Imatges de pÓgina

That your poor friends must woo your com-
pany ?

Or what is he of basest function,
That says, his bravery is not on my cost,
(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits

What! you look merrily.

Jaq. A fool, a fool!-I met a fool i'the His folly to the mettle of my speech 1
There then; How, what then? Let me see

A motley fool;-a miserable world!-
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
Good-morrow fool, quoth 1: No, Sir, quoth he,
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me

And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world


'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe.
And then, from hour to hour we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermision,

An hour by his dial.-O noble fool!

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a
courtier ;

And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in bis

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage,-he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms :-Oh! that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq. It is my only suit;

Provided that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And, why, Sir, must

they so?

The why is plain as way to parish church:
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and


Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine
Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou

would'st do.

Jaq. What for a counter, would I do, but
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chid-
ing sin:

For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the very very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, The city-wo an bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neigh.


The fool was anciently dressed in a party-co4 coat.

My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right
Then he hath wrong'd bimself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any man.-But who comes here!

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

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty!
Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred,+
And know some nurture: But forbear, I say;
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason,
I must die.

Duke S. What would you have? Your gen
tleness 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, 1
pray yon:

I thought that all things bad been savage bere:
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are,
That in this desert inaccessible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time-
If ever you have look'd on better days;
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
If ever sat at any good man's feast;
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke S. True is it that we have seen better


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,
That to your wanting may be minister'd.
And take upon command what help we have,

Orl. Then, but forbear your food a litle
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor inan,
Who after me hath many a weary step

Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two great evils, age and huu-
I will not touch a bit.
Duke S. Go find bim out,


And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orl. I thank ye: and be bless'd for year
good confort!
Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un-

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,

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Mewling and puking in the nurse's arins;
And then, the whining school-boy, with his

Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then,

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' eye-brow: Then, a sol-
dier ;


But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an absent argument

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like
Jealous in honour, suaden* and quick


Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it;
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory,

Thy lands, and all things that thon dost call

Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands;
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth,
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. Oh! that your highness knew my heart
I never lov'd my brother in my life. [in this!
Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him
out of doors:

And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent upon his house and lands:
Do this expediently, and turn him going.

In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern + instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
Saus teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every


Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.

Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable burden, 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.
Duke S. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble


As yet, to question you about your fortunes :-
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.
AMIENS sings.


Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere

Then heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.


Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

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SCENE I-A Room in the Palace.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, Sir, that
cannot be :


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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.

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wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Ja 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 bandling 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.

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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. I'll rhyme you so, eight years ther; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping excepted it is the right butter-woman's to market.

Ros. Out, fool!

Touch. For a taste :——

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on 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 ear. liest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten e'er you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar.

togehours rank

Touch. That's another simple sin in yon; to bring the ewes and the rains 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.

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishion

Co. Here comes young master Ganymede, ers withal, and never cried, Hate patience, my new mistress' brother.

good people!

Cel. How now! back friends ;-Shepherd, go off a little :-go with him, sirrab.

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an bonourable 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 24 Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man ?

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin’d,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap, must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.

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.
• Unexperienced.

+ Delineated. t Complexion.

Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.

Enter CELIA, reading a paper.

Ros. Peace!

Here comes my sister reading; stand aside.

Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled! No ;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,

That shall civil* sayings show,
Some, how brief the life of man

Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span

Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vous

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite

Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd

That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's check, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prizd. Heaven would that she these ga ts

should have,

And I to live and die her slave.

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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 derful 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 might'st pour this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrowmouth'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?

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with won-writing love-songs on their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Cel. Nay, be 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 tripped up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an


Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid. †

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 Eaw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? what makes he here? Did be ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when thou shalt see him again 1 Answer me in one word.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this 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 the propositions of a lover-but take a taste of any 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.

Ce!. Give me audience, good madam.
Ros. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a weunded knight.

Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.

Cel. Cry, bolla to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it carvets very unseasonably. He was furnished like a bunter.

Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: theu bring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as

we can.

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.

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 cate--Do you hear, forester ? chism.

Ort. And so had I; but yet, for fashion, sake I thank you too for your society.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl. Yes, just.

Out of all measure.

1 Speak seriously and honestly. flow was he dressed?
The giant of Rabelais.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christened.

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 conned them out of rings?

Ori. 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 agaiust our mistress the world, and 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.

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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



fel. You bring me out :-Soft! comes he not 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.

Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him.

Orl. Very well; what would you?
Ros. I pray you, what is't a clock ?

Orl. You should ask me, what time o'day; there's 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. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. Marry, be trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day 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 ?

Orl. Who stays it still withal?

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they

• An allusion to the moral sentences of old tapestry hangings.

time would 1, 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 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 spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad bamour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was, to

Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed" a dwelling. Ros. I have been told so of many: but, in-forswear the full stream of the world, and deed, an old religious uncle of mine taught me to live in a nook merely monastic: And thes I to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; cured him; and this way will I take upon me one that knew courtship too well, for there be to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's fell in love. I have heard him read many lec-heart, that there shall not be one spet of love tures against it; and I thank God, I am not ain't.. woman, to be touched with so many giddy of fences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.

sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves.

Ort. Where dwell yon, pretty youth? Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.

Orl. Are you native of this place ? Ros. As the corey, that you see dwell where she is kindled.

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 halfpence 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 physic, 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, Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; Jaques of forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good 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.

Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner.

Orl. What were his marks?

Ros. A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, nnd 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 ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.

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, that 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

• Sequestered

A spirit averse to conversation.

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 woo me.

Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me where it is.

Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you: and by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live: Will you go!

Orl. With all my heart, good youth.

Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :— Come, sister, will you go? [Exeunt.

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a distance, observing them.

Touch. Come, apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats, Audrey: And bow, Andrey? am I the man yet! Doth my simple feature content you?

Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features?

Touch. I am am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jove in a thatch'd house! [Aside. Touch. When a man's verses cannot be soderstood, 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 bad maste thee poetical.

Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing t

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 a poet, i might have some hope thou didst feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest! Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard fyour'd for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

Jaq. A material fool! §


Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore ! pray the gods make me honest!

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an enclean 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 Martext, 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.

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