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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.

[Asiile. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy !

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. 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 ?

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, 8c.] Rascal deer were lean deer.—Compare Othella, iii. 3, • 'Tis the plague of great ones,' &c.

1 for your

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.

Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t: how do you, sir ? You are very well met: God 'ild you last

company. I am very glad to see you.—Even a toy 2 in hand here, sir.—Nay, pray be covered.

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, 4

O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee ;

i God 'ild you] God yield you, or reward you. A customary ex. pression of gratitude in old times.

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,

Begone, I say,
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.

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.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips 2 of Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?

The dissembling colour] That of Judas's ir: yellow. 2 Cast lips] • Chaste,' the reading of the second folio, was, no dJubt, the intended meaning: Lat. castus ; Ital. casto.

Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Ros. Do

you

think so ? Cel. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horsestealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave 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.
Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was.

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,4 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,

· Concave] Hollow.
? 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.

Well, and what of him?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Ros.

O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:
Bring us to see this sight, and you

shall

say I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

[Ea eunt.

SCENE V.-Another part of the Forest.

Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE,

Say that

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe :

you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck But first begs pardon : will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and Corin, behind.
Phe. I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and probable, that eyes,-
That are the frailest and the softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies—
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers !
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;

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