Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort
Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie:This wide and vniuersall TheaterPresents more wofull Pageants then the SceaneWherein we play in
Ia. All the world's a stage,And all the men and women, meerely Players;They haue their Exits and their Entrances,And one man in his time playes many parts,His Acts being seuen ages. At first the Infant,Mewling, and puking in the Nurses armes:Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his SatchellAnd shining morning face, creeping like snaileVnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer,Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull balladMade to his Mistresse eye-brow. Then, a Soldier,Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard,Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell,Seeking the bubble ReputationEuen in the Canons mouth: And then, the IusticeIn faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd,With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut,Full of wise sawes, and moderne instances,And so he playes his part. The sixt age shiftsInto the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone,With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,His youthfull hose well sau'd, a world too wide,For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly voice,Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes,And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all,That ends this strange euentfull historie,Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion,Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing.Enter Orlando with Adam.
Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen,and let him feede
Orl. I thanke you most for him
Ad. So had you neede,I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe
Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you,As yet to question you about your fortunes:Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing.
Song.
Blow, blow, thou winter winde,Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitudeThy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene,although thy breath be rude.Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly,Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly:The heigh ho, the holly,This Life is most iolly.Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nighas benefitts forgot:Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe,as freind remembred not.Heigh ho, sing, &c
Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son,As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were,And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse,Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face,Be truly welcome hither: I am the DukeThat lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune,Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man,Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is:Support him by the arme: giue me your hand,And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.
Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:But were I not the better part made mercie,I should not seeke an absent argumentOf my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it,Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is,Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuingWithin this tweluemonth, or turne thou no moreTo seeke a liuing in our Territorie.Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine,Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth,Of what we thinke against thee
Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this:I neuer lou'd my brother in my life
Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of doresAnd let my officers of such a natureMake an extent vpon his house and Lands:Do this expediently, and turne him going.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Orlando.
Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue,And thou thrice crowned Queene of night surueyWith thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboueThy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway.O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes,And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter,That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where.Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.
Exit
Enter Corin & Clowne.
Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone? Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard? Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred
Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher:Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?Cor. No truly
Clo. Then thou art damn'd
Cor. Nay, I hope
Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side
Cor. For not being at Court? your reason
Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard
Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards
Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance
Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and theirFels you know are greasie
Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard
Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come
Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet
Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard
Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest
Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw
Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke
Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape
Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new MistrissesBrother.Enter Rosalind
Ros. From the east to westerne Inde, no iewel is like Rosalinde, Hir worth being mounted on the winde, through all the world beares Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest Linde, are but blacke to Rosalinde: Let no face bee kept in mind, but the faire of Rosalinde
Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to Market
Ros. Out Foole
Clo. For a taste. If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde, Let him seeke out Rosalinde: If the Cat will after kinde, so be sure will Rosalinde: Wintred garments must be linde, so must slender Rosalinde: They that reap must sheafe and binde, then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde, such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will finde, must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde. This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe with them? Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree
Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite
Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the Medler
Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let theForrest iudge.Enter Celia with a writing.
Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside
Cel. Why should this Desert bee, for it is vnpeopled? Noe: Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree, that shall ciuill sayings shoe. Some, how briefe the Life of man runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span, buckles in his summe of age. Some of violated vowes, twixt the soules of friend, and friend: But vpon the fairest bowes, or at euerie sentence end; Will I Rosalinda write, teaching all that reade, to know The quintessence of euerie sprite, heauen would in little show. Therefore heauen Nature charg'd, that one bodie should be fill'd With all Graces wide enlarg'd, nature presently distill'd Helens cheeke, but not his heart, Cleopatra's Maiestie: Attalanta's better part, sad Lucrecia's Modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts, by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, to haue the touches deerest pris'd. Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die her slaue
Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people
Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah
Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Enter.
Cel. Didst thou heare these verses?Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for someof them had in them more feete then the Verses wouldbeare
Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses
Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse
Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees? Ros. I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember
Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?Ros. Is it a man?Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck:change you colour?Ros. I pre'thee who?Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends tomeete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes,and so encounter
Ros. Nay, but who is it?Cel. Is it possible?Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence,tell me who it is
Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping
Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly
Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard
Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin
Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlersheeles, and your heart, both in an instant
Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake saddebrow, and true maid
Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he
Ros. Orlando?Cel. Orlando
Ros. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one word
Cel. You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme
Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled? Cel. It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne
Ros. It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite
Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam
Ros. Proceed
Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Woundedknight
Ros. Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it wellbecomes the ground
Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettesvnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Hunter
Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart
Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen, thoubring'st me out of tune
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke,I must speake: sweet, say on.Enter Orlando & Iaques.
Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?Ros. 'Tis he, slinke by, and note him
Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faithI had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone
Orl. And so had I: but yet for fashion sakeI thanke you too, for your societie
Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can
Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers
Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees with WritingLoue-songs in their barkes
Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verses with readingthem ill-fauouredly
Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?Orl. Yes, Iust
Iaq. I do not like her name
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when shewas christen'd
Iaq. What stature is she of?Orl. Iust as high as my heart
Iaq. You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquaintedwith goldsmiths wiues, & cond the[m] out of ringsOrl. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath,from whence you haue studied your questions
Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I thinke 'twas made of Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all our miserie
Orl. I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe against whom I know most faults
Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue
Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue:I am wearie of you
Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when Ifound you
Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, andyou shall see him
Iaq. There I shal see mine owne figure
Orl. Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher
Iaq. Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signiorLoue
Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good MonsieurMelancholly
Ros. I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnderthat habit play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester
Orl. Verie wel, what would you?Ros. I pray you, what i'st a clocke?Orl. You should aske me what time o' day: there's noclocke in the Forrest
Ros. Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else sighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold detect the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke
Orl. And why not the swift foote of time? Had not that bin as proper? Ros. By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces, with diuers persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands stil withall
Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnizd: if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard, that it seemes the length of seuen yeare
Orl. Who ambles Time withal? Ros. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because he cannot study, and the other liues merrily, because he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles withal
Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?Ros. With a theefe to the gallowes: for though heego as softly as foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soonthere
Orl. Who staies it stil withal?Ros. With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepebetweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue nothow time moues
Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?Ros. With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in theskirts of the Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat
Orl. Are you natiue of this place?Ros. As the Conie that you see dwell where shee iskindled
Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you couldpurchase in so remoued a dwelling
Ros. I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde religious Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too well: for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read many Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Woman to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal
Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils, that he laid to the charge of women? Ros. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming monstrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it
Orl. I prethee recount some of them
Ros. No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those that are sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses our yong plants with caruing Rosalinde on their barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde. If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him some good counsel, for he seemes to haue the Quotidian of Loue vpon him
Orl. I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel me your remedie
Ros. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you: he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage of rushes, I am sure you art not prisoner
Orl. What were his markes? Ros. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie and sunken, which you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit, which you haue not: a beard neglected, which you haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply your hauing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your sleeue vnbutton'd, your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing about you, demonstrating a carelesse desolation: but you are no such man; you are rather point deuice in your accoustrements, as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer of any other
Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue
Ros. Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant she is apter to do, then to confesse she do's: that is one of the points, in the which women stil giue the lie to their consciences. But in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he
Ros. But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?Orl. Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much
Ros. Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues as wel a darke house, and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the whippers are in loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel
Orl. Did you euer cure any so? Ros. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his Mistris: and I set him euerie day to woe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful of teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the most part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forswear him: now weepe for him, then spit at him; that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world, and to liue in a nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wash your Liuer as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that there shal not be one spot of Loue in't
Orl. I would not be cured, youth
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind,and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me
Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel mewhere it is
Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and bythe way, you shal tell me, where in the Forrest you liue:Wil you go?Orl. With all my heart, good youth
Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister,will you go?
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Clowne, Audrey, & Iaques.
Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp yourGoates, Audrey: and how Audrey am I the man yet?Doth my simple feature content you?Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?Clo. I am heere with thee, and thy Goats, as the mostcapricious Poet honest Ouid was among the Gothes
Iaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse then Ioue ina thatch'd house
Clo. When a mans verses cannot be vnderstood, nor a mans good wit seconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding: it strikes a man more dead then a great reckoning in a little roome: truly, I would the Gods hadde made thee poeticall
Aud. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word: is it a true thing? Clo. No trulie: for the truest poetrie is the most faining, and Louers are giuen to Poetrie: and what they sweare in Poetrie, may be said as Louers, they do feigne
Aud. Do you wish then that the Gods had made mePoeticall?Clow. I do truly: for thou swear'st to me thou art honest:Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue some hopethou didst feigne
Aud. Would you not haue me honest?Clo. No truly, vnlesse thou wert hard fauour'd: forhonestie coupled to beautie, is to haue Honie a sawce toSugar
Iaq. A materiall foole
Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray theGods make me honest
Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a fouleslut, were to put good meate into an vncleane dish
Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes Iam foule
Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest, and to couple vs
Iaq. I would faine see this meeting
Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy
Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no assembly but horne-beasts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are necessarie. It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen so poore men alone: No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the Rascall: Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd Towne is more worthier then a village, so is the forehead of a married man, more honourable then the bare brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious then to want. Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.
Heere comes Sir Oliuer: Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are wel met. Will you dispatch vs heere vnder this tree, or shal we go with you to your Chappell? Ol. Is there none heere to giue the woman? Clo. I wil not take her on guift of any man
Ol. Truly she must be giuen, or the marriage is not lawfull
Iaq. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her
Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you Sir, you are verie well met: goddild you for your last companie, I am verie glad to see you, euen a toy in hand heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd
Iaq. Wil you be married, Motley?Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow sir, the horse his curb,and the Falcon her bels, so man hath his desires, and asPigeons bill, so wedlocke would be nibling
Iaq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be married vnder a bush like a begger? Get you to church, and haue a good Priest that can tel you what marriage is, this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne Wainscot, then one of you wil proue a shrunke pannell, and like greene timber, warpe, warpe
Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee married of him then of another, for he is not like to marrie me wel: and not being wel married, it wil be a good excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife
Iaq. Goe thou with mee,And let me counsel thee
Ol. Come sweete Audrey,We must be married, or we must liue in baudrey:Farewel good Mr Oliuer: Not O sweet Oliuer, O braueOliuer leaue me not behind thee: But winde away, beegone I say, I wil not to wedding with thee
Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a fantastical knaue of themall shal flout me out of my calling.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Rosalind & Celia.
Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe
Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider,that teares do not become a man
Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?Cel. As good cause as one would desire,Therefore weepe
Ros. His very haireIs of the dissembling colour
Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children
Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour
Cel. An excellent colour:Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,As the touch of holy bread
Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie, the very yce of chastity is in them
Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come thismorning, and comes not?Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him
Ros. Doe you thinke so?Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse-stealer,but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him asconcaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut
Ros. Not true in loue?Cel. Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in
Ros. You haue heard him sweare downright he was
Cel. Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no stronger then the word of a Tapster, they are both the confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the forrest on the Duke your father
Ros. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and let mee goe. But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses, speakes braue words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his louer, as a puisny Tilter, y spurs his horse but on one side, breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere? Enter Corin.
Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquiredAfter the Shepheard that complain'd of loue,Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph,Praising the proud disdainfull ShepherdesseThat was his Mistresse
Cel. Well: and what of him?Cor. If you will see a pageant truely plaidBetweene the pale complexion of true Loue,And the red glowe of scorne and prowd disdaine,Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct youIf you will marke it
Ros. O come, let vs remoue,The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue:Bring vs to this sight, and you shall sayIle proue a busie actor in their play.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Siluius and Phebe.
Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not PhebeSay that you loue me not, but say not soIn bitternesse; the common executionerWhose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hardFalls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,But first begs pardon: will you sterner beThen he that dies and liues by bloody drops?Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.
Phe. I would not be thy executioner,I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remainesSome scarre of it: Leane vpon a rushThe Cicatrice and capable impressureThy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyesWhich I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not,Nor I am sure there is no force in eyesThat can doe hurt
Sil. O deere Phebe,If euer (as that euer may be neere)You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,Then shall you know the wounds inuisibleThat Loues keene arrows make
Phe. But till that timeCome not thou neere me: and when that time comes,Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,As till that time I shall not pitty thee
Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your motherThat you insult, exult, and all at onceOuer the wretched? what though you haue no beautyAs by my faith, I see no more in youThen without Candle may goe darke to bed:Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?I see no more in you then in the ordinaryOf Natures sale-worke? 'ods my little life,I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire,Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creameThat can entame my spirits to your worship:You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow herLike foggy South, puffing with winde and raine,You are a thousand times a properer manThen she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as youThat makes the world full of ill-fauourd children:'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,And out of you she sees her selfe more properThen any of her lineaments can show her:But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your kneesAnd thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue;For I must tell you friendly in your eare,Sell when you can, you are not for all markets:Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer,Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer.So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe
Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'llFall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fastAs she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauceHer with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me?Phe. For no ill will I beare you
Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,For I am falser then vowes made in wine:Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him betterAnd be not proud, though all the world could see,None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.Come, to our flocke,Enter.
Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?Sil. Sweet Phebe
Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me
Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius
Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefeWere both extermin'd
Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?Sil. I would haue you
Phe. Why that were couetousnesse:Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee;And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,Thy company, which erst was irkesome to meI will endure; and Ile employ thee too:But doe not looke for further recompenceThen thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue,And I in such a pouerty of grace,That I shall thinke it a most plenteous cropTo gleane the broken eares after the manThat the maine haruest reapes: loose now and thenA scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon
Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,And he hath bought the Cottage and the boundsThat the old Carlot once was Master of
Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well,But what care I for words? yet words do wellWhen he that speakes them pleases those that heare:It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in himIs his complexion: and faster then his tongueDid make offence, his eye did heale it vp:He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well:There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,A little riper, and more lustie redThen that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the differenceBetwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.There be some women Siluius, had they markt himIn parcells as I did, would haue gone neereTo fall in loue with him: but for my partI loue him not, nor hate him not: and yetHaue more cause to hate him then to loue him,For what had he to doe to chide at me?He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me:I maruell why I answer'd not againe,But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?Sil. Phebe, with all my heart
Phe. Ile write it strait:The matter's in my head, and in my heart,I will be bitter with him, and passing short;Goe with me Siluius.
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.
Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee
Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow
Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing
Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne censure, worse then drunkards
Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing
Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste
Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation: nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall; nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is politick: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded of many simples, extracted from many obiects, and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadnesse
Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands, to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands
Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.Enter Orlando.
Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to make me sad, and to trauaile for it too
Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind
Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke verse
Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you lispe, and weare strange suites; disable all the benefits of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue swam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight more
Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my promise
Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapt him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole
Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind
Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my sight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile
Orl. Of a Snaile? Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee carries his house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke then you make a woman: besides, he brings his destinie with him
Orl. What's that?Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholdingto your wiues for: but he comes armed in hisfortune, and preuents the slander of his wife
Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind isvertuous
Ros. And I am your Rosalind
Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind of a better leere then you
Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie Rosalind? Orl. I would kisse before I spoke
Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take occasion to kisse: verie good Orators when they are out, they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse
Orl. How if the kisse be denide?Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there beginsnew matter
Orl. Who could be out, being before his belouedMistris?Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris,or I should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit
Orl. What, of my suite?Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of yoursuite:Am not I your Rosalind?Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I wouldbe talking of her
Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you
Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die
Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is almost six thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in a loue cause: Troilous had his braines dash'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before, and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for (good youth) he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd, and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not for loue
Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frowne might kill me
Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and aske me what you will, I will grant it
Orl. Then loue me Rosalind
Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all
Orl. And wilt thou haue me?Ros. I, and twentie such
Orl. What saiest thou?Ros. Are you not good?Orl. I hope so
Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing: Come sister, you shall be the Priest, and marrie vs: giue me your hand Orlando: What doe you say sister? Orl. Pray thee marrie vs
Cel. I cannot say the words
Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando
Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?Orl. I will
Ros. I, but when?Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs
Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind forwife
Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife
Ros. I might aske you for your Commission, But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans thought runs before her actions
Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd
Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, afteryou haue possest her?Orl. For euer, and a day
Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed: Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky changes when they are wiues: I will bee more iealous of thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a monkey: I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Fountaine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry: I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to sleepe
Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe
Orl. O but she is wise
Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans wit, and it will out at the casement: shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the smoake out at the chimney
Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he mightsay, wit whether wil't?Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till youmet your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed
Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that? Rosa. Marry to say, she came to seeke you there: you shall neuer take her without her answer, vnlesse you take her without her tongue: o that woman that cannot make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse her childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole
Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee
Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres
Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clockI will be with thee againe
Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I thought no lesse: that flattering tongue of yours wonne me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two o' clocke is your howre
Orl. I, sweet Rosalind
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dangerous, if you breake one iot of your promise, or come one minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the most patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer, and the most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may bee chosen out of the grosse band of the vnfaithfull: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise
Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu
Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: adieu. Enter.
Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate: we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her owne neast
Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne bottome, like the Bay of Portugall
Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure affection in, it runs out
Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge, how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and sigh till he come
Cel. And Ile sleepe.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.
Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?Lord. Sir, it was I
Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you no song Forrester for this purpose? Lord. Yes Sir
Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it make noyse enough.
Musicke, Song.
What shall he haue that kild the Deare?His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen;Take thou no scorne to weare the horne,It was a crest ere thou wast borne,Thy fathers father wore it,And thy father bore it,The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?And heere much Orlando
Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,Enter Siluius.
He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forthTo sleepe: looke who comes heere
Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this:I know not the contents, but as I guesseBy the sterne brow, and waspish actionWhich she did vse, as she was writing of it,It beares an angry tenure; pardon me,I am but as a guiltlesse messenger
Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter,And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all:Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,She calls me proud, and that she could not loue meWere man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will,Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well,This is a Letter of your owne deuice
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,Phebe did write it
Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,And turn'd into the extremity of loue.I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand,A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinkeThat her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter:I say she neuer did inuent this letter,This is a mans inuention, and his hand
Sil. Sure it is hers
Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile,A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle braineCould not drop forth such giant rude inuention,Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effectThen in their countenance: will you heare the letter?Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet:Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie
Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.
Read.
Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?That a maidens heart hath burn'd.Can a woman raile thus?Sil. Call you this railing?Ros.
Read.
Why, thy godhead laid a part,War'st thou with a womans heart?Did you euer heare such railing?Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,That could do no vengeance to me.Meaning me a beast.If the scorne of your bright eineHaue power to raise such loue in mine,Alacke, in me, what strange effectWould they worke in milde aspect?Whiles you chid me, I did loue,How then might your praiers moue?He that brings this loue to thee,Little knowes this Loue in me:And by him seale vp thy minde,Whether that thy youth and kindeWill the faithfull offer takeOf me, and all that I can make,Or else by him my loue denie,And then Ile studie how to die
Sil. Call you this chiding?Cel. Alas poore Shepheard
Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
Exit. Sil.
Enter Oliuer.
Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know)Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, standsA sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottomThe ranke of Oziers, by the murmuring streameLeft on your right hand, brings you to the place:But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe,There's none within
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,Then should I know you by description,Such garments, and such yeeres: the boy is faire,Of femall fauour, and bestowes himselfeLike a ripe sister: the woman lowAnd browner then her brother: are not youThe owner of the house I did enquire 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 hee calls his Rosalind,He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he?Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of meWhat man I am, and how, and why, and whereThis handkercher was stain'd
Cel. I pray you tell it
Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you,He left a promise to returne againeWithin an houre, and pacing through the Forrest,Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie,Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside,And marke what obiect did present it selfeVnder an old Oake, whose bows were moss'd with ageAnd high top, bald with drie antiquitie:A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haireLay sleeping on his back; about his neckeA greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe,Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'dThe opening of his mouth: but sodainlySeeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe,And with indented glides, did slip awayInto a bush, vnder which bushes shadeA Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie,Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watchWhen that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tisThe royall disposition of that beastTo prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead:This seene, Orlando did approach the man,And found it was his brother, his elder brother
Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother,And he did render him the most vnnaturallThat liu'd amongst men
Oli. And well he might so doe,For well I know he was vnnaturall
Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him thereFood to the suck'd and hungry Lyonnesse?Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so:But kindnesse, nobler euer then reuenge,And Nature stronger then his iust occasion,Made him giue battell to the Lyonnesse:Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtlingFrom miserable slumber I awaked
Cel. Are you his brother?Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not shameTo tell you what I was, since my conuersionSo sweetly tastes, being the thing I am
Ros. But for the bloody napkin?Oli. By and by:When from the first to last betwixt vs two,Teares our recountments had most kindely bath'd,As how I came into that Desert place.In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment,Committing me vnto my brothers loue,Who led me instantly vnto his Caue,There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his armeThe Lyonnesse had torne some flesh away,Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,And cride in fainting vpon Rosalinde.Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound,And after some small space, being strong at heart,He sent me hither, stranger as I amTo tell this story, that you might excuseHis broken promise, and to giue this napkinDied in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth,That he in sport doth call his Rosalind
Cel. Why how now Ganimed, sweet Ganimed
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on bloud
Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed
Oli. Looke, he recouers
Ros. I would I were at home
Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:I pray you will you take him by the arme
Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?You lacke a mans heart
Ros. I doe so, I confesse it:Ah, sirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfeited,I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited:heigh-ho
Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimonyin your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest
Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you
Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit tobe a man
Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a womanby right
Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you drawhomewards: good sir, goe with vs
Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backeHow you excuse my brother, Rosalind
Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commendmy counterfeiting to him: will you goe?
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Awdrie.
Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentleAwdrie
Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all theolde gentlemans saying
Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vileMar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in theForrest layes claime to you
Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee in the world: here comes the man you meane. Enter William.
Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold
Will. Good eu'n Audrey
Aud. God ye good eu'n William
Will. And good eu'n to you Sir
Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couerthy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd. How olde are youFriend?Will. Fiue and twentie Sir
Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?Will. William, sir
Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?Will. I sir, I thanke God
Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:Art rich?Will. 'Faith sir, so, so
Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:and yet it is not, it is but so, so:Art thou wise?Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit
Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philosopher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid? Will. I do sir
Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?Will. No sir
Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out of a cup into a glasse, by filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent, that ipse is hee: now you are not ipse, for I am he
Will. Which he sir? Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the societie: which in the boorish, is companie, of this female: which in the common, is woman: which together, is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne thou perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or (to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyson with thee, or in bastinado, or in steele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with policie: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble and depart
Aud. Do good William
Will. God rest you merry sir.
Exit
Enter Corin.
Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away,away
Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend,I attend.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Orlando & Oliuer.
Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should loue her? And louing woo? and wooing, she should graunt? And will you perseuer to enioy her? Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the pouertie of her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing, nor sodaine consenting: but say with mee, I loue Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee; consent with both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere liue and die a Shepherd. Enter Rosalind.