The Forest of Arden. |
| |
Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA dressed like 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 it 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. 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. |
| Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! |
| Cor. I partly guess, for I have lov'd ere now. |
| Sil. No, Corin; being old, thou canst not guess, |
| Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover |
| As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: |
| But if thy love were ever like to mine,— |
| As sure I think did never man love so,— |
| How many actions most ridiculous |
| Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? |
| Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. |
| Sil. O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily. |
| If thou remember'st not the slightest folly |
| That ever love did make thee run into, |
| Thou hast not lov'd: |
| Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, |
| Wearing thy hearer with thy mistress' praise, |
| Thou hast not lov'd: |
| Or if thou hast not broke from company |
| Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, |
| Thou hast not lov'd. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit. |
| Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, |
| I have by hard adventure found mine own. |
| 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 a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked; 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 speakest 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. |
| Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. |
| 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. Who calls? |
| Touch. Your betters, sir. |
| Cor. Else are they very wretched. |
| Ros. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. |
| Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. |
| Ros. I prithee, 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. Fair sir, I pity her, |
| And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, |
| My fortunes were more able to relieve her; |
| But I am shepherd to another man, |
| And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: |
| My master is of churlish disposition |
| And little recks to find the way to heaven |
| By doing deeds of hospitality. |
| Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed |
| Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, |
| By reason of his absence, there is nothing |
| That you will feed on; but what is, come see, |
| And in my voice most welcome shall you be. |
| Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? |
| Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, |
| That little cares for buying anything. |
| 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. |
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