beauty," Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, Over the wretched? What though? you have no speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny filter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose: but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides: -Who comes here? Enter CORIN. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Ros. [Exeunt. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: In bitterness. The common executioner, hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. The palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes, Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever, (as that ever may be near,) That you insult, exult, and all at once, 1 When the tilter, by unsteadiness or awkwardness, suffered his spear to be turned out of its direction, and to be broken across the body of his adversary, instead of by the push of the point, it was held very disgraceful. 2 i. e. mistress. 3 Sir Thomas Hanmer proposed to read nose-quilled goose,' which has received some support from Farmer and Steevens. 4 i. e. he who to the very end of life, continues a common executioner. So in the second Scene of Act. v. of this play live and die a shepherd.'. The cicatrice and palpable impressure.' The old topy reads 'capable impressure. I think it is evident we should read palpable. For no one can surely be satisfied with the strained explanations offered by Johnson and Malone. Cicatrice, however improperly, is (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you, than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work :-Od's my little life! I think she means to tangle my eyes too: No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk-hair, Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, That can entame my spirits to your worship,You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? You are a thousand times a properer man, Than she a woman: "Tis such fools as you, That make the world full of ill-favour'd children: 'Tis not her glass but you that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper, Than of her lineaments can show her.But mistress, know yourself; down on your knees And thank heaven fasting, for a good man's love : For I must tell you friendly in your ear,Sell when you can; you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer; So take her to thee, shepherd :-fare you well. Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year to I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. gether; any Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.-Why look you so upon me? Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine: Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house, 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by:Will you go, sister?-Shepherd, ply her hard :Come, sister:-Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud: though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as he." Come, to our flock. [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?10 If Phe. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius? Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Phe. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly? Phe. Why, that were covetousness. used for skin mark, which is in fact a scar, though not 6 Love. 7 What though? you have no beauty. This is the reading of the old copy, which Malone thought erroneous, and proposed to read mo' beauty; Steevens adopted his emendation, and reads more. This is certainly wrong; the whole of Rosalind's spirited address to Phebe tends to the disparagement of her beauty, and whoever reads it with attention will conclude with me that the old copy is right. 9 That is, says Johnson, The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers.' 9 If all men could see you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. 10 This line is from Marlowe's beautiful poem of Hero and Leander, left unfinished at his death in 1592, and first published in 1593, when it became very popu lar. " Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft: And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlot' once was master of. Phe, Think not I love him, though I ask for him; "Tis but a peevish2 boy :-yet he talks well ;But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth :-not very pretty :But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him: He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near I have more cause to hate him than to love him : He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; I marvel, why I answer'd not again; And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius? I'll write it straight; ACT IV. [Exeunt. SCENE I. The same. Enter ROSALIND, CE- Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards. Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad; I fear you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. rather have a fool to make me merry, than experi Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had ence to make me sad; and to travel for it too. Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit. Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits: disable all the benenativity, and almost chide God for making you that fits of your own country; be out of love with your have swam in a gondola."-Why, how now, countenance you are; or I will scarce think you Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover?-An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my_promise. Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute Cupid hath clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. Orl. Of a snail? Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head: a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with him. Orl. What's that? Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife. Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. Ros. And I am your Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind? Ori. I would kiss, before I spoke. Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us!) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Orl. How if the kiss be denied? Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your misnor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the law-tress; or I should think my honesty ranker than yer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness." my wit. Orl. What, of my suit? Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not your Rosalind? Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Ros. Well, in her person, I say-I will not have Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night: for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drowned; and the foolish chroniclers' of that age found it was-Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. thee. Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, o'clock I will be with thee again. and all. Orl. And wilt thou have me? Ros. Ay, and twenty such. Ros. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good thing-Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us.-Give me your hand, Orlando :What do you say, sister? Orl. Pray thee, marry us. this Rosalind? Orl. I will. Ros. Ay, but when? Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,-I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but -I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions. Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have her after you have possessed her. Orl. For ever and a day. Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;-I knew what you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less-that flattering tongue of yours won me :-'tis but one cast away, and 80,--come, death. Two o'clock is your hour? Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: So, adieu. Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: Adieu! [Exit ORLANDO. Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love prate: we must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done with her own nest." Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo: December Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, when they wed: maids are May when they are that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that I will be more jealous of thee than a barbary cock-abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot let him be judge, how deep I am in love :-I'll tell against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlangiddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for do: I'll go find a shadow,1° and sigh till he come. nothing, like Diana in the fountain; and I will do Cel. And I'll sleep. that when you are disposed to be merry: I will laugh like a hven 3 and that when thou art inclined to sleep. Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? 1 The foolish chroniclers. Sir Thomas Hanmer reada coroners; and it must be confessed the context seems to warrant the innovation, unless Shakspeare means to designate the jury impanneled on a coroner's inquest by the term chroniclers. 2 Figures, and particularly that of Diana, with water conveyed through them, were anciently a frequent ornament of fountains. 3 The bark of the hyena was thought to resemble a loud laugh. 4 i. e. bar the doors. 5 Wit, whither wilt? This was a kind of proverbial phrase, the origin of which has not been traced. It seems to be used chiefly to express a want of command over the fancy or inventive faculty. It occurs in many writers of Shakspeare's time. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the Forest. Enter Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's 6 This bit of satire is also to be found in Chaucer's Marchantes Tale, where Proserpine says of women on like occasion: For lacke of answere none of us shall dien.' 7 i. e. represent her fault as occasioned by her hus. band. Hanmer reads, her husband's accusation. 8 Pathetical and passionate were used in the same sense in Shakspeare's time. Whether Rosalind has any more meaning than Costard in the use of the word when he calls Armado's boy a most pathetical nit.' I leave the reader to judge. 9 This is borrowed from Lodge's Rosalynd. 'Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there horns upon his head, for a branch of victory: Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? 2 Lord. Yes, sir. Did you ever hear such railing?— Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so Meaning me, a beast.— it makes noise enough. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando !2 Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to sleep: Look, who comes here. Enter SILVIUS. me, If the scorn of your bright eynes Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect? Whales you chid I did love; How then might your prayers move? He, that brings this love to thee, Little knows this love in me: And by him seal up thy mind; Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take Of me, and all that I can make; Or else by him my love deny, And then I'll study how to die. Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! no, Ros. Do you pity him? he deserves no pity.Wilt thou love such a woman?-What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured!-Well, go your way to her, (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,") and say this to her;-That if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, [Giving a letter. unless thou entreat for her.-If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit SILVIUS. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth :- I know not the contents; but as I guess, Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter, Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents; Phebe did write it. Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; She has a huswife's hand: but that's no matter: I say, she never did invent this letter; This is a man's invention, and his hand. Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers: why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance :-Will you hear the letter? Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet. Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant writes. 1 In Playford's Musical Companion, 1673, where this song is set to music by John Hilton, the words Then sing him home' are omitted, and it should be remarked that in the old copy, these words, and those which have been regarded by the editors as a stage direction, are given in one line. 2 i. e. here is no Orlando. Much was a common ironical expression of doubt or suspicion, still used by the vulgar in the same sense; as, much of that!? 3 Mason thinks that part of Silvius's speech is lost, and that we should read 'Phebe did write it with her own fair hand.' and then Rosalind's reply follows more naturally. 4 i. e. mischief. 5 Eyne for eyes. 8 Kind, for nature, or natural affections. Enter OLIVER. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you know Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom, The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Left on your right hand, brings you to the place: But at this hour the house doth keep itself," There's none within. Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then I should know you by description; Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair, Of female favour, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister: but the woman low, Are not you And browner than her brother. The owner of the house I did inquire for? Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both; And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind, He sends this bloody napkin; Are you he? Ros. I am: What must we understand by this? Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was stain'd. Cel. I pray you, tell it. Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again 7 A poor snake was a term of reproach equivalent to a wretch or poor creature. Hence also a sneaking or creeping fellow. Si. e. acts, or behaves like, &c. 9 A napkin and handkerchief were the same thing in Shakspeare's time, as we gather from the dictionaries of Baret and Hutton in their explanations of the word Casitium and Sudarium. Napkin, for handkerchief, is still in use in the north. 10 i. e. love, which is always thus described by our old poets as composed of contraries. 11 The ancient editions read, under an old oak,' which hurts the measure without improving the sense The correction was made by Steevens. lato a bush under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Ros. I shall devise something; But, I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him:-Will you go ACT V. Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, SCENE I. The same. The royal disposition of that beast, Το prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: This seen, Orlando did approach the man, And he did render' him the most unnatural O. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so: Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling2 Cel. Are you his brother? Was it you he rescu'd? Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame Oli. Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, am, To tell this story, that you might excuse mede ? [Exeunt. Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. in me in the world: here comes the man you mean. Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest Enter WILLIAM. Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: Aud. God ye good even, William. Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pry'thee, be covered. How old are you, friend?" Will. Five-and-twenty, sir. Touch. A ripe age: Is thy name William ? Touch. A fair name: Wast born i' the forest here? Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. Touch. Thank God ;-a good answer: Art rich? Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. thou wise? Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. Art Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid? Will. I do, sir. Touch. Give me your hand: Art thou learned? Touch. Then learn this of me: To have, is to have: For it is a figure in rhetorick, that drink, Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany-being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other: for all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for am he. [ROSALIND faints. I would, I were at home. Will. Which he, sir? Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman: Therefore, you clown, abandon,-which is in the I pray you, will you take him by the arm? vulgar, leave, the society,-which in the boorish Oli. Be of good cheer, youth:-You a man?-is, company,-of this female,---which in the comYou lack a man's heart. mon is,---woman, which together is, abandon the Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest ; think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, i Your brother how well I counterfeited.-Heigh kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into bideath, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'errun thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble, and depart. Aud. Do, good William. Will. God rest you, merry sir. Enter CORIN. Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest. Ras. Counterfeit, I assure you. O. Well then, take a good heart, and counter feit to be a man. Ros. So I do: but, i'faith, I should have been a woman by right. Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw raw homewards :-Good sir, go with us. Oh. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 11. e. represent or render this account of him. 21. e. jostling or clashing, encounter. [Exit. Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away, away. Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey ;---I attend, I attend. [Exeunt. 3 Warburton thinks this a sneer at the insignificant sayings and actions recorded of the ancient philoso phers by the writers of their lives. |
