Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un-[As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;

happy:

This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.
Jaq.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms:
And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden' and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern2 instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Re-enter Orlando, with Adam.

Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable
burden,

And let him feed.

Orl.

I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need;

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes:-
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

Amiens sings.
SONG.
I.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere
folly:

Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

II.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bile so nigh,
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn'd, and living in your face,→
Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke,
That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me.-Good old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is:
Support him by the arm.-Give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exe

АСТ ІІ.

SCENE L-A room in the palace. Enter Duke
Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and attendants.

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can-
not be:

I should not seek an absent argument
But were I not the better part made mercy,
Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it;
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.

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 brother's mouth,
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this!
I never lov'd my brother in my life.
Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him
out of doors;

And let my officers of such a nature
Do this expediently, and turn him going.
Make an extent upon his house and lands:

C

[Exe.

SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter Orlando, with a paper.

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:

And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
That every eye, which in this forest looks,

Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree,
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive" she. [Exit.
Enter Corin and Touchstone.

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone?

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast thou any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends:-That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That good pasture makes fat

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Row-sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack

land's son,

of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by

(5) Seize by legal process.
(7) Inexpressible.

(6) Expeditiously.

214

nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted. comes of a very dull kindred.

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher.-|

Wast ever in court, shepherd?

Cor. No, truly.

Touch. Then thou art damn'd.
Cor. Nay, I hope,-

Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an illroasted egg, all on one side.

Cor. For not being at court? Your reason.

Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

it

is the right butter-woman's rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool!
Touch. For a taste:-

Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are good manners, at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is most This mockable at the court. You told me, you salute you not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy.

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin❜d,
So must slender Rosalind.

They that reap, must sheaf and bind ;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.

He that sweetest rose will find,
Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
is the very false gallop of verses; Why do
infect yourself with them?

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole-no, let the forest judge. some as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance, I say; come.

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come. Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; And would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indeed!Learn of the wise, and perpend: Civet is of a ser birth than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.'

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck.

Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle: to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a shelamb of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou should'st 'scape.

Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.

Enter Rosalind, reading a paper.

Ros. From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.

Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest lin'd,2

Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind,
But the fair of Rosalind.

Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together;
(2) Delineated.
83) Coexperienced
Complexion, beauty. (4) Grave, solemn.

Enter Celia, reading a paper.

Ros. Peace!

Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches' dearest priz'd.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good people!

Cel. How now! back, friends;-Shepherd, go off a little:-Go with him, sirrah.

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exe. Cor. and Touch. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?

Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; (5) Features.

for some of them had in them more feet than the the propositions of a lover:-but take a taste of my verses would bear. finding him, and relish it with a good observance. found him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn. Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the

verses.

Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon these trees?

I

Cel. Give me audience, good madam.

Ros. Procced.

Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it

Cel. There lay hc, stretch'd along, like a wounded knight. Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the well becomes the ground. wonder, before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour?

Ros. I pr'ythee, who?

Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends! to meet; but mountains may be removed with! earthquakes, and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it?
Cel. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping!1

Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay mere is a South-sea-off discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace: I would thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed 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 pr'ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. Ros. Is he of God's 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 be thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.

Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid."

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Orlando ?
Cel. Orlando.

Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like hunter.

a

Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Enter Orlando and Jaques.

Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not ¡here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him.

[Celia and Rosalind retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

I

Orl. And so had I: but yet, for fashion's sake, thank you too for your society.

Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can.

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl. Yea, just.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.

Jaq. What stature is she of? Orl. Just as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

6

Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.

Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love. Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose?-What did he, when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for mc? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, me in one word. and you shall see him.

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size: To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in the forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve

(1) Out of all measure.

(2) Speak seriously and honestly.
(3) How was he dressed?

Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.

Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure. Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good signior love.

Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy.

[Exit Jaques.-Celia and Rosalind come forward, (4) The giant of Rabelais. (5) Motes. (6) An allusion to the moral sentences on old tapestry hangings.

Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: and under that habit play the knave with him.he taught me how to know a man in love; in which Do you hear, forester ? cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. Orl. What were his marks?

Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's eye, and sunken; which you have not an unno clock in the forest.

questionable spirit; which you have not: a beard Ros. Then, there is no true lover in the forest; neglected; which you have not:-but I pardon else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, you for that; for, simply, your having in beard is would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. a younger brother's revenue:-Then your hose Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your not that been as proper? sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every Ros. By no means, sir; Time travels in divers thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. paces with divers persons: I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.

Ort. Who ambles time withal? Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein man that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps ca-Rosalind is so admired?

sily, because he cannot study; and the other lives Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury: These time ambles withal.

Orl. I pr'ythee, recount some of them. Ros. No; I will not cast away my physic, but me where it is. on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the

Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you: and, forest, that abuses our young plants with carving by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw-you live: Will you go?

thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, Orl. With all my heart, good youth.

deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :-Come, that fancy-monger, I would give him some good sister, will you go? counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.

Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked; I pray you, tell me your remedy. (2)

(3) A spirit averse to conve Civilized (4) Estate.

up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you? Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features ?

Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her.

Touch. Good even, good master What ye call't: How do you, sir? You are very well met God'ild Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as you for your last company: I am very glad to see the most capricious' poet, honest Ovid, was among you :-Even a toy in hand here, sir:-Nay; pray, the Goths. be cover'd.

Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Jove in a thatch'd house! [Aside. Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the for-desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more nibbling. dead than a great reckoning in a little room :Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?

Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poctry; and what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do feign.

Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made me poetical?

Touch. I do, truly: for thou swear'st to me, thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest? Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd: for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

[Aside.

Jaq. A material fool! Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest!

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.4

Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee: and to that end I have been with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us.

[Aside.

Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. Aside.

Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey;

We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good master Oliver;
Not-O sweet Oliver,

O brave Oliver,

Leave me not behi' thee;
But-Wind away,

Begone, I say,

I will not to wedding wi' thee.

[Exe. Jaq. Touch, and Audrey. Sur Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knaye of them all shall flout ine out of my calling. [Ex. Before a Collage. SCENE IV-The same.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.
Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to
consider, that tears do not become a man.
Ros. But have I not cause to weep?

Jaq. I would fain see this meeting.
Aud. Well, the gods give us joy!
Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a
fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we
have no temple but the wood, no assembly but
horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As his kisses are Judas's own children.
horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said,—
Many a man knows no end of his goods: right:
many a man has good horns, and knows no end of
them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis
none of his own getting.-Horns! Even so :-
Poor men alone;--No, no; the noblest deer hath
them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man
therefore blessed? No: as a wall'd town is more
worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a mar-
ried man more honourable than the bare brow of
bachelor: and by how much defences is better than
no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than
to want.

Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep."

Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry,

Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.

Cel. An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever the only colour.

Enler Sir Oliver Mar-text.

a

Here comes sir Oliver:-sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met: Will you despatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ?

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?

Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him,
Ros. Do you Link so?

Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor & horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worn eaten nut.

Ros. Not true in love?

Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in.
Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?
Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the mar-was.
riage is not lawful.

(1) Lascivious. (2) Ill-lodged.
(3) A fool with matter in him. (4) Homely.
(5) Lean deer are called rascal deer.

Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are

(6) The art of fencing. (7) God reward you. (8) Yoke.