away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when I was too young that time to value her, 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: O, how full of briers is this working-day world! 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; it 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. But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her Her very silence, and her patience, When she is gone: then open not thy lips; I Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in cannot live out of her company. Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. 1 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, despatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. Ros. Me, uncle? Duke F. Ros. I do beseech your grace, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Duke F. Thus do all traitors; Ros. So was I, when your highness took his So was I, when your highness banish'd him; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. [Exeunt Duke Frederick and lords. Cel. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art s Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own And therefore look you call me, Ganymede. Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, No longer Celia, but Aliena. Else had she with her father rang'd along. (1) Inveterately. (2) Compassion (3) A dusky, yellow-coloured earth. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? 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 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? Indeed, my lord,| (1) Barbed arrows, (2) Encounter. (3) Scurvy. 'Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. SCENE II.A room in the palace. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw It cannot be: some villains of my court 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. If he be absent, bring his brother to me, Orl. Who's there? O, my sweet master, O you memory' of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Orl. Why, what's the matter? (6) Inconsiderate, Your brother (no, no brother; yet the son- He will have other means to cut you off: This is no place,' this house is but a butchery; Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and beg my food? Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Orl. O good old n.an; how well in thee appears Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.— From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 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. SCENE IV.-The Forest of Arden. Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest like a Shepherdess, and Touchstone. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my (1) Mansion, residence. འ (2) Blood turned from its natural course. (S) A piece of money stamped with a cross, Iman'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 petticoat: there. fore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot 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 I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Enter Corin and Silvius. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not 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. Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Or if thou has not broke from company, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own. Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet,' and the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'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 Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. If he for gold will give us any food; Touch. Holla; you, clown! Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Cor. Who calls? Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. (4) In the night. (5) The instrument with which washers best Iclothes, Fair sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, But I am shepherd to another inan, 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 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: and others. SONG. Ami. Under the greenwood tree, And tune his merry note Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. [Exe. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it. Jaq. Thus it goes: If it do come to pass, An if he will come to Ami. Ami. What's that ducdame ? Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into 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 SCENE VI.-The same. prepar❜d. [Exeunt severally. Enter Orlando and Adam. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, 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 a while at the arm's end: I will here be with to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but if thou diest thee presently; and if I bring thee not something Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exe. you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out. Enter you them stanzas? Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing? 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. Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll Here was he merry, hearing of a song. thank you: but that they call compliment, is like We shall have shortly discord in the spheres:Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him. penny, and he records me the beggarly thanks. Enter Jaques. 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach, (3) Disputatious. ... (4) Made up of discords, Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What! you look merrily. Jaq. A fool, a fool!I met a fool i' the forest, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.' Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been courtier ; The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein Or else a rude despiser of good manners, Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show a Till I and my affairs are answered. And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, It is my only suit; In mangled forms:-0, that I were a fool! Even by the squandering glances of the fool. To speak my mind, and I will through and through I Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. you: Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray I thought that all things had been savage here; 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. Truc is it that we have seen better days; And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church; Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd: would'st do. Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding 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, Would'st 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-woman bears (1) The fool was anciently dressed in a partycoloured coat, And therefore sit you down in gentleness, Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, (2) Finery. Go find him out, (3) Well brought up. (4) Good manners, |