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. Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. Cel. Didst 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. Nay, no mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid.8 Cel. I' faith, coz, 'tis he. 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? 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. Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua'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. and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, Cel. It is as easy to count atomies?, as to resolve but take a taste of the propositions of a lover: 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 called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Cel. Give me audience, good madam. Ros. Proceed. 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 hunter. a Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bring'st me out of tune. Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when 1 Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. neck Change you colour? Ros. I pr'ythee, who? 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 I may drink thy tidings. What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. Ros. Why, let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. 7 Features 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. Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd. Jaq. What stature is she of? Orl. Just as high as my heart. 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 3 from whence you have studied your ques tions. 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. Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cipher. Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good signior love. 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 in-land 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 CELIA and ROSALIND name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancymonger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy. - [Exit JAQUES. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester? Orl. Very well; what would you? 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 Orl. You should ask me what time o'day; there's cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. no clock in the forest. 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. What were his marks? Ros. 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 unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you Orl. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal? are no such man; you are rather point-device 6 in Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seembetween the contract of her marriage, and the daying the lover of any other. it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, 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? Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself 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? 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 to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of 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 punished and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippers are in love too: Yet I profess curing Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the it by counsel. skirts of the forest. Orl. Are you a native of this place? Orl. Did you ever cure any so? Ros. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to Ros. As the rabbit, that you see dwell where she imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him is kindled. 3 An allusion to the moral sentences issuing from the mouths of figures on old tapestry hangings. every day to woo me: At which time would I, being 4 A spirit averse to conversation. Estate. but a moonish7 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; would now like him, now loath him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then laugh 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 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. Orl. 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 Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES at a distance, observing them. Touch. 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? 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. O knowledge ill-inhabited! 8 worse than Jove in a thatch'd house! [Aside. 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 poetical. 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, I might have some hope thou didst feign. Aud. Would you not have me honest? Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd: for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar. Jaq. A material fool! 9 [Aside. 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. I Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be 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. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. 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 hornbeasts. 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 defence3 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, Nay; pray be cover'd, sir : Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desire towards wedlock. Jaq. 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 pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touch. 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. [Aside. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey; Farewell, good master Oliver! SCENE IV. - Before a Cottage. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep. Ros. But have I not cause to weep? Cel. As good cause as one would desire; there fore weep. Ros. Why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye: Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! consider, that tears do not become a man. 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 but 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 no force in eyes That can do hurt. Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. Cel. 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 cover'd goblet, or a worm eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is not in. Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. Cel. Was is not is: besides the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question 5 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? Cel. 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 SILVIUS and PHEBE. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: Come not thou near me; and, when that time comes, Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who That you insult, exult, and all at once, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, Phe. I would not be thy executioner ; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 3 Conversation. Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house, Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be; If you do sorrow at my grief in love, Phe. Thou hast my love: Is not that neighbourly? That I shall think it a most plenteous crop He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall : Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. I have more cause to hate him than to love him: He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; [Exeunt. verse. [Exit. Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is of your own country; be out of love with your nafantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor tivity, or I will scarce think you have swam in a the soldier's, which is ambitious; gondola. nor the lawyer's, Why, how now, Orlando! where have An you which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice 7; you been all this while? You a lover?nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melan- serve me such another trick, never come in my choly of mine own, compounded of many simples, sight more. extracted from many objects: and, indeed, the sundry comtemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness. Ros. 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, 7 Trifling. of Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour my promise. will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute Cupid hath clapp'd him o'the shoulder, but I war rant him heart. whole. |