Winter-garments must be lined, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap, must sheaf and bind; Sweetest nut hath sourest rind; Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find, Must find love's prick and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you infect yourself with them? Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree. Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar; then it will be the earliest fruit in the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter CELIA, reading a paper. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. Cel. Why should this desert silent1 be? 1 The word silent is not in the old copy. Pope corrected the passage by reading "Why should this a desert be?" The present reading was proposed by Tyrwhitt, who observes that the hanging of tongues on every tree would not make it less a desert. 2 "Civil," says Johnson, "is here used in the same sense as when we say, civil wisdom, and civil life, in opposition to a solitary state. This desert shall not appear unpeopled, for every tree shall teach the maxims or incidents of social life." Some, of violated vows 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know 2 Sad Lucretia's modesty. By heavenly synod was devised; To have the touches dearest prized. Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-What tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, Have patience, good people! Cel. How now! back, friends;-Shepherd, go off a little.-Go with him, sirrah. Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses? Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. 1 i. e. in miniature. 2 There is a great diversity of opinion among the commentators about what is meant by the better part of Atalanta, for which the reader, who is desirous of seeing this knotty point discussed, is referred to the Variorum editions of Shakspeare. Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder, before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree; I never was so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. 2 Cel. Trow you who hath done this? Ros. Is it a man? Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you color? Ros. I pr'ythee, who? Cel. O lord, lord! It is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter. Ros. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it possible? Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping?3 Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South sea of discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it? Quickly, and speak apace. I would thou could'st 5 1 A palm-tree in the forest of Arden is as much out of its place as a lioness in a subsequent scene. 2 This fanciful idea probably arose from some metrical charm or incantation used there for ridding houses of rats. 3 To whoop, or hoop, is to cry out, to exclaim with astonishment. 4 "Good my complexion!" This singular phrase was probably only a little unmeaning exclamation. 5 i. e. every delay is as irksome as a voyage of discovery in the South sea. stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrowmouthed bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. Ros. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. Ros. Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripped up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid.1 Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he. Ros. Orlando ? Cel. Orlando. Ros. Alas the day! What shall I do with my doublet and hose?-What did he, when thou saw'st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism. Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve the 1 "Speak sad brow, and true maid;" speak seriously and honestly; or, in other words, "speak with a serious countenance, and as truly as thou art a virgin." 2 i. e. how was he dressed? 3 "Garagantua;" the giant of Rabelais, who swallowed five pilgrims, their staves and all, in a salad. propositions of a lover;-but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with a good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Cel. Give me audience, good madam. Ros. Proceed. Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. Cel. Cry, holla!1 to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart.2 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring'st me out of tune. Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out.-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. [CELIA and ROSALIND retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion's sake, I thank you too for your society. Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly. Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name? Orl. Yes, just. 1 Holla! This was a term of the manege, by which the rider restrained and stopped his horse. 2 A quibble between hart and heart. |
