Charles Johnson [1723], Love in a Forest. A comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane, By His Majesty's Servants... By Mr. Johnson (Printed for W. Chetwood... and Tho. Edlin [etc.], London) [word count] [S37000].
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Love in a Forest.
note
Introductory matter
TO THE Worshipful Society OF FREE-MASONS.
Permit me, my Brethren, most
humbly to beg your Protection for
the following Scenes.
Since to flatter you, and not to
speak Truth wou'd, on this Occasion, be equally
impertinent; give me Leave only to say: If
encouraging and being instructed in useful Arts,
if Humanity, Charity, Humility, in a Word,
if all these social Virtues which raise and improve
the Mind of Man are Praise-worthy,
-- vi --
your Society have a Right to demand the Applause
of Mankind.
You have taught all Nations one Idiom,
which, at the same Time that it gives a mutual
Understanding, inspires a mutual Benevolence,
removes every Prejudice of a distant
Sun and Soil, and no Man can be a Foreigner
who is a Brother.
If it were not below the Dignity of the
Brotherhood to boast what the Vulgar call Honours
and Distinctions, you cou'd give a List
of Royal Names, not only the first in Britain,
but in Europe, have been proud to wear the
Badge of your Order, and who have held themselves
distinguished even amidst the Glories
that surrounded them, by having the Honour
to call the Members of your Society Brethren;
and it was owing only to the Unhappiness of
her Sex that a most Illustrious Princess of our
own cou'd not be admitted, and if her Curiosity
was piqued at not knowing a Secret, perhaps
it was the only Point in her whole Reign
that ever the Woman got the better of the
Queen.
It must be own'd your Society hath Enemies,
as the wisest, the greatest, and most
virtuous Communities have ever had, and
-- vii --
must have, for Ignorance is the Mother of
Malice as well as of Devotion, and if malevolent
and wrong-headed People will revile what
they confess they do not understand, their Ill-nature
recoils and hurts only their own Breasts:
This, my Brethren, we have to say, and let
us speak it boldly tho' not vainly, tho' there
hath yet been no other Sanction invented by the
Wit of Man, the Wisdom of Law-givers, or
the Policy of Princes, but what hath been frequently
and openly broke into, yet our very
Enemies, who have the least Candor, confess the
Secrets of the Masonary have been kept inviolable,
and that too, during the Course of many
Ages, among People of all Distinctions,
Religions, and Nations in the known World.
I am, my Brethren,
With the greatest Respect and Duty,
Your most Obedient and devoted
Brother and Servant,
Charles Johnson.
-- --
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
| Frederick, the usurping Duke, | Mr. Williams. |
| Alberto, the banish'd Duke, | Mr. Booth. |
| Jaques, Friend to Alberto, | Mr. Cibber. |
| Amiens, Friend to Alberto, | Mr. Cory. |
| Oliver, one of three Brothers, | Mr. Thurmond. |
| Orlando, one of three Brothers, | Mr. Wilks. |
| Roberto, one of three Brothers, | Mr. Roberts. |
| Adam, an old Servant to Orlando, | Mr. Mills. |
Le-Beu [Le Beau], | Mr. Theo. Cibber. |
| Charles, Master of the Duke's Academy, | Mr. W. Mills. |
WOMEN.
| Rosalind, | Mrs. Booth. |
Cælia [Celia], | Mrs. Thurmond. |
| Hymen, | Miss Linder. |
In the Mock-Play.
| Pyramus, | Mr. Penkethman. |
| Thisby, | Mrs. Miller. |
| Wall, | Mr. Norris. |
| Lion, | Mr. Wilson. |
| Moonshine, | Mr. Ray. |
Lords, Foresters, Gentlemen, Guards, Singers and Dancers.
[Quince], [Dennis], [Marshall], [Lord], [Forester].
SCENE, Liege, and the Forest of Arden.
-- 1 --
Love in a Forest.
Act I.
Scene I.
A Garden.
Orlando and Adam entring.
Orlando.
You may remember, Adam,
my Father bequeath'd me by
Will but a poor 1000 Crowns,
and, as thou say'st, charg'd
my Brother on his Blessing to
breed me well; and there begins
my Sadness: My Brother Robert he keeps at
School, and Report speaks goldenly of his Profit;
for my Part, he keeps 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 Stalling of
an Ox? His Horses are bred better, for besides that
they are fair with their Feeding, they are taught
their Menage, and to that End Riders dearly hir'd:
-- 2 --
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 Education. This
it is, Adam, that grieves me, and the Spirit of my
Father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny
at this Servitude. I will no longer endure it,
tho' yet I know no wise Remedy how to avoid it.
Enter Oliver.
Adam.
Yonder comes my Master, your Brother.
Orl.
Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how
he will shake me up.
Oliver.
Now, Sir, what make you here?
Orl.
Nothing; I am not taught to make any
thing.
Oliver.
What, mar you then, Sir?
Orl.
I am helping you to mar that which Heav'n
made, a poor unworthy Brother of yours, with
Idleness.
Oliver.
Be better employ'd, Sir, and be Naught
a-while.
Orl.
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?
Orl.
Oh! Sir, very well, here in your Garden.
Oliver.
Know you before whom, Sir?
Orl.
Aye, better than him I am before knows
me. I know you are my eldest Brother, and in the
gentle Condition of Blood you shou'd so know me:
The Courtesy of Nations allows you my better, in
that you are the First-born; but the same Tradition
-- 3 --
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 something nearer to his Reverence.
Oliver.
What, Boy!
Orl.
Come, come, elder Brother, you are too
young in this.
[Laying his Hand on his Collar.
Oliver.
Wilt thou lay Hands on me, Villain?
Orl.
I am no Villain: I am the younger Son of
Sir Rowland du Bois, he was my Father, and he is
thrice a Villain, [shaking him] that says such a Father
begot Villains. Wert thou not my Brother,
I wou'd not take this Hand from thy Throat, till
this other had pull'd out thy Tongue for saying so;
thou hast rail'd on thy self.
Adam.
Sweet Master be patient, for your Father's
Remembrance be at accord.
Oliver.
Let me go, I say.
Orl.
I will not till I please: You shall hear me.
My Father charg'd you in his Will to give me good
Education: You have train'd me up like a Peasant,
obscuring 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 Allotment my Father left me by
Testament; with that I will buy my Fortunes.
Oliver.
And what wilt thou do, beg when that is
spent? Well, Sir, get you in, I will not long be
troubled with you; you shall have some Part of
your Will, I pray you leave me.
Orl.
I will no further offend you than becomes
me for my Good.
Oliver to Adam.
Get you with him, you Old
Dog.
Adam.
Is Old Dog my Reward? Most true I have
lost my Teeth in your Service: Heav'n be with
-- 4 --
my Old Master, he wou'd not have spoke such a
Word.
[Exeunt Orlando and Adam.
Oliver.
Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon
me? I will Physick your Rankness, and yet give
no 1000 Crowns neither. Holla! Dennis!
Enter Dennis.
Den.
Calls your Worship?
Oliver.
Was not Charles, the Duke's Fencer and
Master of his Academy, here to speak with me?
Den.
So please you, he is here at the Door, and
desires Access to you.
Oliver.
Call him in; 'twill be a good Way;—to
Morrow!—“No, to Day if it may be.
Enter Charles.
Char.
Good Morrow, Sir.
Oliver.
Good Mons. Charles, what's the News at
the new Court?
Char.
There's no News at the Court, Sir, but the
old News; that is the old Duke is banished by his
younger Brother the new Duke, and three or four
loving Lords have put themselves into a voluntary
Exile with him, whose Lands and Revenues inrich
the new Duke, therefore he gives them Leave to
wander.
Oliver.
Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's Daughter,
be banish'd with her Father.
Char.
Oh no, for the Duke's Daughter, her Cousin,
so loves her, being ever from their Cradles bred together,
that she wou'd have follow'd 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 lov'd as they
do.
Oliver.
Where will the old Duke live?
-- 5 --
Char.
He is already in the Forrest 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 have follow'd his Exile, and fleet
the Time carelesly as they did in the Golden World:
Nay, the very Mechanicks, and Labourers in
Handicraft leave every Day their Occupations,
and this populous City of Liege, and flock to visit
their exil'd Sovereign, as they call him.
Oliver.
I am sorry for it, but I find the Factions
against our Duke increase daily; and I must tell
thee, Charles, for I have set thee down my Friend,
my domestic Concerns are mingled with my Cares
for the publick; for my Brother, my younger Brother
Orlando—But art thou my Friend?—
Char.
If you have set me down your Friend, I
must tell you, I have set down the many Obligations
that made me so.
Oliver.
But art thou the Duke's Friend?
Char.
He is my Royal Master, and my Life is
his.
Oliver,
Why then, Charles, I will prove thee no
farther; my brother Orlando, as I was saying, has
long had a Design to practice against me, by Poison,
but this, unnatural as it is, is the least of his
Accusations: He is likewise enrolled with and attached
to a very dangerous Knot of the Family
and Friends of the banish'd Duke.
Char.
How, Sir!
Oliver.
This I am beyond Doubt assured of, this
I know; now if thou wilt upon my Honour, which,
with a Gentleman is equal at least to the Sanctity
of an Oath, appeal him instantly of this Treason
to the Duke, for the Plot is too ripe, too near Execution
to admit the least Delay; as I will unfold
it to thee hereafter: I say, if thou wilt appeal him
instantly of this Treason before the Duke, and answer
it in single Duel with thy Rapier, of which
-- 6 --
Skill, as of all other Gentlemanly Exercises, he is
mainly ignorant, thou may'st happily win an undangerous
Victory, and not only I, but the whole
State be deliver'd from a very dangerous and hated
Enemy.
Char.
But if I undertake this and miscarry, as the
most skilful may, ought my Family, which will be
by this Means out of the Protection of the Duke,
wholly to have their Reliance on your future Gratitude.
Oliver.
Here is my Purse, use it, thou shalt have
more, and often; doubt not thy Success, publick
Preferment will await thee; when, besides the
Atchievement of conquering an avow'd Traitor,
thou shalt be proclaim'd the Patron and Protector
of Frederick Duke of Burgundy.
Char.
And yet, methinks, it goes somewhat against
me, this Gentleman, Orlando, has such a
generally approv'd and unsoil'd Name.
Oliver.
I know the Vulgar doat on him, he is one
of their Errors, a staunch Hypocrite: Thou must
think how much against my Heart it runs, thus to
accuse my own Blood: But I assure thee, and almost
with Tears I speak it, there is not One so
young and so villainous this Day living: I speak
but Brotherly of him, but should I Anatomise him
to thee as he is, I must blush, and weep, and thou
must look pale and tremble.
Char.
You have warm'd me; I will accuse him instantly
to the Duke, and call him to the Combat; if
I do not give him the Reward both of his Parricide
and his Treason, may my good Heart, and my good
Sword both fail me: Farewel.
[Exit Charles.
Oliver.
Farewel good Charles, and Heav'n prosper
thee—Well, very well; now surely I shall see an
End of this Orlando; for my Soul, yet I know not
why, hates nothing more than him, yet he is gentle;
and tho' never School'd, yet learn'd, and full of
noble Device; of all Sorts inchantingly belov'd,
-- 7 --
and indeed so much the Heart of the World, and
especially of my own People, who best know him,
that I am altogether misprised, but this Fencer
shall clear all, and that without Delay: I will
immediately give another Lift to put this Wheel
in Motion.
Exit Oliver.
A Chamber in the Duke's Palace.
Rosalind and Cælia.
Cælia.
I prithee Rosalind, sweet my Cosin be
merry.
Ros.
Dear Cælia, I show more Mirth than I am
Mistress of; and wou'd you yet I were merrier?
Unless you cou'd teach me to forget the Duke my
Father, the banish'd Duke, you must not learn me
how to remember any extraordinary Pleasure.
Cæ.
Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full
Weight that I love thee.
Ros.
Well, I will forget the Condition of my
Estate, to rejoice in thine.
Cæ.
You know my Father hath no Child but me,
nor none is like to have, and truly when he dies
thou shall be his Heir; for what he hath taken
away from thy Father by Force, I will render thee
again in Affection; by my Honour I will, and
when I break that Oath let me turn Monster:
Therefore my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
Ros.
From henceforth I will, Cosin, and devise
Sports; let me see, What think you of falling in
Love?
Cæ.
Marry, I prithee do to make Sport withal;
but love no Man in good earnest, nor no farther in
Sport neither, than with Safety of a pure Blush thou
may'st in Honour come off again.
Ros.
What shall be the Sport then?
-- 8 --
Cæ.
Let us sit and mock the good Housewife Fortune
from her Wheel, that her Gifts may henceforth
be bestow'd equally.
Ros.
I wou'd we cou'd do so, for her Benefits are
mightily misplac'd, and the bountiful blind Woman
does most mistake in her Gifts to Women.
Cæ.
'Tis true, for those that she makes fair, she
scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest,
she makes very Ill-favoured.
Ros.
Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's Office,
to Nature's: Fortune reigns in Gifts of the World,
not in the Lineaments of Nature—
Cæ.
No, when Nature hath made a fair Creature
may she not by Fortune fall into the Fire: But soft
a while, here comes Monsieur Le-Beu.
Enter Le-Beu.
Ros.
With his Mouth full of News.
Cæ.
Which he will put upon us as Pigeons feed
their young.
Ros.
Then shall we be News cram'd.
Cæ.
All the better, we shall be the more Marketable.
Le-Beu.
Fair Princesses, if you stay here you are
like to lose much Sport.
Cæ.
Sport! of what Colour?
Le-Beu.
What Colour, Madam! how shall I answer
you?
Ros.
As Wit and Fortune will.
Cæ.
Or as the Destinies decree.
Le-Beu.
I was sent to inform you of the single Combat
that is to be perform'd before the whole Court this
Morning, indeed instantly; the Lists are prepar'd,
the Combatants arm'd, the Duke and his Nobles present,
the Heralds ready to sound, and nothing wanting
but the Grace of your Noble Personages, most
sweet Ladies, to make the Sport most gracious.
-- 9 --
Ros.
It is the first Time I ever heard Cutting of
Throats was Sport for Ladies.
Le-Beu.
Thus ev'ry thing being appointed, the Warriors
impatient, and the Circumstances of Affairs—
Ros.
Not to make your Words stumble in the Middle
of their Career, pray, Monsieur, between, whom,
and upon what Cause is this Blood to be shed on one
Side, or both.
Le-Beu.
Why thus, Ladies: Charles the Master of
the Duke's Academy hath impeach'd of Treason Orlando,
a younger Son of old Sir Rowland du Bois.
Ros.
I have heard much of that old Gentleman,
his eminent Worth was approv'd by general Voice,
albeit he was thy Father's profess'd Enemy, Cælia.
Cæ.
Well, Cousin, shall we see this Combat?
Ros.
Custom sanctifies every Thing, or else how
odd wou'd appear this judicial Trial by the Rapier
of what is Right, or Wrong.
Cæ.
If a Man of Courage cou'd not be a Knave,
nor a Coward Virtuous, a Fencing-Master wou'd make
an excellent Chancellor.
Ros.
And a Prize-Fighter a very good Chief Justice.
Cæ.
Yet so it is, and our Laws hold Decrees of
this Sort to be as sacred and inviolable, as if Heaven
were oblig'd to declare for the more Sinewy Arm.
Le-Beu.
Ladies, shall I have the Honour to attend
you?
Cæ.
You shall Sir, we will see this State Duel in
all its Forms.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE the Lists.
Trumpets, Kettle-Drums, Musick, a Throne &c. Frederick the Usurper, Lords on each Side the Throne, Cælia, Rosalind, and Ladies in their Seats, &c.
Duke.
Marshall, have you demanded of the Champions
-- 10 --
The Cause of their Arrival here, in Arms?
Marsh.
My Liege, I have, each hath accused the other,
As a false Traitor to his King and Country,
They are appointed equal, search'd and sworn,
Each to defend the Justice of his Cause.
Duke.
Then let them enter—
Marsh.
Trumpets, sound a Call,—
And summon both the Champions to the Lists.
Trumpets sound, Enter at opposite Doors Orlando and Charles.
Char.
Grant me the Combat, my most gracious Liege.
Orl.
And me, my Lord, grant me the Combat too.
Duke.
Say, Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore claim you Combat, and with whom?
Char.
First Heaven be the Record to my Speech,
In the Devotion of a Subject's Love,
And free from other misbegotten Hate,
Come I, appellant to my Royal Master.
Now young Orlando do I turn to thee,
And mark my Greeting well, for what I speak
My Body shall make good upon this Earth,
Or my divine Soul answer it in Heaven.
Thou art a Traitor and a Miscreant,
And wish (so please my Sovereign) e're I move,
What my Tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove.
Orl.
Let not my cooler Words accuse my Zeal,
'Tis not the Trial of a Woman's War,
The bitter Clamour of two eager Tongues,
Can arbitrate this Cause between us two,
The Blood is hot that must be shed for this.
First, the fair Reverence of this Presence curbs me
From giving Reins and Freedom to my Speech,
-- 11 --
Else would I doubly thus in Virtue bold,
Return the Traitor, and the Miscreant;
And add a slanderous Coward, and a Villain:
Which to maintain, I wou'd allow him Odds,
And meet him, tho' oblig'd to run on Foot
Ev'n to the frozen Ridges of the Alps,
Or any other Ground inhabitable,
Where ever honest Man durst set a Foot.
Cæ. aside to Ros.
How gracefully he deliver'd his
Words, with an honest Warmth and Modesty.
Ros.
And yet with a Spirit right and brave as
Hercules.
Cæ.
If he acquits himself as well with his Sword.
Ros.
Doubt it not, doubt it not.
Marsh.
On Pain of Death no Person be so bold,
Or daring hardy as to touch the Lists,
Except the Marshall, and such Officers,
Appointed to direct these fair Designs.
Ros. to Cæ.
Ah Cælia! I am not concern'd in this
Quarrel, am I? No, no, and yet my Heart says
otherwise, wou'd I were invisible, to hold that
Fencer's Arm but a Moment.
Cæ.
If I had a Thunder-bolt in my Hand I cou'd
tell who should fall.
Marsh.
Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants.
[Trumpets sound.
Char.
Come, Sir, I'll whip you from your foining Fence,
Spight of your May of Youth and Bloom of Blood.
Orl.
You promise well, come on, Sir, this to try
How well your Acts and Words agree.
[they fight,
[Charles is wounded by Orlando, and falls.
Duke.
Part 'em—No more of this;
He bleeds, he faints, how doest thou, Charles.
Le-Beu.
He can not speak, my Liege,
Duke,
Bear him away; What is thy Name young Man?
-- 12 --
Orl.
Orlando, Sir, a younger Son of Sir Rowland du Bois.
Duke.
I wou'd thou hadst been Son to some Man else,
The World esteem'd thy Father honourable,
But I did find him still mine Enemy;
Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this Deed,
Hadst thou descended from another House;
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant Youth:
I wou'd thou hadst told me of another Father.
Now break we up the Lists; Marshal, Record
The Appeal, and the Success.
[Exit Duke and Attendants.
Orlando, Cælia, Rosalind, Le-Beu.
Orl.
Yes, I am proud to be Sir Rowland's Son,
His younger Son, nor wou'd I change that Name,
To be adopted Heir to Frederick.
Ros. to Cæ.
My Father lov'd Sir Rowland as his Soul,
And all the World was of my Father's Mind;
Had I before known this young Man, his Son,
I should have added Tears unto my Wishes
For his Success.
Cæ.
—Gentle Cousin,
Let us go thank him, and encourage him,
My Father's rough and envious Disposition
Sticks me at Heart: [to Orl.] Sir, you have well deserv'd,
If you do keep your Promises in Love,
But justly, as you have exceeded all in Prowess,
Your Mistress will be happy.
Ros.
Sir, you will wear this for me:
[giving him a Favour.
One out of Fortune's Favour that wou'd give more,
but that her Hand lack Means. Shall we go,
Cousin?
-- 13 --
Cæ.
Aye!—Fare you well, Sir.
Orl.
Can I not say, I thank you? My better Parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
Is but a Statue, a meer Lifeless Block.
Ros. returning.
He calls us back: My Pride fell with my Fortunes,
I'll ask him what he wou'd—Did you call, Sir?
Sir, you have fought it well, and overthrown
More than your Enemies.
Cæ.
Will you go, Cousin?
Ros.
Have with you—Fare you well.
[Exeunt Cælia and Rosalind.
Orlando, Le-Beu.
Orl.
What Passion hangs these Weights upon my Tongue,
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged Conference,
Oh! poor Orlando, thou art overthrown,
And something, weaker than Charles, masters thee.
I pray ye tell me, Sir, which of these Ladies
Is Daughter to the Duke?
Le-Beu.
Neither his Daughter, if we judge by Manners;
But yet, indeed, the taller is his Daughter,
The other is Daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping Uncle
To keep his Daughter Company, whose Loves
Are dearer than the natural Bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en Displeasure against his gentle Niece,
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.
[Exeunt.
-- 14 --
Scene 3
SCENE a Chamber.
Cælia and Rosalind.
Cæ.
Why, Cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have
Mercy! Not a Word?
Ros.
Not one to throw at a Dog.
Cæ.
No; thy Words are too precious to be thrown
away upon Curs, throw some of them at me; come,
lame me with Reasons! But is all this Melancholly
for your Father?
Ros.
No, some of it is for my Child's Father:
Oh! how full of Briers is this Working-day World.
Cæ.
They are but Burrs, Cousin, thrown upon
thee in Holy-day Foolery; if we walk in the trodden
Paths our very Petticoats will catch 'em.
Ros.
I cou'd shake them off my Coat; these Burrs
are in my Heart.
Cæ.
Hem them away.
Ros.
I wou'd try, if I cou'd cry Hem, and have
him.
Cæ.
Come, come, you must, like a good Christian,
War with your Affections.
Ros.
Alas! they take the Part of a better Warrior
than myself.
Cæ.
Is it then possible, that so suddenly you
should fall into so strange a liking of old Sir Rowland's
younger Son?
Ros.
The Duke my Father loved his Father dearly.
Cæ.
Does 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.
Ros.
No faith! hate him not for my Sake.
Cæ.
Why should I not? Does he not deserve it?
-- 15 --
Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords.
Ros.
Let me love him for that, and do you love
him because I do; look ye, here comes the Duke,
your Father,
Cæ.
With his Eyes full of Anger.
Duke to Ros.
Mistress, dispatch you with your safest Haste,
And get you from our Court.
Ros.
Me! Uncle?
Duke.
You, Cousin; if thou art found within ten
Days, so near our publick Court as twenty Miles,
thou diest for it.
Ros.
—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 my own Desires,
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
Never so much as in a Thought unborn
Did I offend your Highness.
Duke.
—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.
Ros.
Yet your Mistrust can not make me a Traitor,
Tell me, whereon the likelyhood depends?
Duke.
Thou art thy Father's Daughter, that's enough.
Ros.
So was I when your Highness took his Dukedom,
So was I when your Highness banish'd him,
Treason is not inherited, my Lord.
Cæ.
Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke.
Aye, Cælia, we stay'd her for your Sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along,
I will not be intreated, not a Word,
-- 16 --
Firm and irrevocable is the Doom
Which I have pass'd upon her, she is banish'd.
Cæ.
Pronounce that Sentence then on me, my Liege,
I can not live out of her Company.
Duke.
You are a Fool—You, Niece, provide yourself,
If you out stay the Time, upon my Honour,
And in the Greatness of my Word, you die.
Exit Duke and Lord.
Cælia and Rosalind.
Cæ.
Oh my poor Rosalind! whither wou't thou go,
I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.
Ros.
I have more Cause.
Cæ.
—Thou hast not, Cousin,
Prithee be chearful, knowest thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his Daughter?
Ros.
That he hath not.
Cæ.
No! Hath not? Rosalind lacks then the Love
Which should teach her that she and I are one,
Shall we be sundred? Shall we part sweet Girl?
No, let my Father seek another Heir:
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us,
And do not seek to take the Charge upon you,
To bear your Griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For by this Heaven, now as our Sorrows pale,
Say what thou can'st I'll go along with thee.
Ros.
—Why whither shall we go?
Cæ.
To seek my uncle, in the Forrest of Arden.
Ros.
Alass! what Danger will it be to us,
(Maids as we are) to travel forth so far?
Beauty provoketh Thieves sooner than Gold.
Cæ.
I'll put myself in poor and mean Attire,
And with a Kind of Umber smut my Face,
-- 17 --
The like do you, so shall we pass along
And never stir Assailants.
Ros.
—Were it not better,
That I did suit me in all Points like a Man,
A gallant Cutlass by my Side,
A Boar-Spear in my Hand, and in my Heart,
Lie there what hidden Woman's Fear there will,
We'll have a Swaggering and Martial Outside,
As many other Mannish Cowards have
That do out-face it with their Semblances.
Cæ.
What shall I call thee, when thou art a Man?
Ros.
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?
Cæ.
Something that has a Reference to my State,
No longer Cælia, but Aliena.
Ros.
—Let's away,
And get our Jewels and our Wealth together,
Devise the fittest, and the safest Way
To hide us from Pursuit that will be made
After my Flight: Now go we in Content
To Liberty, and not to Banishment.
[Exeunt.
The End of the First ACT.
-- 18 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
OLIVER's House.
Orlando and Adam.
Orl.
Who's there?
Adam.
What, my young Master; Oh my gentle Master,
Oh my sweet Master! Oh 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 wou'd you be so fond to overcome
The bonny Prizer of the humourous Duke?
Your Praise is come too swiftly Home before you:
Know you not, Master, to some kind of Men
Their Graces serve them but as Enemies,
No more do yours; your Virtues, gentle Master,
Are sanctify'd, and holy Traitors to you:
Oh, what a World is this! when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it.
Orl.
Why, what's the Matter?
Adam.
—Oh, unhappy Youth,
Come not within these Doors, beneath 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)
Of him I was about to call his Father,
Hath heard your Praises, and this Night he means
To burn the Lodging where you us'd to lie,
-- 19 --
And you within it; if he fail of that,
He will have other Means to cut you off;
I over-heard him and his Practices;
This is no Place, this House is but a Butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
Orl.
Why-whither, Adam, wou'd'st thou have me go?
Adam.
No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orl.
What, wou'd'st thou have me go and beg my Food;
Or with a base and boisterous Hand inforce
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 saved under your Father,
Which I did Store to be my Foster Nurse
When Service shou'd 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,
Tho' I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my Youth I never did apply
Hot and Rebellious Liquors to my Blood,
Nor did I with unbashful Forehead woe
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.
Orl.
Oh good Old Man! how well in thee appears
The constant Service of the Antique World,
When Service sweat for Duty, not for Need;
Thou art not for the Fashion of these Times,
-- 20 --
Where none will sweat but for Promotion,
And having that, do choak their Service up
Even with the having; it is not so with thee;
But poor Old Man, thou prunest a rotten Tree,
That cannot so much as a Blossom yield
In lieu of all thy Pains and Husbandry.
Enter Le-Beu.
So, Sir, what News from Court?
Le-Beu.
Bad News towards you, Orlando.
Orl.
Say it then, good Le-Beu,
I have been hackney'd, worn in evil Fortune,
And shall receive it with a constant Mind.
Le-Beu.
The Duke, too jealous of his sickly State,
Perhaps of your Desert, commands you go
Within three Days after the Sight of this
[giving him an Order.
Into perpetual Banishment, or else
To suffer as a Traitor convict.
Orl.
The jealous Duke prevents my Brother's Malice;
Behold, good Adam, that eternal Guard
That watches and provides for all its Creatures,
Warns us away to save us from Destruction;
Thus what the Vulgar think Infliction, Pain,
Is often a Reward, and Virtue's Merit:
But come thy ways, we'll both along together,
And e'er 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,
From seventeen Years, till now almost fourscore,
Here liv'd 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 recompence me better,
Than to die well, and not my Master's Debtor.
[Exeunt.
-- 21 --
FREDERICK's Palace.
Duke Frederick, with Lords.
Duke.
Can it be possible that no Man saw 'em?
It can not be, some Villains of my Court
Are of Consent and Sufferance in this.
Lord.
I cannot hear of any that did see her:
Hisperia the Princess's Gentlewoman
Confesses that she secretly o're heard
Your Daughter and her Cousin much commend
The Parts and Graces of the young Orlando,
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles,
And she believes wherever they are gone
That Youth is surely in their Company.
Duke.
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 no Search, no Inquisition quail;
Bring me again this foolish Runaway,
[Exeunt.
The Forest of Arden, before the Duke's Cave.
Duke Alberto, Amiens, Jaques, and two or three Lords like Foresters.
Duke.
Now my Comates 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 we do feel the Penalty of Adam,
The Season's Difference, the Icy Phang,
And churlish chiding of the Winter's Wind:
-- 22 --
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 Councellours
Who feelingly perswade me what I am.
Amiens.
—Happy is your Grace
That can translate the Stubborness of Fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a Stile:
But, Sir, this Forest will become a City,
Your People quit the Tyrant's Court, and hither
Resort in Crouds; Mechanics of all Sorts
Petition to delight and serve your Grace;
They will obey you as their King and Father:
A double Tye of Duty.
Duke.
—My Heart bleeds
When I reflect, good Amiens, that my Power
Is weaker than my Love; No more of this:
Come, shall we go and kill us Venison?
And yet it irks me, the poor dapple Fools,
Being native Burghers of this Desart City,
Shou'd, in their own Confines, with forked Heads,
Have their round Haunches goar'd.
Jaques.
Indeed, my Lord, it grieves me very much,
And in that Kind, I swear you more usurp,
Than does your Brother, who hath banish'd you;
Mark well my Story and you'll find it so:
To Day, my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Lay in the Shade of an old Druid Oak,
Whose antique venerable Root peeps out
Upon the Brook that brawls along this Wood,
To which Place, a poor sequestred 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, while the big round Drops
Cours'd one another down his innocent Nose
In piteous Chace; and thus the hairy Fool
-- 23 --
Stood on the extreamest Verge of the swift Brook,
Augmenting it with Tears.
Duke.
—Didst thou not Jaques?
Didst thou not moralize this Spectacle?
Jaques.
Who cou'd behold it, Sir, and not reflect?
First, for his Weeping in the unwanting Stream;
Is it not plain he made a Testament
As Worldlings do, giving his Sum of more
To that which had too much: Anon a careless Herd,
Full of the Pasture, jumps along the Verdure,
And never stays to greet him; there you see
A Crowd of fat and greasy Citizens
Looking with Scorn on a poor ruin'd Bankrupt.
Are we not all Usurpers, Tyrants, worse,
To fright these Animals and kill them thus
In their assign'd and native Dwelling-Place.
Duke.
—Shew me this Place,
There will we sweetly moralize together,
And make our Contemplations give at once
Delight, and Use.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE another Part of the Forest.
Rosalind, in Boys Cloaths, as Ganymede; Cælia, dress'd like a Shepherdess, as Aliena.
Ros.
Oh, Jupiter, how weary are my Spirits?
Cæ.
I care not for my Spirits, if my Legs were
not tir'd.
Ros.
I cou'd find in my Heart to disgrace my
Mans Apparel, and to cry like a Woman; but I
must comfort the weaker Vessel, as Hat and Breeches
ought to shew itself couragious to a Petticoat; therefore,
Courage, good Aliena.
Cæ.
I pray you bear with me, I can go no farther.
-- 24 --
Ros.
Come, bear a Heart, Girl; there is a Creature
[Enter Sylvius] looks like a Man, I'll question
him if he for Gold will give us any Food—
Holla, Friend.
Syl.
Who calls?
Ros.
Good, even to you, Friend.
Syl.
And to you, gentle Sir, and to you both.
Ros.
I prithee, Shepherd, if that Love, or Gold,
Can in this Place buy any Entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed,
Here's a young Maid with Travel much oppress'd,
And faints for Succour.
Syl.
—Fair Sir, I pity her,
And wish for her Sake, more than for my 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 cares to find the Way to Heaven
By doing Deeds of Hospitality:
Besides, his Coat, his Flocks, and Bounds of Feed,
Are now on Sale; and at our Sheepcoat, yonder,
By Reason of his Absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; if there is, you'll see,
And in my Voice most Welcome shall you be.
Ros.
I prithee, if it stand with Honesty,
Buy thou the Cottage, Pasture, and the Flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Cæ.
—And we will mend thy Wages,
I like this Place, and willingly wou'd spend
My Time in it.
Syl.
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.
[Exeunt.
-- 25 --
Orlando and Adam.
Adam.
Dear Master, I can go no farther:
Oh I die for Food: Here lie I down,
And Measure out my Grave; Farewel kind Master.
Orl.
Why how now, Adam! No greater Heart in thee?
Live a little, Comfort a little, Chear thyself a little.
Thy Conceit is nearer Death, than thy Powers.
For my Sake be comfortable, hold Death a while
At Arms End: I will be here with you 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 Labour.
Well said, thou look'st chearly,
And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou liest
In the bleak Air. Come I will bear the to some Shelter,
And thou shalt not die for Lack of a Dinner, if
there live any Thing in this Desart: Chearly good
Adam.
[Exit Orlando, leading Adam.
Duke Alberto, Amiens, and Nobles at a Banquet.
Duke.
I think he is transform'd into a Beast,
For I can no where find him like a Man.
Amiens.
My Lord, he is but even now gone hence.
Duke.
Pray seek him, tell him I wou'd speak with him.
Amiens.
He saves my Labour, by his own Approach.
[Enter Jaques.
Duke.
Why how now, Monsieur, What a Life is this?
That your poor Friends must woo your Company?
What, you look merrily!
Jaques.
A Fool, a Fool, I met a Fool i'the Forest,
A motly Fool, a miserable World!
-- 26 --
As I do live by Food; I met a Fool;
Good Morrow, Fool, quoth I; no, Sir, quoth he,
Call me not Fool, till Heaven hath sent me Fortune;
And then he drew a Dial from his Poak,
And looking on it with lack-lustre Eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten a 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, 'twill 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, Oh Noble Fool!
A worthy Fool; Motley's your only wear.
Duke.
What Fool is this?
Jaques.
A worthy Fool! One that has 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 cram'd
With Observation, the which he vents
In mangled Forms. Oh that I were a Fool!
I am ambitious of a Motley Coat.
Duke.
Thou shalt have one.
Jaques.
—It is my only Suit.
Enter Orlando, his Sword drawn.
Orl.
Forbear to eat no more.
Jaques.
Why, I have eat none yet.
Orl.
Nor shall not till Necessity be serv'd.
Jaques.
Of what Kind shou'd this Cock come?
Duke.
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?
Orl.
You touch'd my Vein at first; the Thorny Point
-- 27 --
Of bare Distress hath ta'en from me the Shew
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 answer'd.
Jaques.
And you will not be answer'd with Reason,
I must die.
Duke.
—What wou'd you have?
Orl.
I almost die for Food, and let me have it.
Duke.
Sit down and feed, and welcome to our Table.
Orl.
Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you,
I thought that all Things had been Savage here,
And therefore put I on the Countenance
Of stern Commandment. But whate'er you are
That in this Desart, inaccessible,
Under the Shade of melancholly Boughs,
Lose, and neglect the creeping Hours of Time,
If ever you have look'd on better Days;
If ever been where Bells have knowl'd to Church;
If ever sat at any Good Man's Feast;
If ever from your Eyelids wiped a Tear;
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pity'd,
Let Gentleness my strong Enforcement be,
In the which Hope, I blush, and hide my Sword.
Duke.
True it is, that we have seen better Days,
And have with holy Bell been knowl'd to Church,
And sat at Good Men's Feasts, and wip'd our Eyes
Of Drops that sacred Pity hath engender'd:
And therefore sit you down in Gentleness,
And take upon Command what help we have,
That to your Wanting may be ministred.
Orl.
Then but forbear your Food a little Time,
Whiles, like a Doe, I go to find my Fawn,
And give it Food. There is an Old poor Man
That after me hath many a weary Step
Limp'd in pure Love; till he be first sufficed,
-- 28 --
Oppress'd with two weak Evils, Age and Hunger,
I will not touch a Bit.
Duke.
—Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orl.
I thank you, and be bless'd for your good Comfort.
[Exit Orlando.
Duke.
Thou see'st we are not all alone unhappy,
This wide and universal Theatre
Presents more woeful Pageants, than the Scene
Wherein we play.
Amiens.
Some Citizens from Liege, some of the many
Fled hither, Sir, for your Protection, beg by me
They may have Leave to entertain your Grace.
Duke.
How is it they propose to entertain?
Amiens.
A Play it shou'd be, Sir, what 'twill appear, I know not,
They have rehears'd it in the Wood this Morning.
Duke.
And what the Subject?
Amiens.
They call it, A tedious brief Scene of
young Pyramus and his Love Thisby; very tragical
Mirth.
Duke.
Merry and Tragical, tedious and brief,
How shall we find the Concord of this Discord?—
Well, let them be ready before our Cave in the
Evening; there they shall represent it; this Theatrical
Performance will stir thy Gall, Jaques.
Jaques.
—Not at all;
He that can reflect wants not these Mirrours:
All the World's a Stage,
And all the Men and Women meerly Players;
They have their Exits and their Entrances,
And one Man in his Time plays many Parts;
His Life being seven Ages: At first the Infant
Mewling and Puking in the Nurse's Arms:
And then the whining School-boy with his Satchel
And shining Morning Face, creeping like Snail
Unwillingly to School: And then the Lover
-- 29 --
Sighing like Furnace, with a woeful Ballad
Made to his Mistress's Eyebrow: Then a Soldier
Full of strange Oaths, and bearded like the Pard,
Jealous in Honour, sudden and quick in Quarrel,
Seeking the Bubble Reputation—
Even in the Cannon's Mouth, And then the Justice
In fair round Belly, with good Capon lined,
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
Turning again toward Childish treble Pipes,
And whistles in his Sound: Last Scene of all
That ends this strange eventful History,
Appears in Nerves unbrac'd, Reflection lost,
A second Childishness, and meer Oblivion.
Enter Orlando, leading Adam
Duke.
Welcome, here rest your venerable Burthen,
And let him feed—
Orl.
I thank you most for him.
Adam.
—So had you Need,
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke.
Welcome, fall too, I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your Fortunes.
Give us some Musick—
-- 30 --
SONG.
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,
Altho' thy Breath be rude.
Freeze, Freeze, thou bitter Sky, that does not bite so nigh
As Benefits forgot:
Tho' thou the Waters warp, thy Sting is not so sharp,
As Friend remember'd not.
Duke.
If that you are the good Sir Rowland's Son,
As you have whisper'd faithfully you are,
And as mine Eye doth his Effigies witness
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,
And let me all your Fortunes understand.
The End of the second ACT.
-- 31 --
The Third ACT.
Scene 1
SCENE the Forest.
Orlando, a Paper of Verses in his Hand.
Orl. fixing the Paper on a Tree.
Hang there my Verse, in Witness of my Love;
And thou thrice crowned Queen of Night survey
With thy chast Eye, from thy pale Sphere above,
Thy Huntress Name that my full Life doth sway.
Oh, Rosalind, 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 every where;
Run, run, Orlando, carve on every Tree
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.
[Exit Orlando.
Scene 2
Scene continues. Rosalind and Cælia.
Cæ.
What have you there?
[Ros. takes the Paper Orlando had hung on the Tree.
Ros.
More Rhymes, Cosin.
Cæ.
Aye! read them, read them.
Ros. reads.
From the East to Western Inde
No Jewel is like Rosalind,
Her Worth being mounted on the Wind,
Thro' all the World bears Rosalind;
All the Pictures fairest lin'd,
Are but black to Rosalind;
-- 32 --
Let no Face be kept in Mind
But the Face of Rosalind.
Cæ.
Heyday; I'll Rhyme you so eight Years together,
Dinners and Suppers, and Sleeping Times
excepted: For a Taste,
If a Hart does lack a Hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind;
If the Cat will after Kind,
So be sure will Rosalind;
Winter Garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalind;
They that reap must sheaf and bind,
Then to Cart with Rosalind;
Sweetest Meat hath sowrest Rind,
Such a Nut is Rosalind.
Ros.
This is the very false Gallop of Verse; why
do you infect yourself with them?
Cæ.
But doest thou not wonder, Cosin, how thy
Name shou'd be hang'd and carved upon these
Trees?
Ros.
Look ye here, what I found on a Palm-Tree,
I was never so Berhym'd since Pythagoras's Time,
which I can hardly remember!
Cæ.
Tro you who hath done this?
Ros.
It is a Man.
Cæ.
With a Ribond, you once wore, about his Arm;
Change you Colour?
Ros.
I prithee who?
Cæ.
O Lord, Lord, it is a hard Matter for Friends
to meet; but Mountains may be remov'd with Earthquakes,
and so encounter.
Ros.
Nay, but who is it?
Cæ.
Is it possible?
Ros.
Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary
Vehemence, tell me who it is?
Cæ.
Oh wonderful! and most wonderfully wonderful!
and yet again wonderful! and after that out of
all hooping.
-- 33 --
Ros.
One Inch of Delay more, and I die before
this Discovery. I prithee tell me, who is it? Quickly!
and speak apace, is he of Heavens making?
What Manner of Man? Is his Head worth a Hat?
Or his Chin worth a Beard?
Cæ.
Nay, he hath but a little Beard.
Ros.
Why then I'll stay the Growth of his Beard,
if thou delay me not the Knowledge of his Name.
Cæ.
It is then young Orlando, he who wounded
yours and the Fencer's Heart, both in an Instant.
Ros.
Nay, but the Devil take mocking? Speak,
speak.
Cæ.
I'faith, Cousin, 'tis he.
Ros.
Orlando!
Cæ.
Orlando.
Ros.
Alas the Day, what shall I do with these
Breeches? What did he when thou sawest him?
What said he? How looked he? Where 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.
Cæ.
You must borrow me Garagantua's Mouth first;
'tis a Work too great for any Mouth of this Age's
Size; to say at once aye and no together, to be general
and particular at once, is beyond my Catechism.
Ros.
But does he know that I am in this Forest,
and in Mans Apparel? Looks he freshly as he did
the Day he fought with Charles the Fencer?
Cæ.
It is as easy to count Atoms, as to resolve the
Propositions of a Lover; but take a Taste of my
finding him, and relish it with good Observance:—
I found him under an Oak, like a drop'd Acorn.
Ros.
It may well be called Jove's Tree, when
it drops such Fruit.
Cæ.
Give me Audience, good Madam.
Ros.
Proceed.
-- 34 --
Cæ.
There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded
Knight.
Ros.
Tho' it be pity to see such a Sight, it well
becomes the Ground.
Cæ.
Cry Holla to thy Tongue, I prithee, it curvets
unreasonably. He was furnish'd like a Hunter.
Ros.
Oh ominous! he comes to kill my Heart.
Cæ.
I would sing my Song without a Burthen, you
put me out of Tune.
Ros.
Do you not know I am a Woman? What I
think I must speak: Sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Cæ.
You put me out;—Soft; Comes he not
here?
Ros.
'Tis he, let us steal by and note him.
Jaques.
I thank you for your Company, though,
good Faith, I had as lieve been alone.
Orl.
And so had I, but yet for Fashion Sake, I
thank you too for your Society.
Jaques.
Good b'w'you, let's meet as little as we
can.
Orl.
I do desire we may be better Strangers.
Jaques.
I pray ye mar no more Trees with writing
Love-Songs in their Barks.
Orl.
I pray you mar no more of my Verses with
reading 'em ill-favour'dly.
Jaques.
Rosalind is your Love's Name.
Orl.
Yes, just.
Jaques.
I do not like her Name.
Orl.
There was no Thought of pleasing you, when
she was christen'd.
Jaques.
What Stature is she of?
Orl.
Just as high as my Heart: But why are you
thus curious? You who are an obstinate Heretick in
the Despight of Beauty, and the whole Female World.
-- 35 --
Jaques.
That a Woman conciev'd me I thank her:
That she brought me up I likewise give her my
most hearty Thanks; but that I will have a Recheate
winded in my Forehead all Women shall pardon me:
Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust
any, I will trust none.
Orl.
I shall see thee e're I die look pale with
Love.
Jaques.
With Anger, with Sickness, or with Hunger,
not with Love; prove that ever I loose more
Blood with Love than I shall get again with a Bottle,
pick out my Eyes with a Ballad-maker's Pen, and
hang me up at the Door of a Brothel-house for the
Sign of blind Cupid.
Orl.
If thou should'st fall from this Faith.
Jaques.
If I do, hang me in a Bottle like a Cat,
and shoot at me, and he that hits me let him be
clap'd on the Shoulder and call'd Adam.
Orl.
In Time the Savage Bull did bear the Yoak.
Jaques.
The Savage Bull may, but if ever the
sensible Jaques does, pluck off the Bull's Horns and
set them in my Forehead, and let me be vilely
painted, and in such great Letters as they write,
Here are Horses to be let; let them signify under
my Sign, Here liveth Jaques the marry'd Man.
Orl.
If Cupid hath not spent all his Quiver, thou
wou't quake for this shortly.
Jaques.
Hah! what have we here, a Wood Nymph
and a Shepherd, these Animals are not of our
Growth sure?
Orl.
By their Habits and Mien you need not
blush to own them; Are you sure they are human?
Jaques.
Let us try and accost them, however, in
human Terms.
Ros. to Cæ.
I will speak to him like a saucy Lacquey,
and under that Habit play the Knave with
him: Do you hear, Forester?
-- 36 --
[Jaques talks with Cælia, they walk in another
Glade of the Forest, while the Scene continues
between Rosalind and Orlando.
Orl.
Very well—What wou'd you?
Ros.
I pray you, what is it a Clock?
Orl.
You shou'd ask me what Time o'the Day,
there is no Clock in the Forest.
Ros.
Then there is no true Lover in the Forest,
Sighing else every Minute, and Groaning every
Hour, wou'd detect the lazy Foot of Time as well
as a Clock.
Orl.
Where dwell you, pretty Youth?
Ros.
With the Shepherdess you saw with me, my
Sister, here in the Skirts of the Forest, like Fringe
upon a Petticoat.
Orl.
Are you Native of this Place?
Ros.
As the Rabit, which you see dwells where
she is kindled.
Orl.
Your Accent seems to be something finer
than you cou'd purchase in so remoted a Dwelling.
Ros.
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
Courtship too well, for there he fell in Love. I
have heard him read many Lectures against it: I
thank Heaven I am not a Woman to be touch'd
with so many giddy Offences as he hath generally
tax'd the whole Sex withal.
Orl.
Can you remember any of the principal
Evils that he laid to the Charge of Women?
Ros.
There were none principal, they were all
like one another as Half-pence are; every Fault
seeming monstrous, till the Fellow Fault appear'd
to match it.
Orl.
I prithee, recount some of them.
Ros.
No, I will not cast away my Physick but
on those that are sick. There is a Man haunts this
Forest that abuses our young Plants with carving
-- 37 --
Rosalind on their Barks; hangs Odes upon Hawthorns;
and Elegies on Brambles; all, forsooth,
Deifying the Name of Rosalind. If I cou'd meet
that Fancy-Monger, I wou'd give him good Counsel,
for he seems to have the Quotidian of Love upon
him.
Orl.
I am he so Love shaken; I pray you tell me
your Remedy.
Ros.
There are none of my Uncle's Marks upon
you, he taught me how to know a Man in Love;
in which Cage of Rushes I am sure you are no Prisoner.
Orl.
What where his Marks?
Ros.
A lean Cheeck, which you have not; a blue
Eye, and sunk, which you have not; a Beard neglected,
which you have not; but I pardon you
for that, for simply your having no Beard is a
younger Brother's Revenue: Then your Hose
shou'd be ungarter'd, your Bonnet unbanded, your
Sleeve unbutton'd, your Shoe unbuckled, and every
Thing about you demonstrating a careless Desolation:
But you are no such Man, you are rather
Point Device in your Accoutrements, as loving
yourself, than seeming the Lover of any other.
Orl.
Fair Youth, I wou'd I cou'd make thee believe
I love.
Ros.
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 which Women still give the Lie to
their Consciences. But in good sooth, are you he
that hangs the Verses on the Trees, wherein Rosalind
is so much admired?
Orl.
I swear to thee, Youth, by the white Hand
of Rosalind, I am he, that unfortunate he.
Ros.
But are you so much in Love, as your
Rhymes speak;
-- 38 --
Orl.
Neither Rhyme, nor Reason can express
how much.
Ros.
Love is meerly a Madness, and I tell you,
deserves as well a dark House, and a Whip, as mad
Men do: And the Reason why they are not so punished
and cured is, that the Lunacy is so general,
that the Whippers are in love too: Yet I profess curing
it by Counsel.
Orl.
Did you ever cure any so?
Ros.
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 wou'd 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 Birds of this Colour: Wou'd now
like him, now loath him, then entertain him, then
forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him;
till I drove this Suitor from his mad Humour of
Love to a living Humour of Madness; which was
to forswear the full Stream of the World, and to live
in a Nook meerly Monastical: And thus I cured
him, and this Way will I take upon me to wash
your Liver as clear as a sound Sheep's Heart; that
there shall not be one Spot of Love in it.
Orl.
I wou'd not be cured, Youth.
Ros.
I wou'd cure you if you wou'd but call me
Rosalind, and come every Day to my Cave and
woo me.
Orl.
Now by the Faith of my Love I will, tell
me where it is.
Ros.
Go with me, and I will show it you; and
by the Way you shall tell me where in the Forest
you live.—Will you go?
Orl.
With all my Heart, good Youth.
Ros.
Nay, nay, you must call me Rosalind.
[Exeunt Orlando and Rosalind.
-- 39 --
Jaques and Cælia coming forward.
Cæ.
A Philosopher! what Sort of a Play-thing is
that?
Jaques.
A Thing that very oft sets up for Probity
and Wisdom without one Ounce of either; it is
generally Self-sufficient, seldom just, and always
sower, more abounding in Ill-nature than Knowledge.
Cæ.
Oh, Knowledge ill inhabited, worse than
Jove in a thatch'd House.
Jaques.
Are you honest?
Cæ.
If I had any Neighbours you might ask
them.
Jaques.
I hope you are not.
Cæ.
Why so, wou'd you not have me honest?
Jaques.
No truly, unless thou wer't hard favour'd,
for Honesty coupled with Beauty is to make Honey
Sauce for Sugar.
Cæ.
Then you allow me handsome?
Jaques.
Destructively handsome! I fancy too
you have Understanding; but peradventure my
Head takes Instructions from my Heart, for that, I
feel by its Palpitation, gallops away in your Praise
most dangerously.
Cæ.
You'll be in Love if you do not take good
Heed, Signior Philosopher,—You have some Symptoms,
have you not?
Jaques.
I doubt so—Yet I hope not—When
I lean'd my Shoulder against yours to read Orlando's
Verses, I caught a Tingling; aye,—here it is
still; and creeps every Moment more and more into
my Blood.—
Cæ.
Well,—be a faithful Servant, and I will
use you kindly.
-- 40 --
Jaques.
What a Bound has that given my Spirits!
Hark ye, will you,—tell Nobody of it tho'—
will you marry me?
Cæ.
Oh, you begin where you shou'd end, my
true Knight; two Years hence, after many Services
and various Adventures, it will be Time enough,
sure, to ask that solemn Question.
Jaques.
Two Years! What? How? Must I then,
must I work in the Galleys two whole Years?
Cæ.
In the Galleys, heyday—You wicked
Thing; you're a Suitor indeed, Ha, ha,—
Jaques.
Well, then I will flatter thee like thy
Glass.
Cæ.
Truth, good sound Truth, is Food substantial
enough for my Pride.
Jaques.
Thou shalt be as humourous as thy sick
Dog, thy Passions shall have no other Masters than
thy Desires; thy—
Cæ.
Hold, hold, you are Railing on me, while
you intend to praise me; indeed you do not make
Love, but suffer it, it seems, to be in Spight of
your Will.
Jaques.
Wou'd it were in Spight of my Heart too;
but that is a Renegade, and has left its Master.
Cæ.
Well said, sigh a little; you'll soon trot easy
in your Harness.
Jaques.
But as I said before—will you—'tis
a hard Word, but will you marry me?
Cæ.
Two Years hence, if my Brother Ganymede
consents, for without his Consent I am sworn not
to convey myself away; if your Inclinations are
the same, and mine alter,—why then we will talk
this Matter over once again.
Jaques.
I will ask your Brother's Consent.
Cæ.
That you may, and have an Answer, depend
upon it; but now you have put me in Mind that I
have miss'd him too long, that Way I think he
went—Adieu.
[Exit Cælia.
-- 41 --
Jaques.
Fare you well, Lady—I am a Turk,
an errant Miscreant, if I am not in Love, horribly,
strangely in Love! what! to have my Spirits caught
at last by a Pair of bugle Eyeballs, and a Cheek of
Cream—I shall be the Jest of the World, I
shall have Quirk and Witticisms broke on me innumerable,
—Because I have railed on Marriage:—
Why—Appetites alter, and one may love in his
Age, I hope, what he cou'd not endure in his Youth.
And yet if a Man were of a fearful Heart, he might
stagger a little in this Attempt; and wou'd my Mistress
marry me, which bears a Question likewise,
we have here no Temple but the Wood, no Assembly
but horned Beasts,—Horns,—Aye, they
may be a Wife's Dowry, 'tis plain they can not be a
Man's own getting;—And yet the noblest married
Man hath them as huge as the Rascal;—Is a
Batchelor, therefore, more honourable than a Husband?
—No, as a walled Town is worthier than a
Village, by so much is the armed Forehead of a married
Man more honourable than the bare Brow of a
Batchelor.—Surely this Wound is not very
dangerous that I can tickle myself thus with scratching
it:—I do not know how it is,—I am
in a silly Way,—Well—Well—We
are all Babies, and cry ourselves sick for Play-things
that we throw away the Moment after we have
them.
[Exit Jaques.
Re-enter Cælia and Rosalind.
Ros.
I met the Duke Yesterday, and had much
Question with him, he asked me of what Parentage
I was, I told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and
let me go: But what talk we of Fathers when there
is such a Man as Orlando.
-- 42 --
Cæ.
But as I was saying, Coz, this Bluntness of
Jaques becomes him, it is so unaffected; I think
my Heart does incline a little to the Philosopher.
Ros.
Then Orlando's Hair; aye, his Hair is of
the dissembling Colour.
Cæ.
Then Jaques's Love looks a little awkward;
it does not sit so easy on him; but his Words are full
of Sincerity.
Ros.
No faith, his Hair is of a good Colour.
Cæ.
I think he has got an Inch or two into my
Heart,
Ros.
Ah me! I am fifty Fathom deep in Love,
I shall never recover it.
Cæ.
Lord, you can think of nothing but Orlando;
but now I beg, I petition for a Word or two in Behalf
of my Servant Senior Jaques.
Ros.
Orlando swore he wou'd come again presently,
is he not a true Lover, think you?
Cæ.
As hollow as a cover'd Goblet, or a Worm-eaten
Nut.
Ros.
Yet he swore he was true.
Cæ.
Aye, so they do all, but they tell us, Cousin,
and I tremble to think of it, that the Oath of a Lover
is not to be depended on; but our Lovers are
Courtiers too, and attend here on the Duke your Father,
in this Forest: Now as Courtiers they have a
certain Right to Promise-breaking.
Ros.
No Matter, Orlando is not, can not, will
not, shall not be false.
Cæ.
Oh he is a brave Man, writes brave Verses,
speaks brave Words, swears brave Oaths, and notwithstanding
your Resolution, Madamoiselle, he
may break them as bravely. But what say you to
Senior Jaques, once again? Will he make a good
Husband?
Ros.
Aye, a good Workyday Husband; you must
have another for Sundays, but indeed your wife
Fools make the best Lovers, 'tis your—impenetrable
-- 43 --
Block only, that is ungovernable; thro' the
Head of a wise Man there is a beaten Path to his
Heart, that every Woman knows.
Cæ.
But your Advice, your Advice.
Ros.
Alas, thou knowest I am sick of thy Distemper,
and I must find a Cure for my own Malady before
I presume to prescribe to thine.
[Exeunt.
The End of the Third ACT.
-- 44 --
The Fourth ACT.
Jaques and Rosalind.
Jaques.
I come, young Shepherd, in the Name
of that wimpled, whining, purblind,
wayward Boy, Regent of Rhiming, Lord of folded
Arms, anointed Soveriegn of Sighs and Groans,
Don Cupid—!—
Ros.
Say you so! Sir, Monsieur Jaques himself!
is he inlisted in this blind Prince's Regiment of sighing
Ideots.
Jaques.
Aye—I wear his Colours, I love, I sue,
I ask a Wife; prithee do not laugh at me, aye, I
wou'd have a Woman—A Thing that is like a German
Clock, always repairing—Ever out of
Tune—Yes I am shot—Thumpt with the
Boy's Bird-bolt under the Left Pap—'Faith.—
Will you grant my Petition?
Ros.
What! do all the Fools in Love's Hospital
take me for their Physitian?
Jaques.
I, that have been Love's Whip;—a very
Beadle to a humourous Sigh.
Ros.
But who are you in Love with?
Jaques.
A Woman, I tell you—A whitely Wanton
with a Velvet Brow, with two Pitch Balls stuck
in her Face for Eyes.—I pray, I wish, I interceed,
I petition, will you give me your Consent,
aye, or no.—
Ros.
Who is she?
-- 45 --
Jaques.
Don't you see her in my Face? Is not
her Name in my Forehead already?
Ros.
No really, as yet I think you have a smooth
Brow, [illeg.]her Name, her Name!
Jaques.
The Lady, your Sister, Aliena I think you
call her, the Gentlewoman your Companion and
Friend.
Ros.
With her! why you are utterly undone, she
is as wild as a Feather, with an Understanding as
perverse as a Fool's Jest, or a Child's Wish, Ha,
ha,—how awkwardly it sits upon thee—Is it then
possible that thy solemn Gravity shou'd relax into
Wantonness at last?
Jaques.
Aye! so it is, I do worship, yes I fall
down, I am touch'd in the Liver Vein it seems, and
have learn'd the Trick to turn a Green-Goose into
a Deity—flat Idolatry!—Heaven mend me, I am
much out o'the Way.
Ros.
Aye, go thy Ways, and scourge thy self
with thy own Discipline till thy Shoulders bleed, it
is not my Business to injoin thee a Penance.
Jaques.
Why then give me your Consent to be reveng'd
on me for my Impertinence—Can you
punish me more?
Ros.
Why, Man, thy Sins, tho' they may be many
and great, have hardly merited this Castigation;
if you die of this Folly, you shall have a Stake
thrust thro' you, and be bury'd in the Highway.
Jaques.
I have a Stake thro' me—Here it is—
Shall I have your Consent?
Ros.
Never, St. Cupid be my Witness, never.
Jaques.
Your Reason?
Ros.
You are so rough, it will be impossible to
polish you into a modern Husband.
Jaques.
Why so?
Ros.
Can that inflexible proud Heart of thine
bend and be nealed into a commode, passive, obedient,
necessary, blind, credulous Convenience,
-- 46 --
call'd a Husband? Why you rattle your Chains already
like a raving Lunatic; what will you do,
grave Sir, when you are shut up and shaved?
Jaques.
Do, thrust thy Wit thro' and thro' me,
cut me to Pieces with Satyr, I am an Ass to set up
for a Lover, I confess my self a very Ass in Harness
—I have not one Taffety Phrase, not a
Silken Syllable—Well, Sir, you mean me
well, I thank you, I will try to recover my Liberty,
I will endeavour—If I am cured, and ever
catch the Plague at my Eyes again—Fare you
well.
[Exit Jaques.
Ros.
This Fellow's Reason has brought an Action
against his Love; but it will go for the Defendant I
see—Heigh ho, so it must be.
Enter Orlando and Cælia.
Orl.
My fair Rosalind, I come with all the Speed
I cou'd, and within an Hour of my Promise, as
your fair Sister here will witness.
Ros.
Break an Hour's Promise in Love? He that
will divide a Minute into a thousand Parts, and
break but one Part of the thousandth Part of a Minute
in the Affairs of Love, it may be said of him,
that Cupid hath clap'd him o'the Shoulder; but I will
warrant him Heart whole.
Orl.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Ros.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in
my Sight, I had as lieve be woo'd of a Snale.
Orl.
Of a Snail!
Ros.
Aye, of a Snail; for tho' he comes slowly,
he carries his House on his Head; a better Jointure
I think than you can make a Woman; besides, he
brings his Destiny with him.
Orl.
What's that?
-- 47 --
Ros.
Why Horns; which such as you are fain to
be beholden to your Wives for; but he comes armed
in his Forehead, and prevents the Slander of his
Wife.
Orl.
My Rosalind is virtuous.
Ros.
And I am your Rosalind.
Cæ.
It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a
Rosalind of a better Leer than you.
Ros.
Come woo me, woo me, for now I am in
a Holyday Humour, and like enough to consent;
Am not I your Rosalind?
Orl.
I take some Joy to say you are, because I
wou'd be talking of her.
Ros.
Well, in her Person, I say I will not have
you.
Orl.
I would not have my right Rosalind of this
Mind, for I protest, her Frown might kill me.
Ros.
By this Hand it will not kill a Flie; but
come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming
Disposition, and ask what you will, I will grant
it.
Orl.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Ros.
Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays;
and all.
Orl.
And wilt thou have me?
Ros.
Aye, and twenty such. Come then, Sister,
you shall be the Priest and marry us. Give me
your Hand, Orlando; What do you say, Sister?
Orl.
Prithee marry us.
Cæ.
I cannot say the Words.
Ros.
You must begin, Will you Orlando—
Cæ.
Well then, Will you Orlando have to Wife
this Rosalind?
Orl.
I will.
Ros.
Aye, but how long?
Orl.
For ever and a Day.
-- 48 --
Ros.
Say a Day, without the ever; No, no, Orlando,
Men are April when they woo, December
when they are married; Maids are May when they
are Maids, but the Sky changes when they are
Wives; I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary
Cock-Pidgeon over his Hen, more clamorous than
a Parrot against Rain, more new fangled than an
Ape, more giddy in my Desires than a Monkey;
when you are disposed to be merry, I will weep for
nothing, weep like Diana in the Fountain; and
when you are sad, I will laugh like the Hyæna, and
that too when you are inclined to Sleep.
Orl.
But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros.
By my Life she will do as I do.
Orl.
Oh but she is wise.
Ros.
Or else she cou'd not have the Wit to do this,
the wiser the waywarder, make the Doors fast upon
a Woman's Wit and it will out at the Casement;
shut that, and 'twill away through the Key-hole;
stop that too, and it will fly with the Smoak up the
Chimney.
Orl.
But will you, when you shall see my sweet,
my dear Rosalind, will you be my Voucher that
she ought to give Credit to my Oaths, will you tell
her you know, and are a Witness to the Sincerity
and Ardour of my Love.
Ros.
Oh no—I will tell her no such Thing,
too well I know what Sort of Faith we Men to Women
owe, my Father had a Daughter lov'd a Man;
as it might be, perhaps, were I a Woman, I might
love you.
Orl.
And what is her History?
Ros.
A Blank, she never told her Love, but let
Concealment, like a Worm i'th Bud, feed on her
Damask Cheek; she pined in Thought; and with a
green and yellow Melancholly, she sat like Patience
on a Monument, smiling at Grief—
-- 49 --
Orl.
Alass, poor Maid—Well, my dear Rosalind,
for these two Hours I will leave thee.
Ros.
Alass, dear Love, I cannot be without thee
two Hours.
Orl.
I must attend the Dukes at Dinner; by two a
Clock I will be with thee again.
Ros.
Aye, go your Ways, go your Ways, I knew
what you wou'd 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'the Clock is your Hour.
Orl.
Aye, my sweet Rosalind.
Ros.
By my Troth, and in good earnest, and so
Heav'n 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.
Orl.
With no less Religion, than if thou wer't indeed
my Rosalind—so Adieu.
Ros.
Well—Time is the old Justice that examines
all such Offenders, and let Time try Adieu.
[Exit Orlando.
Cælia and Rosalind.
Cæ.
You have misus'd our Sex in your Love-Prate.
Ros.
Oh Coz, Coz, Coz—my pretty little Coz—
How many Fathom deep are we two in Love? Our
Affections have an unknown Bottom, like the Bay
of Portugal.
Cæ.
I wish they are not rather Bottomless—
that as fast as we pour Affections in they run out
again.
-- 50 --
Ros.
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 Body's Eyes because his own are out, let him
be Judge how deep I am in Love—I will tell thee,
Aliena, I cannot live out of the Sight of Orlando;
I'll go find a Shadow, and Sigh till he returns.
Cæ.
And I will go sleep, sleep peaceably, if Jaques,
alass, does not break in upon my Slumbers.
[Exeunt.
Amiens, Lords, and Foresters.
Amiens.
Which is he that killed the Deer?
Lord.
Sir, it was I.
Amiens.
We will present him to the Duke like a
Roman Conqueror, and it wou'd 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.
Amiens.
Sing it, 'tis no Matter how it is in Tune,
so it makes Noise enough.
Forester sings.
What shall he have that kill'd the Deer?
His leathern Skin, and Horns to wear:
Then sing him Home,
Sing him Home.
[the Burthen by all.]
Take thou no Scorn, to wear the Horn,
It was a Crest e'er thou wer't 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:
Then sing him Home, sing him Home.
[Exeunt.
-- 51 --
Rosalind and Cælia.
Ros.
And yet we hear nothing of Orlando—
How say you, is it not past two a Clock?
Cæ.
I warrant thee he will come with a pure
Heart and a troubled Brain.
Enter Robert du Bois.
Rob.
Good Sir, one Word! I pray you, do you know
Where in the Purlieus of this Forest stands
A Sheepcote fenced about with Olive Trees?
Cæ.
West of this Place down in the Neighbour Bottom,
The Rank of Osiers by the murmuring Stream,
Left on the Right Hand, brings you to the Place;
But at this Hour the House doth keep itself,
There's none within.
Rob.
I think I know you both by your Description,
Such Garments, and such Years; the Boy is fair,
Of Female Favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe Sister: But the Woman
Browner than her Brother. Are not you
The Owners of the House I did inquire for?
Cæ.
We are.
Rob.
Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that Youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody Handkerchief: Are you he?
Ros.
I am! What must we understand by this?
Rob.
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a Promise to return again
Within an Hour; and pacing thro' the Forest,
Chewing the Food of sweet and bitter Fancy,
Lo what befel! he threw his Eye aside,
And mark what Object did present itself,
-- 52 --
Under an old Oak, whose Boughs were moss'd with Age,
And high Top bald with dry Antiquity:
A wretched Man, o'erpower'd with Sleep and Travel,
Lay on his Back, around his naked Neck
A green and gilded Snake had wreath'd itself,
And with indented Glides did slip away
Into a Bush, under whose gloomy Shade
A Lioness, with Udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching Head on Ground, with Cat-like watch
When that the sleeping Man shou'd stir; for 'tis
The Royal Disposition of that Beast
To prey on nothing that does seem as dead;
This seen, Orlando did approach the Man,
And found it was his Brother, his youngest Brother.
Cæ.
Oh! I have heard him speak of that same Brother
With much Concern, and natural Tenderness,
As left behind under the cruel Guardianship
Of his most cruel eldest Brother Oliver.
Ros.
But to Orlando, did he leave him there
Food to the suck'd and hungry Lioness?
Rob.
No, he gave Battle to the furious Beast,
Who quickly fell before him: In the Hurley,
From miserable Slumber I awoke.
Cæ.
Are you his Brother?
Ros.
Was it you he rescued?
Cæ.
We give you Joy, your Brother's Noble Spirit
Appears in every Action of his Life.
Ros.
Oh! my Heart beats;—but, Sir, the
bloody Handkerchief?
Rob.
By and by—
When from the first to last between us two
Tears our Recountments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that Desart Place,
He led me instantly unto his Cave,
There stripped himself, and here upon his Arm
The Lioness had torn some Flesh away,
-- 53 --
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cry'd in fainting upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his Wound,
When 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 Handkerchief,
Dy'd in his Blood, unto the Shepherd-Youth
That he in Sport doth call his Rosalind.
[Ros. swoons into Cælia's Arms.
Cæ.
Why how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!
Rob.
Many will swoon when they but look on Blood.
Cæ.
There is no more in it: Brother Ganymede!
Rob.
Look, he recovers.
Cæ.
I pray you take him by the Arm.
Rob.
Be of good Cheer, Youth;—You a Man!
You lack a Man's Heart.
Ros.
I do so, I confess it;—Ah!—A Body
wou'd think this was well counterfeited: I pray
you tell your Brother how well I counterfeited:
Heigh-ho—
Cæ.
Came you, Sir, from the Court of Frederick
directly.
Rob.
From thence expresly to the banish'd Duke,
And partly, too, to bring Orlando News
Of our unnatural elder Brother's Death,
And of his Lands and antient Patrimony
Descended to him by this Accident.
Ros.
What Accident, I pray you?
Rob.
He died convicted of most foul Designs,
And Charles confess'd, with his last dying Breath,
The Fencer, Charles, whom he in single Combat
Subdued, confess'd, that Oliver practis'd with him;
He was suborn'd by Oliver to impeach
Orlando as a Traitor.—Frederick
Resolv'd to punish him; but he prevented,
-- 54 --
With a despairing Hand, the Sword of Justice,
And fell a Martyr to his own Misdoings.
Cæ.
We hide our Deeds from Heav'n, as Children do
Their Eyes from Daylight, and because we see not,
Believe we walk unseen.
Ros.
Come, Sir, this Story feeds your Melancholly,
You shall retire and take within our Cottage
What small Refreshment there you'll find.
Rob.
I pray you first inform me, gentle Sir,
Where in the Confines of this Forest dwells
Our good Alberto, with his banish'd Nobles,
I have some Business there, of such Import,
No Minutes shou'd be lost.
Ros.
—Then but a Minute,
And we'll conduct you to the good Duke's Cave.
Rob.
I thank you, and will follow.
Ros.
This Way, Sir,—Wee will attend you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Orl.
As yet your Fever does not intermit, but
what will become of you in the cold Fit.
Jaques.
I shall take the Jesuit's Bark of Matrimony.
Orl.
A Specifick.
Jaques.
I have had much Bustle with my Heart to
little Purpose; prithee ask him, this Ganymede, thou
hast an Interest there, ask his Consent, the Woman
has agreed—We want his Approbation only.
Orl.
And you persist—
Jaques.
I will die a Martyr to my Folly.
Orl.
Enough, I will engage your Brother Ganymede,
and your Wedding shall be to Morrow; thither
will I invite the Duke and all his contented
-- 55 --
Followers, go you and prepare Aliena, for look
you here comes my Rosalind.
[Exit Jaques.
Enter Rosalind.
Ros.
Oh my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to
see thee wear thy Arm in a Scarfe. Did your Brother
tell you how I counterfeited Fainting, when he
shewed me the Handkerchief.
Orl.
Aye, and greater Wonders than that: But
I have engaged you to consent that your Sister, and
Senior Jaques may have Leave legally to go to Bed
together.
Ros.
Aliena has my Approbation; in a Word,
the good People are in the very Wrath of Love and
they will together whether I will or no, Clubs cannot
part 'em—
Orl.
They shall be marry'd to Morrow, and I
will bid the Duke to their Nuptials. But oh how
bitter a Thing it is to look into Happiness through
another Man's Eyes; by so much the more shall I to
Morrow be the heavier in my Heart, by how much
I shall think my Friend Jaques happy, in having
what he wishes for.
Ros.
Why then, to Morrow, I cannot serve your
Turn for Rosalind.
Orl.
I can live no longer by thinking.
Ros.
Know then that since I was seven Years old
I have conversed with a Magitian, most profound in
his Art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind,
and so near the Heart as you say, when
Jaques marries Aliena, you shall marry her; I
know into what Streights of Fortune she is driven,
and it is not impossible to me, if it is not inconvenient
to you, to set her before your Eyes to Morrow;
human as she is and without any Danger.
Orl.
Speakest thou in sober Meaning?
-- 56 --
Ros.
By my Life I do, which I tender dearly,
tho' I say I am a Magitian; therefore put on your
best Looks, for if you will be married to Morrow
you shall, and to Rosalind if you will. Look ye,
here comes another Pair of Lovers, even the captivated
Jaques, and his Conquerour.
Enter Jaques and Cælia.
Cæ.
Good Shepherd, tell us what it is to Love?
Ros.
It is to be made all of Sighs and Tears.
It is to be all made of Fantasy,
All made of Passion, and all made of Wishes.
All Adoration, Duty, and Observance.
Jaques.
And so am I for Aliena.
Cæ.
And I for Jaques.
Orl.
And I for Rosalind.
Ros.
And I for no Woman. Pray you no more of
this, 'tis like the howling of Wolves against the
Moon, to Morrow you agree to meet me, all together,
before the Duke; if he will give his Approbation,
you shall be marry'd to Morrow; I will content
you, Orlando, if what pleases you contents
you, and you shall be marry'd to Morrow; as you
love Rosalind, meet, as you love Cælia, meet, as
you love Jaques, meet, and as I love no Woman I
will meet. So fare you well, I have left you my
Commands.
Cæ.
I will not fail, if I live.
Jaques.
Nor I.
Orl.
Nor I.
The End of the Fourth ACT.
-- 57 --
The Fifth ACT.
Duke Alberto, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Cælia.
Duke.
Doest thou believe, Orlando, that the Boy,
This little, prating, buisy Ganymede,
Can do all this that he hath promised.
Orl.
I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not.
Enter Rosalind.
Ros.
Patience once more, while our Compact is urged,
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind
[to the Duke.
You will bestow her on Orlando here.
Duke.
That would I, had I Kingdoms to give with her.
Ros.
And you say, you will have her when I bring her.
Orl.
That wou'd I, were I of all Kingdoms King;
Tho' to have her and Death were equal both.
Ros.
Well! I engage to make these Matters even,
Keep you your Word, O Duke, to give your Daughter;
You yours, Orlando, to recieve his Daughter;
Keep you your Word that you will marry Jaques,
And you, that you, with Transport, will recieve her;
And hence I go to make these Doubts all even
In half the Circle but of sixty Minutes.
[Exit Ros. and Cælia.
-- 58 --
Duke.
I do remember in this Sheepherd Boy,
Some lively Touches of my Daughter's Favour.
Orl.
My Liege, 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
And hath been tutor'd in the Rudiments
Of many desperate Studies, by his Uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian
Obscured within the Circle of this Forest.
Duke.
Come, now what Entertainment shall we have
To waste this half an Age, this long half Hour,
When Ganymede has promis'd to perform
These Miracles of Love.
Jaques.
A Play there is, my Liege, some ten Words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a Play;
But by ten Words, my Lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious: For in all the Play
There is not one Word apt, one Player fitted,
And tragical, my noble Lord, it is:
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself;
Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine Eyes Water; but more merry Tears
The Passion of loud Laughter never shed.
Duke.
What are they that do play it?
Jaques.
Some Citizens of Liege, who from pure Hearts
And loyal Love have follow'd your bad Fortune,
Who never labour'd in their Minds till now,
And they design at least to entertain.
Duke.
I'll hear this Play, nothing can be amiss:
Simplicity and Duty make it grateful.
Where I have come, great Clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated Welcomes;
And I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make Periods in the midst of Sentences,
-- 59 --
Throttle their practis'd Accents in their Fears,
And in Conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a Welcome. Trust me, Friends,
Out of this Silence, yet I pick'd a Welcome,
And in the Modesty of fearful Duty
I read much more than from the rattling Tongues
Of sawcy and audacious Eloquence.
Jaques.
So please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.
Duke.
Let him approach.
Enter Quince as Prologue, speaking very fast and without Stops.
Quince.
If we offend it is with our Good Will
That you shou'd think we come not to offend
But with Good Will to shew our Simple Skill
That is the true Beginning of our End
Consider then we come but in Despight
We do not come as minding to content you
Our true Intent is all for your Delight
We are not here that you shou'd here repent you
The Actors are at Hand and by their Show
You shall know all that you are like to know.
Duke.
This Fellow doth not stand upon Points.
Jaques.
He hath rid his Prologue like a rough
Colt: He knows not to stop; a Good Moral, Sir; it
is not enough to speak, but to speak true.
Duke.
He hath play'd on his Prologue, like a
Child on the Recorder, a Sound, but not in Government.
Jaques.
His Speech was like a tangled Chain; nothing
impaired, but all disorder'd. Who is the
next?
-- 60 --
Enter Wall.
Wall.
In this same Interlude it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by Name) present a Wall;
And such a Wall, as I wou'd have you think,
That had in it a crannied Hole, or Chink;
Thro' which the Lovers Pyramus and Thisby
Did whisper often very secretly.
This Loam, this Rough-cast, and this Stone doth show
That I am that same Wall; the Truth is so.
And this the Cranny is, righ, and sinister,
Thro' which the fearful Lovers are to whisper.
Duke.
Wou'd you desire Lime and Hair to speak
better?
Orl.
This is the wittiest Partition that ever I
heard Discourse.
Duke.
See Pyramus, I suppose; he draws near.
Silence.
Enter Pyramus.
Pyr.
O grim look'd Night! O Night with hue so black!
O Night which ever art, when Day is not!
O Night, O Night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby's Promise is forgot:
And thou, O Wall, thou sweet and lovely Wall,
Shew me thy Chink to blink thro' with mine Ey'n.
Thanks, courteous Wall; Jove shield thee well for this.
But what see I?—No Thisby do I see.
O wicked Wall, thro' whom I see no Bliss,
Curss'd be thy Stones for thus deceiving me.
Duke.
The Wall methinks, being sensible, shou'd
curse again.
-- 61 --
Pyr.
No, in Truth Sir, but he shou'd not, deceiving
me, aye that is Thisby's Cue; she is to enter,
and I am to spy her thro' the Wall: You shall see
it will happen just as I tell you: Yonder she comes.
Enter Thisby.
Thisby.
O Wall! full often hast thou heard my Moans
For parting my fair Pyramus and me;
My Cherry Lips hath often kiss'd thy Stones,
Thy Stones with Lime and Hair knit up in thee.
Pyr.
I see a Voice; now will I to the Chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's Face—Thisby—
Thisby.
My Love thou art, my Love I think.
Pyr.
Think what thou wilt, I am thy Lover's Grace,
And like Limandar am I trusty still.
Thisby.
And I like Helen till the Fates me kill.
Pyr.
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
Thisby.
As Shafalus to Procrus I to you.
Pyr.
O kiss me thro' the Hole of this vile Wall.
Thisby.
I kiss the Wall's Hole, not your Lips at all.
Pyr.
Wilt thou at Ninny's Tomb meet me strait way?
Thisby.
Tide Life, Tide Death, I come without Delay.
[Exeunt Pyr. and Thisby.
Wall.
Thus have I, Wall, my Part discharged so,
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
[Exit Wall.
Orl.
This is the silliest Stuff that ever I heard.
Duke.
The best in this Kind are but Shadows, and
the worst are no worse, if Imagination amend them.
Orl.
And yet if we imagine no worse of them
than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent
Men. Here come two noble Beasts in a Man
and a Lion.
-- 62 --
Enter Lion and Moonshine.
Lion.
You, Ladies, you (whose gentle Hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous Mouse that creeps on Floor)
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
When Lion rough in wildest Rage doth roar.
Then know that I one Snug the Joiner am,
No Lion fell, nor yet no Lion's Dam:
For if I shou'd as Lion come in Strife
Into this Place, 'twere Pity of my Life.
Duke.
A very good Beast, and of a good Conscience.
Jaques.
The very best at a Beast that ever I saw.
Orl.
This Lion is a very Fox for his Valour.
Jaques.
And a Goose for his Discretion.
Moon.
This Lanthorn does the horned Moon present.
Jaques.
He shou'd have worn the Horns on his
Head.
Moon.
This Lanthorn does the horned Moon present,
Myself the Man i'th' Moon doth seem to be.
Duke.
I am weary of this Moon already, wou'd
he wou'd change; however, proceed, Moon.
Moon.
Why all that I have to say is to tell you, that
the Lanthorn is the Moon, I the Man in the Moon,
this Thorn-bush my Thorn-bush, and this Dog my
Dog.
-- 63 --
Duke.
Why all these shou'd be in the Lanthorn;
for they are in the Moon: But Silence; here comes
Thisby.
Enter Thisby.
Thisby.
This is old Ninny's Tomb, where is my
Love?
Lion. (Roars.)
Oh
[Lion roars, and Thisby runs off and leaves her Mantle behind.
Orl.
Well roar'd, Lion.
Duke.
Well run, Thisby.
Jaques.
Well shone, Moon.
Enter Pyramus.
Pyr.
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy Sunny Beams,
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright,
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering Streams,
I trust to taste of truest Thisby's Sight.
But stay: O Spight! but mark poor Knight,
What dreadful Dole is here?
Eyes do you see! How can it be!
O dainty Duck: O Deer!
Thy Mantle good, What! stain'd with Blood!
Approach you Furies fell:
O Fates! Come, come; cut Thread and Thrum,
Quail, Crush, Conclude and Quell.
Duke.
This Passion, and the Death of a dear
Friend wou'd go near to make a Man look sad.
Pyr.
O, wherefore Nature didst thou Lions frame!
Since Lion wild hath here deflowr'd my Dear,
Which is: No, no, which was the fairest Dame
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with Cheer:
-- 64 --
Come Tears confound: Out Sword, and wound
The Pap of Py—ramus:
I, that left Pap, where Heart doth hop:
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead, now am I fled, my Soul is in the Sky;
Tongue lose thy Light, Moon take thy Flight,
Now die, die, die, die, die.
Duke.
With the Help of a Surgeon he might yet
recover and prove an Ass.
Orl.
How chance the Moonshine is gone before
Thisby comes back and finds her Lover.
Duke.
She will find him by Star-Light; and her
Passion and Speech end the Play.
Orl.
Methinks she shou'd not use a long one for
such a Pyramus, I hope she will be brief.
Enter Thisby.
Thisby.
A sleep, my Love? What dead my Dove! O Pyramus, arise:
Speak: Speak! Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A Tomb must cover my sweet Eyes.
These Lilly Lips, this Cherry Nose, these yellow Cowslip Cheeks,
Are gone; are gone: Lovers make moan, his Eyes were green as Leaks,
O Sisters three, Come, come to me, with Hands as pale as Milk;
Lay him in Gore, since you have shore, with Sheers, this Thread of Silk.
Tongue not a Word, come trusty Sword, come Blade my Breast imbrue;
And farewel Friends, thus Thisby ends; Adieu, Adieu, Adieu.
-- 65 --
Duke.
Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the
Dead.
Orl.
Aye, and Wall too.
Pyr. (rising)
No, I assure you, the Wall is down
that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see
the Epilogue?
Duke.
No Epilogue, I pray you, for your Play
needs no Excuse, when the Players are all dead
there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that
wrote it had play'd Pyramus and hung himself in
Thisby's Garter, it wou'd have been a fine Tragedy:
And so it is truly, and very notably discharged—
No more scraping, but vanish. Look yonder, Orlando,
your young Magitian is performing his Promise
in Form, I see, here they come, Music too.
Let us attend them.
Soft Music; Enter Hymen with his Torch, &c. introducing Rosalind in Woman's Cloaths and Cælia
Hymen.
Then is there Mirth in Heaven,
When Earthly Things made even,
Accord together.
Good Duke, recieve thy Daughter,
Hymen from Heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither,
That thou might'st join her Hand with his,
Whose Heart within his Bosom is.
Ros. (to the Duke)
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
(to Orlando)
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
Duke.
If there be Truth in Sight, you are my Daughter.
-- 66 --
Orl.
If there be Truth in Sight, you are my Rosalind.
Ros.
I'll have no Father if thou be not he.
I'll have no Husband if thou be not he.
Hymen.
Peace ho! I bar Confusion:
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange Events.
Here are four that must take Hands,
To joyn in Hymen's Bands,
If Truth holds true contents,
You and you no Cross shall part;
You and you are Heart in Heart:
While our Dancers tread a Ring,
Feed yourselves with questioning:
That Reason Wonder may diminish
How we met, and these Things finish.
Duke to Cælia.
Oh my dear Niece, welcome thou art to me;
Even, Daughter, welcome in no less Degree.
Enter Robert du Bois.
Rob.
Let me have Audience for a Word or two,
I am the youngest Son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring good Tidings to this fair Assembly:
Duke Frederick, hearing how from Day to 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 Enterprize, and from the World,
His Crown bequeathing to his banish'd Brother;
And all their Lands restor'd to them again
That were with him exiled. This to be true
I do engage my Life.
-- 67 --
Duke.
—Welcome young Man,
Thou offer'st fairly to thy Brother's Wedding;
To one his Lands withheld, and to the other
A Land itself at large, a potent Dukedom.
First in this Forest let us do those Ends
That here were well begun and well begot:
And after, all of this most happy Number
Shall share the good of our returned Fortune
According to the Measure of their States:
Mean Time forget this new fall'n Dignity,
And fall into our rustick Revelry.
A DANCE.
Duke.
Now let us solemnly compleat those Rites,
Which we do trust will end in true Delights. |
