Jaques behind, observing them.
Touch.
Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up
your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the
man yet? Doth my simple feature content you?
Aud.
Your features? Lord warrant us! what features?
Touch.
I am here with thee and thy goats, as the
most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the
Goths.
-- 61 --
Jaq. [Aside.]
O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than
Jove in a thatch'd house6 note!
Touch.
When a man's verses cannot be understood,
nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child,
understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great
reckoning in a little room.—Truly, I would the gods
had made thee poetical.
Aud.
I do not know what poetical is. Is it honest
in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?
Touch.
No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most
feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what
they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers they do
feign.
Aud.
Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me
poetical?
Touch.
I do, truly; for thou swear'st to me, thou
art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have
some hope thou didst feign.
Aud.
Would you not have me honest?
Touch.
No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for
honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to
sugar.
Jaq. [Aside.]
A material fool.
Aud.
Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the
gods make me honest!
Touch.
Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul
slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Aud.
I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am
foul.
Touch.
Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness:
sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may
be, I will marry thee; and to that end, I have been
with Sir Oliver Mar-text7 note, the vicar of the next village,
-- 62 --
who hath promised to meet me in this place of the
forest, and to couple us.
Jaq. [Aside.]
I would fain see this meeting.
Aud.
Well, the gods give us joy!
Touch.
Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful
heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no
temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts.
But what though? Courage! As horns are odious,
they are necessary. It is said,—many a man knows
no end of his goods: right; many a man has good
horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the
dowry of his wife: 'tis none of his own getting. Horns?
Even so:—Poor men alone?—No, no; the noblest
deer hath them as huge as the rascal 11Q03448 note. Is the single
man therefore blessed? No: as a wall'd town is more
worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married
man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor;
and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so
much is a horn more precious than to want.
Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text.
Here comes Sir Oliver.—Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are
well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or
shall we go with you to your chapel?
Sir Oli.
Is there none here to give the woman?
Touch.
I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir Oli.
Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is
not lawful.
Jaq. [coming forward.]
Proceed, proceed: I'll give
her.
Touch.
Good even, good Mr. What-ye-call't: how
do you, sir? You are very well met: God'ild you9 note for
your last company. I am very glad to see you:—even
a toy in hand here, sir.—Nay; pray, be cover'd.
Jaq.
Will you be married, motley?
-- 63 --
Touch.
As the ox hath his bow1 note, sir, the horse his
curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires;
and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
Jaq.
And will you, being a man of your breeding,
be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to
church, and have a good priest that can tell you what
marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as
they join wainscot; then, one of you will prove a shrunk
pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.
Touch.
I am not in the mind, but I were better to
be married of him than of another; for he is not like
to marry me well, and not being well married, it will
be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.
Jaq.
Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Touch.
Come, sweet Audrey2 note:
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good master Oliver! Not
O sweet Oliver!
O brave Oliver!
Leave me not behind thee:
But wind away3 note,
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee. 11Q0345
[Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey.
Sir Oli.
'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of
them all shall flout me out of my calling.
[Exit.
-- 64 --
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
