thing under him but growth; for the which his | animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Enter Oliver. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be naught awhile. Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you where you are, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me: The courtesy of nations allows you my battery in that you are the first-born: but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. Oli. What, boy! have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father? Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint yon with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit: and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in. therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his in this. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself. Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord." Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you you shall have some part of your will: 1 pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your serviee.-God be with my old master, he would not have spoke such a word." [Exeunt Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis! Enter Dennis. Den. Calls your worship? Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importanes access to you. Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis-"Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter Charles. Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. Good monsieur Charles! what's the new news at the new court? Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: And so, God keep your worship. [Exit. Oli. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. Enter Rosalind and Celia. Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor one is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affec tion; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Ros. From henceforth, I will, coz, and devise sports: let me see, What think you of falling in love? Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. Ros. What shall be our sport then? Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. sons, Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent For-growth and presence ;~-~ Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, tune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. Enter Touchstone. Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit. Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents. Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Ros. Alas! Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides! is there yet another dotes upon Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work nei-rib-breaking!-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? ther, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Touch. Mistress, you must come a way to your father. Ros. Where learned you that oath, foo!! Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand yon both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were : but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st? Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes monsieur le Beau. Enter Le Beau. Ros. With his mouth full of news. Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be Le Beau. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully. Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling! Ros. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies: see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Beau. Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by. [Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur, the challenger, the princesses call for you. Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles, the wrestler?" Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. young. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Cel. Of what colour? Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? Ros. As wit and fortune will. Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious: if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I bave made it empty. Ros. The little strength that I have I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived. in you! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. Duke F. You shall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him 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. Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong! fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Charles is thrown. Shout. Duke F. No more, no more. Grounded upon no other argument, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. [Exit. Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well mercy!-Not a word? breathed. Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. [Charles is borne out] What is thy name, young man? Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir Rowland de Bois. [else. Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man. Hadst thou descended from another house. [Exeunt Duke Frederick, Train, and Le Beau. Ros. My father lov'd sir Rowland as his soul, Cel. Ros. Gentleman, [Giving him a Chain from her Neck. Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune; That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz? Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not say, I thank you! My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up, Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my, fortunes: I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, sir ?- Cel. I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man- Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Ros. 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? Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: O, how full of briars is this working-day world! in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son? Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.. Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest And get you from our court. [haste, You, cousin ; Me, uncle ? Ros. Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor; Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends. [enough. Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's Ros. So was I, when your highness took his dukeSo was I, when your highness banish'd him; [dom; Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. [ness, Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smooth- Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. Duke F. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide yourIf you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, [self; And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me his daughter? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 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 heir. 'Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, 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, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Ros. Why, whither shall we go! Cel. To seek my uncle. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? 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 fittest 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. ACT II. [Exeunt. 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 but 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, Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; Duke S. 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. [tion? Dake 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 roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, Confesses that she secretly o'er-heard Your 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. Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant If he be absent, bring his brother to me, Chither; I'll make him find him: do this suddenly: And let not search and inquisition quail' To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, Orl. Why, what's the matter? O unhappy youth, Hath heard your praises; and this night he means He will have other means to cut you off; Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? I rather will subject me to the malice Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Enter Corin and Silvius. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 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, 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 peascod 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, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. [me. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with 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! Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed: Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd, And faints for succour. Cor. And do not shear the fleeces that I graze ; Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Enter Rosalind in Boy's Clothes, Celia dressed like And in my voice most welcome shall you be. a Shepherdess, and Touchstone. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary 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, if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pastare! Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: Go with me; if you like, upon report, The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be, And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. N |