Orla. I am he, that is fo love-fhak'd; I pray you, tell me your remedy. Rof. There is none of my Uncle's marks upon you, he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rufhes, I am fure, you are not prifoner. Orla. What were his marks? Rof. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an unquestionable fpirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for fim`ply your Having in beard is a younger Brother's revenue; then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonftrating a careless defolation. But you are no fuch man, you are rather point-de-vice in your accoutrements, as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other. Orla. Fair youth, I would I could make thee be lieve I love. Rof. Me believe it? you may as foon make her, that you love, believe it; which, I warrant, fhe is apter to do, than to confefs fhe does; that is one of the points, in the which women ftill give the lye to their confciences. But, in good footh, are you he that hangs the Verses on the trees, wherein Rofalind is fo admired? Orla. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rofalind, I am That he, that unfortunate he. Rof. But are you fo much in love, as your rhimes fpeak? Orla. Neither rhime nor reafon can exprefs how much. 8 Rof. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, an unquestionable Spirit.] That is, a spirit not inquifitive, a mind indifferent to common objects, and negligent of common occurrences. Here Shake Speare has ufed a paffive for an active mode of speech: fo in a former fcene, The Duke is too dif putable for me, that is, too dif putatious. deferves deferves as well a dark house and a whip, as mad men do: and the reason why they are not fo punished and cured, is, that the lunacy is fo ordinary, that the whippers are in love too: yet I profess curing it by counsel. He was to Orla. Did you ever cure any fo? Rof. Yes, one, and in this manner. imagine me his love, his mistress: and I fet him every day to wooe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apifh, fhallow, inconftant, full of tears, full of fmiles; for every passion something, and for no paffion 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 forfwear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my fuitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madnefs; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monaftick; and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clear as a found fheep's heart, that there fhall not be one spot of love in't. Orla. I would not be cur'd, youth. Rof. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rofalind, and come every day to my cote, and wooe me. Orla. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. 9 Rof. Go with me to it, and I will fhew it you; and, to a living bumour of madness;] If this be the true reading, we must by living underftand lafting, or permanent, but I cannot forbear to think that fome antithefis was intended, which is now loft; perhaps the paffage ftood thus, I drove my fuitor from a dying humour of love to a living humour of mad nefs. Or rather thus, from a mad bumour of love to a loving humour, of madness, that is, from a madnefs that was love, to a love that was madness. That seems fomewhat harsh and strained, but such modes of fpeech are not unusual in our poet: and this harshness was probably the cause of the corruption. by the way, you shall tell me where in the Forest live. Will you go? Orla. With all my heart, good youth. you Rof. Nay, nay, you muft call me Rofalind-Come, fifter, will you go? [Exeunt. Enter Clown, Audrey, and Jaques watching them. Clo. Come apace, good Audrey, I will fetch up your goats, Audrey; and now, Audrey, am I the man yet? doth my fimple feature content you? Aud. Your features, Lord warrant us! what features ? Clo. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet honeft Ovid was among the Goths. Faq. [afide] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house! Clo. When a man's verfes cannot be understood nor a man's good Wit feconded with the forward child, Understanding; it ftrikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room'; truly, I would the Gods had made thee poetical. it ftrikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room;] Nothing was ever wrote in higher humour than this fimile. A great reckoning, in a little room, implies that the entertainment was mean, and the bill extravagant. The poet here alluded to the French proverbial phrafe of the quarter of hour of Rabelais: who faid, there was only one quarter of an hour in human life paffes ill, and that was between the calling for the reckoning and paying it. Yet the Aud. delicacy of our Oxford Editor would correct this into, It frikes a man more dead than a great reeking in a little room. This is amending with a vengeance. When men are joking together in a merry humour, all are difpofed to laugh. One of the company fays a good thing; the jeft is not taken; all are filent, and he who faid it, quite confounded. This is compared to a tavern jollity interrupted by the coming in of a great reckoning. Had not Shakespeare reafon now Aud. I do not know what poetical is; is it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? Clo. No, truly; for the trueft poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they fwear in poetry *, may be faid, as lovers, they do feign. Aud. Do you wish then, that the Gods had made me poetical? Clo. I do, truly; for thou fwear'ft to me, thou art honeft now if thou wert a poet, I might have fome hope thou didst feign. Aud. Would you not have me honest ? Clo. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty, is, to have honey a fawce to fugar. Jaq. [afide.] A material fool! Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the Gods makes me honeft! Clo. Truly, and to caft away honefty upon a foul flut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish. Aud. I am not a flut, though I thank the Gods I am foult. Clo. Well, praifed be the Gods for thy foulnefs! fluttishness 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 promis'd to meet me in this place of the foreft, and to couple us. Jaq. [afide.] I would fain fee this meeting. in this cafe to apply his fimile, to his own cafe, against his critical editor? who, 'tis plain, taking the phrafe to strike dead in a literal fenfe, concluded, from his knowledge in philofophy, that it could not be fo effectually done by a reckoning as by a reeking. WARBURTON. poetry, &c] This fentence feems perplexed and inconfequent; perhaps it were better read thus, What they wear as lovers they may be faid to feign as poets. 2 A material fool!] A fool with matter in him; a fool ftocked with notions. + By foul is meant cay or • — and what they fwear in frowning. VOL. II. F HANMER.. Aud. Aud. Well, the Gods give us joy! Clo. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, ftagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no affembly but horn-beasts. But what tho'? courage. As horns are odious, they are neceffary. It is faid, 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 fo-poor men alone?—no, no, the nobleft deer hath them as huge as the rafcal: is the fingle man therefore bleffed? no. As a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, fo is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no fskill, 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 dispatch us here under this tree, or fhall we go with you to your Chapel? Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? Sir Oli. Truly, fhe must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. Faq. [difcovering himself] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her. Clo. Good even, good mafter what ye call: how do you, Sir? you are very well met: God'ild you for your last company! I am very glad to fee you-even a toy in hand here, Sir-nay; pray be covered. Faq. Will you be married, Motley? Col. As the ox hath his bow, Sir, the horse his 3—what the'?] What then. + Sir Oliver.] He that has taken his fir degree at the Univerfity, is in the academical style called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore termed Sir. This was not always a word of contempt; the graduates affumed it in their own writings; fo Trevifa the hiftorian writes himfelf Syr John de Trevisa. curb, |