SCENE II.-A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw them? It cannot be some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Your daughter and her cousin much commend Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; If he be absent, bring his brother to me, O, my sweet master, O you memory7 Of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here? No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son- 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; Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce I rather will subject me to the malice Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears 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 in Boy's clothes, CELIA drest like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. 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. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further. Touch. 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. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. 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. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old, in solemn talk. Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! 9 Blood turned from its natural course. A piece of money stamped with a cross, Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Or if thou hast not broke from company, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own. Touch. And I mine: 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. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Fair sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, But I am shepherd to another man, And little recks to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality: Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, That you But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged 3; I know, I cannot please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza: Call you them stanzas? Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing? Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment, is like the 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. Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree: hath been all this day to look you. -he Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too dispútable 4 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. 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. Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little: If this uncouth forest yield any thing 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 any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt. 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What! you look merrily. Jaq. A fool, a fool!- I met a fool i' the forest, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, After a voyage,- he hath strange places cramm'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. If they will patiently receive my medicine. Duke S. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou would'st do. Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine. Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, That says, his bravery 7 is not on my cost, Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress; Or else a rude despiser of good manners, The fool was anciently dressed in a party.coloured coat. 7 Finery. Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny | Seeking the bubble reputation point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. 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, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; 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, In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. Duke S. 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 engender'd: And therefore sit you down in gentleness, And take upon command what help we have, That to your wanting may be minister'd. Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort! [Exit. Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre 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 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, Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercy, Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living, Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! out of doors; Well, push him Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. 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' full life doth sway. name, that my 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 3 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. 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? 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 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 1 Seizure 3 Inexpressible. 2 Expeditiously. I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Let no face be kept in mind, 5 Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. dinners and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: Ros. Out, fool! If a hart do lack a hind, So, be sure, will Rosalind. They that reap, must sheaf and bind; Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. This 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 e're 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! For it is unpeopled? No; That shall civil 6 sayings show. Runs his erring pilgrimage ; 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know Delineated. 5 Complexion, beauty. Grave, solemn. |