SCENE IV-Another part of the Forest. Enter Touch. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the and Celia. country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; acDuke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy cording as marriage binds, and blood breaks:-A Can do all this that he hath promised?

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.

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well cut?

Touch. I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted.

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

You and you no cross shall part:

[To Orlando and Rosalind. You and you are heart in heart:

[To Oliver and Celia.
You [To Phebe.] to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord :-
You and you are sure together,

[To Touchstone and Audrey.

As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
SONG.

Wedding is great Juno's crown;

O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured;
Honour, high honour and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town!

Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me;

Enter Jaques de Bois.

[To Silvius.

Touch. 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 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the fifth, Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.3 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. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind in woman's clothes; and Celia. Still music.

Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together.

Good duke, receive thy daughter,
Hymen from heaven brought her,

Yea, brought her hither;

That thou might'st join her hand with his, Whose heart within her bosom is. Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Duke S. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Orl. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.

Phe. If sight and shape be true,

Why then, my love, adieu!

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he :-
[To Duke S.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he:-
[To Orlando.
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
[To Phebe.

Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion :
'Tis I must make conclusion

Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.

(1) Seemly. (2) Unless truth fails of veracity.

I

Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or
two;

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 S.

Welcome, young man ;
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding:
To one, his lands withheld; and to the other,
A land itself as 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,
That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us,
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 revelry:-

Play, music;-and you brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience; If I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life,
And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.—
You to your former honour I bequeath;

[To Duke S. Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :You [To Orlando.] to a love, that your true faith doth merit:

(3) Bind.

You [To Oliver.] to your land, and love, and great not become me; my way is, to conjure you; and
allies:-
I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women,
You [To Silvius.] to a long and well-deserved for the love you bear to men, to like as much of

bed:

this play as please them: and so I charge you, O

And you [To Touchstone.] to wrangling; for thy men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive

loving voyage

by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that

Is but for two months victuall'd:-So to your plea-between you and the women, the play may please.

sures;

I am for other than for dancing measures.
Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaq. To see no pastime, I:-what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.

[Exit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,

And we do trust they'll end in true delights.

EPILOGUE.

[A dance.

If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you
as had beards that pleased me, complexions that
liked me, and breaths that I defied not; and, I am
sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces,
or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I
make curt'sy, bid me farewell.
[Exeunt.

Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epi- their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven, for logue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the heroism of her friendship. The character of the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver bushes; and good plays prove the better by the part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insi- dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and nuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson, in not furnished' like a beggar, therefore to beg will which he might have found matter worthy of his highest powers.

(1) Dressed.

(2) That I liked.

JOHNSON.

Parolles, a follower of Bertram.

Diana, daughter to the widow.
Violenta,

}

Several young French Lords, that serve with Ber- Mariana, neighbours and friends to the widow.

Steward,}

Clown, A Page.

tram in the Florentine war.

servants to the Countess of Rousillon.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, in mourning.

Countess.

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c. French and Florentine.

Scene, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where

IN delivering my son from me, I bury a second an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there

husband.

commendations go with pity, they are virtues and Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my traitors too; in her they are the better for their father's death anew: but I must attend his majes- simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves ty's command, to whom I am now in ward,' ever- her goodness. more in subjection. Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, ma- her tears. dam-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue her praise in. The remembrance of her father to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such sorrows takes all livelihoods from her cheek. No abundance. more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lets it be Count. What hope is there of his majesty's rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it

amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time

too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the with hope; and finds no other advantage in the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father (0, that had ! how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease. Laf. How called you the man you speak of,

madam?

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed
thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourn- That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck ingly he was skilful enough to have lived still, if down,

:

knowledge could be set up against mortality. Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,
Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lan-Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
guishes of?
Laf. A fistula, my lord.

(1) Under his particular care, as my guardian.

(4) i. e. Her excellencies are the better because

(2) The countess recollects her own loss of a they are artless. husband, and observes how heavily had passes through her mind.

(3) Qualities of good breeding and erudition.

(5) All appearance of life.

(6) i. e. That may help thee with more and bet Iter qualifications.

That shall attend his love. Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir[Exit Countess. ginity, is to accuse your mothers: which is most Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is thoughts, [To Helena.] be servants to you! Bela virgin: virginity murders itself; and should be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the
credit of your father. [Exe. Bertram and Lafeu.
Hel. O, were that all !-I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:4
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter Parolles.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,

That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind; withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.

Hel. And you, monárch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us Some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it.

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

(1) i. e. May you be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect.

(2) Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his resemblance was portrayed.

(3) Peculiarity of feature. (4) Countenance.

a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't; Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: Away with't.

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. "Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtjer, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not now: Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall:-God send him well!-
The court's a learning-place;-and he is one-
Par. What one, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt: that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think;" which never
Returns us thanks.