nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.'-Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. Aud. I do not know what poetical is. Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing? Touch. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do feign.2 Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. Aud. Would you not have me honest? Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard favored; for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar. Jaq. A material fool! 3 Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I gods make me honest! [Aside. pray the Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish. Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.1 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! Sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end, I have been with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. 1 i. e. confounds a man, like an enormous bill in a mean place of entertainment. 2 This should probably be read—"it may be said, as lovers, they do feign." 3 "A material fool" is a fool with matter in him. 4 Audrey, in the simplicity of her heart, here "thanks the gods amiss;" mistaking foulness for some notable virtue, or commendable quality. Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said,-Many a man knows no end of his goods; right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so.- Poor men alone?—No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal.1 Is the single man therefore blessed? No; as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Enter SIR 2 OLIVER MAR-TEXT. Here comes sir Oliver.-Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met. Will you despatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. Proceed, proceed; I'll Jaq. [Discovering himself.] give her. Touch. Good even, good master What ye call't. How do you, sir? You are very well met. God'ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir.-Nay; pray 3 covered. Jaq. Will you be married, Motley? be Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. 1 Lean deer are called rascal deer. 2 "Sir Oliver." This title, it has been already observed, was formerly applied to priests and curates in general. i. e. God yield you, God reward you. Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. [Aside. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey; We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee; But-wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee.1 [Exeunt JAQ., TOUCH., and AUDREY. Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit. SCENE IV. The same. Before a Cottage. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep. Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man. Ros. But have I not cause to weep? Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. 1 The ballad of "O sweete Olyver, leave me not behind thee," and the answer to it, are entered on the Stationers' books in 1584 and 1586. Touchstone says I will sing-not that part of the ballad which says"Leave me not behind thee;" but that which says "Begone, I say," probably part of the answer. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling color. Cel. Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good color. Cel. An excellent color; your chestnut was ever the only color. Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana; a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them. Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. Cel. Yes, I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horsestealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet, or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. Cel. Was is not is. Besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose; but 3 1 Judas was constantly represented, in old paintings and tapestry, with red hair and beard. 2 When the tilter, by unsteadiness or awkwardness, suffered his spear to be turned out of its direction, and to be broken across the body of his adversary, instead of by the push of the point, it was held very disgraceful. 3 i. e. mistress. all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides.Who comes here? Enter CORIN. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired After the shepherd that complained of love; Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud, disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played, Ros. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Another Part of the Forest. Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe. Say that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance. Phe. I would not be thy executioner; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye. 1 i. e. he who, to the very end of life, continues a common executioner. |
