AS YOU LIKE IT. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. DR. GREY and Mr. Upton asserted that this Play was certainly borrowed from the Coke's Tale of Gamelyn, printed in Urry's Chaucer, but it is hardly likely that Shakspeare saw that in manuscript, and there is a more obvious source from whence he derived his plot, viz. the pastoral romance of Rosalynde, or Euphues' Golden Legacy,' by Thomas Lodge, first printed in 1590. From this he has sketched his principal characters, and constructed his plot; but those admirable beings, the melancholy Jaques, the witty Touchstone, and his Audrey, are of the poet's own creation. Lodge's novel is one of those tiresome (I had almost said unnatural) pastoral romances, of which the Euphues of Lyly and the Arcadia of Sidney were also popular examples: it has, however, the redeeming merit of some very beautiful verses interspersed, and the circumstance of its having led to the formation of this exquisite pastoral drama, is enough to make us withhold our assent to Steevens's splenetic censure of it as 'worthless.' "Touched by the magic wand of the enchanter, the dull and endless prosing of the novelist is transformed into an interesting and lively drama. The forest of Arden converted into a real Arcadia of the golden age. * The following beautiful Stanzas are part of what is called 'Rosalynd's Madrigal,' and are not unworthy of a place even in a page devoted to Shakspeare: Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Within mine eyes he makes his nest, Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string He lends me every lovely thing; The highly sketched figures pass along in the most di versified succession: we see always the shady darkgreen landscape in the back ground, and breathe in imagination the fresh air of the forest. The hours are here measured by no clocks, no regulated recurrence of duty or toil; they flow on unnumbered in voluntary occupation or fanciful idleness.--One throws himself down under the shade of melancholy boughs,' and indulges in reflection on the changes of fortune, the falsehood of the world, and the self-created torments of social life: others make the woods resound with social and festive songs, to the accompaniment of their horns. Selfishness, envy and ambition, have been left in the city behind them; of all the human passions, love aloue has found an entrance into this silvan scene, where it dictates the same language to the simple shepherd, and the chivalrous youth, who hangs his love duty to a tree? And this their life, exempt from public haunts, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. How exquisitely is the character of Rosalind conceiv ed, what liveliness and sportive gaiety, combined with the most natural and affectionate tenderness; the reader is as much in love with her as Orlando, and wouders not at Phebe's sudden passion for her when disguised as Ganymede; or Celia's constant friendship. Touchstone is indeed a rare fellow he uses his folly as a stalkinghorse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit: his courtship of Audrey, his lecture to Corin, his defence of cuckolds, and his burlesque upon 'duello' of the age, are all most exquisite fooling. It has been remarked, that there are few of Shakspeare's plays which contain so many passages that are quoted and remembered, and phrases that have become in a manner proverbial. To enumerate them would be to mention every scene in the play. And I must no longer detain the reader from this most delightful of Shakspeare's comedies. the Malone places the composition of this play in 1599. There is no edition known previous to that in the folio of 1623. But it appears among the miscellaneous entries of prohibited pieces in the Stationers' books, without any certain date. † Schlegel. 237 Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. AS YOU LIKE IT. His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired : but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth: for the which his animals on his dung-lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have hills are as much bound to him as I. nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the someBesides this old master! he would not have spoke such a word. thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM. to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thouOli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in sand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis! him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit Enter DENNIS. of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Enter OLIVer. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? 1 Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.2 Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you where you are, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. in Orl. Ay, better than he3 I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me : The courtesy of nations allows you my better, that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Ob. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain. Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot lains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had cut thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on pulled thyself. Den. Calls your worship? Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you. Oli. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS.]-"Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHARles. Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. Good monsieur Charles!-what's the new news at the new court! Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that is, the old duke is banished by his loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exyounger brother the new duke; and three or four ile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughter," be banished with her father. Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her,-being ever from their cradles bred together,-that she would have followed her the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, , and a many merry men with him; and they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet19 the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. vil-derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath I am given, sir, secretly to una disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and he that escapes me without some broken limb, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loth to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore out of Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay My father charged you in his will to give me good him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace education: you have trained me like a peasant, ob- well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his scuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, thank thee for thy love to me, such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade me the poor allottery my father left me by testa-him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, ment: with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. -it is the stubbornest young fellow of France: full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; worthless fellow; and by Orlando, for a man of base 6 He gives them good leave.' As often as this phrase occurs, it means a ready assent. 1 i. e. what do you here? bour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. See note in Love's La-extraction. Be naught awhile. this phrase, which, he says, 'is only a north-country Warburton justly explained proverbial curse equivalent to a mischief on you.' 3 The first folio reads him, the second he more cor rectly. 4 Warburton proposed reading near his revenue,' which he explains, though you are no nearer in blood, yet it must be owned that you are nearer in estate.' 5 Villain is used in a double sense: by Oliver for al 7 i. e. the banished duke's daughter. sufficiently apparent by the words her cousin, yet it has 8 i. e. the usurping duke's daughter; this may be been thought necessary to point out the ambiguity. French Flanders, lying near the river Meuse, and be9 Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent in tween Charlemont and Rocroy. 10 Fleet, i. e. to flitte, to make to pass or flow Enter TOUCHSTONE. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger:| and thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creaany slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?himself on thee, he will practice against thee by Though nature hath given us wit to flout at forpoison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, tune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by argument? some indirect means or other: for, I assure thee,! and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. merry. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me, how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection: by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports let me see; What think you of falling in love? Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again. Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. 1 i. e. frolicksome fellow. 2 i. e. of all ranks. 3 But that I kindle the boy thither.' He means, 'that i excite the boy to it.' 4 The old copy reads perceiveth. The folio, 1632, reads perceiving. Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit. Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work nei. ther, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the messenger? Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught; now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes, or that mustard. Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st! Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days. Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Cel. Sport? Of what colour? Le Beau. What colour, madam? how shall I answer you? Ros. As wit and fortune will. Touch. Or as the destinies decree. Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel." Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. 6 you'll be whipp'd for turation. This was the discipline usually inflicted upon fools. 7 Laid on with a trowel. This is a proverbial phrase 5 This reply to the Clown, in the old copies, is given not yet quite disused. It is, says Mason, to do any thing to Rosalind. Frederick was however the name of Celia's strongly, and without delicacy. If a man flatters gross father, and it is therefore most probable the reply shouldly, it is a common expression to say, that he lays ii an be hers. with a trowel. 80:19, Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. I deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three 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. Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence ;; Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents,1. Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Rǝs. Alas! poor Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you! Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath 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 per. suaded him from a first. Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [CHA. and ORL. wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [CHARLES is thrown. Shout. Duke F. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, OR- well breathed. Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be Le Beau. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks succesfully. Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling? tell Ros. Ay, my liege: so please you give us leave. Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can you, there 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. [Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ? Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some The world esteem'd thy father honourable, I [Exeunt DUKE FRED. Train, and LE BEAU. calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick. Ros. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal-Had I before known this young man his son, enger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 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 misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to Ere he should thus have ventur'd. Cel. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him, and encourage him: If Your mistress shall be happy. Gentleman, Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune;7 means. Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman. lian gratiato, i. e. graced, favoured, countenanced; as well as for graceful, comely, well favoured, in which sense Shakspeare uses it in other places. 5 The words than to be descended from any other house, however high,' must be understood. 6 Calling here means appellation, a very unusual if not unprecedented use of the word. 7 Out of suits appears here to signify out of favour, discarded by fortune. To suit with anciently signified to agree with. Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you:-Fare you well. I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter: I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. [Exit. Enter Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have mercy!-Not a word? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. Cel. But is all this for your father? Ros. No, some of it for my child's father.4 how full of briars is this working-day world! O Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try: if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. 1 His better parts, i. e. his spirits or senses. A quintain was a figure set up for tilters to run at in mock resemblance of a tournament. 2 i. e. demeanour, temper, disposition. Antonio in the Merchant of Venice is called by his friend the best condition'd man. Humourous is capricious. Cel. O, 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 in 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 lov'd 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. 3 The old copy reads taller. which is evidently wrong. Pope altered it to shorter. The present reading is MaJone's. 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. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. Ros. Duke F Me, uncle? You, cousin; Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Ros. Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, enough. Ros. So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banish'd him: Cel. Dear sovereign hear me speak. Cel. I did not then entreat to have 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 have still slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence, and her patience, When she is gone: then open not thy lips; 4 i. e. for him whom she hopes to marry and have children by. So Theobald explains this passage. Some of the modern editions read: my father's child.' 5 Shakspeare's apparent use of dear in a double sense has been already illustrated. See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. i. 6 Celia answers as if Rosalind had said love him, for my sake,' which is the implied sense of her words. 7 i. e. compassion. So in Macbeth: 'Stop the access and passage to remorse.' |