EPILOGUE. Ros. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 't is true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnish'd like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you ; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them: and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as, I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were among you, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleas'd me, and complexions that lik'd me: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. THE END. ERRATUM. Page 16, line 20, for one of suits, read, one out of suits. Printed by S. Gosnell, Little Queen Street, London. To tell you what I was, since my conversion When, from the first to last, betwixt us two, Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Brief, I recover'd him; bound up his wound To tell this story, that you might excuse I [Rosalind faints. Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Garymede! Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. Cel. There is more in it :—Cousin Ganymede ! 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 testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest. Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. f Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit 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 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Ros. I shall devise something: But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. END OF ACT, IV. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. A Part of the Forest. Enter Touchstone, and Audrey. Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. Aud. Ay, I know who 't is; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean. Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. Enter William. Will. Good even, Audrey. Will. And good even to you, sir. Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be cover'd. How old are you, friend? Will. Five and twenty, sir. Touch. A ripe age: Is thy name, William? Will. William, sir. Touch. A fair name: Wast born i' the forest here? Will. Ay, sir, I thank heaven. Touch. Thank heaven :—a good answer :—Art rich? Will. 'Faith, sir, so, so. Touch. So, so, is 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. Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid? Will. I do, sir. Touch. Give me your hand:—Art thou learned? Will. No, sir. Touch. Then, learn this of me; To have, is to have: For it is a figure in rhetorick, that drink, being pour'd out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other: For all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he. Will. Which he, sir? Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman: Therefore, you clown, abandon,—which is in the vulgar, leave, the society,—which in the boorisha is, company, of this female,—which in the common is, woman;—which together is, abandon the society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy |