Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, Or else a rude despiser of good manners, Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show [you, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. [ger, Go find him out, you return. And we will nothing waste till Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort! [Exit. Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unThis wide and universal theatre [happy: Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Jaq. 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: And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. Du. S.Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude: Because thou art not seen, Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As benefits forgot: As friend remember'd2 not, Duke S. 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: 2 Remembering. 1 Trite. But were I not the better part made mercy, 0. O, that your highness knew my heart in SCENE II.-THE FOREST. Enter Orlando, with a paper. [Exeunt. 0. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: [survey And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thyhuntress' 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. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone? Touch. 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. 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? As it Cor. 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 1 Seizure. 2 Expeditiously. 3 Inexpress!' learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? Cor. No, 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.-Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Let no face be kept in mind, Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinners and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. Ros. Out, fool! Touch. For a taste:-- If a hart do lack a hind, They that reap must sheaf and bind; Such a nut is Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do you infect yourself with them? Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree. Touch. Truly the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter Celia, reading a paper. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. For it is unpeopled? No; 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know 1 Delineated. Therefore, heaven nature charg'd Sad Lucretia's modesty. By heavenly synod was devis'd; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches1 dearest priz❜d. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave. Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good people! Cel. How now! back friends;-Shepherd, go off a little :-Go with him, sirrah. I may drink thy tidings.-What manner of man? Ros. Nay, no mocking; speak sad brow,1 and Ros. Orlando? Cel. Orlando. Ros. 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?3 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. C. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an hon- age's size: To say, ay, and no, to these particuourable retreat; though not with bag and bag-lars, is more than to answer in a catechism. gage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt Corin and Touchstone. Cel. Did'st thou hear these verses? Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carved upon these trees? Ros. 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 be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cel. Trow you, who hath done this? Ros. Is it a man? Ros. 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? Cel. It is as easy to count atomies,5 as to resolve the propositions of a lover:-but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with a good observance, I found him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn. Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Cel. Give me audience, good madam. Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along like a wounded knight. Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about thou bring'st me out of tune. his neck: Change you colour? Ros. I pr'ytbee, who? Cel. Olord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet: but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter. Ros. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it possible? Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping! Ros. 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-off discovery. I pr'ythee, 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-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee take the cork out of thy mouth, that 1 Features. Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Enter Orlando and Jaques. Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. [Celia and Rosalind retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. Jaq. Peace be with you; let's meet as little as we can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name? Jaq. I do not like her name. Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself when she was christen'd. Jaq. What stature is she of? Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings? Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was 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. Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. Orl. "Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you. Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him. Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure. Ori Which I take to be either a fool, or a cipher. Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good signior love. Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy. [Exit Jaques.-Celia and Rosalind Orl. Very well; what would you? Ros. 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. Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had not that been as proper? Ros. 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. Orl. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. 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,2 time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years. Orl. Who ambles time withal? Ros. 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. Orl. Who doth he gallop withal? too soon there. Orl. Who stays it still withal? Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth? Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest. Orl. Are you a native of this place? Ros. As the rabbit, that you see dwell where she is kindled. Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. Ros. 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 fortune, I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils, that he laid to the charge of women? Ros. There were none principal; they were all like one another, as half-pence are: every one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it. Orl. I pr'ythee recount some of them. Ros. No; I will not cast away my physick, 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 fancymonger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian1 of love upon him. Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked; I pray you, tell me your remedy. Ros. 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. Orl. What were his marks? Ros. A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit;2 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 unbuttoned, 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. Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Ros. 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 1 Moral sentences in the mouths of figures on old to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you tapestry. 1 Intermittent fever. 8 Possessions. Seven-night a week. 2 Averse to conversati he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. Ros. 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. Orl. Did you ever cure any so? Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing? Touch. 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. Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? Touch. I do, truly: for thou swearest to me, thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, 1 might have some hope thou didst feign. 139 Aud. Would you not have me honest? Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hardfavour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar. Jaq. [Aside.] A material fool! Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest! Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish. Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.1 Ros. 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 moonish1 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 any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; Touch. Well, praise be the gods for thy foulwould now like him, now loath him; then enter-ness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be tain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then laugh at him, that I drave my suitor from ais 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 monastick: 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. Ort. I would not be cured, youth. Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me. Orl. Now by the faith of my love, I will; tell ine where it is. Ros. 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? Orl. With all my heart, good youth. SCENE III.--THE SAME. Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature coutent you? Aud. Your features! what features? Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. Jaq. [Aside.] O knowledge ill-inhabited2! worse than Jove in a thatch'd house! Touch. 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 pootical. as it may be, I will marry thee: and to that end, I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. Jaq. [Aside.] I would fain see this meeting. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! Touch. 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.2 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 a horn more precious than to want. Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text. Here comes Sir Oliver:-Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met: Will you despatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her, Touch. Good even, good master What ye call't: How do you, sir? You are very well met: I am very glad to see you:--Even a toy in hand here, sir:-Nay; pray be cover'd. Jaq. Will you be married, motley? |