Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! [Aside. Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts.2 But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said-Many a man knows no end of his goods: right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? ever to poor men alone?-No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal.3 Is the single man therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver. Enter Sir OLIVER MARTEXT. -Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: Will you despatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? 1 Sir Oliver Martext] The title Sir was given to clergymen; that of Master specially to those who had taken the degree of M.A. 2 Horn-beasts] The allusion is to the horns of a cuckold. 3 The noblest deer, &c.] Rascal deer were lean deer.-Compare Othello, iii. 3, 'Tis the plague of great ones,' &c. Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her. 1 Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't: how do you, sir? You are very well met: God 'ild you for your company. I am very glad to see you.-Even a toy 2 in hand here, sir.-Nay, pray be covered. last Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Touch. As the ox hath his bow,3 sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. Jaq. 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 priest 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 shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp. Touch. 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 excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. [Aside. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey; we must be married. Farewell, good master Oliver!—not— O sweet Oliver,1 O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee; 1 God 'ild you] God yield you, or reward you. A customary ex pression of gratitude in old times. 2 A toy] A trifling matter. His bow] His curved yoke. O sweet Oliver, &c.] This is a fragment of an old ballad. but, Wind away, I will not to wedding with thee. [Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY. Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit. SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Before a Cottage. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep. Cel. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. Ros. But have I not cause to weep. Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.1 Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. Ros. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. Cel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. 2 Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the ice of chastity is in them. very Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? The dissembling colour] That of Judas's hair: yellow. 2 Cast lips] Chaste,' the reading of the second folio, was, no doubt, the intended meaning: Lat. castus; Ital. casto. Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horsestealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave1 as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in. Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed, and let me go. But what talk we 2 of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O, that's a brave man! 3 He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff 5 like a noble goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides.-Who comes here? Enter CORIN. Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired After the shepherd that complained of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 1 Concave] Hollow. 2 What talk we] Why talk we?-See note 3, p. 4. 3 A brave man] A fine fellow. Quite traverse] Right across. His staff] His lance. 'Look that my staves be sound.'-- K. Richard III., v. 3. Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. Cel. Cor. If Well, and what of him? f you will see a pageant truly played, Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, Ros. SCENE V. Another part of the Forest. Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE. [Es eunt. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: Say that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes hard, But first begs pardon: will you sterner be Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind. |
