dpE!SlT-5'#ERICS 
 
 ^^TS^^''" Of 
 
 Skak^eSpe are's 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap. Copyright No.. 
 
 Shelf.AL35 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
t^ 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDY 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 
 BY 
 
 KATHARINE LEE BATES 
 
 Wellesley College 
 
 ^ Music and poesy tise to quicken you.^' 
 
 Taming of the Shrew, i, i, 36. 
 
 LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, 
 
 BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 
 

 Copyright, 1896, 
 By Leach, Shewell, & Sanbokn. 
 
 Typography by C. J. Peters & Son, Boston. 
 Pkesswork by Berwick & Smith. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This school edition of As You Like It has been 
 preceded, in The Students' Series of English Classics, 
 by like editions of The Merchant of Venice and A 
 Midsumvier-Nighf s Dream. In the Introduction to 
 The Merchant of Venice may be found a brief sketch 
 to Shakespeare's life, and of the antecedent groAvth of 
 the English drama, with references, and a condensed 
 account, with references, of Elizabethan copyright and 
 the history of Shakesperian criticism. The Introduc- 
 tion to As You Like It is confined to the play in 
 question. 
 
 The notes, as before, are placed in three groups, — 
 textual, for the use of more advanced classes, that are 
 interested in seeing how far the play they read is the 
 play originally printed ; grammatical, for the use of 
 students who would familiarize themselves with Eliza- 
 bethan idiom ; and literary ; this third group of notes 
 being, in the judgment of the editor, more fruitful and 
 appropriate, especially for beginners, than the two tech- 
 nical divisions. In classes where textual and .srranimati- 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 cal work is done, it is believed better to separate these 
 special lines of investigation from the essential study of 
 the play. 
 
 It must be confessed that annotation and comment 
 of any sort whatever, in case of the sweetest wildwood 
 fantasy that poet . ever penned, sometimes strike the 
 mind as more incongruous than the melancholy Jaques 
 in Arden. Yet even Jaques, though saucy youth may 
 take him for "either a fool or a cipher," has his func- 
 tion, if but to "'moralize this spectacle." 
 
 KATHAMNE LEE BATES. 
 Wellesley College, 
 September, 1896. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Peeface iii 
 
 Intkoduction — 
 
 I. History of the Play . 1 
 
 II. Sources 12 
 
 III. Structure 48 
 
 lY. Treatment 54 
 
 As You Like It 61 
 
 Notes — 
 
 Textual 167 
 
 Grammatical 176 
 
 Literary 190 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I. HISTORY OF THE PLAY. 
 
 We have no reason to suppose that Shakespeare ever read 
 As You Like It in print. Our earliest known text is that 
 of the First Folio, the famous Folio of 1623, a collection 
 of Shakespeare's published and unpublished dramas, issued 
 seven years after his death by his loyal comrades and fellow- 
 players, " old stuttering " Heminge and the popular comedian 
 Condell ; glad so to have " done an office to the dead, . . . 
 without ambition either of self-profit or fame ; only to keep 
 the memory of so worthy a Friend and Fellow alive as was 
 our ShakesjDeare." It is worth noting here that to these men, 
 after a lapse of nearly three hundred years, the compunction 
 of Shakespeare lovers has at last, this summer of 1896, erected 
 a memorial monument. It stands in the churchyard of St. 
 Mary the Virgin, Aldermanbury, London, and bears the in- 
 scription : " To the memory of John Heminge and Henry 
 Condell, fellow-actors and personal friends of Shakespeare. 
 They lived many years in this parish, and are buried here. 
 To their disinterested affection the world owes all that it 
 calls Shakespeare. They alone collected his dramatic writ- 
 ings regardless of pecuniary loss, and without the hope of any 
 
 1 
 
2 INTE 01) UCTION. 
 
 profit gave them to the world. They thus merited the grati- 
 tude of mankind." 
 
 An effort was made, apparently about 1600, to print this 
 comedy as one of the cheap playbooks, usually pirated edi- 
 tions, known to Shakespeare students as the quartos. Against 
 these " stolne and surreptitious copies," whose hasty and care- 
 less publication not only deformed the text, but tended to 
 sate jDublic curiosity regarding new plays, and so slacken the 
 flow of pennies into the box-office, the theatrical companies 
 of the day, especially that to which Shakespeare belonged, and 
 which consequently suffered most, loudly protested. Among 
 the more unscrupulous stationers, or publishers, was one James 
 Roberts, who, in the year 1600, brought out quartos of The 
 Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Dr. Fur- 
 ness surmises (see Variorum, article on Text) that it was s5me 
 connection of Roberts with the attempt on As You Like It, 
 which led to the order " to be staled." These words are 
 written in the Stationers' Registers against the name of this 
 play, with three others, Hennj V., Much Ado About Nothing, and 
 Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humour, grouped together 
 under the mere date Aug. 4, between entries of May, 1600, 
 and June, 1603. Henry V. was duly licensed Aug. 14, 1600, 
 and printed in what is apparently a garbled and curtailed 
 -form. Much Ado About Nothing waited for sanction only un- 
 til Aug. 23; and Every Man in His Humour was published 
 the following year. But in the case oi As You Like It, the 
 " staying," from whatever cause it proceeded, apparently 
 remained in force. For nearly a quarter of a century the pre- 
 cious play was tossed about in manuscript, taking its chances 
 of being " by shifting and change of companies . . . negli- 
 gently lost." As finally printed in the First Folio, however. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 the text is singularly free from corruption. Later editors 
 have had little to do except insert or amplify stage direc- 
 tions, correct a few more or less obvious misprints, revise 
 the Elizabethan punctuation, mend here and there a halt- 
 ing line, piece out one or two broken passages (notably II., 
 vii., 55), and fret themselves fruitlessly over ducdame. There 
 are, moreover, some three or four slight errors in the play, 
 probably chargeable to haste or Arden carelessness on Shake- 
 speare's part. Had he forgotten the name of the " Second 
 Brother" when he dubbed the cynic of the forest Jaques 1 
 And again (I., ii., 79) does he confuse the names of the 
 two dukes, or was the compositor at fault in printing Ros. 
 for Cel. 1 Juno's Swans for Venus's Swans (I., iii., 75) is a 
 venial sli]3 in a poet who made no pretensions to pedantry; 
 but that Shakespeare should lose sight of his two princesses, 
 and even for a moment think Celia the taller (I., ii., 267), is 
 so incredible that many editors would again throw the blame 
 on the printer, and read lesser or smaller. 
 
 The later folios substantially reprinted the play from the 
 first text ; although the Second Polio ventured upon a. few 
 slight alterations, — in two or three instances for-the better, 
 in as many more for the worse. 
 
 The exact date at which this comedy was written cannot 
 be ascertained. As a later limit, there is the mention of As 
 you like yt \ a booke in the Stationers' Eegisters, Aug. 4, 1600. 
 As an earlier limit of a negative sort, we have the famous list 
 of six Shakespearian comedies and six Shakespearian tragedies 
 given by Francis j\Ieres in his Palladis Tamia (Treasmy of 
 Wit), entered in the Stationers' Registers Sept. 7, 1598. As 
 You Like It does not appear in this list, probably because it 
 was not then in existence, possibly because it was still so new 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a play that Meres had not chanced to see it. In partial con- 
 firmation of this partial evidence that the ]Dlay was written 
 later than the summer of 1598, we have a welcome allusion 
 (III., v., 80-81) to Marlowe : — 
 
 "Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might. 
 Who ever lov'cl that lov'cl not at first sight ?^' 
 
 The " saw " is quoted from Marlowe's rich and passionate 
 poem, Hero and Leander, published in the spring or early 
 summer of 1598, five years after the author's death. It is 
 more than likely that Shakespeare had known his rival's 
 work in manuscript; but the playhouse audience, apparently 
 expected to recognize and respond to the allusion, probably 
 had the printed poem in mind as a fresh enjoyment. 
 
 In general, we may be sure that this play, the crown of 
 Shakespeare's golden achievement in romantic comedy, was 
 written in his buoyant prime of manhood, while as yet the 
 sunshine of his spirit was all but cloudless. The era of 
 dramatic hesitation and experiment lay behind him. His 
 mastery of historical drama, as of romantic comedy, was 
 secured. The great, dark task of tragedy, destined to open 
 out into ideal visions of peace and pardon, waited him be- 
 yond. It was " in happy hour " that Shakespeare turned 
 
 "his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat" 
 
 of the forest of Arden. 
 
 Of the delight elicited by the play in Shakespeare's own 
 time, of the volleys of applause that must have answered 
 Eosalind's farewell " curtsy," no echo has come down. There 
 is a tradition, however, that the poet himself took the part of 
 
INTROBUCTION. O 
 
 Adam. This is quoted by Steevens, one of the eighteenth- 
 century editors, as found in "the manuscript papers of the 
 late Mr. Oldys." Oldys was an antiquary, who had a novel 
 method of storing away slips of paper, scribbled over with his 
 notes, in parchment bags which he kept hanging from the 
 walls of his room. A rummage among these brought forth 
 the following story, clearly not altogether accurate, but prob- 
 ably right enough in the central circumstance : — 
 
 "One of Shakespeare's younger brothers, who lived to a 
 good old age, even some years, as I compute, after the restora- 
 tion of King Charles II., 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 dramatick 
 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 to learn some- 
 thing 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 
 especially 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 injfirmities (which 
 might make him the easier pass for a man of weak intellects), 
 that he could give them but little light into their inquiries ; 
 and all that could be recollected from him of his brother Will 
 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 
 
6 IN TROD UCTION. 
 
 comedies, whereiD, 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." 
 
 There seems to have been no revival of ^45 You Like It after 
 the closing of the theatres by Fnritan influence in 1642 un- 
 til the production at Drury Lane in 1723 of a preposterous 
 jumble entitled Love in a Forest. This was the work of one 
 Charles Johnson, a flagrant plagiarist, who, after turning out 
 by his peculiar process some nineteen stage-pieces, judiciously 
 married a fortune, and set up a tavern. In his prologue he 
 speaks kindly of Shakespeare as " irregularly great," and ex- 
 plains that his own attempt is to " refine " the rude old poet's 
 
 "Now — ^s You Like it, judge the following Play, 
 And when you view this Work retriev'd to Day; 
 Forgive our modern Author's Honest Zeal, 
 He hath attempted boldly, if not well: 
 Believe, he only does with Pain, and Care, 
 Presume to weed the beautiful Parterre. 
 His whole Ambition does, at most, aspire 
 To tune the sacred Bard's immortal Lyre; 
 The Scene from Time and Error to restore, 
 And give the Stage, from Shakespear one Play more." 
 
 Here we have grafted on the maimed plot of ^s You Like 
 It speeches from Richard IL, Love's Labour's Lost, and Tivelfth 
 Night, with touches of repartee from Much Ado About Nothing, 
 capped in the fifth act by the Pyramus and Thisbe burlesque 
 from A Midsummer-Night's Dream. These fragments are 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 clumsily cemented with balderdash of Johnson's own. "We 
 miss from the play Touchstone, Audrey, William, Silvius, 
 Phebe, and Corin. At the outset, Charles, the "Master of 
 the Duke's Academy," impeaches Orlando of treason. They 
 exchange in the lists the ringing defiances of Bolingbroke and 
 Norfolk, The forest scenes are largely devoted to love-making 
 between Jaques and Celia, for whose first meeting the dialogue 
 of Touchstone and Audrey is furbished up. Their loving is 
 hardly of the convincing sort, Celia herself says : " Jaques' 
 Love looks a little awkward ; it does not sit so easy on him. 
 ... I think he has got an Inch or two into my Heart." 
 There is one peculiarly exasperating dialogue between Jaques 
 and Rosalind, where Jaques's part is made up mainly of bits 
 ruthlessly slashed out from Biron's fine speech at the close 
 of the third act in Love's Labour's Lost. In the outcome, 
 Oliver, to prevent arrest for his discovered villanies, commits 
 suicide, his lands falling to Orlando. Hymen makes fast 
 Orlando and Rosalind, Jaques and Celia, and " Robert du 
 Bois " closes the play with the news of the usurping duke's 
 conversion. 
 
 This thing "of shreds and patches" had a run of six 
 nights, and was followed in 1739 by The Modern Receipt; or, A 
 Cure for Love, by "J. C." Of his performance this gentleman 
 blandly says : " I have taken the Liberty to make some Altera- 
 tions in the Plot, and Catastrophe, as well as in Great Part of 
 the Language : the Character of Hillario is entirely new, as is 
 that of Marcellus in a great measure." 
 
 In point of fact, Hillario, " a merry courtier, attending on 
 the Princesses," is a compound of Touchstone and Le Beau, 
 speaking the words 'now of one and now of the other ; while 
 Marcellus is Jaques transformed into the conventional woman- 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 hater of stage and novel. Ben Jonson has a similar character 
 put through a somewhat similar discipline ; for Celia takes it 
 upon herself to tame this bear of the woods. Marcellus is 
 introduced plagiarizing Milton : — 
 
 " Hail ]Dleasing Horrors of the silent Shade ! Hail friendly 
 Solitude ! . . . How happy must our first Parent Adam have 
 been in his blest Solitude ! how agreeable his Life ! till Wo- 
 man " — and then comes the flood of invective. 
 
 Hillario's first impression of this "old" gentleman " — as 
 Audrey, we remember, dubbed Jaques — is not a flattering 
 one. 
 
 " What that hagged ill-looking Fellow in Black? Why he 
 looks like one of the Sons of ^N'oah, in deep mourning for his 
 Great-grandfather. He must be an Antediluvian that's cer- 
 tain ; for I'm sure such people as he have not been in Fashion 
 o' this Side the Flood." 
 
 Rosalind's teasing of Orlando about the marks of a lover 
 now becomes Orlando's teasing of Jaques ; for Celia plies 
 him with somewhat open blandishments until she has beaten 
 down his prejudice, and elicited a passionate avowal of love, 
 when she forthwith laughs him to scorn. By the roguish 
 offices of Touchstone-Le-Beau, a reconciliation is finally ef- 
 fected. The pastoral element in Arden is represented by a 
 single shepherd, who performs Corin's function in the play, 
 but is not Corin ; for he expressly announces that the farm he 
 sells " was old Corin's, but he's gone, poor Soul ! he died, let 
 me see, it's a Month ago, I think, come Wednesday." 
 
 There is an eighteenth-century veneer over the language 
 of the comedy, with the fashionable cynicism of the times. 
 Jaques, «Zms Marcellus, explains the second title as he leads 
 Celia before the altar : — 
 
INTR OD UCTION. U 
 
 "By frequent Instances we sadly prove, 
 That Marriage is the surest Cure for Love." 
 
 Even George Sand, in her celebrated French adaptation, 
 Comme il vous plaira (1856), insists on marrying Celia to 
 Jaques, who is rather more prominent in the play than the 
 gallant Orlando himself. Earlier than the wrestling-match, 
 Jaques presents himself before the princesses as a messenger 
 who brings to Rosalind greetings from her outlawed father. 
 The tyrant duke detects her giving to Jaques a letter for the 
 royal exile, and orders her into banishment forthwith. The 
 maidens escape to Arden under the double escort of Jaques 
 and Touchstone. The exiled duke and his daughter are 
 promptly reunited ; Celia is hidden away, for safety, in a 
 convenient castle belonging to Jaques, already her ardent 
 lover ; a search party, led by Charles the Wrestler, comes and 
 goes ; there is a duel between Orlando and Jaques, the latter 
 jealously suspecting that Orlando's love-verses are intended 
 for Celia; Oliver appears to charge Adam and Orlando with 
 robbing him of the money claimed by the old servant as his 
 hoarded wages, but is himself proved guilty of the plot against 
 Orlando's life. The duke would have the unnatural brother 
 straightway hurled to his death from a high rock, but Or- 
 lando's generous pleadings bring about a pardon. Rosalind's 
 hand rewards her lover's virtues. Audrey, at the eleventh 
 hour, turns again from Touchstone to William, and Celia 
 woos and wins the melancholy Jaques, who is thus effectively 
 converted to optimism. 
 
 In the German adaptations, of which there were seven be- 
 tween 1848 and 1870, there is no such shifting of the romantic 
 centre, no such failnire to grasp the harmony of the design, but 
 the forest scenes are generally much compressed. 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In 1740 As You Like It was restored to the English stage, 
 henceforth a permanent possession. The lack of opportunity 
 for a star actor has made it less a favorite with theatrical 
 managers than Much Ado About Nothing, where Beatrice, witty 
 as she is, does not overshadow Benedict as Rosalind does 
 Orlando ; or Tiuelfth Night, where Malvolio gives " the leading 
 gentleman " a chance ; but the public always has a welcome 
 for this brightest idyl of the stage. Few actors have won 
 conspicuous laurels in the masculine roles oi As You Like It. 
 The comely young Charles Kemble made a picturesque Or- 
 lando. Quin and Young, both noted for elocution, gained 
 applause in the long speeches of Jaques, as did Sheridan, of 
 whom Dr. Johnson had said : " Sir, it must be allowed that 
 Sheridan excels in plain declamation, though he can exhibit 
 no character." Macklin's Touchstone was criticised as want- 
 ing in volubility ; but King roused the enthusiasm of Hazlitt 
 as the ideal jester, " with wdt sprouting from his head like a 
 pair of ass's ears, and folly perched on his cap like the horned 
 owl." 
 
 It is the impersonation of Rosalind that has built up the- 
 atrical fames. This is remembered as the last role of the 
 beautiful Margaret Woffington, " lovely Peggy, " who broke 
 down in the epilogue with the cry, " O God ! God ! " and 
 staggered off the stage, never to reappear. Ellen Tree, after- 
 wards Mrs. Charles Kean, made in her youth a delightful 
 Rosalind, noted for the blithesome laugh that led the audience 
 to laugh in unison. Adelaide Neilson rendered with exquisite 
 effect Rosalind's sparkling and delicate playfulness. Mary 
 Anderson was especially good in her banter of Phebe ; while 
 Mme. Modjeska emphasizes Rosalind's high courage. In the 
 latter part of the eighteenth century, Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 Jordan divided the plaudits of London, Mrs. Siddons, " the 
 stateliest ornament of the public mind," acted the part with 
 royal dignity, with womanly tenderness and depth of feel- 
 ing, with an underlying sadness appropriate to such broken 
 and uncertain fortunes. But even her admiring biographer, 
 Campbell, protests against the " Siddonian majesty" as here 
 displayed. He holds that her Rosalind was not merry and 
 arch enough, lacking " the gay and feathery lightness " neces- 
 sary to the play. 
 
 <'^ In As You Like It" he says, " Rosalind is the soul of the 
 piece ; aided only by the Clown (and O that half the so-called 
 wise were as clever as Shakespeare's clowns !), she has to 
 redeem the wildness of a forest, and the dulness of rustic 
 life. Her wit and beauty have ' to throw a sunshine in the 
 shady place.' " 
 
 Campbell, however carelessly he quotes his Spenser, was 
 probably right about Mrs. Siddons as Rosalind. Her rival, 
 Mrs. Jordan, — that " Miss Tomboy " who, according to Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, " ran up the stage as a playground, and 
 laughed for sincere wildness of delight," — was a more natural 
 interpreter of the madcap of Arden. Boaden called her per- 
 formance " heart in action ; " and the pen of Hazlitt danced in 
 writing her praises, — " the child of nature, whose voice was a 
 cordial to the heart, because it came from it, rich, full, like 
 the luscious juice of the ripe grape ; to hear whose laugh was 
 to drink nectar . . . who ' talked far above singing,' and 
 whose singing was like the twang of Cupid's bow." 
 
 But even Mrs. Jordan's ecstasy of frolic has been eclipsed by 
 the beauty of Helen Faucit's 
 
 "high-hearted Rosalind, 
 Kindling with sunshine all the dusk green wood," 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ^Shakespeare's "heavenly Rosalind," piquant, poetic, enrap- 
 tured with the secret of her love. 
 
 The very qualities which make As You Like It less a 
 magnet on the stage than certain other Shakespearian come- 
 dies adapt it to public reading, in which Mrs. Kemble scored 
 a success, and to amateur presentation, especially open-air 
 performances with charm of sylvan scenery. Good to read 
 in the class-room, better by the evening lamp, it is best out-of- 
 doors — 
 
 " Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook," 
 
 where it may be trusted to lull the most troubled spirit to 
 "a green thought in a green shade." 
 
 II. SOURCES. 
 
 As You Like It is apparently the dramatization of an 
 Elizabethan " novel " or brief romance. The gay court ladies 
 who were entertained by Lyly's Euphues, with its sermonizing 
 paragraphs and fantastic figures of speech, and by Sir Philip 
 Sidney's Arcadia, meandering with a silvery sound through 
 interminable meadows thickset with lambs and lovers, doubt- 
 less had a welcome for Lodge's Rosalynde. The disinherited 
 son of a Lord Mayor of London, an Oxford bachelor of arts 
 and a law-student at Lincoln's Inn, a hot defender of the stage 
 against the stiff young Puritan Gosson, an indifferent play- 
 wright himself, but, at his best, a lyrist exquisitely fresh and 
 free of note. Lodge, hard upon thirty, " falling from books to 
 arms," made a voyage to the Canaries. But the Canary wine 
 that he brought home for his boon companions to tipple " with 
 contented smack " was the vintage of long sunshiny hours on 
 deck, stored up in a quaint pastoral that strikes the modern 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 palate as insipid. The author, however, thought it racy even 
 to wildness : " Roome for a souldier and a sailer, that gives 
 you the fruits of his labors that he wrote in the Ocean, when 
 everie line was wet with a surge, and every humorous passion 
 countercheckt with a storme." Perusal is a perilous adven- 
 ture, for any reader who is not pleased must abide the wrath 
 of this slashing young corsair. " He doune into the hold, and 
 fetch out a rustie poUax, that sawe no sunne this seaven yeare, 
 and either wel bebast him, or heave the cockescombe over 
 boord to feed cods." 
 
 Lodge took his story in part from the old Tale of Gamelyn, 
 a verified narrative, which tells of the knight, Sir Johan 
 of Boundys, his three sons, the oppression of the youngest, 
 Gamelyn, by the eldest, the wrestling, and Gamelyn's flight 
 for life to the forest, attended by the aged servant " Adam the 
 Spencer," who soon wished himself safe home again in his 
 stewardship, counting it better 
 
 "keys for to bear 
 Than to walk in this wildwood my clothes for to tear." 
 
 If this rude ballad ever came to Shakespeare's notice, we 
 may infer that he liked it " full ylle," for the play bears no 
 traces of its immediate influence. But Lodge built upon the 
 ballad, and Shakespeare built either upon Lodge's romance or 
 some lost play embodying it. In the absence of any proof 
 or hint that such play ever existed, it is reasonable to treat 
 As You Like It as Shakespeare's dramatic translation of 
 Rosalynde. The entire text of the novel may be found in 
 Waldron's reprint, 1802; in Collier's Shakespeare's Lihraryy 
 1843, and Hazlitt's, 1875; in Cassell's National Library, 1886, 
 and in Halliwell's folio edition of Shakespeare's works, vol. vi. 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Here the story is given in Lodge's own old-fashioned speech 
 and spelling, without condensation, but with large and frequent 
 omissions in the portions that do not bear directly on the plot 
 or language of the play. 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 There dwelled adjoyning to the Citie of Bordeaux a . . . hardy 
 Knight . . . enricht with vertue and honour, surnamed Sir John of 
 Bourdeux. . . . Many yeares were pourtrayed in his wrinekled linea- 
 ments, that all men might perceive that his glasse was runne. . . . 
 Sir John . . . having three sonnes . . . resolved to leave them a 
 memorial of all his fatherly care, in setting downe a methode of their 
 hrotherly dueties. Having therefore death in his lookes . . . and 
 teares in his eyes ... he began thus. 
 
 " Oh my Sons, ... I must to my grave that dischargeth all cares, 
 and leave you to the world that increaseth many sorrowes. . . . Unto 
 thee Saladyne the eldest ... I give foureteen ploughlands, with all 
 my Manner houses and richest plate. Next unto Fernandine I be- 
 queath twelve ploughlands. But unto Eosader the youngest I give 
 my Horse, my Armour, and my Launce with sixteene ploughlands; 
 for if the inwarde thoughts be discovered by outward shadows, 
 Rosader wil exceed you all in bountie and honour. . . . Let mine 
 honour be the glasse of your actions, and the fame of my vertues the 
 Loadstarre to direct the course of your pilgrimage. . . . Thinke that 
 you are not borne for your selves, but to levell your thoughts to be 
 loyal to your prince, careful for the common-weale, and faythful to 
 your friendes. . . . But above al beware of Love. . . . Cupids wings 
 are plumed with the feathers of vanitie. . . . Keepe my precepts, 
 and let them bee lodged in the secrete of your hearts." . . . 
 
 John of Bordeaux . . . was greatly lamented of his sons. . . . 
 Saladyne . . . clad himselfe and his brothers all in black . . . but 
 . . . under this shewe of grief shaddowed a heart ful of contented 
 thoughts. . . . After a months mourning was past, he fel to consid- 
 eration of his fathers testament ; how hee had bequeathed more to 
 his yoonger brothers than himselfe, that Rosader was his fathers dar- 
 ling, 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 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 due) yet make such havocke of theyr legacies and lands, as they 
 should be a great deal the lighter : whereupon he began thus to medi- 
 tate 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 little, so shall he not be able to execute much, 
 suppresse his wittes with a base estate, and though hee be a Gentle- 
 man by nature, yet forme him anew, and make him a peasant by 
 nourture. So shalt thou keepe him as a slave, and raigne thy sslfe 
 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 til 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 walkyng 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 unnatural 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 to live a foote boy to my 
 own brother? nature hath lent me wit to conceive, but my brother 
 denied mee art to contemplate : I have strength to performe any hon- 
 orable 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 perceiving his beard to bud, for choler hee began to 
 blush, and swore to himselfe he would be no more subject to such 
 slaverie. As thus he was ruminating of his melancholic passions in 
 came Saladyne with his men, and seeing his brother in a browne 
 
16 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 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 halfepeny, or are you saying a Dirge for your fathers soule? 
 what, is my dinner readie? " At this question Rosader, turning liis 
 head ascance, and bending his browes as if anger tliere had ploughed 
 tlie furrowes of her wrath, with his eyes full of fire, hee made this 
 replie. " Doest thou aske mee, Saladyne, for thy Gates? aske some 
 of thy churles who are fit for suche an oftice : 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 snafiie 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, 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 resolution so valiant, thought his heeles his best safetie, and 
 tooke him to a loaft adjoyning to the garden, whether Rosader pur- 
 sued 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 eache other and became friends, and 
 Saladyne promising Rosader the restitution of all his lands, " and 
 what favour els," quoth he, " any waies my abilitie or the nature of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 a brother may performe." Upon these sugred reconciliations they 
 went into the house arme in arme togitlier, to the great content of 
 all the old servants of Sir John of Bourdeaux. 
 
 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 husie 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 conflicts 
 he alwaies bare away the victorie, not onely overthrowing them 
 which bee 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 claws 
 bee should never more returne to quarrel with Saladyne for his pos- 
 sessions. The Norman desirous of pelfe, as, quis nisi mentis inops 
 oblatum respuit aiirum, taking great gifts for little Gods, tooke the 
 crownes of Saladyne to performe the Stratagem. Having thus the 
 Champion tied to his vilanous determination by oath, bee prosecuted 
 the intent of his purpose thus : — He went to yoong Rosader (who in 
 all his thoughts reacht at honour, and gazed no lower then vertue 
 commanded him) and began to tel him of this Tournament and 
 Wrastling, how the King should bee there, and all the chiefe Peeres 
 of France, with all the beautiful damosels of the Countrey. " Now, 
 brother," quoth bee, " for the honor of Sir John of Bourdeaux, our 
 renowned father, to famous that house that never hath bin found 
 without men approoved in chivalrie, shewe thy resolution to be per- 
 emptorie. 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 bee is at 
 Paris poring on a fewe papers, having more insight into Sophistrie 
 and principles of Philosophie, 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 
 my fathers Launce, his Sword, and his Horse, and bye thee to the 
 
18 INTB OD UCTION. 
 
 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 Ro- 
 sader tooke him in his armes, taking his proffer so kindly, that hee 
 promised in what hee might to requite his curtesie. The next mor- 
 row was the day of the Tournament, and Rosader was so desirous to 
 shew his heroycal thoughts, that he past the night with litle sleep ; 
 but assoone as Phoebus had vailed the Curteine of the night, he gat 
 him up, and taking his leave of his brother, mounted himselfe 
 towardes the place appoynted, thinking every mile ten leagues til 
 he came there. 
 
 But leaving him so desirous of the journey: 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 Turn- 
 ament, wherunto hee in most solemne manor 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 Dammoselles that were famous for their features in all 
 France. 
 
 Thus in that place did love and war triumph in a simpathy ; for 
 such as were martial, might use their Launce to be renowned for the 
 excellency of their Chevalrie, and suche as were amorous, might glut 
 themselves with gazing on the beauties of most heavenly creatures. 
 As every mans eye had his several survey, and fancie was partial in 
 their lookes, yet all in general applauded the admirable riches that 
 Nature bestowed on the face of Rosalynde; for uppon her cheeks 
 there seemed a battaile betweene the Graces, who should bestow 
 most favour to make her excellent. The blush that gloried Luna, 
 when she kist the Shepheard on the hilles of Latmos, was not tainted 
 with such a pleasant dye, as the Vermilion fiourisht on the silver hue 
 of Rosalyndes countenance: her eyes were lyke those Lampes that 
 made the wealthie covert of the Heavens more gorgious, sparkling 
 favour and disdaine; courteous and yet coye, as if in them Venus 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 had placed all her amorets, and Diana all her chastitie. The tram- 
 elles of her liayre, foulded iu a net of Golde, so farre surpast the 
 burnisht glister of the mettal, as the Sunne doth the meanest Starre 
 in brightness: the tresses that foldes in the browes of Apollo were 
 not halfe so rich to the sight, for in her hayres it seemed love had 
 laid herselfe in ambush, to intrappe the proudest eye that durst gaze 
 uppon their excellence : what shoulde I neede to decipher her par- 
 ticular beauties, when by the censure of all, shee was the Paragon of 
 all earthly perfection. This Rosalynd sat I say with Alinda as a be- 
 holder of these sportes, and made the Cavaliers cracke their Lances 
 with more courage: many deedes of Knighthood that day were 
 performed, and many prizes were given according to their several 
 desertes: at last when the Tournament ceased, the wrastling be- 
 ganne, and the Norman presented himselfe as a chalenger against all 
 comroers, but bee looked lyke Hercules when he advaunst himselfe 
 agaynst Achelous, so that the furie of his countenance amazed all 
 that durst attempte to incounter with him in any deed of activi- 
 tie : 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 presented 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 yoonger 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. At this unlookt for massacre, the people murmured, 
 and were all in a deepe passion of pittie; but the Franklin, father 
 unto these, never chaunged his countenance, but as a man of a cour- 
 agious resolution, tooke up the bodies of his sonnes without shewe of 
 outward discontent. 
 
 All the while stood Rosader and sawe this Tragedie: who noting 
 the undoubted vertue of the Francklins minde, alighted of from his 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Horse, and presently sat downe on the grasse, and commanded his 
 boy to pul off his hootes, making him ready to try the strength of 
 this Champion ; being furnished as he would, he clapt the Francklin 
 on the shoulder and said thus. "Bold yeoman, whose sonnes have 
 ended the terme of their yeares with honour, for that I see thou 
 scornest fortune with patience, and thwartest the injury of fate with 
 content, in brooking the death of thy sonnes, stand awhile and either 
 see me make a third in their Tragedie, or else revenge their fal with 
 an honourable triumph." The Francklin seeing so goodly a gentle- 
 man to give him such curteous comfort, gave him hartie thankes, 
 with promise to pray for his happy successe. 
 
 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, biit at last Love willing to make him as 
 amourous as hee was valiant, presented him with the sight of Rosa- 
 lynd, 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 Au- 
 rora, 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 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 sweetnesse 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 enterprise, 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. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 On the contrary part, Rosader while lie breathed was not idle, but 
 stil cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to incouraga him with a fa- 
 vour, lent him such an amorous looke, as might have made the most 
 coward desperate : which glance of Rosalind so fiered the passion- 
 ate 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 misfor- 
 tune, rowsed himselfe, and threw the Norman against the ground, 
 falling uppon his chest with so willing a weight, that the Norman 
 yelded nature her due, and Rosader the victorie. 
 
 The death of this Champion, as it highly contented the Franck- 
 lin, as a man satisfied with revenge, so it drue the King and all the 
 Peeres into a great admiration, that so yoong in yeares and so beauti- 
 ful a personage should contain such martiall excellence : but when 
 they knew him to bee the yoongest son of Sir John of Bourdeaux, 
 the King rose from his seat and imbraced him, and the Peeres in- 
 treated him with all favourable curtese. ... As the King and 
 Lordes graced him with embracyng, so the Ladyes favoured him 
 with theyr lookes, especially Rosalynd, whome the beautie and val- 
 our of Rosader had already touched : but she accounted love a toye, 
 and fancie a momentary passion, that as it was taken in with a gaze, 
 might be shaken off with a winke : and therefore feared not to dally 
 in the flame ; and to make Rosader know she affected him, tooke 
 from her necke a Jewel, and sent it by a Page to the yong gentleman. 
 The prize that Venus gave to Paris, was not halfe so pleasing to the 
 Trojan, as this jemme was to Rosader: for if fortune had sworne 
 to make himself sole Monarke of the world, he would rather have 
 refused such dignitie, than have lost the Jewel sent to him by Rosa- 
 lynd. ... To returne hir with the like he was unfurnished, and 
 yet that he might more than in his lookes discover his affection, hee 
 stept into a tent, and taking pen and paper writ this fancie. . . . 
 This sonnet he sent to Rosalynd, which when she read, shee blusht. 
 . . . Leaving her to her intertained fancies, againe to Rosader, who 
 triumphing in the glorie of this conquest, accompanyed with a troupe 
 of yoong gentlemen, that were desirous to be his familiars, went 
 
22 INTB OB UCTION, 
 
 home to his brother Saladyne, who was walking before the gates, 
 to heare what successe his brother Rosacler should have, assuring 
 himself of his death, and devising how with dissimuled sorrowe, to 
 celebrate his funerals : as he was in his thought he cast up his eye, 
 and sawe where Rosader returned with the garland on his head, as 
 having won the prize, accompanied with a crue of boon companions : 
 greeved at this, he stepped in and shut the gate. Rosader . . . ran 
 his foot against the doore, and brake it open : drawing his sword, 
 and entring boldly into the Hall, where he found none (for all were 
 fled) but one Adam Spencer an English man, who had beene an old 
 and trustie servant to Sir John of Bourdeaux : he for the love hee 
 bare to his deceased Maister, favored the part of Rosader, and gave 
 him and his such entertainment as he could. Rosader gave him 
 thanks, and looking about, seeing the Hall empty, saide, " Gentle- 
 men, you are welcome ; frolike and be merry." . . . Assoone as 
 they were gone, Rosader . . . drew his sword, and swore to be re- 
 venged on the discourteous Saladyne : yet by the meanes of Adam 
 Spencer, who sought to continue friendshippe and amity betwixte 
 the brethren, and through the flattering submission of Saladyne, 
 they were once againe reconciled: . . . where leaving them in this 
 happy league, let us returne to Rosalynde. 
 
 Rosalynd returning home from the tryumph, after she waxed 
 solitary, Love presented her with the Idea of Rosaders perfection, 
 and taking her at discovert, stroke her so deepe, as she felte her 
 selfe grow passing passionate ; she began to cal to minde the comli- 
 nesse of his person, the honor of his parents, and the vertues that 
 excelling both, made him so gratious in the eies of every one. Suck- 
 ing in thus the bony of love, by imprinting in her thoughts his rare 
 qualities, shee began to surfet with the contemplation of his vertu- 
 ous conditions, but when she cald to remembrance her present es- 
 tate, and the hardnesse of her fortunes, desire began to shrink, and 
 fancie to vale bonnet. . . . Smiling to her selfe to thinke of her 
 new intertained passions, taking up her Lute that lay by her, she 
 warbled out this dittie. . . . 
 
 Scarce had Rosaljmd ended her Madrigale, before Torismond came 
 in with his daughter Alinda, and many of the Peers of France, who 
 were enamoured of her beauty; which Torismond perceiving, fear- 
 ing least her perfection might be the beginning of his prejudice, . . . 
 
INTR OD UCTION. 23 
 
 he thought to banish her from the court: "for," quoth he to him- 
 selfe, " 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, end the marriage, and then in his wives right attempt 
 the kingdome. To prevent therefore had-I-wist in all these actions, 
 shee tarryes not about the Court, but shall, as an exile, eyther wander 
 to her father, or else seeke other fortunes." In this humour, with a 
 Sterne countenance 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 aspir- 
 ing 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 her- 
 self, with grief in her hart and teares in her eyes, falling down on 
 her knees, began to intreat her father thus. 
 
 " If, mighty Torismond, I offend in pleading for my friend, let the 
 law of amitie crave pardon for my boldnesse ; for where there is depth 
 of affection, there friendship alloweth a priviledge. Rosalynde and I 
 have beene fostered up from our infancies, and noursed under the 
 harbour of our conversing togeather with such private familiarities, 
 that custome had wrought an unyon of our nature, and the sympathie 
 of our affections such a secret love, that we have two bodies and one 
 soule. . . . Use Justice, my lord ; it is the glory of a King, and let 
 her live in your wonted favour ; for if you banish her, myself e as co- 
 partner of her harde fortunes, will participate in exile some part of 
 her extremities." 
 
 Torismond, at this speech of Alinda, covered his face with such a 
 frown, as tyranny seemed to sit triumphant in his forhead. . . . 
 
 "Proudegirle," quoth he, . . . " hath not my yeares more experi- 
 ence than thy youth ? , . . The olde Lion avoides the toyles, where 
 the yoong one leapes into the nette. . . . Thou, fond girle, measureth 
 all by present affection, and as thy heart loves, thy thoughts censure ; 
 but if thou knewest that in liking Rosalynd thou hatchest up a bird 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to pecke out thine owne eyes, thou woulclst iutreat as much for hir 
 absence as now thou delightest in her presence. But why doe I 
 alleadge policie to thee? sit you downe, huswife, and fall to your 
 needle. . . . And you, mayd, this night be packing, eyther into 
 Arden to your father, or whither best it shall content your humour, 
 but in the Court you shall not abide." 
 
 This rigorous replie of Torismond nothing amazed Alinda, for stil 
 she prosecuted her plea in defence of Rosalynd, wishing her Father, 
 if his censure might not be reverst, that he would appoynt her part- 
 ner of her exile; which if he refused, eyther she would by some 
 secret meanes steale out and followe her, or else ende her dayes with 
 some desperate kind of death. When Torismond heard his daughter 
 so resolute, his heart was so hardened against her, that he sent down 
 a definitive and peremptory sentence, that they should both be ban- 
 ished, which presently was done. . . . Rosalynd waxed very sad, 
 and sate downe and wept. Alinda she smiled, and sitting by her 
 friend began thus to comfort her. 
 
 " Be patient, Bosalynde, for, first, by thine exile thou goest to thy 
 father . . . and, more, . . . thou hast with thee Alinda, . . . who 
 hath left her father to follow thee, and chooseth rather to brooke al 
 extremities then to forsake thy presence." 
 
 At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after shee had wept a 
 fewe kinde teares in the bosome of her Alinda, shee gave her heartie 
 thankes, and then they sat them downe to consult how they should 
 travel. Alinda 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 : thou 
 shalt bee my 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 Alinda 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 herself e in more homelie attire. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 25 
 
 Thus 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. 
 
 Passing thus on along, about midday they came to a fountain, 
 compast with a groave of Cipresse trees, so cunningly and curiously 
 planted, as if some Goddesse had intreated Nature in that place to 
 make her an Arbour. . . . Ganimede, casting up his eye espied 
 where on a tree was ingraven certaine verses. . . . 
 
 " No doubt " (quoth Aliena) " this poesie is the passion of some per- 
 plexed shepheard, that being enamoured of some faire and beautifull 
 Shepheardesse, suffered some sharpe repulse, and therfore complained 
 of the crueltie of his Mistress." " You may see " (quoth Ganimede) 
 "what mad cattel you women be, whose harts sometimes are made of 
 Adamant that wil touch with no impression, and sometimes of wax 
 that is fit for every forme: they delight to be courted, and then they 
 glory to seeme coy." ... " And I pray you " (quoth Aliena) " what 
 mettal are you made of that you are so satyrical against women ? is 
 it not a foule bird that defiles his own nest? . . . Leave off to taunt 
 thus bitterly, or els He pull off your pages apparrell and whip you 
 (as Venus doth her wantons) with nettles." 
 
 "So you will" (quoth Ganimede) "perswade me to flattery, and 
 that needs not: but^come (seeing we have found here by this Fount 
 the tract of Shepheardes by their Madrigalles and Roundelaies) let 
 us forwarde; for either wee shall finde some foldes, sheepcoates, or 
 els some cottages wlierin for a day or two to rest." "Content" 
 (quoth Aliena) and with that they rose up, and marched forward 
 till towards the even: and then comming into a faire valley (com- 
 passed with mountaines, whereon grew many pleasaunt shrubbes) 
 they might descrie where two flockes of sheepe did feed. Then, 
 looking about, they might perceive where an old shepheard sate 
 (and with him a yoong swaine) under a covert most pleasantly scitu- 
 ated. The ground where they sate was diapred with Floras riches, 
 as if she ment to wrap Tellus in the glorie of her vestments; round 
 about in the forme of an Amphitheater were most curiously planted 
 Pine trees, interseamed with Lymons and Cytrons, which with the 
 
26 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 thickness of their boughes so shadowed the place, that Phoebus 
 could not prie into the secret of that Arbour. Fast by (to make the 
 place more gorgious) was there a Fount so Christalline and cleere, 
 that it seemed Diana with her Driades and Hemadriades had that 
 spring, as the secret of all their bathings. In this glorious Arbour 
 satte these two shepheardes (seeing their sheepe feede) playing on 
 their Pipes many pleasant tunes, and from musicke and melodie 
 falling into much amorous chat; drawing more nigh we might de- 
 scry the countenance of the one to be full of sorrow, his face to bee 
 the very pourtraiture of discontent, and his eyes full of woes, that 
 living he seemed to dye.i . . . 
 
 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 witnesse 
 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, wou.ld faine have some place of rest. May you 
 appoint us any place of quiet harbour (be it never so meane) I shall 
 bee thankfull 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 
 answere : 
 
 " 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 to please his wench, as to feed his sheep: ful of fancies, 
 and therefore, say I, full of follyes. Exhort him I may, but per- 
 swade 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 
 
 1 This is Montanus, Shakespeare's Silvius, the poet of the beech-bark, 
 who in a " pleasant eglog " of thirty-fonr quatrains confesses to old Cory- 
 don, Shakespeare's Corin, his love for Phoebe. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 shrowd your selves in a sheplieards cottage, my house for this night 
 shall be your harbour." Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and pres- 
 ently sate her downe and Ganimede by hir. Coridon looking 
 earnestly upon her, and with a curious survey viewing all her per- 
 fections applauded (in his thought) her excellence and, pitying her 
 distresse, desirous to heare the cause of her misfortunes, began to 
 question with her thus. 
 
 "If I should not (faire Damosell) occasionate offence, or renew 
 your gi'iefs 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 cur- 
 tesie carry priviledged pardons in their forheads. Know, therefore, 
 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 tra- 
 vaile 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 shepheardesse, 
 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 Landloixl 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 Mistres) 
 did you but live a while in their content, you would say the court 
 were rather a place of sorrow then of solace. Here, mistresse, shal 
 not fortune thwart you, but in mean misfortunes, as the losse of .a 
 few sheepe, which, as it breedes no beggery, so it can bee no ex- 
 treame 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 
 
28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 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 liir 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 remembrance 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 wel- 
 come 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 helpe of Coridon 
 swapt a bargaine with his landslord, and so became mistres of the 
 farme and the flocke, her selfe putting on the attyre of a shepherd- 
 esse, 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. Leaving her thus 
 famous amongst the shepheards of Arden, againe to Saladyne. 
 
 When Saladyne had a long while concealed a secrete resolution of 
 revenge, ... it chaunced on a morning very early he cald up certain 
 of his servants, and went with them to the chamber of Rosader, 
 which being open, bee entred with his crue, and surprized his brother 
 when he was a sleepe, and bound him in fetters, and in the midst 
 of his hall chained him to a post. . . . Who thus abused, . . . con- 
 tinued two or three dales without meat: insomuch that seeing his 
 
INTR OD UCTION. 29 
 
 brother vrould give him no food, he fel in despaire of his life. . . . 
 Which Adam Spencer seeing, ... in the night rose secretly, and 
 brought him such Adctuals as he could provide. . . . About the time 
 appointed, came all the guestes bidden by Saladyne. . . . Hee . . . 
 shewed them where his brother was bound, and was inchainde as a 
 man lunaticke. Rosader made reply, . . . desiring they would in 
 pitie seeke some meanes for his reliefe. But in vaine. . . . They 
 carelesse, sat downe with Saladyne to dinner, beeing very frolicke 
 and pleasant, washing their heades well with wine. At last, when 
 the fume of the grape had entered peale meale into their braines, they 
 began in satyricall speeches to raile against Rosader: which Adam 
 Spencer no longer brooking, gave the signe, and Rosader shaking off 
 his chaines got a pollaxe in his hande, and flew amongst them with 
 such violence and fury, that he hurt many, slew some, and drave his 
 brother and all the rest quite out of the house. . . . Saladyne . . . 
 went to the Sheriffe of the shire . . . who . . . tooke with him five 
 and twentie tall men and . . . went forward to set Saladyne in his 
 former estate. . . . No sooner came Saladyne and he to the gates, 
 but Rosader unlookt for leapt out and assailed them, wounded many 
 of them, and caused the rest to give backe, so that Adam and he 
 broke through the prease in despite of them all, and tooke their way 
 towards the forrest of Arden. . . . This repulse so set the Sheriffs 
 hart on fire to revenge, that he straight raised all the country, and 
 made Hue and Crie after them. 
 
 But Rosader and Adam, knowing full well the secret waies that 
 led through the vineyards, stole away privily through the province 
 of Bourdeaux, and escaped safe to the forrest of Arden. Being come 
 thether, they were glad they had so good a harbor: but fortune, (who 
 is like the Camelion) variable with every object, and constant in 
 nothing but inconstancie, thought to make them myrrours of her 
 mutabilitie, and therefore still crost them thus contrarily. 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 perplexed : which sight made 
 him shedde teares. . . . 
 
30 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he looked earnestly 
 on Rosader, and seeing him chaunge colour, hee rose up and went to 
 him, and holding his temples, said, " What cheere, maister? though 
 all f aile, let not the heart faint : the courage of a man ia shewed 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 manor 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 satisfied ; but to 
 die with hunger, O, Adam, it is the extreamest of all extreames! " 
 "Maister" (quoth he) "you see we are both in one predicament, 
 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 comfoi'ted." With that Adam 
 Spencer was ready to pull out his knife, when Rosader, full of cour- 
 age (though verie faint) rose up, and wisht Adam Spencer to sit 
 there til his returne; " for my mind gives me," quoth he, " 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 
 beast with his Rapier, that either he might carry his friend Adam 
 food, or else pledge his life in pawn for his loyaltie. It chaunced 
 that day, that Gerismond, the lawfull king of France banished by 
 Torismond, who with a lustie crue of Outlawes lived in that Forrest, 
 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 
 
INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 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 ; for rather wil I dye val- 
 iantly, then perish with so 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 
 fi-11, but be Lorde of the feast. " Gramercy, sir" (quoth Rosader) 
 "but I have a feeble friend that lyes hereby famished almost for 
 food, aged and therefore 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 wil gratefully accept of your proffer." 
 Away hies Rosader to Adam Spencer, and tels him the newes, who 
 was glad of so happie fortune, but so feeble he was that he could not 
 go; wherupon 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 Geris- 
 monds place assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but set 
 downe Adam Spencer. . . . Rosader (desirous any way to satisfie 
 the curtesie of his favourable host, first beginning his exordium with 
 a volley of sighes, and a few luke warme teares) . . . told him from 
 point to point all his fortunes. . . . 
 
 When Gerismond heard this, he fell on the neck of Rosader, and 
 . . . made him one of his forresters. Rosader seeing it was the 
 King, cravde pardon for his boldnesse. . . . Gerismond not satisfied 
 yet with newes, beganne to enquire if he had been lately in the Court 
 of Torismond, and whether he had scene his daughter Rosalynde, or 
 no? At this, Rosader fetcht a deep sigh, and shedding many teares, 
 could not answere: yet at last, gathering his spirits togither, he 
 revealed unto the King, how, Rosalynde was banished. . . . This 
 newes drave the King into a great melancholy . . . and . . . the 
 company was all dasht at these tydings . . . where we leave them, 
 and returne againe to Torismond. 
 
 The flight of Rosader came to the eares of Torismond, who hearing 
 
32 INTR OB UCTION. 
 
 that Saladyne was sole heire of the landes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, 
 desirous to possesse suche faire revenewes, 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 matter should be, began to 
 examine his owne conscience, wherein hee had offended his high- 
 nesse ; but imboldened with his innocence, he boldly went with 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. 
 . . . Many passionate thoughts came in his head, till at last he 
 began to fall into consideration of his former follies, and to meditate 
 with himselfe. . . . 
 
 "Unhappie Saladyne . . . are not the heavens doomers of mens 
 deedes? . . . Oh Saladyne . . . Rosaders wrongs . . . cryes for re- 
 venge." . . . 
 
 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 Sheriffe of the shire, he was fled from 
 Bourdeaux, but he knew not whither. "Nay, villaine " (quoth he) 
 " I 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 resolute Chevalier. Therefore, in justice to punish thee, I spare 
 thy life for thy fathers 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. With whom now I beginne. 
 
 Rosader, beeing tluis preferred to the place of a Forrester by 
 Gerismond, rooted out the remembrance of his brothers ankindnes 
 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. . . . One day among the 
 rest, finding a fit opportunity and place convenient, desirous to dis- 
 cover his woes to the woodes, he engraved with. his knife on the bark 
 of a Mir tre, this pretye estimate of his Mistres perfection. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 Of all chast birdes the Phoenix doth excell, 
 Of all strong beastes the Lyon beares the bell, 
 Of all sweet flowers the Rose doth sweetest smel, 
 Of all faire maydes my Rosalynd is fairest." . . . 
 
 In these and such like passions Rosader did every day eternize 
 the name of his Rosalynd ; and this day especially when Aliena and 
 Ganimede . . . arrived in that place . . . they saw . . . his folded 
 arms, his passionate sighes. . . . Whereupon (gessing him to be in 
 love, and according to the nature of their sexe being pittiful in that 
 behalfe) they sodaily brake off his melancholy by theyr approach. 
 . . . Reading the sonnet over, and hearing him name Rosalynde, 
 Aliena lookt on Ganimede and laught, and Ganimede looking backe 
 on the Forrester, and seeing it was Rosader, blusht ; yet thinking to 
 shrowd all under her pages apparell, she boldly returned to Rosader, 
 and began thus. 
 
 "I pray thee tell me, Forrester, what is this Rosalynd for whom 
 thou pinest away in such passions?" . . . At this Rosader fecht a 
 deepe sigh, and sayde, "It is she, O gentle Swayne, it is she, that 
 Saint it is to whom I serve, that Goddesse at whose shrine I doe 
 bende all my devotions: the most fayrest of all faires, the Phenix 
 of all that sexe, and the puritie of all earthly perfection. . . , She 
 is a Diamond, bright, but not hard, ... a Rose without prickles. 
 . . . Ah shepheard, I have reacht at a starre." 
 
 " Why Forrester," quoth Ganimede, " comfort thy selfe : be blyth 
 and frolike, man. . . . Faint heart never woone faire Ladye." . . . 
 
 Rosader . . . giving both Ganimede and Aliena a gentle good 
 night, . . . resorted to his lodge, leaving them to their prittie 
 prattle. . . . With that they put their sheepe into the coates, and 
 went home to . . . Coridons Cottage, Aliena as merry as might bee, 
 that she was thus in the company of her Rosalynde : but she, poore 
 soule, that had Love her loadstarre, and her thoughts set on fire with 
 the flame of fancie, could take no rest. . . . 
 
 The Sunne was no sooner stept from the bed of Aurora, but Aliena 
 'was wakened by Ganimede. . . . Aliena . . . replied thus. . . . 
 "Phoebus hath not dried up the pearled dew . . . but . . . where 
 love prickes forward, there is no worse death than delay." "Come 
 on " (quoth Ganimede) " this sermon of yours is but a subtiltie to lie 
 
34 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 stil a bed. . . . And for Love, . . . looke you to your self e. ... Be 
 not . . . too coy, for Cupid hath a piercmg dart." . . . "And that it 
 is" (quoth Aliena) "that hath raised you so earlie this morning." 
 . . . Assoone as she had made her ready, and taken her breakfast, 
 away goe these two with their bagge and bottles to the field, in more 
 pleasant content of mind, then ever they were in the court of Toris- 
 mond. They came no sooner nigh the foldes, but they might see 
 where their discontented Forrester was walking in his melancholy. 
 . . . Rosader seeing the faire shepheardesse and her prettie Swayne, 
 in whose company he felt the greatest ease of his care, bee returned 
 them a salute. . . . They sate downe upon a greene banke, shad- 
 owed with figge trees, and Rosader, fetching a deep sigh, read them 
 [three sonnets]. . . . 
 
 "Thus," quoth Rosader, "here is an ende of my Poems, but for 
 all this no release of my passions." . . . 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 shepheards 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 whatsoever 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 coun- 
 trey state did allow them, sawst with such content, 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 he, "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 if Rosalynd 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 Ganiinede shall call thee husband, and thou shalt cal 
 Ganimede wife, and so weele have a marriage." " Content" (quoth 
 
INTRODUCTION. 35 
 
 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 Rosalynde. . . . 
 So they passed away the day in many pleasant devices. Till at 
 last Aliena perceyved time would tarry no man, and that the Sun 
 waxed very low, readie to set: which made her shorten their amor- 
 ous prattle, and end the banquet with a fresh carrowse, . . . and thus 
 the Forrester and they parted. ... As . . . they were in chat, 
 they spyed olde Coridon where he came plodding to meet them: who 
 told them supper was ready, which news made them speed them 
 home. Where we will leave them to the next morrow, and returns 
 to Saladyne. 
 
 All this while did poore Saladyne (banished from Bourdeaux and 
 the court of France by Torismond) wander up and downe in the For- 
 rest of Arden, thinking to get to Lyons, and so travail through Ger- 
 many into Italie: 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 Forrest did affoord, and con- 
 tenting himselfe with such drinke as Nature had provided and thirst 
 made delicate, after his repast he fell in 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 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 and perceived by his phisnomie that it was his brother Sala- 
 
36 INTBODUCTION. 
 
 dyne ; which drave Rosader into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed 
 at the sight of so unexpected a chance, marvelling what should drive 
 his Brother to traverse those secrete Desarts, without any companie, 
 in such distressed 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. In which doubt he thus briefly debated with himself. 
 " Now, Rosader, . . . seest thou not how the Starres are in a favour- 
 able aspect, ... in that Saladyne shall die, and thou bee free of his 
 bloud: he receive meed for his amisse, and thou erect his Tombe 
 with innocent handes. Now, Rosader, shalt thou retourne unto Bour- 
 deaux, and enjoy thy possessions by birth, and his revenews by in- 
 heritaunce ; now mayst thou triumph in Jjove, and hang fortunes 
 Altars with garlands." . . . And with that casting his Boare speare 
 on his necke, away he began to trudge. 
 
 But hee had not stept backe two or three paces, but a new motion 
 stroke him to the very hart, that resting his' Boare speare against his 
 brest, he felle into this passionate humour. 
 
 "Ah, Rosader, wert thou the Sonne of Sir John of Bourdeaux? . . . 
 Wilt thou dishonour thy parentage, in forgetting the nature of a 
 Gentleman?" . . . 
 
 "With that his brother began to stirre, and the Lyon to rowse him- 
 selfe, whereupon Rosader sodainly charged him with the Boare 
 speare, and wounded the Lion 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 Gentleman 
 wounded. . . . 
 
 At last he burst into these tearmes. "Sir, ... I perceive thou 
 hast redressed my fortunes by thy courage, and saved my life with 
 thine own losse: which tyes me to be thine in all humble ser- 
 vice." . . . 
 
 Rosader seeing hee was unknowne to his Brother, woondered to 
 heare such courteous wordes come from his crabbed nature, but glad 
 of such reformed nurture, he made this answere. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 ..." I counted it the part of a resolute man to iiurcliase a stran- 
 gers reliefe. . . . Lette niee crave that favour, to heare the tragicke 
 cause of thy estate." Saladyne sitting downe, and fetching a deepe 
 sigh, began thus." . . . 
 
 " Know . . . (sir) that I am . . . the sonne and heyre of Sir John 
 of Bourdeaux, . . . my name Saladyne ; who succeeding my Father 
 in possessions, but not in qualities, having two Brethren committed 
 by my Father at his death to my charge, . . . sette my middle 
 brother to the Universitie . . . and for the yoongest (which was my 
 Fathers joye) yoong Rosader " — And with that, naming of Rosader, 
 Saladyne sate him downe and wept. 
 
 "Kay" . . . (quoth the Forrester) . . . "forward with thy dis- 
 course." 
 
 "Ah, sir " (quoth Saladyne) ..." I kept Rosader as a slave and 
 . . . banisht him from Bourdeaux. . . . The Gods not able to suffer 
 such impietie unrevenged, so wrought, that the King . . . hath 
 exiled me out of France for ever. . . . Passionat thus with many 
 griefs, in penance of my former follies, I go thus pilgrime like to 
 seeke out my brother, that I may reconcile myselfe to him in all 
 submission, and afterward wend to the holy Land, to ende my yeares 
 in as many vertues, as I have spent my youth in wicked vanities." 
 
 Rosader hearing the resolution of his brother Saladyne, began to 
 compassionate his sorrowes, and not able to smother the sparkes of 
 Nature with fained secrecie, he burst into these loving speeches. 
 
 "Then know, Saladyne" (quoth he) "that thou hast met with 
 Rosader, who grieves as much to see thy distresse, as thy selfe to 
 feele the burthen of thy misery." 
 
 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 recom- 
 fort him, which he did in such sort, that bee 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 submisse, the other 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 so highly commended, that his brother 
 
38 INTR OD UCTION. 
 
 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. The King looking upon Saladyne, found him 
 a man of a most beautifull personage, and sawe in his face sufficient 
 sparkes of ensuing honors, gave him great entertainment, and glad of 
 their friendly reconcilement, promised such favour as the povertie 
 of his estate might afford : . . . and with that ... he went into his 
 Cell, and left Saladyne . . . whom Rosader straight conducted to the 
 sight of Adam Spencer. Who . . . when he heard the whole matter 
 . . . sayd thus: " I marry, thus it should be, this was the concord 
 that old Sir John of Bourdeaux wisht betwixt you." . . . "Well 
 sayd, Adam Spencer," quoth Rosader, "but hast any victuals in 
 store for us? " " A piece of a red Deer " (quoth he) " and a bottle of 
 wine." " Tis Forresters fare, brother," quoth Rosa.der: and so 
 they sat down and fel to their cates. 
 
 Assoone as they had taken their repast, and had wel dined, Rosa- 
 der 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, 
 ... for Love measures every minute, and thinkes houres to bee 
 dayes, and dayes to bee moneths, till they feede theyr eyes with the 
 sight of theyr desired object. Thus perplexed lived poore Gani- 
 mede : while on a day sitting with Aliena in a great dumpe, she cast 
 up her eye, and saw where Rosader came pacing towardes them with 
 his Forrest bill on his necke. . . . Assoone as Rosader was come 
 within the reach of her tongues ende, Aliena began thus. ... "I 
 see well bote love is soone cold, and that the fancy of men is like to 
 a loose feather that wandreth in the ayre with the blast of every 
 wynd." . . . Heere Rosader discourst unto them what had hap- 
 pened. . . . But . . . certaine Rascals . . . came rushing in, and 
 layd violent hands upon Aliena and her Page, which made them 
 cry out to Rosader . . . who . . . dealt such blowes amongst them 
 with his weapon, as he did witnesse well upon their carkasses, that 
 he was no coward. But as Ne Hercules quidem contra duos, so Rosa- 
 
INTR OB UCTION. 39 
 
 der could not resist a multitude, . . . had not Fortune . . . brought 
 Saladyne that way . . . who . . . heaved up a Forrest bill he had on 
 his neck, and the first he stroke had never after more need of the 
 Phisition. . . . Some of the crue were slaine, and the rest fled. . . . 
 
 Aliena after shee had breathed awhile and was come to her selfe 
 from this feare, lookt about her, and saw where Ganimede was busie 
 dressyng up the woundes of the Forrester : but shee cast her eye upon 
 this curteous Champion that had made so hotte a rescue, and . . . 
 Saladyne . . . began ... to survey all her liniaments with a curious 
 insight. . . . Ganimede . . . sayd, " Truly, Rosader, this Gentle- 
 man favours you much in the feature of your face." " No marvell," 
 (quoth he) "gentle Swayne, for tis my eldest brother Saladyne." 
 " Your brother? " quoth Aliena (and with that she blush t) "he is the 
 more welcome, and ... if it please him to do me that honor, I will 
 cal him servant, and he shall cal me mistresse." "Content, sweet 
 mistress," quoth Saladyne, " and when I forget to call you so, I will 
 be unmindful of mine owne selfe." " Away with these quirkes and 
 quiddities of love," quoth Rosader, " and give me some driuke, for I 
 am passyng thirstie, and then I will home, for my woundes bleed sore, 
 and I will have them drest." Ganimede had teares in her eyes, and 
 passions in her heart to see her Rosader so payned, and therefore 
 stept hastily to the bottle, and filling out some wine in a Mazer, shee 
 spiced it with such comfortable drugges as she had about her, and 
 gave it him, which did comfort Rosader: that rysing (with the 
 helpe of his brother) hee tooke his leave of them, and went to his 
 Lodge. Ganimede assoone as they were out of sight, led his flocks 
 down to a vale, and there under the shadow of a Beech tree sat 
 downe, and began to mourne the misfortunes of her sweet heart. 
 
 And Aliena . . . sitting under a Lymon tree, began to sigh out 
 the passions of her new Love. . . . They went home togither after 
 they had folded their flocks, supping with old Coridon, who had pro- 
 vided their cates. . . . Falling on sleepe, their sences at rest, love 
 left them to their quiet slumbers : which were not long. For as soon 
 as Phoebus rose . . . Aliena . . . awakened her page, and said the 
 morning was farre spent, the deaw small, and time called them away 
 to their foldes. "Ah, ah! " qiioth Ganimede, "is the wind in that 
 doore ? then in fayth I perceive that there is no Diamond so hard 
 but will yeeld to the file, no Cedar so strong but the wind will shake, 
 
40 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 nor any mind so chast but Love will change. Well Aliena, must 
 Saladyne be the man, and will it be a match ? " . . . 
 
 With this Ganimede start up, 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 Kosader, 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 newes 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 shep- 
 heardesse whom Montanus loves ; so now if you please you and Gani- 
 mede 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 coy as if she held love in disdaine." 
 
 The newes were so welcome to the two Lovers, that up they 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 frolickst swaine in the whole forrest) she in a petti- 
 cote 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 gorgeous 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 re- 
 gardest not my maladie ? " . . , At these wordes she fild her face 
 full of frowns, and made him this short and sharpe reply. — " Impor- 
 tunate shepheard, ... if your market can be made nowhere els, 
 home againe. . . . Phoebe is no lettice for your lips. . . . Wert 
 thou, Montanus, as faire as Paris, as hardy as Hector, as constant as 
 Troylus, as loving as Leander, Phoebe could not love, because she can- 
 not love at all : and therefore if thou pursue me with Phoebus I must 
 flie with Daphne." 
 
 Ganimede, overhearing all these passions of Montanus, could not 
 brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but starting from behind the bush 
 
INTR OD UCTION. 41 
 
 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, espe- 
 cially when shee saw so faire a Swaine as Ganimede ; blushing there- 
 fore 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 condemned 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 Mon- 
 tanus; for if his desires are many, so his deserts are great." Phcebe 
 all this while gazed on the perfection of Ganimede, as deeply en- 
 amored on his perfection as Montanus inveigled with hers. 
 
 But leaving Phoebe to the follies of her new fancie, ... to Sala- 
 dyne, . . . requested by his brother to go to Aliena and Ganimede, 
 to signify unto them that his woundes were not dangerous. A more 
 happy message could not happen to Saladyne, that taking his Forrest 
 bill on his neck, hee trudgeth in all haste towardes the plaines, where 
 Alienaes fiockes did feede: comning just to the place when they 
 returned from Montanus and Phoebe. ... "I pray, youth" (quoth 
 Ganimede with teares in his eyes) " when the Surgion searcht him, 
 held hee his woundes dangerous?" "Dangerous" (quoth Sala- 
 dyne) "but not mortall: and the sooner to be cured, in that his 
 patient is not impatient of any paines : wherupon my brother hopes 
 within these ten dayes to walke abroad and visite you himself e." 
 "In the meane time" (quoth Ganimede) "say his Rosalynde com- 
 mends her to him, and bids him be of good cheare." "I knowe 
 not " (quoth Saladyne) " who that Rosalynde is, but whatsoever she 
 is, her name is never out of his mouth : but amidst the deepest of 
 his passions hee useth Rosalynde as a charme to appease all sor- 
 rowes with patience. Insomuch that I conjecture my brother is in 
 love." . . . 
 
 "By my fayth " (quoth Aliena) " sir, you are deep read in love, 
 or growes your insight into affection by experience ?" . . . Sala- 
 dyne (that now saw opportunitie pleasant) thought to strike while 
 the yron was hotte, and therefore taking Aliena by the hand sate 
 downe by her; and Ganimede to give them leave to their Loves, 
 found her selfe busie about the foldes." . . . Where we leave them 
 and return to Phoebe. 
 
42 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Phoebe fiered with the uncouth flame of love, returned to her 
 fathers house. . . . Perplexed thus with sundry agonies, her foode 
 began to faile, . . . that, to be short, Phoebe fell extreme sicke. . . . 
 The newes of her sicknesse was bruted abroad through all the For- 
 rest: which no sooner came to Montanus eare, but hee like a mad 
 man came to visit Phoebe. Where sitting by her bed side, he began 
 his Exordium with so many teares and sighes, that she perceiving 
 the extremitie of his sorrows, began now as a Lover to pittie them, 
 although Ganimede helde her from redressing them. . . . She re- 
 solved to write unto Ganimede. . . . Although poore Montanus saw 
 day at a little hole, and did perceive what passion pinched her : yet 
 (that he might seeme dutifuU to his Mistresse in all service) he 
 dissembled the matter, and became a willing Messenger of his own 
 Martyrdome. And so (taking the Letter) went the next morne very 
 earlie to the plaines where Aliena fedde hir flocks, and there he 
 found Ganimede, sitting under a Pomegranade tree sorrowing for the 
 hard fortunes of her Rosader. Montanus saluted him, and accord- 
 ing to his charge delivered Ganimede the letters, which (he said) 
 came from Phoebe. . . . AVhen she had read and over-read them, 
 Ganimede beganne to smile, and looking on Montanus, fell into a 
 great laughter. ... "I tell thee, Montanus, in courting Phoebe, 
 thou barkest with the Wolves of Syria against the Moone. . . . For 
 proofe, Montanus, read these letters, wherein thou shalt see thy 
 great follyes and little hope." 
 
 With that Montanus tooke them and perused them, but with 
 such sorrow in his lookes, as they bewrayed a sourse of confused 
 passions in his heart, at every line his colour changed, and every 
 sentence was ended with a period of sighes. 
 
 " Alas, Ganimede, . . . shee is snared in the beauty of thy ex- 
 cellence. ... It shall sufitice me to see her contented. ... If she 
 marry though it bee my martyrdome: yet if she be pleased I wil 
 brooke it with patience, and triumph in mine owne stars to see her 
 desires satisfied." . . . Straight (as womens heads are full of wiles) 
 Ganimede had a fetch to force Phoebe to fancie the shepheard. . . . 
 Away they goe towards the house of Phoebe. . . . Phoebe . . . tak- 
 ing Ganimede by the hande began thus. " Faire shepheard ... let 
 me say in a word what may be contained in a volume, Phoebe loves 
 Ganimede." At this she held downe her head and wept, and 
 
INTRODUCTION. 43 
 
 Ganimede rose as one that would suffer no fish to hang on his fingers. 
 ... ■' Although I pitie thy martyrdome, yet I can grant no mar- 
 riage. . . . With the love of Montanus quench the remembraunce 
 of Ganimede." 
 
 These wordes were corasives to the perplexed Phoebe, that sob- 
 bing out sighes, and straining out teares, she blubbered out these 
 words. ... 
 
 "Justly have the Gods ballanst my fortunes, who beeing cruel to 
 Montanus, found Ganimede as unkinde to my selfe." . . . 
 
 " 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," quoth Phoebe, " and so 
 deeply I repent me of my frowardnesse towards the shepheard, that 
 could I cease to love Ganimede, I would resolve to like Montanus." 
 "What, if I can with reason perswade Phoebe to mislike of Gani- 
 mede, wil she then 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 himself e to Phoebe." 
 " I graunt it, faire shepheardesse," quoth he ; " and to feed thee with 
 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 ; which 
 sight was a salve to her griefe, and such a cordiall unto her heart, 
 that she tript alongst the Lawnes full of joy. 
 
 At last Coridon who was with them spied Ganimede, and with 
 that the Clown rose, and running to meet him cried, "Oh sirha, a 
 match, a match, our Mistres shalbe married on Sunday." Thus the 
 poor peasant frolict it before Ganimede, who comming to the crue 
 saluted them all, and especially Rosader, saying that he was glad to 
 see him so wel recovered of his wounds. 
 
 " 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 
 
44 INTR OB UCTION. 
 
 should it be, if Rosader that day might he married to Rosalynd." 
 "Ah, good Ganiniede," quoth he, "by naming Rosalynd, renue not 
 my sorrowes ; for the thought of her perfections is the thrall of my 
 miseries." " Tush, bee of good cheare, man," quoth Ganiniede: "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 har- 
 bour her; and upon that take the faith of a yoong shepheard." . . . 
 
 In these humors the weeke went away, that at last Sunday came. 
 No sooner did Phoebus Hench-man appeare in the skie, to give warn- 
 ing that his maisters horses should be trapt in his glorious coach, but 
 Coridon in his holiday sute marvellous seemely, in a russet jacket 
 welted with the same, and faced with red worsted, having a paire 
 of blue chamblet sleeves, bound at the wrests with foure yeolow laces, 
 closed afore very richly with a dosen of pewter buttons ; his hose was 
 of gray karsie, with a large sloppe bard overthwart the pocket holes 
 with three faire gards, stitcht of either side with red threed, . . , 
 and for to bewtifie his hose, he had trust himselfe round with a dosen 
 of new thredden points of medley colour: his bonnet was greene 
 wheron stood a copper brooch with the picture of Saint Denis ; and 
 to want nothing that might make him amorous in his old dayes, hee 
 had a faire shyrt band of fine lockeram, whipt over with Coventry 
 blew of no small cost. Thus attired, Coridon bestird himselfe as 
 chiefe stickler in these actions, and had strowed al the house with 
 flowers, that it seemed rather some of Floraes choyce bowers, than 
 any country cottage. 
 
 Thither repaired Phoebe with all the maides of the Forrest, to set 
 out the bride in the most seemliest sort that might bee ; but howso- 
 ever she helpt to prancke out Aliena, yet her eye was still on Gani- 
 mede, who was so neat in a sute of gray, that he seemed Endymion 
 when he won Luna with his lookes. . . . Ganimede like a prettie 
 Page waited on his mistresse Aliena, and overlookt that all was in 
 a readines against the bridegroom should come. Who attired in a 
 Forresters sute came accompanied with Gerismond and his brother 
 Rosader early in the morning, where arrived, they were solemnly 
 entertained by Aliena and the rest of the country swains. . . . Gani- 
 mede comming in and seeing her father began to blush. Nature 
 woorking affects by her secret effectes : scarce could she abstain from 
 
INTB on UCTION. 45 
 
 teares to see her father in so low fortunes : he that was wont to sit in 
 his royall Pallaioe, attended on by twelve noble Peeres, now to be 
 contented with a simple Cottage, and a troupe of revelling woodmen 
 for his traine. ... As thus the King with his Foresters frolickt it 
 among the shepheards, Coridon came in with a faire mazer full of 
 Sidar, and presented it to Gerismond with such a clownish salute, 
 that he began to smile, and tooke it of the old shepheard very kindly, 
 drinking to Aliena and the rest of her faire maydes, amongst whome 
 Phoebe was the formost. ... As they were thus drinking and ready 
 to go to Church, came in Montanus, apparalled all in tawny, to sig- 
 nifie 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. 
 Assoone as the Shepheards sawe him, they did him all the honor they 
 could, as being the flower of all the swaines in Arden ; for a bonnier 
 boy was there not seen since the wanton wag of Troy that kept sheep 
 in Ida. He seeing the King, and gessyng it to be Gerismond, did 
 him all the reverence his country curtesie could afford. . . . The 
 king was desirous to see Phoebe, who being broght before Geris- 
 mond by Rosader, shadowed the beauty of her face with such a ver- 
 milion teinture, that the Kings eyes began to dazle at the puritie of 
 her excellence. . . . 
 
 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, be- 
 gan by his favour to cal to mind the face of his Rosalynd, 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 Geris- 
 mond, " 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 
 
46 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Gerismond, to drive away his dumpes, questioned with Ganimede, 
 what the reason was he regarded not Phosbes 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 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 Forrest : 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 disguised. 
 
 Gerismond seeing his daughter, rose from his seat and fel upon 
 her necke. ... At this sight, if Rosader was both amazed and joy- 
 full, I refer my selfe to the judgement of such as have experience in 
 love. . . . At last Gerismond ... in most fatherly tearmes enter- 
 tained his daughter Rosalynd, after many questions demanding of 
 her what had past betweene her and Rosader. "So much, sir" 
 (quoth she) " as there wants nothing but your Grace to make up the 
 mariage." " Why then " (quoth Gerismond) " Rosader, take her, 
 shee is thine, and let this day solemnize both thy brothers and thy 
 nuptials." Rosader beyond measure content, humbly thanked the 
 
INTR OD UCTION. 4tJ 
 
 king, and imbraced his Rosalynde, who turning to Phoebe, demanded 
 if she had shewen sufficient reason to suppresse the force of her 
 loves. " Yea," quoth Phoebe, "and so great a perswasive, that if it 
 please you, Madame, and Aliena to give us leave, Montanus and I 
 will make this day the third couple in marriage." She had no sooner 
 spake this word, but Montanus threw away his garland of willow, 
 his bottle, where was painted dispaire, and cast his sonnets in the 
 fire, shewing himselfe as frolicke as Paris when he hanseled his love 
 with Helena. . . . Aliena seeing Saladyne stande in a dumpe, to 
 wake him from his dreame began thus. ... " Cheare up thy hart, 
 man, for this day thou shalt bee married to the daughter of a King ; 
 for know, Saladyne, I am not Aliena, but Alinda." . . . Whiles 
 every one was amazed with these Comicall events, Coridon came 
 skipping in, and told them that the priest was at Church, and tar- 
 ried 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 mariages were solemnly solemnized. As soone as the 
 Priest had finished, home they went with Alinda, where Coridon 
 had made all things in readines. Dinner was provided, and the 
 tables being spread, and the Brides set downe by Gerismond, Rosa- 
 der, Saladyne, and Montanus that day were servitors : homely cheare 
 they had, such as their country could affoord: but to mend their fare 
 they had mickle good chat, and many discourses of their loves and 
 fortunes. ... As they were in the midst of their jollitie, word was 
 brought in to Saladyne and Rosader that a brother of theirs, one Fer- 
 nandine was arived, and desired to speake with them. . . . Fernan- 
 dine, as one that knew as many manors, as he could points of 
 sophistry, and was as well brought up as well lettered, saluted 
 them all. But when he espied Gerismond, kneeling on his knee, he 
 did him what reverence belonged to his estate: and with that burst 
 forth into these speaches. "Although (right mighty Prince) this 
 day of my brothers marriage be a day of mirth, yet time craves 
 another course: and therefore from dantie cates rise to sharpe 
 weapons. And you the sonnes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, leave off 
 your amors, and fal to arms, change your loves into lances, and now 
 this day shew your selves valiant, as hitherto you have been pas- 
 sionate. For know, Gerismond, that harde by at the edge of this 
 forrest the twelve peeres of France are up in armes to recover thy 
 
48 INTB OD UCTION. 
 
 right ; and Torismond troupt with a crue of desperate runnagates is 
 ready to bid them battaile." ... At this alarum , . . Gerismond 
 leapt from the boord, and Saladyne and Rosader betooke themselves 
 to their weapons. . . . Thus they leave the Brides full of sorrow, 
 and especially Alinda, who desired Gerismond to be good to her 
 Father. ... To be short, the Peers were conquerors, Torismonds 
 army put to flight, and himselfe slain in battaile. . . . Gerismond 
 made a royal feaste for the Peers and Lords of the Land, which 
 continued thirtie dayes, in which time summoning a parliament, by 
 the consent of his nobles, he created Rosader heire apparant to the 
 kingdome, hee restored Saladyne to all his fathers Land, and gave 
 him the Dukedome of Nameurs, he made Fernandine principall 
 secretarie to him selfe; and that Fortune might every way seeme 
 frolicke, he made Montanus Lord over all the Forrest of Arden, Adam 
 Spencer Captaine of the Kings Gard, and Coridon maister of Alin- 
 das flocks. 
 
 III. STRUCTURE. 
 
 Rosalynde has known hardly a better fortune than the 
 other works of its too versatile author, blamed even by his 
 touch-and-go contemporaries 
 
 " for his oare in every paper boate." 
 
 Its butterfly reign of fashion was long since over. To the 
 nineteenth century it is but tedious nonsense, heavy as the 
 " dumps " of the love-lorn princesses, empty as their " bagge 
 and bottles " after dinner, faded as Montanus's " willow gar- 
 land," while As You Like It laughs at oblivion. Yet the 
 queer, sentimental, artificial old romance keeps still for the 
 indulgent reader a perfume of lavender, a lingering, remi- 
 niscent charm. It is a pattern woven in stiff tapestry, with 
 a thread of Elizabethan gold running through it, — a pat- 
 tern of conventional Arcadian figures grouped with flocks and 
 pipes and sheep-hooks about a fountain " Christalline and 
 
jy TR OD UCTION. 49 
 
 cleere," or under shade of " Cipresse trees," or " Lymons " 
 or " Cytrons," pine or beech or " figge," " Olive " or " Pome- 
 granade " or " Mir," as the irresponsible silks may determine. 
 Nature holds no dominion here. The speech of these tapes- 
 tried personages is as unreal as their setting, — a language 
 stamped in quaint devices at the bygone Euphuistic mint, 
 counterfeit coin to-day, good not even for the exchange of 
 " a few luke warme teares." The dolorous sonnets of Mon- 
 tanus, elegant as Rosader's, move us less than his tawny suit, 
 "to signifie that he was forsaken," and his bottle "whereon 
 was painted dispaire." The languishing Phoebe's classic par- 
 allels, more fluent than Aliena's, are as ridiculously out of date 
 as out of character. There is too much of everything, from 
 the death-bed counsels of Sir John to the wedding finery of 
 old Coridon. But what a good preluding touch in the dying 
 Nestor's warning against Love ! — " Cupids wings are plumed 
 with the feathers of vanitie." And what an irresistible 
 Coridon he is, " in his holiday sute marvellous seemely," with 
 his " faire mazer full of Sidar " and his clownish salute to 
 the king ! The elder Shakespeare, more and more in love 
 with life, less and less controlled by literary convention, the 
 Shakespeare who dared tint with true Warwickshire russet his 
 inimitable sheep-shearing feast in Bohemia, would, we believe, 
 have followed his leader here, and crowned the beauty of 
 these Arden scenes by a sunshiny sylvan bridal. He would 
 have known how to vivify Lodge's country portraiture and 
 yet tone it into the lights of idyllic romance. The pen that 
 harmonized Perdita with Autolycus could have set Rosalind's 
 nuptials among the " troupe of revelling woodmen." Better 
 old Corin in green bonnet and gray " karsie " hose, his " blue 
 chamblet sleeves bound at the wrests with foure yeolow laces, 
 
50 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 closed afore very richly with a closen of pewter buttons," — a 
 bustling, gleeful old Corin, strewing " al the house with 
 flowers," making ready the " homely cheare " and " skipping 
 in " at the climax of the denoument to hurry the wedding- 
 party off to church, than this unsubstantial, stagey Hymen, 
 with his solemn fib about bringing Rosalind " from Heaven." 
 
 It is certainly true that for all the preposterous make- 
 believe of the young sailor's pastoral, all its tiresome excess of 
 " love's foolish lazy languishment," it sparkles here and there 
 with the salt spray. A dash of exuberance, a note of realism, 
 something bright and breezy, may be detected every now and 
 then, although these qualities are far from obtrusive. Rosa- 
 der's ingenuous resort to athletics to cure his wounded heart, 
 attempting " by continuall exercise " to outwalk " the lively 
 image of Rosalynde ; " the unashamed relish of all these open- 
 air lovers for " cates " and " junkets " and " red Deer ; " the 
 instantaneous energy with which even the picturesque " mar- 
 tyr," Montanus, at a word from Phcebe bounds from his 
 melancholy pose, and flings his woful sonnets into the fire, — ■ 
 here, as that " gorgeous Nymph " would say, are sips " of the 
 same sauce " that is delicious in Chaucer or in Kipling. 
 
 Shakespeare, at all events, liked the story well enough to 
 dramatize it. He was the feeder of the stage, whose dis- 
 reputable service Lodge had forsworn. Chafe under the 
 "brand" though Shakespeare might and did, it was his 
 life-task to use his " pen for pennie-knaves delight." Care- 
 lessly enough, apparently, he picked up this strip of sea- 
 timber, painted over with its pretty row of prim, pastoral 
 groups, and whittled it into a play, shaped, for all the world, 
 like Cupid's bow. 
 
 There is the golden arch formed by the loves of Rosalind 
 
INTRODUCTION. 51 
 
 and Orlando, and beneath, a lesser rainbow, the reflected 
 loves of Celia and Oliver. Within these, like a greenwood 
 bough, curves the shepherd idyl of Silvius and Phebe ; and, 
 finally, in parody of this triple bow of Cupid, springs the 
 earth-born, earth-returning courtship of Touchstone and his 
 Audrey. This last, with the attendant personages of William 
 and Sir Oliver Martext, is Shakespeare's own creation. His, 
 too, is the melancholy Jaques, lending a shade of worldly 
 cynicism to the else over-romantic atmosphere of Arden, 
 which environs these four concentric arches of love-action, — 
 an atmosphere further tempered by the philosophic wisdom 
 of the Duke, and mellowed to richer beauty yet by songful 
 pages and sympathetic lords. The minor characters that 
 Shakespeare takes over from the novel are strictly subordi- 
 nated to this quadruple scheme. The individuality of Corin 
 is merged in his dramatic service. Adam, whose aged figure 
 is chiefly valuable as setting off the bright youth of his com- 
 panion, is denied his flow of Euphuistic eloquence, and re- 
 duced to the role of a faithful old retainer. The usurper, 
 Frederick, is of little account save to set the ball rolling 
 toward Arden, where the drama plays itself out. With that 
 world outside the forest Shakespeare has as little to do as 
 may be. Lodge's eight-page narrative of Sir John's dying 
 counsels is condensed into Orlando's opening speech to Adam. 
 The tournament' is rejected, with the scenes of violence in 
 the banquet-hall and at the gates, and the story of Oliver's 
 imprisonment. Even within the leafy bounds of Arden, 
 while Shakespeare gives full scope to Rosalind and Orlando, 
 Oliver's wooing of Celia, equally important in Lodge's ro- 
 mance, is ruthlessly cut out, and the situation between Silvius 
 and Phebe developed with comparative brevity. 
 
52 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In short, Shakespeare's use of his material is marked by a 
 sense of dramatic economy, movement, proportion, and climax. 
 The novel may be lavish, but drama admits of no waste edges. 
 Eclogue, description, rhetoric, must go. The novel meanders. 
 The play, except for Touchstone's inopportune fooling about 
 the verbal preliminaries of the duello, flows briskly on. Solilo- 
 quies give place to rapid dialogue. So elaborate an episode 
 as the adventure with the lion is left to the hurried recital of 
 a messenger. So stirring a scene as the rescue from the rob- 
 bers is omitted altogether. All the lovers have their rights of 
 love-making amply respected in the novel. Rosalind rules the 
 play. Everything exists for her or through her. Arden is 
 created for her background. No longer a page, but a brother, 
 she takes the lead in every enterprise. All other wooings are 
 subordinate to hers, and, indeed, find place only as they em- 
 phasize hers by reflection, complication, or mockery. Lodge 
 follows the wedding by a battle. Shakespeare leaves the 
 shining presence of Rosalind in possession of the forest 
 stage. 
 
 The comedy plot is symmetrical. Attention is first focussed 
 on Orlando, then on Rosalind, then on their sudden love. 
 Between love and marriage the drama spins its old, accustomed 
 web. Hero and heroine have met, loved, and parted. The 
 problem is to bring them together at the altar. As a begin- 
 ning, they must needs be separated as hopelessly as possible. 
 Rosalind is banished from the kingdom before the close of 
 the first act, Celia and Touchstone escaping in her company. 
 The second act brings the fugitives to Arden, whither Orlando 
 is shortly after driven by the malice 
 
 " Of a diverted blood and bloody brother." 
 
INTRODUCTION. 53 
 
 The presence of both lovers in the forest, although each re- 
 mains unaware of the other's proximity, looks already toward 
 a solution of the dramatic puzzle. The third act starts forth 
 Oliver on the Arden road, and, after assuring Rosalind through 
 the palm-tree poesy of Orlando's continued devotion, sets him, 
 chestnut hair and " little beard " and all, before her dancing 
 eyes ; but " that unfortunate he," with vision blurred by the 
 glamour of Arden no less than cheated by umber and curtle- 
 axe, beholds merely a comely lad. The playwright's task is 
 half accomplished, and only half. An embarrassment still ex- 
 ists. " Alas the day ! what shall I do with my doublet and 
 hose ? " Meanwhile, Touchstone has met his homely destiny, 
 though the drama does not disdain to thwart the coarse even 
 of such love as his by the discomfiture of the hedge-priest ; and 
 Phebe has tangled the comedy threads still more by losing her 
 heart to the " swashing and martial outside " of the masquer- 
 ading princess. The fourth act enables Rosalind, taking full 
 advantage of her disguise, at once to tease and test her lover, 
 thickens the Phebe complication, and brings Oliver into Arden, 
 whose holy influences, culminating for him in Celia's soft re- 
 buke, achieve in that unnatural breast a speedy change of 
 heart. In the concluding act, Rosalind gathers all these criss- 
 cross threads, silken and homespun, into her sprightly hands, 
 and knits the fourfold marriage knot. Hymen has his own 
 at last, and the function of comedy is over. 
 
 Another point of view only reveals afresh the symmetry of 
 the play. Hate — in the one case the jealous rage of Freder- 
 ick, in the other the murderous purpose of Oliver — gives rise 
 to the dramatic complication, which is resolved by love. For 
 love's sake Celia faces hardship and peril, and Adam sacrifices 
 his "thrifty hire." Love is the true Touchstone that tries 
 
54 IJSfTE 01) UCTION. 
 
 each heart and awards to each such bliss as it may merit. It 
 discovers in the chastened Duke the philanthropist, in the sen- 
 timental Jaques the egoist. For all who truly love 
 
 "Sweet are the uses of adversity." 
 
 Orlando's faith is proven. Oliver's spirit is transformed. 
 To the Duke's loyal followers are restored their lands, with new 
 wisdom to enrich possession. No longer may Amiens sing 
 unto the green holly his disproved strain, 
 
 "" Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly." 
 
 IV. TREATMENT. 
 
 The vital difference, after all, between As You Like It and 
 Rosalynde is not in structure, but in tone. The most amusing 
 passages of the romance to-day are those which were meant to 
 be most seriously impressive. Coridon's Latin, the wry faces 
 and rueful verses of Montanus, Adam's railings on Fortune, 
 Rosader's "volley of sighes," all the "amorous prattle," the 
 " dumps " and the " passionings " rub the modern reader 
 the wrong way. The excessive ornament of the style blurs the 
 sense. We cannot see Rosalind's face for Luna, Nature, the 
 Graces, Venus, Diana, and Apollo, who are all paraded forth 
 to illustrate its several beauties. We miss the sight and scent 
 of blossoms in reading how " the ground where they sate w^as 
 diapred with Floras riches, as if she ment to wrap Tellus in 
 the glorie of her vestments." The situations, moreover, are 
 grotesquely impossible. In moments of utter exhaustion or 
 imminent peril, Lodge compels his puppets to deliver long and 
 flowery harangues, as Adam, when fainting from hunger and 
 
INTRODUCTION. 55 
 
 fatigue, and Orlando, while the lion crouches for the spring on 
 Oliver. Under no stress of anguish can any one of these talk- 
 ing dolls refrain from classic allusion, alliteration, comparison, 
 antithesis, parallelism, apostrophe, aphorism. Sir John " with 
 death in his lookes," Rosalind smitten with the love-dart, 
 Alinda on her knees before a furious father, Phoebe " extreme 
 sicke," all twirl the same Euphuistic toys of speech, " as chil- 
 di'en doo their Rattles." 
 
 We have ceased to be amazed at Shakespeare's power, almost 
 divine, of breathing the breath of life into mere clay images, 
 but one is conscious of a fresh wonder, in leaving Rosalynde 
 for As You Like It, how the author of the second, writing so 
 closely from the first, escaped its vices of style. Clearly Shake- 
 speare was on his guard, keenly alive to the dangers of the 
 literary habit in general, and the insincerities of the pastoral 
 fashion in particular. " I do not know what ' poetical ' is," 
 says Audrey; "is it honest in deed and word? is it a true 
 thing?" 
 
 There is safety in numbers. Love in Arden walks between 
 wit and wisdom. It is, moreover, protected from sugary ex- 
 cess by the saving grace of Rosalind's disguise. At their first 
 meeting, his passion hangs weights upon Orlando's tongue. 
 In the wedding hour, the Avords of the lovers, each to each, 
 are brief and simple, — 
 
 "To you I give myself, for I am yours." 
 
 "If there he truth in sight, you are my Rosalind." 
 
 The intervening scenes of courtship have a surface of ban- 
 ter, a roguishness and risk all-delightful; and when, now and 
 again, the truth of longing or apprehension flashes forth, these 
 revelations, because " they seldom come," do " wished-for 
 
b6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 come," and please us as " rare accidents." Orlando, like the 
 gentleman he is, has an instinct of reticence in love. He 
 does not bemoan his plight to Le Beau, Adam, or the ban- 
 ished lords. His only confidants are the forest trees ; but 
 these keep his secret so ill as to expose him to the mocking 
 curiosity of Jaques, which he evades with pardonable rude- 
 ness, and to the irresistible wiles of a certain " saucy lackey," 
 who " plays the knave with him." First staying his retr.eat- 
 ing steps by calling after him to ask the hour, next making 
 her question the occasion for lively and engaging chat, in due 
 time arresting his interest in this " pretty youth," then adroitly 
 turning the conversation upon woman, and thence upon the 
 " fancy-monger " of the forest, and finally, by alternate scep- 
 ticism and sympathy, coaxing out his full confession and his 
 promise to try the virtue of her boasted cure, Rosalind (" Cupid 
 have mercy ! ") proves herself well schooled by that magician 
 " most profound in his art and yet not damnable." 
 
 It is the charrh of Shakespeare's lovers that they do not 
 insist on our- taking them too seriously. " Men have died 
 from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for 
 love." Touchstone invites us cordially to laugh at him and 
 Audrey ; Rosalind takes the lead in merry ridicule of the 
 ^stantaneous flame of Oliver and Celia ; and Rosalind, again, 
 will not have any pathos about Phebe's misplaced affections, 
 but " sauces her with bitter words." Shakespeare even sees to 
 it that the " tame snake," Silvius, does not weary us. His 
 rhapsodies are overheard by chance, and promptly mocked in 
 the reminiscences of Touchstone, who is equally ready to gibe 
 at Orlando's poetry. But no one may scoff at Rosalind's love 
 save herself. This includes Celia, for Celia and Rosalind are 
 one. Shall they " be sunder'd " ? Laughing, crying, blushing. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 57 
 
 pouting, Rosalind declares her love in denying it, but only to 
 Celia and herself ; and Celia, for her part, after sisterly warn- 
 ings and checks have failed, veils her sympathy in badinage. 
 Wit takes the place of sentiment. It is all natural, wholesome, 
 blithe. The lyric element is simply and sweetly introduced. 
 A courteous lord, a forester, or a pair of pages, carol in the 
 greenwood, subject to the chaff of Jaques or Touchstone. If 
 there is sadness in the songs, this, too, would hide itself under 
 cover of jollity. 
 
 Thus shielded on every side from mawkishness, love be- 
 comes poetic. The forest of Arden is its earthly paradise. 
 This is the realm of enchantment, — essential, not superficial. 
 Phebe has " a leathern hand," but the conversion of Oliver 
 " sweetly tastes," and, on reaching the very " skirts of this 
 wild wood," Duke Frederick is persuaded to " put on a reli- 
 gious life." We accept even the ease with which, under 
 
 " The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream," 
 
 Orlando's pardoned brother wins the tender heart he in no 
 wise merits. The only laws of this " golden world " are " love 
 at first sight " and " kindness, nobler ever than revenge. '^This 
 witchery of Arden has various manifestations. As soon as its 
 sunbeams flicker through the oak-leaves down upon his cap^ 
 and bells, the wit of Touchstone brightens till we hardly recog- 
 nize in our sylvan satirist the " roynish clown " of the opening 
 act. His quips are blunted, it is true, against the rustic 
 shrewdness of Corin, much as Jaques finds himself " very 
 wisely " answered by the " motley fool." Everything in Arden, 
 passion or poem, folly or philosophy, has its burlesque close at 
 hand. Court mocks country, and country, court. The spirit 
 of humor possesses all the place, and will not suffer us to rest 
 in any partial view of life, however idyllic. 
 
58 IN TR OD UCTIO N. 
 
 The literary style, with the dread of Euphuism before it, is 
 somewhat curiously delivered from temptation. The play is 
 about half prose, and tart, crisp, vivacious prose at that, in 
 Shakespeare's most rapid and sententious manner. Rosalind 
 commonly speaks in prose, both with Celia and Orlando, and 
 when she uses verse with Phebe, it is only to whip her with 
 nettles. Phebe's finest passage in verse is a denial of her 
 actual feelings. Both damsels pour contempt on the would-be 
 poetical shepherd, who follows his inky-browed mistress 
 
 "Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain," 
 
 and incurs the sharp rebuke of common-sense by talking of the 
 murder in her eye, — 
 
 " 'Tis 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, murderers! " 
 
 Beyond such concession to poor Silvius, and a certain re- 
 gard for dignitaries, verse serves in the drama, as a rule, for 
 the continuous narratives, as Oliver's and that of the second 
 brother, and especially for grave reflections on life, as couched 
 in the moralizing speeches of Jaques and the Duke. The 
 poetry of these latter passages is, however, so rich in stately 
 music that it imparts elevation and dignity to one's recollec- 
 tion of the play at large. " All the world's a stage " is Fame's 
 favorite, mouthed on platforms, volumed in libraries, pictured 
 in galleries, stained in glass ; but more characteristic of the 
 prevailing tone of ^s You Like It are the tranquil musings of 
 the Duke. 
 
 "Happy is your grace, 
 
 That can translate the stubborness of fortune 
 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style." 
 
INTRODUCTION. 59 
 
 This quietness and sweetness tincture all the play. Shake- 
 speare has touched Lodge's Rosalind, " a Diamond, bright, but 
 not hard," to tenderer issues. Lodge gave to the rose glow 
 and prickles. Shakespeare deepens the first, multiplies the sec- 
 ond, and adds the soul of fragrance. Even outside the bounds 
 of Arden, our poet hushes the noise of violence. Orlando han- 
 dles his brother less roughly ; the old man's sons at the wres- 
 tling-match are merely injured, not killed outright; instead of 
 strife and tumult at Oliver's gates, we have the bowed figure 
 of the devoted old servant, pleading to share his young 
 master's misfortunes. And once over the enchanted border, 
 the beauty of meekness is a lesson quickly learned, — 
 
 " Let gentleness my strong enforcement be." 
 
 Shakespeare is himself the gentlest of presiding deities. 
 Adam is not suffered to " die for lack of a dinner ; " Sir Oliver 
 Martext is not flouted out of his calling; Rosalind's frown 
 does not kill a fly ; Frederick is not slain in battle, but becomes 
 a convertite most diverting to the melancholy Jaques. The 
 very spirit of gentleness is incarnate in Celia, the violet beside 
 the rose, so fitly housed in 
 
 "A sheepcote fenced about with olive trees." 
 
 No wonder that Lodge's band of robbers find no entrance 
 into this Arden, — serenest of forest-pictures, emerald leafage 
 flecked with sunshine, with here and there a gleam of white 
 fleeces or flutter of bright garments. Its sounds are of the 
 softest, — murmuring brooks, blowing leaves, sobbing deer, 
 sighing lovers, song, and girlish laughter. Its fiercest and 
 vilest forms of life have an Arden quality. <■'■ The suck'd and 
 liungry lioness " will " prey on nothing that doth seem as 
 
60 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dead," the nimble-headed snake is green and gilded, and 
 surely here, if nowhere else in all geography, 
 
 "the toad, ugly and venomous, 
 "Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." 
 
 The Arden life is one of hunting the deer, keeping sheep, 
 fetching up the goats, carving poems on the barks of trees, 
 feasting, jesting, singing, playing at courtship, sighing in a 
 shadow, and lying under the greenwood tree. That this life, 
 nevertheless, impresses us as full of stir and movement, is a 
 part of the paradox of the play, — that paradox most obvious 
 in the melancholy Jaques, who weeps for sympathy beside 
 
 " the poor sequester' d stag . . . 
 Left and abandon' d of his velvet friends," 
 
 and dries his tears for a banquet of venison. But paradox 
 is everywhere, — in this delectable playground, which is none 
 
 the less 
 
 "a desert inaccessible, 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs;" 
 
 in the Shakespearian bewilderment of time, years masquerad- 
 ing as days, and days as years, until we are compelled to say 
 with Orlando, " There's no clock in the forest ; " and chiefly 
 in the central motif, the passion of love itself, most tricksy 
 when most true, never too ideal to cast an absurd shadow. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Ddke, living in exile. Touchstone, a clown. 
 
 Feederick, his usurping brother. Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. 
 
 Amiens, ) Lords attending on the ban- Corin, ) >, v> h 
 
 Jaques, f ished Duke. Silvius, | ^nepneras. 
 
 Le Beau, a courtier attending upon William, a country fellow, in love 
 
 Frederick. with Audrey. 
 
 Charles, wrestler to Frederick. Hymen. 
 
 Oliver, \ „ „„.„,,, Rosalind, daughter to the banished 
 
 Jaques, ^^^^ °^ ^ir Rowland de j^^^^ 
 
 Orlando, ) ^oys. Celia, daughter to Frederick. 
 
 Adam, ) „„„„„„.„ .^ ^i.„_ Phebe, a sliepherdess. 
 
 _,„ > servants to Oliver. . ^ 
 
 Dennis, ) Audrey, a country wench. 
 
 Lords, pages, foresters, and other attendants. 
 
 Scene: Oliver's House, Duke Frederick's Court, and the Forest of Arden. 
 
 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 say'st, charged my brother, on his 
 blessing, to breed me well : and there begins my sad- 
 ness. My bTother Jaques he keeps at school, and re- 
 port speaks goldenly of his profit : for my part, he keeps 
 
 61 
 
62 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays 
 me here at home unkept ; for call you that keeping for 
 a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stal- 
 ling of an ox ? His horses are bred 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 dunghills 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 educa- 
 tion. This is it, Adam, that grieves me ; and the spirit 
 of my father, which I think is within me, begins to 
 mutiny against this servitude : I will no longer endure 
 it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. 
 Adam. Yonder comes my master, 3^our brother. 24 
 Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how 
 he will shake me up. [Adam retires. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 
 Oliver. Now, sir ! what make you here ? 
 
 Orlando. Nothing : I am not taught to make any 
 thing. 
 
 Oliver. What mar you then, sir ? 30 
 
 Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
 which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, 
 with idleness. 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 63 
 
 Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and b« 
 naught a while. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Orlando. 0, sir, very well : here in your orchard. 
 
 Oliver. Know you before whom, sir ? 4i 
 
 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 betwixt us : 
 I have as much of my father in me as you ; albeit, I 
 confess, your coming before me is nearer to his rever- 
 ence. 50 
 
 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 Kowland 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 pull'd out thy tongue 
 for saying so : thou hast rail'd on thyself. 60 
 
 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient : for your father's 
 remembrance, be at accord. 
 
64 SHAKESPEABE. Act I. 
 
 Oliver. Let me go, I say. 
 
 Orlando. I will not, till I please : you shall hear 
 me. My father charged you in his will to give me good 
 education : you have train'd me like a peasant, obscur- 
 ing and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. 
 The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will 
 no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises 
 as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allot- 
 tery my father left me by testament; with that I will 
 go buy my fortunes. 72 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 82 
 
 \_Exeiint Orlando and 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 ? 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 65 
 
 Dennis. So please you, lie is here at the door, and 
 importunes access to you. 90 
 
 Oliver. Call him in. \^Uxit Dennis.] ^Twill 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 lov- 
 ing lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with 
 him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke ; 
 therefore he gives them good leave to wander. 101 
 
 Oliver. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daugh- 
 ter, be banished with her father ? 
 
 Charles. 0, no ; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, 
 so loves her, — being ever from their cradles bred to- 
 gether, — that she would have followed her exile, or 
 have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and 
 no less belov'd of her uncle than his own daughter ; and 
 never two ladies loved as they do. 
 
 Oliver. Where will the old Duke live ? 110 
 
 Charles. They say he is already in the forest of 
 Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there 
 they live like the old Robin Hood of England : they say 
 many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet 
 the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. 
 
66 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 Oliver. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the 
 new Duke ? 
 
 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 dispo- 
 sition to come in disguis'd 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 honor, if he come in : therefore, out of my love to 
 you, I came hither to acquaint you withal ; 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. 130 
 
 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 labored to dissuade him from it; 
 but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the stub- 
 bornest young fellow of France ; full of ambition, 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 disgrace, or if he 
 do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise 
 against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous 
 device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 67 
 
 by some indirect means or other ; for, I assure thee, and 
 almost with tears I speak it, 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. 150 
 
 Charles. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. 
 If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment : if ever 
 he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more : and 
 so, God keep your worship ! 
 
 Oliver. Farewell, good Charles. [Fxit Charles.] 
 — Now will I stir this gamester : I hope I shall see an 
 end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates 
 nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle ; never school'd, 
 and yet learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts en- 
 chantingly beloved ; and indeed so much in the heart of 
 the world, and especially of my own people, who best 
 know him, that I am altogether misprized. But it shall 
 not be so long ; this wrestler shall clear all : nothing 
 remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now 
 I'll go about. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. Lawn before the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Celia. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 
 merry. 
 
 Rosalind. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I 
 am mistress of ; and would you yet I were merrier ? 
 
68 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, 
 you must not learn me how to remember any extraordi- 
 nary pleasure. 7 
 
 Celia. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the 
 full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished 
 father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so 
 thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my 
 love to take thy father for mine : so wouldst thou, if the 
 truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as 
 mine is to thee. 
 
 EosALTND. 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; 
 by mine honor, I will ; and when I break that oath, 
 let me turn monster : therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear 
 Kose, be merry. 23 
 
 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 
 honor come off again. 
 
 Rosalind. What shall be our sport, then ? 30 
 
 Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife 
 Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth 
 be bestowed equally. 
 
Scens II. AS YOU LIKE IT. , 69 
 
 EosALiND. 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. 'Tis true ; for those that she makes fair, she 
 scarce makes honest ; and those that she makes honest, 
 she makes very ill-favoredly. 39 
 
 Rosalind. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's of- 
 fice to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, 
 not in the lineaments of Nature. 
 
 Enter Touchstone. 
 
 Celia. No ? Avhen Nature hath made a fair crea- 
 ture, 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 cut- 
 ter-off of Nature's wit. 49 
 
 Celia. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work 
 neither, but Nature's ; who, perceiving our natural wits 
 too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this 
 natural for our whetstone ; for always the dulness of 
 the fool is the whetstone of the wits. — How now, wit ! 
 whither wander you ? 
 
 Touchstone. Mistress, you must come away to your 
 father. 
 
 Celia. Were you made the messenger ? 
 
 Touchstone. No, by mine honor ; but I was bid to 
 come for you. 60 
 
70 SHAKESPEABE. Act I. 
 
 EosALiND. Where learned you that oath, fool ? 
 
 Touchstone. Of a certain knight that swore by his 
 honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his honor 
 the mustard was naught : now I'll stand to it, the pan- 
 cakes 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 ? 
 
 EosALiND. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 
 
 Touchstone. Stand you both forth now : stroke your 
 chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. 71 
 
 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 for- 
 sworn : no more was this knight, swearing by his honor, 
 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 mean'st ? 
 
 Touchstone. One that old Frederick, your father, 
 loves. 80 
 
 Celia. My father's love is enough to honor him : 
 enough ! speak no more of him ; you'll be whipp'd for 
 taxation one of these days. 
 
 Touchstone. The more pity, that fools may not 
 speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. 
 
 Celia. By my troth, thou say'st true ; for since the 
 little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery 
 that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes 
 Monsieur Le Beau. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 71 
 
 Enter, in the distance, Le Beau. 
 
 KosALiND. With his mouth full of news. 90 
 
 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 market- 
 able. — Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news ? 
 
 Le Beau. Fair Princess, you have lost much good 
 sport. 
 
 Celia. Sjoort ! of what color ? 
 
 Le Beau. What color, madam ! how shall I answer 
 you ? 100 
 
 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 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 
 best is yet to do ; and here, where you are, they are 
 coming to perform it. 112 
 
 Celia. 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. 
 
72 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 
 growth and presence. 
 
 EosALiND. With bills on their necks, Be it known 
 unto all men by these presents. 120 
 
 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 
 all the beholders take his paTt with weeping. 
 
 EosALiND. Alas ! 
 
 Touchstone. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 
 the ladies have lost ? 130 
 
 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 
 wag sport for ladies. 
 
 Celia. Or I, I promise thee. 
 
 BosALiND. But is there any else longs to see this bro- 
 ken music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon 
 rib-breaking ? — Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ? 
 
 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here ; for here is 
 the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are 
 ready to perform it. i4i 
 
 Celia. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now 
 stay and see it. 
 
 Flourish, Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, 
 Charles, a7id Attendants. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 73 
 
 Duke Frederick. Come on : since the youth, will 
 not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 
 
 EosALiND. Is yonder the man ? 
 
 Le Beau. Even he, madam. 
 
 Celia. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks success- 
 fully. 
 
 Duke Erederick. How now, daughter, and cousin ! 
 are you crept hither to see the wrestling ? 151 
 
 EosALiND. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. 
 
 Duke Frederick. You will take little delight in it, 
 I can tell you, there is such odds in the man. In pity 
 of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, 
 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'll not be by. 
 
 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the Princess calls 
 for you. 161 
 
 Orlando. I attend them with all respect and duty. 
 
 EosALiND. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
 the wrestler ? 
 
 Orlando. No, fair Princess ; he is the general chal- 
 lenger : I come but in, as others do, to try with him the 
 strength of my youth. i67 
 
 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 
 
74 SHAKESPEABE. Act I. 
 
 pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, 
 and give over this attempt. 
 
 Rosalind. Do, young sir ; your reputation shall not 
 therefore be misprized : we will make it our suit to the 
 Duke that the wrestling might not go forward. 177 
 
 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 foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was 
 never gracious ; if kill'd, 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 it I have 
 nothing ; only in the world I fill up a place, which may 
 be better supplied when I have made it empty. i87 
 
 EosALiND. The little strength that I have, I would 
 it were with you. 
 
 ■Celia. And mine, to eke out hers. 
 
 BosALiND. Fare you well : pray Heaven I be de- 
 ceived in you ! 
 
 Celia. Your heart's desires be with you ! 
 
 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. i98 
 
 Charles. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not 
 entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- 
 suaded him from a first. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 75 
 
 Orlando. You mean to mock me after ; you should 
 not have mock'd me before : but come your ways. 
 
 KosALiND. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man ! 
 
 Celia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong 
 fellow by the leg. [ Wrestle. 
 
 Rosalind. excellent young man ! 207 
 
 Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
 tell who should down. [Shout. Charles is throwii. 
 
 Duke Frederick. No more, no more. 
 
 Orlando. Yes, I beseech your Grace : I am not yet 
 well breath'd. 
 
 Duke Frederick. How dost thou, Charles ? 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
 Duke Frederick. Bear him away. — What is thy 
 name, young man ? 
 
 Orlando. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of 
 Sir Rowland de Boys. 218 
 
 Duke Frederick. I would thou hadst been son to 
 some man else. 
 The world esteem'd thy father honorable, 
 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 5 thou art a gallant youth : 
 I would thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 \_Exeunt Duke Frederick, ti^am, 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 calling, 
 
76 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 To be adopted heir to Frederick. 229 
 
 EosALiND. My father lov'd Sir Eowland 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, 
 
 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 promise. 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
 EosALiND. Gentleman, 240 
 
 \_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. 
 
 Oklando. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better 
 parts 
 Are all thrown down ; and that which here stands up 
 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
 
 EosALiND. 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 ? 250 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 77 
 
 Rosalind. Have with you. — Fare you well. 
 
 [^Exeunt Eosalind aiid Celia. 
 Oklando. What passion hangs these weights upon 
 my tongue ? 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
 poor Orlando, thou art overthrown ! 
 Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 
 
 Re-ente7' 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. 260 
 
 The Duke is humorous : what he is, indeed. 
 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 
 
 Orlando. I thank you, sir : and, pray you, tell me 
 this. 
 Which of the two was daughter of the Duke, 
 That here was at the wrestling ? 
 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
 manners ; 
 But yet, indeed, the lesser 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 270 
 
 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, 
 
78 SHAKESPEAIIE. Act I. 
 
 Grounded upon no other argument 
 But that the people praise her for her virtues 
 And pity her for her good father's sake ; 
 And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
 Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well : 
 Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 280 
 
 Orlando. I rest much bounden to you : fare you 
 well. \^Uxit Le Beau. 
 
 Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; 
 From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : — 
 But heavenly Rosalind ! \^Ux{t. 
 
 Scene III. A Room in the ^ auace. 
 Enter Celta and Rosalind. 
 
 Celia. Why, cousin ! why, Rosalind ; Cupid have 
 mercy ! not a word ? 
 
 Rosalind. Not one to throw at a dog. 
 
 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 lam'd 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. 
 0, how full of briars is this working-day world ! 
 
 Celia. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 79 
 
 in holiday foolery : if we walk not in the trodden paths, 
 onr very petticoats will catch them. 
 
 KosALiND. 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. 0, they take the part of a better wres- 
 tler than myself ! 
 
 Celia. 0, 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. so 
 
 Celia. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love 
 his son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I should hate 
 him, for my father hated his father dearly ; yet I hate 
 not Orlando. 
 
 Rosalind. ISTo, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
 
 Celia. Why should I not? doth he not deserve 
 well? 
 
 JEnter, in the distance, Duke Frederick, tvith Lords. 
 
 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. 40 
 
80 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 Duke Frederick. Mistress, despatch you with your 
 safest haste 
 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, 50 
 
 Never so much as in a thought unborn 
 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. 
 
 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 
 dukedom ; 
 So was I when your Highness banish'd him : eo 
 
 Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 81 
 
 Or, if we did derive it from our friends, 
 What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
 To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 
 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 : 70 
 
 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, 
 Kose 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; and 
 her smoothness. 
 Her very silence, and her patience 
 Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; so 
 
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous 
 When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : 
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
 AVhich I have pass'd upon her : she is banish'd. 
 
 Celia. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege: 
 I cannot live out of her company. 
 
 Duke Frederick. You are a fool. — You, niece, 
 provide yourself : 
 
82 SHAKESPEARE. Act I. 
 
 If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, 
 And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 \_Exeu7it i)t^A;e Frederick and Lords. 
 
 Celta. my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go ? 90 
 Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. 
 I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. 
 
 EosALiND. 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, 100 
 
 Whither to go, and what to bear with us : 
 And do not seek to take your change 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'll go along with thee. 
 
 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. 110 
 
 Celia. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire. 
 And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; 
 The like do you : so shall we pass along. 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 83 
 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 EosALiND. 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'll have a swashing and a martial outside ; 120 
 
 As many other mannish cowards have 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 
 
 Celia. What shall I call thee when thou art a man ? 
 
 Rosalind. I'll 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 ? 130 
 
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? 
 
 Celia. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ; 
 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. \_Uxeunf. 
 
84 SHAKESPEABE. Act II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. The Forest of Arden. 
 
 Enter Duke Senior, Amiens^ and tivo or three Lords, 
 like foresters. 
 
 Duke Senior. 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, as the icy fang 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, — 
 Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and 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 every thing. 
 I would not change it. 
 
 Amiens. Happy is your Grace, 
 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 85 
 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20 
 
 Duke Senior. Come, shall we go and kill us veni- 
 
 son 
 
 ? 
 
 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 : 
 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 th' extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke Sexior. But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
 
 First Lord. 0, yes, into a thousand similes. 
 
86 SHAKESPEAUE. Act II. 
 
 First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; 
 
 Poor deer, quoth he, thou maWst a testament 
 
 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of viore 
 
 To that which had too much : then, being there alone, 
 
 Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, 50 
 
 ^ T'ls 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, 
 
 Siveep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 
 
 ^Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
 
 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? 
 
 Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
 
 The body of the country, city, court, 
 
 Yea, and of this our life ; swearing that we eo 
 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse. 
 
 To fright the animals and to kill them up 
 
 In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. 
 
 Duke Senior. And did you leave him in this con- 
 templation ? 
 
 Second Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
 menting 
 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'll bring you to him straight. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 87 
 
 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 a-bed, 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. 
 Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman, lo 
 
 Confesses that she secretly o'erheard 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 The parts and graces of the wrestler 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
 And she believes, wherever they are gone. 
 That youth is surely in their company. 
 
 Duke Frederick. Send to his brother; fetch that 
 gallant hither ; 
 If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; 
 I'll make him find him : do this suddenly ; 
 And let not search and inquisition quail 20 
 
 To bring again these foolish runaways. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
88 SUAKESPEABE. Act 11. 
 
 Scene III. Before Oliver's House. 
 Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. 
 
 Orlando. Who's there ? 
 
 Adam. What, my young master ? my gentle 
 master ! 
 my sweet master ! 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 valiant ? 
 Why would you be so fond to overcome 
 The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke ? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
 Know you not, master, to some kind of men lo 
 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies ? 
 No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 0, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it ! 
 
 Orlando. Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Adam. 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 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 89 
 
 And you within it : if he fail of that, 
 
 He will have other means to cut you off. 
 
 I overheard him and 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. ISTo 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 : 
 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, 
 'Not did not with unbashful forehead woo 50 
 
90 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 The means of weakness and debility : 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you ; 
 I'll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orlando. 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 
 
 And 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'll go along together ; 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent. 
 We'll 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 
 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. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 91 
 
 Scene IV. The Forest of Arden. 
 
 Enter Rosalind /or Ganymede, Celia for Alien A, 
 a7id Touchstone. 
 
 Rosalind. 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 com- 
 fort the weaker 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 jou. 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. 
 
 Enter Corin and Silvius. 
 
 Look you, who comes here ; a young man and an old 
 
 in solemn talk. 20 
 
 CoRiN. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
 
92 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 SiLvius. Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love 
 her ! 
 
 CoEiN. 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 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? so 
 
 CoRiN. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
 
 SiLvius. 0, 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 : 
 Or if thou hast not broke from company 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 40 
 
 Thou hast not lov'd. — Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! [Uxit. 
 
 KosALiND. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching" of thy 
 wound, 
 I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
 
 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 re- 
 member the kissing of her batler and the cow's dugs 
 that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd ; and I remem- 
 
Scene IV. ^-S YOU LIKE IT. 93 
 
 ber 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. 53 
 
 EosALiND. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware 
 of. 
 
 Touchstone. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own 
 wit till I break my shins against it. 
 
 EosALiND. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion 
 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 eo 
 If he for gold will give us any food : 
 I faint almost to death. 
 
 Touchstone. Holla, you clown ! 
 
 EosALiND. Peace, fool : he's not thy kinsman. 
 
 CoRiN. Who calls ? 
 
 Touchstone. Your betters, sir. 
 
 CoRiN. Else are they very wretched. 
 
 EosALiND. Peace, I say. — Good even to you, friend. 
 
 CoRiN. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
 
 EosALiND. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold 
 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 70 
 
 And faints for succor. 
 
 CoRiN. Fair sir, I pity her 
 
94 SHAKESPEABE. Act II. 
 
 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, 
 
 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, 80 
 
 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. 
 
 EosALiND. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
 pasture ? 
 
 CoRiN. That young swain that you saw here but ere- 
 while, 
 -That little cares for buying any thing. 
 
 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, 90 
 
 And willingly could waste my time in it. 
 
 CoRiN. Assuredly the thing is to be sold : 
 Go with me : if you like, upon report, 
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
 I will your very faithful feeder be, 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
Scene V. ^>S YOU LIKE IT. 95 
 
 Scene Y. The Forest. 
 Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Amiens. Under the greenwood tree 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 And turn his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither : 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Jaques. More, more, I prithee, more. 
 
 Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur 
 Jaques. ii 
 
 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 de- 
 sire you to sing. Come, more ; another stanzo : call you 
 'em stanzos ? 
 
 Amiens. AVhat you will. Monsieur Jaques. 20 
 
 Jaques. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe 
 me nothing. Will you sing ? 
 
 Amiens. More at your request than to please myself. 
 
 Jaques. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I'll 
 
96 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 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'll end the song. — Sirs, cover the 
 while ; the Duke will drink under this tree. — He hath 
 been all this day to look you. 32 
 
 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 i' 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. 
 
 Jaques. I'll give you a verse to this note that I 
 made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
 Amiens. And I'll sing it. 
 Jaques. Thus it goes : 
 
 If it do come to pass 
 That any man turn ass. 
 Leaving his wealth and ease 
 A stubborn will to please, 
 
 50 
 
Scene VI. AS YOU LIKE IT. 97 
 
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame : 
 
 Here shall he see 
 
 Gross fools as he, 
 An if he will come to me. 
 
 xxMiENS. What's that ducdame ? 
 
 Jaques. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into 
 a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, I'll rail 
 against all the first-born of Egypt. 60 
 
 Amiens. And I'll go seek the Duke : his banquet is 
 prepar'd. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene VI. The Forest. 
 Enter Orlando and Adam. 
 
 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : 0, I die 
 for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. 
 Farewell, kind master. 3 
 
 Orlando. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart 
 in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself 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 
 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 
 labor. Well said ! thou look'st cheerly ; and I'll be 
 with thee quickly. — Yet thou liest in the bleak air : 
 
98 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 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 Se^iior, Amiens, and Lords 
 like outlaws. 
 
 Duke Senior. I think he be transform'd into a 
 beast ; 
 For I can nowhere find him like a man. 
 
 First 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 labor by his own approach. 
 
 Duke Senior. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a 
 life is this. 
 That your poor friends must woo your company ? lo 
 
 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. 
 
Scene VII. AS YOU LIKE IT. 99 
 
 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 trie 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 0^ clock : 
 
 Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags : 
 
 ' Tis but an hour ago since it was nine : 
 
 And after one hour more Hwill 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. noble fool ! 
 
 A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear. 
 
 Duke Senior. What fool is this ? 
 
 Jaques. 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. 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 40 
 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms. that I were a fool ! 
 I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
 
100 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 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 with 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, 
 Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not, 
 The wise man's folly is anatoniiz'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 th' 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 sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 
 And all th' embossed sores and headed evils. 
 That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
 Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 
 
Scene VII. AS YOU LIKE IT. 101 
 
 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 shoulders ? 
 Who can come in, and say that I mean her, 
 When such a one as she, such is her neighbor ? 
 Or what is he of basest function 
 
 That says his bravery is not on my cost, so 
 
 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 siuord drawn. 
 
 Oklajstdo. 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 
 
 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 ? 
 
102 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 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 answer'd with reason, I 
 must die. lOo 
 
 "Duke Senior. What would you have? Your gen- 
 tleness 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 whatever you are 
 That in this desert inaccessible. 
 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, no 
 
 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 
 And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied. 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
 
Scene VII. AS YOU LIKE IT. 103 
 
 In the wMch hope I blush, and hide my sword. 
 
 Duke Senior. True is it that we have seen better 
 days, 
 And have with holy bell been knolPd to church, 120 
 
 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 
 Limp'd in pure love : till he be first suffic'd, 130 
 
 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 bless'd for your good 
 comfort ! [Uxit. 
 
 Duke Senior. Thou see'st we are not all alone un- 
 happy : 
 This wide and universal theatre 
 Presents more woful pageants than the scene 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaques. All the world's a stage. 
 
 And all the men and women merely players : 
 They have their exits and their entrances ; 140 
 
 And one man in his time plays many parts. 
 
104 SHAKESPEARE. Act II. 
 
 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, 
 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
 
 Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel 
 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 
 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
 
 Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
 
 Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
 
 Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 150 
 
 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. 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 world too wide 
 
 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, leo 
 
 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. 
 
 Re-enter Orlando, with Adam. 
 
 Duke Senior. Welcome. Set down your venerable 
 burden, 
 And let him feed. 
 
Scene VII. AS YOU LIKE IT. 105 
 
 Orlando. I thank you most for him. 
 
 Adam. So had you need : 
 
 T scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 
 
 Duke Senior. Welcome ; fall to : I will not trouble 
 you 170 
 
 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. 
 Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly : 
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : 180 
 Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
 This life is most jolly. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 That dost not bite so nigh 
 
 As benefits forgot: 
 Though thou the waters warp. 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 
 As friend remember' d not. 
 Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! etc. 
 
 Duke Senior. If that you were the good Sir Row- 
 land's son, 190 
 As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, 
 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
 
106 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 Most truly limn'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, i98 
 
 And let me all your fortunes understand. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. A Rootti in the Falace. 
 Enter Duke Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 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 
 Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it : 
 Eind out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; 
 Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living 
 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, lo 
 
 ■ Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth 
 Of what we think against thee. 
 
 Oliver. that your Highness knew my heart in 
 
 this! 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 107 
 
 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 of Arden. 
 
 Enter Orlando with a jpaper, which he hangs on a tree. 
 
 Orlando. 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, 
 Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. 
 Kosalind ! these trees shall be my books 
 And in their barks my thoughts I'll character ; 
 That every eye, which in this forest looks, . 
 Shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere. 
 Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree 
 The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Corin cmcl Touchstone. 
 
 CoRiN. And how like you this shepherd's life, Mas- 
 ter Touchstone ? 
 
 Touchstone. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it 
 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 
 
108 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 well ; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile 
 life. 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 life, look you, it fits my humor well ; 
 but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against 
 my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ? 
 
 CoRiN. No more- but that I know the more one sick- 
 ens, 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. 
 
 Touchstone. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
 "Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 31 
 
 CoRiN. No, truly. 
 
 Touchstone. Then thou art damn'd. 
 
 CoRiN. Nay, I hope — 
 
 Touchstone. Truly, thou art damn'd like an ill- 
 roasted egg all on one side. 
 
 CoRiN. For not being at court ? Your reason. 
 
 Touchstone. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 
 never saw'st good manners ; if thou never saw'st good 
 manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; and 
 wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a 
 parlous state, shepherd. 42 
 
 CoRiN. Not a whit. Touchstone : those that are good 
 manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 109 
 
 the behavior 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. 
 
 Touchstone. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 
 
 CoRiN. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and 
 their fells, you know, are greasy. 5i 
 
 Touchstone. Why, do not your courtier's hands 
 sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome 
 as the sweat of a man ? Shallow, shallow. A better 
 instance, I say; come. 
 
 CoEiN. 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 tarr'd over with the sur- 
 gery of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar ? 
 The courtier's hands are perfum'd with civet. ei 
 
 Touchstone. Most shallow man ! thou worms-meat, 
 in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn of the 
 wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser birth than tar, 
 the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, 
 shepherd. 
 
 CoRiN. You have too courtly a wit for me : I'll rest. 
 
 Touchstone. Wilt thou rest damn'd ? God help 
 thee, shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou 
 art raw. 70 
 
 CoRiN. Sir, I am a true laborer : I earn that I eat, 
 get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happi- 
 ness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm, 
 
110 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 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 damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shep- 
 herds ; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape. 
 
 CoRiN. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my 
 new mistress's brother. 8i 
 
 Enter Eosalind, reading a paper. 
 
 Rosalind. From the east to western Lid, 
 No jewel is like Rosalind. 
 Her worth, being mounted on the wind. 
 Through all the world bears Rosalind. 
 All the pictures fairest lined 
 Are but black to Rosali7id 
 Let no face be kept in mind 
 But the fair of Rosalind. 
 Touchstone. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, 
 dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : it is 
 the right butter-woman's rank to market. 92 
 
 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. 
 
 Winter garments must be lined, 
 
 So must slender Rosalind. 100 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. Ill 
 
 They that reap must sheaf and bind ; 
 Then to cart with Eosalind. 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 
 Such a nut is Eosalind. 
 He that sweetest rose will find, 
 Must find love's prick and Eosalind. 
 This is the very false gallop of verses : why do you 
 infect yourself with them ? 
 
 Eosalind. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on 
 a tree. no 
 
 Touchstone. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
 Eosalind. I'll 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'll be rotten ere you be half 
 ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. 
 
 Touchstone. You have said ; but whether wisely or 
 no, let the forest judge. 
 
 Enter Celia, with a writing. 
 
 Eosalind. Peace ! 
 Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside. 
 Celia. \_Beads.'] 
 
 Why should this a desert he ? ' 120 
 
 For it is unpeopled ? No ; 
 
 Tongues I'll hang on every tree^ 
 
 That shall civil sayings show : 
 
 Some, how brief the life of man 
 
 Ituns his erring pnlgrim^age, 
 
 That the stretching of a span 
 
112 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 Buckles in his sum of age ; 
 Some, of violated vows 
 ^Twixt the souls of friend and friend: 
 But upon the fairest boughs, 130 
 
 Or at every sentence end, 
 Will I Rosalinda write ; 
 Teaching all that read to know 
 The quintessence of every sprite 
 Heaven would in little show. 
 Therefore Heaven Nature charged 
 That one body should be filVd 
 With all graces wide-enlarg ^d : 
 Nature presently distill ^d 
 Helen''s cheek, but not her hearty 140 
 
 Cleopatra'' s majesty, 
 Atalanta's better part, 
 Sad Lucretia's modesty. 
 Thus Rosalind of many parts 
 ■ By heavenly synod was devised, 
 Of ma7iy faces, eyes, and hearts. 
 To have the touches dearest prized. 
 Heaven tuoitld that she these gifts should have. 
 And I to live and die her slave. 
 KosALiND. most gentle Jupiter ! what tedious 
 homily of love have you wearied your parishioners 
 withal, and never cried, Have patience, good people ! 1.52 
 Celi A. How now ! back, friends ! — Shepherd, go off 
 a little. Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touchstone. Come, shepherd, let us make an honor- 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 113 
 
 able retreat ; though not with bag and baggage, yet with 
 scrip and scrippage. 
 
 [Exeicnt CoRiN and Touchstone. 
 
 Celia. Didst thou hear these verses ? 
 
 EosALiND. 0, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; 
 for some of them had in them more feet than the verses 
 would bear. lei 
 
 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 hang'd and carved upon these 
 trees ? i69 
 
 Rosalind. I was seven of the nine days out of the 
 wonder before you came ; for look here what I found on 
 a palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since Pythago- 
 ras' 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 color ? 
 
 Rosalind. I prithee, who ? 
 
 Celia. Lord, Lord ! It is a hard matter for 
 friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with 
 earthquakes and so encounter. i82 
 
 Rosalind. Nay, but who is it ? 
 
114 SHAKESPEABE. Act III. 
 
 Gelia. Is it possible ? 
 
 Rosalind. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary 
 vehemence, tell me who it is. 
 
 Celia. wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful 
 wonderful ! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out 
 of all hooping ! 189 
 
 Rosalind. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, 
 though I am caparison'd 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 stammer, 
 that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man out of thy 
 mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle, 
 either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take 
 the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. 
 Is he of God's making ? What manner of man? Is his 
 head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ? 200 
 
 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 tripp'd 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. ' ' 
 
 Celia, I' faith, coz, 'tis he. 
 
 Rosalind. Orlando? 210 
 
 Celia. Orlando. 
 
 Rosalind. Alas the day ! what shall I do with my 
 
Scene il. AS YOU LIKE IT. 115 
 
 doublet and hose ? What did he when thou saw'st him ? 
 What said he ? How look'd 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. 
 
 Celia. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth 
 first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's 
 size. To say ay aiid no to these particulars is more than 
 to answer in a catechism. 221 
 
 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 
 him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn. 
 
 Rosalind. It may well be calPd Jove's tree, when it 
 drops forth such fruit. 230 
 
 Celia. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Rosalind. Proceed. 
 
 Celia. There lay he, stretch'd 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 cur- 
 vets unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. 
 
 Rosalind. 0, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. 
 
 Celia. I would sing my song without a burden : 
 thou bring'st me out of tune. 241 
 
116 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 EosALiND. 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, in the distance, Orlando and Jaques. 
 
 EosALiND. 'Tis he : slink by, and note him. 
 
 [Celia and Eosalind retire. 
 
 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. 249 
 
 Jaques. God buy 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. 
 
 Orlando. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses 
 with reading them ill-favoredly. 
 
 Jaques. Eosalind is your love's name ? 
 
 Orlando. Yes, just. 
 
 Jaques. I do not like her name. 
 
 Orlando. There was no thought of pleasing you 
 when she was christen'd. 260 
 
 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 conn'd 
 them out of rings ? 
 
 Orlando. Not so ; but I answer you right painted 
 cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 117 
 
 Jaques. You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas 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. 271 
 
 Orlando. .1 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. 
 
 Orlando. 'Tis 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 drown'd in the brook : look but in, 
 and you shall see him. 280 
 
 Jaques. There I shall see mine own figure. 
 
 Orlando. Which I take to be either a fool or a 
 cipher. 
 
 Jaques. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, 
 good Signior Love. 
 
 Orlando. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good 
 Monsieur Melancholy. 
 
 [_^xit Jaques. Celia a7id E-osalind come forward. 
 
 EosALiND. \_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 ? 290 
 
 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. 
 
 E-osalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest : 
 
118 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 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 ? 299 
 
 EosALiND. By no means, sir. Time travels in di- 
 vers paces with divers persons. I'll 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 ? 
 
 EosALiND. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid 
 between the contract of her marriage and the day it is 
 solemniz'd : 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 ? 309 
 
 EosALiND. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich 
 man that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps easily 
 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 bur- 
 den of heavy tedious penury : these Time ambles withal. 
 
 Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal ? 
 
 KosALiND. 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 ? 320 
 
 EosALiND. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they 
 sleep between term and term and then they perceive 
 not how Time moves. 
 
 Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 119 
 
 EosALixD. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here 
 in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. 
 
 Orlando. Are you native of this place ? 
 
 EosALiND. As the cony that you see dwell where 
 she is kindled. 329 
 
 Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you 
 could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
 
 Rosalind. I have been told so of many : but indeed 
 an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who 
 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 touch'd with so many giddy of- 
 fences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. 
 
 Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal 
 evils that he laid to the charge of women ? 340 
 
 Rosalind. There were none principal : they were all 
 like one another as half-pence are ; every one fault seem- 
 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 for- 
 est, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind 
 on their barks ; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies 
 on brambles ; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosa- 
 lind : if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give 
 him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quo- 
 tidian of love upon him. 352 
 
 Orlando. I am he that is so love-shak'd. I pray 
 you, tell me your remedy. 
 
120 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 Rosalind. There is none of ni}^ 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. 
 
 Orlando. What were his marks ? 358 
 
 Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue 
 eye and sunken, which you have not ; an unquestionable 
 spirit, which you have not ; a beard neglected, which j^ou 
 have not 5 but I pardon you for that ; for simply your 
 having in beard is a younger brother's revenue ; then 
 your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unhanded, 
 your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and everything 
 about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you 
 are no such man : you are rather point-devise in your 
 accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover 
 of any other. 369 
 
 Orlando. Fair youth, I would I could make thee 
 believe I love. 
 
 Rosalind. Me believe it ! you may as soon make 
 her that you love believe 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 lie to their con- 
 sciences. 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. 379 
 
 Rosalind. But are you so much in love as your 
 rhymes speak ? 
 
 Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express 
 how much. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 121 
 
 EosALiND. 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 punish'd 
 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 ? 390 
 
 KosALiND. Yes, one ; and in this manner. He was 
 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, changeable, longing 
 and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, 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 color; would now 
 like him, now loathe him ; then entertain him, then for- 
 swear him ; now weep for him, then spit at him ; that I 
 drave my suitor from his mad humor of love to a living 
 humor of madness ; which was, to forswear the full 
 stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely mo- 
 nastic. And thus I cur'd 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. 407 
 
 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 
 me where it is. 
 
 Rosalind. Go with me to it and I'll show it you ; 
 
122 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest 
 you live. Will you go ? 
 
 Orlando. With all my heart, good youth. 
 
 EosALiND. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. — Come, 
 sister, will you go ? \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. The Forest. 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey 5 Jaques behind. 
 
 Touchstone. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch 
 up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey ? 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.'] knowledge ill-inhabited, worse 
 than Jove in a thatch'd house ! 10 
 
 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 little 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 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 123 
 
 what they swear in poetry may be said, as lovers, they 
 do feign. 21 
 
 Audrey. Do you wish tlien 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-fa- 
 vor'd ; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey 
 a sauce to sugar. 30 
 
 Jaques. \_Aside.'] A material fool ! 
 
 Audrey. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray 
 the gods make me honest. 
 
 Touchstone. 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. 37 
 
 Touchstone. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 
 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 village, 
 who hath promis'd 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 ! 45 
 
 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. 
 
124 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 But what though ? Courage ! As horns are odious, they 
 are necessary. It is said, iiiany a man knoivs no end of 
 his goods : right ; many a man has good horns, and 
 knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his 
 wife ; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns ? Even so. 
 Poor men alone ? No, no ; the noblest deer hath them 
 as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore 
 blessed ? No: as a wall'd town is more worthier than 
 a village, so is the forehead of a married man more hon- 
 orable than the bare brow of a bachelor ; and by how 
 much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a 
 horn more precious than to want. 60 
 
 Enter Sir Oliver Martext. 
 
 Here comes Sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Martext, you are well 
 met. Will you despatch us here under this tree, or shall 
 we go with you to your chapel ? 
 
 Sir Oliver Martext. Is there none here to give 
 the woman ? 
 
 Touchstone. I will not take her on gift of any man. 
 ; Sir Oliver Martext. Truly, she must be given, or 
 the marriage is not lawful. 
 
 Jaques. \_Confiing forward.'] Proceed, proceed: I'll 
 give her. 70 
 
 Touchstone. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't : 
 how do yon, sir ? You are very well met : God 'ild you 
 for your last company : I am very glad to see you : even 
 a toy in hand here, sir : nay, pray be cover'd. 
 
 Jaques. Will you be married, Motley ? 
 
Scene III. ^6' YOU LIKE IT. 125 
 
 Touchstone. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse 
 his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his de- 
 sires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. 
 
 Jaque. And will you, being a man of your breeding, 
 be married under a bush, like a beggar ? Get you to 
 church, and have a good priest that can tell you what 
 marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as 
 they join wainscot ; then one of you will prove a shrunk 
 panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. 84 
 
 Touchstone. \^Aside.^ I am not in the mind but I 
 were better to be married of him than of another : for 
 he is not like 'to marry me well; and not being well 
 married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to 
 leave my wife. 89 
 
 Jaques. Go thou with me and let me counsel thee. 
 
 Touchstone. Come, sweet Audrey : we must be mar- 
 ried. Farewell, good Master Oliver : not, — 
 
 sweet Oliver, 
 brave Oliver, 
 Leave vie not behind thee ; — 
 
 but, 
 
 Wind away ; 
 
 Be gone, I say, 
 
 I will not to luedding with thee. 
 
 \_Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. 
 Sir Oliver Martext. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fan- 
 tastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my 
 calling. \_Exlt. 
 
126 SHAKESPEAEE. Act III. 
 
 Scene IV. The Forest. Before a Cottage. 
 Enter Rosalind a7id Celia. 
 
 Rosalind. Never talk to me ; I will weep. 
 
 Celia. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to con- 
 sider that tears do not become a man. 
 
 Rosalind. But have I not cause to weep ? 
 
 Celia. As good cause as one would desire ; therefore 
 weep. 
 
 Rosalind. His very hair is of the dissembling 
 color. 
 
 Celia. Something browner than Judas's : marry, his 
 kisses are Judas's own children. lo 
 
 Rosalind. I' faith, his hair is of a good color. 
 
 Celia. An excellent color : your chestnut was ever 
 the only color. 
 
 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 religiously ; 
 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. 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 127 
 
 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. 29 
 
 Celia. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a lover 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. 
 
 Rosalind. I met the Duke yesterday and had much 
 question with him : he ask'd me of what parentage I 
 was ; I told him, of as good as he ; so he laugh'd, and let 
 me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such 
 a man as Orlando ? 38 
 
 Celia. 0, that's a brave man ! he writes brave 
 
 verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and 
 
 breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart 
 
 of his lover ; 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 CoKiN. 
 
 CoEiN. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired 
 
 After the shepherd that complain'd of love, 
 
 Whom 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 
 
128 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
 Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, 
 If you will mark it. 
 
 EosALiND. 0, come, let us remove : 
 
 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 
 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say 57 
 
 I'll prove a busy actor in their play. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. The Forest. 
 
 Enter Silvius and Phebe. 
 
 SiLvius. 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 th' 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 Kosalind, 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 murder in mine eye : 10 
 
 'Tis 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, murderers ! 
 
Scene V. AS YOU LIKE IT. 129 
 
 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, 0, for shame, for shame, 
 
 Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers ! 
 
 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 upon a rush, 
 
 The cicatrice and capable impressure 
 
 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 
 
 SiLvius. 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 pit}^ thee. 
 
 RosALiXD. [^Coming forumrd.'] And why, I pray 
 you ? Who might be your mother, 
 That you insult, exult, and all at once. 
 Over the wretched ? AVhat though you have no 
 
 beauty, — 
 As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 Than without candle may go dark to bed, — 
 
130 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 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 life, 
 
 I think she means to tangle my eyes too ! 
 
 No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it : 
 
 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, 
 
 Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream. 
 
 That can entame my spirits to your worship. 
 
 You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
 
 Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ? so 
 
 You are a thousand times a properer man 
 
 Than she a woman : 'tis such fools as you 
 
 That makes the world full of ill-f avor'd children : 
 
 'Tis 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 : 
 
 Por I must tell you friendly in your ear. 
 
 Sell when you can : you are not for all markets : so 
 
 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. 
 
 EosALiND. He's fallen in love with your foulness, 
 and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as 
 
Scene V. AS YOU LIKE IT. 131 
 
 fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce 
 her with bitter words. — AVhy look joii 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, 
 'Tis 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 Avorld could see, 
 None could be so abus'd in sight as he. — 
 Come, to our flock. 
 
 \_Exennt Rosalind, Celia and Corin. 
 
 Phebe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of 
 might. 80 
 
 WJio ever lov\l that lov\l 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 neighborly ? 
 
 Silvius. I would have you. 
 
 Phebe. Why, that were covetousness. 
 
 Silvius, the time was that I hated thee ; 91 
 
 And yet it is not that I bear thee love : 
 
132 SHAKESPEARE. Act III. 
 
 But since that tliou canst talk of love so well, 
 
 Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
 
 I will endure ; and I'll employ thee too : 
 
 But do not look for further recompense 
 
 Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. 
 
 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 loo 
 
 To glean the broken ears after the man 
 That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
 A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. 
 
 Phebe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me 
 ere while ? 
 
 SiLVius. Not very well, but I have met him oft 
 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 : 
 'Tis 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'll 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 'tis well : 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip, 
 A little riper and more lusty red 120 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 133 
 
 Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the difference 
 
 Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
 
 There be some women, Silvins, 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 : iso 
 
 I marvel why I answer'd not again : 
 
 But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
 
 I'll write to him a very taunting letter. 
 
 And thou shalt bear it ; wilt thou, Silvius ? 
 
 SiLvius. Phebe, with all my heart. 
 
 Phebe. I'll 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. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. The Forest of Arden. 
 Enter Kosalind, Celia, and Jaques. 
 
 Jaques. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better 
 acquainted with thee. 
 
 EosALiND. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 
 
134 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV, 
 
 Jaques. I am so ; I clo love it better than laughing. 
 
 HosALiND. Those that are in extremity of either are 
 abominable fellows and betray themselves to every mod- 
 ern censure worse than drunkards. 
 
 Jaques. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 EosALiND. Why, then 'tis good to be a post. 9 
 
 Jaques. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 
 which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fantas- 
 tical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the sol- 
 dier'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 
 objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my 
 travels, in w^hich my often rumination wraps me in a 
 most humorous sadness. 19 
 
 Rosalind. A traveller ! By my faith, you have 
 great 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 gain'd my experience. 
 
 BosALiND. 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. iNay, then, God buy you, an you talk in 
 blank-verse ! so 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 135 
 
 RosALiXD. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller : look you 
 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 vvill scarce think you have swam in a 
 gondola. \_Exit Jaques.] 
 
 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. 
 
 OpvLAxdo. My fair Eosalind, I come within an hour 
 of my promise. 4i 
 
 RosALixD. 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 clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant him 
 heart-whole. 
 
 Orlaxdo. Pardon me, dear Eosalind. 
 
 RosALixD. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more 
 in my sight : I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. 50 
 
 Orlando. Of a snail ? 
 
 EosALiXD. Ay, of a snail ; for though he comes 
 slowly, he carries his house on his head ; a better join- 
 ture, I think, than you make a woman ; besides, he 
 brings his destiny with him. 
 
 Orlaxdo. What's that ? 
 
 EosALixD. 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. 
 
136 SHAKESPEABE. Act IV. 
 
 Orlaxdo. Virtue is no liorn-maker ; and my Kosa- 
 lincl is virtuous. 6i 
 
 E-osALixD. And T am your Rosalind. 
 
 Celia. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a 
 Eosalind of a better leer than you. 
 
 E-osALUSTD. Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in 
 a holiday humor and like enough to consent. What 
 would you say to me now, an I were your very very 
 Eosalind ? 
 
 Orlando. I would kiss before I spoke. 69 
 
 Eosalind. Nay, you were better speak first ; and 
 when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might 
 take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they p.re 
 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 ? 
 
 Eosalind. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
 begins new matter. 
 
 . Orlando. Who could be out, being before his beloved 
 mistress ? 79 
 
 Eosalind. Marry, that should you. if I were your 
 mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my 
 wit. 
 
 Orlando. What, of my suit ? 
 
 Eosalind. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of 
 your suit. Am not I your Eosalind ? 
 
 Orlando. I take some joy to say you are, because I 
 would be talking of her. 
 
 Eosalind. Well; in her person, I say I will not have 
 you. 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 137 
 
 Orlaxdo. Then, in mine own person, I die. go 
 
 EosALiXD. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 
 world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this 
 time there was not any man died in his own person, -;;/- 
 delicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dash'd 
 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 liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had 
 turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer 
 night ; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him 
 in the Hellespont and, being taken with the cramp, was 
 drown'd : and the foolish chroniclers 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. i04 
 
 Orlando. I would not have my right Rosalind of 
 this mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. 
 
 EosALiXD. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But 
 come, now I will be your Eosalind in a more coming-on 
 disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it. 
 
 Orlaxdo. Then love me, Rosalind. no 
 
 RosALixD. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays 
 and all. 
 
 Orlaxdo. And wilt thou have me ? 
 
 RosALixD. Ay, and twenty such. 
 
 Orlaxdo. What sayest thou ? 
 
 RosALiXD. Are you not good ? 
 
 Orlaxdo. I hope so. 
 
 BosALixD. Why, then, can one desire too much of a 
 
138 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 good thing ? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and 
 marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you 
 say, sister ? 121 
 
 Orlando. Pray thee, marry us. 
 
 Celia. I cannot say the words. 
 
 KosALiND. 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, / take thee, Rosalind, 
 for ivife. 131 
 
 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 wing'd. 
 
 Rosalind. Now tell me how- long you would have 
 her after you have possess'd 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 w^hen 
 they wed : maids are May when they are maids, but the 
 sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jeal- 
 ous 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 desires than a 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 139 
 
 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 hyen, and that when thou art 
 inclin'd to sleep. i5i 
 
 Orlando. But will my Eosalind do so ? 
 
 EosALiND. By my life, she will do as I do. 
 
 Orlando. 0, but she is wise. 
 
 Eosalind. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
 this : the wiser, the way warder : make the doors upon a 
 woman's wit, and it will out at the casement ; shut that, 
 and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with 
 the smoke out at the chimney. 
 
 Orlando. A man that had a wife with such a wit, 
 he might say, IVlf, ivhither wilt ? i6i 
 
 Eosalind. You shall never take her without her 
 answer, unless you take her without her tongue. 0, 
 that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's 
 occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she 
 will breed it like a fool ! 
 
 Orlando. For these two hours, Eosalind, I will 
 leave thee. 
 
 Eosalind. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two 
 hours ! 170 
 
 Orlando. I must attend the Duke at dinner : by 
 two o'clock I will be with thee again. 
 
 Eosalind. Ay, go your ways, go your ways : I knew 
 what you would prove ; my friends told me as much, 
 and I thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours 
 won me : 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, death ! 
 Two o'clock is your hour ? 
 
140 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 Orlando. Ay, sweet Rosalind. its 
 
 Rosalind. By my troth, and in good earnest, and 
 so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not 
 dangerous, 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 may be 
 chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful : therefore 
 beware my censure and keep your promise. 
 
 Orlando. With no less religion than if thou wert 
 indeed my Rosalind : so adieu. iss 
 
 Rosalind. Well, Time is the old justice that ex- 
 amines all such offenders, and let Time try : adieu. 
 
 [Exit Orlando. 
 
 Celia. You have simply misus'd our sex in your 
 love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose pluck'd 
 over your head, and show the world what the bird hath 
 done to her own nest. 
 
 Rosalind. 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 unknown 
 bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 
 
 Celia. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you 
 pour affection in. it runs out. 200 
 
 Rosalind. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus 
 that was begot of thought, conceiv'd 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 how 
 deep I am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 141 
 
 out of the sight of Orlando : I'll go find a shadow and 
 sigh till he come. 
 
 Celia. And I'll sleep. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. The Forest. 
 Enter Jaques, Lords and Foresters. 
 
 Jaques. Which is he that killed the deer ? 
 
 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 : 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so 
 it make noise enough. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Forester. 
 
 What shall he have that killed the deer ? lo 
 
 His leather skin and horns to wear. 
 Then sing him home. 
 
 \_The rest shall hear this burden. 
 Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ; 
 It was a crest ere thou wast born ; 
 Thy father's father wore it, 
 And thy father bore it : 
 The horn, the horn, the lusty horn 
 Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
142 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 Scene III. The Forest. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 KosALiND. 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. 
 
 Miter SiLVius. 
 
 SiLvius. My errand is to you, fair youth : 
 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 
 
 [Giving a letter. 
 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 tenor : pardon me ; 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 EosALiND. 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, 
 AVere man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will ! 
 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : 
 AVhy 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. 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 143 
 
 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-color'd hand : I verily did think 
 That her old gloves were on, but 'twas 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, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
 A style for challengers ; why, she defies me. 
 Like Turk to Christian : women's gentle brain 
 Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention. 
 Such Ethiop 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 : [Beads. 
 
 Art thou god to shepherd turned, 40 
 
 That a maiden'' s heart hath burned ? 
 
 Can a woman rail thus ? 
 
 SiLvius. Call you this railing ? 
 Rosalind. [_Reads.~\ 
 
 Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
 TFarr'st thou with a woman'' s heart ? 
 
144 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 Did you ever hear such railm 
 
 9 
 
 Whiles the eye of mian did woo me, 
 That could do no vengeance to me. 
 
 Meaning me a beast. 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne co 
 
 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 ; 
 Hoiu, then, might your prayers move ! 
 He that brings 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 make : 
 
 Or else by him my love deny, 
 And then Vll study how to die. 
 
 SiLVius. Call you tliis chiding ? 
 
 Celia. Alas, poor shepherd ! 65 
 
 EosALiND. 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 endur'd ! Well, go your way to her, for I see 
 love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to 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 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 145 
 
 her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; 
 for here comes more company. \^JExit Silvius. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 
 Oliver. Good morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you 
 know, 
 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 
 A sheep-cote fenc'd about Avith olive-trees ? 
 
 Celia. West of this place, down in the neighbor 
 bottom : 
 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 
 Left on your right hand brings you to the place. so 
 
 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 : TJte hoy is fair, 
 Of female favor, and bestows himself 
 Like a ripe sister : the woman low 
 And hroivner than her brother. Are not you 
 The owner of the house I did inquire 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 Kosalind 
 He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ? 
 
 EosALixD. 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. 
 
146 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 Celia. I pray you, tell it. 
 
 Oliver. When last the young Orlando parted from 
 you, 
 He left a promise to return again 
 
 Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, loo 
 
 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 'tis 
 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. 0, I have heard him speak of that same 
 brother ; 
 And he did render him the most unnatural 
 That liv'd amongst men. 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 147 
 
 Oliver. And well he might so do, 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 EosALiis^D. 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 ; 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge. 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion. 
 Made him give battle to the lioness, 130 
 
 Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling 
 Prom miserable slumber I awak'd. 
 
 Celia. Are you his brother ? 
 
 EosALixD. Was't you he rescu'd ? 
 
 Celia. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
 him? 
 
 Oliver. 'Twas I ; but 'tis 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, i40 
 
 As how I came into that desert place : — 
 I' 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 
 The lioness had torn some flesh away. 
 Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted. 
 
148 SHAKESPEARE. Act IV. 
 
 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
 
 Brief, I recover'd him ; bound up his wound ; 150 
 
 And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am, 
 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin, 
 
 Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth 
 
 That he in sport doth call his Eosalind. 
 
 [^Ros aijJn D faiiits. 
 
 Celia. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Gany- 
 mede ! 
 
 Oliver. Many will swoon when they do look on 
 blood. 
 
 Celia. There is more in it. Cousin ! — Ganymede ! 
 
 Oliver. Look, he recovers. 160 
 
 Rosalind. I would I were at home. 
 
 Celia. We'll 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 
 w^ould 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. 
 
Scene I. AS YOU LIKE IT. 149 
 
 EosALiND. So I do ; 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. 179 
 
 E-osALiXD. I shall devise something : but, I pray 
 you, commend my counterfeiting to him. — Will you 
 go ? [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. T/ie Forest of Arden. 
 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. 
 
 Audrey. Ay, I know who 'tis : he hath no interest 
 in me in the world : here comes the man you mean. 9 
 
 Touchstone. It is meat and drink to me to see a 
 clown ; by my troth, v/e that have good wits have much 
 to answer for ; we shall be flouting ; we cannot hold. 
 
 Enter William. 
 
150 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 William. Good ev'n, Audrey. 
 
 AuDKEY. God ye good ev'n, William. 
 
 William. And good ev'n to you, sir. 
 
 Touchstone. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy 
 head, cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be cover'd. How 
 old are you, friend ? 
 
 William. Five and twenty, sir. 
 
 Touchstone. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? 
 
 William. William, sir. 21 
 
 Touchstone. A fair name. AVast born i' the forest 
 here ? 
 
 William. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
 
 Touchstone. Thank God ; a good answer. Art rich ? 
 
 AViLLiAM. Faith, sir, so so. 
 
 Touchstone. So so is good, very good, very excellent 
 good : — and yet it is not ; it is but so so. Art thou wise ? 
 
 William. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 29 
 
 Touchstone. Why, thou say'st well. I do now re- 
 member a saying, TJie fool doth tlilnh he is ivise ; but 
 the ivise man knoivs 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 mouth ; meaning 
 thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. 
 You do love this maid ? 
 
 William. I do, sir. 
 
 Touchstone. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? 
 
 William. ISTo, sir. sa 
 
 Touchstone. Then learn this of me : to have, is to 
 have ; for it is a fis:ure in rhetoric that drink, beins? 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 151 
 
 pour'd out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one cloth 
 empty the other ; for all your writers do consent that 
 i2ys6 is he : now, you are not l/jse, for T am he. 
 
 AViLLiAM. Which he, sir ? 
 
 ToucHSTOxE. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 
 Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the vulgar 
 leave, — the society, — which in the boorish is com- 
 pany, — 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 better un- 
 derstanding, diest ; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee 
 away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into 
 bondage. I will deal in jjoison with thee, or in basti- 
 nado, or in steel ; I will bandy with thee in faction ; I 
 will o'er-run thee with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred 
 and fifty ways : therefore tremble, and depart. 57 
 
 Audrey. Do, good William. 
 
 W^iLLiAM. God rest you merry, sir. ^Exit. 
 
 Enter CoRix. 
 
 CoRix. Our master and mistress seeks you ,- come, 
 away, away ! 
 
 ToucHSTOxE. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audre}^ — I at- 
 tend, I attend. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ScEXE II. The Eorest. 
 
 Enter Orlax^do and Oliver. 
 
 Orlaxdo. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance 
 you should like her ? that but seeing you should love 
 
152 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 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 my father's house and all the revenue 
 that was old Sir Kowland's will I estate upon you, and 
 here live and die a shepherd. 12 
 
 Orlando. You have my consent. Let your wed- 
 ding be to-morrow : thither will I invite the Duke and 
 all's contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; 
 for look you, here comes my Rosalind. 
 
 Enter Rosalind. 
 
 Rosalind. God save you, brother. 
 
 Oliver. And you, fair sister. [Exit. 
 
 Rosalind. 0, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me 
 to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! 20 
 
 Orlando. It is my arm. 
 
 Rosalind. I thought thy heart had been wounded 
 with the claws of a lion. 
 
 Orlando. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a 
 lady. 
 
 Rosalind. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
 feited to swoon when he show'd me your handkercher ? 
 
 Orlando. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 28 
 
 Rosalind. 0, I know where you are : nay, 'tis true : 
 
Scene 11. AS YOU LIKE IT. 153 
 
 there was never any thing so sudden but the fight of 
 two rams and Caesar's thrasonical brag of / caine, saiv, 
 and overcame : for your brother and my sister no sooner 
 met but they look'd, no sooner look'd but they lov'd, no 
 sooner lov'd but they sigh'd, no sooner sigh'd but they 
 ask'd 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 incontinent : they are in the very wrath of love 
 and they will together ; clubs cannot part them. 39 
 
 Orlando. They shall be married to-morrow ; and I 
 will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But, 0, how bitter a 
 thing it is to look into ha]opiness 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. 
 
 EosALiND. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your 
 turn for Rosalind ? 
 
 Orlando. I can live no longer by thinking. 48 
 
 E-osALTXD. I will weary you then no longer with idle 
 talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some 
 purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good con- 
 ceit : I speak not this, that you should bear a good 
 opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you 
 are ; neither do I labor for a greater esteem than may in 
 some little measure draw a belief from you, to do your- 
 self 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, convers'd with a magician, most pro- 
 
154 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 found in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love 
 Eosalind so near the heart as your gesture 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 appear not inconvenient 
 to youj to set her before your eyes to-morrow human 
 as she is and without any danger. 65 
 
 Orlando. Speak'st thou in sober meanings ? 
 
 Eosalind. 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 
 married to-morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind 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. 
 
 Eosalind. 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. 
 
 Phebe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to 
 love. 
 
 SiLvius. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; so 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phebe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orlando. And I for Eosalind. 
 
 Eosalind. And I for no woman. 
 
Scene II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 155 
 
 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 Eosalind. 
 
 KosALiND. And I for no woman. 
 
 SiLvius. It is to be all made of fantasy, 90 
 
 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 Rosalind. 
 
 Rosalind. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phebe. [To Rosalind.] If this be so, why blame 
 you me to love you ? 100 
 
 SiLVius. [To Phebe.] If this be so, why blame 
 you me to love you ? 
 
 Orlando. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 you? 
 
 Rosalind. Who do you speak to. Why blame you 
 rue to love you ? 
 
 Orlando. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. 
 
 Rosalind. Pray you no more of this ; 'tis like the 
 howling of Irish wolves against the Moon. \_To Sil- 
 vius.] I will help you if I can. \_To Phebe.] I would 
 love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. 
 \_To Phebe.] I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, 
 and I'll be married to-morrow. \_To Orlando.] I will 
 
156 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 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 mar- 
 ried to-morrow. [To Orlando.] As you love E-osalind, 
 meet. [To Silvius.] As you love Phebe, meet. And 
 as I love no woman, I'll meet. So fare you well : I have 
 left you commands. 120 
 
 Silvius. I'll not fail, if I live. 
 
 Phebe. 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 v.^e be married. 
 
 Audrey. I do desire it with all my heart ; and I 
 hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of 
 the world. Here come two of the banish'd Duke's pages. 
 
 Enter two Pages. 
 
 PiRST Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 
 
 Touchstone. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, 
 and a song. 
 
 Second Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. 9 
 
 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 ? 
 
Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 157 
 
 Second Page. I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, 
 like two gipsies on a horse. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 It 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 the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time, 
 
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: 
 
 Sweet lovers love the Spring. 20 
 
 Between the acres of the rye. 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 These pretty country folks would lie 
 In spring-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. 
 
 And therefore take the present time, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; 30 
 
 For love is crowned with the prime 
 
 In spring-time, etc. 
 
 Touchstone. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
 was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very 
 untuneable. 
 
 PiRST Page. You are deceiv'd, sir : we kept time, 
 we lost not our time. 
 
 Touchstone. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time 
 lost to hear such a foolish song. God buy you ; and God 
 mend your voices ! Come, Audrey. ' \_Exeu7it. 
 
158 SHAKESPEABE. Act V. 
 
 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 Kosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. 
 
 EosALiND. Patience once more, whiles our compact 
 is urg'd. 
 \_To the Duke.] You say, if I bring in your Eosalind, 
 You will bestow her on Orlando here ? 
 
 Duke Senior. That would I, had I kingdoms to 
 
 give with her. 
 Eosalind. \_To Orlando.] And you say, you will 
 
 have her, when I bring her ? 
 Orlando. That would I, were I of all kingdoms 
 king. 10 
 
 Eosalind. \_To Phebe.] You say, you'll marry me, 
 
 if I be willing ? 
 Phebe, That will I, should I die the hour after. 
 Eosalind. But if you do refuse to marry me. 
 You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd ? 
 Phebe. So is the bargain. 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 159 
 
 KosALiND. [To SiLvius.] You say, that you'll have 
 Phebe, if she will ? 
 
 SiLVius. Though to have her and death were both 
 one thing. 
 
 Rosalind. I have promis'd to make all this matter 
 even. 
 Keep you your word, duke, to give your daughter ; 
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : 20 
 
 Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me. 
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd : 
 Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll 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 favor. 
 
 Orlando. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him 
 Methought he was a brother to your daughter : 
 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. 
 
 Jaques. 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 call'd 
 fools. 
 
160 SHAKESPEABE. Act V. 
 
 Touchstone. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 39 
 
 Jaques. Good my lord, bid liim welcome : this is 
 the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met 
 in the forest : he hath been a courtier, he swears. 
 
 Touchstone. If any man doubt that, let him put 
 me to my purgation. I have trod a measure ; I have 
 flatter'd 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 'ild you, sir ; I desire you of the 
 like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the coun- 
 try copulatives, to swear and to forswear, according as 
 marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an 
 ill-fa vor'd thing, sir, but mine own ; a poor humor of 
 mine, sir, to take that that no man else will : rich honesty 
 dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house ; as your pearl 
 in your foul oyster. 61 
 
 Duke Senior. By my faith he is very swift and sen- 
 tentious. 
 
 Touchstone. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and 
 such dulcet diseases. 
 
 Jaques. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you find 
 the quarrel on the seventh cause ? 67 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT 161 
 
 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 
 sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, 
 he was in the mind it was : this is call'd the Eetort 
 Courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well 
 cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself : 
 this is calPd the Quip Modest. If again, it was not well 
 cut, he disabled my judgment : this is call'd the Reply 
 Churlish. If again, it was not well cut, ho would answer, 
 I spake not true : this is call'd the Heproof Valiant. If 
 again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lied : this is 
 call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome : and so to the Lie 
 Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. 8i 
 
 Jaques. And how oft did you say his beard was not 
 well cut ? 
 
 Touchstone. I durst go no further than the Lie 
 Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; 
 and so we measur'd swords and parted. 
 
 Jaques. Can you nominate in order now the degrees 
 of the lie ? ss 
 
 Touchstone. sir, we quarrel in print, by the 
 book ; as you have books for good manners ; I will name 
 you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous ; the 
 second, the Quip Modest ; the third, the Reply Churlish ; 
 the fourth, the Reproof Valiant ; the fifth, the Counter- 
 check 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 
 
162 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 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 you said so, then 
 I said so ; and they shook hands, and swore brothers. 
 Your If is the only peacemaker ; much virtue in If. loi 
 
 Jaques. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he's as 
 good at anything 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, Kosalind, and Celta. Still music. 
 
 Hymen. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
 When earthly things made even 
 
 Atone together. 
 Good Duke, receive thy daughter : 
 Hymen from heaven brought her, no 
 
 Yea, brought her hither. 
 That thou mightst join her hand with his 
 Whose heart within her bosom is. 
 Rosalind. \_To the 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 
 
 Eosalind. 
 Phebe. If sight and shape be true. 
 Why then, my love adieu ! 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 163 
 
 EosALixD. [_To the Buke.] I'll have no father, if 
 you be not he : 120 
 
 [To Orlando.] I'll have no husband, if you be not he : 
 [To Phebe.] Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. 
 Hymen. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion : 
 'Tis 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. 
 [To Orlando and Rosalind.] You and you no cross 
 
 shall part. 
 [To Oliver and Celia.] You and you are heart in 
 
 heart. 
 [To Phebe.] You to his love must accord, 131 
 
 Or have a woman to your lord. 
 [To Touchstone and Audrey.] You 'and you are sure 
 together. 
 As the winter to foul weather. 
 Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing. 
 Feed yourselves with questioning; 
 That reason wonder may diminish, 
 How thus we met, and these things finish. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Wedding is great Juno's crown: 
 
 O blessed bond of board and bed ! 140 
 
 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; 
 
 High wedlock, then, be honored: 
 
 Honor, high honor and renown, 
 
 To Hymen, god of every town ! 
 
164 SHAKESPEARE. Act V. 
 
 Duke Senior. my dear niece, welcome thou art to 
 me, 
 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree ! 
 
 Phebe. [To Silvius.] I will not eat my word, now 
 thou art mine ; 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 
 
 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, 150 
 
 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 
 And to the skirts of this wild wood he came 
 Where meeting with an old religious man. 
 After some question with him, was converted 
 Both from his enterprise and from the world ; leo 
 
 His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, 
 And all their lands restor'd to them again 
 That were with him exiPd. 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. 
 
Scene IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 165 
 
 First, in this forest, let us do those ends 
 
 That here were well begun and well begot ; 
 
 And, after, every of this happy number, no 
 
 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-fall'n dignity, 
 
 And fall into our rustic revelry. 
 
 Play, music ! And you, brides and bridegrooms all. 
 
 With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall. 
 
 Jaques. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you 
 rightly. 
 The Duke hath put on a religious life. 
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court ? iso 
 
 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 THE Duke.] You to your former honor I be- 
 queath ; 
 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it : 
 [To Orlaxdo.] 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 : 
 [To Touch.] 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. 191 
 
166 SHAKE SPE ABE. Act V. 
 
 Duke Senior. Stay, Jaques, stay. 
 
 Jaques. To see no pastime I : what you would have 
 I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. 
 
 Duke Senior. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these 
 rites, 
 As Ave do trust they'll end, in true delights. \_A dance. 
 
 epilogue. 
 
 EosALiND. 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, 'tis 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 epi- 
 logue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a 
 good play ! I am not furnish'd like a beggar, therefore 
 to beg will not become me: my wayjs to conjure you; 
 and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, women, 
 for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this 
 play as please you : and I charge you, men, for the 
 love you bear to women, — as I perceive by your simper- 
 ing 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 pleas'd me, com- 
 plexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defied not; 
 and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good 
 faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I 
 make curtsy, bid me farewell. [^Exeunt. 
 
TEXTUAL NOTES. 
 
 Dramatis Personae. List first given by Rowe. 
 
 ACT I. — Scene I. 
 
 2. The omission of he before bequeathed would be an easy slip 
 for an Elizabethan printer. It is possible, however, that Shake- 
 speare designed by such ellipsis to represent the eagerness and infor- 
 mality of Orlando's outpouring to the faithful old servant. 
 
 Scene II, 
 
 4. I, missing from the folios, was supplied by Rowe. 
 51-52. The First Folio reads who perceiveth our naturall 
 wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent. The 
 
 Second Folio amends to perceiving. Malone, followed by eminent 
 editors, reads and hath sent. "Which correction is the better? 
 
 81-83. The original text gives this spirited reply to Rosalind. 
 The emendation is Theobald's. Capell would change the name 
 Fredericlc to Ferdinand. "Which of these three readings accords 
 best with the epithet old ? "What is the force of that epithet here ? 
 "Which reading, as we consider the character of the two girls and the 
 two fathers, seems most natural ? "Which implies the liveliest play 
 of conversation and action ? "Which has best authority ? 
 
 honor him : enough ! Hanmer's punctuation for the folio read- 
 ing honour him enough. Between these readings editors are about 
 evenly divided. "What is the main advantage of each? 
 
 167 
 
168 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 119. Farmer, Dyce, and Hudson would take the words with bills 
 on their necks from Rosalind, and add them to Le Beau's preceding 
 speech. Would this arrangement better the wit of the dialogue? 
 
 136. see. So the original texts. What are the objections to the 
 reading? Consider carefully Theobald's emendation, set; Heath's, 
 get; and Dr. Johnson's, feel. 
 
 154. man. So the original texts. Many editors change to men. 
 Is this necessary ? 
 
 160, The folios read Princesse cals. Many editors, because of 
 Orlando's reply, change to the plural. Is this necessary? 
 
 170-171. Some editors would change your eyes and your judg- 
 ment to our eyes and our judgment. Is this necessary? What 
 should be the emphasis in the original reading? 
 
 179. wherein offends the grammatical sense of certain editors, 
 who would substitute therein or herein, or omit the word altogether. 
 What is the strict verbal antecedent of wherein? What is the 
 implied antecedent of idea? Would severe grammatical accuracy 
 be expected of Orlando under the circumstances ? 
 
 202. Here a few editors are tempted to read An you mean, or its 
 equivalent, If you mean. Does the original text call for change? 
 
 239. The folios read all promise, which, as Hudson says, " upsets 
 the metre to no purpose." 
 
 Giving him a chain from her neck. This is Theobald's addi- 
 tion. In Lodge's novel we read that Rosalind " tooke from hir neck 
 a Jewell, and sent it by a Page to the young Gentleman." Search 
 the third act to find out why Theobald supplied here chain rather 
 than jewel. 
 
 267. The folios have taller. If Shakespeare's usual script was as 
 blind as it appears in his few extant signatures, the printer might 
 easily have read as taller the word lesser. Other emendations pro- 
 posed are shorter, smaller, lower. What two statements in the 
 play make it evident that Celia was not as tall as Rosalind? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 97. "Theobald mended what he considered faulty in sense and 
 grammar by reading 'me' for 'thee' and 'are' for 'am.' Johnson 
 considered the former change unnecessary; 'for,' said he, 'where 
 
Act II. TEXTUAL NOTES. 169 
 
 would be the absurdity of saying, You know not the law which 
 teaches you to do right?' No one would now think of writing, 
 ' thou and I am,' but as it is an instance of a construction of fre- 
 quent occurrence in Shakespeare's time, by which the verb is at- 
 tracted to the nearest subject, it should not be altered. See Ben 
 Jonson, The Fox, ii. 1 : ' Take it or leave it, howsoever, both it and 
 I am at your service.' And Cynthia's Revels, i. 1: 'My thoughts 
 and I am for this other element, water.' " —Wright. 
 
 102. your change. So the First Folio. The later folios read 
 your charge, and a number of editors, recognizing how easily the 
 yc of an Elizabethan MS. might be taken for y, have adopted the 
 charge. "Which of the three readings is best ? 
 
 ACT II. -Scene I. 
 
 5-11. This passage has been subjected to much editorial dis- 
 cussion. Theobald, followed by eminent scholars, would read in 
 line 5 but for not, claiming that the penalty of Adam was to suffer, 
 in place of Eden's perpetual spring, the changes of the weather. 
 Others contend that the penalty of Adam was labor, from which 
 the Duke and his lords, who "fleet the time carelessly" with song 
 and feast and hunting, are exempt. But the passage, as a whole, 
 has no reference to labor. Its general sense would seem to be: "I 
 am entrenched in my own content. I translate the stubbornness 
 of fortune into so quiet and so sweet a style that here, far from false 
 luxury of courts and the pang of man's ingratitude, here in the wild 
 and lonely forest of Arden, though the winter wind may blow and 
 the bitter sky may freeze, even till the body shrink with cold, I 
 am lord of my own spirit and pluck the precious jewel wisdom from 
 the ugliest shape of adversity." The sense of the flesh is one thing, 
 and the feeling of the soul another. 
 
 18. I would not change it. The original text, divergence from 
 which should be extremely cautious, gives these words to Amiens; 
 but they form so human a conclusion to the address of the Duke, — 
 whose later inconsistency of action is human, too, — and make so poor 
 a preface to the young lord's tribute of loyal admiration, that the 
 emendation prevails. 
 
170 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act II. 
 
 50. The folios read friend. As the final s, present and absent, is 
 responsible for much editorial perplexity, it may be, as Walker has 
 suggested and Furness iterated, that the fault lies with Shakespeare's 
 handwriting. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 17. brother. A few editors would amend to brother's. Why? 
 Who is " that gallant " ? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 8. bonny. Warburton would amend to bony. Which is bet- 
 ter? 
 
 73. First Folio, clearly by misprint, reads seaventie for seven- 
 teen. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 1. First Folio has merry for weary. Which is right, and why ? 
 
 9. The later folios have can for cannot, as if the double nega- 
 tive of Chaucer and Shakespeare were already passing into disfavor. 
 
 37. The later folios have wearying. Which is better? 
 
 42. The First Folio blunders here, reading searching of they 
 would. The later folios corrected to their wound, and Rowe 
 improved the improvement to thy w^ound. 
 
 65. First Folio blunders again, reading your friend; corrected in 
 the later folios. 
 
 95. Walker suggests factor, but feeder is appropriate here in 
 either its general Elizabethan meaning of servant or the more 
 particular signification of shepherd. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 3, turn. Some editors would change to tune. Is there a differ- 
 ence in meaning? 
 
 57. Ducdame. Still editors ask, with Amiens, "What's that 
 ducdame? " and still we wince under the thrust of Jaques's reply: 
 " 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle." The circle 
 is already large enough. The word has been interpreted as a Latin 
 equivalent for come hither, Due ad me; as a country-woman's call 
 
Act III. TEXTUAL NOTES. 171 
 
 to her ducks; as a phrase from an old Keltic game, passed down 
 by little modern Britishers in their play of " Tom Tidler's Ground," 
 and in various ways else. Mr. Ainger has suggested a change to 
 Ducdome (pronounced Duc-do'-me) for the sake of keeping rhyme 
 
 with the last verse, — 
 
 An if he -will come to' me. 
 
 Cf. 
 
 " That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. 
 Ful loude he soong. Com hider, love, to me." 
 
 Canterbury Tales, " Prologue," 671-672. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 55. Theobald's emendation of the verse as it stands in the folios: 
 
 Seeme senselesse of the bob. 
 
 73. First Folio has "wearie verie meanes. How could that read- 
 ing be interpreted? What gives plausibility to Singer's emendation 
 wearer's ? 
 
 ACT III. — Scene I. 
 
 1. A few editors would amend see to seen. Is this necessary? 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 89. fair. A change to face has been proposed. But see Gram- 
 matical Notes. 
 
 92. rank to market. Suggested alterations are rant at mar- 
 ket (noisy volubility), rate at market (calling of wares), rate to 
 market (jog-trot pace), rack to market (technical term for an 
 ambling gait). The original rank seems to picture a single file of 
 butter-women trotting along the road to market. Which of the five 
 readings most commends itself? 
 
 113. it ■will be. Lettsom proposes it will bear. Is the change 
 desirable ? 
 
 120. The folios have 
 
 Why should this Desert bee. 
 
 Tyrwhitt proposed the insertion of silent after desert, but Rowe's 
 
172 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 simpler change to a desert has been generally adopted. Is the origi- 
 nal deficient in sense, or meter, or both ? 
 
 150. Jupiter. Spedding has led many of the most scrupulous 
 editors after him in his emendation pulpiter. But carefully weigh 
 this sturdy protest from Dr. Furness : — 
 
 " Spedding's emendation, pulpiter, adopted by the Cambridge ed- 
 itors and by Dyce in his second edition, but abandoned in his third, is 
 plausible and alluring. It is the word of all words to introduce the 
 train of thought that follows, with which ' Jupiter ' has no connection. 
 This addition of an -er to a noun in order to change it to an agent, 
 like ' moraler ' in ' Othello,' ' justicer ' in ' Lear,' etc., is, as we all 
 know, thoroughly Shakespearian. Moreover ' Jupiter ' is not printed 
 in Italics as though it were a proper name, to which Wright calls 
 attention, and as it is printed in the only other place where it is used 
 in this play, II., IV., 1 ; which adds to the likelihood that it is here 
 a misprint. All these considerations are clamorous for Spedding's 
 pulpiter. But, on the other hand, the text is clear without it; once 
 before Rosalind has appealed to 'Jupiter,' and to use this mouth- 
 filling oath, which is 'not dangerous,' may have been one of her 
 characteristics, as certainly the use of expletives in general is. Al- 
 though ' Jupiter ' is not elsewhere printed in Roman, yet ' Jove ' is, 
 and in this very scene, line 229; and so also is 'Judas' in III., IV., 
 9. Pulpiter can hardly be called an emendation; there is no obscu- 
 rity which amounts to a defect. It is an improvement ; and against 
 verbal improvements, which it is far from impossible to make in 
 Shakespeare's text, we should, I think, acquire and maintain a 
 dogged habit of shutting our eyes and closing our ears." 
 
 189. hooping. Rowe would amend to lioping, and Theobald to 
 whooping. But cf. : — 
 
 " That admiration did not lioope at tliem." 
 
 Benrij V., II. ii. 108. 
 
 Also the Elizabethan phrases: " Out of all ho," " out of all cry." 
 
 230. drops forth such fruit. Corrected by the later folios from 
 the droppes forth fruite of the First Folio. 
 
 237. thy tongue. The folios read the tongue. As the Eliza- 
 bethan printer often set type from dictation, the and thy, in rapid 
 speaking, might easily be mistaken for each other. 
 
Act IV. TEXTUAL NOTES. 173 
 
 250. God buy you. Folio reading. Where does this contrac- 
 tion stand in the gradation, God be with you; God b' wi' you; 
 Goodby? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 48. horn-beasts. The frequent confusion in the First Folio of 
 final d and final e inclines some editors to change the horne-beasts 
 of the original text to horn'd beasts. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 57-58. Thus the folios. A smoother and perhaps more natural 
 reading is that embracing two slight alterations : — 
 
 Bring us to see this sight, and you shall say 
 I prove a busy actor in their play. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 22. Does the metre require any addition? If so, what addition 
 is suggested by the preceding line ? 
 
 37. have no beauty. Editors stumble at this, and would substi- 
 tute had more beauty, or have some beauty. Does the sense of 
 the passage call for such alteration? 
 
 66. your foulness. Hanmer proposed a change to her foulness. 
 Is this necessary? 
 
 117. By what omission would the metre be improved? 
 
 ACT IV. -Scene I. 
 
 18. in Avhich my often rumination. The First Folio reads in 
 which by often rumination, but the Second corrects by to my. It 
 has been proposed by later editors to alter in to on. Would this 
 modify the meaning? 
 
 54. " Hanmer's change, ' than you can make,' is upheld by 
 White (ed. 1) on the score that 'Rosalind is speaking not of Orlan- 
 do's acts, but of his abilities.' To me, however, the change is not 
 only needless, but erroneous. ' You ' does not refer to Orlando per- 
 sonally, any more than ' your wives,' in line 58, accuses him of polyg- 
 amy. It is the French ' on.' I suppose the meaning of the sentence 
 is that a snail is better off than a woman because he enjoys all the 
 
174 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V. 
 
 time the possession of liis liouse, wliereas a woman cannot possibly 
 possess her jointure until she becomes a widow, and if she dies before 
 her husband, will never have it at all." — Furness. 
 
 101. Hanmer would change chroniclers to coroners. Why? To 
 which reading does the plural number point? 
 
 Scene II. 
 12. The First Folio prints as the third line of the song 
 Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen. 
 
 Theobald re-arranged, making the last six words a stage direction. 
 Other editors would bracket all ten. Which reading is most musi- 
 cal ? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 7. The First Folio has did bid. Later folios omit the did. 
 Which is better? 
 
 33. women's. Some editors print woman's. Is the change 
 necessary? 
 
 87. ripe sister. Lettsom ingeniously conjectures this to be a 
 blunder for right forester, the latter word being sometimes written 
 forster and foster. But the reading of the Folio is consistent : " The 
 boy is fair, of a girlish look, and with the manner of a mature girl." 
 Rosalind's deportment, while essentially maidenly, has a woman's 
 poise and self-possession, with no suggestion of the awkward shyness 
 that often attends young girlhood. 
 
 89. owner. Capell conjectures owners. But see Literary Notes. 
 
 101. Chewing the food. Persistently misquoted as chewing the 
 cud. 
 
 104. an oak. The folios read an old Oake. Is the epithet 
 helpful or harmful to sense and metre? 
 
 155. his blood. The First Folio has this blood. Which is bet- 
 ter? 
 
 ACT v.- Scene II. 
 
 94. obedience. The folios read observance, apparently an acci- 
 dental repetition on the printer's part. Obedience is Malone's sug- 
 gestion. "Other emendations proposed are 'obeisance' (which S. 
 
Scene IV. TEXTUAL NOTES. 175 
 
 uses only in T. of S. Aid. 1, 108: 'do him obeisance'); 'endurance' 
 (which he has three times in tlie sense of suffering, or sufferance), 
 ' deservance ' (wlaich he does not use at all), 'perseverance' (as it 
 is accented by S.) and ' devotion.' The last two are jjlausible, but 
 no more so than 'obedience,' which the poet uses oftener than 
 either." — Rolfe. 
 
 105. Who do you speak to? This is a deviation, constrained by 
 Orlando's answer, from the original text. Why do you speake too? 
 The question, thus worded, soems to have little force, as one remem- 
 bers how lusty a part Orlando had borne throughout in this lovers' 
 quartette. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 12. the only prologues. Alteration to only the prologues 
 
 has been suggested, but such transposition of only was an Eliza- 
 bethan failing. Wright suggests comparison of this pa'ssage with 
 I. ii. 186, and "Much Ado About Nothing," IV. i. 323: "Men are 
 only turned into tongue." He notes, too, a closely parallel passage 
 in Sidney's "Arcadia," lib. 2, p. 110 (ed. 1598) : " Gynecia, who with 
 the onely bruze of the fall, had her shoulder put of ioynct." 
 
 35. untuneable. Theobald, with a goodly following, advocates 
 a change to untlmeable. Would this be better? 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 4. Many changes for this line have been suggested, but its 
 meaning is complete as it stands. Orlando, certainly, could inter- 
 pret it, fearing, as he did, that his hope of Rosalind was merely 
 hope, devoid of all certainty, and knowing that he feared. 
 79. lied. The folios have lie. What need of the change? 
 
 112-113. The original text has his hand . . . his bosome. Is 
 the change necessary? Are we to suppose that Rosalind was at 
 this time in "doublet and hose"? 
 
 117. Is it possible that the word sight is a printer's blunder here, 
 repeated from the line above? Consult Phebe for emendation. 
 
 146. Theobald and Walker propose the reading daughter-Tvel^ 
 come. Is this better? 
 
 162. The First Folio, probably by misprint, has him for them. 
 
GRAMMATICAL NOTES. 
 
 ACT I. — Scene I. 
 
 2. bequeathed. Where is the subject, — drowned in printer's 
 ink, or choked in Orlando's eager throat? — Abbott, § 399. Cf. 
 Textual Notes. 
 Poor a thousand crowns. Cf . : — 
 
 " So rare a wonder'd father." 
 
 The Tempest, IV. i. 123. 
 
 "For this transposition of the indefinite article, see Abbott, § 422." 
 — "Wright. (Cf. Abbott, § 85.) "This transposition of the article 
 is akin to that still allowed after how and so." — Rolfe. " To me 
 the simplest exjilanation would be to consider it as a transposition 
 not of the article, but of the adjective, for the sake of greater em- 
 phasis." — FURNESS. 
 
 12. riders dearly hired. Make good the ellipsis. — Abbott, 
 § 403. 
 
 14. the w^hich. — Abbott, § 270. 
 
 18. bars me the place. Explain the omission of the preposi- 
 tion. — Abbott, § 198. 
 
 42. him. Explain the case. —Abbott, § 208. 
 
 72. go buy. Make good the ellipsis. — Abbott, § 349. 
 
 73-74. thou . . . you. " Throughout this quarrel between the 
 brothers, and throughout the subsequent conference between Oliver 
 and Charles, it is worth while to observe, and to appreciate if we 
 can, the use of thou and you, whi'Ch appears, at first sight, to be 
 almost indiscriminate." — Furness. Cf. Abbott, §§ 231-235. 
 
 82. spoke Abbott, § 343. 
 
 176 
 
Scene 11. GEAMMATICAL JS^OTES. 177 
 
 84-85. no thousand cro-wns neither. Why is the double nega- 
 tive appropriate here? — Abbott, § 406. 
 
 107. to stay. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 356. 
 
 108. belov'd of her uncle. Is this still in common usage? — 
 Abbott, § 170. Cf. 159-160. 
 
 112. a many merry men. Explain the construction. — Abbott, 
 §87. 
 
 114. fleet the time. " Not elsewhere used transitively by Shake- 
 speare." — E.OLFE. 
 
 123, shall. Meaning what ? — Abbott, § 315. 
 
 127. w^ithal. Meaning what? — Abboit, § 196. 
 
 140. thou wert best. "Another old English idiom, now obso- 
 lete." — E-OLFE. To what preceding phrase in the speech does Dr. 
 E,olfe refer, and is that phrase also obsolete ? 
 
 147. brotherly. "An adverb, as in the only other instances of 
 the word in Shakespeare." — Rolfe. 
 
 149. I must . . . thou must. Paraphrase each. 
 
 158. than he. Is this irregularity explicable? — Abbott, §§ 205- 
 206. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 5-6. teach me to forget . , . learn me how to remember. — 
 
 Abbott, § 291. If Bartlett's Shakespeare Concordance, or similar 
 work, is at hand, inquire into the poet's use or omission of how after 
 learn and teach. 
 
 10. so. Meaning what ? — Abbott, § 133. 
 
 17-18. nor none. — Abbott, § 406. Cf. 27-28 and 50-51. 
 
 18. like. Meaning what ? Cf. IV. i. 66. 
 
 52. reason of. — Abbott, § 174. 
 
 86-87. since . . . w^as silenced. Is this modem usage ? — 
 Abbott, § 347. 
 
 111. to do. Is this modern usage ? — Abbott, § 359. 
 114. There comes. How may. the singular form be accounted 
 for ? — Abbott, § 335. 
 
 122. ■v%'hich Charles. Why is the antecedent repeated ? — 
 Abbott, § 269. 
 
 123. that. Equivalent to what? — Abbott, § 283. 
 136. any else longs. Expand. — Abbott, § 244. 
 
178 .1^^ YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 148-149. successfully. " The adverb is similarly used for the 
 adjective in 'The Tempest,' III. i. 32: 'You look wearily.'" — 
 Wright. 
 
 151. are you crept. How far is this consistent with present 
 usage? — Abbott, § 295. 
 
 177. might. How irregular? — Abbott, §§ 370-371. 
 
 179. me. How used ? — Abbott, § 223. For ipherein, see Tex- 
 tual Notes. 
 
 18G. only. Modifying what? — Abbott, §§ 420-421. 
 
 209. should down. Explain the ellipsis. — Abbott, §§ 30, 41, 
 and 405. 
 
 221. still. Meaning what? — Abbott, § G9. 
 
 222. shouldst. What would be the modern word here ? — 
 Abbott, § 322. 
 
 233. unto. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 185. Cf. : — 
 
 "And to that dauntless temper of his mind 
 He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour." 
 
 Macbeth, III, 1. 52. 
 
 237. sticks me at heart. What is the meaning of sticks in this 
 passage? Cf. : "To stick the heart of falsehood." — Troilus and 
 Cressida, III. ii. 202. If sticks is used here intransitively, in the 
 sense of is fixed, what is the syntax of me? Does the phrase at 
 heart indicate ellipsis? "This is, I think, an instance of the ab- 
 sorption of the definite article in the dental termination of ' at.' 
 This absorption, originally adopted for the sake of ease in pronuncia- 
 tion, led gradually to the omission of the article in other cases, as in 
 'milk comes frozen home in pail,' or in 'spectacles on nose and 
 pouch on side.' " — Furness. 
 
 242. could. Meaning what? Cf. : — 
 
 "She's good, being gone; 
 The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on." 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, I. ii. 131-132, 
 
 253. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 494. 
 
 255. Or. Contracted from what? — Abbott, § 136. 
 
 259. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 479. 
 
 260. misconstrues. Accented as in the original spelling "mis- 
 consters." 
 
Scene I. GRAMMATICAL NOTES. 179 
 
 265. was. Abbott, §§ 333, 412. 
 
 281. bounden. Is this form archaic ? — Abbott, § 344. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 27. on such a sudden. "Not elsewhere used by Shakespeare. 
 On the sudden seems to be his favorite phrase, but he uses also 
 on a sudden and of a sudden." — Rolfe. 
 
 28. with. Analogous to the use of this preposition in what 
 modern phrase ? 
 
 41. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 465. 
 
 49. If that. What is the use of that here? — Abbott, § 287. 
 
 65. To think. What is omitted ? — Abbott, § 281. 
 
 70. remorse. "Pity, compassion. Cf. 'Merchant of Venice,' 
 IV. i. 20: ' mercy and remorse;' 'King John,' III. iv. 50: 'tears 
 of soft remorse,' etc. The only meaning of remorseful in Shake- 
 speare is compassionate, and of remorseless (as in our day) piti- 
 less." — Rolfe. 
 
 71. that time. In what similar expressions is the preposition 
 omitted ? — Abbott, § 202. 
 
 73. stiU. Meaning what? Cf. I. ii. 221. 
 78. Scan the verse. 
 93. Scan the verse. 
 
 97. am. On what principle may this form be explained? — 
 Abbott, § 412. 
 
 114. Scan the verse. 
 
 115. Because that. Cf. 49 above. 
 common. What part of speech? — Abbott, § 1- 
 
 116. all points. Cf. 71. 
 
 122. it. How used? — Abbott, § 226. 
 128. Scan the verse. 
 
 ACT II. — Scene I. 
 
 1. exile. How accented? Cf . : — 
 
 " Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge." 
 
 Coriolanus, V. iii. 45. 
 
 8. Which. How used here?— Abbott, § 272. 
 
180 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act II. 
 
 21. VIS. How vised ? — Abbott, § 223. 
 
 22. irks me. " Cf. the 'Eton Latin Grammar:' ' Taedet, it 
 irketh.' See also ' 1 Henry VI.,' I. iv. 105: ' it irks his heart; ' and 
 '3 Henry VI.,' II. ii. 6: 'it irks my very soul.' Shakespeare uses 
 the word only three times. Irksome occurs in III. v. 94 below." — 
 
 ROLFE. 
 
 24. confmes. How accented? Cf. : — 
 
 " Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice." 
 
 Julius Csssar, 111. 1. 272. 
 33. the which place. Cf. I. ii. 22. 
 
 46. needless. Meaning what? Cf. "Lear," II. iv. 151: "Age 
 is unnecessary." 
 
 49. Scan the verse. 
 
 50. of. Is this modern usage ? — Abbott, § 170. 
 52. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 495. 
 
 62. kill them up. Collect, by aid of Bartlett or Schmidt, further 
 examples of this intensive use of up in Shakespeare's plays. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 5. Is there any peculiarity in the wording of this verse? — 
 Abbott, § 423. 
 
 13. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 477. 
 
 20. inquisition. Meaning what? Cf. the only other instance of 
 Shakespeare's use of the word : — 
 
 " You have often 
 Begun to tell me what 1 am, but stopp'd 
 And left me to a bootless inquisition." 
 
 The Tempest, I. ii. 35. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 7. so fond to. Make good the ellipsis. —Abbott, § 281. 
 " ' Fond ' is contracted from ' fonned ' or ' fonnyd.' The latter form 
 occurs in Wyclif's version of 1 Cor. i., 27 (ed. Lewis), where 'the 
 thingis that ben fonnyd ' is the rendering of ' quae stulta sunt.' The 
 former is found in the second of the Wicliffite Versions, edited by 
 Forshall and Madden, 1 Cor. i. 20, ' Whether God hath not maad the 
 wisdom of this world fonned ? ' where the Vulgate has ' nonne stultam 
 
Scene IV. GRAMMATICAL NOTES. 181 
 
 fecit Deus sapientiam liujus muncli?' Hence ' fonnednesse ' in the 
 same version is used for ' foolishness.' ' Fonned ' is derived from 
 'fon,' a fool, which occurs in Chaucer's "Reve's Tale," 1. 4087: — 
 
 'II hail, Aleyn, by God ! thou is a fon.' 
 
 And ' fon ' is connected with the Swedish fane, and perhaps with the 
 Latin vanus." — Wright. 
 
 10. some kind of men. How may this irregularity he accounted 
 for? — Abbott, § 412. 
 
 11. them. Explain the syntax. — Abbott, § 414. 
 
 12. No more do yours. Would no less be a grammatical im- 
 provement ? 
 
 23. use. How far does this accord with present idiom ? 
 
 24. fail of that. Is this use of the preposition still allowable? 
 29-30. Notice, throughout this dialogue between Orlando and 
 
 Adam, the use of thou and you. 
 
 42. What is the ellipsis here? — Abbott, § 403. Or should we 
 understand lie from the preceding line ? 
 
 49. in my blood. "These words seem by a kind of zeugma to 
 belong both to the verb ' apply ' and to the adjectives ' hot " and ' re- 
 bellious.' " — MOBERLY. 
 
 50. Nor did not. Cf. 10-11 in the following scene. — Abbott, 
 § 406. 
 
 58. sweat. "Past tense. The ed may be simply dropped after 
 t for euphony. Cf. 'quit' for 'quitted,' 'waft' for 'wafted,' etc. 
 (Abbott, § 341) ; or sweat may represent a strong form swat ; swet 
 occurs in Middle English." — J. C. Smith. 
 
 60. Scan the verse. 
 
 68. Expand the line, in order to realize Shakespeare's power of 
 condensation. 
 
 69. thee. " Note the change of the personal pronoun with the 
 changed personal relations." — Furness. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 9. See Textual Notes. 
 
 11. had rather. Is this good English at present? 
 19. Look you — Abbott, § 212. 
 
182 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act II. 
 
 34. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 457, a. 
 
 35, 38. What is the significance of these broken verses in the 
 shepherd's rhapsody? — Abbott, § 511. 
 
 39. broke. Cf. I. i. 82. 
 
 42. searching of. Wliy should the preposition occur here? — 
 Abbott, § 178. 
 
 46. a-night. How is tlie prefix to he explained? — Abbott, 
 § 24.. 
 
 47, 49. the kissing of . . . the w^ooing of. Colloquial. — 
 Abbott, § 93, e7ul. 
 
 54. wiser. What is the irregularity? — Abbott, § 1. 
 
 70, 71. Where is the ellipsis ? — Abbott, § 403, end. 
 
 for succor. What is the meaning of for here? — Abbott, § 154. 
 
 84. What. Why not Who ? — Abbott, § 254. 
 
 shall. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 315. 
 
 89. Is this modern idiom? 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 5. Come hither. What is the mode? — Abbott, § 364. 
 25. that they call. What is omitted ? — Abbott, § 244. 
 30-31. the %vhile. What is the original syntax? — Abbott, 
 § 137. 
 
 32. look you. How may the omission of the preposition be 
 explained? — Abbott, § 200. 
 
 33. disputable. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 3. 
 59. go sleep. Cf . I. i. 72. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 2. for food. Cf. II. iv. 71. 
 
 5. comfort. Noun or verb? and, if verb, transitive or intran- 
 sitive? 
 
 10. presently. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 59. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 1. be. Why the subjunctive? — Abbott, § 299. 
 
 3. even now. Is this present usage ? — Abbott, § 38. 
 
 4. hearing of. Cf. II. iv. 42. 
 
Scene VII. GRAMMATICAL NOTES. 183 
 
 16. rail'd on. " Shakespeare uses on or upon after rail oftener 
 than at. Against is sometimes the preposition, as in II. v. 60 and 
 III. ii. 270 oi' the present play." — Rolfe. 
 
 26. ripe. Is this the modern form? 
 
 29. moral. Verb or adjective here? 
 
 32. sans. " This French preposition appears to have been brought 
 into the language in the fourteenth century, and occurs in the form 
 saun, sanz, sauntz, saunz, and saunce. It may, perhaps, have 
 been employed at first in purely French phrases, such as ' sans ques- 
 tion,' 'Love's Labour's Lost,' V. i. 91; 'sans compliment,' 'King 
 John,' V. vi. 16. But Shakespeare uses it with other words, as here, 
 and in 'Hamlet,' III. iv. 79. Nares quotes instances from Jonson, 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, and others. So that it appears 
 to have had an existence for a time as an English word," — Wright. 
 
 41. the which. Cf. I. i. 14. 
 
 52. as way. — Abbott, § 83. 
 
 75. When that. Cf. I. iii. 49 and 115. 
 
 78. Is the manner of expression here archaic or rhetorical? 
 
 79. what. Cf. II. iv. 84. 
 
 88. Scan the verse. — Abbott, § 500. 
 eat. Cf. I. i. 82 and II. iv. 39. 
 
 89. Nor Shalt not. Cf, I. i. 84-85; I. ii. 17-18, 27-28, 50-51 ; II. 
 iii. 50; II. iv. 10-11. Later instances of the double negative will not 
 be regarded in these notes, 
 
 90. Explain the redundant use of the preposition. — Abbott, 
 § 407. 
 
 103. Is there any ellipsis here? — Abbott, § 100. 
 
 for food. Cf. II. iv. 71 and II. vi. 2. 
 
 118. the which hope. Cf. I. ii. 122 and II. i. 33. 
 
 127. Whiles. Originally what? — Abbott, § 1.37. 
 
 134. ye. What case? — Abbott, § 236. 
 
 138. Cf. 90 above. 
 
 142. Scan the verse. 
 
 144. Scan the verse. 
 
 145, 147. lilce snail . . . like furnace. Cf. I. ii, 237 and II. vii. 
 52 ; also 158. 
 
 151. Scan the verse. 
 
 162. his. — Abbott, § 228, 
 
184 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 165. Sans. See 32 above. 
 
 167. feed. Is this in accordance with our present English speech ? 
 With the German ? 
 
 171. to question. What use of the infinitive here? -Abbott, 
 §356. 
 
 197. Thou. Why the change of pronoun? 
 
 198. your. Whom is the Duke addressing? 
 
 ACT III, -Scene I. 
 
 2. Explain the ellipsis here. — Abbott, § 202. 
 4. thou present. Expand and account for this ellipsis. — 
 Abbott, § 381. Cf.:- 
 
 " Joy absent, grief is present for that time." 
 
 Richard 11. , I. iii. 259. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 7. That. Supply the ellipsis. — Abbott, § 283. 
 10. unexpressive. Meaning what ? — Abbott, § 3. Cf . : — 
 
 " And hears the unexpressive nuptial song." 
 
 Milton's Lycidas, 1. 176. 
 
 she. Equivalent to what? —Abbott, § 224. Cf. 379. 
 21. Hast any. What is the ellipsis here, and how explained? — 
 Abbott, § 400-401. 
 
 42. parlous. A corrupt form of perilous. 
 
 43. Not a -vvhit. "As 'not' is itself a contraction of nawiht, 
 or naAvhit, ' not a whit ' is redundant." — Wright. 
 
 46. but you. Meaning what ? — Abbott, § 125. 
 
 49. Instance. Noun or verb ? 
 
 50. still. Meaning what? Cf. I. ii. 221 and I. iii. 73. 
 
 58. more sounder. — Abbott, § 11. " The rise of double compar- 
 atives in Middle English was perhaps due to a struggle between the 
 French and English modes of comparison. In Elizabethan English 
 they serve to give emphasis." — J. C. Smith. 
 
 63. in respect of. What is the modern equivalent? 
 
 64. perpend. " A word used only by Pistol, Polonius, and the 
 Clowns." — Schmidt. 
 
Scene II. GRAMMATICAL NOTES. 185 
 
 89. fair. Beauty. "This use of the adjective for an abstract 
 substantive, though rare in the preceding century, becomes very 
 common again in Elizabethan English, probably owing to the influ- 
 ence of Latin." — J.C.Smith. Cf . : — 
 
 " Whereat a sudden pale, 
 Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, 
 Usurps her cheek." 
 
 Venus and Adonis, 1. 589. 
 
 90. you. What is the construction ? 
 
 92. right. Meaning what ? Cf . 115 and 266. 
 
 121. For. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 151. 
 
 126. That. Equivalent to what? — Abbott, § 283. 
 
 131. sentence end. — Abbott, § 217. 
 
 149. Explain the construction. — Abbott, §§ 216, 416. Cf. : "But 
 on this condition, that she should follow him, and he not to follow 
 her." — Bacon's Advancement of Learning, 1. 284. 
 
 168. should. " According to Abbott (§ 328), used to denote a 
 statement not made by the speaker ; but it may possibly depend on 
 wondering rather than on hear." — Rolfe. 
 
 173. thati Meaning what ? — Abbott, § 284. 
 
 which. How used? — Abbott, § 271. 
 
 181. w^ith. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 193. 
 
 203. stay. Meaning what ? 
 
 208. brow . . . maid. What case? Cf. 266. 
 
 215. makes. Meaning what? Cf. I. i. 27-30. 
 
 216. ^vith. '* With is used, by a sort of inversion, of separation 
 from things or persons with which one has been connected. We still 
 ' part with ' things: in Elizabethan English with persons as well." — 
 J. C. Smith. 
 
 218. borro^v. Investigate the history of this word. 
 223. freshly. Cf. I. ii. 148-149 and II. vi. 13. 
 241. bring'st me out. How far in accordance with modern 
 idiom? 
 
 247. myself alone.— Abbott, § 20, footnote. 
 
 248. fashion sake. Cf. 131 above. 
 
 254. moe. "3Ioe is from Old English ma (adverb), more from 
 mara (adjective) = greater. 3Ia was used as neuter noun followed 
 
186 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 by the genitive, i.e., more of so and so. . . . In Shakespeare's usage 
 moe is always followed by a plural." — J. C. Smith. 
 
 257. Yes, just. Is this present idiom ? 
 
 267. .from w^hence. Is this recognized in modern English as 
 redundant? 
 
 301. "u^lio. How many instances on the page of this usage? Is 
 it common with Shakespeare? — Abbott, § 274. 
 
 307. se'niiight. Cf . fortnight. 
 
 308. year. Is this old form of the plural still in use? 
 
 332. of. What is the modern equivalent here ? — Abbott, § 170. 
 
 353. shak'd. " In the past participle Shakespeare has the weak 
 form shaked, as well as shaken, and shook. Shaked is found as 
 early as Skelton and as late as the eighteenth century." — J. C. 
 Smith. 
 
 355. There is none. — Abbott, § 335. 
 
 356-357. in which cage. Cf. I. ii. 122; II. i. 33 and II. vii. 118. 
 
 .360. unquestionable. Meaning what? " "White refers to ' Thou 
 com'st in such a questionable shape,' 'Hamlet,' I. iv. 43, where the 
 word is used in exactly the same sense ; that is, Thou com'st in a 
 shape so proper to be questioned, and yet this line is often quoted as 
 if ' questionable ' meant ' suspicious.' " — Furness. 
 
 .368. Expand the ellipsis. 
 
 370. thee. Why this change of pronoun? 
 
 375. still. See 50 above. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 9. ill-inhabited. Meaning v*'hat? — Abbott, § 294. 
 49. But what though ? Expand the phrase. — Abbott, § 64. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 12. your. How used? — Abbott, § 221. 
 
 37. what. — Abbott, § 253. 
 
 47. that. Why not who? — Abbott, §260. 
 
 Scene V. 
 3. Scan the verse. 
 
 5. Falls. — Abbott, § 291 . 
 
 6. But first begs. — Abbott, § 120. Cf. III. ii. 46. 
 
Scene 11. GRAMMATICAL NOTMS. 187 
 
 12. that are. See III. iv. 47. 
 
 13. AVho. Why personification here? — Abbott, § 264. 
 42. Scan the verse. 
 
 53. makes. — Abbott, § 247. 
 93. since that. Cf. I. iii. 49. 
 121. Scan the verse. 
 
 ACT IV.— Scene I. 
 
 2-3. Note the pronouns. 
 
 18. in. Does this accord with present usage ? 
 often. What part of speech here ? 
 29. an. — Abbott, § 101. Cf. 38, 49, and 67 below. 
 34. What is omitted here? — Abbott, § 201. 
 50. of. Cf. III. ii. 332. 
 
 58. beholding. Is this present usage? — Abbott, § 372. 
 
 59. prevents. In the original sense of anticipates. 
 
 64. leer. "Middle English, lere. Old English, hleor cheek, 
 look. At first used in a good sense, but twice in Skelton (time of 
 Henry VIII.) of ugly looks. In Shakespeare (1) look in general, 
 (2) a winning look. Now a sly look." — J. C. Smith. 
 66. lilte enough to consent. Is this modern idiom? 
 70. Cf. I. i. 140. 
 
 73. warn. Cf. Audrey's exclamation in III. iii. 4. 
 93. was not. Is this present usage? — Abbott, § 347. 
 96. Leander. What is the syntax ? — Abbott, § 243. 
 115-116. thou . . . you. Watch the pronouns throughout the 
 mock-marriage scene. 
 
 156. make the doors. " Cf. German machen zu. The expres- 
 sion survives in Yorkshire and Leicestershire dialect." — J. C. 
 Smith. 
 173. your. Why this change in pronoun ? 
 183. pathetical. Meaning what? 
 191,196. your . . . thou. Why this variation ? 
 fathom. Is this still a plural form? 
 206. go find. Cf. I. i. 72 and II. v. 59. 
 
 Scene II. 
 8. so. Meaning what? — Abbott, § 133. 
 
188 AS TOU LIKE IT. Act V. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 10. writing of it. Cf. II. iv. 42, 47, 49. 
 16. and that. Make good the ellipsis. — Abbott, § 382. 
 35. Ethiop. "Not used elsewhere by Shakespeare as an adjec- 
 tive." — ROLFE. 
 
 67. thou. Why this change in pronoun ? 
 
 108-109. itself . . .her. An apparent confusion of genders, due 
 to Shakespeare's dislike of the form its, which was in hardly better 
 favor with his contemporaries. 
 116. When that. See I. iii. 49. 
 should.— Abbott, § 326. 
 
 165. sirrah. Ordinarily used to an inferior. Perhaps it indicates 
 here a dash of Rosalind's saucy playfulness. 
 
 a body. Now colloquial, as the well-known Scotch song wit- 
 nesses : — 
 
 " If a body meet a body 
 
 Comin' tbrougb the rye." 
 
 ACT y. — Scene I. 
 
 12. shall. A suggestion of compulsion. 
 60. seeks. — Abbott, § 336. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 3. wooing. The absolute use of the participle. — Abbott, 
 § 378. 
 
 4. persever. The common Elizabethan spelling, the accent 
 falling on the second syllable. 
 
 6. of her. — Abbott, § 225. 
 
 53. insomuch. A unique instance of the use of the word in 
 Shakespeare's writings. This also holds good of inconvenient, line 
 63 below, and of ungentleness, line 73. 
 68. you. Howused? — Abbott, § 223. 
 
 100. to love. What use of the infinitive here ? — Abbott, § 356. 
 105. Who. Cf. Ill, ii. 301-320. 
 
Scene IV. GRAM3IATICAL NOTES. 189 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 12. only. See Textual Notes. 
 
 13. a. Equivalent to what ? — Abbott, § 81. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 5. whUes. Cf. II. vli. 127, and 135 below. 
 22. to. How accounted for ? — Abbott, § 416. 
 148. combine. Meaning what? Cf. : — 
 
 " I am combined by a sacred vow." 
 
 Measure for Measure, IV. iii. 149. 
 
 152. how that. "Which word is redundant? 
 
 163. to be. What use of the infinitive? — Abbott, § 354. 
 
 170. every. Used as what part of speech here? — Abbott, § 12. 
 
 185. deserves. — Abbott, § 336. 
 
 189. thy. Why this change of pronoun ? 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 13. as please. " Abbott (§ 367) gives this as an example of ' the 
 subjunctive used indefinitely after the relative.' . . . But Walker 
 well suggests that there may be ' a double meaning here : as may be 
 acceptable to you.' " — Furness. 
 
 18. that lik'd me. Meaning what ? Cf . : 
 
 " The music likes you not." 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, IV. ii. 56. 
 
LITERARY NOTES. 
 
 Title. Perhaps suggested by a phrase in Lodge's Preface : " If you 
 
 like it, so." 
 
 Dramatis Personse. Shakespeare is partial to dukes. He sub- 
 stitutes here Dukes of Burgundy for Lodge's Gerismond and Toris- 
 mond, lawful and usurping Kings of France. The sweet-voiced 
 Amiens, lord of courtesy, is Shakespeare's creation, as is also the 
 melancholy Jaques (pronounced Ja-ques). Le Beau has no proto- 
 type in Lodge's novel, but Charles figures there as "the Norman." 
 Sir Rowland de Boys is Shakespeare's alteration of the name Sir 
 John of Bordeaux. The three sons are known in the novel as Sala- 
 dyne, Fernandine, and Rosader. The names Oliver and Orlando, 
 chosen by Shakespeare in place of Saladyne and Rosader, are famous 
 in French romance. Adam is known to Lodge as Adam Spencer, or, 
 in businesslike moments, A. Spencer. Dennis, what there is of him, 
 is new, and so are Touchstone, Sir Oliver Martext, William, Audrey, 
 and Hymen. Shakespeare seems to have been careless in repeating 
 the names Oliver and Jaques, and singularly free from vanity in 
 giving his own name to the booby. Corin and Silvius figure in the 
 novel as Coridon (taken from Virgil) and Montanus. Why did 
 Shakespeare alter the name Montanus to Silvius ? Why did he dub 
 his fool Touchstone? Rosalind, signifying rose-sweet, Shakespeare 
 accepts from Lodge, and also Phebe, but Celia's name in the novel is 
 Alinda. 
 
 ACT I. — Scene I. 
 
 The first act introduces Orlando, with his attendant figures of 
 hostile brother and faithful old servant; then Rosalind, with her 
 corresponding group of tyrannical uncle, devoted cousin, and, by way 
 
 190 
 
Scene I. LITERARY NOTES. 191 
 
 of added charm, the fool for merriment. Hero and heroine meet, 
 love, and are parted, the banished Rosalind, with Celia and Touch- 
 stone, stealing forth in disguise en route for the Forest of Arden. 
 
 The first scene puts us in possession of the general situation, gives 
 us lively action, enlists our sympathy for Orlando, and, incidentally, 
 our liking for old Adam. Compare Lodge (Introduction, pp. 14-17). 
 
 1. "What is gained to the drama by Orlando's confidential out- 
 break to Adam ? Does this occur in the novel ? 
 
 2. bequeathed. See Textual Notes. 
 
 but poor a thousand crowns. How does this bequest differ 
 from that of the novel? How does this difference bear upon the 
 motives of Oliver? 
 
 3. as thou say'st. How much do these words suggest ? 
 
 4-5. my sadness. What is Orlando's grievance? Is it of a 
 creditable sort? 
 
 5. at school, i.e., at the university. Compare what Saladyne 
 says (p. 15) of the " middle brother." 
 
 7. rustically. Suggested by Lodge's " a peasant by nourture." 
 
 8. at home. Cf. : — 
 
 "Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits." 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, I. i. 2. 
 
 12. manage. Meaning what ? 
 
 17. countenance, i.e., treatment. 
 
 19. mines, i.e., undermines. 
 
 23. Compare the speech as a whole with Rosader's soliloquy 
 (p. 15). How has Shakespeare improved on his original? 
 
 25-26. As Lodge i)uts it, Saladyne " thought to shake him out of 
 his dumps." 
 
 27-31. Follow the pun. "Marry," as an expletive, springs from 
 the name of the Madonna. 
 
 34-35. be naught a while. While continuing the suggestions 
 of "mar" and "make," the phrase is clearly a contemptuous dis- 
 missal, which stings Orlando to hot protest. 
 
 36. husks. The story of the Prodigal Son was known to Eliza- 
 bethans not only from Scripture direct, but from puppet-shows 
 ("Winter's Tale," IV. iii. 103) and tapestries ("2 Henry IV.," 
 II. i. 157). 
 
192 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 44-45. Explain the graceful phrases " gentle condition of blood " 
 and " courtesy of nations." 
 
 51-82. What is the action throughout this dialogue? Compare 
 Lodge (pp. 16-17). Has Shakespeare in any way improved upon 
 his original? For lines 52-53 see Saladyne's speech at the bottom 
 of p. 17. 
 
 83. grow upon me, i.e., exceed your prescribed station and 
 deportment, and make demands on me. 
 
 84. physic your rankness, i.e., doctor your overgrowth. 
 
 94-95. These few light words, serving as they do to show Oliver's 
 sudden assumption of a suave and would-be genial manner, also 
 introduce us to the political situation which environs the action of 
 the play. 
 
 102. Rosalind. Thus her name is sounded, like a preluding note 
 of music, before she steps upon the stage. But would not Shake- 
 speare have done better to make Oliver inquire after Celia? 
 
 105-106. being ever from their cradles bred together. Sug- 
 gested by Lodge's " fostered up from our infancies " (p. 23). Which 
 is the more picturesque ? 
 
 108. Does the event bear this statement out ? 
 
 109. A harmony the sweeter just after this discordant strife be- 
 tween brothers. 
 
 110-111. Apparently indicating a recent banishment. 
 
 112. Arden. There is a forest of Ardennes in France, and there 
 was, in Elizabethan times, an Arden wood in Warwickshire. The 
 name may well have been dear to Shakespeare for his mother's sake, 
 but Lodge had used it before him. 
 
 113-115. Lines that make the modern generations homesick. As 
 to "old Robin Hood of England," he has figured in English drama 
 from Munday to Tennyson, enriches " Ivanhoe," but, most of all, has 
 been " the English ballad-singer's joy: " — 
 
 "In tills our spacious Isle, I think there is not one 
 But he of Eohin Hood hath heard, and Little John ; 
 And to the end of time the tales shall ne'er be done 
 Of Scarlock, George a Green, and Mudge, the miller's son. 
 Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made 
 In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade." 
 
 DBA Y TON'S Polyolbion. 
 
Scene 11. LITERARY NOTES. 193 
 
 116-117. Dramatic anticipation and poetic suggestion have had 
 their turn. Tlie present action is again taken firmly in hand. 
 
 118-130. Frank enough. Compare Charles with the Norman (p. 17) 
 in Lodge. 
 
 134. vmderhand, i.e., indirect, an open appeal being obviously 
 useless in case of " the stubbornest young fellow of France." 
 
 Ii8. anatomize, i.e., reveal in full detail. 
 
 153. go alone, i.e., walk without help. 
 
 156. gamester, i.e., one ready for frolic and game. 
 
 158-160. " In a copy of the fourth folio which formerly belonged 
 to Steevens, he has marked these lines as descriptive of Shakespeare 
 himself." — Wright. 
 
 165. Coleridge, inclined in 1810 to call this closing speech of Oli- 
 ver's " un-Shakesperian," wrote of it eight years later : "It is too 
 venturous to charge a passage in Shakespeare with want of truth to 
 Nature ; and yet at first sight this speech of Oliver's expresses truths 
 which it seems almost impossible that any mind should so distinctly, 
 so livelily, and so voluntarily have presented to itself, in connection 
 with feelings and intentions so malignant, and so contrary to those 
 which the qualities expressed would naturally have called forth. 
 But I dare not say that this seeming unnaturalness is not in the 
 nature of an abused wilfulness, when united with a strong intellect. 
 In such characters there is sometimes a gloomy self-gratification in 
 making the absoluteness of the will (sit pro rations voluntas .' ) evi- 
 dent to themselves by setting the reason and the conscience in full 
 array against it." 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This scene is bright with the mirthful presence of Rosalind ; for 
 although she is first presented in a moment of despondency, Celia's 
 tender and generous affection soon dissipates the shadow. Celia takes 
 the lead, however, in jesting with Touchstone, whose wit is not yet 
 in its true Arden vein ; but in the conversation with Orlando, Rosa- 
 lind comes at once to the front. Duke Frederick shows himself un- 
 gracious and suspicious. Le Beau, a mincing fop before the ladies, 
 bears himself sensibly enough in his warning to Orlando. For action, 
 this scene presents the wrestling match, with Orlando's victory, and 
 develops the sudden love between him and Rosalind. It foreshad- 
 
194 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 ows, too, the action of the third scene. Lodge narrates the interview 
 between Oliver and Orlando, in which Oliver urges Orlando to under- 
 take the wrestling ; the chivalric tournament at court, where Rosa- 
 lind first appears, in dazzling beauty; the wrestling, which takes 
 place within the lists, and the kindling of love (pp. 17-21). Shake- 
 speare implies the first, omits the second, and substitutes in their 
 place the quiet, heart-revealing talk between the cousins and their 
 bantering of Touchstone and Le Beau. Why? 
 
 1. sweet my coz. Celia's own caressing way. 
 3-4. more mirth than I am mistress of. " What the courtly 
 Le Beau had so plainly seen to be the state of the Duke's mind was 
 not likely to have escaped Rosalind's qiiick, sensitive nature. She 
 feels the cloud of her uncle's displeasure hanging over her and ready 
 to burst at any moment. She will not pain Celia with her forebod- 
 ings, who is so far from surmising the truth that these first lines she 
 speaks are a gentle reproach to Rosalind for her want of gayety." — 
 Lady Martin. 
 
 25. " She accounted love a toye, and fancie a momentary pas- 
 sion, that as it was taken in with a gaze, might be shaken off with a 
 winke: and therefore feared not to dally in the flame." — Lodge 
 (p. 21). 
 
 27. "What qualities distinguish Celia from Rosalind? 
 
 28. M^th safety of a pure blush. " ' With preservation of your 
 modesty' is an abstract equivalent: but Shakespeare thinks in im- 
 ages." — J. C. Smith. 
 
 31-32. A wheel does not make a housewife, unless it is the right 
 kind of a wheel, as Shakespeare's Celia very well knew; but jest 
 is not earnest. The mocking of Fortune has already begun. For- 
 tune's ever-turning wheel is the emblem of her inconstancy. Vexed 
 at finding it taken for a spinning-wheel, she may abandon it, and her 
 inconstancy with it, henceforth bestowing her gifts equally. 
 
 37-42. Celia claims that fair women are false, and good women 
 are homely. Does Rosalind dispute it ? 
 
 Enter Touchstone. Probably in motley coat, with bells at skirts 
 and elbows, legs clad in different colors, head hidden in a hood 
 crested with asses' ears or the neck and head of a cock (hence the 
 term coxcomb), and hand sceptred with a wooden stick surmounted 
 
Scene II. LITERARY NOTES. 195 
 
 by rattle or bladder. Sometimes the fool carried a " dagger of lath," 
 after the fashion of the Vice in the Moralities. A wallet, hanging 
 from the girdle, served to receive the sixpences tossed the fool in 
 return for his jests. 
 
 48. natural, i.e., idiot. How does Celia play upon the word? 
 Compare III. ii. 30. 
 
 5i-55. How now, wit ! whither -wander you ? Perhaps sung 
 as a snatch from some well-known ballad. Compare IV. i. 161. 
 
 59-77. An old stage-joke : — 
 
 " I have 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." 
 
 Damon and Pythias. 
 
 This second-hand wit makes us fear, at the outset, that Touchstone 
 is no better than those 
 
 " country players, that old paltry jests 
 Pronounced in a painted motley coate ; " 
 
 but Arden will make him original. This same equivoque is used by 
 Shakespeare to strongly satiric purpose in "Richard III.," IV. iv. 
 366-372 : — 
 
 ^^ King Richard. Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown, — 
 Queen Elizabeth. Profaned, dishonored, and the third usurped. 
 King Pdchard. I swear — 
 Queen Elizabeth. By nothing ; for this is no oath : 
 
 The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honor ; 
 
 The garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue ; 
 
 The crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory : 
 
 If something thou wilt swear to be believed, 
 
 Swear, then, by something that thou hast not wronged." 
 
 78. Unanswered yet, for Touchstone's reply is sheer evasion. 
 81-82. Why does the gentle Celia speak so sharply here? 
 83. taxation, i.e., saucy satire. 
 90. How does Rosalind infer this? 
 91-92. Meaning what? See Rosalind's reply. 
 97. sport. Perhaps, in Le Beau's affected speech, pronounced 
 spot. 
 
196 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 101-102. Said or sung? 
 
 103. Celia laughs over Touchstone's dab at fine language. 
 
 105. Rosalind pricks Touchstone's swelling vanity by one of her 
 madcap puns. Cf. : — 
 
 " Oh, my offence is rank ; it smells to heaven." 
 
 Hamlet, III. iii. 36. 
 
 106. What is there about Le Beau which impels the princesses to 
 chaff him? 
 
 116. What in Le Beau's manner leads Celia to interrupt ? 
 
 119. bills, meaning, in one sense, clubs; in another, labels. See 
 Textual Notes. 
 
 121-127. Compare with Lodge's narrative of the wrestling (p. 19). 
 In what respects has Shakespeare bettered it ? 
 
 152. How does it happen that Rosalind is now so willing to stay? 
 
 168-177. Which princess employs the nobler plea ? 
 
 188-189. Orlando's pathos stands him in good stead. 
 
 191-192. Meaning what? 
 
 193. Mark the grace and graciousness of the phrase. 
 
 20.5-206. What is Celia's notion of fair play? 
 
 208-209. In " Love in a Forest " (see Introduction, pp. 6-7) there 
 is a blundering effort to improve this passage by the rendering: " If 
 I had a thunder-bolt in my hand, I cou'd tell who should fall." 
 Show how the original is better. 
 
 220-221. How does this reiiect on Frederick's character? Com- 
 pare lines 230-231. 
 
 222-225. Compare Lodge (p. 21). Why did Shakespeare deviate 
 from the novel here ? 
 
 227-229. To whom spoken? 
 
 239. Meaning what? 
 
 Giving him a chain from her neck. See Textual Notes. 
 
 211. out of suits. Meaning what? 
 
 246. quintain. Orlando's mind, as his figures of speech declare, 
 is not yet free from the impressions of the tourney and the fight. A 
 quintain was a post, sometimes carved and painted into the formid- 
 able semblance of a Turk. As the young tilter, for practice, let drive 
 at this accommodating image, it would swing around, under the 
 force of the blow, and the cross-bars, sometimes shaped as arms 
 
Scene III. LITERARY NOTES. 197 
 
 bearing sword and shield, would give the unwary assailant a dis- 
 comfiting rap. 
 
 250. "What is Celia's tone? Why does she use these particular 
 words? Compare Lodge's account of the demeanor of the lovers 
 (p. 21). Wherein does Shakespeare improve on the romance here? 
 
 251. Have with you, i.e., Come on. 
 
 254. Still Orlando's speech reflects the wrestling. 
 259. condition, i.e., disposition. Contrast Le Beau's account of 
 the usurper with the true Duke's welcome (II. i. 1-11) of 
 
 counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
 
 261. humorous, i.e., crotchety. 
 
 263-265. Does Orlando hear Le Beau's words at all ? 
 
 266. Cf. ; — 
 
 " Though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 I am not to his manners." 
 
 Merchant of Venice, II. iii. 18-19. 
 
 282. What is our modem equivalent? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 This third scene (compare Lodge, pp. 21-25) effects the banish- 
 ment of Rosalind. Lodge follows the wrestling and the falling in 
 love by a noisy quarrel at Saladyne's house, Rosalind's soliloquy, 
 confessing her love to herself, the stormy interview with the Duke, 
 who finally includes Celia in the sentence of banishment, and the 
 preparations for flight. Of these four, Shakespeare rejects the first 
 as non-essential to the romantic action, and as distastefully rude and 
 violent in itself. The second he most happily transforms from a 
 direct and rhetorical avowal of love in soliloquy to the half-uncon- 
 scious and half-unwilling revelations of the tete-a-tete. Yet even 
 Lodge gives us a touch of Rosalind's playfulness in the smile with 
 which she takes up her lute. Greatly as Shakespeare has bettered 
 the suggestions of the novel here and in the two following dialogues, 
 we must not ignore the lyric beauty of the " dittie " which Lodge's 
 Rosalind sings, — an apostrophe to the winged child Cupid, the 
 "wanton," or rogue, of classic mythology: — 
 
198 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 "ROSALYNDS MaDRIGALL. 
 
 Love in my bosome like a bee 
 
 Dotb sticke his sweete : 
 Now with his wings he playes with me, 
 
 Now with his feete. 
 "Witliin mine eyes he makes his nest, 
 His bed amidst my tender brest: 
 My kisses are his dayly feast, 
 And yet he robs me of my rest. 
 Ah wanton, will ye? 
 
 And if I sleepe, then pearcheth he 
 
 With pretty flight, 
 And makes his pillow of my knee 
 
 The livelong night. 
 Strike I my lute, he tunes the string, 
 He musicke playes if so I sing. 
 He lends me every lovely thing: 
 Yet cruell he my heart doth sting : 
 Whist wanton, still ye ! 
 
 Else I with roses every day 
 
 Will whip you hence : 
 And binde you Avhen you long to play, 
 
 For your offence. 
 He shut mine eyes to keep you in. 
 He make you fast it for your sinne, 
 He count your power not worth a pinne. 
 Alas, what hereby shall I winne, 
 If he gainsay me? 
 
 What if I beate the wanton boy 
 
 With many a rod? 
 He wil repay me with annoy. 
 
 Because a God. 
 Then sit thou safely on my knee. 
 And let thy bower my bosome be; 
 Lvirke in my eies ; I like of thee : 
 O Cupid, so thou pittie me, 
 
 Spare not but play thee." 
 
Scene III. LITERARY NOTES. 199 
 
 1-2. Cupid have mercy ! Compare with Rosalind's madrigal, 
 quoted above, the picture of Cupid that Lodge paints in his poem 
 " Glaucus and Silla: " — 
 
 "A wreath, of roses hem'd his temples in, 
 His tresse was curlde and cleere as beaten gold ; 
 Haught were liis lookes, and lovely was his skin, 
 Each part as pure as heaven's eternal! mold, 
 
 And on his eies a milke white wreath was spred, 
 "Which longst his backe with prettie pleits did shed. 
 
 Two daintie wings of partie coloured plumes 
 
 Adorne his shoulders dallying with the winde; 
 
 His left hand weelds a torch that ever fumes : 
 
 And in his right his bowe that fancies bind ; 
 
 And on his back his quiver hangs well stored 
 
 With sundrie shaftes that sundrie hearts have gored." 
 
 4-5. Celia's own coaxing way. 
 
 6. reasons. Perhaps, for the pun's sake, spoken raisins, Eliza- 
 bethan pronunciation having more or less the effect of modern Irish. 
 
 11-12. A flash of truth, and then the starting aside into a pecu- 
 liarly terse and vivid utterance of a bit of very ancient wisdom. 
 
 13-15. Celia's gentle answer, accepting the evasion of the meta- 
 phor, has a note of earnest warning for her impetuous cousin. 
 
 16. coat. Short for petticoat. 
 
 18. Hem them away, i.e.. Cough them up. 
 
 19-20. "A proverb? or a game? The pun is bettered by pro- 
 nouncing ha'him. Cf. 'Taming of the Shrew,' V. ii. 181, where 
 ' ha't ' rhymes to ' Kate.' " — J. C. Smith. 
 
 29-30. The most delicious of Rosalind's evasions. Such innocent, 
 arch dignity of filial logic ! 
 
 32. chase. Suggested by what word in the line above ? 
 
 36-39. "The meaning here is either, *Why shouldn't I hate 
 him? doth he not deserve (it) well?' (Rosalind answering the 
 latter words as if the pronoun were omitted, and as if ' deserve ' were 
 used in a good sense) ; or else, ' Why shouldn't I not hate him? doth 
 he not deserve love well ? ' To this view Rosalind has a shade of 
 objection. It would be dangerous for Celia to think too much 
 of loving Orlando for his merits." — Moberly. 
 
200 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act I. 
 
 40. What is Lodge's equivalent ? (p. 23.) 
 
 43. Is Shakespeare more or less severe here than Lodge ? 
 
 45-61. What qualities, intellectual and moral, does Rosalind now 
 display? 
 
 62-63. Compare the bearing of Orlando when his father's honor 
 is touched (I. ii; 227-229). 
 
 66-68. What suggestions here of Celia's womanly tact, and of the 
 Duke's feeling for her? 
 
 69-70. Is this an indignant hardness toward her father's partiality, 
 or clearness of sight to discern hypocrisy? 
 
 71. Apparently indicating that Frederick's usurpation is of years' 
 standing. But cf. I. i. 94-115. 
 
 76. Compare the simple eloquence of Celia's heart-plea with Alin- 
 da's grandiloquent oration (p. 23, where about one-third of it is 
 given). 
 
 77-82. Compare this reply with Torismond's Euphuistic address, 
 and also with his soliloquy (at top of p. 23), Lodge makes the Duke's 
 concern for himself; Shakespeare for Celia. Compare, too, with 
 Oliver's jealous soliloquy (I. i. 155-165). 
 
 85-110. Compare the novel (p. 24). What are Shakespeare's im- 
 provements? What phrases of his here are suggested by Lodge's 
 wording (on pp. 23-24) ?. 
 
 111-114. What is umber? Is this plan carried out? Cf. IV. 
 iii. 88. 
 
 115-136. Compare the novel (pp. 24-25). At what points does 
 Shakespeare deviate? Which princess takes the lead? Does 
 Lodge's Rosalind indulge in playfulness here? In glancing reflec- 
 tions on life ? Scan verse 128 with Celia as a trisyllable, throwing the 
 accent of Aliena on the penult. Why is Touchstone more devoted to 
 Celia than to Rosalind ? 
 
 137. content. "With Rosalind's banishment a natural pause in 
 the action is reached, and the First Act closes. It closes upon the 
 word 'content,' the word which strikes the keynote of the Second 
 Act. ' Content ' is the last word that Orlando utters as he turns his 
 back upon his brother's house. ' Content ' is the burden of the exiled 
 Duke's first speech. The lovers once safe together in Act III., a 
 livelier sentiment begins to prevail." — J. C. Smith. 
 
Scene L LITERARY NOTES. 201 
 
 ACT II. — Scene I. 
 
 The second act lies chiefly, but not entirely, in the forest of Arden. 
 Two brief scenes return us to the " envious court" and the equally 
 envious doors of Oliver. Although the wicked world is left behind, 
 its troubles are not yet outworn. Rosalind's spirits and Touchstone's 
 legs are weary, Celia sinks exhausted, Adam lies down and meas- 
 ures out his grave, Orlando's sword is drawn. The play is but grad- 
 ually changing from the harsh realities of hatred and peril to the 
 "golden world" where youth and beauty are to "fleet the time 
 carelessly," with no ills save the happy " lunacy" of love. In point 
 of action this second movement introduces the Arden groups, philo- 
 sophic and pastoral, and brings first Rosalind, with Celia and Touch- 
 stone, and later Orlando, with Adam, into the greenwood destined, 
 when the noon-hour of the third act shall strike, to witness the re- 
 union of the lovers. 
 
 This opening scene gives us the forest, with oaks and running 
 brooks and dappled deer, a " desert city" humanized by the musing 
 presence of the royal exile and his "three or four loving lords." 
 The philosophy of life " exempt from public haunt," so gravely and 
 richly voiced by the Duke, finds, Shakespeare fashion, a burlesque 
 echo in the "thousand similes" of the melancholy Jaques. There 
 is no suggestion for this scene in Lodge. 
 
 1. co-mates and brothers in exile. A like redundancy occurs 
 in Alinda's comforting speech to Rosalind: "Thou hast with thee, 
 Alinda, a friend, who wil be a faithful copartner of al thy misfor- 
 tunes. . . . We wil be felow mates in povertie." 
 
 2. old custom. Compare I. i. 110-111, and I. iii. 71. 
 
 sweet. Notice the triple occurrence of this word in these first 
 twenty lines. 
 
 3. painted pomp. Study the alliteration so melodiously used 
 throughout the scene. What instances, besides this, of alliterative 
 epithet and noun? 
 
 5-11. See Textual Notes. 
 
 13-14. Shakespeare had authority, such as it was, for his story of 
 the "toad-stone." "The foule Toad has a faire stone in his head." 
 — Lyly's Euphues, 1579. " In this stone is apparently scene verie 
 
202 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act II. 
 
 often the verie forme of a tode, with despotted and coloured feete, 
 but those uglye and confusedly." —Maplett's Gj^een Forest, 1567. 
 " It is most commonly found in the head of a hee toad." — Fenton's 
 Secrete Wonders of Nature, 1569. " You shall knowe whether the 
 Tode-stone be the ryght and perfect stone or not. Holde the stone 
 before a Tode, so that he may see it ; and if it be a ryght and true 
 stone, the Tode will leape towarde it, and make as though he would 
 snatch it. He envieth so much that man should have that stone." 
 — Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, 1586. 
 
 16-17. Does the alliteration here serve any purpose besides that 
 of sweet sound? Compare lines 8 and 59. 
 
 good in everything. Contrast with the discoveries of Jaques. 
 Compare Wordsworth's: — 
 
 " One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teacli you more of man, 
 Of moral evil and of good, 
 Than all the sages can." 
 
 18. See Textual Notes. 
 
 22. poor dappled fools. Compare with the other expressions 
 used in this scene to describe deer. What is the feeling of the Duke 
 and his " First Lord " for them ? What is the feeling of Jaques? 
 
 23. Perhaps suggested by Lodge's phrase, " Citizens of Wood." 
 Compare line 55. 
 
 24. forked heads, i.e., arrows, not horns. 
 
 30. How far has Gray elaborated the picture? 
 
 " There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 
 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by." 
 
 31. " Observe the rare and beautiful vowel-alliteration. Cf. 
 Milton, ' Paradise Lost,' VIII. i. : — 
 
 'The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear.'" 
 
 J. 0. Smith. 
 
 32. What is the peculiar value of the alliteration here ? 
 
 38. tears. Here, again, Shakespeare voices a current error. 
 "The Hart weepeth at his dying: his teares are held to be precious 
 in medicine." — Drayton's Polyolbion. " At last the hart laid him 
 
Scene III. LITERARY NOTES. 203 
 
 doune, and the hounds seized upon him : he groned, and wept, and 
 dyed." — Return from Parnassus. 
 
 57. With a glancing thought, perhaps, of Shakespeare's father, 
 who, from being a man of substance and position, was, in 1592, so 
 dragged down by losses as to hide himself away from his fellow- 
 townsmen, not daring to go to church "for feare of processe for 
 debt." It would seem that Shakespeare had already restored the 
 family fortunes, but the memory of the world's "fashion" toward 
 the "poor and broken bankrupt" might be bitter yet. 
 
 65-66. " Jaques died, we know not how, or when, or where; but 
 he came to life again a century later, and appeared in the world as 
 an English clergyman; we need stand in no doubt as to his character, 
 for we all know him under his later name of Lawrence Sterne. . . . 
 In Arden he wept and moralised over the wounded deer; and at 
 Namport his tears and sentiment gushed forth for the dead donkey." 
 
 — DOWDEN. 
 
 Scene II. ~ 
 
 This brief court-scene, an effective contrast to the foregoing, not 
 only seals the escape of the princesses, but anticipates both the 
 flight of Orlando and the exile of Oliver. Observe (pp. 31-32) how 
 Shakespeare varies from his original. 
 
 2-3. What quality of Frederick's disposition is here displayed ? 
 
 7. untreasur'd. This word is the poetry of the scene. 
 
 8. royuisli, i.e., scurvy, contemptible. 
 
 16. What light does this conjecture throw on the "gentle- 
 woman"? It should be remembered, too, how she acquired her 
 information. 
 
 19. suddenly, i.e., at once. 
 
 20. inquisition. See Grammatical Notes. 
 
 21. runa^vays. Does the "humorous Duke" forget that Rosa- 
 lind is banished on peril of her life? The "First Lord" does not 
 forget. Compare lines 1 and 4. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 This scene is rich in feeling of a simple, plain, religious sort. The 
 quavering, agitated voice of the noble old servant, a happy contrast 
 
204 AS YOU LIKE IT, Act II. 
 
 to Hisperia, almost drowns for our ears the frank and manly utter- 
 ances of Orlando's dismay, despair, and grateful courage. Shake- 
 speare secures the action essential to the dramatic plot, Orlando's 
 enforced departure for Arden, without the needless complexity, 
 violence, and turmoil of Lodge's story (pp. 28-29). Is Adam the 
 same in both versions? In which does Orlando appear to better 
 advantage? 
 
 1. Orlando's startled outcry suggests what situation? 
 
 2. gentle. Note Adam's iteration of this epithet, and compare 
 Lodge's characterization of Rosader (p. 16) as "of a milde and 
 curteous nature." 
 
 3-4. Has Adam referred to Sir Rowland before ? 
 5. On which of the two does Adam's loyalty to Orlando reflect 
 more credit? 
 
 7. fond, i.e., foolish. 
 
 8. prizer, i.e., prize-fighter. 
 
 13. The paradox in terms well emphasizes the strangeness of the 
 fact. 
 
 14-15. " The figure appears to be that of putting on a garment, 
 like the shirt of Nessus, or that sent by Medea to Jason's new 
 wife." — Allen. 
 
 26. Was this an eaves-dropping like Hisperia's? 
 
 27. place, i.e., abiding-place. 
 
 35. Although a hero of romance, Orlando has principles. 
 
 38-55. What qualities of Adam are shown here? 
 
 57-58. " For poetic purposes, at least, Shakespeare adopts the 
 fiction of 'the good old times.' In the ' Sonnets' he again speaks of 
 the ' old age ' as a time of primitive simplicity and truth : — 
 
 ' In Mm those holy antique hours are seen. 
 Without all ornament, itself, and true.' Sonnet Ixviii." 
 
 J. C. Smith. 
 
 63-68. Orlando's tendency to pathos, exhibited before in I., ii., 
 178-187, is saved from weakness by his elastic spirits and youthful 
 energy. 
 
 69-76. This scene is old Adam's, and we may be sure that Or- 
 lando does not grudge him the flourish of the final speech. 
 
Scene IV. LITERARY NOTES. 205 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 After the serious pathos of the foregoing scene, it is delightful to 
 come upon this gallant little group, who flout misfortune with such 
 merry jests that they themselves forget their own calamities. It 
 is true that Celia, less made of air and fire than Rosalind, cannot 
 revive on puns or love-talk, but the prospect of pastoral housekeep- 
 ing brightens her at once. It is all absurd, of course, — these mas- 
 querading, foot-sore princesses making not a single inquiry for the 
 royal exile they have come so far to seek, and buying a sheep-farm 
 offhand out of purses whose emptiness Touchstone has just been 
 deriding, but " this is the forest of Arden." And unlikely as the sit- 
 uation may be, the dialogue convinces. The speakers are as real 
 as fun and fatigue can make them. Compare the unrelieved senti- 
 mentality and stilted rhetoric of Lodge (pp. 25-28). 
 
 1. We will hope that Rosalind indulges in her oaths out of a 
 sense of what is due to " doublet and hose." 
 
 2-3. What is the suggested action ? 
 
 12. A cross stamped the silver coins of Elizabeth. 
 
 15-17. Touchstone's philosophy is in bud already. 
 
 24-28. As Lodge has Montanus put it in the "pleasant eglog" 
 (see p. 26) : — 
 
 " Ah Coridon, though many be thy yeares, 
 And crooked elde hath some experience left, 
 Yet is thy mind of judgement quite bereft, 
 In view of love, whose power in me appeares. 
 
 But 1 (whom nature makes of tender mold, 
 And youth most pliant yeelds to fancies fire) 
 Do build my haven and heaven on sweet desire, 
 On sweet desire more deere to me than gold." 
 
 40. This love-distracted swain is not suffered to remain long on 
 the stage. Touchstone's wicked grimaces of sympathy, too, shield 
 us from too acute a sense of Silvius. 
 
 42-44. Touchstone echoes Rosalind's sigh, and thus makes of 
 it quite a different matter. 
 
206 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act II. 
 
 47. batler. A short, stout staff for beating out the clothes on 
 washing-day. 
 
 48. chopt, i.e., chapped. 
 
 49. peascod. Famed in the annals of English rustic love : — 
 
 " The peascod greene oft with no little toyle 
 Hee'd seeke for in the fattest fertil'st soile, 
 And rend it from the stalke to bring it to her. 
 And in her bosome for acceptance wooe her." 
 
 Browne's Britannia's Pastorals. 
 
 50. Cods. The pods, to be worn as ornaments. 
 
 " He [Richard II.] also used a peascod branch with the cods open, 
 but the peas out, as it is upon his robe in his monument at West- 
 minster." — Camden's Remains, 1614. 
 
 her. Touchstone, "of imagination all compact," as beseems one 
 of Shakespeare's lovers, takes the plant for Jane Smile, just as he 
 had taken the stone for a rival. 
 
 51. weeping tears. So, in all seriousness, says Rosader, in one 
 of the sonnets with which he regaled Aliena and Ganimede under 
 the " figge trees " (p. 34) : — 
 
 " In sorrowes cell I layd me doune to sleepe, 
 But waking woes were jealous of mine eyes, 
 They made them watch, and bend themselves to weepe, 
 But weeping teares their want could not suffice." 
 
 53. mortal in folly, i.e., " mortal foolish." 
 
 54. ware, i.e., aware. 
 
 56. be ware, i.e., beware. 
 
 59. stale. Touchstone has yet to meet his Audrey. 
 
 62. clown. Touchstone betrays his own clownishness. 
 
 64. This exchange flatly disproves Touchstone's subsequent boasts 
 to Corin as to the superiority of court manners, III. ii. 31-42. 
 
 65-66. Note how the gentleness of Rosalind's address transforms 
 the old shepherd's quiet dignity into cordial kindness. 
 
 70-71. Compare Lodge's equivalent expression (p. 26). 
 
 72-73. Could Lord Chesterfield have replied more courteously? 
 
 76-78. The tone of grave and reflective old age, already viewing 
 this world by lights cast from the next. 
 
 79. bounds of feed, i.e., range of pasture. 
 
Scene V. LITERACY NOTES. 207 
 
 90. And we will mend thy wages. If Rosalind has the quick 
 wit and prompt decision, it is Celia who takes thought for the old 
 shepherd's comfort. 
 
 91. waste, i.e., spend. Celia feels better. 
 
 92-96. A sagacious and prudent old shepherd, who would not 
 have these headlong young strangers make a rash bargain. For 
 feeder see Textual Notes. For the conduct of this sudden purchase, 
 compare Lodge's account (pp. 27-28). How is it that Aliena takes 
 the lead in the novel, and Ganymede in the play? 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 A LYRIC interlude which might have been of pure poetic charm, 
 had not Shakespeare chosen to offset the exquisite carol, bird-sweet 
 and human-plaintive as it is, with the harsh mockery of Monsieur 
 Jaques, now first brought upon the stage in person. But it is pleas- 
 ant to see how his egotistic greed for sensations and ill-mannered 
 humor for eccentricity fail to trouble the blithe courtesy of young 
 Lord Amiens. 
 
 18. stanzo. A word new from Italy. 
 
 26. encounter of two dog-apes, i.e., mopping and mowing of 
 two monkeys. 
 
 28. beggarly, i.e., beggarlike. 
 
 30. cover, i.e., set the table. 
 
 46. in despite of my invention. "As imagination would do 
 nothing for me, I spited it by the following choice composition." — 
 
 MOBERLY. 
 
 67. See Textual Notes. 
 
 58. Greek. Jaques as an instructor is misleading. 
 
 60. all the first-born of Egypt. Or anybody else. 
 
 61. banquet. Dessert, for the Duke is to "drink," not dine, 
 under the tree : — 
 
 "We'll dine in the great room, but let the music 
 And banquet be prepared here." 
 
 Massikgeb's Unnatural Combat, III. 1. 
 
208 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act U. 
 
 SCEKE VI. 
 
 Briefly handled, as necessary to the plot, but not of romantic 
 suggestion. Mark the various ways in which Shakespeare has hu- 
 manized Lodge's narrative (pp. 29-30), which borders here on the 
 ridiculous. 
 
 2. Cf.: — 
 
 " And fall upon the ground, as I do now. 
 Taking the measure of an unmade grave." 
 
 Borneo and Juliet, III. iii. 70-71. 
 
 3. Adam is hard upon " the last gasp " of his promise. 
 5. Who is the comforter in the novel ? 
 
 13. thou look'st cheerly. Poor old Adam forces a smile in rec- 
 ognition of what pleasantry on Orlando's part? 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 The second act has already established Rosalind and her party 
 as householders in Arden. It is evidently bound to make, before 
 closing, some equally comfortable provision for Orlando and Adam. 
 Shakespeare does not lay Lodge's stress on good cheer, but he will 
 not have his lovers go hungry to the courtship of the following acts. 
 As a background for Orlando's desperate invasion, which is softened 
 and poetically enriched from Lodge's narrative (pp. 30-31), stands 
 the memorable converse of Jaques and the Duke. The worldly 
 wisdom of the self-complacent cynic, so sternly and yet so quietly 
 rebuked by the Duke, is strangely and suggestively at variance with 
 the forest setting. 
 
 5-7. The clear-eyed Duke has no false estimate of Jaques, but 
 enjoys the intellectual stimulus of his talk. Even cynicism has a 
 humorous charm of its own in Arden. 
 
 9. monsieur. Why is Jaques so addressed by his companions? 
 11. The Duke is surprised. Jaques's usual pose is melancholy. 
 13. " Even at the height of his mirth Jaques remembers to inter- 
 ject a groan." — J. C. Smith. 
 
 15-16. A philosopher of the stamp of Touchstone or Jaques never 
 
Scene VII. LITERARY NOTES. 209 
 
 rails on Lady Fortune in such good set terms as when himself bask- 
 ing in the sun. 
 
 19. " Fortune favors fools " is an old proverb. 
 
 20. poke, i.e., wallet. 
 
 22-28. Touchstone's Arden wit is not commonly of this "lack- 
 lustre " sort. With the keenness of a professional fool, he was adapt- 
 ing himself to his auditor. This mystery of change, so absurdly 
 propounded here, makes the tragic burden of Shakespeare's marvel- 
 lous series of sonnets. Where is the pun? 
 
 30, Cf. : "You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a 
 cock." — Tivo Gentlemen of Verona, II. i., 28. 
 
 32-33. Is there a laughable element in the situation which Jaques 
 does not perceive? 
 
 39. Cf.:— • ' 
 
 " Now and then breaks a dry 'biscuit jest, 
 ■Which, that it may more easily be chewed, 
 He steeps in his own laughter." 
 
 Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour. Prologue. 
 
 40-42. According to Elizabethan physiology, a dry brain " receiv- 
 eth slowly the feeling and printing of things," but " keepeth them 
 long in minde." So Touchstone's retentive brain has odd nooks and 
 corners crammed with the knowledge gained by his experience, 
 an " observation " of life which he vents in queer, disjointed phrases. 
 What is the dramatic irony in Jaques's exclamation: "O that I 
 were a fool ' ' ? 
 
 44. Where is the pun? 
 
 45-52. " Whiter noted that ' suit ' here in Jaques's mind sug- 
 gested ' weed ' ; it did not, perhaps, come within the scope of his 
 special association to note that ' weed ' in turn suggested ' rank 
 growth ' in the next line. And may we not carry on the association 
 and fill out the picture, and see the gaudy blossoms bending in ' the 
 wind ' that ' blows on whom it pleases,' along the summer pathway 
 to the ' Parish Church ' ? " — Furness. 
 
 53-57. The wise man, struck by a fool's glancing satire, would 
 best conceal his smart. If he winces, all men know that he is hit. 
 His vulnerable spot is made manifest. 
 
 58-63. Does Jaques's own view of life qualify him for teaching 
 
210 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 others how to live? He would, in his mocking fashion, bet a 
 "counter" — a metal disk of less value than a penny — that his 
 medicine would purge humanity. The Duke claims that it would 
 be a poison. 
 
 64-69. Jaques has chosen, in his own experience, to know the 
 base and evil side of life, and now he will not believe that there is a 
 better knowledge than his. 
 
 70-71. Jaques dodges the rebuke with a dexterity like that of 
 Falstaff, The Duke has said that the wisdom fetched by Jaques out 
 of his profligate past would prove a foul and mischievous wisdom to 
 the world. Jaques inconsequently retorts, with a triumphant flow 
 of words, that he is not proposing to attack individuals, and so his 
 tongue will do no wrong. 
 
 72. Largely suggestive. 
 
 79-82. "Suppose I say that mean fellows should not be smart, 
 and suppose any such person, the lowest of the low, tells me he does 
 not dress at my expense, he only proves that the cap fits." — Mo- 
 
 BERLY. 
 
 87. Orlando's arrival is perhaps opportune for Jaques. " Still, I 
 would fain put in a good word for the humorist, who, whether from 
 his own fierce though now exhausted passions, or from the world's 
 cold manners and hard treatment, has conceived a disgust for society 
 as it is for the most part to be met with, will never venture deep into 
 its treacherous waters, but is content to skirt the margin, within 
 reach of retirement at any time, and the more crowded company of 
 his own thoughts." — Lloyd. 
 
 88-93. Note that Jaques, 'who could shed tears for the distress of 
 the deer, has only scoffs for that human trouble which the Duke so 
 readily divines. 
 
 96. inland bred. Why should inland breeding imply "smooth 
 civility"? 
 
 98. fruit. Why not meat? See II. v. 61. Compare Lodge (p. 
 30). 
 
 100. I must die. " For leaving off dinner is an absolute impossi- 
 bility (to the great reformer and satirist, who had just now proposed 
 to go to sleep just before it was ready)." — Moberly. 
 
 101-108. How does Orlando's bearing here compare with Rosader's 
 (p. 30-31) ? 
 
Scene VII. LITERARY NOTES. 211 
 
 109-125. Compare these two speeclics verse for verse, noting how 
 to the beauty of Orlando's suggestions, the Duke, in repetition, gives 
 touches of still higher grace. 
 
 126-134. Compare with Lodge (p. 31). Note in II. iii. 39 and 67 
 expressions similar to \^^eak evils (131). 
 
 138. AU the world's a stage. A thought as old as the stage. 
 Shakespeare's theatre, the Globe, bore the motto: Totus mundus 
 agit histrionem. One of his fellow dramatists, Thomas Heywood, 
 has expanded the suggestion in a passage not without spirit and 
 dignity : — 
 
 "The world's a theater, the earth a stage, 
 "Which God and nature doth with actors fill : 
 Kings have their entrance in due equipage. 
 And some their parts play -well, and others ill. 
 The best no better are (in this theater) 
 Where every humor's fitted in his kinde ; 
 This a true subject acts, and that a traytor, 
 The first applauded, and the last confin'd ; 
 This plaies an honest man, and that a knave, 
 A gentle person this, and he a clowne. 
 One man is ragged, and another brave : 
 All men have parts, and each man acts his owne. 
 She a chaste lady acteth all her life; 
 A wanton curtezan another playes ; 
 This covets marriage love, that nuptial strife ; 
 Both in continual action spend their dayes : 
 Some citizens, some soldiers, borne to adventer, 
 Sheepherds and sea-men. Then our play's begun 
 "When we are borne, and to the world first enter, 
 And all find exits when their parts are done. 
 If then the world a theater present. 
 As by the roundnesse it appears most fit, 
 Built with starre galleries of hye ascent, 
 In which Jehove doth as spectator sit. 
 And chiefe determiner to applaud the. best, 
 And their indevours crowne with more than merit; 
 But by their evill actions dooms the rest 
 To end disgrac't, whilst others praise inherit ; 
 He that denyes then theaters should be. 
 He may as well deny a world to me." 
 
 142. seven ages. Shakespeare may have had in mind some pic- 
 ture representing, as certain old woodcuts do, the various ages of man 
 
212 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 typified by appropriate figures on ascending and descending steps. 
 Here the infant, schoolboy, and lover would be mounting, the soldier 
 " now standing on the top of happy hours," and the justice, ancient, 
 and dotard coming down. Note how coolly Jaques puts himself on 
 one side, as a privileged spectator of the play of human life, and 
 with what whimsical contempt he passes in review mewling baby, 
 whining lad, the lover who worships an eyebrow, the soldier who 
 risks life for a bubble, fat judge, piping grandsire, and that ghastly 
 last stage of " second childishness and mere oblivion." But note the 
 masterly hand of the artist, — how graphic the x)ictures, how keen 
 the characterization, how terse the phrasing. Howells has found 
 the title of a novel here, as Thomas Hardy did in Amiens' song in 
 scene v. 
 
 168-169. And herewith we take our leave of Adam, hoping that 
 he and Corin made friends in the forest. Lodge's novel finds further 
 space for him (pp. 38 and 48). 
 
 173-189. Is the song glad or sad ? Compare it with the preceding. 
 
 191. whisper'd. " By the use of this word we are artfully told 
 that the Duke and Orlando had carried on a subdued conversation 
 during the music. How old this practice is, and what vitality it 
 has! " — FuBKESs. 
 
 192-193. Another indication that Orlando is indeed the "memory 
 of old Sir Rowland." 
 
 ACT III.— Scene I. 
 
 The third act is the climax, not only of the dramatic action, in 
 that the lovers meet again, but of mirth and romantic beauty. 
 Rosalind reigns, with Touchstone for her prime minister. Banter 
 abounds. Touchstone matches wit with Corin, and Jaques with 
 Orlando; Rosalind teases her lover, and Celia teases Rosalind; while 
 the criss-cross woes of Phebe and Silvius furnish fresh food for mer- 
 riment. But through all the fun and frolic Rosalind's love burns 
 bright. More than ever she is the star of the stage, dimming both 
 Orlando and Celia. Touchstone and Jaques, in their more distant 
 orbits, suffer less. 
 
 The first scene alone lies beyond the limits of Arden, and is of the 
 briefest, serving simply to assure us that Oliver's sins against Or- 
 lando are, in due dramatic measure, visited upon himself. Compare 
 
Scene II. LITERARY NOTES. 213 
 
 Lodge (pp. 31-32). What marked deviation from his original has 
 Shakespeare made here ? What difference in the sentence ? Where 
 has Shakespeare already made use of Lodge's sentence against Sala- 
 dyne? 
 
 1, since. Since what? 
 
 2. Has Duke Frederick a correct opinion of himself? 
 6, Seek him with candle. What is the allusion? 
 
 15. 3Iore villain thou. Is Duke Frederick a fit person to con- 
 demn unhrotherly conduct? 
 
 16. of such a nature, i.e., of such a kind, — sheriffs. 
 
 17. Make an extent, i.e., appraise and seize. 
 
 18. expediently, i.e., expeditiously. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This scene, the centre of the play, opens with a slightly absurd 
 glimpse of Orlando. His deeds, with one exception, are over. 
 Henceforth, except for the slaying of the lion, he has nothing more 
 important to do than, as at present, carve very indifferent love 
 verses on the Arden trees. The state of his heart has been veiled 
 from us, however, since the second scene of the first act, and it is 
 well to be assured that his passion holds. Then Touchstone emerges 
 from the forest shades, chaffing old Corin. Their wise discussion of 
 the comparative advantages of court and city is silenced by the en- 
 trance of Rosalind. She reads out one of Orlando's poems, at which 
 Touchstone scoffs. The fool is chidden, but Rosalind herself makes 
 a transparent i^retence of deriding another " tedious homily of love," 
 which her cousin has found. At Celia's tantalizing hints of Orlan- 
 do's presence in the forest, Rosalind's impatience exceeds all bounds. 
 Her lively play of feeling and imagination, her sweetness and arch- 
 ness, her reserve and her abandon, show at their best in this swift 
 colloquy. The laughing girls lurk in the green shadows, while 
 Jaques pries in vain into Orlando's love-affairs. Then comes that 
 culmination to which the scene and, indeed, all the first half of the 
 play have been tending, when Rosalind, trusting in her disguise, 
 comes jauntily forth from her concealment, accosts this purblind 
 lover, gains his reluctant ear, wins the confidence denied to Jaques, 
 and begins, by her triumphant device of the make-believe courtship. 
 
214 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 to prepare for that bridal toward which the second half of the play- 
 is to tend. Compare Lodge (pp. 32-34). What suggestions given 
 here by Lodge does Shakespeare catch up and elaborate? It must be 
 admitted that Orlando's verses fall far below the best of Rosader's, as 
 this: — 
 
 "ROSALYNDES DESCRIPTION. 
 
 Like to the cleere In highest spheare 
 "Where all imperiall glorie shines, 
 Of selfe same colour is her haire, 
 Whether unfolded, or in twines : 
 Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde. 
 
 Her eyes are Saphires set in snow, 
 Refining lieaven by evei'y wineke ; 
 The gods do feare when as they glow, 
 And I doo tremble when I thhike : 
 Heigh ho, would she were mine. 
 
 Her chekes are lyke the blushing clowde 
 That bewtifies Auroraes face. 
 Or lyke the silver crimsin shrowde, 
 That Phoebus' smiling lookes doth grace : 
 Heigh ho, faire Rosalynd. 
 
 Her lippes are like two budded roses, 
 Whome ranckes of lillies neighbour nie, 
 Within which bounds she balme incloses, 
 Apt to intice a Deitie : 
 Heigh ho, would she were mine. 
 
 Her necke, like to a stately tower, 
 Where Love liimselfe imprisoned lies. 
 To watch for glaunces every houre, 
 From her devine and sacred eyes: 
 Heigh ho, faire Rosalynd. 
 
 With Orient pearle, with Rubie red, 
 With Marble white, Avith Saphire blew, 
 Her body every way is fed, 
 Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view: 
 
 Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde. 
 Heigh ho, my heart, would God that she were mine!" 
 
Scene II. LITERARY NOTES. 215 
 
 1-10. How many apostrophes break from Orlando in this one 
 speech? On thrice-crowned (2) Johnson says: "Alluding to the 
 triple character of Proserpina, Cynthia, and Diana, given by some 
 mythologists to the same goddess, and comprised in these memorial 
 lines; — 
 
 ' Terret, lustrat, agit ; Proserpina, Lnna, Diana ; 
 Ima, superna, feras ; sceptro, f ulgore, sagittis.' " 
 
 On huntress' name (4) compare Lodge: "Is shee [Rosalind] 
 some Nymph that wayts upon Dianaes traine, whose chastitie thou 
 hast deciphred in such Epethites? " For the carving of love-poems 
 on trees (9-10) there is pastoral example as old as Virgil (see Eclogue 
 X. 53). One of the daintiest instances occurs in Day's drama, "The 
 Parliament of Bees," where the lover described is bee, not man: — 
 
 "On each bough 
 And tender blossom he engraves her name 
 With his sharp sting: to Arethusa's fame 
 He consecrates his actions ; all his worth 
 Is only spent to character her forth. 
 On damask roses and the leaves of pines 
 1 have seen him Avrite such amorous moving lines 
 In Arethusa's praise, as my poor heart 
 Has, when I read them, envied her desert." 
 
 21. " Have you enough philosophy to make you understand the 
 elementary truth that whatever is, isn't? No, replies Corin, I 
 have not yet got further than the doctrine that whatever is, is." — 
 
 MOBEBLY. 
 
 28. complain of good breeding, i. e., of the want of good 
 breeding. 
 
 30. natural, i. e., idiotic, but with a play on the word. 
 
 33. danin'd. Any anachronism here? 
 
 35-36. What does Touchstone mean by this? 
 
 38-42. Where is the flaw in the logic ? 
 
 51. fells. Meaning what? 
 
 64. perpend. See Grammatical Notes. 
 
 69. God make incision in thee. " The expression probably 
 alludes to the common i^roverbial saying, concerning a very silly fel- 
 low, that he ought to be cut for the simples." — Heath. 
 
216 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 71-75 Compare Pope's lines on Solitude: — 
 
 " Happy the man, whose wish and care 
 A few paternal acres bound, 
 Content to breathe his native air 
 
 In his own ground. 
 
 Whose herds with mills, whose fields with bread, 
 Whose -flocks supply him with attire; 
 Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
 In winter fire. 
 
 Blest, who can unconcern'dly find 
 Hours, days, and years, slide soft away 
 In health of body, peace of mind, 
 Quiet by day." 
 
 89. fair. See Grammatical Notes. 
 
 92. rank to market. See Textual Notes. 
 
 105-106. Compare Lodge : " Happily she resembleth the Rose, that 
 is sweete, but full of prickles." 
 
 109. How is it that Rosalind finds the fool dull just here? 
 
 113, medlar. Rosalind plays upon the word, which, in its imme- 
 diate sense, designates a European fruit, something like a flat-topped 
 apple, palatable only when fully ripe. 
 
 116-117. The putter-down of old Corin is himself put down. In 
 vain he casts about under that fool's cap of his for a better pun and a 
 keener retort. 
 
 119. Rosalind orders the parodist out of hearing, but it takes 
 Celia's command (line 154) to fairly get rid of him. 
 
 123. civil. In opposition to desert. 
 
 124-127. See Psalm xxix. 6. 
 
 134-135. Compare Lodge: "She was the paragon of all earthly 
 perfection." 
 
 142. Orlando holds athletics in honor. 
 
 144. of many parts, i.e., Helen's beauty, Cleopatra's queenliness, 
 Atalanta's elasticity of strength, and Lucretia's virtue. 
 
 145. synod. Used by Lodge; " The fates have set down in their 
 synod to make thee unhappy." 
 
 150-152. As a poetic critic Rosalind seems, after all, to be taking 
 
Scene IL LITERARY NOTES. 217 
 
 her cue from Touchstone. No wonder that his gleeful grimace peers 
 forth from the bushes, and calls down on him a fresh dismissal. 
 
 172-173. Pj^thagoras. An early Greek philosopher, supposed to 
 have originated the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, for which 
 see Ovid, "Met." xv. Compare with the. allusion here "Merchant 
 of Venice," IV. i. 131, and "Twelfth Night," IV. ii. 54-62. 
 
 an Irish rat. Sidney, Ben Jonson, and other Elizabethans allude 
 to the popular belief that rats could be rhymed to death. Compare 
 Browning's " Pied Piper " and Ibsen's " Little Eyolf." 
 
 178. Is this Rosalind's first suspicion of the truth ? 
 
 188-189.. out of all hooping. See Textual Notes. 
 
 190. Good my complexion! "In the name of all my good 
 looks!" — MoBERLY. " Rosaliud adjures her blushes not to betray 
 her." — J. C. Smith. Which is the better interpretation? 
 
 192-193. One inch of delay more is to my impatience as great as 
 the width of the South-sea to eager men on a voyage of discovery. 
 
 207-208. Rosalind begs Celia to be serious, — and Rosalind never 
 begs Celia in vain. 
 
 212-213. What is the accompanying action and facial expression ? 
 
 218. Gargantua. The giant of Rabelais (Bk. I. chap, xxxviii.), 
 who swallowed five pilgrims, with their staves, at one gulp. 
 
 225. atomies, i.e., motes. 
 
 229. The oak was sacred to Jupiter. 
 
 246-249. Jaques is disposed to indulge himself in his favorite 
 humor of brusquerie, but Orlando disconcerts him by imitation. 
 
 250. See Textual Notes. 
 
 252-255. Jaques tries a thrust nearer home, but with no better 
 success. 
 
 256-262. Proudly reticent in face of this cynical curiosity, but 
 flashing out at last into a retort far more poetical than his tree- 
 carven verses, Orlando acquits himself well. 
 
 263-265. Goldsmiths' wives, like Jane Shore in Heywood's "Ed- 
 ward IV.," often kept shop for their husbands. It was an Eliza- 
 bethan fashion to inscribe rings with love-mottoes. 
 
 267-268. Compare : — 
 
 "As upon my bed I musing lay. 
 The chamber banged with painted clotb, I found 
 Myself with 'sentences' beleaguered round." 
 
 Taylor's Uncertain Journey, 1653. 
 
218 AS YOU LIKE IT: Act III. 
 
 " Read what is written on the painted cloth : 
 Do no man wrong— Be good unto the poor — 
 Beware the mouse, the maggot, and the moth — 
 And — Ever have an eye upon the door." 
 
 No Whipping nor Tripping, 1601. 
 
 272-273. The best words by which to remember Orlando. 
 
 277-278. Jaques, who is accustomed to liave his society courted, 
 and wlio is himself attracted to Orlando, can explain the young for- 
 ester's indifference to him only on one theory. 
 
 281. How is it that Jaques falls so easily into Orlando's trap? 
 
 28i-287. They part with low ironical bows. 
 
 288-290. Rosalind has recovered her self-possession, which appar- 
 ently forsook her at the sight of Orlando. But the melancholy lover 
 has already turned his back, and she is obliged to call after him. 
 
 291. Very well. Orlando, fresh from his encounter with Jaques, 
 is still on the defensive. 
 
 292. Why does Rosalind ask this? 
 
 294. Compare Lodge: "The Sunne and our stomackes are Shep- 
 heards dials " (p. 34). 
 
 295-297. Compare Lodge ; " For Love measures every minute, and 
 thinkes houres to bee dayes, and dayes to bee monthes, till they 
 feede theyr eyes with the sight of theyr desired object." 
 
 298. Is this the answer Rosalind desired ? 
 
 305. Is the reference here to speed or a rough, disquieting pace? 
 Compare 309-32-3. 
 
 324. The sprightly prattle of the boy has at last won Orlando's 
 interest. 
 
 326. "The simile, suggested by skirts, is thoroughly feminine. 
 Shakespeare's women talk like women. So Imogen says ("Cymbe- 
 line," I. i. 167): — 
 
 ' I would they were in Af ric both together ; 
 Myself by with a needle, that I might prick 
 The goer-back.' " 
 
 J. C. Smith. 
 
 328. cony, i.e., rabbit. 
 
 329. kindled, i.e., littered. 
 
 330-331. Orlando begins to scan the page too closely. Rosalind 
 hastens to divert his thoughts to the magnetic subject of women. 
 
Scene IL LITERARY NOTES, 219 
 
 333. an old religious uncle. Is this a reference to Duke Fred- 
 erick ? 
 
 334. inland. Compare II. vii. 96-97. 
 
 336-337. I thank God I am not a woman. Rosalind delights 
 in thus playing with her secret. Compare 371-373. 
 
 350. fancy-monger, i.e., dealer in love. 
 
 351-352, quotidian, i.e., daily chills and fever, a malady especially 
 apt to befall lovers. 
 
 357. cage of rushes. Here, as in fancy-monger, Rosalind speaks 
 lightly and incredulously of love. Why? 
 
 359-360. a blue eye. The reference is to the livid look beneath 
 the eyes, induced by pain or sorrow. 
 
 unquestionable. See Grammatical Notes. 
 
 362-363. How about Orlando's beard ? And does Rosalind's tongue 
 almost betray her here ? 
 
 367-369. Does Rosalind at heart approve or disapprove of Or- 
 lando's dress? 
 
 370-371. Why should Orlando care to make this forest boy believe 
 in his sincerity ? 
 
 380-381. Is Rosalind still teasing, or does her heart beat hard as 
 she awaits the answer ? 
 
 384-389. This answer throws light, as does Malvolio's experience 
 in *' Twelfth Night," on the Elizabethan treatment of insanity. 
 
 394. moonish, i. e., as full of changes as the moon, 
 
 405-406. The liver was anciently regarded as the seat of the pas- 
 sions, and the pastoral simile is appropriate to the assumed charac- 
 ter of Rosalind. 
 
 407-411. How does Rosalind meet Orlando's refusal? and what is 
 it that induces his sudden, almost violent, consent? Is his oath 
 well chosen in this connection? 
 
 417. It is well to be reminded of Celia, Has Orlando been hith- 
 erto unaware of her presence? Why does he not recognize her as 
 the princess ? Is she in any way an addition to this scene between 
 Rosalind and Orlando ? Could Rosalind have gone through it with- 
 out her ? 
 
220 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act III. 
 
 Scene III. 
 We have seen true love in Arden, — now for its burlesque. 
 Audrey. " Touchstone is not in love, but he will have a mistress 
 as a subject for the exercise of his grotesque humour and to show 
 his contempt for the passion by his indifference about the person." — 
 Hazlitt. 
 
 2. goats. Why not sheep ? 
 
 4. features. Touchstone's langiiage is too lofty for Audrey. 
 6-8. The very bad pun on goats and Goths is emphasized by 
 the word capricious. How ? 
 
 9-10. "For the allusion to the story of Philemon and Baucis, 
 compare "Much Ado About Nothing," II. i. 99." — Rolfe. 
 
 14. a great reckoning in a little room, i. e., a large bill in a 
 small inn. 
 
 16-17. "In 'As You Like It,' Rosalind —lovely, arch, passion- 
 ate, tender Rosalind— is not more real than Audrey — ignorant, 
 humble, delightfully stupid Audrey. Not a word that Rosalind 
 utters, and we think that she is among the most charming of Mrs. 
 Kemble's impersonations, is more cleai-ly impressed on our minds 
 than the ineffable ignorance and stupidity expressed in Audrey's 
 manner of uttering these words." — Akonymous. 
 
 18-21. Touchstone, in his heresy about poetry, has no less distin- 
 guished company than Duke Theseus in "The Midsummer Night's 
 Dream." 
 
 22-23. What is Audrey's feeling for Touchstone ? 
 
 25. honest, i. e., chaste. 
 
 28-29. hard-favor'd, i. e., ugly. 
 
 31. " A fool with matter in him." —Johnson. 
 
 35. Foul, as Touchstone uses it, means dirty, but as poor, puz- 
 zled Audrey repeats the word, her meaning is homely. 
 
 36-37. Audrey has her own touch of pride. She is not a slut. 
 But why does she thank the gods for her lack of beauty? 
 
 41. Sir Oliver Martext. This title was the due of knights, 
 baronets, and bachelors of arts, but there is sad ground for suspecting 
 that this Martext was only a hedge-priest, ungraced by university 
 degree. Is there anything amiss in this talk of the gods and a 
 vicar? 
 
Scene IV. LITEBABT NOTES. 221 
 
 73. AVhen had Jaqiies and Touch.stone met before? 
 
 74. For what purpose has Jaques bared his head ? 
 90. AYith what motive does Jaques interfere? 
 
 100-102. Hedge-parson or not, one likes Sir Oliver for his sturdy 
 determination, even Vv'hile the scrap of ballad so saucily sung by the 
 " fantastical kuave " still echoes in his ears. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 It is, perhaps, the morrow morning, and Orlando is late to his 
 appointment. Fevered with anxiety lest he fail her altogether, Ros- 
 alind, already in tears, fretfully puts by Celia's proffered comfort. 
 As wise as she is gentle, Celia so fashions her answers as to give 
 that impetuous little princess something more tangible than her 
 own doubts to combat. Love dreads only the traitor in the camp. 
 Against Celia's insinuations Rosalind defends Orlando with a spjrit 
 that effectually revives her own drooping courage. But the waiting 
 has been so intolerable that she catches eagerly at Corin's proposed 
 diversion. 
 
 2-3. A half-smile glints through Rosalind's tears at this. 
 7-8. " Hair of the colour of gold denotes a treacherous person, 
 having a good understanding, but mischievous; red hair, enclining 
 to black, signifies a deceitful and malicious person." — Saunders, 
 Physiognomie and Chiromancie, 1G71. 
 
 8. Judas was commonly represented in mediaeval paintings and 
 tapestries as red-haired, either as a symbol of treachery or merely 
 bscause red hair, until Queen Elizabeth glorified it, was counted 
 ugly. 
 
 IG. cast. Probably cast off. It is not a reverential suggestion, 
 but Celia is teasing. 
 
 19-20. Celia's ironical and extreme agreements exhaust Rosa- 
 lind's defences, and throw her back on her original complaint. 
 
 25. "A goblet with its cover on is a better emblem of hollowness 
 than with it off." — Deighton. 
 
 34-38. Rosalind's unfilial expressions here are not to be taken 
 seriously. She cannot cut short this delightful masquerade by re- 
 vealing herself just yet. Why did the Duke inquire about her par- 
 entage? Compare Lodge (p. 45). 
 
222 AS YOU LJKE IT. Act III. 
 
 41. traverse, "like an unskilful tilter, who breaks his staff 
 across instead of striking it full against his adversary's shield and 
 so splitting it lengthwise." — Wright. 
 
 46-58. This strand of Silvius and Phebe and her perverse pas- 
 sion for the disguised princess is woven by Shakespeare into his plot 
 earlier than by Lodge. Compare the novel (p. 40), and note especially 
 the brilliant costume and elegant language of the shepherdess. 
 
 Scene V. 
 Shakespeare makes less of Phebe than does Lodge. Compare the 
 novel (pp. 40-42). The law of dramatic proportion obliges the play- 
 wright to subordinate this entire episode. It lies midway between 
 the romantic love-plots and their burlesque. Shakespeare rids him- 
 self in part of the pastoral conventionality and sentimentality so 
 cloying in the novel, but not wholly. His shepherd and shepherdess 
 are poetic rather than actual. How far has Shakespeare borrowed 
 characterization, situation, and plot from his predecessor? 
 
 1-3. Compare Lodge : — 
 
 " Phoebe sate, 
 Sweet she sate. 
 
 Sweet sate Phcebe -when I saw her, 
 White her brow, 
 Coy her eye, 
 
 Brow and eye, how much you please me! 
 Words I spent, 
 Sigbes I sent ; 
 
 Sigbes and words could never draw hir. 
 Ob my love. 
 Thou art lost. 
 
 Since no sight could ever ease thee." 
 
 3-7. Elizabethan chronicles and dramas give many examples of 
 this. 
 
 8. "This hysteron prote7^on is by no means uncommon: its 
 meaning is, of course, the same as live and die, i.e., subsist from 
 the cradle to the grave." — Arrowsmith. 
 
 9-19. Phebe's vigorous common-sense attests her inexperience 
 in love. 
 
Scene V. LITERARY NOTES. 223 
 
 22. See Textual Notes. 
 
 23. capable impressure, i.e., perceptible mark. 
 27-31. An instance of dramatic anticipation. 
 
 31-35. Cupid takes up the challenge. The entrance of Rosalind 
 in doublet and hose, close on this rash asseveration, makes a dramatic 
 situation. 
 
 38-39. Dramatic justice. The disdainful is requited with dis- 
 dain. 
 
 41. Why, indeed? 
 
 43. sale-'work, i.e., ordinary, ready-made shop-ware. 
 
 Rosalind, gleeful in this new development, is reminded of her dis- 
 guise, and lets loose another of her masquerading oaths. 
 
 46-47. "In the old age black was not counted iaXx." — Sonnet 
 cxxvii. Queen Elizabeth's auburn locks set the fashion for beauty 
 of the blond type, rather than the brunette, bugle, i.e., black like 
 beads. 
 
 64-65. This new tone in Rosalind, sharp though the scolding 
 sounds, is music in the ears of Phebe, who, but a few minutes since, 
 loved only her own song : — 
 
 "Downe a downe. 
 Thus Phyllis sung 
 By fancie once distressed : 
 Who so by foolish love are stung, 
 Are worthily oppressed. 
 And so sing I, Avith downe, a downe, a downe a." 
 
 Lodge. 
 
 73-74. To whom, Silvius or Phebe, does Rosalind give this direc- 
 tion to her house, and why? 
 
 80 81. See Introduction, p. 4. 
 
 84. Why this change in Phebe's manner toward Silvius? 
 
 98-103. This is the tone of Lodge's willing martyr, Montanus. 
 107. carlot, i.e., carle or churl. Does this term accord with what 
 we have heard of this landowner already? 
 
 109-118. "Shakespeare contrives to give at once an exquisite de- 
 scription of Rosalind's person and of the state of Phoebe's heart, 
 vacillating as it is between passion and pride. Her resentment is 
 not all assumed, for some of Rosalind's taunts have gone home." — 
 J. C. Smith. 
 
224 AS YOU LIKE IT, Act IV. 
 
 119-122. Compare Lodge (p. 18). 
 
 135. Does Silvias suspect the double-dealing? Compare Lodge 
 (p. 42). 
 
 ACT IV. -Scene I. 
 
 The function of this brief fourth act is to lead from the dramatic 
 climax, the meeting — although Orlando's eyes are holden — of the 
 severed lovers, to Rosalind's revelation of herself, and their happy- 
 bridal, attended by three Arden bridals more. Thus we have a 
 representative scene of the mock courtship, culminating in mock 
 marriage, a forest interlude, continued development of the pastoral 
 sub-plot, and the advent, none too soon, of Celia's destined bride- 
 groom, the banished and penitent Oliver. 
 
 The first scene opens with a vivid contrast between the life-jaded 
 cynic and the fresh youth of Eosalind. Orlando, again late to his 
 appointment, is, by way of punishment, ignored at first by the high- 
 spirited little lady in doublet and hose, who relents only to give him 
 a stormy session, assailing men in general and Orlando in particular 
 with her liveliest raillery, and finally turning her wayward wit on 
 her own sex. There are intervening moments of coaxing sweetness 
 and involuntary tenderness, and, when Orlando is fairly out of sight, 
 Rosalind eases her over-flowing heart by flinging herself on the neck 
 of the long-suffering Celia, who is really becoming bored. It is high 
 time that Oliver arrive. Compare Lodge (pp. 34-35). 
 
 1-2. Jaques is an investigator of life, and every human speci- 
 men arouses his curiosity. 
 
 3. Rosalind apparently edges away. Her consciousness of her 
 disguise renders her uneasy under scrutiny. 
 
 5-7. Here, as with Phebe, Rosalind has something more than 
 the courage of her convictions. 
 
 10-19. " Jaques does not meet Rosalind's criticism any more 
 than he met the Duke's (II. vii., 70), but by way of answer en- 
 larges fondly on his own pet affectation. This passage is decisive as 
 to the nature of his malady." — J. C. Smith. 
 24. In what tone does Jaques say this? 
 
 29-30. Perhaps Jaques remembers his recent encounter with 
 Orlando. 
 
Scene I. LITERARY NOTES. 225 
 
 31-36. Apparently Rosalind laughingly calls these words after 
 Jaques, who does not deign to answer them, as he withdraws. 
 
 50. Orlando's puzzled interrogations, in his colloquy with Rosa- 
 lind, call up an irresistible reminder of Audrey with Touchstone. If 
 we arc to keep our respect for Orlando's five wits, we must suppose 
 either that he is taking these interviews with the shepherd-boy in a 
 mood of idle amusement, or that the glamour of the actvial Rosalind, 
 concealed in Ganymede, steals upon and bewilders his senses. 
 54. you. See Textual Notes. 
 64. leer. See Grammatical Notes. 
 69. Does he ? 
 
 86-87. In what tone does Orlando say this? 
 
 91-104. What additions does Rosalind make here to Greek 
 legend, and why ? 
 
 107. " Everything about Rosalind breathes of ' youth and youth's 
 sweet prime.' She is fresh as the morning, sweet as the dew-awak- 
 ened blossoms, and light as the breeze that plays among them. . . . 
 Her volubility is like the bird's song; it is the outpouring of a heart 
 filled to overflowing with life, love, and joy, and all sweet and 
 affectionate impulses. She has as much tenderness as mirth, and in 
 her most petulant raillery there is a touch of softness." — Mrs. 
 JAMESO^^ 
 
 119-121. Who proposes the mock marriage in the novel, and at 
 what stage of the acquaintance does it take place? Why has Shake- 
 speare deviated in these particulars from Lodge ? 
 
 123. Why does Celia hold back ? Is her excuse proved untrue? 
 
 128. What has Rosalind in thought here ? 
 
 134. " I could never speak these words without a trembling of the 
 voice, and the involuntary rushing of happy tears to the eyes, which 
 made it necessary for me to turn my head away from Orlando. But, 
 for fear of discovery, this momentary emotion had to be overcome 
 and turned off by carrying his thoughts into a different channel." — 
 Lady Martin. 
 
 134-135. She has spoken the words without waiting for Celia, 
 who, as priest, should have uttered them first. 
 
 135-136. Is there any double meaning here? 
 
 142-144. Compare Lodge: " I see well bote love is soone cold, and 
 that the fancy of men is like to a loose feather that wandreth in the 
 
226 AS YOU LIKE IT, Act IV. 
 
 ayre with the blast of every wynd. . . . Men in their fancy resemble 
 the waspe, which scornes that flower from which she hath fetcht her 
 waxe ; playing lyke the inhabitants of the Hand Tenerifa, who when 
 they have gathered the sweet spices, use the trees for fuell : so men 
 when they have glutted themselves with the faire of women faces, 
 holde them for necessary evils." 
 
 152. In what tone does Orlando ask this ? 
 
 164-165. The occasion of finding fault with her husband. 
 
 167-177. Rosalind's love leaps up through her masquerading, but 
 Orlando is none the wiser, and in a moment her tongue is off again 
 on a strain of exaggerated despair, but with genuine disappointment 
 still manifest. 
 
 179-181. Compare " 1 Henry IV." III. i. 253-255. 
 ■ 189-190. 
 
 " And that old common arbitrator, Time, 
 Will one day end it." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida, IV. v. 225-226. 
 
 191-194. Compare Lodge (p. 25). 
 195-196. Is Rosalind's answer relevant? 
 206. shadow, i.e., a shady place. 
 
 208. Any one who has ever done duty as chaperon will sympa- 
 thize with Celia. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Trifling as this scene Is in the reading, it can be made extremely 
 effective on the stage. The forest background, and the green-clad 
 foresters, trolling their lusty chorus, appeal to a primitive gladness 
 in the blood. 
 
 1. "On the occasion of the first representation of ' As You Like 
 It' in the Memorial Theatre, April 30th, 1879, a fallow deer was 
 carried on the stage by foresters, which had been that morning shot 
 by H. S. Lucy, Esq., of Charlecote Park, out of the herd descended 
 from that upon which Shakespeare is credited with having made a 
 raid in his youth." — Flower (Memorial Theatre Edition). 
 
 3-6. Jaques' suggestion, like his later remark about the song, is 
 tinged with his habitual irony. 
 
 10-11. Compare Lodge: "What newes, forrester? hast thou 
 
Scene III. LITERARY NOTES. 227 
 
 wounded some Deere, and lost him in the fall? Care not, man, for 
 so small a losse, thy fees was but the skinue, the shoulder, and the 
 horns." 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 The first part of this scene continues the pastoral sub-plot. Com- 
 pare Lodge (p. 42). In what important respects does the dramatist 
 deviate from his original here, and why? The second half of the 
 scene, while still emphasizing the love of Rosalind for Orlando, 
 brings Oliver, at last, into the presence of Celia. The restoration of 
 harmony between the brothers is effected. Compare Lodge (pp. 35- 
 39). In Shakespeare's condensation here, what are we sorry to lose? 
 
 3-5. Celia has had good instruction in the art of teasing. 
 8-12. Is this in accordance with the novel? 
 
 13-14. Why does Rosalind dissemble here? 
 
 17. phoenix. "That there is but one Phoenix in the World, 
 which after many hundred years burneth it self, and from the ashes 
 thereof ariseth up another, is a conceit not new or altogether popu- 
 lar, but of great Antiquity." — Brown's Vulgar En^oi^s. 
 
 'Od's my will! "Are not all these oaths, in which Rosalind in- 
 dulges with marked freedom, her attempts to assume a swashing and 
 a martial outside ? Before she donned doublet and hose she uttered 
 none. ' Faith * was then her strongest affirmation." — Furness. 
 
 22. "The metre of this line is imperfect, and the sense of the 
 whole ; for why should Rosalind dwell so much upon Phebe's hands 
 unless Silvius had said something about them ? I have no doubt but 
 the line originally ran thus : — 
 
 * Phoebe did write it unth her oivn fair hand.' 
 
 And then Rosalind's reply will naturally follow." — Mason. Is it 
 true that the metre is imperfect ? 
 
 22-29. Why does Rosalind abuse Phebe to Silvius ? 
 
 35-36. Meaning what ? 
 
 49. What, in fact, did poor Phebe mean ? 
 
 04. What is the tone of Silvius? 
 
 65-67. Note the contrast in the cousins. 
 
 08. How has Phebe played false strains on Silvius? 
 
228 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V. 
 
 78-82. Why does the quiet Celia take it upon herself to answer? 
 
 87. See Textual Notes. 
 
 90. What trait of Celia is here manifest? 
 
 94:. What is Rosalind's tone? 
 
 100, Compare Lodge; " pacing downe by the grove." 
 
 101. Compare Lodge; "a bitter pleasure wrapt in a sweet preju- 
 dice." 
 
 117-118. Compare Lodge ; " Lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses." 
 
 119-120. Apparently Oliver's voice breaks here with stress of feel- 
 ing. The law of dramatic proportion, which led Shakespeare to 
 make so little —.perhaps too little - of the romance between Celia 
 and Oliver, apparently influenced the dramatist at this point to con- 
 dense this stirring adventure into a vivid, brief recital. Moreover, 
 there may not have been any " suck'd and hungry lioness " or "green 
 and gilded snake " among the stage properties, 
 
 121-123. These words suggest much fuller intercourse among the 
 three young exiles than has been actually represented. 
 
 125-126. Rosalind, naturally, is all impatience to hear of her lov- 
 er's prowess and peril. 
 
 128-129. Note how much of Lodge's narrative is condensed into 
 these two great lines. 
 
 131. What is Celia's thought, and what is Rosalind's ? 
 
 135-137. Is Oliver, perhaps, taking conversion too easily? 
 
 138. Oliver's soul matters less to Rosalind than those drops of 
 Orlando's blood which, she suspects already, dye the handkerchief. 
 
 159, Celia almost lets the secret slip, but recovers herself. 
 
 171. How is this spoken? 
 
 174-175, Even in her exhaustion, Rosalind cannot resist playing 
 with the truth. 
 
 176-177. Celia's new interest in Oliver by no means banishes her 
 habitual solicitude for Rosalind. 
 
 179. Does Oliver penetrate the disguise? 
 
 ACT V. - Scene I. 
 
 The culminating act must clear the way for the four bridals, and 
 accomplish them with due scenic effect, and must, moreover, right 
 the wrongs of the exiled Duke. The reconciliation in case of the 
 
Scene II. LITER ART SOTES. 229 
 
 lesser pair of brothers, Oliver and Orlando, took place in the fourth 
 act as prelude to the greater harmony yet to be wrought. The ob- 
 stacles in the way of the weddings are no longer serious. Touch- 
 stone's hindrances, with Sir Oliver Martext and the rival suitor, are 
 not beyond the reaches of his wit ; Celia's love is a cloak covering the 
 multitude of Oliver's sins; and the bridal fortunes of Silvius and 
 Pliebe, Orlando and herself, are held firm in Rosalind's own hands. 
 Shakespeare, unlike Jaques, has apparently no great taste for "con- 
 vertites," and we are not suffered to see Duke Frederick with the 
 black rubbed off. The wedding dance closes the sweet holiday life 
 of Arden, whose last distinct figure is Rosalind, making " curtsy " of 
 farewell. 
 
 This brief opening scene takes up again the comedy thread. Touch- 
 stone and Audrey have been missed from the fourth act, but are 
 called in here to furnish a little sheer fun between two of the roman- 
 tic scenes that draw of necessity nearer and nearer to the serious 
 realities of love. 
 
 4. How old is Jaques? 
 
 13-14. What is the demeanor of the rustics to each other? 
 
 16-28. What is Touchstone's bearing toward his rival ? 
 
 29. Compare William's opinion of his wit with what Touchstone 
 has just said (10-12) regarding his own. 
 
 31-32. Spoken with a glance at his motley. 
 
 32-35. Compare Lodge: " PhcEbe is no lettice for your lips, and 
 her grapes hang so high, that gaze at them you may, but touch them 
 you cannot." 
 
 40-44. Meaning what? 
 
 47-57. What is Touchstone's change of- tone? 
 
 58. In what spirit does Audrey say this? 
 
 59. How spoken ? 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Into this scene Shakespeare packs much of the novel, although he 
 ignores much more. Lodge (pp. 38-41) gives Saladyiie a chance to 
 play the hero, and so in part redeem his damaged reputation ; dwells 
 upon tlie growth of Aliena's love, and Rosalind's mirth thereat: and 
 has Saladyne duly propose to the lady, who, it must be confessed, 
 
230 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V. 
 
 rather invites the declaration. Lodge depicts an absurd situation by 
 Plioebe's bedside (pp. 42-43), and furnishes Shakespeare (pp. 43-44) 
 with suggestions that were very directly worked into the present 
 dialogue. The dramatist, holding to a stricter symmetry, could not 
 be cumbered with all the material of the novel. In his selection, he 
 had a single eye to Rosalind as the centre of interest. Shakespeare 
 takes advantage of Celia's disposition. He knows she will be content 
 with the crumbs. 
 
 1-3. Which of the four, and which alone, seems impossible? 
 
 6. the poverty of her. Oliver supposes Aliena the simple 
 shepherdess she appears. It is a pity he should not be at least more 
 intelligent than his brother. 
 
 7-8. "Romance is all very well in the Forest of Arden, but 
 Oliver is made too bad in the first scenes ever to be worthy of Celia, 
 or capable of inspiring a kindly interest in his reformation. Celia 
 . . . should at least have put his repentance on a twelvemonths' 
 trial. But in the Fifth Act ladies have no time for discretion." — 
 Hartley Coleridge. 
 
 8-9. Why should Oliver ask his younger brother's consent? 
 10-12. Is there any irregularity in this magnanimous grant ? 
 
 17. brother, i. e., brother-in-law elect. 
 
 18. sister, i. e., make-believe sister-in-law elect. 
 
 20. Does Rosalind say " heart " on purpose or by accident? 
 26-27. What is Rosalind's underlying thought ? 
 
 28. To what does Orlando allude ? 
 
 29. To what does Rosalind take it that he alludes? 
 31. thrasonical, i. e., vain-glorious. 
 
 32-39. Shakespeare, in a way, puts the criticism of his hasty 
 treatment of this episode into Rosalind's mouth. 
 
 41-43. Another of Orlando's few memorable sayings. This 
 strikes deep. 
 
 49-50, Orlando's genuine dejection appeals irresistibly to Rosa- 
 lind's tenderness. 
 
 56-57. Why does she still veil her secret? 
 
 57-65. Compare Lodge (p. 44). 
 
 67-68, The history of witchcraft forms a dark comment on these 
 words. 
 
Scene IV. LITERARY NOTES. 231 
 
 105-lOG. Compare Lodge (p. 42). 
 
 107-123. All this grouping and echoing are effective and pictur- 
 esque enough, but with a lively dash of grotesquery, emphasized in 
 Rosalind's undignified comparison, that removes the situation in 
 pleasant and wholesome sort from the continuous sentimentality of 
 Lodge's pastoral strain. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Another musical interlude, but, as hitherto, with a mocker in the 
 foreground. 
 
 1-5. The second scene has assured us that the three more ro- 
 mantic bridals are well under way, but Touchstone will not have us 
 forget the course of his lowly fortunes. 
 
 10-12. A satire of lasting point. 
 
 33-34. there was no great matter in the ditty. A very just 
 criticism. The Elizabethan lyric, like a bird-carol, springs from and 
 imparts a feeling rather than a thought. 
 
 34-35. "Was this the expected conclusion? 
 
 38-40. Which is more gracious as a musical critic, Touchstone or 
 Jaques ? 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 This culminating scene, although it provides the due dramatic 
 denouement, is in some respects a disappointment. (See Introduc- 
 tion, pp. 48-49.) For once we are inclined to cry to Touchstone, in 
 echo of Rosalind: " Peace, you dull fool! " Compare Lodge (pp. 44- 
 48). What are Shakespeare's variations? How far are these 
 changes for the better? 
 4. See Textual Notes. 
 
 26-29. Preparatory to the revelation now close at hand. 
 
 32. desperate. Meaning what? 
 
 34. Observe the appeal to the imagination in this finely poetic 
 verse. 
 
 44. purgation. Touchstone, wishing to rise to the occasion, is 
 using words too large for him. 
 
 54-61. How many sirs? 
 
 64. " A fool's bolt is soon shot." 
 
 65. dulcet diseases. Words chosen for sound, not sense. Touch- 
 
232 AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V. 
 
 stone would consider the efforts of the commentators to interpret 
 this airy phrase of his a better joke than Audrey. 
 
 69. What is the effect of this grand company upon poor Audrey? 
 86. The swords were measured to make sure they were of equal 
 length. 
 
 90. There were various current treatises on fencing, chiefly Ital- 
 ian, and many books of etiquette. It hardly marks an advance in 
 our own manners that we smuggle our guides to social behavior into 
 corners of our bureau drawers instead of holding them in Elizabethan 
 esteem, and squaring conduct by them openly. 
 
 96-101. A hint caught up by Sheridan and often used effectively, 
 notably in " The Rivals." 
 
 102-103. Why does Jaques so delight in Touchstone? 
 
 104-105. "The Stalking Horse, originally, was a horse trained for 
 the purpose and covered with trappings, so as to conceal the sports- 
 man from the game he intended to shoot at. It was particularly use- 
 ful to the archer, by affording him an opportunity of approaching the 
 birds unseen by them, so near that his arrows might easily reach 
 them ; but a§ this method was frequently inconvenient, and often im- 
 practicable, the fowler had recourse to art, and caused a canvas fig- 
 ure to be stuffed, and painted like a horse grazing, but sufficiently 
 light, that it might be moved at pleasure with one hand." — Strutt's 
 Sports and Pastimes. 
 
 Enter Hymen. " On the other hand, entered Hymen, the god of 
 marriage, in a saffron coloured robe, his under vestures white, his 
 socks yellow, a yellow veile of silke on his left arm, his head crowned 
 with roses and marjoram, in his right hand a torch of pine-tree." 
 — Ben Jonson's Hymenaei. 
 
 117. sight. See Textual Notes. 
 
 122. And with these words, Rosalind falls silent. Through the 
 remainder of the scene she is seen and felt, but heard no longer. 
 
 123-144. Plardly a Christian ceremony, — and with a vicar in the 
 next village, too, and a monastery on the forest skirts. 
 
 145-146. Adam is forgotten, but not Celia. She has found a father 
 at last. 
 
 147-148. A very reasonable shepherdess. 
 
 153. Touchstone bows. 
 
 164-169. The Duke's philosophic calm remains unshaken. 
 
Scene IV. LITERARY NOTES. 233 
 
 171. shrewd. Meaning what? 
 
 174-177. "The picture is not painted in the same high key of col- 
 our as ' Much Ado.' Instead of the hot sun of Beatrice's and Bene- 
 dict's sharp wit-combats, with its golden reds and yellows, backed by 
 the dark clouds of Hero's terrible distress, we have a picture of greys 
 and greens and blues lit through a soft haze of silvery light. Rosa- 
 lind's rippling laugh comes to us from the far-off forest glades, and 
 the wedded couples' sweet content reaches us as a strain of distant 
 melody." — Furnivall. 
 
 178-183. Hudson says of Jaques : "We cannot justly affirm, in- 
 deed, that ' the soft blue sky did never melt into his heart,' as Words- 
 worth says of his Peter Bell ; but he shows more of resistance than 
 all the other persons to the poetries and eloquences of the place. 
 Tears are a great luxury to him ; he sips the cup of woe with all the 
 gust of an epicure. Still, his temper is by no means sour; fond 
 of solitude, he is, nevertheless, far from being unsocial. The society 
 of good men, provided they be in adversity, has great charms for 
 him." 
 
 184-191. The instincts of the gentleman show in Jaques at parting. 
 His congratulatory compliments are admirably put, although his ig- 
 noring of the brides is conspicuous. Touchstone expects, deserves, 
 and desires nothing better than a jest. 
 
 192. Poor Duke! He has gained his kingdom, but lost his cynic. 
 Frederick has Arden and Jaques for compensation. 
 
 193-194. Not discourteous, even in refusal. 
 
 195-196. Picture the scene. 
 
 Epilogue. An immediate fall in tone. This is hardly the Rosa- 
 lind of the play. 
 
 1-2. And did not become the fashion until Restoration times. 
 3-4. Compare: — 
 
 "Green ivy-bushes at the vintners' doors." 
 
 Nash's Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600. 
 
 16. In Shakespeare's day the roles of women were always taken 
 by boys. 
 
 21. farewell. " Shakspere, when he wrote this idyllic play, was 
 himself in his Forest of Arden, He had ended one great ambi- 
 
234 AS YOU LTKE IT, Act V. 
 
 tion, — the historical plays, —and not yet commenced his tragedies. 
 It was a resting-place. He sends his imagination into the woods to 
 find repose. Instead of the court and camps of England and the em- 
 battled plains of France, here was this woodland scene where the 
 palm tree, the lioness, and the serpent are to be found ; possessed of 
 a flora and fauna that flourish in spite of physical geographers. 
 There is an open-air feeling throughout the play. . . . After the 
 trumpet tones of 'Henry V.' comes the sweet pastoral strain, so 
 bright, so tender. Must it not be all in keeping? Shakspere was 
 not trying to control his melancholy. When he needed to do that, 
 Shakspere confronted his melancholy very passionately, and looked 
 it full in the face. Here he needed refreshment, a sunlight tem- 
 pei-ed by forest-boughs, a breeze upon his forehead, a stream mur- 
 murinsf in his ears." — Dowden. 
 
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