Imagens da página
PDF
ePub

As, how I came into that desert place ;-
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,

There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him; bound up 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 give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany-
mede ?
[ROSALIND faints.
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it:-Cousin-Ganymede !
Oli. Look, he recovers.
Ros.

I would, I were at home. Cel. We'll lead you thither :pray you, will you take him by the arm? Oli. Be of good cheer, youth:-You a man?—

You lack a man's heart.

Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name: Wast born i' the forest here? Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. Thank God ;-a good answer: Art rich? Will. 'Faith, sir, so, so.

Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?

Will. I do, sir.

Touch. Give me your hand: Art thou learned? Will. No, sir.

Touch. Then learn this of me; To have, is to have: For it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other: For all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he.

Will. Which he, sir.

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman : Res. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would Therefore, you clown, abandon,-which is in the think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell vulgar, leave, the society,-which in the boorish your brother how well I counterfeited.-Heigh ho!-is company,-of this female,-which in the common Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion

of earnest.

[blocks in formation]

is, woman, which together is, abandon the society of this female; or clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble, and depart.

Aud. Do, good William.
Will. God rest you merry, sir.
Enter CORIN.

[Exit.

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away, away. [Exeunt.

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis ; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.

Enter WILLIAM.

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. Will. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William.
Will. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Touch. A ripe age: is thy name William?

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey ;-I attend, I attend. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter ORLANDO and OLIVer.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance love her ? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should you should like her? that, but seeing, you should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, den wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudwith me, I love Aliena; say, with her, that she loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other; it shall be to your good; for my father's house, and all the revenue that was old sir Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

Enter ROSALIND.

[blocks in formation]

Ros. I thought, thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon, when he shew'd me your handkerchief? Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that.

Ros. O, I know where you are:-Nay, 'tis true: there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar's thrasonical brag of-I came, saw, and overcame. For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them.

Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be al! 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 observance;
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And so am I for Ganymed.
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 PHERE.
Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ?
Ros. Who do you speak to, why blame you me to
love you?

Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. Ros. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howl

Orl. They shall be married to-morrow; and I willing of Irish wolves against the moon.-I will help bid the duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having what he

wishes for.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking.

Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle talking. Know of me then (for now I speak to some purpose,) that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three years old, conversed with a magician, most profound in this art, and not yet damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any danger.

Orl. 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.

Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers. Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, To shew the letter that I writ to you.

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.

[blocks in formation]

you, [to SILVIUS] if I can :-I would love you, [to PHEBE] if I could.-To-morrow meet me all together.-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 inarried 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; tomorrow 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 banished 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, like two gypsies on a horse.

I.

II.

SONG.

It was a lover and his lass,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn field did pass

In the spring time, the only pretty rank time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

These pretty country folks would lie,

In spring time, &c.

III. This carol they began that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

How that a life was but a flower

In spring time, &c.

IV. And therefore take the present time,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; For love is crowned with the prime

In spring time, &c.

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

1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we

lost not our time.

lors; 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 Duke S. I like him well. very [fellow. press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country Touch. God'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. 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 poor-house; as your pearl, in your foul oyster.

I 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, Audrey. [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 boy Can do all this that he hath promised?

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.

Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE.

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd:

her?

You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, [To the DUKE.
You will bestow her on Orlando here? [with her.
Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give
Ros. And you say you will have her, when I bring
[To ORLANDO.
Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing?
[To PHEBE.
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 shepherd!
Phe. So is the bargain.

Res. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? [To SILVIUS. Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing.

Ros. I have promis'd to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter ;You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter :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 Ros. & CEL. 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 gentleman, 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 politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tai

Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.

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 called 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 called the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he Would say I lie: This is call'd 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 further 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?

tercheck

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 Counquarrelsome; 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 If 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 stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit.

Enter HYMEN, leading ROSALIND in woman's
clothes; and CELIA.
Still Music.
Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together.

Good duke, receive thy daughter,
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither;
That thou might'st join her hand with his,
Whose heart within her bosom is.

Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To DUKE S. Το you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORL. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

[blocks in formation]

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa-That here were well begun, and well begot:
Phe. If sight and shape be true,

Why then, my love adieu !

Ros. I'll have no father, it you be not hes

[lind.

[To DUKE S. [To ORL. [To PиE.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he:-
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
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:

And after, every of this happy number,
That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us,
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 rustic revelry:-

Play, music-and you brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience; if I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life,

And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.

[ocr errors]

Jaq. To him will I out of these convertites
[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.—
You to your former honour I bequeath; [To DUKE S.
Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :—
You [to ORLANDO] to a love, that your true faith doth

You and you are heart in heart:

[TO OLIVER and CELIA. You [to PHEEE] 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;

O blessed bond of board and bed!
Tis Hymen peoples 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 art thou to me; Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [To SILV. Enter JAQUES de Bois.

Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two; I am the second son of old sir Rowland, 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 His 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 Both from his enterprize, 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 exíl'd: This to be true, I do engage my life.

Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia gave away their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for the heroism of her friendship. The character of Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson in which he might have found matter worthy of his highest powers.-JOHNThe taste of the poet is here, as in many other instances, to be preferred to that of the critic.-Though Shakspeare has

SON.

merit :

You [to OLIVER] to your land, and love, and great allies:

You [to SILVIUS] to a long and well deserved bed :And you [to TOUCHSTONE to wrangling; for thy lov

ing voyage

Is but for two months victual'd:-So to your pleaI am for other than for dancing measures. [sures; Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, And we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance.

EPILOGUE.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is not 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 needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do 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 them and so 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 I 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. [Exeunt.

shewn great judgment in substituting the conversion of Frederick in the place of his death, which is the fate allotted him in Lodge's novel, nothing could have been more out of keeping with the tone and colour of the play, than the representation of such an event. It was a circumstance to be related and not performed. A scene of so severe a character, as that between the guilty duke and the aged bermit must necessarily have been, could have no appropriate place in this tale of love and mirth, and wit and idleness. In a work, like the present, calculated to unfatigue the mind and delight the imagination by a succession of pleasing incidents, every thing of a sad or solemn nature is with admirable propriety omitted, or only cursorily glanced at.

[blocks in formation]

PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.

Several young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the Florentine war.

Steward, Clown, servants to the Countess of Rousillon. Ꭺ Page.

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,
Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c.
French and Florentine.

neighbours and friends to the Widow.

SCENE,-partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

ACT I.

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 father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty'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 amend

ment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by 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.

Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? 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 mourningly 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 virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Laf. Your commendations, madain, get from her

tears.

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny 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.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. 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 ex

cess makes it soon mortal.

[father

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. Laf. How understand we that? Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy 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, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord, 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him. Laf. He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. Count. Heaven bless him!

Farewell, Bertram. [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.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the cre dit of your father. [Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my father. And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like?

« AnteriorContinuar »