Clown.
Cor.
And how like you this shepherd's life, Mr.
Touchstone?
Clo.
Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good
life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is
naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well;
but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.
Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well;
but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it
is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as
there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my
stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
Cor.
No more, but that I know, the more one sickens,
the worse at ease he is: and that he that wants money,
-- 43 --
means, and content, is without three good friends:
That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn:
That good pasture makes fat sheep: and that a great
cause of the night, is lack of the sun: That he that hath
learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good
breeding,14Q0311 or comes of a very dull kindred.
Clo.
Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever
in court, shepherd?
Cor.
No, truly.
Clo.
Then thou art damn'd.
Cor.
Nay, I hope,—
Clo.
Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill-roasted egg,
all on one side.
Cor.
For not being at court? Your reason.
Clo.
Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never
saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners,
then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is
sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a par'lous state,
shepherd.
Cor.
Not a whit, Mr. Touchstone: those that are good
manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country,
as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the
court. You told me, you salute not at the court, but you
kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if
courtiers were shepherds.
Clo.
Instance, briefly; come, instance.
Cor.
Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their
fells, you know, are greasy.
Clo.
Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and
is not the grease of a mutton note as wholsome as the sweat
of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance, I say;
come.
-- 44 --
Cor.
Besides, our hands are hard:
Clo.
Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow
again: A more sounder instance; come.
Cor.
And they are often tar'd over with the surgery
of our sheep; And would you have us kiss tar? The
courtier's note hands are perfum'd with civet.
Clo.
Most shallow man! Thou worm's meat in respect
of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise,
and perpend: Civet is of a baser birth than tar; the very
uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
Cor.
You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.
Clo.
Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow
man! God make incision in thee!14Q0312 thou art raw.
Cor.
Sir; I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat,
get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness;
glad of other men's good, content with my harm:
and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze,
and my lambs suck.
Clo.
That is another simple sin in you; to bring the
ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your
living by the copulation of cattle: to be bawd to a bell-weather;
and to betray a she-lamb of a twelve month to
a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable
match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil
himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how
thou should'st scape.
Cor.
Here comes young Mr. Ganimed, my new mistress's
brother.
Enter Rosalind, with a Paper, reading.
Ros.
From the east to western Inde,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
-- 45 --
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest limn'd, note
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind,
But the face of note Rosalind.
Clo.
I'll rime you so, eight years together; dinners,
and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right
butter-women's rank to market.
Ros.
Out, fool!
Clo.
For a taste:—
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind;
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find,
Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do you infect
yourself with them?
Ros.
Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree.
Clo.
Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Ros.
I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it
with a medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i' the
country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and
that's the right virtue of the medler.
Clo.
You have said; but whether wisely, or no, let note
-- 46 --
the forest judge.
Enter Celia, with a Paper.
Ros.
Peace!
Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
Cel.
Why should this a desart be?
For it is unpeopl'd? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend:
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;
Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence note of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart note;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest priz'd.
-- 47 --
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.
Ros.
O most gentle Jupiter, what a tedious homily
of love have you weary'd your parishioners withal, and
never cry'd, Have patience, good people!
Cel.
How now! back friends?—Shepherd, go off a
little:—Go with him, sirrah.
Clo.
Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat;
though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip
and scripage.
[Exeunt Corin, and Clown.
Cel.
Did'st thou hear these verses?
Ros.
O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for
some of them had in them more feet than the verses
would bear.
Cel.
That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
Ros.
Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear
themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely
in the verse.
Cel.
But did'st thou hear, without wond'ring how
thy name should be hang'd and carved upon these trees?
Ros.
I was seven14Q0313 of the nine days out of wonder note,
before you came; for look † here what I found on a
palm tree: I was never so be-rim'd since Pythagoras'
time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel.
Trow you who hath done this?
Ros.
Is it a man?
Cel.
Ay, and a chain, that you once wore, about his
neck: Change you colour?
Ros.
I pr'ythee, who?
Cel.
O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to
-- 48 --
meet but mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes,
and so encounter.
Ros.
Nay, but who is it?
Cel.
Is it possible?
Ros.
Nay, I pray thee note now, with most petitionary
vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel.
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out
of all hooping!
Ros.
Od's my note complexion!14Q0314 dost thou think, though
I am caparison'd like a man, that I have a doublet and
hose note in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a
south-sea-off note discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it?
quickly, and speak apace: I would thou could'st stammer,
that thou might'st pour this conceal'd man out of
thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle;
either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee,
take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy
tidings.
Cel.
So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros.
Is he of God's making? What manner of man?
Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?
Cel.
Nay, he hath but a little beard.
Ros.
Why, God will send more, if the man will be
thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou
delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel.
It is young Orlando; that tript up the wrestler's
heels, and your heart, both in an instant.
Ros.
Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad
brow, and true maid.
Cel.
I'faith, coz', 'tis he.
Ros.
Orlando?
-- 49 --
Cel.
Orlando.
Ros.
Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet
and hose?—What did he, when thou saw'st him? What
said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes
he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How
parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again?
Answer me in one word.
Cel.
You must borrow me Gargantua's note mouth first;
'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size:
To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than
to answer in a catechism.
Ros.
But doth he know that I am in this forest, and
in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day
he wrestl'd? note
Cel.
It is as easy to count atomies, 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 a tree, like a drop'd acorn.
Ros.
It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops
such note note fruit.14Q0315
Cel.
Give me audience, good madam.
Ros.
Proceed.
Cel.
There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded
knight.
Ros.
Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground.
Cel.
Cry, hola, to thy tongue note, I pr'ythee; it curvets
unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
Ros.
O ominous! he comes to kill my hart.
Cel.
I would sing my song without a burthen: thou
bring'st me out of tune.
Ros.
Do you not know I am a woman? when I think,
-- 50 --
I must speak. Sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando, and Jaques.
Cel.
You bring me out:—Soft! comes he not here?
Ros.
'Tis he; Slink by, and note him.
[retiring.
Jaq.
I thank you for your company; but, good faith,
I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orl.
And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank
you too for your society.
Jaq.
God be wi'you; let's meet as little as we can.
Orl.
I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq.
I pray you, mar no more trees with writing
love-songs in their barks.
Orl.
I pray you, mar no more of note my verses with
reading them ill-favour'dly.
Jaq.
Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl.
Yes, just.
Jaq.
I do not like her name.
Orl.
There was no thought of pleasing you, when
she was christen'd.
Jaq.
What stature is she of?
Orl.
Just as high as my heart.
Jaq.
You are full of pretty answers: Have you not
been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and con'd them
out of rings?
Orl.
Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth,14Q0316
from whence you have study'd your questions note.
Jaq.
You have a nimble wit; I think, 'twas made of
Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me; and we
two will rail against our mistress, the world, and all our
misery.
Orl.
I will chide no breather in the world, but myself;
against whom I know most faults. note
-- 51 --
Jaq.
The worst fault you have is, to be in love.
Orl.
'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue.
I am weary of you.
Jaq.
By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I
found you.
Orl.
He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and
you shall see him.
Jaq.
There I shall see mine own figure.
Orl.
Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.
Jaq.
I will tarry no longer with you: farewel, good
signior love.
Orl.
I am glad of your departure: adieu, good monsieur
melancholy.
[Exit Jaques.
&clquo;Ros.
&clquo;I will speak to him [to Cel.] like a saucy
lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with
him.&crquo; Do you hear, forester?
[advances.
Orl.
Very well; What would you?
Ros.
I pray you, what is't o'clock?
Orl.
You should ask me, what time o'day; there's
no clock in the forest.
Ros.
Then there is no true lover in the forest; else
sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would
detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock.
Orl.
And why not the swift foot of time? had not
that been as proper?
Ros.
By no means, sir; Time travels in divers paces
with divers persons: I'll tell you who time ambles withal,
who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and
who he stands still withal.
Orl.
I pr'ythee, whom doth note he trot withal?
Ros.
Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between
the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd:
-- 52 --
if the interim be but a se'night, time's pace
is so hard that it seems the length of seven year.
Orl.
Who ambles time withal?
Ros.
With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man
that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily, because
he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he
feels no pain: the one lacking the burthen of lean and
wastful learning; the other knowing no burthen of heavy
tedious penury: These time ambles withal.
Orl.
Whom doth note he gallop withal?
Ros.
With a thief to the gallows: for though he go
as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon
there.
Orl.
Who stays note it still withal?
Ros.
With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep
between term and term, and then they perceive not how
time moves.
Orl.
Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Ros.
With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the
skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Orl.
Are you native of this place?
Ros.
As the coney, that you see dwell where she is
kindl'd.
Orl.
Your accent is something finer than you could
purchase in so removed 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 in-land man; one that knew courtship
too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard
him read many lectures note against it; and I thank God I
am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences
as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
-- 53 --
Orl.
Can you remember any of the principal evils,
that he lay'd to the charge of women?
Ros.
There were none principal; they were all like
one another, as half-pence are: every one fault seeming
monstrous, 'till his fellow fault came to match it.
Orl.
I pr'ythee, recount some of them.
Ros.
No; I will not cast away my physick, but on
those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest,
that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on
their barks; hangs odes upon hauthorns, and elegies on
brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind:
if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him
some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian
of love upon him.
Orl.
I am he that is so love-shak'd; I pray you, tell
me your remedy.
Ros.
There is none of my uncle's marks upon you:
he taught me how to know a man in love; in which
cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner.
Orl.
What were his marks?
Ros.
A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye,
and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable
spirit; which you have not: a beard neglected; which
you have not:—but I pardon you for that; for, simply,
your having in beard note is a younger brother's revenue:
Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded,
your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe unty'd, 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 would I could make thee believe
-- 54 --
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 the
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 admired?
Orl.
I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
Ros.
But are you so much in love as your rimes speak?
Orl.
Neither rime 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 madmen do:
and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured
is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippers are
in love too: Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
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 would I, being but a moonish
youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing,
and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant,
full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something,
and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women
are for the most part cattle of this colour: would now
like him, now loath him; then entertain him, then forswear
him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I
drave my 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 monastick:
-- 55 --
And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take
upon me to wash your liver as clear as note a sound sheep's
heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't.
Orl.
I would not be cur'd, youth.
Ros.
I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind,
and come every day to my cote, and woo me.
Orl.
Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me
where it is.
Ros.
Go with me to it, and I'll shew 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, you must call me Rosalind:—Come, sister,
will you go?
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
