Orl. I will no further offend you than, becomes me for my good. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. 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 Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have growth: for the which his animals on his dung-lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM. nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the someOli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thoubars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in sand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis! Enter DENNIS. him lies, mines my gentility with my education, This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit 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 a oid it. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be Daught awhile. 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 he 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 akes 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 s nearer to his reverence.4 Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too Young in this. 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 younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile 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 exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? 9 Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Ol. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain. Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to unthrice a villain, that says, such a father begot vil-derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try lains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled and he that escapes me without some broken limb, out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your fa- 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 my love to you, I came hither him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. thyself. ther's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good -education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like quaOli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, lities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, 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? See note in Love's La- extraction. bour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. 2 Be naught awhile. Warburton justly explained this phrase, which, he says, 'is only a north-country proverbial curse equivalent to a mischief on you.' 3 The first folio reads him, the second he more correctly. 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. 8 i. e. the usurping duke's daughter; this may be sufficiently apparent by the words her cousin, yet it has been thought necessary to point out the ambiguity. 9 Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent in French Flanders, lying near the river Meuse, and be tween Charlemont and Rocroy. 10 Fleet, i. e. to flitte, to make to pass or flow. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: and thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practice against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by 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 bring. I sneak 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 panished 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. Enter TOUCHSTONE. Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair crea ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argumem? Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit. Cal. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neithe, 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'a for taxation, one of these days. Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es-wisely, what wise men do foolishly. tate, 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. 5 This reply to the Clown, in the old copies, is given 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. Enter LE BEAU. Ros. With his mouth full of news. Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons fecu their young. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: What's the news? Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. 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 ' 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 taxation? This was the discipline usually inflicted upon focis. 7 Laid on with a trowel. This is a proverbial phrase 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 inan batters gross father, and it is therefore most probable the reply shouldly, it is a common expression to say, that he lays it on be hers. with a trowel. 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. 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 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 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 [Exeunt DUKE FRED. Train, and LE BEA J. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? His youngest son;-and would not change that Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, 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: Gentleman, Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune;" [Giving him a Chain from her neck. That could give more, but that her hand lacks Shall we go, coz? Cel. 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 unusua! 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. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Ros. Have with you:-Fare you well. I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter: Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; 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. 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. 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. 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. Me, uncle? Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: If with myself I hold intelligence, Ros. Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, 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; Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. 4 i. e. for him whom she hopes to marry and have 1 His better parts, i. e. his spirits or senses. A quin-children by. So Theobald explains this passage. Some tain 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. 3 The old copy reads taller, which is evidently wrong. Pope altered it to shorter. The present reading is Malone's. 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' Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege : cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, provide yourself; If you cut-stay the time, upon mine honour, die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros, I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Pr'ythee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me his daughter? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth me that thou and I are one: Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No; let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us: And do not seek to take your change1 upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. Were it not better, Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? And therefore, look you, call me Ganymede. Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, [Exeunt. 1 The second folio reads charge. Malone explains it to take your change or reverse of fortune upon your. self, without any aid of participation.' 2' A kind of umber,' a dusky yellow-coloured earth, brought from Umbria in Italy, well known to artists. 3 This was one of the old words for a cutlass, or short crooked sword, coutelas, French. It was variously spelled, courtlas, courtlar, curtlar. 4 i. e. as we now say, dashing; spirited and calcula. ted to surprise. 5 The old copy reads 'not the penalty.' Theobald proposed to read but, and has been followed by subsequent editors. Surely the old reading is right,' says Mr. Boswell; 'here we feel not, do not suffer, from the penalty of Adam; for when the winter's wind blows upon my body, I smile and say' ACT II. SCENE I. The forest of Arden. Enter Duk senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in the dress o Foresters. Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,This is no flattery; these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,— Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines, with forked heads Have their round haunches gor❜d. 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:" To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose1 In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. But what said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle? * Duke S. 1 Lord, O yes, into a thousand similes. To that which had too much :12 Then, being alone, you 9 Gray, in his Elegy, has availed himself of this pas sage. "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.' 10 Saucius at quadrupes nota intra tecta refugit Successitque gemens stabulis; questuque cruentus Atque imploranti similis, tectum omne replevit.' Virg 11 i. e. the stream that needed not such a supply of 6 It was currently believed in the time of Shakspeare that the toad had a stone contained in its head which was endued with singular virtues. This was called the toad-moisture. 12 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint: -in a river Upon whose weeping margin she was set Like usury applying wet to wet.' |