Rosalind.
Jaq.
I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better note acquainted
with thee.
Ros.
They say, you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
Ros.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable
fellows; and betray themselves to every modern
censure, worse than drunkards.
Jaq.
Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros.
Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
Jaq.
I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which
is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical;
nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's,
which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick;
nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is
all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded
of many simples, extracted from many objects, and,
indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which
my often note rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
-- 66 --
Ros.
A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason
to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands, to
see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have
nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.
Jaq.
Yes, I have gain'd my experience note.
Enter Orlando.
Ros.
And your experience makes you sad: I had rather
have a fool to make me merry, than experience to
make me sad; and to travel for it too.
Orl.
Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!
Jaq.
Nay note then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank
verse.
[Exit Jaques.
Ros.
Farewel, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and
wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own
country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost
chide God for making you that countenance you are;
or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.—
Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this
while? You a lover? An you serve me such another trick,
never come in my sight more.
Orl.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my
promise.
Ros.
Break an hour's promise in love? He that will
divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a
part of the thousandth note 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'll 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 lief be woo'd of a snail.
Orl.
Of a snail?
Ros.
Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he
-- 67 --
carries his house on his head; a better jointure, I think,
than you make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny
with him.
Orl.
What's that?
Ros.
Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be
beholding to your wives for: but he comes note armed in his
fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife.
Orl.
Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is
virtuous.
Ros.
And I am your Rosalind.
Cel.
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
holiday humour, and like enough to consent:—What
would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind.
Orl.
I would kiss, before I spoke.
Ros.
Nay note, you were better speak first; and when you
were gravel'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion
to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they
will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us!) matter,
the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
Orl.
How if the kiss be deny'd?
Ros.
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins
new matter.
Orl.
Who could be out, being before his beloved
mistress?
Ros.
Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress;
or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
Orl.
What, of my suit?
Ros.
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your
suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
-- 68 --
Orl.
I take some joy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her.
Ros.
Well, in her person, I say—I will not have you.
Orl.
Then, in mine own person, I die. note
Ros.
No, 'faith, die by attorney. The poor world is
almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there
was not any man dy'd in his own person, videlicet, in a
love cause. Troilus had his brains note dash'd out with a Grecian
club; yet he did what he could to die before; and
he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have
liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd nun, if
it had not been for a hot midsummer night: for, good
youth, he went but forth to wash him in note the Hellespont,
and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and
the foolish chroniclers note14Q0324 of that age found it was Hero of
Sestos. note But these are all lies; men have dy'd from time
to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
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 fly: But come,
now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition;
and ask me 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.
Ay, and twenty such.
Orl.
What sayest thou?
Ros.
Are you not good?
Orl.
I hope so.
Ros.
Why then, can one desire too much of a good
thing?—Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry
-- 69 --
us:—Give me your hand, Orlando:—What do you
say, sister?
Orl.
Pray thee, marry us.
Cel.
I cannot say the words.
Ros.
You must begin, Will you, Orlando,—
Cel.
Go to:—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this
Rosalind?
Orl.
I will.
Ros.
Ay, but when?
Orl.
Why, now; as fast as she can marry us.
Ros.
Then you must say,—I take thee, Rosalind, for
wife.
Orl.
I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
Ros.
I might ask you for your commission; but, I do
take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There's a girl goes
before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs
before her actions.
Orl.
So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.
Ros.
Now tell me, how long you would have her,
after you have possess'd her?
Orl.
For ever, and a day.
Ros.
Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando;
men are April when they woo, December when they
wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky
changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of
thee than a Barbary cock-pidgeon over his hen; more
clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangl'd
than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey:
I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and
I will do that when you are dispos'd to be merry; I
will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd
to sleep. note
-- 70 --
Orl.
But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros.
By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl.
O, but she is wise.
Ros.
Or else she could 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 out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with
the smoke out at the chimney.
Orl.
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he
might say,—Wit, whither wilt?
Ros.
Nay, you might keep that check for it, 'till you
met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.
Orl.
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
Ros.
Marry, to say,—she came to seek you there:
you shall never take her without her answer, unless you
take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot
make her fault her husband's occasion,14Q0325 let her never
nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a
fool. note
Orl.
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
Ros.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.
Orl.
I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock
I will be with thee again.
Ros.
Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what
you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I
thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours won me:
'tis but one cast away; and so,—come, death: Two o'clock
is your hour?
Orl.
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ros.
By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God
mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous,
if you break one jot of your promise, or come one
-- 71 --
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 wert indeed
my Rosalind: So, adieu.
Ros.
Well, time is the old justice that examines all
such offenders, and let time try: Adieu.
[Exit Orlando.
Cel.
You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate:
we must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over
your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done
to her own nest.
Ros.
O coz', coz', coz', my pretty little coz', that
thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love!
But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown
bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
Cel.
Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour
affection in, it runs note out.
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 one's
eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how
deep I am in love:—I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be
out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow, and
sigh 'till he come.
Cel.
And I'll sleep.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The same.
Enter Jaques, and Others, Foresters.14Q0326
Jaq.
Which is he that kill'd the deer?
-- 72 --
1. F.
Sir, it was I.
Jaq.
Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman
conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns
upon his head, for a branch of victory:—Have you no
song, forester, for this purpose?
2. F.
Yes, sir.
Jaq.
Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it
make noise enough.
SONG.
1. V.
What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?
2. V.
His leather skin, and horns to wear.
1. V.
Then sing him home:—
both.
Take thou no scorn
to wear the horn, the lusty horn;
it was a crest ere thou wast born:—
1. V.
Thy father's father wore it;
2. V.
And thy father bore it:—
cho.
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The same.
Enter Rosalind, and Celia.
Ros.
How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock?
and how much note Orlando comes?
Cel.
I warrant you, with pure love, and troubl'd
brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone
forth—to sleep: Look, who comes here?
Enter Silvius.
Sil.
My errand is to you, fair youth;—
My gentle Phebe bid me note give you this:
[gives a Letter.
-- 73 --
I know note not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenure; note pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Ros.
Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud; and, that she could not love me
Were man as rare as phœnix: Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: note
Why writes she so to me?—Well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.
Sil.
No, I protest, I know not the contents;
Phebe did write it.
Ros.
Come, come, you are a fool,
And turn'd into14Q0327 the note extremity of love.
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, note but 'twas her hands;
She has a huswife's hand: but that's no matter:
I say, she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention, and his hand.
Sil.
Sure, it is hers.
Ros.
Why, 'tis a boist'rous and a cruel stile,
A stile for challengers; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian: woman's note gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance:—Will you hear the letter?
Sil.
So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
-- 74 --
Ros.
She Phebe's me: Mark how the tyrant writes.
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?—
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil.
Call you this railing?
Ros.
Why, thy godhead lay'd apart,
War'st thou with a woman's heart?—
Did you ever hear such railing?—
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.—
Meaning me a beast.—
If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move?
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I'll study how to die.
Sil.
Call you this chiding?
Cel.
Alas, poor shepherd!
Ros.
Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.—
Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an
instrument, and play false strains upon note thee! not to be
endur'd. Well, go your way to her, (for, I see, love hath
made thee a tame snake) and say this to her;—That, if
-- 75 --
she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not,
I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her. If you
be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes
more company.
[Exit Silvius.
Enter Oliver.
Oli.
Good morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you know,
Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?
Cel.
West of this place,14Q0328 down in the neighbour bottom, note
The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,
Left on your right hand, brings note you to the place:
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
There's none within.
Oli.
If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description;
Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: but the note woman low,
And browner than her brother: Are not you
The owner note of the house I did enquire for?
Cel.
It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are.
Oli.
Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin; Are you he?
Ros.
I am: What must we understand by this?
Oli.
Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was stain'd.
Cel.
I pray you, tell it.
Oli.
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour;14Q0329 and, pacing through the forest,
-- 76 --
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
And, mark, what object did present itself!
Under an oak note, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The op'ning of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's note shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast,
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel.
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd 'mongst note men.
Oli.
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
Ros.
But, to Orlando; Did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
Oli.
Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so:
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
-- 77 --
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked. note
Cel.
Are you his brother?
Ros.
Was it note you he rescu'd?
Cel.
Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
Oli.
'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tasts, being the thing I am.
Ros.
But, for the bloody napkin?
Oli.
By and by.
When from the first to last,14Q0330 betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd:
As how I came into that desert place;
&dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3; &dagger3;
&dagger3; &dagger3;
In brief note, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There strip'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
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;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this † napkin,
Dy'd in his note blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Cel.
Why, how now, Ganimed? sweet Ganimed?
Oli.
Many will swoon, when they do look on blood.
-- 78 --
Cel.
There is more in it;—14Q0331 Cousin Ganimed!
Oli.
Look, he recovers.
Ros.
I would, I were at home.
Cel.
We'll lead you thither:—
I pray you, will you take him by the arm.
Oli.
Be of good cheer, youth: You a man? you lack
a man's heart.
Ros.
I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a note body would
think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell your
brother how well I counterfeited.—Heigh ho!
Oli.
This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony
in your complexion, that it was a passion note of earnest.
Ros.
Counterfeit, I assure you.
Oli.
Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit
to be a man.
Ros.
So I do: but, i'faith, I should have been a woman
by right.
Cel.
Come, you look paler and paler; pray you,
draw homewards:—Good sir, go with us.
Oli.
That will I, for I must bear answer back
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
Ros.
I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend
my counterfeiting to him: 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].
