Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company. If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. And therefore, look you, call me Ganymede. Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fitest time, and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: Now go we in content, To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt. 1 The second folio reads charge. Malone explains it 'to take your change or reverse of fortune upon your. self, without any aid of participation.' 2A kind of umber,' a dusky yellow-coloured earth, brought from Umbria in Italy, well known to artists. 3 This was one of the old words for a cutlass, or short crooked sword, coutelas, French. It was variously spelled, courtlas, courtlar, curtlax. ACT II. SCENE I. The forest of Arden. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in the dress of Foresters. Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we buis the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon 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 the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,Being native burghers of this desert city,Should in their own confines, with forked heads" Have their round haunches gor'd. 1 Lord. 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 you. To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:9 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed my 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 Cours'd one another down his innocent nose1o In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of 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. To that which had too much :12 Then, being alone, 4 i. e. as we now say, dashing; spirited and calcula-sage ted to surprise. 5 The old copy reads 'not the penalty.' Theobald proposed to read but, and has been followed by subsequent editors. Surely the old reading is right,' says Mr. Boswell; here we feel not, do not suffer, from the penalty of Adam; for when the winter's wind blows upon my body, I smile and say'- 6 It was currently believed in the time of Shakspeare that the toad had a stone contained in its head which was endued with singular virtues. This was called the loud stone. 7 It irks me, i. e. it gives me pain. Mi rincresce, mi fa male.'-Torriano's Dict. 8 Barbed arrows. 9 Gray, in his Elegy, has availed himself of this pas 'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.' 10 Saucius at quadrupes nota intra tecta refugit Successitque gemens stabulis; questuque cruentus Atque imploranti similis, tectum omne replevit.' Virg. 11 i. e. the stream that needed not such a supply of moisture. 12 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint:-in a river Upon whose weeping margin she was set Like usury applying wet to wet.' Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place; 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish2 clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. This is no place, this house is but a butchery; Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? 10 Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears If he be absent, bring his brother to me, I'll make him find him: do this suddenly; And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish run-aways. SCENE III. Before Oliver's House. LANDO and ADAM, meeting. Orl. Who's there? But come thy ways, we'll go along together; And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, Adam. What! my young master ?-O, my gentle We'll light upon some settled low content. master, O, my sweet master, O you memory No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, Orl. Why, what's the matter? O unhappy youth, Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives: Your brother-(no, no brother: yet the son- I overheard him, and his practices. 1 i. e. to encounter him. Thus in K. Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 2: cope malicious censurers.' 2 The roynish clown,' mangy or scurvy, from neur, French. The word is used by Chaucer. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. Enter Ro- Ros. O Jupiter! how weary13 are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you; yet I should bear no cross,1 if Í did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse. 8 i. e. treacherous devices. 9 Place here signifies a seat, a mansion, a resi roig-dence: it is not yet obsolete in this sense. 3 Wrestler is here to be sounded as a trisyllable. 4To quail,' says Steevens, is to faint, to sink into dejection. It may be so, but in neither of these senses is the word here used by Shakspeare. 6 Shakspeare uses memory for memorial. 61 e. rash, foolish. 7 I suspect that a priser was the term for a wrestler, a prise was a term in that sport for a grappling or hold taken. 10 i. e. blood turned out of a course of nature. Alfections alienated. 11 See St. Luke, xii. 6 and 24. 12 Even with the promotion gained by service is service extinguished. 13 The old copy reads merry; perhaps rightly. Ro salind's language as well as her dress may be intended to have an assumed character. 14 A cross was a piece of money stamped with a cross, on this Shakspeare often quibbles. Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Or if thou hast not broke from company, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I 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 batlet,' and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod2 instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said, with weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers: but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of. Touch. Nay, shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. 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! By doing deeds of hospitality: Cor. That young swain that you saw here but Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: SCENE V. And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. Ami. Under the greenwood tree, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please you. Jac. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza: Call you them stanzas ? Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe ine nothing: Will you sing? Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment, is like the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. Cor. Who calls? Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Good even to you, friend. Peace, I say : you all. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to Cor. But I am shepherd to another man, 1 Batlet, the instrument with which washers beat clothes. A peascod. This was the ancient term for peas growing or gathered, the cod being what we now call the pod. It is evident why Shakspeare uses the former word. 3 In the middle counties, says Johnson, they use mortu as a particle of amplification, as mortal tall, mortal Eule. So the meaning here may be abounding in folly,' Ami. Well, I'll end the song.-Sirs, cover the while the duke will drink under this tree!-he hath been all this day to look you. : Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. No enemy, But winter and rough weather. 4 i. e. heeds, cares for. So in Hamlet:- and recks not his own rede.' 5 i. e. cot or cottage, the word is still used in its com. pound form, as sheepcote in the next line. 6 In my voice, as far as I have a voice or vote, as far as I have the power to bid you welcome. 7 The old copy reads: And turne his merry note,' which Pope altered unnecessarily to tune, the reading of all the modern editions. 8 Ragged and rugged had formerly the same mean. 9 Disputable, i. e. disputatious. ing. Jaq. l'il give you a verse to this note, that I made Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock: yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it. Jaq. Thus it goes: If it do come to pass, An if he will come to me. Ami. What's that ducdame? Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.2 Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is prepar'd. [Exeunt severally. SCENE VI. The same. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little: if this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerly: and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt. A Table set out. Enter SCENE VII. The same. 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence: Here was he merry, hearing of a song. Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. That your poor friends must woo your company? Jaq. A fool, a fool!-I met a fool i' the forest, 1 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads duc ad me, i. e. bring him to me, which reading Johnson highly approves. 2The firstborn of Egypt,' a proverbial expression for high-born persons; it is derived from Exodus, xii. 29. Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wage Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,- Jaq. Duke S. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou Jaq. What, for a counter, 12 would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting13 itself; Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 8 My only suit,' a quibble between petition and dress is here intended. 9 In Henry V. we have : "The wind, that charter'd libertine, is still.' 10 The old copies read only, seem senseless, &c. not to were supplied by Theobald. 11 So in Macbeth : 'Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff.' 12 About the time when this play was written, the French counters (i. e. pieces of false money used as a means of reckoning) were brought into use in England. They are again mentioned in Troilus and Cressida, and in the Winter's Tale. 13 So in Spenser's Faerie Queene, b. i. c. xii. :A herd of bulls whom kindly rage doth sting. 14 The old copies read 'Till that the weary very means do ebb,' &c. The emendation is by Pope. 15 Finery. My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Why, I have eat none yet. Or else a rude despiser of good manners, This wide and universal theatre Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny Secking the bubble reputation Of bare distress hath ta'en2 from me the show Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, must die. I Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. table. Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray I thought, that all things had been savage here; Of stern commandment: But, whate'er you are, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; If ever sat at any good man's feast; Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days; Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable And let him feed. I thank you most for him. I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 8 Pleonasms of this kind were by no means uncommon in the writers of Shakspeare's age; 'I was afearde to what end his talke would come to. Baret. 9 In the old play of Damon and Pythias, we havePythagoras said, that this world was like a stage whereon many play their parts.' 10 So in Cymbeline; 'He furnaceth the thick sighs from him.' 11 One of the ancient senses of sudden is violent 12 Trite, common, trivial. 13 The pantaloon was a character in the old Italian farces; it represented, as Warburton observes, a thin emaciated old man in slippers. 14 That is, thy action is not so contrary to thy kind, so unnatural, as the ingratitude of man. 15 Johnson thus explains this line, which some of the editors have thought corrupt or misprinted; 'Thou winter wind, says Amiens, thy rudeness gives the less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us with thy presence, and whose unkindness in therefore not aggravated by insult.' |