Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?

Orta. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would thou had'st been son to some 5 man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy ·
Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this
Hadst thou descended from another house. [deed,
But fare thee well: thou art a gallant youth;
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exit Duke, with his train.
Manent Celia, Rosalind, Orlando.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Grla. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son,
Ilis youngest son-and would not change that
To be adopted heir to Frederick. [calling,

Ros. My father lov'd sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur❜d.

Cel. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him:
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd:
If you do keep your promises in love,

But justly as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Ros. Gentleman,

10

15

20

25

[blocks in formation]

Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling?

[manners;

Le Beau. Neither is daughter, if we judge by
But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake:
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well!
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
[Exit.
Orla. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother:—
But, heavenly Rosalind !

[blocks in formation]

[Exit.

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid 30 have mercy!-Not a word?

[Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune; That could give more, but that her hand lacks Shall we go, coz ? [means. 35 Cel. Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orlu. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts [up, Are all thrown down; and that which here stands Is but a quintaine', a mere lifeless block.

Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my fortunes:

I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, sir?-| Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than your enemies.

Cl. Will you go, coz?

Ros. Have with you :-Fare you well. [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Orla. What passion hangs these weights upon

my tongue?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

Enter Le Beau.

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me ; come, lame me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ros. No, some of it is for my child's father: 40 Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these 45 burs are in my heart.

150

[blocks in formation]

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try; if I could cry, hem, and have him.

Cela Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despight of a fall.-But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good carnest : Is it possible on such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old sir Rowland's young est son?

Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly,

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I

The quintaine was a stake driven into a field, upon which were hung a shield and other trophies of war, at which they shot, darted, or rode with a lance. When the shield and the trophies were all thrown down, the quintaine remained. i. e. character, disposition.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Ros. Me, uncle? Duke. You, cousin.

Within these ten days, if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros. I do beseech your grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with my own desires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
(As I do trust I am not) then, dear uncle,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke. Thus do all traitors;
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:--
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.

13

Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not.

[love

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No; let my father seek another heir. 20 Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us: And do not seek to take your change upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrow's pale, 25 Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

[tor: 30

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traiTell me, whereon the likelihood depends. Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough. [dom;

Ros. So was I, when your highness took his dukeSo was I, when your highness banish'd him : Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What's that to me? my father was no traitor : Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, To think my poverty is treacherous.

35

[sake, 40

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke. Ay, Celia; we but stay her for your Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Col. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Why, so am I: we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Duke. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more

[blocks in formation]

145

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber smirch my face:
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Ros. Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh,

2

A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashing 'and a martial outside;
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a
man?
[page;

Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own
And therefore look you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;

50 No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; 55 Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together: Devise the fittest time, and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: Now go we in content; 60 To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.

Dear has the double meaning in Shakspeare of beloved, as well as of hurtful, hated, baleful; when applied in the latter sense, however, it ought to be spelt dere. i. e. a broad-sword. i. e, a noisy, bullying outside.

ACT

SCENE I.

The Forest of Arden.

ACT II.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three
Lords like Foresters.

66

1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similies. First for his weeping in the needless stream; "Poor deer," quoth he, “thou makʼst a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 5To that which had too much" Then, being Left and abandoned of his velvet friends; [alone, "Tis right," quoth he;" thus misery doth part The flux of company:" Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, Are not these 10 And never stays to greet him; "Ay,"quoth Jaques, "Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;

Duke Sen. NOW, my co-mates, and brothers
in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp?

woods

Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?" Thus most invectively he pierceth through 15The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, To fright the animals, and to kill them up, In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contemplation? [ing 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commentUpon the sobbing deer.

More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference; as the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,-
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head 1:
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. [grace, 25
Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile.

Duke Sen. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me, the poor dappied fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines, with forked heads 2
Have their round haunches gor'd.

Lord. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke Sen. But what said Jaques ?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

20

30

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

3

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.
Duke. Can it be possible, that no man saw them?
It cannot be some villains of my court

35 Are of consent and sufferance in this.

1 Lord, I cannot hear of any that did see her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early,
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
40 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom
so oft

Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard

45 Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler

50

That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.

[ther;

Duke. Send to his brother; fetch that gallaut hi-
If he be absent, bring his brother to me.

I'll make him find him: do this suddenly;
And let not search and inquisition quail

To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt.

'This alludes to an opinion then prevalent, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a stone, or pearl, to which great virtues were ascribed. This stone has been often sought, but never found. Meaning, with arrows. That is, encounter him. i. e. scurvy, mangy. To quail is to jainț.

2

SCENE

SCENE III.

Oliver's House.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orla. Who's there? [tle master, Adam. What! my young master!-Oh, my genOh, my sweet master, O you memory1

I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

[appears

Orla. Oh, good old man! how well in thee
The constant service of the antique world,
5 When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion ;
And having that, do choak their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee,
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
15 We'll light upon some settled low content.

Of old sir Rowland! why, what makes you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant: 10
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony priser of the humourous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men,
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

Orla. Why, what's the matter?
Adum. O unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son-
Yet not the son;-I will not call him son-
Of him I was about to call his father)
Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
To burn the lodgings where you used to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off:

I overheard him, and his practices.

[blocks in formation]

Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty..
From seventeen years till now almost tourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.

20 At seventeen years many their fortunes scek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:

25

30

35

Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. [Ere,
SCENE

IV.

[blocks in formation]

Ros. I could find in my heart to di-grace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to shew itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no 40further.

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
1 rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted 'blood, and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns, 45
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that: and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;

[blocks in formation]

50

55

Cio. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross“, if Į did bear you; for I think you have no money in your purse.

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Clo. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers mu t be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk.

Enter Corin and Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knewest how I do love her! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess; Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover, As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: But if thy love were ever like to mine, sure I think did never man love so)

(As

2 Place here means a mansion or residence. That is, blood Having here means possession. A cross was a piece of money

[ocr errors]

How

How many actions most ridiculous

Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten,
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd:-O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit Silvius.

5

By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. What is he, that shall buy his flock and
pasture?

Cor. That young swain, that you saw here but
erewhile,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 10 Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, 15 I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Clo. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and b'd him take that for coming o'nights to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her battlet', and the 20 cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; and from whom I took two cods', and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, that are true 25 lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. Clo. Nay, I shall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it.

Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

Clo. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

30

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon man, 35 If he for gold will give us any food;

I faint almost to death.

Clo. Holla; you, clown!

Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls?

Clo. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else they are very wretched.
Ros. Peace, I say:-Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold,
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed:
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for succour.

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,

And wish for her sake, more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am shepherd to another man,

And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality:

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale; and at our sheep-cote now,

Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold:
Go with me; if you like, upon report,
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.[Exeunt.
SCENE V.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
SONG.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs: More, pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is rugged; I know I cannot please you.

40 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call you 'em stanzas?

45

Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing?

[self.

Ami. More at your request than to please myJaq. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call complaent, is like the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man 50 thanks me neartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the song.-Sirs, cover the 55 while; the duke will drink under this tree :-he hath been all this day to look you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as ne; but I give heaven 2 Peascods is a term 'That is, abundant in folly..

1 An instrument with which washer-women beat their coarse clothes.

still in use in Staffordshire for peas as they are brought to market.

In some counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is still used as a particle of aplication as mortal tall, mortal little.

thanks,

« ZurückWeiter »