Imatges de pÓgina
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Duke F. How now,' daughter, and cousin?
are you crept hither to see the wrestling?
Ros. Ay, my liege; so please you give us
leave.

1

Duke. F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, three is such odds in the men: 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.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so: I'll not be by.

Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the prin[DUKE goes apart. cesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty.

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal-I lenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with bim the strength of my youth.

Cel. 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.

Ros. 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.

Ort. 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 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.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out her's. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young

man!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you.

I

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, Sir; but his will bath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but' come your

ways.

But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou should'st 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, FRED. Train, and Le
BEAU.

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do
this?

Orl. 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.

Ros. 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,
should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus bave ventur'd.
Cel. 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 promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
Ros. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out of suits with for[Giving him a chain from her neck.

tune; +

That could give more, but that her hand lacks

means.

Shall we go, coz?

Cel. Ay-fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orl. 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.
Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with
my fortunes :

I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call,

Sir ?

J

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. (CHARLES is borne
out.] What is thy name, young man?
Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of

Sir Rowland de Bois.

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,

More than your enemies.
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Ros. Have with you :-Fare you well.
[Exeunt ROSALIND and CBLIA.
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon
my tongue ?

cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

Re-enter LE BEAU.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.
Le Beau. Good Sir, I do in friendship coun-
sel you

High commendation, true applause, and love;
To leave this place: Albeit, you have descrv'd
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 me to speak

of.

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

Orl. I thank you, Sir; and, pray you, tell [CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! me this ; Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, That here was at the wrestling? Which of the two was daughter of the duke

can tell who should down.

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;

[CHARLES is thrown. Shout.

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:

Duke F. No more, no more.
Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,

well

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
Grounded upon no other argument,
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece

• Appellation.
4 Turned out of her service.
The object to dart at in martial exercises.
Disposition.

But that the people praise her for her vir-
tues,

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.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you
well!
[Exit LE BEAU.
Thus must I from the smoke unto the smother;
From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :-
But heavenly Rosalind!

[Exit.

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Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. Oh they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel. Oh! 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 iu good earnest : Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son.

Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly.

Cel. 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.

Ros. No 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well ?

Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do: Look, here comes the

duke.

Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a
traitor :

Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.
Duke F. Mistress despatch you with your safest
baste,
And get you from our court.
Ros. Me, uncle ?

Duke. F. You cousin ;

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

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 F. 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.

• Inveterately.

Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's
enough.

Ros. 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.
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your
sake,

Else had she with her father rang'd along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to bave 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 he went coupled, and inseparable.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and ber
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 bave pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my

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Ros. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ;
Pry'thee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the

duke

Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not.

Cel. No I hath not! Rosalind lacks then the
love

Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one;
Shall we be sunder'd? 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.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek my uncle.

Ros. Alas! what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Ros. I do beseech your grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with And with a kind of umber + smirch my face:

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean ature,

The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I

I

am.

Ros. 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-ax 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;

• Compassion.
↑ A yellow-coloured earth, from Umbria, in Italy.
Cutlass,
Sweggering.

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As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.
Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a

.man ?

Ros. I'll have no worse a rame than Jove's own page,

And therefore look you call me, Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that bath a reference to my state;

No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would be not be a comfort to our travel?

Cel. 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.

ACT H.

SCENE I.-The Forest of Arden.

Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, and other LORDS, in the dress of Foresters.

Duke S. 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

[Exeunt.

More free from peril than the envions court?
Here feel we but 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 every thing.
Ami. 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 S. Come, shall we go and kill us veni

son?

Have their round haunches gor'd.

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,-
Being native burghers of this desert city,-
Should, in their own confines, with forked

beads.

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 sequester'd 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

brook, Augmenting it with tears.

coat

Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase: aud thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest
verge of the swift

• Barbed arrows.

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Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;
'Tis right, quoth he; this 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 aud native dwelling place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this con-
templation?

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comUpon the sobbing deer. menting

Duke S. Show me the place;

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight.

[Exeunt. SCENE VII.-A Room in the Palace. Enter Duke FREDERICK, LORDS, and Alten

dants.

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. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, They found the bed untreasur'd of their mis

tress.

2 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
The parts and graces of the wrestler
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.

Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gal-
lant 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.
Orl. Who's there?

Adam. What! my young master?-O my gen.
tle master,

1

of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
O my sweet master, O you memory
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love
you?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and va.
liant?

Why would you be so foud to overcome
The bony prizer of the humorous duke?

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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

means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that,
He wilt 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.
Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have
me go?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not
here.

Orl. 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 sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
Whea service should in my old limbs
lame,

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear wis he 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 yon, who comes here; a young man, and an oid, in solemu talk.

pears

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,

SCENE IV. The forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND in Boy's clothes; CELTA dressed like a Shepherdess, and Totch

STONE.

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 four-

Mansion, residence.

Blood turned from its natural course.

Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. 1. 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 petscoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further.

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.

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 ?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. Oh! thou didst then ne'er love so bearly:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

lie

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 1 never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The meaus 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.

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee ap- was in love, I broke my sword upon a state,

and bid him take that for coming anight • be Jane Smile and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd bands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from

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.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.

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Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy bearer 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 SILVICS.
Ros. Alas! poor shepherd! searching of thy
wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I miue: I remember, when I

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of muse own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yead'

man,

If he for gold will give us any food;
I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla; you, clown!

• A piece of money stamped with a cross.
In the night.

The instrument with which washers beat clothes

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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.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and
pasture?

Cor. That young swain that you saw here but
erewhile,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. 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.
Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like
this place,

And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. 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.-The same.

Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.
SONG.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come
Here shall he see

108.

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

I

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please you.

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, niore; 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 :-he hath been all this day to look you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too dispútable for my company: 1 think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

• Cares.

Ragged and rugged had formerly the same mean

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SCENE VI.-The same.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: oh! 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'll here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave hitherto 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.

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SCENE VII.-The same.

A table set out.-Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS,
LORDS, and others.
Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a
beast;

For I can no where find him like a man.

1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone
hence;
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
Duke S. If he compact of jars, † grow mu
sical,

We shall have shortly discord in the spheres :~
Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.

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