Orla. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk 5 in blank verse. [Exit. Ros. Farewel, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits: disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola1.—Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while ? You a lover?an you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orla. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Orla. What, of my suit? Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not Ï your Rosalind?

Orla. 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 you.

Orla. Then, in mine own person, I die.

Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 10 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 dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; and he is one of the 15 patterns of love. Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd 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 lyes; men have died from time to time, and worins have eaten them, but not for love.

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a mi-20 nute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Orla. I would not have my right Rosalind of this

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more 25 mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. in my sight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orla. Of a snail?

Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I an in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent: -What would you say to ine now, an I were e your very very Rosalind?

Orla. I would kiss, before I spoke.

40

45

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, 50 lacking (God warn us!) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

Orla. How if the kiss be denied?

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

Orla. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.

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.

Orla. Then love me, Rosalind.

Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, and all.

Orla. And wilt thou have me?
Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
Orla. What say'st thou?
Ros. Are you not good?
Orla. I hope so.

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?

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot say the words.

Ros. You must begin,-"Will you, Orlando,”— Cel. Go to:--Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?

Orla. I will,

Ros. Ay, but when?

Orla. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,—“I take thee Rosalind, for wife.'

Orla. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There's 55 a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.

160

Orla. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.
Ros. Now tell me, how long would you have
her, after you have possess'd her?
Orla. For ever, and a day.

That is, been at Venice, which was much visited by the young English gentlemen of those times, and was then, what Paris is now-the seat of all licentiousness. i. e. of a better feature, complexion, or colour, than you. Haniner and Edwards read Coroner's, which I approve. S. A.

Ros

Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Or-
lando; men are April when they woo, December
when they wed: maids are May when they are
maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.-
I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-5
pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a par-
Tot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape:
more giddy in my desires than a monkey; I will
weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and
I will do that when you are dispos'd to be merry;
I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art
inclin'd to sleep.

Orla. But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orla. O, but she is wise.

10

pluck'd over your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to 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. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love:-I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of sight of Orlan15 do: I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt.

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the doors' upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, it will fly with the smoak out at the 20 chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say," Wit, whither wilt?"

Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it 'till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Orla. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters.
Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?
Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory: 25-Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? For. Yes, sir.

Ros. Marry, to say, she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her an-30 swer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion', let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!

Orla. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will 35 leave thee.

Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orla. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again.

Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;-I knew 40 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 so,come, death.-Two o'the clock is your hour?

Orla. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune so it make noise enough.

Musick, Song.

1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?
2. His leather skin, and horns to wear.
1. Then sing him home:

Take thou no scorn

To wear the horn, the lusty horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born.
1. Thy father's father wore it;
2. And thy father bore it :
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

SCENE III.

Enter Rosalind, and Celia.

The rest

shall bear

this bar

den.

[Exeunt.

Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock and here's much Orlando!

45 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.

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 50 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.

Orla. With no less religion, than if thou wert 55 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 60 love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose

i.e. bar the doors,

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth;-
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:

[Giving a letter,

I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,"
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,

I am but as a guiltless messenger. [this letter,
Ros. [reading.] Patience herself would startle at
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud; and, that she could not loveme
Were man as rare as phoenix: 'Od's my will!

That is, represent her fault as occasioned by her husband.

Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :
Why writes she so to me?-Well, shepherd, well,|
This is a letter of your own device.

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-coloured hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her bands;
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.

5

Enter Oliver.

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you' Where in the purlieus of this forest, stands [know A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?

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,
10 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 years: "The boy is fair,
"Of female favour, and bestows himself

15" Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,
"And browner than her brother." Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel stile,
A stile 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 [letter?
Than in their countenance :-Will you hear the 20
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.

Ros. She Phebe's me: Mark how the tyrant] writes.

[Reads.] "Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?”—

Can a woman rail thus?

Sil. Call you this railing?

Ros. [Reads.] "Why, thy godhead laid apart, "War'st thou with a woman's heart?" Did you ever hear such railing?—

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance' to me."-
Meaning me a beast.-

"If the scorn of your bright eyne
"Have power to raise such love in mine,
"Alack, in me what strange effect
"Would they work in mild aspect?
"Whiles you chid me, 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

6.

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!

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 I am, and how, and why, and where
25 This handkerchief was stain'd.
[you,

Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
30 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
And, mark, what object did present itself!
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,

35 A wretched ragged man, o'er grown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly
40 Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch
45 When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast,

50

Ros. Do you pity him? no, 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 55 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, unless thou intreat for her." If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.

[Exit Silvius.

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same
brother,

And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd 'mongst men.

Oli. And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But, to Orlando:---Did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so:
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
60 And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,

1i. e.mischief. 2 Kind (as has been more than once observed) is the old word for nature. i. e. handkerchief.

Who

Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 5
Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion-
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?—

Oli. By and by.

When from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,

- As how I came into that desert place;-
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,

There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

10

Cel. There is more in it:-Cousin-Ganymed!
Oli. Look, he recovers.

Ros. I would, I were at home.
Cel. We'll lead you thither :-

pray you, will you take him by the arm?
Oli. Be of good cheer, youth:-You a man?—
you lack a man's heart.

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think 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 15 testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, 20
And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him; bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymed? sweet Gany-
med?
[Rosalind faints.[30

of earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well, then, take a good heart, and counIterfeit 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 homewards:-Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back 25 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Ros. I shall devise something: But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him:-Will you

go?

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The Forest.

АСТ

Enter Clown, and Audrey.

Clo. WE shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Clo. 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.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean. Enter William.

V.

140 Clo. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be cover'd. How old are you, friend?

45

50

Clo. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: By my troth, we that have good wits, have much 55 to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.

Will. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William.

Will. And good even to you, sir.

2

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?

Will. William, sir.

Clo. A fair name: Wast born i'the forest here?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Clo. Thank God;-a good answer: Art rich?
Will. Faith, sir, so so.

Clo. So so; 'Tis good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Clo. 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 60 to eat, and lips to open. "You do love this maid?

To hurtle is to move with impetuosity and tumult. 2 This was designed as a sneer on the several trifling and insignificant sayings and actions, recorded in the ancient philosophers, by the writers of their lives, as appears from its being introduced as one of their wise sayings.

Will.

Will. Which he, sir?

5

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon, when he shewed me your handkerchief?

Orla. Ay, and greater wonders than that.

Ros. O, I know where you are:-Nay, 'tis true: there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar's thrasonical brag of—I came, saw, and overcame: For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they look'd; no 10 sooner look'd, but they lov'd; no sooner lov'd, but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd, but they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them '.

Clo. He, sir, that must marry this woman: Therefore, you, clown, abandon,which is in the vulgar, leave, the society,-which in the boorish is, company,—of this female,—which in the common is,—woman,-which together is, abandon the 15 society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; 120 will bandy with thee in faction; I will over-run 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.

[Exit. 25

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away, away.

Clo. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey; I attend, I
[Exeunt. 30

attend.

SCENE II.

Enter Orlando and Oliver.

Orla. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you 35 should love her? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should grant? And will you persever to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my 40 sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she Joves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good; for my fa ther's house, and all the revenue that was old sir 45 Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

Enter Rosalind.

Orla. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke, 50 and all his contented followers: Go you, and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.

Ros. God save you, brother.
Oli. And you, fair sister.

Ros. Oh, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf!

Orta. It is my arm.

Ros. I thought, thy heart had been wounded! with the claws of a lion.

Orla. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of Jady.

Orla. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having what he wishes for.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orla. I can live no longer by thinking.

Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then, (for now I speak to some purpose) that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three years old, convers'd with a magician, most profound in his art, and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, you shall marry her: I know into what straights of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any danger.

Orla. Speak'st thou in sober meanings?

Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I'am a magician: Therefore, put you on your best array, bid your friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to Ro salind, if you will.

Enter Silvius and Phebe. 55 Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of [ness, Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle To shew the letter that I writ to you.

hers.

Ros. I care not, if I have: it is my study,
60 To seem despightful and ungentle to you:
You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.

This alludes to the way of calling for clubs at the breaking out of an affray.

Phe.