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you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow; human as she is, and without any danger.

Ort. Speakest thou in sober meanings? Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician: Therefore put you in your best array, bid your friends; for if you will be married to-morrow you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will.

Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE. [of hers. Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungenTo show the letter that I writ to you. [tleness, Ros. I care not, if I have: it is my study, To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd; Look upon him, love him; he worships you.

Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.

Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears;And so am I for Phebe.

Pie. And I for Ganymede.

Orl. And I for Rosalind.

Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service;

And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganyinede.

Orl. And I for Rosalind.

Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy,

All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all obeisance ;-
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And so am I for Ganymede.
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 love you? [To ROSALIND. Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? [To PHEBE. Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? [to love you? Ros. Who do you speak to, why blame you me Orl. To her, that is not here; nor doth not hear. Ros. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon.-I will help you, [To SILVIUS] if I can.-I would love you, [To PHEBE] if I could.--To-morrow meet me altogether. I will marry you, [To PHEBE] if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow;-I will satisfy you [To ORLANDO] if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow:-I will content you, [To SILVIUS] if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. As you [To ORLANDO] love Rosalind, meet;-as you [To SILVIUS] love Phebe, meet: And as I love no woman, I'll meet.-So, fare you well; I have left you commands.

Sil. I'll not fail, if I live.

Phe.

Orl.

Nor I.

Nor I. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow 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 the world. Here comes two of the bauish'd duke's pages.

Enter two Pages.

1 Page. Well met, honest gentleman.

Touch. By my troth, well met: Come, sit. sit, and a song.

2 Page. We are for you: sit i'the middle. 1 Page. Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse; which are the only prologues to a bad voice? 2 Page. I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, liko two gipsies on a horse.

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Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no greater matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untunable.

1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time.

Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be with you and God mend your voices! Come, Andrey. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA.

Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the Can do all this that he hath promised? [boy Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes

do not:

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I bring her?

Ros. And you say, you will have her, when [To ORLANDO. Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? [To PHERE. Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepPhe. So is the bargain. [herd? Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? [To SILVIUS.

Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing.

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Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me;
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd:-
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her,
If she refuse me :-and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd-boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.
Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him,
Methought he was a brother to your daughter;
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born;
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.

Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all! • Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome: This is the motley-minded gentlemen, that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears.

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politick with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one.

Jaq. And how was that ta'en up? Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.

Jaq. How seventh cause?-Good my lord, like this fellow.

Duke S. I like him very well.

Touch. God'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks:-A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poorhouse; as your pearl, in your foul oyster. Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. [such dulcet diseases. Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed:Bear your body more seeming, Audrey :-as thus, sir, I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: This is called the Retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: This is call the Quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is call'd the Reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This is call'd the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: This is called the Countercheck quarrelsome: and so to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct.

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well cut?

Touch. I durst go no farther than the Lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted.

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the

book; as you have books 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 Reproof valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with circumstance; the seventh, the Lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as If you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your I is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.

Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalkinghorse, and under the presentation of that, he

shoots his wit.

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Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she :[To PHEEK.

Hym.

Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
"Tis I must make conclusion

Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part:

[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. You and you are heart in heart:

[To OLIVER and CELIA.
You [To PHEBE] to his love must accord.
Or have a woman to your lord:-
You and you are sure together,

[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY
As the winter to foul weather,
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish
SONG.

Wedding is great Juno's crown;

blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen people's every town; High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town! Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;

[to me;

Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

[To SILVIUS.
Enter JAQUES DE BOIS.
Jeq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, [two;
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,

Address'd a mighty power! which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
H's brother here, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came;
Where, meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Roth from his enterprise, and from the world:
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor❜d to them again
That were with him exil'd: This to be true,
I do engage my life.

Duke S.

Welcome, young man; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun, and well begot: And after, every of this happy number, [us, That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, And fall into our rustick revelry:-[grooms all, Play, musick-and you, brides and brideWith measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. Jaq. Sir, by your patience; If I heard you The duke hath put on a religious life, [rightly, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'dYou to your former honour I bequeath: [To Duke S. Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:

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EPILOGUE.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play Yet to good wine they do needs no epilogue. use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive, by your simpering, none of you hate them), that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that defied not; and I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell.

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[Exeunt.

|Countess of Rousillon, Mother to Bertram.
HELENA,a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess.
An old Widow of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA,

MARIANA,Neighbours and Friends to the Widow.

Lords, attending on the King: Officers, Soldiers,

dc. French and Florentine.

SCENE-partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

Art First.

SCENE I. Rousillon.

A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter BERTRAM, the Countess of Rousillon, HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury

a second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my

jesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, mafather's death anew: but I must attend his ma- dam; under whose practices he hath persecuted

time with hope; and finds no other advantage Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold in the process but only the losing of hope by the credit of your father. time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father. (0, that had! how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease. [madam? Laf. How called you the man you speak of, Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession. and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mouraingly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with | pity, they are virtuous and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can sea-
son her praise in. The remembrance of her
father never approaches her heart, but the ty-
ranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from
her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no
more; lest it be rather thought you affect a
sorrow, than to have.
[it too.
Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the
dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.
Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the
excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?
Count. Be thou blest Bertram! and succeed
thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a
few,

Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more
will,
[down,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck
Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,
"Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.

He cannot want the best

That shall attend his love.

tram.

Laf. Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Ber[Exit Countess. Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts [TO HELENA], be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

|

[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my father;

[more
And these great tears grace his remembrance
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable

Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relicks. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake,
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind: withal full oft

we see

Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.
Hel. And you, monarch.
Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Pur. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against Par. Keep him out. [him?

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost, That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it.

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself isa virgin: virginity murders itself; and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep

it not: you cannot choose but lose by't: Out
with't; within ten years it will make itself ten,
which is a goodly increase, and the principal
itself not much the worse: Away with't.
Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her
own liking?

Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying, the longer kept,the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not now: Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a wither'd pear; Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high;
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose,
What hath been cannot be: Who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease-my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me.
[Exit.

SCENEII. Paris. A Room in the King's Palace.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter the King of France,
with Letters; Lords and others attending.
King. The Florentine and Senoys are by the

cars;

There shall your master have a thousand loves, Have fought with equal fortune, and continue

A mother, a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
i know not what he shall;-God send him
well!-

The court's a learning-place:-and he is one-
Pur. What one, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well.-'Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think; which
Returns us thanks.

[never

Enter a Page. Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under

a charitable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

A braving war.
1 Lord.
So, 'tis reported, sir. [it
King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord.

King.

Ilis love and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.
He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes:
Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

2 Lord.

It may well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.
King.

What's he comes here?
Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.
1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral

parts

May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness

now,

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that As when thy father, and myself in friendship you must needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Fast tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; Pur. Why think you so? But on us both did haggish age steal on, Hel. You go so much backward, when you And wore us out of act. It much repairs me Pur. That's for advantage. [fight. To talk of your good father: In his youth Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes He had the wit, which I can well observe the safety; But the composition, that your va-To-day in our young lords; but they may jest, lour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, good wing, and I like the wear well. Ere they can hide their levity in honour. Par. I am so full of business, I cannot an- So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness swer thee acutely: I will return perfect cour-Were in his pride or sharpness: if they were, tier; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell.

His equal had awaked them; and bis honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand, who were below
He us'd as creatures of another place; [him
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
[Exit. Might be a copy to these younger times;

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