William Michael Rossetti William Shakespeare.

The complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography online

. (page 47 of 224)
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my friends no wrung, tor I Li we ^/ii^^^MJ^}^^
Digitized by VjOOV? LC

160 AB YOU

me; the world no injarjf for in it I have nothing ;
only in the world I fill up a place which inaj be
better supplied when I have made it empty.

£o8. The little strength that I bare, I would it
were with you.

CeL And mine, to eke out hers.

Hot. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be
deceived in you!

CeL Your heart's desires be with you.

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is
60 desirous to lie with his mother earth ?

Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a more
modest working.

DukeK You shall try but one foil.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace ; you shall not
entreat him to a second, that have so mightily
persuaded him from a first.

OrL You mean to mock me after; you should
not have mocked me before : but come your ways.

Bos. Now, Hercules be th^ speed, young man!

Cd. I would I were invisible, to catch the
strong fellow by the leg.

[Charles and Oruutdo wrestle.

Bos. O excellent young man!

Cd. If I had a thundeibolt in mine eye, I can
tell who should down.

[Charles is iltrown, SJiout.

Duke F. No more, no more.

OtL Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not yet
well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Chailes?

Le Be(m. He cannot speak, my lord.

Duke F. Bear him away. [CnxKLEBisbomeotU.
What is thy name, young man ?

OrL Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir
Rowland de Bois. [else.

Uuke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man
The world esteem'd thy father honourable.
But I did find him still mine enemy: [deed

Thou shouldst have better pleased roe with this
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth ;
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exaint Duke, Fred., Tram, aiul Le Beau.

CeL Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

OrL I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son ; — and would not change that

To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Bos. 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 Ills son,
I should kave given him teais unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventured.

Cd. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him :
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.— Sir, you have well deservU ;
If you do keep your promises in love
But justly as you have exceeded all promise.
Your mistress shall be happy.

Bos» Qentleman,

[Owing him a cJiainfrom her neck.
Wear this for me, — one out of suits with fortune,
That could give more but that her bauds lacks
Shall we go, coz? [means.

Cd, Ay : — Fare you well, fair gentleman.

OrL Can I not say I thank you? My better parts
Are all thrown down ; and that which hei'e stands up
b but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

i2of. lie calls us back : My pride fell with my
fortunes :
111 aak liim what he would ^-Did you call, sir?—


Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More tlian your enemies.

CeL Will you go, oor?

Bos. Have with you j— Fare you well.

[Exeunt Rosaund and Ceua
OrL What passion hangs these weights upon mj
I cannot speak to her, yet she nrg'd conference.

Be-enter Lb Beau.

poor Orlando I thou art overthrown ;

Or Charles, or something weaker, ma-sters thee.

Le Beau. Qood sir, I do in friendship counsel yon
To leave this place : Albeit you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the duke's condition.
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous ; what he is, indeed.
More suits you to conceive, than I to speak of.

OrL 1 thank you, sir; and,prayvou,tellmetbii.
Which of the two was daughter of the duke
That here was at the wrestling? [manners

Le Beau. N«4ther his daughter, if we judge b>
But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter :
The other is daughter to the banish "d duke.
And here detain a by her usurping uncle.
To keep his daughter company ; whose lovei
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of Ute this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle nieoe;
Grounded upon no other argnaicnt
But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake ;
And, on my life, his malice 'gaiust the lady
Will suddenly break forth.— Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world tlian this,

1 shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

OrL Irestmuchboundentoyou: fare you well!
[Exit Le Bead.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : —
But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit

SCENE III.— il Boom in the Palace,
Enter Celia and Rosaund.

CeL Why, cousin ; why, Rosalind ; — Cupid have
mercy !— not a word ?

Bos. Not one to throw at a dog.

CiL No, thy words are too precious to be cast
away upon curs; throw some of thun at me:
come, lame me with reasons.

Bos. Then there were two cousins laid up:
when the one should be lamed with reasons, and
the other mad without any.

CeL But is all this for your father ?

Bos. No, some of it is for mv father s child ; 0,
how full of briars is this workfrg-day world I

CeU They are but burs, cou!>in, thrown upoa
thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the
trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Boa. I could shake them off my coat; these
burs are in my heart.

CeL Hem them awa^. [him.

Bos. I would try; if^I could cry hem, and have

CeL Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
Bos. O, they take the part of a better wrestler
tlian myself.

CeL 0, a ^ood wish upon you! you will try to
time, in despite of a fall. — But, turning these j&sts
out of service, let us talk in good earnest: U it
possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so
strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest sou^
o * Digitized by * ^ IC


Soi, The duke my father loved his Either dear I y .

Cd. DoUi it therefore ensue that you should
love his son dearly? Bj this kind of chase, I
should hate him, for mj father hated his father
dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando.

Eos, MOf 'fiutli, hate him not, for my sake.

OeL Why should I not? doth he not deserve

Hot. Let me love him for that ; and do yon love
him, because I do : — Look, here comes the duke.

OeL With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke Frbdebiok, with Lords.

DuieF. Mistress, despatch you with yoornfest
And get yon from our court.

Bos. Me, uncle?

Duie F, You, cousm :

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

£os. 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 mine own desire.
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic
(As I do trust I am not), then, dear uncle,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke F, Thus do all traitors ;

If their purgation did consist in words,
The^ are as innocent as grace itself:
Let It suffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Bos, Yet your mistrust cannot make meatraitor :
Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke F, Thou art thy father's daughter, there's

jBos, So was I when your highness took his
Bo was I when jour highness banish'd him ;
Treason is not mherited, my lord ;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my fatlier was no traitor:
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.

CeL Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke F, Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake,
Else had she with her father rai\g'd along.

CeL 1 did not then entreat to have her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;
I was too young that time to value hor.
Bat now I know her : if slie be a traitor.
Why, so am I; we still have slept together.
Rose at an instant, learn d, p1ay*d, eat together ;
Aud wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,

Still we went coupled, and inseparable.
- * ■ * for tl


DvkeF, She is too subtle tor thee; and her

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
l^ou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ;
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;

LUCE IT. 151

Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which X have pass'd upon her ; she is banished.

CeL Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
I cannot live out of her company.

DvkeF. You are a fool:— You, nieee, provid*
If you outstay the time* upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke Fbed. and Lords.

Od. my poor Rosalind I whither wilt thou ^?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will p^ve thee mine.
I charge thee, be thou not more gnevVl than I am.

Ros. Ihave more cause.

CeL Thou hast not, cousin ;

Prithee, be oheerlul ; know'st thou not the duke
Hath banish'd me, his daughter?

Bos, That he hath not

CeL No ? hath not? Rosalmd lacks then the
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :
Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl?
No ; let my father seek another neir.
Therefore devise with me how we may 6y,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us :
And do not seek to take your change upon you.
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, bv this heaven, now at our sorrows (Mile,
Say what thou canst, 111 go along with thee.

Mos. Why, whither sliall we go ?

Cd. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden

Bos. Alas, what danger will it be to us.
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

CeL 1 11 put myself in poor and mean attire.
And with a kind of umber smirch my face,
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Bos. Were it not better,

Because that T am more than common tall.
That I did suit me all points like a man ?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand ; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashhig and a martial outside ;
As many other mannish cowards have.
That do outface it with their semblances.

Cd. What .^hall 1 call thee when thou art a man?

Bos. I'll liave no worse a name than Jove's own
And therefore look you call me Ganymede, [page.
But what will vou oe call'd?

Cd. Something that hath a reference to ray
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Bos. But, cousin, what if we essayed to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?

Cd. Hell go along o'er the wide world with mo ;
Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away.
And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my Hijjht : Now go in we content.
To liberty, and not to banishment. [Rxeunt

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SCENE h-^The Forest <i/'Aiden,

Snicr Duke aenior^ Amiens, and other Lords, mi
the drees qf Foresters.

Duke S. Now, my oo-mates, and brothers in exile,
Hath not old castom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious oourt?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam.
The seasons* difference, — as, the icj fimg.
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which when it bites and blows npNon my body.
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say
This is no flattery,— these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are me uses of adversity ;
Which, like the toad, ugly ana venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt frora public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks.
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Ami, I would not change it: Happy is your grace,
That can translate tha stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke 8. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, —
Being native burghers of this dosert city,—
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads,
Have theifr round haunches gor'd.

I Ijord, Indeed, my lord.

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ;
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish 'd yon.
To-day, my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antiaue root peep^ out
Upon the brook that brawis along this wood :
To the which place a poor sequestered stag,
That from the hunters* aim had ta en a hurv.
Did come to languish : and, indeed, rov lord.
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans.
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous dmse : and thus the hairy fool.
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge ot the swift brook.
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke S, But what said Jaques ?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1 Lord, O yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream ;
** Poor deiT," mioth he, " thou mak*st a testament
As wordlings ao, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much." Then being there

Left and abanaon*d of his velvet friend:
***T is right," quoth he; " tluw misery doth part
The flux of company : " Anon, a careless herd.
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet lum ; ** Ay, quoth Jaqneii
** Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
T is just the fashion : Wherefore do vou look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? '*
Thus most mveotively he pieroeth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Tea, and of this our life : swearing, that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what 's worse,
T« fright the animals, and to kill them up,
In their assigned and native dwelling-pUioe.

Duke S, And did you leave hun in this oontem
plation ? [menting

2 Lord, We did. my lord, weeping and com-
Upon the sobbing deer.

Duke S, Show me the place :

I love to cope him ui these sullen fits.
For then he *s full of matter.
2 Lord, T 11 bring you to him straight,


SCENE 11.—^ lioom th the Palace.

Enter Duke Frbderick, Lords, and Attendants.

Duke F, Can it be possible that no man saw
It cannot be : some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.

1 Lord, 1 cannot hear of any that did see her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber.
Saw her arbed ; and, in the morning early.
They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.

2 Lord, My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Tour gi-ace was wont to* laugh, b also missing.
Hesperia, the princess* gentlewoman,
Contesses, that she secretly o*eriieard

Tour daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company. [hither;
Lhtke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant
Jf he be absent, brin^ his brother to me,
I'll make him find him : do this suddenly ;
And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolisti runaways. [Exeunt

SCENE lll,^Btfore Oliver^ Bouse,

Enter Oblando and Adam, meeting.

(W. Who's there? [master,

Adam. What I my young master I — O, my gentle
O, mv sweet master, 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 would you be so fond to overcome
The bony priser of the humorous duke?
Tour praise is come too swiftly home berore yoo.
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 sanctified and holy traitors to you.
(), what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms liim that bears it I
Orl Why, what's the matter?
Adam, O unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors ; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives :
Tour brother— (no, no brother ; yet the son—
Tet not the son ; I will not call him son^
Of him I was about to call his father) —
Hath heard your praise ; and this night he means
To bum the lod^ng where jou use to lie,
And you within it : if he fail of that.
He will have other means to cut you off:
I overheard hun and his practices.
This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, (ear it, do not enter it [me go?

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have
Adam, No mattar whither, so you come not hure.

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(M. >^hat, woaldst thou have me go nnd beg
m V food ?
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
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 1 c;in ;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Ufa diverted blood, and bloodv brother.

.^<fam. But do not so: I have oveliund red crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in comers 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 yon: Let me be your servant ;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ;
For in my vonth I never did applv
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood :
Mot did not with unl]^xhful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility ;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
rU do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

OrL good old man ; how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not f r meed I
Thou art not for the fasnion of these times.
Where none will sweat, hue for promotion ;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: it b not so with tlice.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blosisom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:
But come thy ways, well go along together:
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
Well 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 lived 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 recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master'is debtor.

[£^.rf unt.

SCENE IV.— 7^ Forat of Arden.

Jfitftfr KoSAUND, in hoy's clothes^ Ceua drestedliU
a Shpfitrdess, and Touchstone.

Jto$. O Jupiter I how merry are my spirits I

Touch, I care not for my spirits, if my legs were
not weary.

Hog. 1 could find in my heart to disgrace my
nun's apiMTcl, and to cry like a woman: but T mu^r
comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose
ought to show itself courageous to a petticat;
therefore, courage, good A liena. [further.

CeL I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no

Thueh, For my part, I had rather bear with you,
than bear you : yet I should bear no cross, if 1 did
bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your

/fo0. Well, this is the forest of Ardcn.

TbucA. Ay, now am I in Arden : the more fool
I, when I was at home I was in a better place ;
bnt travel !er«? must be content

Ho8. Ay. be so, pood Touchstone:— Look you,
#ho comes hare ; a young man, and an old, in
•olemn talk.

LIKE IT. 163

Enttr CORIN and Bilyiub.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn vou still
SiL O Corui, that thou knew 'st how I do love her I
Cor. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now.
'Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not friiess;
Though in thy you'h thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow :
Rut if thy love u^re ever like to mine
(As sure I think did never man love so),
ilow many actions most ridiculous
Jlast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?
Cor. Into a thousand that 1 have forgotten.
SU. O, thou didst then never love so heartily
If thou remember 'st not the slightest folly
I'hat ever love did make thee run into,
llion hast not lov'd :
Or if tliou hast not sat as I do now.
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd :
Or if thou liast not bi oke from company
Abruptly, as my passion n<iw makes me.
Thou hast not lov'd: Phebe, Thebe, Phebel

Hoi. Alas, poor shepherd I aearching of thy
I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Touch. And I mine : I remember when 1 was
in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid
him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile :
and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the
cow's dugs that her pretty choj^ped hands hid
milked: and I remember tlie woomg of a ueascod
instead of her; from whom I took two coas, and,
'giving her them ngain, said, with weeping te^irs,
" Wear these f«)r my sake." We, that are true
lovers, run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal
in nature, so is all nature m love mortal in fully.

J{o8. Thou speak st wiser tlian thou art 'ware of.

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own
wit, till I break my shins against it.

£o8. Jovel Jove! this i-liei)herd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale
with me.

Cd, I pray you, one of you question yond man,
If he for gold will give us any food ;
I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla ; you clown !

£os. Peace, foul ; he ^ not thy kinsman.

Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ilo8. Peace, 1 say : — (iood even to you, friend.

Cor. And to you, gcntje sir, and to you all. ^

Bos. I prithee, shepherd, if that love, or gol^
Can in this des<'rt ph'.ce buy entertainment.
Bring us wl ere we may rest ourselves, and feed :
Here 's a young maid with travel much oppressed,
And faints for succour.

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,

And wish for her sake, more than for mine own.
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am shepherd to another man.
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze;
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little recks to find the way to heaven
Uy doing deeds of hospitality:
resides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
Aje now on sale, and at our sheepcotu now,
Bv reason of his absence, there is notliing
Ttiat yon will feed on ; hat what is, come see,
And iin my Toioe, most welcome shuli you be

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164 AS YOU

£oa. What U be that shall hnj his flock and

pasture? [erewhile,

Cor, That young swain that you saw here but

That little cares for bupring anything.

Eos. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, aud the tiock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

CeL And we will mend thy wages : I like this
And willingly oould waste m^ time in it.
Cor, Assuredly, the thing is to be sold:
Ck> with me; if you like, upon report.
The soU, the profit, and thb kind of life,
I will your yerv faithful feeder be.
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

SCENE Y.^ The same,
EiUer Amiehs, Jaqubs, and oihtn,
A lid, Under the greenwood t ree.
Who loves to He with me,
And tune hi> merry note
Unto the sweet biriVs tliroat.
Ctomo hither, corae hither, come hither ;
Here ahKll he see
Ko enemy.
But winter uid rough weather.
Jaq.^ More, more, I prithee, more.
Ami, It will make you melancholy, Monsieur

Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can
suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks
eggs : More, I prithee, more.

And, My voice is ragged; I know I cannot
please you.

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire
you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; call
yon *em stanzas ?
And, What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaq, Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe
me nothing: Will you sing?
And, More at your request than to please myself.
Jaq, Well then, if ever I thank any man 111
thank you : but that they call compliment is like
the encounter of two dog-apes ; and when a man
Ihanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a
penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks.
Come, sing; and you that will not hold your

And, Well, 111 end the song.— Sirs, cover the
while; the duke will drink under this tree : — he
bath been all this day to look ^ou.

Jaq, And I have been all this day to avoid him.
He is too disputable for my company : I think of


And, What 'sth»t due AfffMf

Jaq, 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into
a circle. I'll go sleep if 1 can; if I cannot, I'll

Online LibraryWilliam Michael Rossetti William ShakespeareThe complete works of Shakespeare: With a critical biography → online text (page 47 of 224)