Page images




We have still slept together;
Rose at an instant; learn'd, play'd, eat toge-
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.
Fond youthful Friendship.

Celia. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt
thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee
I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than
[I am.
Rosalind. I have more cause.
Celia. Thou hast not, cousin.
Prythee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the
Has banish'd me, his daughter?
Rosalind. That he hath not.

[the love
Celia. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then
Which teacheth me that thou and I are one:
Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet
No, let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us:
And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
For by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Woman in a Man's Dress.
Wer't not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart,
Lie there what hidden woman's fears there

I'll have a swashing and a martial outside;
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.
Solitude preferred to a Court Life, and the

Advantages of Adversity.
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these

More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; as the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,

This is no flattery;" these are counsellors,
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
I would not change it!

Amiens. Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
In to so quiet and so sweet a style!
Reflections on a wounded Stag, and on the
melancholy Jaques.
Come, shall we go and kill us venison ?


And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their old confines, with forked heads,
Have their round haunches gored.

1st Lord. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind swears, you do more usurp
Than doth your brother who hath banish'd you.
To-day my lord of Amiens and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique roots peep out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish: and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern


Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook
Augmenting it with tears.

Ďuke s. But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1st Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream,
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much. Then, being

Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;
'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery doth part
The flux of company. Anon, a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him: Ah, quoth
Sweep on, you fat and
"Tis just the fashion; wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and kill them up,
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
D. s. And did you leave him in this con-
Amiens. We did, my lord, weeping and com-
Upon the sobbing deer.

D. s. Shew me the place;

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he is full of matter.

Conspicuous Virtue exposed to Envy. Adam. What! my young master? O my gentle master,

O my sweet master! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why what make you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love



And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and va-
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony priser of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
2Q 2

[ocr errors][merged small]

No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh! what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it?

Resolved Honesty.

Orlando. What, wouldst thou have me go
and beg my food?

Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do-
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
1 rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.
Gratitude in an old Servant.

Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred


The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster nurse
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown.
Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you; let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility:
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty but kindly. Let me go with you,
I'll do the service of a younger man,
In all your business and necessities. [appears
Orlando. Oh! good old man, how well in thee
The constant service of the antique world,
When servants sweat for duty not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion;
And, having that, do choak their service up,
Even with the having. It is not so with thee-
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossonı yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty-
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,
But at fourscore it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well and not my master's debtor.
Lover described.

Oh 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 sate as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in 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-

Description of a Fool, and his Morals on the Time.
Jaques. As I do live by food, I met a fool;

Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms→→
In good set terms-and yet a motley fool.
"Good-morrow, fool,' quoth I: No, Sir, 'quoth

[ocr errors]

Call me not fool, till Heaven hath sent me
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: [wags:
Thus we may see' quoth he, how the world
"Tis but an hour ago since it was nine:
'And after one hour more 'twill be eleven:
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative:
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.

Duke. What fool is this?

[courtier ;

Jaques. O worthy fool! one that had been a
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. Oh that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat!
A Fool's Liberty of Speech.
Duke. Thou shalt have one.
Jaques. It is my only suit:
Provided that you weed your better judgements
Of all opinion, that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal; as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, Sir, must
they so?

The why is plain as way to parish-church:
He, whom a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave [through
To speak my mind, and I will through and
Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

Duke. Fie on thee-I can tell thee what
[but good?
thou wouldst do.
Jaques. What, for a counter, would I do
Duke. Most mischievous foul sin in chiding
For thou thyself hast been a libertine, [sin;
As sensual as the brutish sting itself:
And all th' imbossed sores and headed evils,
That thou with licence of freefoot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
An Apology for Satire.

Jaques. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, the city woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?

Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,
That says, his bravery is not on my cost;
(Thinking that I mean him) but therein suits
His folly to the metal of my speech. [wherein
There then, how then? What then? let me see
My tongue hath wronged him. If it do him

Then he hath wrong'd himself. If he be free,
Why, then, my taxing, like a wild goose, flies
Unclaim'd of any man.

Distress prevents Ceremony.
The thorny point

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility.

A tender Petition and Reply. Orlando. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:

I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance

Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look'd on better days;

If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
If ever sat at any good man's feast;
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied-
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be;
In the which hope I blush and hide my sword.
Duke. True it is that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to

And sat at good men's feasts: and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be minister'd [while,
Orlando. Then but forbear your food a little
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp'd in pare love; till he be first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,

I will not touch a bit!

The World compared to a Stage. Thou see'st we are not all alone unhappy This wide and universal theatre Presents more woful pageants than the scène Wherein we play.

Jaques. All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms:
And then the whining school-boy, with his


And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress's eye-brow. Then the soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation Ljustice,
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the
In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on's nose and pouch on's side:
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Ingratitude. A Song.

Blow, blow, thou winter-wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude:
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.
Scornful Love.

Sylvius. The common executioner,
Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes
Falls not the axe upon the humble neck,
But first begs pardon will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?


Phoebe. 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; pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:


Now counterfeit to swoon: why now fall down;
Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. [thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it: lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some monent keeps but now mine
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;
Now, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt to any.
O dear Phœbe,
If ever (as that ever may be near) [fancy,
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That Love's keen arrows make.

[blocks in formation]

Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, That can entame my spirits to your worship. You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,

Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain! You are a thousand times a properer man Than she a woman: 'Tis such fools as you That make the world full of ill-favour'd child


'Tis not her glass, but you that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her. But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees

And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's For I must tell you friendly in your ear, [love: Sell when you can, you are not for all markets. Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer: Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. Tender Love.

So holy, and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

Real Love dissembled.

Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish boy:-yet he talks well.But what care I for words? Yet words do well, When hethatspeak sthem pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth;-not very pretty;But sure he's proud: and yet his pride becomes


He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion: and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall;
His leg is but so so: and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the

Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Sylvius, had they mark'd him

In parcels, as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him;

For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me :
I marvel why I answer'd not again;
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
A fine Description of a sleeping Man, about to

be destroyed by a Snake and a Lioness. Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd

with age,

And high top bald with high antiquity,
A wretched, ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck
A green and gilded snake had writh'd itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, ap-

The opening of his mouth; but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,

And with intended glides did slip away
Into a bush; under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, [watch
Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.

I do not shame

To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.


Phoebe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. [tears; Sylvius. It is to be all made of sighs and It is to be all made of faith and service; It is to be all made of fantasie,

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 observánce.

The Uncertainty of Opinion in Anxiety.
Duke. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the

Can do all this that he hath promised?

Orlando. I sometimes do believe, and some-
times do not;

As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
Song. On Matrimony.
Wedding is great Juno's crown;

O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town,

High wedlock then be honored: Honor, high honor and renown, To Hymen, god of every town!


Child-bearing prettily expressed. Herself almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear. Cheats well described.

They say this town is full of cozenage; As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind, Soul-killing witches, that deform the body, Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many such-like liberties of sin !

Man's Pre-eminence

Why head-strong liberty is lash'd with woe, There's nothing situate under Heaven's eye, But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky; The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subjects, and at their controuls. Men, more divine, the master of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Are masters to their fernales, and their lords: Of more pre-eminence than fish or fowls, Then let your will attend on their accords.

Patience easier taught than practised. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she pause;

They can be meek, that have no other cause.

A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;
But, were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain.

[ocr errors]

I see the jewel best enamelled
Will lose its beauty; and tho' gold bides still,
That others touch; yet often touching will
Wear gold. And so no man that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Wife's Exhortation on a Husband's Infidelity.
Ay, ay, Antipholus, look and frown;
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once when thou, unurg'd, wouldst
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thine hand,
That never meat sweet savor'd in thy taste,
L'aless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd
to thee.
[comes it,
How comes it now, my husband, Oh, how
That thou art thus estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me:
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me:
For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,

As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious;
And that this body consecrate to thee,
By ruffian Just should be contaminate!

Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep divorcing vow?
I know thou wouldst; and therefore see thou do
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot, |it.
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust.
For if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
A Respect to Decency and the Opinion of the

World, an excellent Bulwark to our Virtues.
Have patience, Sir; O, let it not be so;
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
Th' inviolated honor of your wife.
Once this Your long experience of her wis-
Her sober virtues, years, and modesty, [dom,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, Sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be rui'd by me; depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner;
And, about evening, come yourself alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong band you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rout

Against your yet ungalled reputation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead.
For slander lives upon succession;

For ever hous'd where it once gets possession.
Document for Wives, and the ill Effects of

Abbess. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at sea?

Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
A sin prevailing much in youthful men,
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows is he subject to?

Adriana. To none of these, except it be the last;

Namely, some love that drew him off from home. [ed him. Abbess. You should for that have reprehendAdriana. Why so I did.

Abbess. But not rough enough.

[let me.

Adriana. As roughly as my modesty would
Abbess. Haply in private.

Adriana. And in assemblies too.
Abbess. But not enough.

Adriana. It was the copy of our conference;
In bed, he slept not for my urging it;
At board, he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme:
company, I often glanced at it:
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.

Abbess. And therefore came it that the man was mad.

The venom clamors of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad-dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing;
And therefore comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy up-
Unquiet meals make ill digestions, [braidings;
And what's a fever, but a fit of madness?
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred;
Thou say'st his sports were hindered by thy

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair?
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop

Of pale distemperatures and foes to life.

Ill Deeds and ill Words double Wrong. 'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed, And let her read it in your looks at board : Shame hath a bastard fame well managed;

Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. Passionate Lover's Address to his Mistress.

Sing, Syren, for thyself, and I will dote;

Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs. And as a bed I'll take them, and there lie: And in that glorious supposition think

He gains by death, that hath such means to die. Description of a beggarly Conjurer, or a Fortune-Teller.

A hungry, lean-faced villain,

A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead-man: this pernicious slave,

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »