^ V ^^ o. A ^ X -e. s^^ -^^'Zs'cO .\^' f\ "^ "^^ v^" ^\.../?'^- >> ,~-f^N ^ ' ^, ^ ■-<; « ' ^^ : ^ ^ I (, <, \ -^A V 1 1^ <^ A '< ^* ,,c5^^. -9 -3^, ^ ^^^ ""^ '/ ,f^' A ;^.> -\' O'S .0- * . \' .^^^' ^^. ° ^^' mXVi^ " . >v> ^ .A^ ^^ if:-^ m2>w> Mo3 ^ 1 t S' A I Copyright, 1903, by WILLIAM J. ROLFE. AS YOU LIKE IT. w. p. I (, :" ^ *' o • ^ » PREFACE This edition of As You Like It -Was first published in 1877. As now revised it is substantially a new edition on the same general plan as the revised Merchant of Venice and Julius Ccesar which have preceded it. The greater part of the notes on textual variations have been either omitted or abridged. This play, with most of the others now read in schools and colleges, is now among the twelve plays that Dr. Furness has edited. No teacher can afford to do without his ency- clopedic volumes, in which all the readings and notes of the early and the standard modern editions are epitomized, together with large extracts from the best commentators and much admirable criticism by Dr. Furness himself. His edition is, in fact, a condensed library of the literature relating to the play, giving in compact and inexpensive form a vast amount of valuable matter, much of which would otherwise be inaccessible to the great majority of teachers and students. I have also omitted most of the "Critical Comments" from the introduction, as the books from which they were taken are now to be found in public and school libraries. For these extracts I have substituted familiar comments of my own, and have added more of the same kind in the Appendix. A concise account of Shakespeare's metre has also been inserted as an intro- duction to the Notes. 6 Preface Minor changes have been made throughout the Notes. Some have been abridged, some have been expanded, and new ones have been added, including a considerable number in place of those referring to my editions of other plays. The book is now absolutely complete in itself. I believe that teachers will prefer the new edition to the old one ; but both can be used, without serious inconvenience, in the same class or club. CONTENTS PAGE Introduction to As You Like It ..... 9 The History of the Play 9 The Sources of the Plot il General Comments on the Play . . . . - ii As You Like It , ... 23 Act I 25 Act II 49 Act III 72 Act IV loi Act V 117 Notes 139 Appendix . 252 Comments on Some of the Characters .... 252 The " Moral " of the Play 266 Blue Eyes and Other in Shakespeare .... 268 The Time-Analysis of the Play ..... 274 List of Characters in the Play ..... 276 Index of Words and Phrases Explained . . . 279 7 Oliver (Act IV. Scene 3) The Forest of Arden INTRODUCTION TO AS YOU LIKE IT The History of the Play As You Like It was first printed, so far as we know, in the folio of 1623. The earliest notice of it by name is found in the Registers of the Stationers' Company, on a leaf which does not belong to the regular records, but contains miscellaneous entries, notes, etc. Between two of these, the one dated in May, 1600, and the other in June, 1603, occurs the following memorandum : ^ — 1 We print this as Wright gives it. In Halliwell-Phillipps's folio ed. it appears thus : — 9 lo As You Like It 4. August! As you like yt / a booke Henry the ffift / a booke Euery man in his humour / a booke The commedie of muche A doo about nothing a booke / ► to be staied. All these " books " are stated to be " my lord chamber- lens menns plaies," which confirms the opinion that the entry refers to the year 1600. Henry V, and Much Ado About Nothing were duly Ucensed (the former on the 14th and the latter on the 23d of August) and published that year ; and it is not Hkely that the plays would have been " staied " after the pubhcation of two of them. The prohibition was probably removed soon after it was re- corded ; and the clerk may not have considered it worth the formahty of a note in the body of the register. On the other hand, As Yott Like It is not mentioned by Meres in his enumeration of Shakespeare's plays in Palladis Taniia, which was pubHshed in Septem- ber, 1598; and it contains a quotation (iii. 5. 80) from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, the earliest known edition 4 Augusti. As you like yt, a book. Henry the ffift, a book. ^ Every man in his humor, a book. The Commedie of j-To be staied. Much Adoo about nothinge, a book. J Collier gives it twice (in the introductions to Muck Ado and A. Y. L.) , but the versions do not agree with each other or with either of the above. The matter is of little importance, and we refer to it only as illustrating one of the minor trials of an editor who cannot refer to original docu- ments, but has to depend on copies made by others. Introduction ii of which appeared in the same year. It may therefore be reasonably concluded, as nearly all the commentators agree, that As You Like It was written between Septem- ber, 1598, and August, 1600; probably in the year 1599. The Sources of the Plot Shakespeare was chiefly indebted for the story of the| play to a novel by Thomas Lodge, published in 159a under the title of " Rosalynde, Euphues Golden Legacie,] found after his death in his Cell at Silexedra, bequeathed! to Philautus sonnes noursed up with their father in Eng- land, Fetcht from the Canaries by T. L., gent.. Imprinted by T. Orwin for T. G. and John Busbie, 1590." This book was reprinted in 1592, and eight editions are known to have appeared before 1643. How closely the poet followed the novel may be seen by the extracts from the latter printed in the Notes below. Lodge took some of the main incidents of his novel from The Cokes Tale of Gainelyn, which is found in a few of the later manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, but which the best editors of that poet believe to be the production of another writer. General Comments on the Play "The sweetest and happiest of Shakespeare's come- dies," as a genial and appreciative critic calls it ! It is one of that group of plays written at about the same time 12 As You Like It — probably in immediate succession, though we cannot say in what order — which another critic terms ^^ the three sunny or sweet-time comedies," the others being Much Ado and Twelfth Night. For myself, I hke to think of it as the first of the three, written when the author had just completed the series of English histori- cal plays (not counting Henry VIII., which came ten or more years later), and perhaps as a rest for his imagina- tion, — the recreation that is gained by taking up a wholly diiferent kind of Hterary work. The poet escaped for a season from camps and courts, and took a delight- ful vacation in the Forest of Arden. History was for the time forgotten, and free scope was given to imagination amid the scenes of a purely ideal life, — an Arcadia where they " fleet the time carelessly, as they "did in the golden world." The result is a pastoral drama in which we have almost unbroken sunshine, no more of shadow being in- troduced than serves to give variety to the scene. It is not the shadow that forebodes the coming of night or of tempest, but rather hke that of the passing summer cloud, or like that of the green canopy of a pleasant wood, fall- ing, flecked with sunlight sifted through the leaves, upon the velvet sward below. No one suffers seriously or for any great length of time. The banished Duke is only the happier for his exile, and exults in his freedom from the artificial restraints of the court ; and in the end he is restored to his rank and position. His banishment has proved only a summer vacation, a rural " outing," and we cannot doubt that he enjoyed his dukedom all Introduction 13 the more for his brief exemption from its formalities and responsibihties. In like manner Rosalind, Celia, and the rest, who are made temporarily uncomfortable by the banishment of the Duke and other causes, soon forget their troubles in the forest, and are all happy at last. Some careful critic has found fault with Rosalind be- cause she goes to seek her father in the forest, and then apparently forgets all about him after she gets there. But this is only another illustration of the careless, free- and-easy character of the play. Nobody could be long anxious in that Forest of Arden. No matter what cares and troubles one brought thither, these soon vanished and were forgotten in the enchanted atmosphere. Things might not be entirely to one's mind at first, but one felt that they must soon become " as you like it." And this reminds me of the dispute as to the origin and significance of the title of the play. It may have been suggested, as some have supposed, by the preface to Lodge's novel of Rosalynde, to which the poet was indebted for his plot. Lodge says to his readers con- cerning the novel, '' If you like it, so," — that is, "so be it," or " well and good." The German critic Tieck fan- cied that the title was meant as a reply to Ben Jonson's criticisms on the loose and irregular style of Shakespeare's comedy. Ben was a scholar, and believed in the classi- cal rules for dramatic composition. The free-and-easy methods of his brother playwright were rank heterodoxy in his eyes, and he could not help sometimes expressing his righteous horror at them. In the preface to Cynthia's 14 As You Like It Revels he had said of his own play, " 'T is good, and if you like it you may ; " and Tieck beheved that this sug- gested to Shakespeare the title for As You Like It ; as if he had said, " Well, here is another of my careless come- dies : take it as yoiL like itJ'^ But it does not seem to me at all probable that Shakespeare would select the name for a play solely or mainly to indulge in a little hit at another author — and a hit that would not be readily un- derstood without an explanation. Whatever may have suggested the title, — and, as I have said, it may have been Lodge's preface, — I have no doubt that it was adopted as fitly expressing the tone and temper of the play. This is the view of another German critic, Ulrici, who, in summing up his argument, says : " In fact all [the characters] do exactly what and as they please. . . . Each looks upon and shapes life as it pleases him or her. ... It is the poetic reflex of a life as you like it, light and smooth in its flow, unencum- bered by serious tasks, free from the fetters of definite objects and from intentions difficult to execute ; an amusing play of caprice, of imagination, and of waver- ing sensations and feelings." Charles Lamb called Lovers Labour's Lost " the com- edy of leisure " ; but, as Verplanck remarks, " he might have given the title in a higher sense to As Yoti Like It, where the pervading feeling is that of a refined and tasteful, yet simple and unaffected, throwing-off of the stiff Mendings' of artificial society." For myself, I would call it the summer vacation comedy. As I have Introduction 17 Professor Barrett Wendell, that it is "childish and absurd"; and yet, as he adds, "it has been for three hundred years the groundwork of perhaps the most con- stantly dehghtful and popular comedy in the English language." This is partly due to the subtle influence of the "charmed air" of that Forest of Arden, in which we forget to be critical. We can sympathize with the poet Campbell, who, when he first detected some of the incongruities in this play, after having been blind to them for many years, shut his eyes to the faults because of his love for the comedy — and love, as* he said, is " wilfully blind." "Away with your best-proved improbabilities when the heart has been touched and the fancy fasci- nated ! " But it was not the scene and the atmosphere alone that made him — that make us — love the play, but the fact that the leading characters are not mere puppets, as we might expect them to be in so crude a story, but living men and women. We cannot help lov- ing them, and following their experiences with the keen- est interest and sympathy. Shakespeare's characters, indeed, become so real to us that we keep up our interest in them after the curtain has fallen upon their fortunes. We speculate concern- ing their subsequent behaviour and welfare, and dispute about their probable fate. We even enjoy going back of the beginning of the drama, as Mary Cowden-Clarke has done in her Girlhood of Shakespeare'' s Heroines, and Lady Martin in some of her dehghtful studies of the characters she had personated. The questions suggested AS YOU LIKE IT — 2 1 8 As You Like It by the unwritten history of these shadowy folk, these phantoms of a poet's brain, whom we have seen for an hour or two on the stage, have a perennial fascination. We can never settle them, but we never tire of pondering and discussing them. The metre of As You Like It is that of Shakespeare's best period in that respect. In his earliest plays the verse, though often exquisitely modulated, is sometimes laboured and formal. He had not then mastered the art of concealing the art. In his last plays, on the other hand, he seems to f*eel a certain contempt for the rules of versification, and refuses to be restrained by them. There are long passages in The Tempest and The Wintei^s Tale which, if we heard them read without knowing their source, we might take to be plain prose. At the same time it must be admitted that some of the poet's finest ver- sification is to be found here and there in these late plays. But in As You Like It, as in other plays of the same period, — about the middle of the poet's career as a writer, — we have the utmost perfection of blank verse ; at once finished and flowing, artistically musical, yet seeming to " sing itself," — the art of the accomplished minstrel, while it impresses us as the artlessness of the lark or the nightingale. This play also contains what, to my thinking, is the best example of musical variation in repeating the same thought or sentiment to be found anywhere in Shake- speare. It is where (ii. 7) Orlando, in his address to the Duke, says : — Introduction i^ " If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, And know what 't is to pity and be pitied," etc. It would seem that this could hardly be altered with- out marring it ; but, faultless as it is, Shakespeare shows that he can repeat it "' with a difference," yet with no diminution of its beauty or its music. The Duke re- plies : — ■ " True is it that we have seen better days, And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church, And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd," etc. Every statement is varied, while the leading words are retained ; and the variation is like that of some exquisite theme in music, repeated, yet not the same, but as sweet as before. One finds scattered examples of this fine modulation of melodious verse in the plays and poems, but no one that equals this. This play is also a good illustration of Shakespeare's art in the management of dramatic time. Only two of his plays, The Comedy of Errors and The Tempest, observe the "unities of time and place," which require that the time of the action represented shall not exceed a single day, and that the place shall be limited either to a single locality, or to localities so near that the persons con- cerned can pass from one to another within the day. In most of Shakespeare's plays the time of the action covers 20 As You Like It several days, months, or years ; and the localities are often widely separated — England and France, Bohemia and Sicily, etc. But though Shakespeare thus ignores the classical law concerning time, he follows what may be called an artis- tic law of his own in dealing with time, which was not recognized by any of the critics until about fifty years ago ; and then, as often happens with important discov- eries, two men detected it independently at the same time. In November, 1849, Professor John Wilson (" Chris- topher North ") announced this law in Blackwood' s Maga- zine as " an astounding discovery," illustrating it minutely by an analysis of Macbeth and Othello; and the Rev. N. J. Halpin, during the same month, pubHshed an essay on Dramatic Unities in Shakespeare, illustrating the same law by an analysis of The Merchant of Venice. There could be no question that the two men had been working independently, and had reached identical re- sults. The law may be briefly stated thus : Shakespeare uses two kinds of time in the plays : one fast, corresponding to the brief time required for the action on the stage ; the other slow, corresponding to the longer time necessary for the actual succession of events represented. The law has been aptly and more concisely designated as "Shake- speare's tivo clocks, '^ one of which goes fast while the other goes slow. Apparently this manner of dealing with dramatic time was original with Shakespeare ; at least, it was used by Introduction 21 * him in all his plays (except the two I have mentioned in which the unity of time is observed), and in all the details of their action, while it seldom, if ever, appears in the works of other dramatists. In As You Like It the two kinds of time are very easily recognized, and it is for this reason that I refer to the sub- ject in connection with this play. When the banishment of the old Duke is first mentioned, we infer that it occurred very recently. OHver, though a gentleman living near the court, has not heard of it until Charles the wrestler tells him about it, and Charles him- self seems to have only an imperfect knowledge of the main facts. " Where will the old Duke live ? " Oliver asks. " They say,^^ replies Charles, " he is already in the Forest of Arden," etc. There are reasons for this " fast time " here, which a careful student or reader will have no diffi- culty in discovering. " Slow time " appears very soon afterward. In Scene 3, when the new Duke is banishing Rosalind, he says, in reply to the protest of Celia, that it was for her sake that the daughter was not exiled with the father. CeHa replies : — " 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." 22 As You Like It This certainly throws the banishment of the old Duke several years back into the past. Note also his own speech at the opening of the second act : — "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 More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. The seasons' difference," etc. Clearly he and his friends have been in the forest long enough to get used to life there, and to experience '' the seasons' difference " — the winter as well as the summer. I need not continue this analysis further in the play. The reader will find it a profitable exercise to follow it out for himself. [Professor Wilson's paper may be found in Blackwood for November, 1849, with a continuation in the number for April, 1850. It is reprinted in the Transactions of the Neiv Shakspere Society, 1875-76, pp. 351-387; where it is followed (pp. 388-412) by a re- print of Rev. Mr. Halpin's pamphlet.] AS YOU LIKE IT 23 DRAMATIS PERSONS, ' Duke, living in banishment. Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. Amiens, ) lords attending on the banished Jaques, i duke. Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Fred- erick. Charles, wrestler to Frederick. Oliver, t^QUES, J- sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. v/Orlando, Adam, \ Dennis, i/ Touchstone, a clown. Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. Silvius, i shepherds. William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. A person representing Hymen. Rosalind, daughter to the banished duke. Celia, daughter to Frederick. Phebe, a shepherdess. Audrey, a country wench. Lords, pages, and attendants, etc. Scene: Oliver's house; Duke Fred- erick's court; and the Forest of Arden. servants to Oliver. 24 :im. " To Liberty, and not to Banishment " ACT I Scene I. Orchard of Oliver'' s House Enter Orlando and Adam Orlando. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well ; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more prop- erly, stays me here at home unkept ; for call you 25 26 As You Like It [Act i that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred 10 better, for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired ; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth, for the which his animals on his dung- hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me ; he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, 20 that grieves me ; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servi- tude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Enter Oliver Oliver. Now, sir ! what make you here? Orlando. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing. 30 Oliver. What mar you then, sir ? Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. Scene i] As You Like It 27 Orlando. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them ? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury ? Oliver. Know you where you are, sir? 40 Orlando. O, sir, very well ; here in your orchard. Oliver. Know you before whom, sir? Orlando. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me!. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers be- twixt us. I have as much of my father in me as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to 50 his reverence. Oliver. What, boy ! Orlando. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oliver. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? Orlando. I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys : he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy 60 tongue for saying so ; thou hast railed on thyself. Adam. Sweet masters, be patient ; for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oliver. Let me go, I say. Orlando. I will not, till I please.; you shall hear 28 As You Like It [Act i me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education ; you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like quahties. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow me 70 such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oliver. And what wilt thou do ? beg, when that is spent ? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be troubled with you ; you shall have some part of your will. I pray you, leave me. Orlando. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oliver'. Get you with him, you old dog. 80 Adam. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. — God be with my old master ! he would not have spoke such a word. \_Exetmt Orlando aiid Adam. Oliver. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me ? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. — Holla, Dennis ! Enter Dennis Dennis. Calls your worship ? Oliver. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me ? Dennis. So please you, he is here at the door and 90 importunes access to you. Scene I] As You Like It 29 Oliver. Call him in. \_Exif Dennis.'] 'T will be a good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter Charles Charles. Good morrow to your worship. Oliver. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court? Charles. There 's no news at the court, sir, but the old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke, and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile 100 with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke ; and therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oliver. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daugh- ter, be banished with her father? Charles. O, no ; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; no and never two ladies loved as they do. Oliver. Where will the old dujke live? Charles. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there they live Hke the old Robin Hood of England. They^ay\ many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and i -^ fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden j world. 30 As You Like It [Act i Oliver. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? 120 Charles. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to under- stand that your younger brother Orlando hath a dis- position to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit ; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender ; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in. Therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, 130 that either you might stay him from his intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will. Oliver. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I '11 tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambi- 140 tion, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother ; therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to 't, for if thou dost him any slight dis- grace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by Scene II] As You Like It 31 some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other ; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, 150 there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him ; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Chaj'les. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I '11 give him his payment. If ever he go alone again, I '11 never wrestle for prize more ; and so, God keep your worship ! Oliver. Farewell, good Charles. — \_Exit Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an 160 end of him, for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own peo- ple, 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 '11 go about. \^Exit. Scene II. Lawn before the Duke^s Palace Enter Celia and Rosalind Celia. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. 32 As You Like It [Act i Rosalind. 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 banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraor- dinary pleasure. Celia. Herein I see thou lovest 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 lo thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine ; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tem- pered as mine is to thee. Rosalind. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Celia. 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. 20 By mine honour, I will ; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster ! Therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Rosalind. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see ; what think you of falling in love ? Celia. Marry, I prithee, 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 • mayst in honour come off again. Rosalind. What shall be our sport, then? 30 Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Scene II] As You Like It ^3 Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. Rosalind. I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Celia. 'T is true ; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. Rosalind. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's 40 office to Nature's ; Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Enter Touchstone Celia. 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 Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off" the argument ? Rosalind. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off" of Nature's wit. Celia. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work 50 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? Touchstone. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Celia. Were you made the messenger? AS YOU LIKE IT — 3 34 As You Like It [Act i Touchstone. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. 60 Rosalind. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touchstone. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught. Now I '11 stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. Celia. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge ? Rosalind. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touchstone. Stand you both forth now ; stroke 70 your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Celia. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touchstone. 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. Celia. Prithee, who is 't that thou meanest? 80 Touchstone. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Celia. My father's love is enough to honour him enough. Speak no more of him ; you '11 be whipped for taxation one of these days. Touchstone. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. Scene II] As You Like It 35 Celia. By my troth, thou sayest true ; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes 90 Monsieur Le Beau. Rosalind. With his mouth full of news. Celia. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind. Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia. All the better ; we shall be the more marketable. — Enter Le Beau Bon jour. Monsieur Le Beau ; what 's the news ? Le Beaic. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. 100 Celia. Sport! of what colour ? Le Beau. What colour, madam? how shall I answer you? Rosalind. As wit and fortune will. Touchstone. Or as the destinies decree. Celia. Well said ; that was laid on with a trowel. Touchstone. Nay, if I keep not my rank, — Rosalind. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies ; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost no the sight of. Rosalind. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end ; for the ;^6 As You Like It [Act i best is yet to do, and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. Ce/ia. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons, — Celia. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 120 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence, — Rosalind. With bills on their necks, ' Be it known unto all men by these presents.' Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler, which Charles in a mo- ment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him ; so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie ; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that 130 all the beholders take his part with weeping. Rosalind. Alas ! ToiLchstone. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touchstone. Thus men may grow wiser every day ! It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Celia. Or I, I promise thee. 139 Rosalind. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking ? — Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ? Scene II] As You Like It 37 Le Beau, You must, if you stay here ; for here is the place appointed for the wresthng, and they are ready to perform it. Celia. Yonder, sure, they are coming ; let us now stay and see it. Floui'ish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, aiid Attendants Duke Frederick. Come on ; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 150 Rosalind. Is yonder the man? Le Beau. Even he, madam. Celia. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks success- fully. Duke Fredei'ick. How now, daughter and cousin ! are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Rosalind. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. Duke Fi-ederick. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men. In pity of the challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, 160 but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies ; see if you can move him. Celia. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. Duke Frederick. Do so ; I '11 not be by. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for you. Orlando. I attend them with all respect and duty. Rosalind. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? 38 As You Like It [Act i Orlando. No, fair princess ; he is the general chal- 170 lenger. I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Celia. 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 fear 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 attempt. Rosalind, Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 180 therefore be misprised. We will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward. Orlando. 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 foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed, but 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 190 it I have nothing ; only in the world I fill up a place which may be better suppHed when I have made it empty. Rosalind. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Celia. And mine, to eke out hers. Rosalind. Fare you well ; pray heaven I be deceived in you ! Scene iij As You Like It 39 Celia. Your heart's desires be with you ! 199 Charles. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? Orlando. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a more modest working. Duke Frederick. You shall try but one fall. Charles. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- suaded him from a first. Orlando. YoU mean to mock me after ; you should not have mocked me before. But come your ways. 209 Rosalind. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man ! Celia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. \They wrestle, Rosalind. O excellent young man ! Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. \_Shout. Charles is thrown. Duke Frederick. No more, no more. Orlando, Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not yet well-breathed. Duke Frederick. How dost thou, Charles ? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 220 Duke Frederick. Bear him away. — What is thy name, young man? Orlando. Orlando, my liege j the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. Duke Frederick. I would thou hadst been son to some man else. The world esteem'd thy father honourable, 40 As You Like It [Act i But I did find him still mine enemy. Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth. 230 I would thou hadst told me of another father. \_Exeunt Duke Frederick^ train, and Le Beau, Celia. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orlando. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son, and would not change that calhng, To be adopted heir to Frederick. Rosalind. 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. Celia.- Gentle cousin, 240 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. Rosalind. Gentleman, [ 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 means. — Shall we go, coz? Celia. Ay. — Fare you well, fair gentleman. 249 Orlando. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts Scene II] As You Like It 41 Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Rosalind. 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. Celia. Will you go, coz? Rosalind, Have with you. — Fare you well. \_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia, Orlando. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown ! 260 Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. Enter Le Beau Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd 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 humorous ; what he is, indeed, More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. Orlaftdo. I thank you, sir; and, pray you, tell me this : Which of the two was daughter of the duke 270 That here was at the wrestling? 42 As You Like It [Act i Le Beau, Neither his daughter, if we judge by man- ners ; But yet indeed the smaller 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 280 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. Orlando. I rest much bounden to you ; fare you well. — \_Exit Le Beau, Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother. — 289 But heavenly Rosalind ! \_Exit, Scene HI. A Room in the Palace Enter Celia and Rosalind Celia, Why, cousin ! why, Rosalind ! Cupid have mercy ! not a word? Rosalind. Not one to throw at a dog. Scene III] As You Like It 43 Celia. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs ; throw some of them at me. Come, lame me with reasons. Rosalind, Then there were two cousins laid up ; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. Celia. But is all this for your father? 10 Rosalind. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world ! Celia. 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. Rosalind. I could shake them off my coat ; these burs are in my heart. Celia. Hem them away. Rosalind. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him. 20 Celia. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Rosalind. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! Celia. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? Rosalind. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. 30 Celia. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate 44 As You Like It [Act i him, for my father hated his father dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando. Rosalind. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Celia. Why should I not ? doth he not deserve well ? Rosalind. Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. — Look, here comes the duke. Celia. With his eyes full of anger. Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. Duke Frederick. Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste, 40 And get you from our court. Rosalind. Me, uncle ? Duke Frederick. You, cousin ; Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our public court as twenty miles. Thou diest for it. Rosalind. 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 mine own desires. If that I do not dream or be not frantic, — As I do trust I am not, — then, dear uncle. Never so much as in a thought unborn 50 Did I offend your highness. Duke Frederick. 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. Scene III] As You Like It 45 Rosalind. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor \ Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Duke Frederick. Thou art thy father's daughter ; there 's enough. Rosalind, So was I when your highness took his duke- dom ; So was I when your highness banish'd him. Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 60 Or, if we did derive it from our friends. What 's that to me ? my father was no traitor. Then, good my Hege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous. Celia. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke Frederick. Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang'd along. Celia. 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, 70 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 Frederick. She is too subtle for thee j and her smoothness. Her very silence and her patience. Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool j she robs thee of thy name, 46 As You Like It [Act i And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous 80 When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her ; she is banish'd. Celia. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege j I cannot live out of her company. Duke Frederick. You are a fool. — You, niece, pro- vide yourself; If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. \_Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. Celia. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. 90 I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Rosalind. I have more cause. Celia. Thou hast not, cousin. Prithee, be cheerful ; know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter? Rosalind. That he hath not. Celia. No, hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love 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 \ 100 And do not seek to take the charge upon you. To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out, For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale. Say what thou canst, I '11 go along with thee. Scene III] As You Like It 47 Rosalind. Why, whither shall we go? Celia. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden»-. Rosalind. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Celia. I '11 put myself in poor and mean attire, no And with a kind of umber smirch my face. The hke do you \ so shall we pass along And never stir assailants. Rosalind. ^ 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-axe upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand ; and, in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will, We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside. As many other mannish cowards have 120 That do outface it with their semblances. Celia. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? Rosalind. I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be call'd? Celia. Something that hath a reference to my state ; No longer Celia, but Aliena. . Rosalind. 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? 130 Celia. He '11 go along o'er the wide world with me ; 48 As You Like It [Act i 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 To liberty, and not to banishment. \_Exeunt "A Poor Sequester'd Stag" ACT II Scene I. The Forest of Arden Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like foresters Duke Senior. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, ,liSLthi?oi_9jd.G-UStaiTi,ma^^^^^^ thisJife-inDj:£LS55;Xet_ Than that^^oTgainted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. AS YOU LIKE IT- 49 50 As You Like It [Act ii The seasons' difference, — as the icy fang And churhsh 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 lo 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 ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. Sermons in stones, and good in everything. I would not change it. Amiens. Happy is your grace. That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20 Duke Senior. 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 Have their round haunches gor'd. First 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 30 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood, Scene I] As You Like It 51 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's 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, 40 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook. Augmenting it with tears. Duke Senior. But what said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle ? First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into the needless stream : *■ Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone. Left and abandon' d of his velvet friends : 50 * 'T is right,' quoth he ; ' thus misery doth part The flux of company.' Anon a careless herd. Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him. ' Ay,' quoth Jaques, * Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens, 'T is just the fashion ; wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? ' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court. Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we 60 52 As You Like It [Act ii 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. Dicke Senior. And did you leave him in this contem- plation ? Second Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke Senior. Show me the place ; I love to cope him in these sullen fits. For then he 's full of matter. First Lord. I '11 bring you to him straight. \_Exeunf. Scene II. A Room in the Palace Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords Duke Frederick. Can it be possible that no man saw them ? It cannot be ; some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her abed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. Second Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, lo Confesses that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler Scene III] As You Like It ^^ That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. Z>uke Frederick. Send to his brother ; fetch that gal- lant hither. If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; I '11 make him find him. Do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail 20 To bring again these foolish runaways. \_Exeunt. 1 Scene III. Before Oliver^s House Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting Orlando. Who's there? Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle master ! O my sweet master ! O you memory Of old Sir Rowland ! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you ? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and vaKant ? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous duke ? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men 10 Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours ; your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it ! Orlando. Why, what 's the matter? 54 As You Like It [Act ii Adam. 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 20 Of him I was about to call his father — Hath heard your praises, and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie And you within it ; if he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off. I overheard him in his practices. This is no place ; this house is but a butchery. Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Orlando. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30 Orlando. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? 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 ; I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 When service should in my old limbs lie lame And unregarded age in corners thrown. Scene III] As You Like It 55 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 50 The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my a^e is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you ; I '11 do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Orlando. O good old man ! how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world. When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times. Where none will sweat but for promotion, 60 A.nd having that, do choke 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 '11 go along together. And ere we have thy youthful wages spent. We '11 light upon some settled low content. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 70 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore ^6 As You Like It [Act ii Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, But at fourscore it is too late a week ; Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. Scene IV. T/te Forest of Arden Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and Touchstone Rosalind. O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits ! Touchstone. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Rosalind. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel and to cry like a woman, but I must comfort the v/eaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat ; therefore courage, good Aliena ! Celia. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot go no further. lo Touchstone. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you ; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse. Rosalind. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touchstone, Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I ! when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content. Rosalind. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. — Look Scene IV] As You Like It 57 you who comes here ; a young man and an old in 20 solemn talk. Enter CoRiN and Silvius Corin. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Silvius, O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her ! Corin. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now. Silvius, 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 — As sure I think did never man love so — How many actions most ridiculous 30 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? Corin. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Silvius. 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. Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not lov'd j Or if thou hast not broke from company 40 x\bruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lov'd. Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! {^Exit. Rosalind. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, 1 have by hard adventure found mine own. 58 As You Like It [Act ii Touchstone. And I mine. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked ; and I 50 remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, *Wear these for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. Rosalind. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. / Touchstone. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine V own wit till I break my shins against it. Rosalind. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion 60 Is much upon my fashion. Touchstone. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me. Celia. I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food ; I faint almost to death. Touchstone. Holla, you clown ! Rosalind. Peace, fool ; he 's not thy kinsman. Covin. Who calls? Touchstone. Your betters, sir. Corin. Else are they very wretched. Rosalind. Peace, I say. — Good even to you, friend. Corin. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 70 Rosalind. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Scene IV] As You Like It 59 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. Corin. 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 shear the fleeces that I graze. My master is of churlish disposition, 80 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 sheepcote now, 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. Rosalind. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ? Corin. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. 90 Rosalind. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Celia. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. And willingly could waste my time in it. Corin. Assuredly the thing is to be sold. Go with me ; if you like upon report 6o As You Like It [Act ii The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be, 99 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. \_Exeunt. Scene V. The Forest Enter Amiens, Jaques, and otheis SONG Amiens. Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turii his merry note Unto the sweet bi7^d''s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither ; Here shall he see No enemy Bui winter and roiigh weather. Jaques. More, more, I prithee, more ! A7niens. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur lo Jaques. Jaques. I thank it. More, I prithee, more ! I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more ! Amiens. My voice is ragged ; I know I cannot please you. Jaques. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo — call you 'em stanzos? Scene V] As You Like It 6i Amiens. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. 20 Jaques. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe me nothing. Will you sing? Afniens. More at your request than to please myself. Jaques. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I '11 thank you ; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing ; and you that will not, hold your tongues. Amiens. Well, I '11 end the song. — Sirs, cover the 30 while ; the duke will drink under this tree. — He hath been all this day to look you. Jaques. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company ; I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. SONG Who doth ambition shun [All together here. And loves to live /' the sun^ Seeking the food he eats And pleas^ d with what he gets, 40 Come hither, come hither, come hither ; Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. 62 As You Like It [Act ii Jaques. I '11 give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Amiens. And I '11 sing it. Jaques. Thus it goes : — If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, . ' 50 Leaving his wealth and ease, A stubboim will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, due dame ; Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Amiens. What 's that ^ ducdame ? ' Jaques. 'T is a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I '11 go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, I '11 rail against all the firstborn of Egypt. 60 Amiens. And I '11 go seek the duke ; his banquet is prepared. \_Exeunt severally. Scene VI. The Forest Enter Orlando and Adam Adam. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orlando. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself Scene VII] As You Like It 6^ a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable ; hold death awhile at the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently, and if I bring lo thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die ; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly, and I '11 be with thee quickly. — Yet thou liest in the bleak air ; come, I will bear thee to some shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! \_Exeunt. Scene VII. The Forest A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and Lords like Outlaws Duke Senior, I think he be transform'd into a beast ; For I can no where find him like a man. Fii'st Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence ; Here was he merry, hearing of a song. Duke Senior. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. Go seek him ; tell him I would speak with him. Enter Jaques First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. Duke Senior. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this, 64 As You Like It [Act 11 That your poor friends must woo your company ! 10 What, you look merrily ! Jaques, A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ! — a miserable world ! — As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. ' Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. '■ No, sir,' quoth he, ' Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.' And then he drew a dial from his poke, 20 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye. Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock ; Thus we may see,' quoth he, ' how the world wags. 'T is but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 't will be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 30 That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! A worthy fool ! Motley 's the only wear. Duke Senior. What fool is this? /agues. O worthy fool ! — One that hath been a courtier. And says, if ladies be but young and fair. They have the gift to know it ; and in his brain. Scene VII] As You Like It 6^ Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 40 With observation, the whicli he vents In mangled forms. — O that I were a fool ! I am ambitious for a motley coat. Duke Senior. Thou shalt have one. Jaques. It is my only suit ; Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, ^ To blow on whom I please, for so fools have ; And they that are most galled v/ith my folly, 50 They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The ' why ' is plain as way to parish church. He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart. But to seem senseless of the bob ; if not. The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Invest me in my motley ; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 60 If they will patiently receive my medicine. Duke Senior. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst do. Jaques. What, for a counter, would I do but good? Duke Senior. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin ; For thou thyself hast been a libertine, AS YOU LIKE IT — 5 66 As You Like It [Act ii As sensual as the brutish sting itself, And all the embossed sores and headed evils That thou with license of free foot hast caught Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. Jaques. Why, who cries out on pride, 70 That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name When that I say the city woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shouldei's ? Who can come in and say that I mean her, When such a one as she such is her neighbour? Or what is he of basest function That says his bravery is not on my cost, 80 Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech? There then ; how then ? what then ? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him. If it do him right. Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. — But who comes here? : . Enter Orlando, with his sword draivn Orlando. Forbear, and eat no more. Jaques. Why, I have eat none yet. Orlando. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Jaques. Of what kind should this cock come of? 90 Scene VII] As You Like It 67 Duke Senior. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress, Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? Orlando. You touch'd my vein at first ; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility, yet am I inland bred And know some nurture. But forbear, I say ; He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaques. An you will not be answered with reason, I too must die. Duke Senior. What would you have ? Your gentleness shall force. More than your force move us to gentleness. Orlando. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke Senior. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orlando. Speak you so gently ? Pardon me, I pray you. I thought that all things had been savage here, And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, no Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, If ever you have look'd on better days. If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church. If ever sat at any good man's feast. If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, 68 As You Like It [Act ii And know what 't is to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be ; In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. Duke Senior. True is it that we have seen better days, 120 And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church. And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd ; And therefore sit you down in gentleness, And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be minister'd. Orlando. Then but forbear your food a little while. Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man. Who after me hath many a weary step 130 Limp'd in pure love ; till he be first suffic'd, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. Duke Senior. Go find him out. And we will nothing waste till you return. Orlando. I thank ye ; and be blest for your good comfort ! \_Exit. Duke Senior. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy ; This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene .VJ/lierein we play in. Jdques. All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players j 140 They have their exits and their entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts, Scene VII] As You Like It 69 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping hke snail Unwillingly to school ; and then the lover. Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow ; then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 150 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth ; and then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part.l The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose well sav'd, a w^orld too wide 160 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness and mere oblivion. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. Entei' Orlando, with Adam Duke Senior. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden. And let him feed. yo As You Like It [Act ii Orlando. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need ; I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 170 Duke Senior. Welcome ; fall to. I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes. — Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. Song Amiens. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen. Although thy breath be rude. Hei^h-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly; 180 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly ; Then, heigh-ho, the holly / This life is most jolly I Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits foi'got ; Though thou the waters wai'p. Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember' d not. Heigh-ho ! sing, etc. 190 Duke Senior. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son. Scene VII] As You Like It 71 As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly Hmn'd and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither. I am the duke That lov'd your father ; the residue of your fortune. Go to my cave and tell me. — Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is. — Support him by the arm. — Give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt. 200 \ l^ "Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me" ACT III Scene I. A Roo7n in the Palace Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver Duke Frederick. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be ; But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument 72 Scene II J As You Like It 73 Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it ; Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is. Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or Hving Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, 10 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee. Oliver. O that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never lov'd my brother in my life^ Duke Frederick. More villain thou. — Well, push him out of doors. And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands. Do this expediently, and turn him going. \_Exeunt. Scene II. The Forest Enter Orlando, with a paper Oi'lando. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love ; And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, f Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. O Rosahnd ! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I '11 character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. 74 As You Like It [Act iii Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. \_ExiL lo Enter Corin and Touchstone Corin. And how like you this shepherd's life, Mas- / ter Touchstone ? / Touchstone. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it V/ is a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile hfe. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare hfe, look you, it fits my humour well ; but as there is no more plenty in 20 it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any phi- losophy in thee, shepherd ? Corin. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is ; and that he that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. 30 Touchstone. Such a one is a natural philosopher, -i ;- Wast ever in court, shepherd? Corin. No, truly. v^' Touchstone. Then thou art damned. Corin. Nay, I hope, — 7^. Scene II] As You Like It Touchstone. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill- roasted egg all on one side. I Corin. For not being at court? Your reason. Touchstone. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never savv'st good manners ; if thou never saw'st good 40 manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; and 1 wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Corin. Not a whit. Touchstone ; those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands ; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Toiichsto7ie. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 50 Corin. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. Touchstone. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole- some as the sweat of a man ? Shallow, shallow ! A better instance, I say ; come. Corin. Besides, our hands are hard. Touchstone. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again ! A more sounder instance ; come. . Corin. And they are often tarred over with the 60 surgery of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Touchstone. Most shallow man ! thou worms'-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn of 76 As You Like It [Act ill the wise, and perpend ; civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the in- stance, shepherd. Corin. You have too courtly a wit for me ; I '11 rest. Touchstone. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou 70 art raw. Corin. Sir, I am a true labourer : I earn that I eat, get that I wear ; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness ; glad of other men's good, content with my harm j and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. Touchstone. That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together. If thou be'st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no ' shepherds ; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 80 scape. Corin. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. Enter Rosalind, reading a paper Rosalind. From the east to western Ind, No Jewel is like Rosalind. Her wo7'th, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest liiC d Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind 90 But the fair of Rosalind. Scene II] As You Like It 77 Touchstone. I '11 rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted; it is the right butter-women's rank to market. Rosalind. Out, fool ! Touchstone. For a taste : If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalind. 100 Winter garments must be lin'd, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind ; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind, i He that sweetest rose will find Must find love's prick and Rosahnd. This is the very false gallop of verses ; why do you infect yourself with them ? no Rosalind. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on a tree. Touchstone. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Rosalind. I '11 graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar ; then it will be the earliest fruit i' the country, for you '11 be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that 's the right virtue of the medlar. Touchstone. You have said j but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. 78 V As You Like It [Act iii Enter Celia, with a writing Rosalind. Peace ! 120 Here comes my sister, reading j stand aside. Ce'ia. [Reads] Why should this a desert be ? For it is tmpeopled ? No; Tongues I '11 hang on every tree, That shall civil sayings show : Some, how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age ; Some, of violated vows 130 ''Twixt the souls of fiend and friend. But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence end. Will I Rosalinda write ^ Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would i?i little show. Therefoi^e Heaven Nature chai^g'd That one body should be filPd With all gi'aces wide-enlarg' d ; 140 Nature p7^esently distilVd Helen's cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra' s majesty, Atalantd's better part. Sad Lucr end's modesty. Scene II] As You Like It . 79 Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod was devised, Of many faces J eyes, and hearts, To have the touches dearest priz'd. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, 150 And I to live and die her slave. Rosalind. O most gentle Jupiter ! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, ' Have patience, good people !' Celia. How now ! back, friends ! — Shepherd, go off a little. — Go with him, sirrah. ^ ^^ Touchstone. Come, shepherd, let us make an hon- ourable retreat ; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. \_Exeunt Corin and Touchstone. Celia. Didst thou hear these verses ? 160 Rosalind. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Celia. That 's no matter ; the feet might bear the verses. Rosalind. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Celia. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these 170 trees ? Rosalind. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came ; for look here what I found 8o As You Like It [Act iii on a palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since Py- thagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Celia. Trow you who hath done this? Rosalind. Is it a man? Celia. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck? Change you colour? i8o Rosalind. I prithee, who ? Celia. O Lord, Lord ! It is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earth- quakes and so encounter. Rosalind. Nay, but who is it? Celia. Is it possible? Rosalind. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. Celia. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder- ful wonderful ! and yet again wonderful, and after that, 190 out of all whooping ! Rosalind. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stam- mer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow- mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy 200 tidings. Is he of God's making ? What manner of man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ? Scene II] As You Like It 8 1 Celia. Nay, he hath but a little beard. Rosalind. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful ; let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Celia. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. Rosalind. Nay, but the devil take mocking ! speak sad brow and true maid. 210 Celia. I' faith, coz, 't is he. Rosalind. Orlando ? Celia. Orlando. Rosalind. Alas the day ! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? — What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he ? How parted he with thee ? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. 220 Celia. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first ; 't is a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to yaswer in a catechism. Rosalind. But doth he know that I am in this forest And in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? Celia. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover ; but take a taste of my find- ing him, and relish it with good observance. I found 230 him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. AS YOU LIKE IT — 6 82 As You Like It [Act iii Rosalind. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Celia. Give me audience, good madam. Rosalind. Proceed. Celia. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. Rosalind. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. Celia. Cry * holla ' to thy tongue, I prithee ; it 240 curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. Rosalind. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. Celia. I would sing my song without a burden; thou bringest me out of tune. Rosalind. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Celia. You bring me out. — Soft ! comes he not here? Enter Orlando and Jaques Rosalind. 'T is he ; slink by, and note him. 250 Jaques. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orlando. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. Jaques. God be wi' you ! let 's meet as little as we can. Orlando. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaques. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Scene II J • As You Like It 83 Orlando. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses 260 with reading them ill-favouredly. Jaques. Rosalind is your love's name? Orlando. Yes, just. /agues. I do not like her name. Orlando. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. Jaques. What stature is she of ? Orlando. Just as high as my heart. Jaques. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and 270 conned them out of rings ? Orlando. Not so ; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. Jaques. You have a nimble wit ; I think 't was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me ? and we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. Orlando. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. Jaques. The worst fault you have is to be in love. 280 Orlando. 'T is a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. Jaques. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. Orlando. He is drowned in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him. Jaques. There I shall see mine own figure. Orlando. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. 84 As You Like It [Act in Jaques. I '11 tarry no longer with you ; farewell, good Signior Love. 290 Orlando. I am glad of your departure ; adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. \_Exit Jaques. Rosalind. \_Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. — Do you hear, forester ? Orlando. Very well : what would you ? Rosalind. I pray you, what is 't o'clock? Orlando. You should ask me what time o' day; there 's no clock in the forest. Rosalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; 300 else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. Orlando. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper? Rosalind. By no means, sir ; Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I '11 tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gal- lops withal, and who he stands still withal. Orlando. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? Rosalind. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid 310 between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight. Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. Orlando. Who ambles Time withal? Rosalind. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps easily Scene iij As You. Like It 85 because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain ; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no 320 burden of heavy tedious penury ; these Time ambles withal. Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal? Rosalind. With a thief to the gallows ; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Orlando. Who stays it still withal? Rosalind. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. 330 Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? Rosalind. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. Oi'lando. Are you native of this place ? Rosalind. As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelHng. Rosalind. I have been tol4 so of many ; but indeed an old religious uncle of mino-taught me to speak, who 340 was in his youth an inland man, one that knew court- ship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. 86 As You Like It [Act ill Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? Rosalind. There were none principal ; they were all like one another as half-pence are, every one fault seem- 350 ing monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. Orlando. I prithee, recount some of them. Rosalind. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosa- lind on their barks ; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. 360 Orlando. I am he that is so love-shaked ; I pray you, tell me your remedy. Rosalind. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you ; he taught me how to know a man in love, in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. 07'lando. What were his marks ? Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not ; an unques- tionable spirit, which you have not ; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for 370 simply your having in beard is a younger brother's rev- enue. Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man ; you Scene II] As You Like It 87 are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as lov- ing yourself than seeming the lover of any other. Orlafido. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Rosalind. Me beUeve it ! you may as soon make 380 her that you love beheve it, which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does ; that is one of the points in the which women still give the He to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired ? Orlando. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. Rosalind. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? 39© Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. Rosalind. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as mad- men do; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. Orlando. Did you ever cure any so ? Rosalind. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was 400 to imagine me his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me ; at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, change- able, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shal- 88 As You Like It [Act iii low, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion something and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him ; now weep for him, then spit at him ; that I drave my suitor from his mad 410 humour of love to a living humour of madness, which was to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him ; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. Orlando. I would not be cured, youth. Rosalind. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me. Orlando. Now, by the faith of my love, I will ; tell 420 me where it is. Rosalind. Go with me to it and I '11 show it you, and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go ? Orlando. With all my heart, good youth. Rosalind. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. — Come, sister, will you go? \_Exeunt. Scene III. The Forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind Totichstone. Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats, Audrey, And how, Audrey? Scene III] As You Like It 89 am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? Audrey. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what features ? Touchstone. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. Jaques. \^Aside\ O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse 10 than Jove in a thatched house ! Touchstone. When a man's verses cannot be under- stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than ' a great reckoning in a httle room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. Audrey. I do not know what poetical is ; is it hon- est in deed and word ? is it a true thing ? Touchstone. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and 20 what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. Audrey. Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical? Touchstone. I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest ; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. Audrey. Would you not have me honest? Touchstone. No, truly, unless thou wert hard- favoured ; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have T)'^ honey a sauce to sugar. 90 As You Like It [Act in Jaques. \_Aside\ A material fool ! Audrey. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest ! Touchstotie. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish. Audrey. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. Touchstone. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 40 ness ! 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 vil- lage, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us. Jaques. \_Aside'\ I would fain see this meeting. Audrey. Well, the gods give us joy ! Touchstone. 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. 50 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 ; 't is none of his own getting. Are horns given to poor men alone ? No, no ; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. 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 bach- 60 Scene III] As You Like It 91 elor ; 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 dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ? Sir Oliver. Is there none here to give the woman? Touchstone. I will not take her on gift of any man. Sir Oliver. Truly, she must be given, or the mar- riage is not lawful. 70 Jaques. \_Advancing] Proceed, proceed ; I '11 give her. Touchstone. Good even, good Master What-ye- call-'t ; how do you, sir ? You are very well met ; God 'ield you for your last company ! I am very glad to see you ; — even a toy in hand here, sir ; — nay, pray be covered. Jaques. Will you be married, motley ? Touchstone. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his 80 desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. Jaques. And will you, being a man of your breed- ing, 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 92 As You Like It [Act iii prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touchstone. \^Aside\ I am not in the mind but I 90 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. Jaques. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touchstone. Come, sweet Audrey. — Farewell, good Master Oliver ; not — ' O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee : ' 100 but — ' Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee.^ \_Exeimt Jaques, Touchsto7te, and Audi^ey. Sir Oliver. 'T is no matter ; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calHng. \_Exit. Scene IV. The Forest. Before a Cottage Enter Rosalind and Celia Rosalind. Never talk to me ; I will weep. Celia. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. Rosalind. But have I not cause to weep? Scene IV] As You Like It 93 Celia. As good cause as one would desire ; there- fore weep. Rosalind. His very hair is of the dissembhng colour. Celia. Something browner than Judas's ; marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. 10 Rosalind. V faith, his hair is of a good colour. Celia. An excellent colour ; your chestnut was ever the only colour. Rosalind. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Celia. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana ; a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more reli- giously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. Rosalind. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? 20 Celia. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. Rosalind. Do you think so? Celia. Yes. I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse- stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. Rosalind. Not true in love ? Celia. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in. Rosalind. You have heard him swear downright he was. Celia. Was is not is ; besides, the oath of a lover 30 is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. 94 As You Like It [Act iii Rosalind. 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 of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Celia. O, that 's a brave man ! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and 40 breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all 's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. — Who comes here? Enter Corin Corin. Mistress and master, you have oft inquir'd After the shepherd that complain'd of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf. Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. Celia. Well, and what of him ? 50 Corin. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, 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. Rosalind. O, come, let us remove ; The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. — Bring us to see this sight, and you shall say I '11 prove a busy actor in their play. \_Exeunt, Scene vj As You Like It 95 Scene V. Another Part of the Forest Enter Silvius and Phebe Silvias, 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 accustom'd 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 Phebe. I would not be thy executioner ; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me there is murther in mine eye ; 10 'T is pretty, sure, and very probable. That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murtherers ! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee. Now counterfeit to swoon ; why, now fall down ; Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame. Lie not, to say mine eyes are murtherers ! Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee. 20 Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure 96 As You Like It [Act iii Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Silviics. O dear Phebe, If ever — as that ever may be near — You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then shall you know the wounds invisible 30 That love's keen arrows make. Phebe. 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 shall not pity thee. Rosalind. \_Advancing\ And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once. Over the wretched ? What though you have no beauty, — As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed, — Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 40 Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work. — 'Od's my little Hfe, I think she means to tangle my eyes too ! — No,, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 'T is not your inky brows, your black silk hair. Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, That can entarae my spirits to your worship. — You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Scene V] As You Like It 97 Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ? 50 You are a thousand times a properer man Than she a woman ; 't is such fools as you That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children. 'T is not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her. — But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love, For I must tell you friendly in your ear. Sell when you can, you are not for all markets. 60 Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer ; Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. — So take her to thee, shepherd ; fare you well. Phebe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- gether ; I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. Rosalind. He 's fallen in love with your /oulness, and she '11 fall in love with my anger. — If it be soj as fest as she answers thee with frowning looks, I '11 sauce her with bitter words. — Why look you so upon me ? Phebe. For no ill will I bear you. 70 Rosalind. I pray you, do not fall in love with me. For I am falser than vows made in wine ; Besides, I like you not. — If you will know my house, 'T is at the tuft of olives here hard by. — Will you go, sister? — Shepherd, ply her hard. — Come, sister. — Shepherdess, look on him better. And be not proud ; though all the world could see, AS YOU LIKE IT — 7 98 As You Like It [Act iii None could be so abus'd in sight as he. — Come, to our flock. \_Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. Phebe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 80 * Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight ? ' Silvius. Sweet Phebe, — Phebe. Ha ! what say'st thou, Silvius ? Silvius. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phebe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Silvius. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; If you do sorrow at my grief in love. By giving love your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin'd. Phebe. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly? Silvius. I would have you. Phebe. Why, that were covetousness. 90 Silvius, the time was that I hated thee. And yet it is not that I bear thee love ; But since that thou canst talk of love so well. Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure, and I '11 employ thee too. But do not look for further recompense Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. Silvius. So holy and so perfect is my love. And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 100 To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps ; loose now and then A scatter' d smile, and that I '11 live upon. Scene V] As You Like It 99 Phebe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere- while ? Silvius. Not very well, but I have met him oft j And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of. Phebe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him. 'T is but a peevish boy ; yet he talks well. But what care I for words? yet words do well no ^When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth — not very pretty ; But, sure, he 's proud, and yet his pride becomes him. He '11 make a proper man ; the best thing in him Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue Did make offence his eye did heal it up. He is not very tall ; yet for his years he 's tall. His leg is but so-so ; and yet 't is well. There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red 120 Than that mix'd in his cheek; 't was just the difference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him ; but, for my part, I love him not nor hate him not, and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him ; For what had he to do to chide at me ? He said mine eyes were black and my hair black, And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me. 130 I marvel why I answer' d not again ; LofC.^ lOO As You Like It [Act iii But that 's all one, omittance is no quittance. I '11 write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it ; wilt thou, Silvius ? Silvius. Phebe, with all my heart. Phebe. I '11 write it straight ; The matter 's in my head and in my heart. I will be bitter with him and passing short. Go with me, Silvius. \_Exeunt. "Be of Good Cheer, Youth" ACT IV Scene I. The Forest Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques Jaques. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Rosalind. They say you are a melancholy fellow. Jaques. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing. lOI I02 As You Like It [Act iv Rosalind. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. Jaques, Why, 't is good to be sad and say nothing. Rosalind. Why then, 't is good to be a post. Jaques. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, lo which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fan- tastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these ; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many ob- jects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my trav- els, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. Rosalind. A traveller ! By my faith, you have great 20 reason to be sad. I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's ; then, to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Jaques. Yes, I have gained my experience. Rosalind. And your experience makes you sad ! I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experi- ence to make me sad ; and to travel for it too ! Enter Orlando Orlando. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind ! Jaques. Nay, then God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. \_Exit. 30 Rosalind. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you Scene I] As You Like It 103 lisp and wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. — Why, how now, Orlando ! where have you been all this while ? You a lover ! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. Orlando. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. 40 Rosalind. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I '11 warrant him heart-whole. Orlando. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. Rosalind. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight \ I had as lief be wooed of a snail. Orlando. Of a snail? 50 Rosalind. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head, — a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman ; besides, he brings his destiny with him. Orlando. What 's that ? Rosalind. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for ; but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. Orlando. Virtue is no horn-maker, and my Rosalind is virtuous. 60 I04 As You Like It [Act iv Rosalind. And I am your Rosalind. Celia. It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. Rosalind. Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind ? Orlando. I would kiss before I spoke. Rosalind. Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter you might 70 take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking — God warn us ! — matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Orlando. How if the kiss be denied ? Rosalind. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. Orlando. Who could be out^ being before his beloved mistress? Rosalind. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than 80 my wit. Orlando. What, of my suit? Rosalind. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? Orlando. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Rosalind. Well, in her person I say I will not have you. Orlando. Then in mine own person I die. Scene I] As You Like It 105 Rosalind. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 90 world is ahnost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash hita in the Hellespont, and being taken with the cramp was drowned, and the foolish chroni- 100 clers of that age found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies ; men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orlando. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Rosalind. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosahnd in a more coming- on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Orlando. Then love me, Rosalind. no Rosalind. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. Orlando. And wilt thou have me ? Rosalind. Ay, and twenty such. Orlando. What sayest thou? Rosalind. Are you not good? Orlando. I hope so. Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a io6 As You Like It [Act iv good thing? — Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. — Give me your hand, Orlando. — What 120 do you say, sister? Orlando. Pray thee, marry us. Celia. I cannot say the words. Rosalind. You must begin, ' Will you, Orlando — ' Celia. Go to. — Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? Orlando. I will. Rosalind. Ay, but when? Orlando. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. Rosalind. Then you must say, ^ I take thee, Rosa- 130 lind, for wife.' Orlando. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. Rosalind. I might ask you for your commission, but I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband. There 's a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions. Orlando. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. Rosalind. Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her. Orlando. For ever and a day. 140 Rosalind. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando : men are April when they woo, December when they wed ;( maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my Scene I] As You Like It 107 desires than a monkey. I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a 150 hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. Orlando. But will my Rosalind do so ? Rosalind. By my life, she will do as I do. Orlando. Q. but she is wise. Rosalind. Or else she could not have the wit to do this ; the wiser, the waywarder/' Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement ; shut that, and 't will out at the key-hole ; stop that, 't will fly with the smoke out at the chimney. Orlando. A man that had a wife with such a wit, 160 he might say, * Wit, whither wilt ? * Rosalind. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. Orlando. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Rosalind. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's 170 occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool ! Orlando. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. Rosalind. Alas ! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. io8 As You Like It [Act iv Orlando. I must attend the duke at dinner ; by two o'clock I will be with thee again. Rosalind. Ay, go your ways, go your ways, I knew what you would prove ; my friends told me as much, i8o and I thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me ; 't is but one cast away, and so, come, death ! — Two o'clock is your hour ? Orlando. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Rosalind. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dan- gerous, if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that 190 may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful ; therefore beware my censure and keep your promise. Of^lando. With no less rehgion than if thou wert in- deed my Rosalind ; so adieu. Rosalind. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try ; adieu. \_Exit Orlando. Celia. You have simply misused our sex in your love- prate j we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. 200 Rosalind. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love ! But it cannot be sounded ; my affection hath an un- known bottom, like the bay of Portugal. Scene II] As You Like It 109 Celia, Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. Rosalind. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are out, let him be judge 2jo how deep I am in love. I '11 tell thee, AHena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando ; I '11 go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. Celia. And I '11 sleep. \_Exeunt. Scene II. The Forest Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters Jaques. Which is he that killed the deer ? A Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaques. Let 's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror, and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? Forester. Yes, sir. Jaques. Sing it ; 't is no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG Forester. What shall he have that kilV d the deer ? 10 His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home. [The rest shall bear this burthen. \ no As You Like It [Act iv Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ; It was a C7'est ere thou wast born ; Thy father'' s father wore it f And thy father bore it. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. Scene III. The Forest Enter Rosalind and Celia Rosalind. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando ! Celia. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth — to sleep. Look, who comes here. Enter Silvius Silvius. My errand is to you, fair youth ; My gentle Phebe bid me give you this. I know not the contents ; but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, lo It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, I am but as a guiltless messenger. Rosalind. Patience herself would startle at this letter And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all. She says I am not fair, that I lack manners ; She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will ! Her love is not the hare that I do hunt ; Scene III] As You Like It ill Why writes she so to me? — Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device. 20 Silvius. No, I protest, I know not the contents ; Phebe did write it. Rosalind. Come, come, you are a fool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand ; she has a leathern hand, A freestone- colour'd hand. I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 't was her hands. She has a huswife's hand ; but that 's no matter. I say she never did invent this letter ; This is a man's invention and his hand. Silvius. Sure, it is hers. 30 Rosalind. Why, 't is a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers ; why, she defies me. Like Turk to Christian. Woman's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? Silvius. So please you, for I never heard it yet, Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Rosalind. She Phebes me ; mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads] Art thou god to shepherd ticrn^d, 40 That a maiden^ s heart hath burn'd? — Can a woman rail thus ? Silvius. Call you this railing? Rosalind. [Reads] Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? — 112 As You Like It [Act iv Did you ever hear such railing? — Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance to me. — Meaning me a beast. — If the scorn of your bright eyne 50 Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect/ Whiles you chid me, I did love ; How then might your prayers ??iove ! He that b7'ings this love to thee Little knows this love in me ; And by him seal up thy mind : Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take 60 Of me and all that I can 7nake, Or else by him my love deny. And then I 7/ study how to die. Silvius. Call you this chiding? Celia. Alas, poor shepherd ! Rosalind. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. — Wilt thou love such a woman ? What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee ! not to be endured ! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to 70 her : that if she love me, I charge her to love thee ; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more company. \_Exit Silvius. Scene III] As You Like It 113 Enter Oliver Oliver. Good morrow, fair ones ; pray you, if you know Where in the purHeus of this forest stands A sheepcote fenc'd about with ohve trees? Celia, West of this place down in the neighbour bottom ; The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place. 80 But at this hour the house doth keep itself; There 's none within. Oliver. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description ; Such garments and such years : ' The boy is fair. Of female favour, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister ; the woman low And browner than her brother.' Are not you The owners of the house I did enquire for ? Celia. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. 90 Oliver. Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. — Are you he? Rosalind. I am ; what must we understand by this ? Oliver. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkercher was stain'd. Celia. I pray you, tell it. Oliver. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again AS YOU LIKE IT — 8 114 ^s You Like It [Act IV Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, loo f Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell ! He threw his eye aside. And mark what object did present itself! Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair. Lay sleeping on his back ; about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself. Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth. But suddenly, no Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself. And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush, under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch. When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 't is The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. This seen, Orlando did approach the man. And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 120 Celia. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother ; And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd amongst men. ' Oliver, And well he might so do. For well I know he was unnatural. Rosalind. But, to Orlando ; did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ? Oliver. Twice did he turn his back and purpos'd so ; ene III] As You Like It 115 it kindness, nobler ever than revenge, vnd nature, stronger than his just occasion, Made him give battle to the lioness, 130 ^ho quickly fell before him, in which hurtling rom miserable slumber I awak'd. Celia. Are you his brother? Rosalind. Was 't you he rescued? Celia. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? Oliver, 'T was I, but 't is not I ; I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion ,, So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. ' Rosalind. But, for the bloody napkin? Oliver. By and by. When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, 140 As how I came into that desert place, — In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, Committing me unto my brother's love, Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm i The lioness had torn Some flesh away, \ Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted, l'\nd cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. /Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound ; 150 J\ And, after some small space, being strong at heart, '^e sent me hither, stranger as I am, "o tell this story, that you might excuse lis broken promise, and to give this napkin ii6 As You Like It [Act iv Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. [^Rosalind swoons. Celia. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede ! Oliver. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. Celia. There is more in it. — Cousin Ganymede ! Oliver. Look, he recovers. i6o Rosalind. I would I were at home. Celia. We '11 lead you thither. — I pray you, will you take him by the arm? Oliver. Be of good cheer, youth; you a man ! you lack a man's heart. Rosalind. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited ! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. — Heigh-ho ! Oliver. This was not counterfeit ; there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. 170 Rosalind. Counterfeit, I assure you. Oliver. Well then, take a good heart and counter- feit to be a man. Rosalind. So I do j but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. Celia. Come, you look paler and paler ; pray you, draw homewards. — Good sir, go with us. Oliver. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Rosalind. I shall devise something ; but, I pray 180 you, commend my counterfeiting to him. — Will you go? \_Exeunt. v^, ^ S '■'■J <,-f \ <>A.^ _ "l<; > " Here comes a fair of very strange beasts " ACT V Scene I. The Forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey Touchstone. We shall find a time, Audrey ; pa- tience, gentle Audrey. Audrey. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. Touchstone. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. 117 ii8 As You Like It [Act v Audrey. Ay, I know who 't is : he hath no interest in me in the world. Here comes the man you mean. Touchstone. It is meat and drink to me to see a lo clown. By my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for ; we shall be flouting, we cannot hold. Enter William William. Good even, Audrey. Audrey. God ye good even, William. William. And good even to you, sir. Touchstone. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? William. Five and twenty, sir. 20 Touchstone. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? William. William, sir. Touchstone. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? William. Ay, sir, I thank God. Touchstone. Thank God ! — a good answer. Art rich? William. Faith, sir, so-so. Touchstone. So-so is good, very good, very excel- lent good ; and yet it is not, it is but so-so. Art thou 30 wise ? William. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. Touchstone. Why, thou sayest well. I do now re- member a saying, * The fool doth think he is wise, but Scene I] As You Like It 119 the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a : grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 1/ mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid ? William. I do, sir. 40 Touchstone. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? William. No, sir. Touchstone. Then learn this of me : to have, is to have, for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other ; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he. Now, you are not ipse, for I am he. William. Which he, sir? ' Touchstone. He, sir, that must marry this woman. \J Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the vul- 50 gar leave, — the society, — which in the boorish is company, — of this female, — which in the common is woman ; which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou perishest ; or, to thy bet- ter understanding, diest ; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel ; I will bandy with thee in fac- tion, I will o'errun thee with policy, I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble, and 60 depart. Audrey. Do, good William. William. God rest you merry, sir. \_Exit. I20 As You Like It [Act v Enter Corin Corin. Our master and mistress seeks you ; come, away, away ! Touchstone. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey ! — I at- tend, I attend. \_Exeunt. Scene II. The Forest Enter Orlando and Oliver Orlando. Is 't possible that on so little acquaint- ance you should like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? Oliver. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting ; but say with me, I love Aliena ; say with her that she loves me ; consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It shall be to your good ; for ray father's house and all the rev- lo enue that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. Orlando. You have my consent. Let your wed- ding be to-morrow ; thither will I invite the duke and all 's contented followers. Go and prepare Aliena; for look you, here comes my Rosalind. Enter Rosalind Rosalind. God save you, brother. Oliver. And you, fair sister. \_Exit. Scene II] As You Like It 121 Rosalind. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! 20 Oidando. It is my arm. Rosalind. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. 07'lando. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Rosalind. Did your brother tell you how I counter- feited to swoon when he showed me your handkercher? Orlando. Ay, and greater wonders than that. Rosalind. O, I know where you are. Nay, 't is true ; there was never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's thrasonical brag of ' I 30 came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed than they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy ; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incon- tinent. They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together ; clubs cannot part them. 07da7ido. They shall be married to-morrow, and 1 40 will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes ! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. Rosalind. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? 122 As You Like It [Act v Orlando, I can live no longer by thinking. Rosalind. I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some 50 purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are ; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things ; I have, since I was three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture 60 cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her. I know into what straits of fortune she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if it ap- pear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any danger. Orlando. Speakest thou in sober meanings ? Rosalind. By my life, I do, which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best array, bid your friends ; for if you will be 70 married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosahnd, if you will. Enter Silvius and Phebe Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. Phebe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, To show the letter that I writ to you. Scene II] As You Like It 123 Rosalind. I care not if I have ; it is my study To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd ; Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 79 Phebe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 't is to love. Silvius. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; And so am I for Phebe. Phebe. And I for Ganymede. Orlando. And I for Rosahnd. Rosalind. And I for no woman. Silvius. It is to be all made of faith and service ; And so am I for Phebe. Phebe. And I for Ganymede. Orlando. And I for Rosahnd. Rosalind. And I for no woman. 90 Silvius. It is to be all made of fantasy. All made of passion, and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance. All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, All purity, all trial, all obedience ; And so am I for Phebe. Phebe. And so am I for Ganymede. Orlando. And so am I for Rosahnd. Rosalind. And so am I for no woman. Phebe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? 100 Silvius. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? Orlando. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? 124 As You Like It [Act v Rosalind. Why do you speak too, ' Why blame you me to love you ? ' Orlando. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. Rosalind. Pray you, no more of this ; 't is like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. — \To Sil- vitis'] I will help you, if I can. — \_To Phebe\ I would no love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. — \To Phebe\ I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I '11 be married to-morrow. — \To Orla7ido'\ I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow. — \_To Silvius'] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. — \_To Orla?ido~\ As you love Rosahnd, meet; — \_To Silviics~\ as you love Phebe, meet ; — and as I love no woman, I '11 meet. So fare you well ; I have left you commands. 120 Silvius. I '11 not fail, if I live. Fhede. Nor I. Orlando. Nor I. \_Exeunt Scene III. The Forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey Touchstone. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; to-morrow will we be married. Audrey. I do desire it with all my heart j and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come two of the banished duke's pages. Scene III] As You Like It 125 Enter two Pages 1: First Page. Well met, honest gentlemen. ^ Touchstone. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. Second Page. We are for you ; sit i' the middle. 10 First Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, without hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? Second Page. 1 I' faith, i' faith ; and both in a tune, like two gypsies on a horse. .^ SONG // was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. That o''er the green corn-field did pass In spring tifne, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; 20 Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In spiHng time, etc. This carol they began that hour. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In spring time, etc. 126 As You Like It [Act v And therefore take the prese?tt time, 30 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; For love is crowned with the prime In spjHng time, etc. Touchstone. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. First Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time. Totuhstone. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you, and 40 God mend your voices ! — Come, Audrey. \_Exeunt. Scene IV. The Forest Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, and Celia Duke Senior. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? Orlando. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not ; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe Rosalind. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd. — Scene IV] As You Like It 127 You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here ? Duke Senior. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. Rosalind. And you say you will have her when I bring her? Orlando. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. 10 Rosalind. You say you '11 marry me, if I be willing ? Phebe. That will I, should I die the hour after. Rosalind. But if you do refuse to marry me, You '11 give yourself to this most faithful shepherd ? Phebe. So is the bargain. Rosalind. You say that yo«^*ll have Phebe, if she will ? Silvius. Though to have hdr and death were both one thing. Rosalind. I have promis'd to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter ; — You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter — 20 Keep your word, Phebe, that you '11 marry me, Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd. — Keep your word, Silvius, that you '11 marry her, If she refuse me ; — and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even. \_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Duke Senior. I do remember in this shepherd boy Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. Orlando. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter ; 128 As You Like It [Act v But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 30 And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle, Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest. Enter Touchstone and Audrey Jaqiies. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark ! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. Touchstone. Salutation and greeting to you all ! Jaques. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is 40 the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest ; he hath been a courtier, he swears. Toicchstone. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure ; I have flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy ; I have undone three tailors ; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. Jaques. And how was that ta'en up ? Touchstone. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. 50 Jaques, How seventh cause? — Good my lord, like this fellow. Duke Senior. I like him very well. Touchstone. God 'ield you, sir ! I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and forswear, according Scene IV] As You Like It 129 as marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own ^ a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house, 60 as your pearl in your foul oyster. Duke Senior. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touchstone. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. Jaqices. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? Touchstone. Upon a lie seven times removed— - bear your body more seeming, Audrey — as thus, sir., I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard. He 70 sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was ; this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word again it was not well cut, he would send me word he cut it to please him- self; this is called the Quip Modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment ; this is called the Reply Churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true ; this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say I lied ; this is called the Countercheck 80 Quarrelsome : and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. Jaques. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Touchstone. I durst go no further than the Lie Cir- AS YOU LIKE IT — 9 130 As You Like It [Act v cumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct ; and so we measured swords and parted. Jaques. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie ? Touchstone. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, 90 as you have books for good manners. I will name you the degrees : the first, the Retort Courteous ; the sec- ond, the Quip Modest ; the third, the Reply Churhsh ; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant -, the fifth, the Coun- tercheck Quarrelsome ; the sixth, the Lie with Circum- stance ; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct ; and you may avoid that too, with an ' If I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an 'If,' as, 'If 100 you said so, then I s^id so ; ' and they shook hands and swore brothers. ( Your /If is the only peace- maker ; much virtue in ' If.' Jaques. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he 's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. Duke Senior. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind in her proper habit, and Celia. Still Music Hymen. Then is there mirth in heaven, When earthly things made even Atone together. no Scene IV] As You Like It 131 Good duke, receive thy daughter ; Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither. That thou mightst join her hand with his Whose heart within her bosom is. Rosalind. \To Duke'] To you I give myself, for I am yours. — \_To Orlando'] To you I give myself, for I am yours. Duke Senior. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. Orlando. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. Phebe. If sight and shape be true, 120 Why then, my love adieu ! Rosalind. I '11 have no father, if you be not he ; — I '11 have no husband, if you be not he ; — Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. Hymen. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion. 'T is I must make conclusion Of these most strange events ; Here 's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands. If truth holds true contents. 130 You and you no cross shall part ; — You and you are heart in heart ; — You to his love must accord. Or have a woman to your lord j — You and you are sure together. As the winter to foul weather. — 132 As You Like It [Act v Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish. 140 SONG Wedding is great Juno'' s crown ; O blessed bond of board and bed f ^T is Hymen peoples every town ; High wedlock then be honoured I Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town ! Duke Senior. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me ! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. Phebe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 150 Enter Jaques de Boys Jaques de Boys. Let me have audience for a word or two. I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly : Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power, which were on foot. In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here and put him to the sword. Scene IV] As You Like It 133 And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, Where meeting with an old religious man, 160 After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world ; His crown bequeathing to his banish 'd brother. And all their lands restor'd to them again That were with him exil'd. This to be true, I do engage my life. Duke Senior. Welcome, young man; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding : To one his lands withheld, and to the other A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. — First, in this forest let us do those ends 170 That here were well begun and well begot ; And after, every of this happy number That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us Shall share the good of our returned fortune. According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fallen dignity. And fall into our rustic revelry. — Play, music ! — And you, brides and bridegrooms all. With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. Jaques. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, 180 The duke hath put on a rehgious life. And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaques de Boys. He hath. Jaques. To him will I ; out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn' d. — \_To Duke'\ You to your former honour I bequeath; 134 As You Like It [Act v Your patience and your virtue well deserves it — [To Or/ando'] You to a love that your true faith doth merit. — '[To Oliver] You to your land and love and great allies. — \_To Silvius~\ You to a long and well-deserved bed. 190 [Zb Touchstone'] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. — So, to your pleasures ; I am for other than for dancing measures. T)uke Senior. Stay, Jaques, stay. Jaques. To see no pastime I ; what you would have I '11 stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. Duke Senior. Proceed, proceed ; we will begin these rites, As we do trust they '11 end, in true delights. [A dance. Epilogue Rosalind. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue, but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 't is true that a good play needs no epilogue ; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play ! I am not furnished Hke a beg- gar, therefore to beg will not become me ; my way is 10 to conjure you, and I '11 begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men. Scene IV] As You Like It 135 to like as much of this play as please you ; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, — as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them, — that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not ; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces 20 or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. \_Exeunt. NOTES 137 NOTES Introduction The Metre of the Play. — It should be understood at the outset that metre, or the mechanism of verse, is something alto- gether distinct from the music of verse. The one is matter of rule, the other of taste and feeling. Music is not an absolute necessity of verse; the metrical form is a necessity, being that which consti- tutes the verse. The plays of Shakespeare (with the exception of rhymed pas- sages, and of occasional songs and interludes) are all in unrhymed or blank verse ; and the normal form of this blank verse is illus- trated by the first line of verse in the present play (i. 2. 225) : "I would thou hadst been son to some man else " ; or line 230 just below : " But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth." Either line, it will be seen, consists of ten syllables, with the even syllables (2d, 4th, 6th, 8th, and loth) accented, the odd syllables (ist, 3d, etc) being unaccented. Theoretically, it is made up of 139 140 Notes five feei oi two syllables each, with the accent on the second sylla- ble. Such a foot is called an iambus (plural, iambuses, or the Latin iambi), and the form of verse is called iambic. This fundamental law of Shakespeare's verse is subject to certain modifications, the most important of which are as follows : — 1. After the tenth syllable an unaccented syllable (or even two such syllables) may be added, forming what is sometimes called a female line ; as in i. 2. 231 : "I would thou haclst told me of an- other father." The rhythm is complete with the first syllable of father, the second being an extra eleventh syllable. In line 259 : *' I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference," we have two extra syllables, the rhythm being complete with the first syllable of conference. 2. The accent in any part of the verse may be shifted from an even to an odd syllable ; as in lines 241, 243 : — " Let us go thank him and encourage him ; ****** Sticks me at heart. — Sir, you have well deserv'd." In both lines the accent is shifted from the second to the first syl- lable. This change occurs very rarely in the tenth syllable, and seldom in the fourth ; and it is not allowable in two successive ac- cented syllables. 3. An extra unaccented syllable may occur in any part of the line ; as in lines 231 and 242. In 231 the word hadsl is superflu- ous (S. might have written "thou'dst"), and in 242 the second syllable of envious. 4. Any unaccented syllable occurring in an even place immedi- ately before or after an even syllable which is properly accented, is reckoned as accented for the purposes of the verse ; as, for instance, in lines 226 and 227. In 226 the third syllable of honourable, and in 227 the last syllable of enemy, are metrically equivalent to ac- cented syllables. 5. In many instances in Shakespeare words must be lengthened in order to fill out the rhythm : — Notes 141 (a) Iri a large class of words in which e or i is followed by an- other vowel, the e or i is made a separate syllable ; as ocean, opin- ion, soldier, patience, partial, marriage, etc. For instance, the line (i. 3. 77), " Her very silence and her patience," appears to have only nine syllables, but patie7ice (see note on the word) is a trisyllable. In i. 3. 66 and 127, Celia is a trisyllable ; condition is a quadrisyl- lable in i. 2. 265 ; action is a trisyllable in iv. 3. 9, etc. This lengthening occurs most frequently at the end of the line. In ii. 7. 41 of this play (" With observation, the which he vents") we find one of the rare exceptions to this statement, observation having five syllables. ((5) Many monosyllables ending in r, re, rs, res, preceded by a long vowel or diphthong, are often made disyllables ; 2iS fare, fear, dear, fire, hair, hotir, your, etc. In M. of V. iii. 2. 304 : "Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault," hair is a dissyllable. If the word is repeated in a verse, it is often both monosyllable and dissyl- lable ; as in M. of V. iii. 2. 20 ; " And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so," where e\ih.QX yours (preferably the first) is a dissylla- ble, the other being a monosyllable. Iny. C. iii. I. 172 : "As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity," the first yzr^ is a dissyllable. (f) Words containing / or r, preceded by another consonant, are often pronounced as if a vowel came between the consonants ; as in this play, ii. 2. 13 : "The parts and graces of the wrestler" [wrest(e)ler] ; also in T. of S. ii. i. 158 : " While she did call me rascal fiddler" [fidd(e)ler] ; All's Well, iii. 5. 43 •• "If you will tarry, holy pilgrim" [pilg(e)rim] ; C. of E. v. I. 360 : "These are the parents of these children " (childeren, the original form of the word) ; W. T. iv. 4. 76 ; "Grace and remembrance [rememb(e)- rance] be to you both ! " etc. {d) Monosyllabic exclamatiojis {ay, O, yea, nay, hail, etc.) and monosyllables otherwise emphasized are similarly lengthened; also certain longer words; as commandement in M. of V. iv. i. 451 ; safety (trisyllable) in Ham. i. 3. 21 ; business (trisyllable, as origi- nally pronounced) in/. C. iv. i. 22: "To groan and sweat under 142 Notes the business " (so in several other passage^ ; and other words mentioned in the notes to the plays in which they occur. 6. Words are also contracted for metrical reasons, like plurals and possessives ending in a sibilant, as balance, horse (for horses and horse's'), princess, sense, marriage (plural and possessive), image, etc. So sentence (see note on iii. 2. 133), many contracted super- latives {fraiVst in iii. 5. 12, stern' st, secret' st, near'st, kind'st, etc.), and other words mentioned in the notes on this and other plays. 7. The accent of words is also varied in many instances for met- rical reasons. Thus we find both reveitue and revenue in the first scene of the M. N. D. (lines 6 and 158), dbscure and obscure, pursue 3.nd pursue, distinct and distinct, exile and exile (see on ii. I. i), cdnfine and confine (see on ii. i. 24), etc. These instances of variable accent must not be confounded with those in which words were uniformly accented differently in the time of Shakespeare; like aspect (see on iv. 3. 53), impdrtune^ per- sever (nevex persevere), perseverance, rheumatic, etc. 8. Alexandrines, or verses of twelve syllables, with six accents, occur here and there in all the plays. They must not be confounded with female lines with two extra syllables (see on i above) or with other lines in which two extra unaccented syllables may occur. 9. Incomplete verses, of one or more syllables, are scattered through the plays. See i. 2. 290, ii. 3. 15, ii. 7. 11, iii. 5. 138, etc. 10. Doggerel measure is used in the very earliest comedies (Z. L. L. and C. of E. in particular) in the mouths of comic char- acters, but nowhere else in those plays, and never anywhere after 1598 or 1599. There is none in the present play. IT. Rhyme occurs frequently in the early plays, but diminishes with comparative regularity from that period until the latest. Thus, in Z. Z. Z. there are about iioo rhyming verses (about one-third of the whole number), in the M. N. D. about 900, in Rich. II. and R. and J. about 500 each, while in Cor. and A. and C. there are only about 40 each, in the Temp, only two, and in the W. T. none at all, except in the chorus introducing act iv. Songs, interludes, Notes 143 and other matter not in ten-syllable measure are not included in this enumeration. In the present play, out of some 1000 ten- syllable verses, about a hundred are in rhyme. Nearly two-thirds of the play is in prose. Alternate rhymes are found only in the plays written before 1599 or 1600. In this play they occur only in iii. 2. 1-8. In M. of V. we find four lines, and twenty in Much Ado, but none at all in sub- sequent plays. Rkyjfied cotiplets, or " rhyme-tags," are often found at the end of scenes ; as in 8 out of the 22 scenes in the present play. In Ham., 14 out of 20 scenes, and in Macb., 21 out of 28, have such "tags"; but in the latest plays they are not so frequent. The Temp., for instance, has but one, and the W. T. none. *■ 12. In this edition of Shakespeare, the final -ed of past tenses and participles is printed -Vwhen the word is to be pronounced in the ordinary way ; as in pleas' d, line 228, and lov^d, line 236, of the second scene. But when the metre requires that the -ed be made a separate syllable, the e is retained ; as in marked, ii. i. 41, where the word is a dissyllable. The only variation from this rule is in verbs like cry, die, etc., the -ed of which is very rarely, if ever, made a separate syllable. Shakespeare's Use of Verse and Prose in the Plays. — This is a subject to which the critics have given very little atten- tion, but it is an interesting study. In the present play we find scenes entirely in verse or in prose, and others in which the two are mixed. In general, we may say that verse is used for what is dis- tinctly poetical, and prose for what is not poetical. The distinction, however, is not so clearly marked in the earlier as in the later plays. The second scene of the M. of V., for instance, is in prose, because Portia and Nerissa are talking about the suitors in a familiar and playful way; but in the T. G, of V., where Julia and Lucetta are discussing the suitors of the former in much the same fashion, the scene is in verse. Dowden, commenting on Jiich. II., re- marks : " Had Shakespeare written the play a few years later, we 144 Notes may be certain that the gardener and his servants (iii. 4) would not have uttered stately speeches in verse, but vi^ould have spoken homely prose, and that humor vi^ould have mingled w^ith the pathos of the scene. The same remark may be made with refer- ence to the subsequent scene (v. 5) in which his groom visits the dethroned king in the Tower." Comic characters and those in low- life generally speak in prose in the later plays, as Dowden inti- mates, but in the very earliest ones doggerel verse is much used instead. See on 10 above. The change from prose to verse is well illustrated in the third scene of the M. of V. It begins with plain prosaic talk about a business matter; but when Antonio enters, it rises at once to the higher level of poetry. The sight of Antonio reminds Shylock of his hatred of the Merchant, and the passion expresses itself in verse, the vernacular tongue of poetry. We have a similar change in the first scene of /. C, where, after the quibbling " chaff " of the mechanics about their trades, the mention of Pompey reminds t].ie Tribune of their plebeian fickleness, and his scorn and indignation flame out in most eloquent verse. The reasons for the choice of prose or verse are not always so clear as in these instances. We are seldom puzzled to explain the prose, but not unfrequently we meet with verse where we might expect prose. As Professor Corson remarks (^Introduction to Shake- speare, 1889), " Shakespeare adopted verse as the general tenor of his language, and therefore expressed much in verse that is within the capabilities of prose ; in other words, his verse constantly encroaches upon the domain of prose, but his prose can never be said to encroach upon the domain of verse." If in rare instances we think we find exceptions to this latter statement, and prose actually seems to usurp the place of verse, I believe that careful study of the passage will prove the supposed exception to be appar- ent rather than real. Some Books for Teachers and Students. — A few out of the many books that might be commended to the teacher and the Notes 145 critical student are the following: Halliwell-Phillipps's Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare (7th ed. 1887); Sidney Lee's Life of Shakespeare (1898; for ordinary students the abridged ed. of 1899 is preferable); Schmidt's Shakespeare Lexicon (3d ed. 1902); Littledale's ed. of Dyce's Glossary (1902) ; Bartlett's Concordance to Shakespeare (1895); Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (1873); Furness's "New Variorum" edition of As You Like It (1890, en- cyclopaedic and exhaustive); Dowden's Shakspere : His Mind and Art (American ed. 1881); Hudson's Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare (revised ed. 1882); Mrs. Jameson's Characteristics of Wovien (several eds., some with the title, Shakespeare Heroines^ ; Ten Brink's Five Lectures on Shakespeare (1895); Boas's Shake- speare arid His Predecessors (1895); Dyer's Folk-lore of Shake- speare (American ed. 1884); Gervinus's Shakespeare Commentaries (Bunnett's translation, 1875); '^ox^v^ox'Cc^^ Shakespeare's Knowl- edge of the Bible (3d ed. 1880); Elson's Shakespeare in Music (1901). Some of the above books will be useful to all readers who are interested in special subjects or in general criticism of Shakespeare. Among those which are better suited to the needs of ordinary readers and students, the following may be mentioned : Phin's Cyclopcedia and Glossary of Shakespeare (1902, more compact and cheaper than Dyce); Dowden's Shakspere Primer (1877, small but invaluable); Rolfe's Shakespeare the Boy (1896, treating of the home and school life, the games and sports, the manners, customs, and folk-lore of the poet's time) ; Guerber's Myths of Greece and Rome (for young students who may need information on mythological allusions not explained in the notes). Black's Judith Shakespeare (1884, a novel, but a careful study of the scene and the time) is a book that I always commend to young people, and their elders will also enjoy it. The Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare is a classic for beginners in the study of the dramatist ; and in Rolfe's ed. the plan of the authors is carried out in the Notes by copious illustrative quotations from the plays. AS YOU LIKE IT — lO 146 Notes Mrs. Cowden-Clarke's Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines (several eds.) will particularly interest girls ; and both girls and boys will find Bennett's Master Skylark (1897) ^^^ Imogen Clark's Will Shakespeare's Little Lad {\%()^^ equally entertaining and instructive. H. Snowden Ward's Shakespeare' s Town and Times (1896) and John Leyland's Shakespeare Country (1900) are copiously illus- trated books (yet inexpensive) which may be particularly com- mended for school libraries. Abbreviations in the Notes. — The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's plays will be readily understood ; as T. N. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Lien. VL. for The Third Part of King ILenry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim; V. and A. to Venus and Adonis ; L. C. to Lover's Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sonnets. Other abbreviations that hardly need explanation are Cf. {co7ifer, compare), Fol. (following), Ld. {idem, the same), and Prol. (pro- logue). The numbers of the lines in the references (except for the present play) are those of the " Globe " edition (the cheapest and best edition of Shakespeare in one compact volume), which is now generally accepted as the standard for line-numbers in works of ref- erence (Schmidt's Lexicon, Abbott's Grammar, etc.). The Story of the Play as given by Lodge. — The follow- ing extracts from Lodge's novel ^ include the parts chiefly used by Shakespeare : — [" Sir John of Burdeaux," on his death-bed, calls his three sons, Saladyne, Fernandine, and Rosader, and divides his estate among them. To Saladyne he gives "fourteene ploughlands," with his "mannor houses and richest plate"; to Fernandine, "twelve ploughlands"; and to Rosader, his horse, armor, and lance, " with sixteene ploughlands."] 1 1 take these from Halliwell-Phillipps, who reprints the novel in full in his folio ed. I insert the paragraphs in brackets to supply the gaps in the narrative. Notes 147 Act I. Scene I. — Saladyne, " after a months mourning was past, fel to consideration of his fathers testament; how hee had be- queathed more to his yoonger brothers than himselfe, that Rosader was his fathers darling, but now under his tuition, that as yet they were not come to yeares, and he being their gardian, might, if not defraud them of their due, yet make such havocke of theyr legacies and lands, as they should be a great deal the lighter : whereupon he began thus to meditate with himselfe. ... "Thy brother is yoong, keepe him now in awe; make him not checke mate with thy selfe, for, — ' Nimia familiaritas contemptum parit.' Let him know litle, so shall he not be able to execute much : suppresse his wittes with a base estate, and though hee be a gentleman by nature, yet forme him anew, and make him a peasant by nourture. So shalt thou keepe him as a slave, and raigne thy selfe sole lord over all thy fathers possessions. As for Fernandyne, thy middle brother, he is a scholler and hath no minde but on Aristotle : let him reade on Galen while thou riflest with golde, and pore on his booke whilest thou doest purchase landes : witte is great wealth; if he have learning it is enough, and so let all rest. ■■- , . ^^^^■-.. " In this humour was Saladyne, making his brother Rosader his foote boy for the space of two or three yeares, keeping him in such servile subjection, as if he had been the sonne of any country vassal. The young gentleman bare all with patience, til on a day, walking in the garden by himselfe, he began to consider how he was the sonne of John of Bourdeaux, a knight renowmed for many victories, and a gentleman famozed for his vertues; how, contrarie to the testament of his father, hee was not only kept from his land and intreated as a servant, but smothered in such secret slaverie, as hee might not attaine to any honourable actions. Alas, quoth hee to himselfe, nature woorking these effectuall passions, why should I, that am a gentleman borne, passe my time in such un- natural drudgery? were it not better either in Paris to become a scholler, or in the court a courtier, or in the field a souldier, then 148 Notes to live a foote boy to my own brother ? nature hath lent me wit to conceive, but my brother denies mee art to contemplate : I have strength to performe any honorable exployt, but no libertie to accomplish my vertuous indevours : those good partes that God hath bestowed upon mee, the envy of my brother doth smother in obscuritie; the harder is my fortune, and the more his frowardnes. With that, casting up his hand he felt haire on his face, and per- ceiving his beard to bud, for choler hee began to blush, and swore to himselfe he would be no more subject to such slaverie. As he was thus ruminating of his melancholic passions in came Saladyne with his men, and seeing his brother in a browne study, and to forget his wonted reverence, thought to shake him out of his dumps thus. Sirha, quoth he, what is your heart on your halfe- peny, or are you saying a dirge for your fathers soule ? what, is my dinner readie ? At this question Rosader, turning his head ascance, and bending his browes as if anger there had ploughed the furrowes of her wrath, with his eyes full of fire, hee made this replie. Doest thou aske mee, Saladyne, for thy cates ? aske some of thy churles who are fit for suche an office : I am thine equal by nature, though not by birth, and though thou hast more cardes in thy bunch, I have as many trumpes in my handes as thy selfe. Let me question with thee, why thou hast feld my woods, spoyled my manner houses, and made havocke of suche utensalles as my father be- queathed unto mee ? I tell thee, Saladyne, either answere mee as a brother, or I wil trouble thee as an enemie. At this replie of Rosaders Saladyne smiled, as laughing at his presumption, and frowned as checking his folly: he therfore tooke him up thus shortly : What, sirha, wel I see early pricks the tree that wil proove a thorne : hath my familiar conversing with you made you coy, or my good lookes drawne you to be thus contemptuous ? I can quickly remedie such a fault, and I wil bend the tree while it is a wand. In faith, sir boy, I have a snaffle for such a headstrong colt. You, sirs, lay holde on him and binde him, and then I wil give him a cooling carde for his choller. This made Rosader halfe mad, Notes 149 that stepping to a great rake that stood in the garden, hee laide such loade uppon his brothers men that hee hurt some of them, and made the rest of them run away. Saladyne seeing Rosader so resolute, and with his resokition so valiant, thought his heeles his best safetie, and tooke him to a loaft adjoyning to the garden, whether Rosader pursued him hotly. Saladine, afraide of his brothers furie, cried out to him thus : Rosader, be not so rash : I am thy brother and thine elder, and if I have done thee wrong ile make thee amendes. . . . " These wordes appeased the choller of Rosader, for he was of a milde and curteous nature, so that hee layde downe his weapons, and upon the faith of a gentleman assured his brother hee would offer him no prejudice : whereupon Saladyne came down, and after a little parley, they imbraced cache other and became friends. . . . Thus continued the pad hidden in the strawe, til it chaunced that Torismond, king of France, had appointed for his pleasure a day of wrastling and of tournament to busie his commons heades, least, being idle, their thoughts should runne uppon more serious matters, and call to remembrance their old banished king. A champion there was to stand against all commers, a Norman, a man of tall stature and of great strength; so valiant, that in many such con- flicts he alwaies bare away the victorie, not onely overthrowing them which hee incountred, but often with the weight of his bodie killing them outright. Saladyne hearing of this, thinking now not to let the ball fal to the ground, but to take opportunitie by the forehead, first by secret meanes convented with the Norman, and procured him with rich rewards to sweare, that if Rosader came within his clawes hee would never more returne to quarrel with Saladyne for his possessions. The Norman desirous of pelfe, as, quis nisi vientis inops oblaium respuit auru^n, taking great gifts for litle gods, tooke the crownes of Saladyne to performe the strata- gem. Having thus the champion tied to his vilanous determination by oath, hee prosecuted the intent of his purpose thus : — He went to yoong Rosader, who in all his thoughts reacht at honour, and 150 Notes gazed no lower then vertue commanded him, and began to tel him of this tournament and wrastling, how the king should be there and all the chiefe peeres of France, with all the beautiful damosels of the countrey. Now, brother, quoth hee, for the honor of Sir John of Bourdeaux, our renowmed father, to famous that house that never hath bin found without men approoved in chivalrie shewe thy resolution to be peremptorie. For myselfe thou knowest though I am eldest by birth, yet never having attempted any deedes of armes, I am yongest to performe any martial exploytes, knowing better how to survey my lands then to charge my launce : my brother Fernandyne hee is at Paris poring on a fewe papers, having more insight into sophistrie and principles of philosophic, then anie warlyke indeveurs; but thou, Rosader, the youngest in yeares but the eldest in valour, art a man of strength, and darest doo what honour allowes thee. Take thou thy fathers launce, his sword, and his horse, and hye thee to the tournament, and either there valiantly cracke a speare, or trie with the Norman for the palme of activitie. The words of Saladyne were but spurres to a free horse, for hee had scarce uttered them ere Rosader tooke him in his armes, taking his proffer so kindly that hee promised in what hee might to requite his curtesie. ... Scene II. — "But leaving him so desirous of the journey, turn we to Torismond, the king of France, who having by force banished Gerismond, their lawful king, that lived as an outlaw in the forest of Arden, sought now by all meanes to keep the French busied with all sports that might breed their content. Amongst the rest he had appointed this solemne turnament, wherunto hee in most solemne maner resorted, accompanied with the twelve peers of France, who, rather for fear then love, graced him with the shew of their dutiful favours. To feede their eyes, and to make the beholders pleased with the sight of most rare and glistring objects, he had appoynted his owne daughter Alinda to be there, and the fair Rosalynd, daughter unto Gerismond, with al the beautifull damoselles that were famous for their features in all France. . . . Notes 151 " At last when the tournament ceased, the wrastling beganne, and the Norman presented himselfe as a chalenger against all commers, but hee looked lyke Hercules when he advaunst himselfe agaynst Acheloiis, so that the furie of his countenance amazed all that durst attempte to incounter with him in any deed of activitie : til at last a lustie Francklin of the country came with two tall men, that were his sonnes, of good lyniaments and comely personage : the eldest of these, dooing his obeysance to the king, entered the lyst, and pre- sented himselfe to the Norman, who straight coapt with him, and as a man that would triumph in the glorie of his strength, roused himselfe with such furie, that not onely hee gave him the fall, but killed him with the weight of his corpulent personage; which the younger brother seeing, lepte presently into the place, and thirstie after the revenge, assayled the Norman with such valour, that at the first incounter hee brought him to his knees : which repulst so the Norman, that recovering himselfe, feare of disgrace doubling his strength, hee stept so stearnely to the yoong Francklin, that taking him up in his armes hee threw him against the grounde so violently, that hee broake his necke, and so ended his dayes with his brother. . . . " With that Rosader vailed bonnet to the king, and lightly leapt within the lists, where noting more the companie then the comba- tant, he cast his eye upon the troupe of ladies that glistered there lyke the starres of heaven ; but at last Love willing to make him as amourous as he was valiant, presented him with the sight of Rosalynd, whose admirable beauty so inveagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting himselfe, hee stood and fedde his lookes on the favour of Rosalyndes face ; which shee perceiving, blusht, which was such a doubling of her beauteous excellence, that the bashful redde of Aurora at the sight of unacquainted Phaeton was not halfe so glorious. The Normane, seeing this young gentleman fettered in the lookes of the ladyes, drave him out of his memento with a shake by the shoulder. Rosader looking backe with an angrie frowne, as if hee had been wakened from some pleasaunt dreame, discovered 1^2 Notes to all by the furye of his countenance that hee was a man of some high thoughts : but when they all noted his youth, and the sweet- nesse of his visage, with a general applause of favours, they grieved that so goodly a yoong man should venture in so base an action : but seeing it were to his dishonour to hinder him from his enter- prise, they wisht him to bee graced with the palme of victorie. After Rosader was thus called out of his memento by the Norman, he roughly clapt to him with so fierce an incounter, that they both fel to the ground, and with the violence of the fal were forced to breathe : in which space the Norman called to minde by all tokens, that this was hee whome Saladyne had appoynted him to kil; which conjecture, made him stretch every limbe, and try every sinew, that working his death hee might recover the golde which so bountifully was promised him. On the contrary part, Rosader while he breathed was not idle, but stil cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to incourage him with a favour, lent him such an amorous looke, as might have made the most coward desperate: which glance of Rosalynd so fiered the passionate desires of Rosader, that turning to the Norman, hee ranne upon him and braved him with a strong encounter. The Norman received him as valiantly, that there was a sore combat, hard to judge on whose side fortune would be prodigal. At last Rosader, calling to minde the beautie of his new mistresse, the fame of his fathers honours, and the disgrace that should fal to his house by his misfortune, rowsed himselfe, and threw the Norman against the ground, falling uppon his chest with so willing a weight, that the Norman yielded nature her due, and Rosader the victorie." Scene III. — Torismond " thought to banish her [Rosalynd] from the court : for, quoth he to himselfe, her face is so ful of favour, that it pleades pittie in the eye of every man : her beauty is so heavenly and devine, that she wil prove to me as Helen did to Priam : some one of the peeres wil ayme at her love, and the marriage, and then in his wives right attempt the kingdome. To prevent therefore had-I-wist in all these actions, shee tarryes not Notes 153 about the court, but shall, as an exile, eyther wander to her father, or else seeke other fortunes. In this humour, with a sterne coun- tenance ful of wrath, he breathed out this censure unto her before the peers, that charged her that that night shee were not scene about the court : for, quoth he, I have heard of thy aspiring speeches, and intended treasons. This doome was strange unto Rosalynd, and presently covred with the shield of her innocence, she boldly brake out in reverent tearms to have cleared herself ; but Torismond would admit of no reason, nor durst his lords plead for Rosalynd, although her beauty had made some of them passionate, seeing the figure of wrath pourtrayed in his brow. Standing thus all mute, and Rosalynd amazed, Alinda, who loved her more than herself, with grief in her hart and teares in her eyes, falling down on her knees, began to intreat her father thus." [Then follows "Alindas Oration to her Father in Defence of faire Rosalynde," the result of which is that Alinda is included in the sentence against Rosalynd.] " At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after shee had wept a fewe kind teeres in the bosome of her Alinda, . . . they sat them downe to consult how they should travel. AHnda grieved at nothing but that they might have no man in their company, saying it would bee their greatest prejudice in that two women went, wandring without either guide or attendant. Tush, quoth Rosalynd, art thou a woman, and hast not a sodeine shift to prevent a misfortune ? I, thou seest, am of a tall stature, and would very wel become the person and apparel of a page : thoushal bee mye mistresse, and I wil play the man so properly, that, trust me, in what company so ever I come I wil not be discovered. I wil buy me a suite, and have my rapier very handsomly at my side, and if any knave offer wrong, your page will shew him the poynt of his weapon. At this AHnda smiled, and upon this they agreed, and presently gathered up al their jewels, which they trussed up in a casket, and Rosalynd in all hast provided her of robes, and Alinda, from her royall weedes, put herselfe in more homelie attire. Thus 154 Notes fitted to the purpose, away goe these two friends, having now changed their names, Alinda being called Aliena, and Rosalynd, Ganimede, they travelled along the vineyardes, and by many by- waies, at last got to the forrest side, where they travelled by the space of two or three dayes without seeing anye creature, being often in danger of wilde beasts, and payned with many passionate sorrowes." . . . [They found verses written on the trees, but they were the " pas- sion" of Montanus, the Silvius of Shakespeare; and then they con- tinued their journey until " comming into a faire valley, compassed with mountaines, whereon grew many pleasaunt shrubbes, they might descrie where two flockes of sheepe did feed."] Act II. Scene IV. — "Then, looking about, they might per- ceive where an old shepheard [Montanus] sate, and with him a yoong swaine [Coridon], under a covert most pleasantly scitu- ated. . . . " The shepheards having thus ended their Eglogue,^ Aliena stept with Ganimede from behind the thicket; at whose sodayne sight the shepheards arose, and Aliena saluted them thus : Shepheards, all haile, for such wee deeme you by your flockes, and lovers, good lucke, for such you seeme by your passions, our eyes being wit- nesse of the one, and our eares of the other. Although not by love, yet by fortune, I am a distressed gentlewoman, as sorrowfull as you are passionate, and as full of woes as you of perplexed thoughts. Wandring this way in a forrest unknown, onely I and my page, wearied with travel, would faine have some place of rest. May you appoint us any place of quiet harbour, be it never so meane, I shall bee thankfuU to you, contented in my selfe, and gratefull to whoso- ever shall be mine host. Coridon, hearing the gentlewoman speake so courteously, returned her mildly and reverently this answerc. — Faire mistresse, wee returne you as hearty a welcome as you gave us a courteous salute. A shepheard I am, and this a lover, as watchful 1 The " Eglogue " is a dialogue of thirty-four stanzas of four lines each. Notes 155 to please his wench as to feed his sheep : ful of fancies, and there- fore, say I, full of follyes. Exhort him I may, but perswade him I cannot ; for love admits neither of counsaile nor reason. But leaving him to his passions, if you be distrest, I am sorrowfull such a faire creature is crost with calamitie : pray for you I may, but releeve you I cannot. Marry, if you want lodging, if you vouch to shrowd your selves in a shepheards cottage, my house for this night shall be your harbour. Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and presently sate her downe and Ganimede by hir, Coridon looking earnestly upon her, and with a curious survey viewing all her perfections applauded, in his thought, her excellence, and pitying her distresse was desir- ous to heare the cause of her misfortunes, began to question with her thus. — If I should not, faire Damosell, occasionate offence, or renew your griefs by rubbing the scar, I would faine crave so much favour as to know the cause of your misfortunes, and why, and whither you wander with your page in so dangerous forest ? Aliena, that was as courteous as she was fayre, made this replie. Shepheard, a friendly demaund ought never to be offensive, and questions of curtesie carry priviledged pardons in their forheads. Know, there- fore, to discover my fortunes were to renew my sorrowes, and I should, by discoursing my mishaps, but rake fire out of the cynders. Therefore let this suffice, gentle shepheard : my distress is as great as my travaile is dangerous, and I wander in this forrest to light on some cotage where I and my page may dwell : for I meane to buy some farme, and a flocke of sheepe, and so become a shepheard- esse, meaning to live low, and content mee with a countrey life; for I have heard the swaines saye, that they drunke without suspition, and slept without care. Marry, mistress, quoth Coridon, if you meane so you came in good time, for my landlord intends to sell both the farme I tyll, and the flocke I keepe, and cheape you may have them for ready money: and for a shepheards life, oh mis- tres, did you but live a while in their content, you would say the courl were rather a place of sorrow then of solace. Here, mis- tresse, shal not fortune thwart you, but in mean misfortunes, as the 156 Notes losse of a few sheepe, which, as it breedes no beggery, so it can bee no extreame prejudice, the next yeare may mend all with a fresh in- crease. Envy stirres not us, we covet not to climbe, our desires mount not above our degrees, nor our thoughts above our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our cottages, nor doe our homely couches know broken slumbers : as wee exceed not in dyet, so we have inough to satisfie : and, mistresse, I have so much Latin, satis est quod sufficit. By my troth, shepheard, quoth Aliena, thou makest mee in love with thy countrey life, and therfore send for thy landslord, and I will buy thy farme and thy flocks, and thou shalt still under me bee overseer of them both : onely for pleasure sake I and my page will serve you, lead the flocks to the field and folde them. Thus will I live quiet, unknowne, and contented. This newes so gladded the hart of Coridon, that he should not be put out of his farme, that putting off his shepheards bonnet, he did hir all the reverence that he might. But all this while sate Montanus in a muse, thinking of the crueltie of his Phoebe, whom he wooed long, but was in no hope to win. Ganimede, who stil had the remem- brance of Rosader in his thoughtes, tooke delight to see the poore shepheard passionate, laughing at love, that in all his actions was so imperious. At last, when she had noted his teares that stole down his cheeks, and his sighes that broke from the center of his heart, pittying his lament, she demanded of Coridon why the yong shepheard looked so sorrowful? Oh sir, quoth he, the boy is in love. . . . " With this they were at Coridon's cottage, where Montanus parted from them, and they went in to rest. Aliena and Ganimede, glad of so contented a shelter, made merry with the poore swaine; and though they had but countrey fare and course lodging, yet their welcome was so greate, and their cares so little, that they counted their diet delicate, and slept as soundly as if they had beene in the court of Torismond. The next morne they lay long in bed, as wearyed with the toyle of unaccustomed travaile ; but assoone as they got up, Aliena resolved there to set up her rest, and by the Notes 157 helpe of Goridon swapt a bargaine with his landslord, and so became mistres of the farme and the flocke, her selfe putting on the attyre of a shepherdesse, and Ganimede of a yong swaine ; everye day leading foorth her flockes, with such delight, that she held her exile happy, and thoght no content to the blisse of a countrey cottage." . . . [Meanwhile Rosader, driven _frpm home.,by;,iheJiaxshne5S M„k^^^ brother, takes with him his father's old servant, Adam Spencer, and makes for the forest of Arden.] Scene VI. — " BufKosader and Adam, knowing full well the secret waies that led through the vineyards, stole away privily through the province of Bordeaux, and escaped safe to the forrest of Arden. Being come thether, they were glad they had so good a harbour : but fortune, who is like the camelion, variable with every object, and constant in nothing but inconstancie, thought to make them myr- rours of her mutabilitie, and therefore still crost them thus contra- rily. Thinking still to passe on by the bywaies to get to Lions, they chanced on a path that led into the thicke of the forrest, where they wandred five or sixe dayes without meate, that they were almost famished, finding neither shepheard nor cottage to relieve them ; and hunger growing on so extreame, Adam Spencer, being olde, began to faint, and sitting him downe on a hill, and looking about him, espied where Rosader laye as feeble and as ill per- plexed : which sight made him shedde teares. . . . " As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he looked ear- nestly on Rosader, and seeing him chaunge colour, hee rose up and went to him, and holding his temples, said, What cheere, maister ? though all faile, let not the heart faint : the courage of a man is shewd in the resolution of his death. At these wordes Rosader lifted up his eye, and looking on Adam Spencer, began to weep. Ah, Adam, quoth he, I sorrow not to dye, but I grieve at the maner of my death. Might I with my launce encounter the enemy, and so die in the field, it were honour, and content : might I, Adam, combate with some wilde beast, and perish as his praie, I were satis- 158 Notes fied ; but to die with hunger, O, Adam, it is the extreamest of all extreames ! Maister, quoth he, you see we are both in one predica- ment, and long I cannot live without meate; seeing therefore we can finde no foode, let the death of the one preserve the life of the other. I am old, and overworne with age, you are yoong, and are the hope of many honours : let me then dye, I will presently cut my veynes, and, maister, with the warme blood relieve your fainting spirites : sucke on that til I ende, and you be comforted. With that Adam Spencer was ready to pull out his knife, when Rosader, full of courage, though verie faint, rose up, and wisht Adam Spencer to sit there til his returne ; for my mind gives me, quoth he, that I shall bring thee meate. With that, like a mad man, he rose up, and raunged up and downe the woods, seeking to encounter some wilde beaste with his rapier, that either he might carry his friend Adam food, or else pledge his life in pawn for his loyaltie. Scene VII. — "It chaunced that day, that Gerismond, the lawfull king of France banished by Torismond, who with a lustie crue of outlawes lived in that forest, that day in honour of his birth made a feast to all his bolde yeomen, and frolickt it with store of wine and venison, sitting all at a long table under the shadow of lymon trees. To that place by chance fortune conducted Rosader, who seeing such a crue of brave men, having store of that for want of which hee and Adam perished, hee stept boldly to the boords end, and saluted the company thus : — Whatsoever thou be that art maister of these lustie squiers, I salute thee as graciously as a man in extreame distresse may : know that I and a fellow friend of mine are here famished in the forrest for want of food : perish wee must, unlesse relieved by thy favours. Therefore, if thou be a gentleman, give meate to men, and to such men as are everie way woorthie of life. Let the proudest squire that sits at thy table rise and incounter with mee in any honorable point of activitie whatsoever, and if hee and thou proove me not a man, send me away comfortlesse. If thou refuse this, as a niggard of thy cates, I will have amongst you with my sword j for rather wil I dye valiantly, then perish with so Notes 159 cowardly an extreame. Gerismond, looking him earnestly in the face, and seeing so proper a gentleman in so bitter a passion, was moved with so great pitie, that rising from the table, he tooke him by the hand and badde him welcome, willing him to sit downe in his place, and in his roome not onely to eat his fill, but be lorde of the feast. Grammercy, sir, quoth Rosader, but I have a feeble friend that lyes hereby famished almost for food, aged and there- fore lesse able to abide the extremitie of hunger than my selfe, and dishonour it were for me to taste one crumme, before I made him partner of my fortunes : therefore I will runne and fetch him, and then I will gratefully accept of your proffer. Away hies Rosader to Adam Spencer, and tels him the newes, who was glad of so hap- pie fortune, but so feeble he was that he could not go ; whereupon Rosader got him up on his backe, and brought him to the place. Which when Gerismond and his men saw, they greatly applauded their league of friendship ; and Rosader, having Gerismond's place assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but set downe Adam Spencer. . . . Act III. Scene I. — " The flight of Rosader came to the eares of Torismond, who hearing that Saladyne was sole heire of the landes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, desirous to possesse suche fair erevenewes, found just occasion to quarrell with Saladyne about the wrongs he proffered to his brother ; and therefore, dispatching a herehault, he sent for Saladyne in all poast haste : who, marvelling what the mat- ter should be, began to examine his owne conscience, wherein hee had offended his highnesse ; but imboldened with his innocence, he boldly went vnth the herehault unto the court ; where, assoone as hee came, hee was not admitted into the presence of the king, but presently sent to prison. ... "In the depth of his passion, hee was sent for to the king, who, with a looke that threatened death entertained him, and demaunded of him where his brother was ? Saladyne made answer, that upon some ryot made against the sherifife of the shire, he was fled from Bordeaux, but he knew not whither. Nay, villaine, quoth he, I i6o Notes have heard of the wronges thou hast proffered thy brother, since the death of thy father and by thy means have I lost a most brave and resokite chevaher. Therefore, in justice to punish thee, I spare thy life for thy father's sake, but banish thee for ever from the court and countrey of France ; and see thy departure be within tenne dayes, els trust me thou shalt loose thy head. And with that the king flew away in a rage, and left poore Saladyne greatly perplexed ; who grieving at his exile, yet determined to bear it with patience, and in penaunce of his former follies to travaile abroade in every coast till he had found out his brother Rosader." . . . [Meanwhile, " Rosader, beeing thus preferred to the place of a forrester by Gerismond, rooted out the remembrance of his brothers unkindnes by continuall exercise, traversing the groves and wilde forrests. . . . Yet whatsoever he did, or howsoever he walked, the lively image of Rosalynde remained in memorie." At length he meets Ganimede and Aliena.] Scene II. — " Ganimede, pittying her Rosader, thinking to drive him out of this amorous melancholy, said, that now the sunne was in his meridionall heat, and that it was high noone, therefore wee shep- heards say, tis time to go to dinner; for the sunne and our stomackes are shepheards dials. Therefore, forrester, if thou wilt take such fare as comes out of our homely scrips, welcome shall answere whatso- ever thou wantest in delicates. Aliena tooke the entertainment by the ende, and tolde Rosader hee should bee her guest. He thankt them heartily, and sat with them downe to dinner, where they had such cates as countrey state did allow them, sawst with such con- tent, and such sweete prattle, as it seemed farre more sweet than all their courtly junkets. Assone as they had taken their repast, Rosader, giving them thankes for his good cheare, would have been gone; but Ganimede, that was loath to let him passe out of her presence, began thus : Nay, forrester, quoth she, if thy busines be not the greater, seeing thou saist thou art so deeply in love, let me see how thou canst wooe : I will represent Rosalynde, and thou shalt bee as thou art, Rosader. See in some amorous eglogue, how Notes i6i if Rosalyrid were present, how thou couldst court her; and while we sing of love, Aliena shall tune her pipe and plaie us melodic^ . . . " And thereupon, quoth Aliena, He play the priest : from this daye forth Ganimede shall call thee husband, and thou shalt cal Ganimede wife, and so weele have a marriage. Content, quoth Rosader, and laught. Content, quoth Ganimede, and chaunged as red as a rose : and so with a smile and a blush, they made up this jesting match, that after proved to be a marriage in earnest, Rosader full little thinking hee had wooed and wonne his Rosa- lynde. . . . Act IV. Scene III. — " All this while did poore Saladyne, ban- ished from Bourdeahx and the court of France, by Torismond, wander up and downe in the forrest of Arden, thinking to get to Lyons, and so travail through Germany into Italic : but the forrest beeing full of by-pathes, and he unskilfull of the country coast, slipt out of the way, and chaunced up into the desart, not farre from the place where Gerismond was, and his brother Rosader. Saladyne, wearie with wandring up and downe, and hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruite as the for- rest did affoord, and contenting himselfe with such drinke as nature had provided and thirst made delicate, after his repast he fell into a dead sleepe. As thus he lay, a hungry lyon came hunting downe the edge of the grove for pray, and espying Saladyne began to ceaze upon him : but seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him, for that lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses; and yet desirous to have some foode, the lyon lay downe, and watcht to see if he would stirre. While thus Saladyne slept secure, fortune that was careful of her champion began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that Rosader, having stricken a deere that but slightly hurt fled through the thicket, came pacing downe by the grove with a boare-speare in his hande in great haste. He espyed where 1 "The wooing Eglogue betwixt Rosalynde and Rosader," which follows, is too long for quotation, and besides, Shakespeare appears to have made no use of it. AS YOU LIKE IT — II 1 62 Notes a man lay a sleepe, and a lyon fast by him : amazed at this sight, as he stoode gazing, his nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his. Whereuppon drawing more nigh, he might easily discerne his visage, perceived by his phisnomie that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed at the sight of so un- expected a chance, marvelling what should drive his brother to traverse those secrete desarts, without any companie, in such dis- tressed and forlorne sorte. But the present time craved no such doubting ambages, for he must eyther resolve to hazard his life for his reliefe, or else steale away, and leave him to the crueltie of the lyon. . . . " With that his brother began to stirre, and the lyon to rowse himselfe, whereupon Rosader sodainly charged him with the boare speare, and wounded the lyon very sore at the first stroke. The beast feeling himselfe to have a mortall hurt, leapt at Rosader, and with his pawes gave him such a sore pinch on the brest, that he had almost fain; yet as a man most valiant, in whom the sparks of Sir John of Bourdeaux remained, he recovered himselfe, and in short combat slew the lion, who at his death roared so lowd that Saladyne awaked, and starting up, was amazed at the sudden sight of so monstrous a beast lying slaine by him, and so sweet a gentle- man wounded. " Saladyne casting up his eye, and noting well the phisnomy of the forrester, knew that it was his brother Rosader, which made him so bash and blush at the first meeting, that Rosader was faine to recomfort him, which he did in such sort, that hee shewed how highly he held revenge in scorne. Much ado there was betweene these two brethren, Saladyne in craving pardon, and Rosader in forgiving and forgetting all former injuries; the one humble and submisse, the other milde and curteous; Saladyne penitent and passionate, Rosader kynd and loving, that at length nature working an union of their thoughts, they earnestly embraced, and fell from matters of unkindnesse, to talke of the country life, which Rosader Notes 163 so highly commended, that his brother began to have a desire to taste of that homely content. In this humor Rosader conducted him to Gerismonds lodge, and presented his brother to the king, discoursing the whole matter how all had hapned betwixt them. . . . Assoone as they had taken their repast, and had wel dined, Rosader tooke his brother Saladyne by the hand, and shewed him the pleasures of the forrest, and what content they enjoyed in that mean estate. Thus for two or three dayes he walked up and downe with his brother to shew him all the commodities that belonged to his walke; during which time hee was greatly mist of his Ganymede, who mused much with Aliena what should become of their forrester. Act III, Scene V. — " With this Ganimede made her ready, and went into the fields with Aliena, where -unfolding their flockes, they sate them downe under an olive tree, both of them amorous, and yet diversely affected, Aliena joying in the excellence of Saladyne,^ and Ganimede sorowing for the wounds of her Rosader ; not quiet in thought till shee might heare of his health. As thus both of them sate in their dumpes, they might espie where Coridon came running towards them, almost out of breath with his hast. What nevves with you, quoth Aliena, that you come in such post? Oh, mistres, quoth Coridon, you have a long time desired to see Phoebe, the faire shepheardesse whom Montanus loves ; so now if you please, you and Ganimede, to walk with mee to yonder thicket, there shall you see Montanus and her sitting by a fountaine, he courting her with her countrey ditties, and she as coy as if she held love in dis- daine. The newes were so welcome to the two lovers, that up they 1 " An incident in the novel, which accounts for the sudden falling in love of Saladyne and Aliena, is altogether omitted by Shakespeare. A band of robbers attempt to carry off Aliena, Rosader encounters them single-handed, but is wounded and almost overpowered, when his brother comes to the rescue. While Ganimede is dressing Rosader's wounds, Aliena and Saladyne indulge in some ' quirkes and quiddities of love,' the course of which is told with considerable detail. Aliena's secret is soon extorted from her by Ganimede " (Wright). 164 Notes rose, and went with Coridon. Assoone as they drew nigh the thicket, they might espie where Phoebe sate, the fairest shepherdesse in all Arden, and he the frolickest swaine in the whole forrest, she in a petticote of scarlet, covered with a green mantle, and to shrowd her from the sunne, a chaplet of roses, from under which appeared a face full of natures excellence, and two such eyes as might have amated a greater man than Montanus. At gaze uppon this gor- geous nymph sate the shepheard, feeding his eyes with her favours, wooing with such piteous lookes, and courting with such deepe strained sighs, as would have made Diana her selfe to have been compassionate. . . . Ah, Phoebe, quoth he, whereof art thou made, that thou regardest not my maladie? ... At these wordes she fild her face full of frowns, and made him this short and sharpe reply. — Importunate shepheard, whose loves are lawlesse, because restlesse, are thy passions so extreame that thou canst not conceale them with patience? . . . Wert thou, Montanus, as faire as Paris, as hardy as Hector, as constant as Troylus, as loving as Lea;nder, Phoebe could not love, because she cannot love at all : and therefore if thou pursue me with Phoebus I must flie with Daphne. Gani- mede, overhearing all these passions of Montanus, could not brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but starting from behind the bush said ; And if, damzell, you fled from mee, I would transforme you as Daphne to a bay, and then in contempt trample your branches under my feet. Phoebe at this sodaine replye was amazed, especially when shee saw so faire a swaine as Ganimede ; blushing therefore, she would have bene gone, but that he held her by the hand, and prosecuted his reply thus: What, shepheardesse, so faire and so cruell? Disdaine beseemes not cottages, nor coynesse maids; for either they be con- demned to be too proud, or too froward . . . Love while thou art yoong, least thou be disdained when thou art olde. Beautie nor time cannot be recalde, and if thou love, like of Montanus; for if his desires are many, so his deserts are great. Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection of Ganimede, as deeply enamored on his perfection as Montanus inveigled with hers. . . . Notes 165 Act V. Scene II. — "I am glad, quoth Ganimede,^ you looke into your own faults, and see where your shoo wrings you,. measuring now the pains of Montanus by your owne passions. Truth, q. Phoebe, and so deeply I repent me of my frowardnesse towards the shep- heard, that could I cease to love Ganimede, I would resolve to like Montanus. What if I can with reason perswade Phoebe to mislike of Ganimede, wil she than favour Montanus ? When reason, quoth she, doth quench that love that I doe owe to thee, then will I fancie him; conditionally, that if my love can bee supprest with no reason, as being without reason, Ganimede will onely wed himselfe to Phoebe. I graunt it, faire shepheardesse, quoth he; and to feed thee M'ith the sweetnesse of hope, this resolve on : I wil never marry my selfe to woman but unto thy selfe. . . . Ganimede tooke his leave of Phoebe and departed, leaving her a contented woman, and Montanus highly pleased. ... As she came on the plaines, shee might espy where Rosader and Saladyne sat with Aliena under the shade. ... I had not gone abroad so soone, quoth Rosader, but that I am bidden to a marriage, which, on Sunday next, must bee solemnpnized betweene my brother and Aliena. I see well where love leads delay is loathsome, and that small wooing serves where both the parties are willing. Truth, quoth Ganimede; but what a happy day should it be, if Rosader that day might be married to Rosalynd. Ah, good Ganimede, quoth he, by naming Rosalynd, renue not my sorrowes; for the thought of her perfec- tions is the thrall of my miseries. Tush, bee of good cheare, man, quoth Ganimede : I have a friend that is deeply experienst in negromancy and magicke; what art can do shall be acted for thine advantage. I wil cause him to bring in Rosalynde, if either France or any bordring nation harbour her; and upon that take the faith of a yoong shepheard. . . . Scene IV. — "In these humors the weeke went away, that at last Sunday came. ... As they were thus drinking and ready to 1 This is at an interview with Phoebe after the latter has sent a letter to Ganimede by Montanus. 1 66 Notes go to church, came in Montanus, apparalled all in tawny, to signifie that he was forsaken : on his head hee wore a garland of willow, his bottle hanged by his side, whereon was painted dispaire, and on his sheephooke hung two sonnets, as labels of his loves and fortunes. . . . Gerismond, desirous to prosecute the ende of these passions, called in Ganimede, who, knowing the case, came in graced with such a blush, as beautified the christall of his face with a ruddie brightnesse. The king noting well the phisnomy of Ganimede, began by his favour to cal to mind the face of his Rosa- lynd, and with that fetcht a deepe sigh. Rosader, that was passing familiar with Gerismond, demanded of him why he sighed so sore ? Because, Rosader, quoth hee, the favour of Ganimede puts mee in minde of Rosalynde. At this word Rosader sighed so deeply, as though his heart would have burst. And whats the matter, quoth Gerismond, that you quite mee with such a sigh ? Pardon me, sir, quoth Rosader, because I love none but Rosalynd. And upon that condition, quoth Gerismond, that Rosalynd were here, I would this day make up a marriage betwixt her and thee. At this Aliena turnd her head and smilde upon Ganimede, and shee could scarce keep countenance. Yet shee salved all with secrecie; and Geris- mond, to drive away his dumpes, questioned with Ganimede, what the reason was he regarded not Phoebes love, seeing she was as faire as the wanton that brought Troy to ruine ? Ganimede mildly answered, If I shuld affect the faire Phoebe, I should offer poore Montanus great wrong to winne that from him in a moment, that hee hath labored for so many monthes. Yet have I promised to the bewtiful shepheardesse to wed my selfe never to woman except unto her; but with this promise, that if I can by reason suppresse Phoebes love towards me, she shall like of none but of Montanus. To that, quoth Phoebe, I stand; for my love is so far beyond reason, as wil admit no persuasion of reason. For justice, quoth he, I appeale to Gerismond: and to his censure wil I stand, quoth Phoebe. And in your victory, quoth Montanus, stands the hazard of my fortunes, for if Ganimede go away with conquest, Montanus Notes 167 is in conceit loves monarch : if Phoebe winne, then am I in effect most miserable. We wil see this controversie, quoth Gerismond, and then we will to church : therefore, Ganimede, let us heare your argument. Nay, pardon my absence a while, quoth shee, and you shall see one in store. In went Ganimede and drest her self in womans attire, having on a gowne of greene, with a kirtle of rich sandall, so quaint, that she seemed Diana triumphing in the for- rest : upon her head she wore a chaplet of roses, which gave her such a grace that she looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of all her floures. Thus attired came Rosalind in, and presented hir self at hir fathers feete, with her eyes full of teares, craving his blessing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes, how shee was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived in that country dis- guised. ... ^ " While every one was amazed, . . . Coridon came skipping in, and told them that the priest was at church, and tarried for their comming. With that Gerismond led the way, and the rest followed; where to the admiration of all the countrey swains in Arden, their marriages were solemnly solemnized." ... It will be seen, that while the Poet followed the novel closely in the main incidents of his plot, the characterization is exclusively his own. The personages common to the novel and the play are as truly new creations in the latter as Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey, who have no place in the former. Even the deviations in the conduct of the story, as Knight remarks, "furnish a most remarkable example of the wonderful superiority of his art as com- pared with the art of other men." We cannot discuss these in detail; the quotations we have given from the novel will enable the reader to examine them for himself.^ 1 Compare what Campbell says in his introduction to the play : " The plot of this delicious comedy was taken by our Poet from Lodge's ' Rosalynde, or Euphues' Golden Legacye.' Some of Lodge's incidents are judiciously omitted, but the greater part are preserved — the wrest- ling scene, the flight of the two ladies into the forest of Arden, the meet- 1 68 Notes I may add that the character of Adam has a peculiar interest from the fact that, according to a tradition current in the eighteenth cen- tury, the part was performed by Shakespeare. Steevens gives the following extract from Oldys's manuscript collections for a life of the poet : — " One of Shakespeare's younger brothers, who lived to a good old age, even some years, as I compute, after the restoration of K. Charles 11. , would in his younger days come to London to visit his brother Will^ as he called him, and be a spectator of him as an actor in some of his own plays. This custom, as his brother's fame enlarged, and his dramatic entertainments grew the greatest support of our principal, if not of all our theatres, he continued it seems so long after his brother's death, as even to the latter end of his own life. The curiosity at this time of the most noted actors [exciting them] to learn something from him of his brother, &c., they justly held him in the highest veneration. And it may be well believed, as there was besides a kinsman and descendant of the family, who was then a celebrated actor ^ among them, this opportunity made them greedily inquisitive into every little circumstance, more espe- ing there of Rosalind with her father and mother, and the whole happy termination of the plot, are found in the prose romance. Even the names of the personages are but slightly changed ; for Lodge's Rosa- lind, in her male attire, calls herself Ganymede, and her cousin, as a shepherdess, is named Aliena. But never was the prolixity and ped- antry of a prosaic narrative transmuted by genius into such magical poetry. In the days of James L, George Heriot, the Edinburgh mer- chant who built a hospital still bearing his name, is said to have made his fortune by purchasing for a trifle a quantity of sand that had been brought as ballast by a ship from Africa. As it was dry, he suspected from its weight that it contained gold, and he succeeded in filtering a treasure from it. Shakespeare, like Heriot, took the dry and heavy sand of Lodge, and made gold out of it." 1 Charles Hart, who was perhaps a grandson of Shakespeare's sister Joan. Notes 169 daily in his dramatick character, which his brother could relate of him. But he, it seems, was so stricken in years, and possibly his memory so weakened with infirmities (which might make him the easier pass for a man of weak intellects), that he could give them but little light into their enquiries ; and all that could be recollected from him of his brother Wi//, in that station was, the faint, general, and almost lost ideas he had of having once seen him act a part in one of his own comedies, wherein being to personate a decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and appeared so weak and drooping and unable to walk, that he was forced to be supported and carried by another person to a table, at which he was seated among some company, who were eating, and one of them sung a song." Capell also has the following : — "A traditional story was current some years ago about Stratford, — that a very old man of that place, — of weak intellects, but yet related to Shakespeare, — being ask'd by some of his neighbours, what he remember'd about him ; answer'd, — that he saw him once brought on the stage upon another man's back ; which answer was apply'd by the hearers, to his having seen him perform in this scene the part of Adam." This story came to Capell from Mr. Thomas Jones, of Tarbick, in Worcestershire ; and Malone suggests that he may have heard it from Richard Quiney (who died in 1656, at the age of 69) or from Thomas Quiney, Shakespeare's son-in-law (who lived till about 1663, and who was 27 years old when the poet died), or from one of the Hathaways. ACT I Scene I. — i. As I remember, etc. We follow the folio here, as most of the editors do, though some have thought it necessary to mend the grammar by reading " upon this fashion : /ze bequeathed," etc. As here pointed, beqiteathed is a participle, and charged may be considered the same. lyo Notes [Act i 2. Poor a. This transposition of the article is akin to that still allowed after how and so. In A. and C. v. 2. 236, we have " What poor an instrument." 3. On his blessing. On is often so used in asseverations. Cf. T. of A. iii. 5. %*]: "On height of our displeasure." 4. To breed =\.o bring up, educate; as in 10 and 107 below. Cf. our present use in well-bred, good breeding, etc. 5. At school. That is, at the university. Cf. Ham.'\. 2. 113: "going back to school in Wittenberg." On goldenly, cf. Macb. i. 7" ZZ '• " golden opinions." Profit = proficiency. Cf. the use of the verb in i Jlen. IV. iii. i. 166: — " Exceedingly well read, and profited In strange concealments," etc. 8. Stays. Detains. Cf. i. 3. 66 below: "we stay'd her for your sake." 12. Manage. The training of a horse (Fr. manege^. Cf. Rich. II. iii. 3. 179, etc. 17. Countenance. Bearing, behaviour. Cf. i Hen. IV. \. i. 69: " By unkind usage, dangerous countenance." Seems = seems as if it wished. 18. Hinds. Menials, servants; as in III. W. iii. 5. 99 and P. and J. i. 7. 73. Elsewhere the word = boor, peasant ; as in L. L. L. i. 2. 123, etc. 19. Mines. Undermines, seeks to destroy. Cf. Ham. iii. 4. 148: " rank corruption, mining all within," etc. 22. MtUiny. Rebel. S. also uses the form mutine, both verb and noun ; as in Ham. iii. 4. 2>2„ v. 2. 6, and K. John, ii. i. 378. 28. What w,ake you here ? What do you here ? as in ii. 3. 4 and iii. 2. 217 below. The phrase is very common, and is quibbled upon in L. L. L. iv. 3, 190 fol. and in Rich. III. i. 3. 164 fol. 32. Marry. Originally a mode of swearing by the Virgin ; but its derivation had come to be forgotten in the time of S. 35. Be naught awhile. A petty oath, equivalent to a mischief Scene I] Notes 171 on you. Many examples of the phrase might be quoted from writers of the time. 38. What prodigal portion, etc. The allusion to the story of the prodigal (^Luke, xv.) is found several times in S. Cf. W. T. iv. 3. 103 : " a motion of the Prodigal Son " (that is, a puppet-show, illustrating the story); and 2 Hen. IV. ii. i. 157: "the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in water-work" (where the context shows that it was used in tapestries and hangings). See also T. G. of V, ii. 3. 4, M. of V. ii. 6. 17, etc. 43. Hi7?i. Often put, by attraction to whom understood, for he whom. Cf. A. and C. iii. i. 15 : "Acquire too high a fame when him we serve 's away," etc. 44. In the gentle condition of blood. " On any kindly view of relationship." 50. Your coming, etc. That is, you are more closely and di- rectly the representative of his honours, and therefore entitled to the respect due to him. Whiter thinks that Orlando uses reverence in an ironical sense, and means to say that " his brother, by coming before him, is nearer to a respectable and venerable elder of a fam- ily." This interpretation is perhaps favoured by Oliver's evident anger at his brother's words. 52. What, boy ! Oliver attempts to strike him, and Orlando in return seizes his brother by the throat. 54. Young. Raw, inexperienced. Cf. Lodge (p. 150): "I am yongest to performe any martial exploytes," etc. See also Macb. iii. 4. 144: "We are yet but young in deed." Too young is used in a contrary sense in Much Ado, v. i. 119. 58. Villain. Oliver uses the word in the present sense ; Orlando, with a play upon this and the old meaning of serf or base-born fel- low. Cf. lear, iii. 7. 78, etc. The word was sometimes used as a familiar form of address, and even as a term of endearment ; as in C. of E. i. 2. 19, W. T. i. 2. 136, etc. In T. tV. ii. 5. 16 and T. and C. iii. 2, 35 it is applied to women in this sense. 71. Such exercises, etc. Cf. T. G. of V. i. 3. 32 : — 172 Notes [Act 1 " And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth." 72. AUotery. Allotment, portion. S. uses the word only here. 73. Go buy. Go to buy ; a very common ellipsis with go in S. Cf. i. 2. 241 below. 82. My teeth. For the use of the same figure in the reply to it, cf. M. of V. iii. 3. 6 : " Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; but, since I am a dog, beware my fangs." Z"}^. Spoke. S. uses both spoke and spoken as the participle. 84. Grow upon me. Get the better of me, get the upper hand of me. Cf. y. C. ii. i. 107: "growing on the south" (that is, gain- ing on it, tending that way) ; Hen. V. iii. 3- 55 : " sickness grow- ing Upon our soldiers," etc. 85. Physic your rankness. Check this rank growth of your in- solence. 88. Wrestler. " Wrastler " in the folio here and elsewhere ; but the other spelling was also used in the time of S. The former indi- cates the pronunciation, which is still a vulgar one in this country. 90. So please you. If it please you ; of which our " if you please" is a corruption. Cf. Sonn. 136. ii: "so it please thee," etc. 102. Good leave. Full permission. Cf. M. of V. iii. 2. 326 and I Hen. IV. i. 3. 20. 109. Died to stay behind. This " indefinite " use of the infinitive is very common in S. 113. The forest of Arden. The Forest of Ardennes was in the northeast of France, " between the Meuse and the Moselle "; but it is not necessary to suppose that the poet had this fact in mind. He took the scene from Lodge's novel, lions and all, and did not trouble himself about its geography. Knight has well said : " We most heartily wish that the critics would allow poetry to have its own geography. We do not want to know that Bohemia has no sea- board ; we do 7iot wish to have the island of Sycorax defined on the map ; we do not require that our Forest of Arden should be Scene I] Notes 173 the Arduenna Sylva of Caesar and Tacitus." There was also a Forest of Arden in Warwickshire. Drayton, in his Matilda, 1594, speaks of " sweet Arden's nightingales "; and again, in the Idea: — " Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing, Amongst the daintie dew-impearled flowers." 114. A many. Cf. A. Y. L. i. i. 121, K. John, iv. 2. 199, etc. The expression is still occasionally used in poetry ; as by Tennyson in The Miller's Daughter : "They have not shed a many tears," etc. Merry Men was a common term for the followers of Robin Hood dind other outlaws. 117. Fleet. Not elsewhere used transitively by S. The intran- sitive verb occurs often ; as in Sonn. ig. 5, M. of V. iii. 2. 108, iv. I. 135, K.John, ii. i. 285, etc. The golden worlds the golden age. 119. What. Often so used, "superfluously introducing a ques- tion." Cf. J. C. iv. I. 10, Ham. \. i. ig, T. of S. iv. 3. 59, etc. 126. Shall. Must, will have to. 130. Withal. With this, with it. Cf. i. 2. 26 and ii. 7. 48 below. 131. Intendment. Intention, purpose. Cf. Hen. V. i. 2. 144: " the main intendment of the Scot." 138. By underhand means. By indirect means. 139. It is. Used contemptuously; as in M. of V. iii. 3. 18 : "It is the most impenetrable cur;" and Hen. V. iii. 6. 71 : "Why, 't is a gull, a fool," etc. In Macb. i. 4. 58 (" It is a peerless kinsman ") the familiarity is affectionate. See also iii. 5. 112 below. 141. Emulator. Used by S. only here. For emulation — envy, jealousy, cf. J. C. ii. 3. 14, etc. So emulous = envious; as in T. and C. ii. 3. 79, 242, etc. 142. Contriver. Plotter; as in T. A. iv. i. 36, J. C. ii. i. 158, and Macb. iii. 5. 7. Contrive is used in the same bad sense; as in iv. 3. 134 below. Cf. Hen. V.'w. \. \']\, J. C. ii. 3. 16, Ham. iv. 7. 136, etc. The adjective natural did not formerly imply, as now, illegitimacy. 143. Had as lief. Good old English, but condemned by some 174 Notes [Act I modern grammar-mongers because they cannot " parse " it. Lief'xs, the Anglo-Saxon leof, dear. The comparative liefer or lever and the superlative liefest are common in our early vi^riters. S. does not use liefer, but has liefest in 2 Hen. VI. iii. I. 164: "my liefest liege." Cf. Spenser, F, Q. iii. 2. 33 : *' my liefest liefe " (my dearest love). Lief at first = dear, beloved, pleasing, came to mean willing. From this the transition is easy to the adverbial use = willingly, as in had as lief = would as willingly. The forms liefsind lieve are used interchangeably in the folios. The latter is not un- known in good writers of recent date. Matzner quotes Sheridan : " I had as lieve be shot." 144. Thou wert best. Another old English idiom, now obsolete. Cf. y. C. iii. 3. 12: "Ay, and truly, you were best," etc. The pro- noun was originally a dative {to you it were best), but came to be regarded as a nominative; as in if you please = if it please you (see on 90 above). 147. Practise. Use stratagems, plot. Cf. 2 Hen. VI. ii. i. 171 : "Have practis'd dangerously against your state." Elsewhere it is followed by on or up07i ; as in Much Ado, ii. I. 398, Lear, iii. 2. 57, 0th. ii. I. 319, etc. 152. Brotherly. An adverb, as in the only other instances of the word in S. : 3 Hen. VI. iv. 3. 38, and Cymb. iv. 2. 158. 153. Anatomize. Used literally (= dissect) in Lear, iii. 6. 80; figuratively (as here and in ii. 7. 56 below) in R. of L. 1450,^. W. iv- 3- 37> etc. 160. Gamester. A frolicsome fellow; as in T. of S. ii, i. 402 and Hen. VIII. i. 4. 45. It is here used contemptuously, and per- haps with some reference to Orlando's ambition to try his luck in the wrestling. It means a gambler in L. L. L. i. 2. 44, Hen. V. iii. 6. 119, etc.; and a harlot in A. W. v. 3. 188 and Per. iv. 6. 81. 162. Than he. S. often confounds the inflections of the per- sonal and other pronouns. Cf. lines 1 7 and 268 of the next scene. 163. Full of noble device. Of noble conceptions and aims. S. often makes his villains (like lago, Edmund, Macbeth, Antonio in Scene II] Notes 175 The Tempest, and others) pay an honest tribute to the men against whom they are plotting. 164. Sorts. Ranks, classes; as often. 166. Misprised. Undervalued, slighted. Cf. i. 2. 181 below, and A. W. iii. 2. 33; also the noun misprision in A. W. ii, 3. 159. 168. Kindle. Incite. Cf. enkindle in Macb. i. 3. 121. Thither = thereto. On go about = set about, undertake, cf. Much Ado, i. 3. II, M. for M. iii. 2. 215, Heit. V. iv. i. 212, etc. See also Romans, x. 3, etc. Scene II. — The name of Rosalind, here taken by S. from Lodge, was a favourite one with our early poets. Rosaline (in L. L. Z.) is another form of it. I. Sweet my coz. Cf. y. C. ii. i. 25 : " dear my lord," etc. Coz was the common abbreviation of cousin. 4. Yet I were merrier, I were yet merrier. Yet and only are often thus transposed by Elizabethan writers. Cf. Hen. VIII. ii. 4. 204 : " full sick, and yet not well ; " which, as it stands, is nonsen- sical. 6. Learn. Teach; but always with the object expressed. Cf. R. and J. iii. 2. 12: "learn me how to love;" Cymb. i. 5. 12: " learn'd me how to make perfumes," etc. 10. So. For so = if, cf. i. i. 90 above. 13. Tempered. Conditioned. Cf. T. and C. ii. 3. 265: — " were your days As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd," etc. 18. Nor noite. For the double negative, so common in S,, cf. 23 below. The confusion of I and /ne is common, like that of the in- flections of other pronouns. See in i. I. 162 above. Like = likely, as very often in S. Cf. iv. i. 65 below. 20. Perforce. Here = by force; as in C. of E. iv. 3. 95, Rich. II. ii. 3. 121, M. N. D. ii. i. 26, etc. Elsewhere it is = of necessity; as in M. N. D. iii. 2. 90, Hen. V. v. 2. 161, etc. Render — give 176 Notes [Act I back. Cf. ii. 5. 28 below; also M. of V. iv. i. 383, Hen. V. ii. 4. 127, etc. 26. Withal. See on i. i. 130 above. 28. A pure blush. A blush that has no shame in it. Come off — get off, escape; as in Jlf. of V.\. i. 128, Cor. ii. 2. 116, etc. 31. The good housewife Fortune, etc. Cf. A. and C. iv. 15. 44: " That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel." There, as in Hen. V. V. i. 85 (*' Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now ? "), housewife or huswife (the latter is the usual spelling in the folio) is used contemptuously. Cf. Ham. ii. 2. 515. Fortune is represented with a wheel, as Fluelen explains {Hen. V. iii. 6. 35), "to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and variation." 38. Honest. Chaste, virtuous; as in iii. 3. 17. Cf. M. W. iv. 2. 107, 136, etc. 39. Ill-favour edly. Ill-favoured, ugly. Cf. iii. 5. 53: "ill-favour'd children." Adverbs are often used as adjectives. For favour = face, cf. Genesis, xxix, 17, xxxix. 6, xli. 2, 3, 4, etc. 43. When Nature, etc. " True that fortune does not make fair features ; but she can mar them by some accident. So nature makes us able to philosophize, chance spoils our grave philosophy by sending us a fool " (Moberly). 48. Natural. Fool, idiot. Cf. Temp. iii. 2. 37 and R. and J. ii. 4. 96. 51. Who, perceiving, etc. Or, perhaps, Nature thinks us so dull that she sends us her " natural " to sharpen our wits. 52. To reason of. To talk about, discuss. 54. Whetstone of the wits. The title of Robert Recorde's Arith- metic is " The Whetstone of Witte." Wit! whither wander you ? "Wit, whither wilt ?" (iv. I. 161) was a proverbial saying ; perhaps the beginning of an old ballad. 64. Naught. Worthless, bad. Cf. Much Ado, v. I. 157: "the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife 's naught ; " Hen. V. i. 2. 73 : " corrupt and naught," etc. The word in this Scene II] Notes 177 sense is usually spelled naught in the early eds., but nought when it means nothing. 66. And yet was not the knight forsworn. Boswell quotes the old play of Damon and Pithias : — " I haue taken a wise othe on him : have I not, trow ye, To trust such a false knave upon his honestie ? As he is an honest man (quoth you ?) he may bewray all to the kinge, And breke his oth for this never a whit." Cf. Rich. III. iv. 4. 366-387. 81. Old Frederick. The reading of the folios, which, however, assign the folio wing, speech to Rosalind. As Frederick was Celia's father (v. 4. 154), some editors have changed Frederick to "Fer- dinand"; others have given, as I do, the next speech to Celia. The latter seems the simpler way out of the difficulty ; and such errors in the names of characters are by no meaiis rare in the early eds. 85. Taxation. Satire, invective. Cf. tax = accuse, inveigh against, in ii. 7. 71, 86 below ; also in Much Ado, i. i. 46, T. and C. i. 3. 97, Ham. i. 4. 18, etc. We still speak of " taxing a person with " anything. Whipping was the usual punishment of fools. 87. Wise men is printed as one word in the folio, like wise man in V. I. 35 and elsewhere. It was accented on the first syllable, as madman is now. 88. By my troth. The most common form of the petty oath of which d' my troth ! in troth ! good troth ! and the simple troth ! are variations. For troth in its original sense (= truth), cf. M. N. D. ii. 2. 36: "to speak troth," etc. 89. Was silenced. There may be here an allusion to some recent restriction upon the players. 93. Put on us. Inflict on us, or force upon us. Cf. M. for M. ii. 2. 133, T. N.v. I. 70, Ha7n. i. 3. 94, etc. loi. Sport! of what colour? Probably Celia is ridiculing Le Beau's affected pronunciation of the word, which suggests spot. AS YOU LIKE IT — 12 178 Notes [Act I 106. Laid on with a troiuel. This was no doubt a proverbial hit at clumsy or gross flattery. Cf. lay it on — to do anything to excess, to be lavish in expense, to flatter extravagantly, etc. See W. T. iv. 3. 41, etc. To lay it on thick is still a colloquial ex- pression. 107. Rank. There is a similar play upon the word in Cymb. ii. I. 17. 109. Amaze. Confuse, put me in a maze. Cf. V. and A. 684: "a labyrinth to amaze his foes;" K. John, iv. 3. 140: "I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way;" M. for M. iv. 2. 224: "Yet you are amazed ; but this shall absolutely resolve you," etc. 115. To do. A common idiomatic use of the infinitive active. Cf. T. N. iii. 2. 18. : " What 's to do ? " etc. It is still in good use in many phrases; as "a house to let," for which some over- fastidious folk think it necessary to substitute " to be let." 118. Comes. The singular verb is often found before two singular subjects as well as before a plural subject; and here we have a combination of the two cases. 121. Proper. Comely, good-looking; as often. Cf. Hebrews^ xi. 23. 123. With bills on their necks. The bill was " a kind of pike or halberd, formerly carried by the English infantry, and afterwards the usual weapon of watchmen." It was also used by foresters. Lodge describes Rosader " with his forrest bill on his necke," that is on his shoulder. For the play upon bill, cf. Much Ado, iii, 3. 191 and 2 Hen. VI. iv. 7. 135. There is also a pun on presence and presents. 127. That = so \h2l ; as often. 130. Dole. Grief. Cf. M. N. D. y. i. 283 : "What dreadful dole is here ! " Hajn. i. 2. 13 : " delight and dole," etc. 141. Broken mtisic. Chappell (^Popular Music, etc.) says: " Some instruments, such as viols, violins, flutes, etc., were formerly made in sets of four, which when played together formed a ' con- sort.' If one or more of the instruments of one set were substituted Scene II] Notes 179 for the corresponding ones of another set, the result was no longer a 'consort,' but 'broken music' " P^or the play upon the expression, cf. Hen. V. v. 2. 263 and T. and C. iii. I. 52. The use of see here has troubled some of the critics, and changes have been suggested; but, though Rosalind speaks of "broken music," she has in mind the wrestling. 153. Looks successfully. Looks as if he would be successful. Cf. Hen. V. iv. prol. 39: "But freshly looks;" Teffip. iii. i. 32: "You look wearily; " Rick. III. i. 4. I : "Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ? " etc. See also on 39 above. 156. Are you C7'ept? Have you crept ? Be and have are both used with the perfect tense of certain intransitive verbs, mostly of motion. 157. So please you. See on i. i. 90 above. 165. The princess calls. The them in Orlando's reply suggests \}a.2X princess is plural (as horse, sense, balance, and other words end- ing in a sibilant sometimes are) and that calls is a misprint for call. 175. Your eyes, etc. The meaning, as Johnson notes, is "if you could use your own eyes to see., or your own judgment to know yourself, the fear of your adventure would counsel you." 181. Misprised. See on i, I, 166. 182. Might. May; an irregular sequence of tenses. 187. Wherein. Apparently used, as other relative words some- times are, before the antecedent clause : Punish me not with your hard thoughts for denying you anything; wherein (in doing which) I confess myself much guilty. The reflexive use of me (as of other personal pronouns) is common. 188. Gracious. Favoured, acceptable. Cf. T.A.'x. i. ii (cf. 170 and 429) : " gracious in the eyes of Rome ; " 3 Hen. VI. iii. 3. 117 : "gracious in the people's eye." 191. Only, etc. That is, I only fill up, etc. Cf. Macb. iii. 6. 2 : "Only I say; " /. C. v. 4. 12 : "Only I yield to die," etc. 203. Working. S. often uses the word of mental operations. Cf. Soitn. 93. II, M.for M. ii. i. 10, L, L. L. iv. i. ■^^-^t etc. 1 80 Notes [Act I 209. Come your ways. Cf. ii. 3. 66 and iv. i. 179 below. 210. Speed. Patron, protector. Qi. Hen. Kv. 2. 194: "Saint Dennis be my speed!" R. and J. v. 3. 121 : "Saint Francis be my speed ! " etc. The word often means good fortune, success ; as in T. of S. ii. i. 139, W. T. iii. 2. 146, etc. So the verb often = succeed; as in A. W. iii. 7. 44, T. G. of V. iv. 4. 112, etc. It is also used in wishing success; as in M. N. D.\. i. 180 : " God speed fair Helena ! " etc. See also Genesis, xxiv. 12 and 2 John, 10, ii. 215. Should down. A common ellipsis in S. 218. Well-breathed. In full breath, well started. Cf. T. of S. ind. 2. 50: "as swift As breathed stags;" A. and C. iii. 13. 178: "I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd;" L.L.L.w. 2. 659: " A man so breath'd that certain he would fight ; yea, From morn till night." 227. Still. Constantly; as very often. Cf. iii. 2. 51 below. 228. Shouldst. We should say " wouldst." 234. Calling. "Appellation; a very unusual, if not unprece- dented sense of the word" (Steevens). Elsewhere S. uses it in the modern sense, but (with the exception of Per. iv. 2. 43, which may not be his) only of the ecclesiastical profession. 239. Unto. In addition to. Cf. Rich. II. v. 3. 97 : " Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee." 242. Envious. Malicious ; the usual meaning in S. So envy more commonly = malice, spite, hate. 243. At heart. To the heart. Cf. T. and C. iii. 2. 202. 245. But justly as. Just as, exactly as. 247. This. A chain: as appears from iii. 2. 1 79. Out of suits, etc. = " turned out of the service of Fortune and stripped of her livery" (Steevens), or "out of her books or graces" (Johnson). 248. Could. Could with a good will, would gladly. Cf. A. and C. i. 2. 131 : "The hand could pluck her back that shov'd her on." 250. My better parts. Caldecott quotes yT/rtx2.gg2x\., bully, in Hen. V. iii. 2. 30. Swashbuckler was used in the same sense. 120. Mannish. Cf. Cymb. iv. 2. 236: "though now our voices Have got the mannish crack; " and T. andC. iii. 3. 217; "A woman impudent and mannish grown." 121. Outface it. Face it out. Cf. Much Ado, v. i. 94 ; " Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys." 127. No longer Celia, but Aliena. An eleven-syllable line. Celia is a trisyllable, as in 66 above, and Aliena accented on the penult, as it ought to be. 128. Assay d. Tried, attempted. Cf. 0th. \\. 3. 207: "Assays to lead the way," etc. 132. Woo. Solicit, gain over. Cf. i^iV^. //. i. 4. 28 : " Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles ; " T. and C. iii. I. 162: " I must woo you To help unarm our Hector," etc. 136. Go we in content. The reading of the later folios; the first has " in we." Content is a noun, as in iii. 2. 25 below. ACT II Scene I. — i. Exile. Accented on the last syllable, as in R. and J. iii. 3. 20, 140 (but exile 13 and 43), v. 3. 211, etc. S. also uses the verb with both accents. 2. Old custom. Continued habit. 5. Here feel we not, etc. This is the reading of the folios, but many editors read " feel we but." Knight thus defends the old text : " We ask, what is ' the penalty of Adam ' ? All the commentators say, 'the seasons' difference.' On the contrary, it was, *In the Scene I] Notes 187 sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.' Milton represents the repentant Adam as thus interpreting the penalty : — ' On me the curse aslope Glanced on the ground ; with labour I must earn My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse.' ' The seasons' difference,' it must be remembered, was ordained before the fall and was in no respect a penalty. We may therefore reject the received interpretation. But how could the Duke say, receiv- ing the passage in the sense we have suggested, ' Here feel we not the penalty of Adam'? In the first act, Charles the Wrestler, describing the Duke and his comates, says, they 'fleet the time carelessly as they did in the golden world.^ One of the character- istics of the golden world is thus described by Daniel : — ' Oh ! happy golden age ! Not for that rivers ran With streams of milk and honey dropp'd from trees ; Not that the earth did gage Unto the husbandman Her voluntary fruits, free without fees.' The song of Amiens in the fifth scene of this act, conveys, we think, the same allusion : — ' Who doth ambition shun, An'd loves to live i' the sun. Seeking the food he eats, And pleas' d with what he gets' The exiled courtiers led a life without toil — a life in which they were contented with a little — and they were thus exempt from the ' penalty of Adam.' We close, therefore, the sentence at ' Adam.' * The seasons' difference ' is now the antecedent of ' these are coun- sellors '; the freedom of construction common to Shakespeare and the poets of his time fully warranting this acceptation of the read- ing. In this way, the Duke says, ' The differences of the seasons 1 88 Notes [Act 11 are counsellors that teach me what I am; as, for example, the win- ter's wind — which, when it blows upon my body, I smile and say, this is no flattery.' " 6. As. As for instance, namely. Cf. iv. 3. 141 below. See also Macb. V. 3. 25, etc. 8. Which. As to which. 13. Like the toad, etc. Cf. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 2. 138 : " venom toads; " Rich. III. i. 2. 148: "Never hung poison on a fouler toad," etc. Better naturalists than S. believed in the toad-stone^ the " precious jewel " of the text. Fenton, in his Secrete Wonders of Nature, 1569, says that " there is founde in the heades of old and great toades, a stone which they call Borax or Stelon : it is most commonly founde in the head of a hee toad, of power to repulse poysons, and that it is a most soveraigne medicine for the stone." Its virtues are also set forth in Lupton's Thousatid Notable Things, 1586, in Topsell's History of Serpents, 1608, and by other learned writers of the time. Allusions to it are frequent in the literature of that day. Meres, in \a% Palladis Taenia, S2,ys : "As the foule toad hath a faire stone in his head; the fine golde is founde in the filthie earth; the sweete kernell lyeth in the harde shell," etc. Lyly, in his Euphues, also says that " the foule toad hath a faire stone in his head," etc. 18. / tuould not change it. The folios make these words the beginning of the next speech, but I think that Upton, Dyce, and others are right in transferring them to the Duke. 21. Go and kill us. See on i. i. 73; and for us on i. 2. 187. 22. Irks me. Cf. i Hen. VI. i. 4. 105 : "it irks his heart;" and 3 Hen. VI. ii. 2. 6 : " it irks my very soul." S. uses the word only three times. Irksome occurs in iii. 5. 94 below. Fool is sometimes used as " a term of endearment or pity." Cf. W. T. ii. I. 18: "Do not weep, poor fools; " 3 Hen. VI. ii. 5. 36: " So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean," etc. Halliwell- Phillipps quotes a poem by Harington, addressed to his wife : — " Thus then I doe rejoice in that thou grievest, And yet, sweet foole, I love thee, thou beleevest." Scene I] Notes 189 23. Burghers. Citizens. Cf. M. of V.\. i. 10: "Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood." In Sidney's Arcadia deer are called " the wild burgesses of the forest "; and in Drayton's Polyol- bion the hart is " a burgess of the wood." 24. Confines. For the accent, cf. Sonn. 83. 4 : "In whose con- fine immured is the store," etc. S. oftener accents it on the first syllable; as in J. C. iii. i. 272: "Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice," etc. Tla.& forked heads are those of arrows. As- cham (^Toxophihis') uses the same words in describing arrows. 26. y agues. A dissyllable, as always in S. Cf. A. W. iii. 4. 4 : " I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone; " Id. iii. 5. 98: "There's four or five to great Saint Jaques bound," etc. 27. In that kind. In that way. Cf.^^2/£-/^ .^^(?, ii. i. 70: "if the prince do solicit you in that kind," etc. 30. lay along. Lay at full length. Cf. J. C. iii. i . 15: " That now on Pompey's basis lies along," etc. See also iii. 2. 236 below. "Shakespeare," said Coleridge, "never gives a description of rustic scenery merely for its own sake, or to show how well he can paint natural objects : he is never tedious or elaborate; but while he now and then displays marvellous accuracy and minuteness of knowledge, he usually only touches upon the larger features and broader characteristics, leaving the fillings up to the imagina- tion. Thus, in As You Like It, he describes an oak of many centu- ries' growth in a single line : ' Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out.' Other and inferior writers would have dwelt on this description, and worked it out with all the pettiness and imperti- nence of detail. In Shakespeare the * antique ' root furnishes the whole picture." 31. Antique, Spelt critique or antick in the early eds. without regard to the meaning, but always accented on the first syllable. 2,2^. Sequester'' d. Separated from his companions. Cf. T. A. ii. 3. 75 : " Why are you sequester'd from all your train ? " There the accent is on the first syllable, as in the noun in 0th. iii. 4. 40 : "A 190 Notes [Act II sequester from liberty, fasting, and prayer." In T. and C. iii. 3. 8, it is accented as in the text. 36. The wretched animal, etc. In a marginal note to a similar passage in Drayton's Polyolbio7i, it is said that " the harte weepeth at his dying : his tears are held to be precious in medicine." We find the same idea in Batman, Sidney, and other writers of the time. 39. Cours'd. Chased. Cf. Macb. i. 6. 21 : " We cours'd him at the heels," etc. 42. The exiremest verge. The very edge. S. accents extreme on the first syllable, except in Sonn. 129. 4. 10. .Exiremest, which he uses often, has the modern accent. Cf. M. of V.\. i. 138, Rich. II. iv. I. 47, etc. 44. Moralize. Moralize upon, draw a moral from. Cf. T. of S. iv. 4. 81 : "I pray thee, moralize them," etc. 46. Needless. Not needing it. Cf. careless = uncared for (^Macb. i. 4. 11), sightless = unseen (Alacb. i. 7. 23), etc. 49. Being there. As to his being there. The line is an Alexan- drine. 50. Of. By ; as often. F.?/^^^/ = " soft, delicate " (Schmidt). 52. Flux. Flow, confluence. S. uses the word only here and in iii. 2. 66 below. 59. The body. The whole system. 62. Up. Often used, as now, to " impart to verbs the sense of completion " (Schmidt). Cf. " dries up " ( V. and A. 756), " burnt up" (^Temp. iii. I. 17), "mould up" {Hen. VIII. v. 5. 27), "poi- sons up" (Z. L. L. iv. 3. 305), etc. See also Robinson's transla- tion of More's Utopia : " olde age kylleth them vp." 67. Cope. Encounter. Cf. Hen. VIII. i. 2. 78 : " to cope ma- licious censurers ; " V. and A. 888 : "who shall cope him first?" etc. 68. Matter. Good sense. Cf. Much Ado, ii. i. 344 : "all mirth and no matter ; " Ham. ii. 2. 95 : " more matter with less art," etc. See also material in iii. 3. 32 below. Scene III] Notes 191 Scene II. — 3. Are of consent and sufferance. That is, have connived at it and allowed it. 7. Untreasur'' d. Used by S. only here ; and ^'r^^jwr^ (= enrich) only in Sonn. 6. 3. 8. Roynish. Scurvy, mean (Fr. rogneux^. Cf. ronyon {Macb. i. 3. 6 and M. W. iv. 2. 195), which has the same origin. 13. Farts. Gifts, qualities ; as in i. I. 141 above. Cf. L. L. L. iv. 2. 118: "I thy parts admire," etc. 6'r(2(:^j = attractions. Cf. Sonn. 103. 12: "your graces and your gifts." Wrestler is here a trisyllable. 19. Suddenly. Quickly. Cf. M. TV. iv. i. 6: "Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly." See also ii. 4. 100 below. 20. Inquisition. Inquiry; as in the only other instance of the word in S. (^Temp. i. 2. 35). Quail := flag, slacken. Scene III. — 3. Memory. Memorial, reminder. Cf. Cor. iv. 5. 77: — " a good memory And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me." 4. What make you here ? Cf. i. I. 28 and iii. 2. 217. 7. So fond, etc. So foolish as. Cf. AI. of V. iii. 3. 9: — " I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request." 8. The bonny priser. The gallant prize-fighter. Th^ New Eng- lish Diet, defines it in this and another passage, as " big, strong." The first folio has it " bonnie," the later folios " bonny." Some editors change it to "bony" ( = big-boned, sturdy), but S. does not use the word elsewhere, and it is doubtful whether it had that sense in his day. He has bonny several times = blithe, and once (2 Hejt. VI. V. 2. 12: "the bonny beast he lov'd so well") with quite the same force as here. Priser, or prizer, he uses only here and in 192 Notes [Act II T. and C. ii. 2. 56, where it is = appraiser. For humorous see on i. 2. 267. 12. No more do yours. A peculiar kind of " double negative "; like V. and A. 478 : " To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd " (where marr''d — we should say made — duplicates the idea in hurf) ; M. of V. iv. I. 162 : " Let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation " (either — no motive to let him lack, or = no impediment to let him have) ; Cymb. i. 4. 23 : "a beggar without less quality " ( = " with less," or " without more," both of which have been proposed as emenda- tions), etc. In the present passage but as enemies = nothing else than enemies, and JVo more do yours is an emphatic reiteration of the implied negative. 15. Efivenoms. Poisons. Cf. K.John, iii. i. 63, Hatn. iv. 7. 104, etc. There may be an allusion to the poisoned tunic of Hercules. 23. Use. Are accustomed. We still use the past tense of the verb in this sense, but not the present. Cf. Temp. ii. i. 175 : " they always use to laugh at nothing; " T. N. ii. 5. 104: "with which she uses to seal ; " A. and C. ii. 5. 32 : " we use To say the dead are well," etc. See also Milton, Lycidas, 67 : " Were it not better done, as others use," etc. 26. Practices. Plottings. Cf. Hen. V. ii. 2. 90 : " the practices of France ; " Id. ii. 2. 144: "And God acquit them of their prac- tices ! " etc. 27, Place. That is, place for you ; or, perhaps, //(a://^. iii. 3. 409 : "a living reason." 413. Merely. Absolutely. Cf. Temp. i. i. 59: "we are merely cheated of our lives," etc. 414. Liver. Considered the seat of love. Cf. Temp. iv. i. 56, Much Ado, iv. i . 233, etc. See also liver-vein in L. L. L. iv. 3. 74. The simile, as Steevens remarks, is in keeping with Rosalind's assumed character of a shepherd. Scene III. — i. Audrey. A contraction of Etheldreda. The word tawdry is a corruption of Saint Audrey. 3. Feature. Shape, personal appearance (Schmidt). Cf. Sonn. 113. 12, Temp. iii. I. 52, etc. Some take it to be = "facture" (or making in the early English sense of composition, verses), as Mr. W. Wilkins explains it ; but this is doubtful. Audrey somehow mis- understands the word, and this involves a joke, but what the joke can be seems past finding out. Furness, after devoting almost three pages of fine print to it, gives it up as inexplicable. 7. Goats. There is a play on this word and Goths, which seems to have had the same pronunciation. So, as Grant White has shown, with fjioth and mote, nothing and noting, etc. Caldecott remarks that in our early printing Goths and Gothic were spelled Gates and Gotiishe. He quotes Thomas, Llist. of Ltalye, 1561 : "against the gotes " (that is, Goths). Capricious is apparently used here on account of its derivation (Latin caper, goat) . 220 Notes [Act III lo. Ill-inhabited. Ill-housed. For the allusion to the story of Philemon and Baucis, of. Much Ado, ii. i. 99. 15. ^ great reckoning, etc. A large bill for a small company or a mean entertainment. 21. May be said, M. Mason wished to read "it may be said; " but it is more likely a " confusion of construction " for " may be said to be feigned." 26. Honest. Chaste ; as in i. 2. 38. Cf. dishonest in v. 3. 4 below. 29. Hard-favoured. Ill-favoured (cf. i. 2. 39 above), ugly. Cf. V. and A. 133 : "Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old; " Hen. V. iii. 1.8: " Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd age," etc, 32. Material. "Full of matter" (ii. I. 68), sensible. 36. Foul. Plain, ugly; as in the passage from V. and A. just quoted, and in iii. 5. 62 below. 49. Stagger. Waver, hesitate; as in M. W. iii. 3. 12, etc. 51. What though? What of it ? Cf. M. W.\. i. 286, Hen. V. ii. I. 9, etc. 52. Necessary. Unavoidable; asiny. C. ii. 2. 36, etc. 57. Rascal. A lean or worthless deer. Puttenham, in his £7z^/z^>^ Poesie, says : " raskall is properly the hunter's terme given to young deere, leane and out of season." For a play on the word, see Cor. i. II. 63, 2 He7i. IV. ii. 4. 45, v. 4. 34, etc. 58. More worthier. See on iii. 2. 59 above. 61. By how much, etc. See on v. 2. 44 below. 63. Sir. "The style of a priest, answering to dominus.''^ 68. On gift of any man. The idea seems to be that what is given away is not worth having. 75. God Held you. God yield you, reward you. Cf. v. 4. 54 below. The full form (" the gods yield you for 't ! ") occurs in A. and C. iv. 2. 33. 79. Bow. English editors explain ox-bow as a provincialism, but it is in common use in New England. 80. Falcon. The female bird, the male bird being called tercel or tassel (cf. T. and C. iii. 2. 56 and R. and J. ii. 2. 160). Falcon Scene IV] Notes 221 is masculine in J?, of L. 506, but this is because it is applied meta- phorically to Tarquin. On the bells, cf. R.of L.^w and 3 Hen. VI. i. I. 47. 90. But I were better. That it were not better for me. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 245, T. N. i. 2. 27, etc. The construction was originally impersonal (= to me it were better), like if I please, etc. See on i. i. 90 above. 98. O sweet Oliver. A quotation from a ballad of the time. 102. Wind. Steevens notes that wmi3'=wend in Ccesar and Pompey, 1607: " Winde we then, Anthony, with this royal queen," etc. 106. Flout. Mock, jeer; as in i. 2. 45 above, etc. For calling, see on i. 2. 234 above. Scene IV. — 9. Than Judas'' s. It was a current opinion that Judas had red hair and beard, and he was commonly so represented in the paintings and tapestries of the time. Cf. Marston, Insatiate Countess, 161 3: "I ever thought by his red beard he would prove a Judas;" Middleton, Chaste Maid in Cheapside, 1620 : "Sure that was Judas with the red beard," etc. 12. Yotir chestnut. A common colloquial use oi your. Cf. v. 4. 61 below; also M. N. D. i. 2. 95, iii. i. t,Z^ iv. i. 36, etc. 15. Holy bread. Sacramental bread. 16. Cast. Cast off, discarded. Cf. Hen. V. iv. i. 23: "casted slough;" Hen. VIII. i. 3. 48: "your colt's tooth is not cast yet," etc. For the allusion to Diana, cf. Much Ado, iv. i. 58, T. of A. iv. 3. 387, Cor. V. 3. 65, etc. 17. Winter'' s sisterhood. That is, "an unfruitful sisterhood." Cf. M. N. D. i. I. 72: — " To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon." 23. Pick-purse. Pickpocket; as in M. W.\. i. 163, Z. Z. Z, iv, 3. 208, etc. 222 Notes [Act III 24. Verity. Faith, honesty; as in Macb. iv. 3. 92: "justice, verity, temperance." 25. A covered goblet. More hollow because the cover is on only when the cup is empty. 31. The word of a tapster. Who would cheat in his reckoning. Cf. L. L. L. i. 2. 42: "I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster; " T. and C. i. 2. 123: "a tapster's arithmetic," etc. 35. Question. Talk, conversation. Cf. v. 4. 161 below; also IV. T. iv. 2. 55, etc. See on iii. 2. 368 above. 37. What. For what, why. Cf. _/. C. ii. i. 123: "What need we any spur," etc. 39. A brave man ! A fine fellow ! Cf. for the irony Temp. iii. 2. 12: "He were a brave monster indeed," etc. See on bravery^ ii. 7. 80 above. 41. Traverse. Crosswise; that is, clumsily. It was thought dis- graceful to break a lance across the body of an adversary, and not by a direct thrust. Cf. Much Ado, v. 1 . 1 39 : " give him another staff ; this last was broke cross." 42. Lover is feminine, as in T. G. of V. i. i. 116, Cymb. v. 5. 172, etc. In A Lover'' s Complaint the lover is a woman. Puisny = puny (which is the same word), inferior. 43. A noble goose. The adjective is obviously ironical. 47. Of love. That is, of the want of it (Schmidt). See on ii. 3. 12 above, and cf. iii. 2. 30. 48. Who. See on iii. 2. 306. 51. Pageant. Cf. M. N. D. iii. 2. 114: "Shall we their fond pageant see ? " In S. the word always means a theatrical perform- ance, literal or figurative. 52. Pale complexioti. Perhaps alluding to the popular belief that the heart lost a drop of blood with every sigh. Cf. M. N. D. iii. 2. 96 : — " All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer, With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear," etc. Scene V] Notes 223 Scene V. — 5. Falls. For the transitive use cf. Temp. ii. i. 296, V. I. 64,/. C. iv. 2. 26, etc. 6. But first begs. Without first begging. See on iii. 2. 47 above. 7. Z)zV^ and lives. Lives and dies, gets his whole livelihood. Mr. Arrowsmith (^Notes and Queries, ist series, vii. 542) compares Romaunt of the Rose, 5790 : — " With sorrow they both die and live That unto richesse her hertes geve ; " and Barclay, Ship of Fooles, 1570: — " He is a foole, and so shall he dye and line, That thinketh him wise, and yet can he nothing." 11. Sure. Surely. Cf. Tefnp. i. 2. 388, ii. i. 315, etc. 12. FraiVst. This contraction of superlatives is common in S. Cf. "civil'st" (2 Hen. VI. iv. 7. 66), -'kind'st" (^Macb. ii. i. 24), "stern'st" (/ 3(11), 4(54)- Whole no. 316. Sir Oliver Martext : iii. 3(5). Whole no. 5. Appendix 277 Corin: ii. 4(26); iii. 2(37), 4(10); v, 1(2), Whole no. 75. Silvius: 11.4(19); 111.5(29); Iv. 3(14); v. 2(13), 4(1). Whole no. 76. William: v. i(ii). Whole no. ii. Hyjnen : v. 4(24) . Whole no. 24. \st Lord i^Duke) : 11. 1(39), 7(3); Iv. 2(1). Whole no. 43. 2d Lord {Dtike) : 11. I (2). Whole no. 2. 1st Lord (^Frederick) : 11. 2(4). Whole no. 4. 2d Lord (^Frederick) : 11. 2(9). Whole no. 9. Forester: Iv. 2(10). Whole no. 10. \st Page : v. 3(31). Whole no. 31. 2d Page : v. 3(27). Whole no. 27. ^^^a/m^.- 1. 2(63), 3(57); 11.4(26); 111.2(192), 4(22), 5(43); iv. i(i53)» 3(74); V. 2(74), 4(45). Whole no. 749. Celia: i. 2(93), 3(66); 11. 4(7); 111. 2(72), 4(32); iv. 1(12), 3(22). Whole no. 304. Phebe: Hi. 5(72); v. 2(9), 4(6). Whole no. 87. Audrey : ill. 3(12); v. 1(7), 3(4). Whole no. 23. ''Air {Song) : v. 4(6). Whole no. 6. In the above enumeration, parts of lines are counted as whole lines, making the total of the play greater than it is. The actual number of lines in each scene (Globe edition numbering) is as follows: 1. I (180), 2(301), 3(140); 11. 1(69), 2(21), 3(76), 4(100), 5(65). 6(19), 7(203); iii. 1(18), 2(457), 3(109), 4(62), 5(139); iv. 1(224), 2(19), 3(184); V. 1(69), 2(135), 3(49); 4(228). Whole no. in the play, 2867. Rosalind has more lines than any other of Shakespeare's women. Cleopatra comes next, with 670 lines; then Imogen, with 596; Portia {M. of V.), with 589; and Juliet, with 541. At the other end of the list (counting only important female characters) are Miranda, with 142 lines ; Cordelia, Lady Capulet, and the Queen in Richard LL., with 115 each; and Portia {/. C), with 92. In T. of A. the female characters have only 15 lines in all. INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED a (= one), 241. a (transposed), 170. abused (= deceived), 225, 231. accord (= consent), 247. acres, 242. action (trisyllable), 232. addressed (= prepared), 248. adventure, 195. after (= afterwards), 248. against, 229. ages (of life), 204. alack, 233. Aliena (accent), 186. allotery, 172. all points, 185. along (= at full length), 189, 215. a many, 173. amaze (= confuse), 178. am remembered, 226. anatomize, 174, 201. and all at once, 223. a-night, 195. answered (= satisfied), 203. antique, 189. apart (= aside), 233. April, 229. Arden, 172. are (= have), 179. argument (= cause), 182, 207. as (= namely), 188, 237. as (omitted), 191. aspect, 233. assayed (= tried), 186. Atalanta's better part, 211. at an instant, 184. at heart, 180. at large, 248. atomies, 214. atone together, 246. Audrey, 219. bandy, 238. banquet, 198. Barbary cock-pigeon, 229. basest function, 202. batlet, 195. Bay of Portugal, 231. bear (play upon), 194. beard, 205. beggarly thanks, 197. beholding (= beholden), 228. be naught awhile, 170. bestow (reflexive), 234. better, I were, 221. better world (= better times), 1S2. bid (= bade), 232. bills (weapons), 178. blood (= kinship), 171, 193- blood (= passion), 244. blue eye, 218. bob (= rap), 201. body, 190, 237. boldened, 203. bolt (= arrow), 244. bonnet (= hat), 218. bonny, 191. books for good manners, 246. bottom (= valley), 234. bounden, 182. bounds of feed, 196, 225. bow (= ox-bow), 220. brave (= fine), 222. bravery (= finery), 203. breather, 216. breed (= bring up), 170. 279 brief, 237. bring out (= put out), 215. broke (= broken), 195. broken music, 178. brotherly (adverb), 174. brutish (sting), 202. buckles in, 211. bugle (adjective), 224. burden (of song), 215. burghers, 189. bush (vintner's sign), 250. but (= without), 208, 223. butchery, 192. but erewhile, 196. but even now, 199. but justly as, 180. butterwomen's rank, 209. by (= aside), 215. by and by, 236. by your patience, 249. cage of rushes, 217. calling (= appellation), 180, 221. capable, 223. caparisoned, 213. capricious, 219. carlot, 225. cast (= cast ofT), 221. Celia (trisyllable), 186. censure (=judgment), 227. character (.verb), 207. chase, 183. cheerly, 199. chid (past tense), 234. child's father, my, 182. chopt, 195. chroniclers, 228. cicatrice, 223. civil (= civilized), 210. clap into 't roundly, 241. clap o' the shoulder, 228. clubs, 239. 2 8o Index of Words and Phrases cods, 195. combine (= bind) , 247. come in (= intervene), 202. come off (= escape), 176. come your ways, 180, 193- comfort, 199. commandment, 203. commission, 228. common (adverb), 185. compact, 199. compact (accent), 242. complexion, pale, 222. conceit, 199, 239, 242. condition (= temper), 181. conduct, in his own, 248. conference, 181. confines (accent), 189. conjure (accent), 250. conned, 216. consent and sufferance, 191. constant (= faithful), 193. constant (= uniform), 225. contents (accent), 232. content with my harm, 209. contrive (= plot), 173, 236. contriver, 173. conversed, 240. convertites, 249. cony, 217. cope, 190. copulatives, 244. cote (= cottage), 196. could (= would), i8o- could find in my heart, 194. countenance, 170. counter, 202. countercheck, 245. coursed, 190. courtship (= court life), 217. cousin, 183, 237. cousin (= niece) , 183. cover (= set the table), 197. covered goblet, 222. coz, 175. cross (= penny), 194. crow (= laugh) , 200. cry mercy, 224, curtle-axe, 185. curvets, 215. damnable, 240. dark (= in the dark), 224. dear (play upon), 183. dearly (= heartily), 183. deep-contemplative, 200. defied (= slighted), 251. description (quadrisylla- ble), 234. desperate, 243. device, 174. dial (= watch) , 200. Diana in the fountain, 229. dies and lives, 223. disable (= disparage), 227,244. dishonest (= immodest), 241. dislimn, 206. disputable, 198. diverted (blood), 193. do (idiomatic), 178. dog-apes, 197. do him right, 203. dole, 178. doublet, 194. drave, 219. draw homewards, 237. ducdame, 198. dulcet diseases, 244. duty (= respect), 240. east (= eastern) , 209. eat (= eaten), 203. effigies (accent), 206. embossed, 202. emulator, 173. enforcement, 203. engage (= pledge) , 248. entame, 224. envenoms, 192. envious (= malicious), 180. erewhile, 225. erring (= wandering) ,210. estate (verb), 238. Ethiope, 233. every of, 248. exile (accent), 186. exiled (accent), 248. expediently, 207. extent, 207. extermined, 225. extreme (accent), 190. extremest, 190. extremity, in, 226. eyne, 233. fair (= beauty), 209. falcon, 220. fall (= befall) , 249. fall to, 206. falls (transitive), 223. false gallop, 209. fancy (= love), 223, 247. fancy-monger, 217. fantasy (= love) , 194, 240. fashion sake, 215. favour (= face), 176, 234. feature, 219. feeder (= shepherd) , 196. fells, 208. female, 238. finish (intransitive), 247. first-born of Egypt, 198. fleet (transitive), 173. flout, 221, 238. flux, 190. fond (= foolish), 191. fool, 188. fool's bolt, 244. for (= as regards), 236. for (= because) , 210. for (= for want of) , 196, 198, 203. forked heads, 189. foul (= plain), 220, 224. frail'st, 223. free (= innocent), 203. friendly (adverb), 224. function (= office) , 202. furnished, 250. gamester, 174. Gargantua, 214. gesture (= bearing), 240. giant-rude, 233. gilded, 228, 235. go about, 175. goats (play upon), 219. go buy, 172. God be wi' you, 215, 227. God 'ield you, 220, 242. God rest you merry, 238. God warn us, 228. God ye good even, 238. goldenly, 170. golden world, 173. gondola, 227. good leave, 172. good my complexion, 213. good my liege, 184. go sleep, 198. go to^ 228. Index of Words and Phrases 281 grace, 191. grace (verb), 240. graces, 225. gracious, 179. graff, 210. gravelled, 228. great reckoning in a little room, 220. ground, 215. grow upon me, 172. had as lief, 173, 215. had rather, 194. handkercher, 235, 239, hard adventure, 195. hard-favoured, 220. have with you, 181. having (= possession), 218. he (= him), 174. he (=man), 208, 218. headed, 202. heart (play upon), 215. hem them away, 182. him (= he whom), 171. hinds (= servants), 170. hire (= wages), 193. his (= its), 206. holla, 215. holly (songs of), 206. holy bread, 221. honest (= chaste), 176, 220. hose (= breeches), 194, 205. hour (dissyllable), 242. housewife, 176. humorous, 181, 227. hurtling, 236. huswife, 176, 233. hyen, 229. I (=me), 175, 181. if that, 183. ill-favouredly, 176. ill-inhabited, 220. impressure, 223. inaccessible, 203. incision, 209. incontinent, 239. inconvenient, 240. in (duplicated), 203. Ind, 209. indented, 235. inland bred, 203. in lieu of, 193. in little, 211. in my voice, 196. in parcels, 226. inquisition, 191. insinuate with, 250. insomuch, 240. instance (= proof), 208. instances, 205. instrument, 234. intendment, 173. intermission (metre), 200. in that kind, 189. invention, 198. Irish rat, 213. irks, 188. it is (contemptuous), 173, 225. Jaques, i8g. jars (= discords), 199. Jove's tree, 215. Judas's hair, 221. Juno's swans, 184. just (=just so), 216. justly, 180. kill up, 190. kind (= nature), 203, 209, 234- . . ^ kindle (= incite), 175. kindled (=born), 217. knoUed, 203. lack, 230. Lady Fortune, 176. laid on with a trowel, 178. lay along, 189. learn (= teach), 175. leer (= look), 228. lief, 174. like (=had like), 243. like (= likely), 175, 242. liked (= pleased), 251. limned, 206. lined, 209. live i' the sun, to, 198. lively (= lifelike), 243. liver, 219. living (= real), 219. look (= look for), 198, look you, 194. loose (=let fall), 225. lover (feminine), 222, 240. low (of stature), 235. lusty, 225, 232. make (= do), 170, 191, 214. make (= earn), 234. make even, 243. make the doors, 229. manage (noun), 170. manners (play upon), 208. mannish, 186. marry, 170. material, 220. matter (= sense), 190, 242. May, 229. me (reflexive), 179. measure ( = dance) , 243, 249. measured swords, 245. meat and drink to me, 237. medlar, 210. memory (= memorial), 191. merely, 219. mettle, 203. mewling, 204. might (=may), 179. mines, 170. misconsters, 181. misprised, 175, 179. misused, 230. modern (= trivial), 227. moe, 215, moonish, 219. moral (verb), 200. moralize, 190. more sounder, 208. more worthier, 220. mortal (= very), 196. motley, 199. music (broken), 178. mutiny, 170. mutton (= sheep) , 208. myself alone, 215. napkin (= handkerchief), 235- native, 217. natural (=fool), 176. natural (= legitimate), 173- naught, 170, 176, 208. necessary, 220. needless (= not needing) , 190. new-fallen, 249. new-fangled, 229. nice (= affected), 227. nine days' wonder, 212. no more do yours, 192. 282 Index of Words and Phrases nor did not, 193, 241. nor none, 175, 223. note (= tune) , 198. nuptial, 239. nurture (= culture) , 203. O sweet Oliver, 221. obscured (= hidden), 243. observance, 214, 240. observation, 201. Od's my little life, 224. Od's my will, 233. of (= by), 190, 217. of (duplicated), 203. of (=in), 237. of (with verbals) , 195, 199. offer'st fairly, 248. of might, 225. often (adjective), 227. old custom, 186. on, 170, 182. on my life, 182. only (transposed), 175, 179, 241. on such a sudden, 182. out (= at a loss), 228. outface it, 186. out of suits, 180. pageant, 222. painted cloth, 216. pantaloon, 205. parlous, 208. parts (= gifts), 180, 191. passing (adverb), 226. pathetical, 230. patience (trisyllable) , 184. peascod, 195. peevish (= silly), 225. penalty of Adam, 186. perforce, 175. perpend, 208. persever, 238. petitionary, 213. Phebes (verb), 233. phoenix. 232. physic (verb), 172. pick-purse, 221. place, 192. please (impersonal), 172, 179. point-device, 218. poke (= pocket) , 200. politic, 227. pompous, 249. poverty (concrete), 184. power (= army) , 248. practices (= plots), 192. practise (intransitive) , 174. prayers (dissyllable) , 234. presence (play upon) ,178. presentation, 246. presently, 199. princess (plural), 179. priser, 191. private (= lonely), 208. private (= particular), 202. profit(= proficiency), 170. promotion (quadrisylla- ble), 193. proper (= comely), 178. properer, 224. provide (reflexive), 184. puisny, 222. purchase (= get), 217. pure, 176. purgation, 183, 243. purlieus, 234. put on us, 177. Pythagoras, 213. quail, 191. question (= talk), 218, 248. quintain, 181. quintessence, 211. quip, 244. quit (reflexive), 207. quotidian, 217. ragged (= rough), 197. railed on, 200. rank (play upon), 178. ranker, 228. rankness, 172. rascal, 220. raw (= green) , 209. reason of, 176. recks, 196. recountments, 236. recovered, 226, 237. religious, 217, 248. remembered, 206. remorse (=pity), 184. removed (= retired), 217. render (= describe), 236. render (= give back) , 175. resolve (= solve), 214. rest (= remain), 182. reverence, 171. right (= downright), 209. ring time, 242. ripe (= mature), 235. ripe (verb), 200. Rosalind, 175. roynish, 191. sad (= serious), 214. safest haste, 183. sale-work, 224. sans, 200, 206. sauce, 225. saws (= maxims) , 205, 225. scape, 209. school (= university), 170. scrip, 212. seasons' difference, 186. see (music), 178. seeming (adverb) , 244. se'nnight, 216. senseless, 201. sentence end, 211. sententious, 244. sequestered, 189. settled low content, 193. seven ages of life, 204. shadow, 231. shall (= must, 173), 238. shame (intransitive), 236. she (= woman) , 208. should, 212. should down, 180. should (= would), 180. show (= appear), 184. shrewd (= evil), 248, sighing like furnace, 205. simples, 227. simply (= indeed), .218, 230. Sir, 220. sirrah, 237. smother (noun), 182. snake, 234. so (omitted), 178, 207. so (=if), 175. solemn (= earnest), 194. some, 223. sooth, 218. so please you, 172, 179, 233- , ^ sorts (= ranks), 175. south (= south wind), 224. South Sea of discovery, 214. speak (= say), 241. speed (= patron), 180. spheres (music of) , 199. Index of Words and Phrases 283 spleen (= caprice), 231. spoke (participle), 172. sport (play upon ?), 177. squander, 201. stagger (= waver) , 220. stalking-horse, 246. stand with, 196. stanzo, 197. states (= estates), 248. stay (= wait for), 214. stays (=detains), 170, 184. still (= constantly), 180, 184, 208. still music, 246. sting, 202. stir (= excite), 185. straight (adverb) , 226. strange places, 201, strong at heart, 237. subject (accent), 192. successfully, 179. sudden (= passionate) , 205. suddenly, 191. suflficed, 204. suit me (= dress myself), 185. suit (play upon), 201, 228. sure (= surely), 223, 247. sure (= united) , 247. swaggerer, 232. swashing, 186. sweat (past tense), 193. sweet my coz, 175. swift (= ready), 244. sworn, 227. swore brothers, 246. synod, 212. ta'en up (= made up) , 243. take a good heart, 237. take no scorn, 232. tame (= subdue) , 224. tapster (the word of a), 222. tax (= censure), 202, 217. taxation (= censure), 177. tempered, 175. tender dearly, 240. that (conjunctional affix), 183, 185, 202, 225. that1;= so that), 178. thither (= thereto), 175. thought (=love), 231. thrasonical, 239. thrice-crowned, 207. thrifty (proleptic), 193. to (= with regard to), 236. toad-stone, 188. too late a week, 193. touches, 212. toward (= at hand), 243. traverse (= crosswise) , 222. treasure (= enrich), 191. troth, by my, 177, 216, 241. trow, 213. turn (a note), 197. turn him going, 207. turn (= return) , 207. turned into, 233. unbashful, 193. uncouth, 199. underhand, 173. unexpressive, 208. ungentleness, 240. unhandsome, 249. unkind, 206. unquestionable, 218. unto, 180. untreasured, 191. untuneable, 242. up (intensive), 190. upon, 196, 204. use, 192. vein, 203. velvet, 190. vengeance, 233. verity, 222. villain, 171. virtuous, 184. voice, in my, 196. ware (= aware) , 196. warp, 206. was (= has been), 228. waste (= spend), 196. weak (proleptic), 204. weaker vessel, 194. wear (= dress), 200. wearing(=wearying), 194. weeping tears, 195. well breathed, 180. well said, 199. wert best, thou, 174. what, 173, 196, 222. what had he to do, etc., 226. what though ? 220. wherein, 179, 214. while, the, 197. whiles, 204, 242. who (=whom), 216, 222. whooping, 213. wide-enlarged, 211. wind (=wend), 221. winter's sisterhood, 221. wise men (accent), 177. wiser (adverb), 196. wit, whither wilt ? 176, 230. with (=for), 183. with (=from). 214. withal, 173, 176. woman of the world, 241, woo (= gain over), 186. working, 179. working-day (adjective) , 182. world (hyperbolical) , 205 world (= times), 182. wrath (= ardour) , 239. wrestler (spelling), 172. wrestler (trisyllable), 191 year (plural), 216, 240. yet (transposed), 175. you (expletive), 209. young, 171. your (colloquial), 221. youth and kmd, 234. 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