ORLANDO. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.<br/> - PHEBE. If sight and shape be true,<br/> - Why then, my love adieu!<br/> - ROSALIND. I'll have no father, if you be not he;<br/> - I'll have no husband, if you be not he;<br/> - Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.<br/> - HYMEN. Peace, ho! I bar confusion;<br/> - 'Tis I must make conclusion<br/> - Of these most strange events.<br/> - Here's eight that must take hands<br/> - To join in Hymen's bands,<br/> - If truth holds true contents.<br/> - You and you no cross shall part;<br/> - You and you are heart in heart;<br/> - You to his love must accord,<br/> - Or have a woman to your lord;<br/> - You and you are sure together,<br/> - As the winter to foul weather.<br/> - Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,<br/> - Feed yourselves with questioning,<br/> - That reason wonder may diminish,<br/> - How thus we met, and these things finish.<br/> -</p> - -<p> SONG<br/> - Wedding is great Juno's crown;<br/> - O blessed bond of board and bed!<br/> - 'Tis Hymen peoples every town;<br/> - High wedlock then be honoured.<br/> - Honour, high honour, and renown,<br/> - To Hymen, god of every town!<br/> -</p> - -<p> DUKE SENIOR. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!<br/> - Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.<br/> - PHEBE. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;<br/> - Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.<br/> -</p> - -<p> Enter JAQUES de BOYS</p> - -<p> JAQUES de BOYS. Let me have audience for a word or two.<br/> - I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,<br/> - That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.<br/> - Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day<br/> - Men of great worth resorted to this forest,<br/> - Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,<br/> - In his own conduct, purposely to take<br/> - His brother here, and put him to the sword;<br/> - And to the skirts of this wild wood he came,<br/> - Where, meeting with an old religious man,<br/> - After some question with him, was converted<br/> - Both from his enterprise and from the world;<br/> - His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,<br/> - And all their lands restor'd to them again<br/> - That were with him exil'd. This to be true<br/> - I do engage my life.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Welcome, young man.<br/> - Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding:<br/> - To one, his lands withheld; and to the other,<br/> - A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.<br/> - First, in this forest let us do those ends<br/> - That here were well begun and well begot;<br/> - And after, every of this happy number,<br/> - That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us,<br/> - Shall share the good of our returned fortune,<br/> - According to the measure of their states.<br/> - Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity,<br/> - And fall into our rustic revelry.<br/> - Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all,<br/> - With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall.<br/> - JAQUES. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,<br/> - The Duke hath put on a religious life,<br/> - And thrown into neglect the pompous court.<br/> - JAQUES DE BOYS. He hath.<br/> - JAQUES. To him will I. Out of these convertites<br/> - There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.<br/> - [To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath;<br/> - Your patience and your virtue well deserves it.<br/> - [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit;<br/> - [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies<br/> - [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed;<br/> - [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage<br/> - Is but for two months victuall'd.- So to your pleasures;<br/> - I am for other than for dancing measures.<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Stay, Jaques, stay.<br/> - JAQUES. To see no pastime I. What you would have<br/> - I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. Exit<br/> - DUKE SENIOR. Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites,<br/> - As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt<br/> -</p> - -<p>EPILOGUE<br/> - EPILOGUE.<br/> - ROSALIND. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but<br/> - it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it<br/> - be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play<br/> - needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and<br/> - good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a<br/> - case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot<br/> - insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not<br/> - furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My<br/> - way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge<br/> - you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of<br/> - this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love<br/> - you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you<br/> - hates them- that between you and the women the play may please.<br/> - If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that<br/> - pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defied<br/> - not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces,<br/> - or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy,<br/> - bid me farewell.<br/> +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy<br/> +Can do all this that he hath promised? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not,<br/> +As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Rosalind, Silvius</span> and +<span class="charname">Phoebe</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +Patience once more whiles our compact is urged.<br/> +[<i>To the Duke.</i>] You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,<br/> +You will bestow her on Orlando here? </p> +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>To Orlando</i>.] And you say you will have her when I bring her? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>To Phoebe</i>.] You say you’ll marry me if I be willing? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +That will I, should I die the hour after. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +But if you do refuse to marry me,<br/> +You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +So is the bargain. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>To Silvius</i>.] You say that you’ll have Phoebe if she will? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +SILVIUS.<br/> +Though to have her and death were both one thing. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +I have promised to make all this matter even.<br/> +Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter,<br/> +You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter.<br/> +Keep your word, Phoebe, that you’ll marry me,<br/> +Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd.<br/> +Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her<br/> +If she refuse me. And from hence I go<br/> +To make these doubts all even. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +[<i>Exeunt <span class="charname">Rosalind</span> and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +I do remember in this shepherd boy<br/> +Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +My lord, the first time that I ever saw him<br/> +Methought he was a brother to your daughter.<br/> +But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born<br/> +And hath been tutored in the rudiments<br/> +Of many desperate studies by his uncle,<br/> +Whom he reports to be a great magician,<br/> +Obscured in the circle of this forest. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Touchstone</span> and +<span class="charname">Audrey</span>. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. +Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Salutation and greeting to you all. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have +so often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he swears. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I +have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine +enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have +fought one. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +And how was that ta’en up? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +How seventh cause?—Good my lord, like this fellow? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +I like him very well. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +God ’ild you, sir, I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the +rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear according as +marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, +sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else +will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house, as your pearl in +your foul oyster. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +According to the fool’s bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +But, for the seventh cause. How did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +Upon a lie seven times removed—bear your body more seeming, Audrey—as thus, +sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier’s beard. He sent me word if I +said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is called the +“retort courteous”. If I sent him word again it was not well cut, he would send +me word he cut it to please himself. This is called the “quip modest”. If again +it was not well cut, he disabled my judgement. This is called the “reply +churlish”. If again it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true. This +is called the “reproof valiant”. If again it was not well cut, he would say I +lie. This is called the “countercheck quarrelsome”, and so, to the “lie +circumstantial”, and the “lie direct”. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the +lie direct; and so we measured swords and parted. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +TOUCHSTONE.<br/> +O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as you have books for good manners. I +will name you the degrees: the first, the retort courteous; the second, the +quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; +the fifth, the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie with circumstance; +the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid but the lie direct and +you may avoid that too with an “if”. I knew when seven justices could not take +up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but +of an “if”, as, “if you said so, then I said so;” and they shook hands, and +swore brothers. Your “if” is the only peacemaker; much virtue in “if.” +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He’s as good at anything, and yet a fool. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he +shoots his wit. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc"> +Enter <span class="charname">Hymen, Rosalind</span> in woman’s clothes, and +<span class="charname">Celia</span>. Still music. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +HYMEN.<br/> + Then is there mirth in heaven<br/> + When earthly things made even<br/> + Atone together.<br/> + Good Duke, receive thy daughter.<br/> + Hymen from heaven brought her,<br/> + Yea, brought her hither,<br/> + That thou mightst join her hand with his,<br/> + Whose heart within his bosom is. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>To Duke Senior</i>.] To you I give myself, for I am yours.<br/> +[<i>To Orlando</i>.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ORLANDO.<br/> +If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +If sight and shape be true,<br/> +Why then, my love adieu. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +[<i>To Duke Senior</i>.] I’ll have no father, if you be not he.<br/> +[<i>To Orlando</i>.] I’ll have no husband, if you be not he.<br/> +[<i>To Phoebe</i>.] Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +HYMEN.<br/> + Peace, ho! I bar confusion.<br/> + ’Tis I must make conclusion<br/> + Of these most strange events.<br/> + Here’s eight that must take hands<br/> + To join in Hymen’s bands,<br/> + If truth holds true contents.<br/> +[<i>To Orlando and Rosalind</i>.] You and you no cross shall part.<br/> +[<i>To Celia and Oliver</i>.] You and you are heart in heart.<br/> +[<i>To Phoebe</i>.] You to his love must accord<br/> +Or have a woman to your lord.<br/> +[<i>To Audrey and Touchstone</i>.] You and you are sure together<br/> +As the winter to foul weather.<br/> +Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,<br/> +Feed yourselves with questioning,<br/> +That reason wonder may diminish<br/> +How thus we met, and these things finish. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> + SONG<br/> + Wedding is great Juno’s crown,<br/> + O blessed bond of board and bed.<br/> + ’Tis Hymen peoples every town,<br/> + High wedlock then be honoured.<br/> + Honour, high honour, and renown<br/> + To Hymen, god of every town. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me<br/> +Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +PHOEBE.<br/> +[<i>To Silvius</i>.] I will not eat my word, now thou art mine,<br/> +Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. +</p> + +<p class="scenedesc">Enter <span class="charname">Jaques de Boys</span>.</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES DE BOYS.<br/> +Let me have audience for a word or two.<br/> +I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,<br/> +That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.<br/> +Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day<br/> +Men of great worth resorted to this forest,<br/> +Addressed a mighty power, which were on foot<br/> +In his own conduct, purposely to take<br/> +His brother here and put him to the sword;<br/> +And to the skirts of this wild wood he came,<br/> +Where, meeting with an old religious man,<br/> +After some question with him, was converted<br/> +Both from his enterprise and from the world,<br/> +His crown bequeathing to his banished brother,<br/> +And all their lands restored to them again<br/> +That were with him exiled. This to be true<br/> +I do engage my life. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Welcome, young man.<br/> +Thou offer’st fairly to thy brother’s wedding:<br/> +To one his lands withheld, and to the other<br/> +A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.<br/> +First, in this forest let us do those ends<br/> +That here were well begun and well begot;<br/> +And after, every of this happy number<br/> +That have endured shrewd days and nights with us<br/> +Shall share the good of our returned fortune,<br/> +According to the measure of their states.<br/> +Meantime, forget this new-fall’n dignity,<br/> +And fall into our rustic revelry.<br/> +Play, music! And you brides and bridegrooms all,<br/> +With measure heaped in joy to th’ measures fall. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,<br/> +The Duke hath put on a religious life<br/> +And thrown into neglect the pompous court. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES DE BOYS.<br/> +He hath. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +To him will I. Out of these convertites<br/> +There is much matter to be heard and learned.<br/> +[<i>To Duke Senior</i>.] You to your former honour I bequeath;<br/> +Your patience and your virtue well deserves it.<br/> +[<i>To Orlando</i>.] You to a love that your true faith doth merit.<br/> +[<i>To Oliver</i>.] You to your land, and love, and great allies.<br/> +[<i>To Silvius</i>.] You to a long and well-deserved bed.<br/> +[<i>To Touchstone</i>.] And you to wrangling, for thy loving voyage<br/> +Is but for two months victualled.—So to your pleasures,<br/> +I am for other than for dancing measures. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Stay, Jaques, stay. +</p> + +<p class="drama"> +JAQUES.<br/> +To see no pastime, I. What you would have<br/> +I’ll stay to know at your abandoned cave. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="drama"> +DUKE SENIOR.<br/> +Proceed, proceed! We will begin these rites,<br/> +As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Dance. Exeunt all but <span class="charname">Rosalind</span>.</i>]</p> + +<h3><a name="sceneV_4.5"></a>EPILOGUE</h3> + +<p class="drama"> +ROSALIND.<br/> +It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue, but it is no more +unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine +needs no bush, ’tis true that a good play needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine +they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good +epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor +cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like +a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My way is to conjure you, and +I’ll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, +to like as much of this play as please you. And I charge you, O men, for the +love you bear to women—as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates +them—that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman, I +would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked +me, and breaths that I defied not. And I am sure as many as have good beards, +or good faces, or sweet breaths will for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, +bid me farewell. +</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + </div><!--end chapter--> <div class="chapter"> |