SCENE IV.
The forest of Arden.
Enter Rosalind in boy's cloaths for Ganimed; Celia drest like a shepherdess for Aliena, and Touchstone the Clown.
Ros.
O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits2 note!
Clo.
I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not
weary.
Ros.
I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's
apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort
the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show
itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage,
good Aliena.
Cel.
I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further.
Clo.
For my part, I had rather bear with you, than
bear you3 note
: 4 noteyet I should bear no cross, if I did bear
you; for, I think you have no money in your purse.
Ros.
Well, this is the forest of Arden.
-- 297 --
Clo.
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.
Ros.
Ay, be so, good Touchstone:—Look you,
who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn
talk.
Enter Corin and Silvius,
Cor.
That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Sil.
O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
Cor.
I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil.
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?
Cor.
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil.
O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly4 note
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying 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,
-- 298 --
Thou hast not lov'd:—Oh Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit Silvius.
Ros.
Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Clo.
And I mine: I remember, when I was in love,
I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that
for coming o'nights to Jane Smile: and I remember
the kissing of her batlet6 note, and the cow's dugs that
her pretty chop'd hands had milk'd: and I remember
the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom
I took two7 note
cods, and, giving her them again, said
with weeping tears8 note, 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 folly9 note.
-- 299 --
Ros.
Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
Clo.
Nay, I shall ne'er be aware of mine own wit,
'till I break my shins against it.
Ros.
Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much
upon my fashion.
Clo.
And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
Cel.
I pray you, one of you question yon man,
If he for gold will give us any food;
I faint almost to death.
Clo.
Holla; you, clown!
Ros.
Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor.
Who calls?
Clo.
Your betters, sir.
Cor.
Else they are very wretched.
Ros.
Peace, I say:—Good even to you, friend.
Cor.
And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Ros.
I pr'ythee, 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,
And faints for succour.
Cor.
Fair sir, I pity her,
And wish for her sake, more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer 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 sheep-cote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
-- 300 --
And in my voice most welcome shall you be1 note.
Ros.
What is he, that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Cor.
That young swain, that you saw here but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing.
Ros.
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.
Cel.
And we will mend thy wages: I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor.
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.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
