are well met: Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or fhall we go with you to your chapel ? Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? Sir Oli. Truly, fhe must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her. Clo. Good even, good mafter What ye call: How do you, fir? You are very well met : Goď'ild you for your laft company : I am very glad to see you :-Even a toy in hand, here, fir: Nay: pray be covered. Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Clo. As the ox hath his bow, fir, the horfe his curb, and the faulcon his bells, so man hath his defire; and as pigeons bill, fo wedlock would be nibbling. Faq. 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 prieft 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 fhrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Clo. 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 excufe for me hereafter to leave my wife. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.-- Not-O fweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee ;[8] But-Wend away, Begone, I fay, I will not to wedding with thee. Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exeunt. demical ftyle, called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore termed Sir. This was not always a word of contempt; the graduates af fumed it in their own writings; fo Trevifa the hiftorian writes himself Syr John de Trevifa. JOHNS. [8] Some words of an old ballad. WARB. SCENE IV. A Cottage in the Foreft. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.. Rof. Never talk to me, I will weep. Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to confider, that tears do not become a man. Rof. But have I not cause to weep ? Cel. As good caufe as one would defire; therefore weep. Rof. His very hair is of the diffembling colour. Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his kiffes are Judas's own children. Rof. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.[9] Gel. An excellent colour: your chefnut was ever the only colour. Rof. And his kiffing is as full of fanctity as the touch of holy beard.[1] Cel. He hath bought a pair of caft lips of Diana: a nun of winter's fifterhood kiffes not more religiously ;[2] the very ice of chastity is in them. Rof. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not ? Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. Cel. Yes I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horfeftealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet,[3] or a worm-eaten nut. Rof. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think, he is not in. Rof. You have heard him fwear downright, he was. Cel. Was, is not is; befides, the oath of a lover is no ftronger than the word of a tapfter they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here in the foreft on the duke your father. [9] There is much of nature in this petty perverfenefs of Rofalind; The finds faults in her lover, in hope to be contradicted, and when Celia in fportive malice too readily feconds her accufations, fhe contradicts herself' rather than fuffer her favourite to want a vindication. JOHNS. [1] That is, as the kifs of an holy faint or hermit, called the 'kifs of charity. WARB. [2] This is finely expreffed. Shakespeare means 'an unfruitful fifterhood,' which had devoted itself to chattity. For as thofe who were of the fifterhood of the fpring were the votaries of Venus; thofe of fummer, the votaries of Ceres; thofe of autumn, of Pomona; fo thefe of the 'fifterhood of winter' were the votaries of Diana: called, 'of winter,' because that quarter is not, like the other three, productive of fruit or increase. WARB. [3] Why a cover'd? Because a goblet is never kept cover'd but when empty. Shakespeare never throws out his expreffions at random. WARB. Rof. I met the duke yefterday, and had much question with him: He afked me, of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he: fò he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ? Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover ;[4] as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but one fide, breaks his staff like a noble goofe: but all's brave that youth mounts, and folly guides -Who comes here? Enter CORIN. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquir'd Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly play'd, Rof. Come, let us remove; The fight of lovers feedeth those in love :— SCENE V. [Exeunt. Another part of the Foreft. Enter SYLVIUS and PHEBE. Syl. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe : Say that you love me not; but fay not fo [4] An unexperienced lover is here compared to a 'puny tilter,' to whom it was a difgrace to have his lance broken acrofs, as it was a mark either of want of courage or addrefs. This happened when the horfe flew on one fide, in the carcer: and hence, I fuppofe, arofe the jocular proverbial phrase of purring the horie only on one fide. Now as breaking the lance against his adverfary's breat, in a direct line, was honourable, fo the breaking it 'acrofs' againft his breaft was, for the reafon above, difhonourable. This is the allufion. So that Orlando, a young gallant, affecting the fashion (for 'brave' is here ufed, as in other places, for fafhionable) is represented either unfkilfu' in courtship, or timorous. The lover's meeting or appointment correfponds to the tilter's career; and as the one breaks ftaves, the other breaks oaths. WARD. In bitterness: The common executioner, Whose heart the accustomed fight of death makes hard, Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. I would not be thy executioner ; That eyes, that are the frail'st and softeft things,, And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee: The cicatrice[5] and capable impreffure Thy palm fome moments keeps but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; Nor, I am-fure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Syl. O, dear Phebe, If ever (as that ever may be near) You meet in fome fresh cheek the power of fancy, That love's keen arrows make.. Phe. But till that time, Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes,, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ;. As, till that time, I fhall not pity thee. Rof. And why, I pray you?-Who might be your mother,[6] That you infult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have beauty, [5] Cicatrice is here not very properly used; it is the scar of a wound. "Capable impreffure arrows mark.' JOHNS. [6] It is common for the poets to express cruelty by faying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or fuckled by tigrelles. JOINS. (As, by my faith, I fee no more in you, Rof. [Afide.] He's fallen in love with her foulnefs, and fhe'll fall in love with my anger :-If it be so, as faft as The answers thee with frowning looks, I'll fauce her with bitter words.-Why look you so upon me? Phe. For no ill-will I bear you. Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falfer than vows made in wine : Befides, I like you not. If you will know my house, [7] i. e. Thofe works which nature makes up carelessly and with out exactnefs. The allufion is to the practice of mechanics, whofe work befpoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance cuftomers, or to fell in quantities to retailers, which is called 'fale-work.' WARB. |