Your praise is corne too swiftly home before you. Know you not, inaster, to some kind of men Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. Oh! what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Come not within these doors; within this roof he 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, en lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown; lie SCENE IV. The forest of Arden. Enter ROSALIND in Boy's clothes; CELTA dressed like a Shepherdess, and Touch STONE. 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 doablet and hose ought to show itself courageons 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 1; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look yos, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemu talk. guess; Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 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, wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own. Orl. O good old man; how well in thee ap- was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, pears The constant service of the antique world, That cannot so much as a blossom yield, Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow and bid him take that for coming anight Jane Smile and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom 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. 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 is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond” Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Touch. Your betters, Sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Good even to you, friend. Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all. Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and teed: Here's a young maid with travel much op. press'd, And faints for succour. Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her, And wish, for her sake, more than for mine own, And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze; And little recks to find the way to heaven Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, 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: SCENE V.-The same. [Exeunt. Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others. SONG. Ami. Under the greenwood tree, No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Anii. 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; I know, I caunot 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. Juq. 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 be 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 disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give beaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. SONG. Who doth ambition shun, [All together bere. And loves to live i'the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither ; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I If it do come to pass, Gross fools as he, An if he will come to Ami. Ami. What's that ducdame? Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools in. to a circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is prepar'd. [Exeunt severally. SCENE VI.-The same Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: oh! I die for food! Here lie 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 to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a inocker 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. • Disputatious. + A word coined for the nonce. Made up of discords. That your poor friends must woo your company? What! you look merrily. Jaq. A fool, a fool!—I met a fool forest, Or what is he of basest function, That says, his bravery is not on my cost, i'the His folly to the mettle of my speech } (Thinking that I mean him,) but thereis san There then; How, what then? Let me e wherein A motley fool;-a miserable world!- And then he drew a dial from his poke, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; An hour by his dial.-O noble fool! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a And says, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage,-he bath strange places cramm'd In mangled forms :-Oh! that I were a fool! Duke S. Thou shalt bave one. Jaq. It is my only suit; Provided that you weed your better judgmeuts To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: they so? The why is plain as way to parish church: Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, Jaq. What for a counter, would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chid- For thou thyself hast been a libertine, Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, bour? • The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. My tongue bath wrong'd him: if it de bim right Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose fe Unclaim'd of any man.-but who comes in! Enter ORLANDO, with his sword dress Or else a rude despiser of good manners, point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason. Duke S. What would you have? Your gre More than your force move us to gentiereSK. Orl. Speak you so gently pray yon: Pardon me, 1 I thought that all things bad been savage here: Under the shade of melancholy boughs, days; And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church . Orl. Then, but forbear your food a lice while, And give it food. There is an old poor man, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic’4‚— Who after me hath many a weary step Oppress'd with two great evils, age and ben ger, I will not touch a bit. Duke S. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. good confort! Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alotic w happy: This wide and universal theatre Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: 海 Scene I. Mewling and puking in the nurse's arins; And shining morning face, creeping like snail 5. Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad reMade to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a sol dier ; Full of strauge oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden⚫ quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation and quick in Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, justice; the In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable And let him feed. Orl. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need; I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. you As yet, to question you about your fortunes:- AMIENS sings. ACT III. SCENE 1.-A Room in the Palace. Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, Sir, that I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it; Thy lands, and all things that thon dost call Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands; Oli. Oh! that your highness knew my heart And let my officers of such a nature upon his house and lands: SCENE 11.-The Forest. [Exeunt. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, O Rosalind these trees shall be my hooks, Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. Touch. Truly shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in 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 That good of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: pasture makes fat sheep and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the sun: That be, 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. Touch. Then thou art damned. Touch. Truly, thou art damned; 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 must be good manners, then thy manners • Seize by legal process. ↑ Expeditiously. Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them an a tree. wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. 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 mockable at the court. You told me, you salute 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. Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome 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 wormsmeat, in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indeed!-Learn of the wise, and prepend: 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 damu'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.* 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's another simple sin in yon; 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 she-lamb 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 shouldst 'scape. Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress' brother. Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper. Ros. From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures, fairest lin❜d, † Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind, But the fair of Rosalind. Touch. For a taste :- If a hart do lack a hind, They that reap, must sheaf and bind; He that sweetest rose will find, Must find love's prick, and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do you infect yourself with them. • Inexperienced. + Delineated. t Complexion. I 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'er you be half ripe, and that's the right vIITUN of the mediar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter CELIA, reading a paper. Here comes my sister reading; stand aside. Cel. Why should this desert silent be? 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know Sad Lucretia's modesty. By heavenly synod was deris'd; 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 cried, Hate patience, good people! Cel. How now! back friends ;-Shepherd, go off a little :-go with him, sirrab. 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 hanged 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 berhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was 20 Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cel. Trow yon, who hath done this? Cel. And a chain that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour ? Ros. I pr'ythee, who? Cel. O lord, lord! It is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter. |