Chapter XXIII: Part 23

Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?
Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,
And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds
That the old Carlot once was Master of

Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him, 'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well, But what care I for words? yet words do well When he that speakes them pleases those that heare: It is a pretty youth, not very prettie, But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him; Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp: He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall: His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty rednesse in his lip, A little riper, and more lustie red Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske. There be some women Siluius, had they markt him In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere To fall in loue with him: but for my part I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him, For what had he to doe to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke, And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me: I maruell why I answer'd not againe, But that's all one: omittance is no quittance: Ile write to him a very tanting Letter, And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius? Sil. Phebe, with all my heart

Phe. Ile write it strait: The matter's in my head, and in my heart, I will be bitter with him, and passing short; Goe with me Siluius.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.

Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted
with thee

Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow

Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne censure, worse then drunkards

Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing

Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste

Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation: nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall; nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is politick: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded of many simples, extracted from many obiects, and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadnesse

Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands, to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands

Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.
Enter Orlando.

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to make me sad, and to trauaile for it too

Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind

Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke
verse

Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you lispe, and weare strange suites; disable all the benefits of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue swam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight more

Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my
promise

Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapt him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole

Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind

Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my
sight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile

Orl. Of a Snaile? Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee carries his house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke then you make a woman: besides, he brings his destinie with him

Orl. What's that?
Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholding
to your wiues for: but he comes armed in his
fortune, and preuents the slander of his wife

Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is
vertuous

Ros. And I am your Rosalind

Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind
of a better leere then you

Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie Rosalind? Orl. I would kisse before I spoke

Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take occasion to kisse: verie good Orators when they are out, they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse

Orl. How if the kisse be denide?
Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins
new matter

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued
Mistris?
Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris,
or I should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit

Orl. What, of my suite?
Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your
suite:
Am not I your Rosalind?
Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her

Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you

Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die

Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is almost six thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in a loue cause: Troilous had his braines dash'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before, and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for (good youth) he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd, and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not for loue

Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind,
for I protest her frowne might kill me

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and aske me what you will, I will grant it

Orl. Then loue me Rosalind

Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all

Orl. And wilt thou haue me?
Ros. I, and twentie such

Orl. What saiest thou?
Ros. Are you not good?
Orl. I hope so

Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing: Come sister, you shall be the Priest, and marrie vs: giue me your hand Orlando: What doe you say sister? Orl. Pray thee marrie vs

Cel. I cannot say the words

Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando

Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?
Orl. I will

Ros. I, but when?
Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs

Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for
wife

Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife

Ros. I might aske you for your Commission, But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans thought runs before her actions

Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd

Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after
you haue possest her?
Orl. For euer, and a day

Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed: Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky changes when they are wiues: I will bee more iealous of thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a monkey: I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Fountaine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry: I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to sleepe

Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?
Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe

Orl. O but she is wise

Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans wit, and it will out at the casement: shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the smoake out at the chimney

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
say, wit whether wil't?
Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you
met your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed

Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that? Rosa. Marry to say, she came to seeke you there: you shall neuer take her without her answer, vnlesse you take her without her tongue: o that woman that cannot make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse her childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole

Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee

Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres

Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock
I will be with thee againe

Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I thought no lesse: that flattering tongue of yours wonne me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two o' clocke is your howre

Orl. I, sweet Rosalind

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dangerous, if you breake one iot of your promise, or come one minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the most patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer, and the most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may bee chosen out of the grosse band of the vnfaithfull: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise

Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed
my Rosalind: so adieu

Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: adieu. Enter.

Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate: we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her owne neast

Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne bottome, like the Bay of Portugall

Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure
affection in, it runs out

Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge, how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and sigh till he come

Cel. And Ile sleepe.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.

Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?
Lord. Sir, it was I

Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you no song Forrester for this purpose? Lord. Yes Sir

Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it
make noyse enough.

Musicke, Song.

What shall he haue that kild the Deare? His Leather skin, and hornes to weare: Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen; Take thou no scorne to weare the horne, It was a crest ere thou wast borne, Thy fathers father wore it, And thy father bore it, The horne, the horne, the lusty horne, Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?
And heere much Orlando

Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,
Enter Siluius.

He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth To sleepe: looke who comes heere

Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth, My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this: I know not the contents, but as I guesse By the sterne brow, and waspish action Which she did vse, as she was writing of it, It beares an angry tenure; pardon me, I am but as a guiltlesse messenger

Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter, And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all: Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners, She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will, Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt, Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well, This is a Letter of your owne deuice

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,
Phebe did write it

Ros. Come, come, you are a foole, And turn'd into the extremity of loue. I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand, A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinke That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands: She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter: I say she neuer did inuent this letter, This is a mans inuention, and his hand

Sil. Sure it is hers

Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile, A stile for challengers: why, she defies me, Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle braine Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention, Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Then in their countenance: will you heare the letter? Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet: Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie

Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.

Read.

Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd? That a maidens heart hath burn'd. Can a woman raile thus? Sil. Call you this railing? Ros.

Read.

Why, thy godhead laid a part, War'st thou with a womans heart? Did you euer heare such railing? Whiles the eye of man did wooe me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast. If the scorne of your bright eine Haue power to raise such loue in mine, Alacke, in me, what strange effect Would they worke in milde aspect? Whiles you chid me, I did loue, How then might your praiers moue? He that brings this loue to thee, Little knowes this Loue in me: And by him seale vp thy minde, Whether that thy youth and kinde Will the faithfull offer take Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my loue denie, And then Ile studie how to die

Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas poore Shepheard

Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.

Exit. Sil.

Enter Oliuer.

Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know) Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, stands A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom The ranke of Oziers, by the murmuring streame Left on your right hand, brings you to the place: But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe, 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 yeeres: the boy is faire, Of femall fauour, and bestowes himselfe Like a ripe sister: the woman low And browner then her brother: are not you The owner 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 hee calls his Rosalind, He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he? Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this? Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkercher was stain'd

Cel. I pray you tell it

Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to returne againe Within an houre, and pacing through the Forrest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie, Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside, And marke what obiect did present it selfe Vnder an old Oake, whose bows were moss'd with age And high top, bald with drie antiquitie: A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire Lay sleeping on his back; about his necke A greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe, Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth: but sodainly Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe, And with indented glides, did slip away Into a bush, vnder which bushes shade A Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie, Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch When that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tis The royall disposition of that beast To prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead: This seene, Orlando did approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother

Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother, And he did render him the most vnnaturall That liu'd amongst men

Oli. And well he might so doe,
For well I know he was vnnaturall

Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there Food to the suck'd and hungry Lyonnesse? Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so: But kindnesse, nobler euer then reuenge, And Nature stronger then his iust occasion, Made him giue battell to the Lyonnesse: Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling From miserable slumber I awaked

Cel. Are you his brother?
Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?
Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?
Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conuersion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am

Ros. But for the bloody napkin? Oli. By and by: When from the first to last betwixt vs two, Teares our recountments had most kindely bath'd, As how I came into that Desert place. In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke, Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment, Committing me vnto my brothers loue, Who led me instantly vnto his Caue, There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme The Lyonnesse had torne some flesh away, Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cride in fainting vpon Rosalinde. Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp 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 giue this napkin Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard 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 bloud

Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed

Oli. Looke, he recouers

Ros. I would I were at home

Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:
I pray you will you take him by the arme

Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?
You lacke a mans heart

Ros. I doe so, I confesse it: Ah, sirra, a body would thinke 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 of earnest

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to
be a man

Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a woman
by right

Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw
homewards: good sir, goe with vs

Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backe
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind

Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commend
my counterfeiting to him: will you goe?

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clowne and Awdrie.

Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentle
Awdrie

Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the
olde gentlemans saying

Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vile Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the Forrest layes claime to you

Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee in the world: here comes the man you meane. Enter William.

Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold

Will. Good eu'n Audrey

Aud. God ye good eu'n William

Will. And good eu'n to you Sir

Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer
thy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd. How olde are you
Friend?
Will. Fiue and twentie Sir

Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?
Will. William, sir

Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?
Will. I sir, I thanke God

Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:
Art rich?
Will. 'Faith sir, so, so

Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:
and yet it is not, it is but so, so:
Art thou wise?
Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit

Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philosopher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid? Will. I do sir

Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?
Will. No sir

Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out of a cup into a glasse, by filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent, that ipse is hee: now you are not ipse, for I am he

Will. Which he sir? Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the societie: which in the boorish, is companie, of this female: which in the common, is woman: which together, is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne thou perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or (to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyson with thee, or in bastinado, or in steele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with policie: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble and depart

Aud. Do good William

Will. God rest you merry sir.

Exit

Enter Corin.

Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away,
away

Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend,
I attend.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Orlando & Oliuer.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should loue her? And louing woo? and wooing, she should graunt? And will you perseuer to enioy her? Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the pouertie of her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing, nor sodaine consenting: but say with mee, I loue Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee; consent with both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere liue and die a Shepherd. Enter Rosalind.

Orl. You haue my consent. Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I Inuite the Duke, and all's contented followers: Go you, and prepare Aliena; for looke you, Heere comes my Rosalinde

Ros. God saue you brother

Ol. And you faire sister

Ros. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to see
thee weare thy heart in a scarfe

Orl. It is my arme

Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with
the clawes of a Lion

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted
to sound, when he shew'd me your handkercher?
Orl. I, and greater wonders then that

Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there was neuer any thing so sodaine, but the sight of two Rammes, and Cesars Thrasonicall bragge of I came, saw, and ouercome. For your brother, and my sister, no sooner met, but they look'd: no sooner look'd, but they lou'd; no sooner lou'd, but they sigh'd: no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one another the reason: no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedie: and in these degrees, haue they made a paire of staires to marriage, which they will climbe incontinent, or else bee incontinent before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of loue, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part them

Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing it is, to looke into happines through another mans eies: by so much the more shall I to morrow be at the height of heart heauinesse, by how much I shal thinke my brother happie, in hauing what he wishes for

Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot serue your turne
for Rosalind?
Orl. I can liue no longer by thinking

Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then (for now I speake to some purpose) that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit: I speake not this, that you should beare a good opinion of my knowledge: insomuch (I say) I know you are: neither do I labor for a greater esteeme then may in some little measure draw a beleefe from you, to do your selfe good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I haue since I was three yeare old conuerst with a Magitian, most profound in his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue Rosalinde so neere the hart, as your gesture cries it out: when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marrie her. I know into what straights of Fortune she is driuen, and it is not impossible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you, to set her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is, and without any danger

Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meanings? Ros. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though I say I am a Magitian: Therefore put you in your best aray, bid your friends: for if you will be married to morrow, you shall: and to Rosalind if you will. Enter Siluius & Phebe.

Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers

Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse,
To shew the letter that I writ to you

Ros. I care not if I haue: it is my studie To seeme despightfull and vngentle to you: you are there followed by a faithful shepheard, Looke vpon him, loue him: he worships you

Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue
Sil. It is to be all made of sighes and teares,
And so am I for Phebe

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and seruice,
And so am I for Phebe

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasie, All made of passion, and all made of wishes, All adoration, dutie, and obseruance, All humblenesse, all patience, and impatience, All puritie, all triall, all obseruance: And so am I for Phebe

Phe. And so am I for Ganimed

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind

Ros. And so am I for no woman

Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
Ros. Why do you speake too, Why blame you mee
to loue you

Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare

Ros. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish Wolues against the Moone: I will helpe you if I can: I would loue you if I could: To morrow meet me altogether: I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie Woman, and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you, if euer I satisfi'd man, and you shall bee married to morrow. I wil content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shal be married to morrow: As you loue Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no woman, Ile meet: so fare you wel: I haue left you commands

Sil. Ile not faile, if I liue

Phe. Nor I

Orl. Nor I.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Clo. To morrow is the ioyfull day Audrey, to morow
will we be married

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of y world? Heere come two of the banish'd Dukes Pages. Enter two Pages.

1.Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman

Clo. By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song

2.Pa. We are for you, sit i'th middle

1.Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the onely prologues to a bad voice

2.Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two
gipsies on a horse.

Song.

It was a Louer, and his lasse, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o're the greene corne feild did passe, In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time. When Birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet Louers loue the spring, And therefore take the present time. With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino, For loue is crowned with the prime. In spring time, &c. Betweene the acres of the Rie, With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino: These prettie Country folks would lie. In spring time, &c. This Carroll they began that houre, With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino: How that a life was but a Flower, In spring time, &c

Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no
great matter in the dittie, yet y note was very vntunable
1.Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we lost not
our time

Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to heare such a foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your voices. Come Audrie.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke Senior, Amyens, Iaques, Orlando, Oliuer, Celia.

Du.Sen. Dost thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and somtimes do not, As those that feare they hope, and know they feare. Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe.

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our co[m]pact is vrg'd:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalinde,
You wil bestow her on Orlando heere?
Du.Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir

Ros. And you say you wil haue her, when I bring hir?
Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdomes King

Ros. You say, you'l marrie me, if I be willing

Phe. That will I, should I die the houre after

Ros. But if you do refuse to marrie me,
You'l giue your selfe to this most faithfull Shepheard

Phe. So is the bargaine

Ros. You say that you'l haue Phebe if she will

Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one
thing

Ros. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen: Keepe you your word, O Duke, to giue your daughter, You yours Orlando, to receiue his daughter: Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me, Or else refusing me to wed this shepheard: Keepe your word Siluius, that you'l marrie her If she refuse me, and from hence I go To make these doubts all euen.

Exit Ros. and Celia.

Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepheard boy,
Some liuely touches of my daughters fauour

Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him, Me thought he was a brother to your daughter: But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne, And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies, by his vnckle, Whom he reports to be a great Magitian. Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Obscured in the circle of this Forrest

Iaq. There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre of verie strange beasts, which in all tongues, are call'd Fooles

Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all

Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome: This is the Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue so often met in the Forrest: he hath bin a Courtier he sweares

Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my purgation, I haue trod a measure, I haue flattred a Lady, I haue bin politicke with my friend, smooth with mine enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had foure quarrels, and like to haue fought one

Iaq. And how was that tane vp?
Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon
the seuenth cause

Iaq. How seuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this
fellow

Du.Se. I like him very well

Clo. God'ild you sir, I desire you of the like: I presse in heere sir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatiues to sweare, and to forsweare, according as mariage binds and blood breakes: a poore virgin sir, an il-fauor'd thing sir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honestie dwels like a miser sir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oyster

Du.Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious
Clo. According to the fooles bolt sir, and such dulcet
diseases

Iaq. But for the seuenth cause. How did you finde the quarrell on the seuenth cause? Clo. Vpon a lye, seuen times remoued: (beare your bodie more seeming Audry) as thus sir: I did dislike the cut of a certaine Courtiers beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I sent him word againe, it was not well cut, he wold send me word he cut it to please himselfe: this is call'd the quip modest. If againe, it was not well cut, he disabled my iudgment: this is called, the reply churlish. If againe it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true: this is call'd the reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold say, I lie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelsome: and so to lye circumstantiall, and the lye direct

Iaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Clo. I durst go no further then the lye circumstantial: nor he durst not giue me the lye direct: and so wee measur'd swords, and parted

Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of
the lye

Clo. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you haue bookes for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous: the second, the Quip-modest: the third, the reply Churlish: the fourth, the Reproofe valiant: the fift, the Counterchecke quarrelsome: the sixt, the Lye with circumstance: the seauenth, the Lye direct: all these you may auoyd, but the Lye direct: and you may auoide that too, with an If. I knew when seuen Iustices could not take vp a Quarrell, but when the parties were met themselues, one of them thought but of an If; as if you saide so, then I saide so: and they shooke hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is the onely peace-maker: much vertue in if

Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good
at any thing, and yet a foole

Du.Se. He vses his folly like a stalking-horse, and vnder the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.

Still Musicke.

Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen, When earthly things made eauen attone together. Good Duke receiue thy daughter, Hymen from Heauen brought her, Yea brought her hether. That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his, Whose heart within his bosome is

Ros. To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours.
To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours

Du.Se. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind

Phe. If sight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu
Ros. Ile haue no Father, if you be not he:
Ile haue no Husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not shee

Hy. Peace hoa: I barre confusion, 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange euents: Here's eight that must take hands, To ioyne in Hymens bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you, no crosse shall part; You and you, are hart in hart: You, to his loue must accord, Or haue a Woman to your Lord. You and you, are sure together, As the Winter to fowle Weather: Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we sing, Feede your selues with questioning: That reason, wonder may diminish How thus we met, and these things finish.

Song.

Wedding is great Iunos crowne, O blessed bond of boord and bed: 'Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne, High wedlock then be honored: Honor, high honor and renowne To Hymen, God of euerie Towne

Du.Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me,
Euen daughter welcome, in no lesse degree

Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine, Thy faith, my fancie to thee doth combine. Enter Second Brother.

2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two: I am the second sonne of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this faire assembly. Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day Men of great worth resorted to this forrest, Addrest a mightie power, which were on foote In his owne conduct, purposely to take His brother heere, and put him to the sword: And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came; Where, meeting with an old Religious man, After some question with him, was conuerted Both from his enterprize, and from the world: His crowne bequeathing to his banish'd Brother, And all their Lands restor'd to him againe That were with him exil'd. This to be true, I do engage my life

Du.Se. Welcome yong man: Thou offer'st fairely to thy brothers wedding: To one his lands with-held, and to the other A land it selfe at large, a potent Dukedome. First, in this Forrest, let vs do those ends That heere were well begun, and wel begot: And after, euery of this happie number That haue endur'd shrew'd daies, and nights with vs, Shal share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie, And fall into our Rusticke Reuelrie: Play Musicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all, With measure heap'd in ioy, to'th Measures fall

Iaq. Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a Religious life, And throwne into neglect the pompous Court

2.Bro. He hath

Iaq. To him will I: out of these conuertites, There is much matter to be heard, and learn'd: you to your former Honor, I bequeath your patience, and your vertue, well deserues it. you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit: you to your land, and loue, and great allies: you to a long, and well-deserued bed: And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage Is but for two moneths victuall'd: So to your pleasures, I am for other, then for dancing meazures

Du.Se. Stay, Iaques, stay

Iaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would haue, Ile stay to know, at your abandon'd caue. Enter.

Du.Se. Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights,
As we do trust, they'l end in true delights.

Exit

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the Ladie the Epilogue: but it is no more vnhandsome, then to see the Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needes no Epilogue. Yet to good wine they do vse good bushes: and good playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues: What a case am I in then, that am neither a good Epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalfe of a good play? I am not furnish'd like a Begger, therefore to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure you, and Ile begin with the Women. I charge you (O women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much of this Play, as please you: And I charge you (O men) for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your simpring, none of you hates them) that betweene you, and the women, the play may please. If I were a Woman, I would kisse as many of you as had beards that pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defi'de not: And I am sure, as many as haue good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind offer, when I make curt'sie, bid me farewell. Enter.

FINIS. As you Like it.

The Taming of the Shrew

Actus primus. Scaena Prima.

Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.

Begger. Ile pheeze you infaith

Host. A paire of stockes you rogue

Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst?
Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S[aint]. Ieronimie, goe to thy
cold bed, and warme thee

Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-borough

Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, Ile answere him by Law. Ile not budge an inch boy: Let him come, and kindly.

Falles asleepe.

Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds, Brach Meriman, the poore Curre is imbost, And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach, Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good At the hedge corner, in the couldest fault, I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound

Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord, He cried vpon it at the meerest losse, And twice to day pick'd out the dullest sent, Trust me, I take him for the better dogge

Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete, I would esteeme him worth a dozen such: But sup them well, and looke vnto them all, To morrow I intend to hunt againe

Hunts. I will my Lord

Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth
he breath?
2.Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd
with Ale, this were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly

Lord. Oh monstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes. Grim death, how foule and loathsome is thine image: Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed, Wrap'd in sweet cloathes: Rings put vpon his fingers: A most delicious banquet by his bed, And braue attendants neere him when he wakes, Would not the begger then forget himselfe? 1.Hun. Beleeue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose

2.H. It would seem strange vnto him when he wak'd Lord. Euen as a flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie. Then take him vp, and manage well the iest: Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters, And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging sweete: Procure me Musicke readie when he wakes, To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound: And if he chance to speake, be readie straight (And with a lowe submissiue reuerence) Say, what is it your Honor wil command: Let one attend him with a siluer Bason Full of Rose-water, and bestrew'd with Flowers, Another beare the Ewer: the third a Diaper, And say wilt please your Lordship coole your hands. Some one be readie with a costly suite, And aske him what apparrel he will weare: Another tell him of his Hounds and Horse, And that his Ladie mournes at his disease, Perswade him that he hath bin Lunaticke, And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames, For he is nothing but a mightie Lord: This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs, It wil be pastime passing excellent, If it be husbanded with modestie

1.Hunts. My Lord I warrant you we wil play our part As he shall thinke by our true diligence He is no lesse then what we say he is

Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him,
And each one to his office when he wakes.

Sound trumpets.

Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds, Belike some Noble Gentleman that meanes (Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere. Enter Seruingman.

How now? who is it? Ser. An't please your Honor, Players That offer seruice to your Lordship. Enter Players.

Lord. Bid them come neere:
Now fellowes, you are welcome

Players. We thanke your Honor

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?
2.Player. So please your Lordshippe to accept our
dutie

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Since once he plaide a Farmers eldest sonne, 'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman so well: I haue forgot your name: but sure that part Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd

Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes

Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent: Well you are come to me in happie time, The rather for I haue some sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a Lord will heare you play to night; But I am doubtfull of your modesties, Least (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour, For yet his honor neuer heard a play) You breake into some merrie passion, And so offend him: for I tell you sirs, If you should smile, he growes impatient

Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues,
Were he the veriest anticke in the world

Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie, And giue them friendly welcome euerie one, Let them want nothing that my house affoords.

Exit one with the Players.

Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page, And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie: That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber, And call him Madam, do him obeisance: Tell him from me (as he will win my loue) He beare himselfe with honourable action, Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished, Such dutie to the drunkard let him do: With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie, And say: What is't your Honor will command, Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife, May shew her dutie, and make knowne her loue. And then with kinde embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosome Bid him shed teares, as being ouer-ioyed To see her noble Lord restor'd to health, Who for this seuen yeares hath esteemed him No better then a poore and loathsome begger: And if the boy haue not a womans guift To raine a shower of commanded teares, An Onion wil do well for such a shift, Which in a Napkin (being close conuei'd) Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie: See this dispatch'd with all the hast thou canst, Anon Ile giue thee more instructions.

Exit a seruingman.

I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace, Voice, gate, and action of a Gentlewoman: I long to heare him call the drunkard husband, And how my men will stay themselues from laughter, When they do homage to this simple peasant, Ile in to counsell them: haply my presence May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene, Which otherwise would grow into extreames. Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, some with apparel, Bason and Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord.

Beg. For Gods sake a pot of small Ale

1.Ser. Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sacke?
2.Ser. Wilt please your Honor taste of these Conserues?
3.Ser. What raiment wil your honor weare to day

Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not mee Honour nor Lordship: I ne're drank sacke in my life: and if you giue me any Conserues, giue me conserues of Beefe: nere ask me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor no more shooes then feet, nay sometime more feete then shooes, or such shooes as my toes looke through the ouer-leather

Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your Honor. Oh that a mightie man of such discent, Of such possessions, and so high esteeme Should be infused with so foule a spirit

Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Slie, old Slies sonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a Pedler, by education a Cardmaker, by transmutation a Beare-heard, and now by present profession a Tinker. Aske Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if shee know me not: if she say I am not xiiii.d. on the score for sheere Ale, score me vp for the lyingst knaue in Christen dome. What I am not bestraught: here's- 3.Man. Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne

2.Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop

Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shuns your house As beaten hence by your strange Lunacie. Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreames: Looke how thy seruants do attend on thee, Each in his office readie at thy becke. Wilt thou haue Musicke? Harke Apollo plaies,

Musick

And twentie caged Nightingales do sing. Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch, Softer and sweeter then the lustfull bed On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walke: we wil bestrow the ground. Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shal be trap'd, Their harnesse studded all with Gold and Pearle. Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare Aboue the morning Larke. Or wilt thou hunt, Thy hounds shall make the Welkin answer them And fetch shrill ecchoes from the hollow earth

1.Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift
As breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe