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should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment:5 if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship!

[Exit.

Oli. Farewel, good Charles.-Now will I stir
this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; 10
for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing
more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd,
and yet learn'd; full of noble device; of all sorts
enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in
the heart of the world, and especially of my own 15
people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler
shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle
the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.
SCENE II.

An open walk before the Duke's palace.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.

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Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 25 merry.

Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banish'd father, you must not learn me how to remember 30 any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I see, thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could 35 have taught my love to take thy father for mine ;| so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.

40

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and 45 when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be

merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports: let me see; What think you of falling in 50 love?

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Ros. What shall be our sport then?

Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.

Enter Touchstone, a clown.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire? Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortume, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for na❤ ture, when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

Cel. Peradventure this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you?

Clo. Mistress you must come away to your father,
Cel. Were you made the messenger?
Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to
come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. Ofacertain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was the knight forsworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap o your knowledge?

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Clo. Stand you both forth now; stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.

Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn; no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is it that thou mean'st?
Clo. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him:
Enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd
for taxation, one of these days.

Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true; for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenc'd, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Enter Le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 55 their young.

Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits 60 are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she makes fair,| she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

65

Q

Ros. Then shall we be news-cranım'd.

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur le Beau; what's the news?

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

Cel. Sport? of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I Janswer vou?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the destinies decree.

C. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel'.
Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amaze me2, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Kos. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

5

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; to 10 the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.

Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three i5

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Orla. I attend them with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

Orla. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

C. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the rear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this 20 attempt.

Le Brau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, 25 that there is little hope of life in him: so he serv'd the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitifu dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Ros. Aius!

Clo. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

L Beau. Why this, that I speak of.

Ros. Do, young sir: your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. Orla. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts: wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was never gracious; if kiild, but 30 one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.

Clo. Thus men may grow wiser every day! It 35 is the first time that ever I heard, breaking of ribs was spot for ladies.

Ce. Or I, I promise thee.

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken musick in his sides? is there yet another dotes 40 upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now stay and see it.

Flourish Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and attendants.

45

Duke. Come on: since the youth will not be 50 entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le eau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.

Duke. How now, daughter and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

55

Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of 60 the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him,

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Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orla. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg! [They wrestle.

Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Shout.

Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke. How dost thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.

A proverbial xpression implying a glaring falshood.

Amaze here signifies to confuse, so as to

put him out of the intended narrative. i. e. bills accepting of the challenge given by Charles, the Duke's wrestler.

Duke

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

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

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

enemy.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine
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?
Orla. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son; and would not change that
To be adopted heir to Frederick. [calling,

Ros. My tather 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.

Cl. 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,

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15

20

25

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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.
[Exits
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!

SCENE III.

An apartment in the Palace.

Enter Celia and Rosalind.

[Exits

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid 30have 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. Orla. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Eup, 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:

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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 ate 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.

50

poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Le Beau. Goodsir, I do infriendship counsel you 55 To leave this place: Abeit you have deserved High commendation, true applause, and love; Yet such is now the duke's condition', That he misconstrues all that you have done. The duke is humourous; what he is indeed, More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of

160

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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 quintains remained. i. e. character, disposition.

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should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly': : yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?

Enter Duke, with lords.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
I cannot live out of her company.
[liege;
Duke. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide
yourself;

5 If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
[Exeunt Duke, &c.

Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love
him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger. [haste,
Duke. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest 101
And get you from our court.

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.

:

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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 dake
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.
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,
Tobear 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?

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traiTell me, whereon the likelihood depends. [tor: 30 Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's

enough.

[dom;
Ros. So was I, when your highness took his duke-
So 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'd 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

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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,
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 maunish 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 inade 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,

bullying outside,

i. e. a noisy,

*ACT

SCENE I.

The Forest of Arden.

ACT II.

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

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

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

say,

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"Tis right," quoth he;" thus misery doth part "The flux of company :” Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 10 And never stays to greet him; "Ay,"quoth Jaques, "Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; "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?

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
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 dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines, with forked heads 2
Have their round haunches gor'd.

1 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?

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30

[ing 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commentUpon the sobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

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.

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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,

I 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

4

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 faint.

2

SCENE

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