The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Orlando.

I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not, As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe.

Rosalind.

Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd.[Rosalind. [To the Duke.] You say, if I bring in your You will bestow her on Orlando here?

Duke, Senior. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. Rosalind. [To Orlando. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her?

Orlando.

That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.

God'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear, according as marriage binds, and blood breaks. [To Phebe.A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own: a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor-house, as your pearl in your foul oyster.

Rosalind. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? Phebe.

That will I, should I die the hour after.

Rosalind.

My lord, the first time that I ever saw him,
Methought he was a brother to your daughter:
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born,
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.

Enter Touchstone and Audrey.
Jaques.

There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.

Touchstone.

Salutation and greeting to you all.
Jaques.

Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he

swears.

Touchstone.

If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been polític with my friend,

Duke, Senior.

By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touchstone. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.

Jaques.

But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? Touchstone.

Upon a lie seven times removed. - Bear your body more seeming, Audrey. As thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the retort courteous." If I sent him word

again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the quip modest." If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: this is called the "reply churlish." If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the "reproof valiant." If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: this is called the "countercheck quarrelsome;" and so to the "lie circumstantial," and the "lie direct."

O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous; the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the fifth, the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie, with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an if. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if, as If you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your if is the only peace-maker; much virtue in if.

Jaques.

I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.-
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power, which were on foot
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here, and put him to the sword.
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came,
Where, meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world;
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor'd to them again,
That were with him exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my life.

Duke, Senior.

Welcome, young man ; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun, and well begot; And after, every of this happy number, [us, That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their 'states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, And fall into our rustic revelryPlay, music and you brides and bridegrooms all, [fall. With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures

Jaques.

To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.You [To Duke, Senior] to your former honour I bequeath; [it:

Your patience, and your virtue, well deserve You [To Orlando] to a love, that your true faith doth merit[great allies:You [To Oliver] to your land, and love, and You To Silvius] to a long and well deserved bed:[thy loving voyage And you [To Touchstone] to wrangling; for Is but for two months victuall'd.-So, to your pleasures:

I am for other than for dancing measures.

It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis 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 furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me:

SCENE 1. Before an Alehouse on a Heath.
Enter Hostess and Sly.
Sly

I'LL pheese you, in faith.

Hostess.

A pair of stocks, you rogue.

Sly.

Y'are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa!

Hostess.

Wind Horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with
Huntsmen and Servants.

Lord.

Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:

Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd
brach.

Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Huntsman.

Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:

You will not pay for the glasses you have Trust me, I take him for the better dog. burst?

Sly.

Lord.

'Tis very true: thou did'st it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time, The rather for I have some sport in hand,

It would seem strange unto him when he Wherein your cunning can assist me much. wak'd.

Lord.

Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest.
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures;
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say, what is it your honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say,-will't please your lordship cool your
Some one be ready with a costly suit, [hands?
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease.
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic;
And, when he says he is, say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs:
It will be pastime passing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modesty.

1 Huntsman.

There is a lord will hear you play to-night;
But I am doubtful of your modesties,
Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a play,)
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile he grows impatient.

And call him madam, do him obeisance:
Tell him from me, as he will win my love,
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords by them accomplished:
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And say,-what is't your honour will command,

My lord, I warrant you, we will play our part, Wherein your lady, and your humble wife
As he shall think, by our true diligence,

He is no less than what we say he is.

Lord.

Take him up gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes.

[Sly is borne out. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :[Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.Re-cuter Servant.

How now? who is it?

Servant.

An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship.

Lord.

Bid them come near.

Enter Players.

May show her duty, and make known her love?
And then, with kind embracements, tempting

kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To see her noble lord restor'd to health,
Who for this seven years hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift,
Which, in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst :
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.

[Exit Sereant.

I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselves from
laughter,

When they do homage to this simple peasant.

Now, fellows, you are welcome. I'll in to counsel them: haply, my presence

May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.
[Exeunt.
SCENE

SCENE II. A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. Sly is discovered, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and appurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like a Servant. Sly.

For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

1 Servant.

2 Servant.

Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee
Adonis painted by a running brook, [straight
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her
breath,

Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord.

We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,

Will't please your lordship drink a cup of And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,

sack?

2 Servant Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? 3 Servant.

What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly.

I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour, nor lordship: I'ne'er drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef. Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometime, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.

Lord.

ment,

And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck:

Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plasic.

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:

Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride, thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will

As lively painted as the deed was done. 3 Servant.

Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds;

And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord.

Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady, far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
1 Servant.

And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly.

Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

[Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd!

O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream, Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. Sly.

These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? 1 Servant.

O! yes, my lord, but very idle words; For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door, And rail upon the hostess of the house, And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts.

Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly.

Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 3 Servant.

Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid,

Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,-
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: With a Glossary