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Sil. I'll not fail, if I live.
Phie. Nor I.

Orl. Nor I.

SCENE III.-The same.

[Exeunt.

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 yet not damnable. If you do
love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture
cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena,
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.
shall you marry her: I know into what straits Touch. To-morrow is the joyful_day,
of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossi-rey; to-morrow will we be married.
ble 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 dear-
ly, 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 show 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.

Phe. 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 ser

And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganymede.

Orl. And I for Rosalind.

Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy,

[vice ;

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 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?

os. 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 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 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 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.

* Invite.

Aud

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 gipsies on a horse.

SONG.
I.

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 puss

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

II.

Between the acres of the rye,

These pretty country folks would lie,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
In spring time, &c.

III.

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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, Audrey. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—Another part of the Forest.
Enter DUKE, senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLAN-
DO, OLIVER, and CELIA.

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

As

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not;

those that fear they hope, and know they Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE. Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compáct is urg'd:--You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,

[To the DUKE, You will bestow her on Orlando here?

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Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.

Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? [To ORLANDO. Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.

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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

Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be will-sent him word again, it was not well cut, he ing? [To PHEBE. Would send me word, he cut it to please himPhe. That will I, should I die the hour after. self: This is called the Quip modest. If again, Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry me, [herd? it was not well cut, he disabled my judgement: You'll give yourself to this most faithful shep-This is called the Reply churlish. If again, it Phe. So is the bargain. 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 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?

will?

Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she [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 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 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 my 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 forSear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks: A poor virgin, Sir, an ill-favoured thing, Sir, but mine own; a poor humour of wine, 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.

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?

A stately solemn dance.

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?

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 se ven 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 is the only peacemaker; 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.

To you I give myself, for I am yours.

[TO ORLANDO. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.

Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adíeu !

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he:[TO DUKE S.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he :

[TO ORLANDO.

Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.

[TO PHEBE.

Hym. Peace ho! I bar confusion: 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events:

• Seanly.

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;

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 thou art

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.t [TO SILVIUS.

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 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,
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,

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And fall into our rustic revelry :Play, music;—and you brides and bridegrooms all,

[fall. With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures 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.

Jaq. To him will I; out of these convertites 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 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 loving voyage

Is but for two months victual'd:-So to your pleasures;

I am for other than for dancing measures.
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.

EPILOGUE.

[A dance.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than 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 epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the case am I in then, that am neither a good 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 me, complexions that liked me,t and breaths kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased 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.

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PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.

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

HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected by the
Countess.

An Old WIDOW of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA, neighbours and friends to the
MARIANA, Widow.

STEWARD, Servants to the Countess of Rou-Lords, attending on the King. Officers, Sol

CLOWN,

A PAGE.

sillon.

COUNTESS of ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram.

diers, &c. French and Florentine.

SCENE, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Rousillon.-A Room in the Coun-
tess' 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.

Luf. 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 makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, her they are the better for their simpleness;† madam;-you, Sir, a father: He that so gene-she derives her honesty, and achieves her rally 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, madam; under whose practices he hath persecut ed time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

goodness.

Luf. Your commendations, madam, 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

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a fait too. ther, (O, that hud! † 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?

* Under his particular care, as my guardian.

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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 bless'd, Bertram! and suc.

ceed thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! 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 si-
lence,
[will,

But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more

* Qualities of good breeding and erudition.

+ Her excellences are the better because they are art All appearance of life.

The countess recollects her own loss of a husband and less. observes how heavily had passes through her mind.

That thee may furnish,* and my prayers pluck | you lose your city. It is not politic in the

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.

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

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Ber-lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it. [Exit COUNTESS.

tram.

Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts, [To HELENA] be servants to you!t Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Luf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father.

[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 he 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 tricks of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES.

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

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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, mau will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made,

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, is a 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 díes 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 tooth-pick, which wear not now: Your datet is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing

with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and 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-
Par. 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.

Puge. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for
you.
[Exit PAGE.
Par. Little Helen, farewell: if can remem-

* I. e. That may help thee with more and better qualiber thee, I will think of thee at court.

fications.

+1. e. May you be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring them to effect.

Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his

resemblance was pourtrayed.

l'eculiarity of feature.

Countenance,

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