nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted. comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher.-| Wast ever in court, shepherd? Cor. No, truly. Touch. Then thou art damn'd. Cor. Nay, I hope, Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an illroasted egg, all on one side. Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. Touch. 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. it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. Ros. Out, fool! Touch. For a taste: Cor. 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 This mockable at the court. You told me, you salute you not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy. If a hart do lack a hind, He that sweetest rose will find, 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 graft 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 Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole- no, let the forest judge. some as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance, I say; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come. Cor. 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 perfumed with civet. Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-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. Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest dămn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw. I Cor. 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." Touch. 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 shelamb of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou should'st 'scape. Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. Ros. From the east to western Ind, Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Are but black to Rosalind. Enter Celia, reading a paper. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know That one body should be fill'd Sad Lucretia's modesty. To have the touches' dearest priz’d. 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. [Ere. Cor. and Touch. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses? Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; (5) Features. Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon knight. these trees? Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the well becomes the ground." 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. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. Cel. Trow you, who hath done this? Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour? 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 could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a 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. Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. Ros. Is he of God's making? 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, 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. Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid.2 Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he. 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 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. I Orl. And so had 1: but yet, for fashion's sake, thank you too for your society. Jaq. God 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. 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, 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. Ort. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. 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 when I found you. 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. Ros. But doth he know that I am in the 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, as to resolve (1) Out of all measure. (2) Speak seriously and honestly. (3) How was he dressed? Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, 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 cypher. 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 come forward. (4) The giant of Rabelais. (5) Motes. (6) An allusion to the moral sentences on old tapestry hangings. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: and under that habit play the knave with him.he taught me how to know a man in love; in which Do you hear, forester ? cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. Orl. What were his marks? Orl. Very well; What would you? Ros. A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unno clock in the forest. questionable spirit;3 which you have not a beard Ros. Then, there is no true lover in the forest; neglected; which you have no! :-but I pardon else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, you for that; for, sin ply, your having in beard is would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. a younger brother's revenue:-Then your hose Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your not that been as proper? sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every Ros. By no means, sir; Time travels in divers thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. paces with divers persous: I'll tell you who time But you are no such man; you are rather point. ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time devices in your accoutrements; as loving yourself, gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. than seeming the lover of any other. 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 sole anized: 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 wi hal. Orl. Who doth he wallop 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 divell you, pretty youth? Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is kindled. Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so remov'd' a dwelling. 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 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 punished and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, hat the whippers are in love too: Yet I profess curing it by counsel. Orl. Did you ever cure any so? 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 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 any thing, as boys and women are for Rs. I have been told so of many: but, indeed, the most part cattle of this colour: would now like an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, him, now loath him; then entertain him, then forwho was in his youth an in-land man; one that swear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; knew courtship too well, for there he fin love. that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, I have heard him read many lectures against it; to a living humour of madness; which was, to forand I thank God, I am not a woman, to be touch'd swear the full stream of the world, and to live in a with so many giddy offences as he hath generally nook merely monastic: And thus I cured him; 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. 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 vou, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and Woo me. Or. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell Orl. I pr'ythee, recount some of them. Ros. No; I will not cast away my physic, but me where it is. on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you: and, forest, that abuses our young plants with carving by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw-you live: Will you go? thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, Orl. With all my heart, good youth. [Exeunt. deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :-Come, that fancy-monger, I would give him some good sister, will you go? counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked; I pray you, tell me your remedy. (1) Sequestered. (2) Civilized. A spirit averse to conversation. (4) Estate. SCENE III.-Enter Touchstone, and Audrey; (5) Over-exact. up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you? Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features ? Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious' poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. 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 God'ild you' for your last company: I'am very glad to see you :-Even a toy in hand here, sir:-Nay; pray, be cover'd. Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited !2 worse than Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Jove in a thatch'd house! [Aside. Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the for-desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more nibbling. 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 swear'st 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 sauce to sugar. a [Aside. Jaq. A material foo!!3 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.+ Touch. 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 Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. [Aside. 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 [Aside. my wife. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. O brave Oliver, Leave me not behi' thee; Begone, I say, I will not to wedding wi' thee. [Exe. Jaq. Touch, and Audrey. Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep. Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour. Cel. An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever the only colour. Enler Sir Oliver Mar-text. a 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 ? Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Cel. 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. Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? 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 worn eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is not in. Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? (1) Lascivious. Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are (6) The art of fencing. (7) God reward you (8) Yoke. 2 E Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; both the confirmers of false reckonings: He at-Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes, tends here in the forest on the duke your father. Ros. 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 liurh'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:2 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. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Ros. That you insult, exult, and all at once, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, That can entame my spirits to your worship.- [Exeunt. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Say, that you love me not; but say not so Falls not the axe upon the humble neck, thee; Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes, Sit. O dear Phele, If ever (as that ever may be near,) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, But, till that time, 3 I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. Ros. He's fallen in love with her 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? Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, Plie. Phe. |