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Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their
Followers. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, And draw her home with music.
(Music. If you would walk in absence of the sun. Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ;'
lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
And never be Bassanio so for me; Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
But God sort all !-- You are welcome home, my lord. Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my Which is the hot condition of their blood;
friend. If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, This is the man, this is Antonio, Or any air of music touch their ears,
To whom I am so infinitely bound. You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet Ant. No more than I am well acquitied of. Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Por, Sir, you are very welcome to our house : Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, It must appear in other ways than words, But music for the time doth change his nature: Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. The man that hath no music in himself,
(GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart. Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong; Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;?
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk :
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring Enter Portia and NERISSA at a distance.
That she did give me; whose posy was Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall.
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife,' Love me, and leave me not.
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value ? candle.
That you would wear it till your hour of death; Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : And that it should lie with you in your grave : A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, Until a king be by ; and then his state
You should have been respective, and have kept it. Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Gave it a judge's clerk !--but well I know, Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face that had it, Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;/ Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Gra Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee;
Por. You were to blame, I'must be plain with you, No better a musician than the wren.
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; How many things by season season'd are
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, To their right praise, and true perfection !
And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear And would not be awak'd ! [Music ceases. Never to part with it; and here he stands ; Lor.
That is the voice,
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth cuckoo,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; By the bad voice.
An ''were to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, Por. We have cen praying for our husbands' And swear I lost the ring defending it. [Aside.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Are they retura'd?
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, Lor,
Madam, they are not yet; That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : But there is coino a messenger before,
And neither man, nor master, would take aught To signify their corning.
But the two rings. · Por. Go in, Nerissa,
What ring gave you, my lord ? Give order to my servants, that they take
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. No noto at all of our being absent hence;
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, Nor you, Lorenzo ;-Jessica, nor you.
I would deny it; but you see, my finger
(A tucket* sounds. Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. Lor. Your husband is at band, I hear his trumpet;
Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
3 Not absolutely good, but relatively good, as it is
modified by circumstances. | We find the same thought in the Tempest :
4 Toccaia, Ital. a flourish on a trumpet, Then I beat my tabor,
6 Shakspeare delights to trifle with this wolu. At which, like unback'd colts, they pricked their ears, 6 This verbal complimentary form, made up only Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses
of breath, i. e. words. As they emelt music.'
-like cutler's poetry 2 Steevens, in one of his splenetic moods, censures
Upon a knife.' this passage as neither pregnant with physical and Knives were formerly inscribed, by means y aqua moral truth, nor poetically beautiful; and, with the as. fortis, with short sentences in distich. sistance of Lord Chesterfield's tirade against music, 9 Respective, that is considerative, regardeful; not levels a blow at the lovers and professors of it
respectful or respectable as Steevens supposed.
Ner. Nor I in yours,
| Had quite miscarried: 1 dare be bound again, Till I again see mine.
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And would conceive for what I
And bid him keep it better than the other. And how unwillingly I left the ring,
Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this When nought would be accepted but the ring,
ring You woud abate the strength of your displeasure. Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the docPor. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
tor! Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio : Or your own honour to contain the ring,
For by this ring the doctor lay with me. You would not then have parted with the ring. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; What man is there so much unreasonable,
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, If you had pleas'd to have defended it
In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways To urge the thing held as a ceremony ??
In summer, where the ways are fair enough ; Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
What ! are we cuckolds, ere we have desery'd it? I'll die for', but some woman had the ring.
Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd: Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
It comes from Padua, from Bellario: Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor ; And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo hero And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, Even he that had held up the very life
And but even now return'd: I have not yet of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome ; I was enforc'd to send it after him;
And I have better news in store for you, I was beset with shame and courtesy;
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
I am dumb, Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not ? Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,
Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make mo And that which you did swear to keep for me,
cuckold ? I will become as liberal as you :
Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it; I'll not deny him any thing I have,
Unless he live until he be a man. No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Bass. Sweet doctor you shall be my bedfellow; Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
When I am absent, then lie with my wife. Lie not a night from home ; watch me, like Argus : Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and If you do not, if I be left alone,
living; Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, For here I read for certain, that my ships I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Are safoly come to road. Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, Por.
How now, Lorenzo ? How you do leave me to mine own protection. My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him then; Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. There do I give to you, and Jessica,
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome not- After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. withstanding:
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; Of starved people. And, in the hearing of these many friends,
It is almost morning, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Wherein I see myself,
Of these events at full: Let us go in; Por.
Mark you but that! And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Nay, but hear me: Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
Or go to bed now, l.ving two hours to day : I never more will break an oath with thee.
But were the day come, I should wish ii dark, Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ;' That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
[To PORTIA. So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. (Exeunt. 1 To contain had nearly the same meaning with 10 OF the Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy, Tetain.
with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of con 2 i. e. kept in a measure religiously, or superstitiously.struction. The comic part raises laughter, and the
3 We have again the same expression in one of serious fixes expectation. The probability of either ong Shakspeare's Sonnels, in Macbeth, aud in Romeo and or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of Juliet.
two actions in one event is in this drama eminently hap4 Double is here used for deceitful, full of duplicity. py. Dryden was much pleased with his own address 5 i. e. for his advantage ; to obtain his happiness. in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which Wealth was the term generally opposed to adversity or yel, I believe, the critic will find excelled by this play. calamity
AS YOU LIKE IT.
R. GREY and Mr. Upton asserted that this Play | The highly sketched figures pass along in the most di.
was certainly borrowed from the Coke's Tale of versified succession: we see always ihe shady dark. Gamelyn, printed in Urry's Chaucer, but it is hardly green landscape in the back ground, and breathe in likely that Shakspeare saw that in manuscript, and imagination the fresh air of the forest. The hours are there is a more obvious source from whence he derived here measured by no clocks, no regulated recurrence his ploi, viz. the pastoral romance of · Rosalynde, or of duty or toil; they flow on unnumbered in voluntary Euphues Golden Legacy, by Thomas Lodge, first occupation or fanciful idleness.--One throws himseir printed in 1590. From this he has sketched his princi: down under the shade of melancholy boughs,' and in. pal characters, and constructed his plot; but those addulges in reflection on the changes of fortune, the false. mirable beings, the melancholy Jaques, the witty hood of the world, and the sell-created torments of soTouchstone, and his Audrey, are of the poet's own cre. cial life: others make the woods resound with social ation. Lodge's novel is one of those tiresome (I had and festive songs, to the accompaniment of their horns. almost said unnatural) pastoral romances, of which the Selfishness, envy and ambition, have been left in the Euphues of Lyly and the Arcadia of Sidney were also oily behind them; of all the human passions, love alone popular examples: it has, however, the redeeming merit has found an entrance into this silvan scene, where it of some very beautiful verses interspersed,* and the dictates the same language to the simple shepherd, circumstance of its having led to the formation of this and the chivalrous youth, who hangs his love ditly to a exquisite pastoral drama, is enough to make us with.
tree?:t hold our assent to Steevens's splenetic censure of it as
And this their life, exempt from public haunts, worthless' * Touched by the magic wand of the enchanter, the
Finds tongues in trees, books in ihe running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. dull and endless prosing of the novelist is transformed into an interesting and lively drama. The forest of Ar How exquisitely is the character of Rosalind conceiv. den converted into a real' Arcadia of the golden age.
ed, what liveliness and sportive gaiety, combined with
the most natural and affectionate tenderness; the reader * The following beautiful Stanzas are part of what is is as much in love with her as Orlando, and wouders called “ Rosalynd's Madrigal,' and are not unworthy of not at Phebe's sudden passion for her when disguised as a place even in a page devoted to Shakspeare:
Ganymede ; or Celia's constant friendship. Touchstone Love in my bosom like a bee
is indeed a "rare fellow: he uses his folly as a stalking. Doth suck his sweet :
horse, and under the presentation of thai, he shoots his Now with his wings he plays with me,
wit:' his courtship of Audrey, his lecture to Corin, his Now with his feet.
defence of cuckolds, and his burlesque upon the Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
'duello' of the age, are all most exquisite fooling.' It His bed amidst my tender breast,
has been remarked, that there are few of Shakspeare's My kisses are his daily feast,
plays which contain so many passages that are quoted And yet he robs me of my rest.
and remembered, and phrases that have become in a Ah, wanton, will ye?
manner proverbial. To enumerate them would be to
mention every scene in the play. And I must no longer And if I sleep, then percheth he
detain the reader from this most delightful of Shaks. With pretty flight;
peare's comedies. And makes a pillow of my knee
Malone places the composition of this play in 1599. The livelong night.
There is no edition known previous to that in the folio Burike I my lute, he tunes the string
of 1623. But it appears among the miscellaneous en. He music plays, if so I sing,
tries of prohibited pieces in the Stationers' books, with. He lends me every lovely things
out any certain date.
PERSONS REPRESENTED. Duke, living in erile.
1 Corin, FREDERICK, Brother to the Duko, and Usurper of Sylvius,
Shepherds. his Dominions.
William, a country Fellow, in love with Audrey. AMIENS, Lords attending upon the Duke in his A Person representing Hymen. JAQUES, } banishment.
Rosalind, Daughter to the banished Duke. LE Beau, a Courtier attending upon Frederick.
CELIA, Daughter to Frederick.
PHEBE, a Shepherdess.
AUDREY, a country Wench.
Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, ForestAdam,
ers, and other Attendants. Servants to Oliver. DENNIS,
The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House ; aflerTouchSTONE, a Clown.
wards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and parlly SIR OLIVER MAR-Text, a Vicar.
in the Forest of Arden.
and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his SCENE I. An Orchard, near Oliver's House. blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, Orlando
and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my
part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion be- more properly, stays” me here at home unkept: queathed mel by will : But a poor thousand crowns; For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my
1 Sir W. Blackstone proposed to read, “ He bequeath: birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? ed, &c. Warburton proposed to read, My father be. quenthed, &c. I have followed the
copy, which is
2 The old orthography slaies was an easy corruption sufficiently intelligible.
of sties; which Warburton thought the true reading.
you are, sir?
His horses are bred better; for, besides that they Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes are fair with their feeding, they are taught their me for my good. manage, and to that end riders dearly hired : Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have growth: for the which his animals on his dung- lost my teeth in your service.—God be with my hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this old master! he would not have spoke such a word. nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some
(Eseunt ORLANDO and ADAM. thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me? to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thoubars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in sand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis ! him lies, mines my gentility with my education.
Enter DENNIS. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit
Den. Calls your worship? of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude : I will no longer en
Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here dure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to to speak with me? avoid it.
Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and
importunes access to you. Enter OLIVER.
Oli. Call him in. (Exit DENNIS.)—"Twill be a Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how
Enter CHARLES. he will shake me up: Oli. Now, sir! what make you here??
Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any nows at the new court!
Oli. Good monsieur Charles !-what's the new thing: Oli. What mar you then, sir ?
Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that old news; that is, the old duke is banished by his which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, loving lords have put themselves into voluntary ex
younger brother the new duke ; and three or four with idleness.
Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be ile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the naught awhile.?
new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to
wander. Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I
Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughshould come to such penury ?
ler,' be banished with her father. Oli. Know
Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her couwhere
you Orl. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard.
sin, so loves her,-being ever from their cradles Oli. Know you beforo whom, sir?
bred together,--that she would have followed her Orl. Ay, better than he: I am before knows me the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his
exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me :
own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they
do. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in
Oli. Where will the old duke live? that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty broth- Arden, and a many merry men with him; and
Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of ers betwixt us : I have as much of my father in me, there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.
they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every Oli. What, boy!
day; and fleeild the time carelessly, as they did in Orl. Como, come, elder brother, you are too
the golden world. Foung in this.
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Ol. Wilt thou lay hands on me,
villain. • Orl. I am no villain:“ I am the youngest son of
Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint Sir Rowland de Bois ; he was my father; and he is you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to unthrice a villain, that says, such a father' begot vil- derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath lains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled and he that escapes me without some broken limb,
a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, thyself.
Adam. Sweet masters, be patient ; for your fa- and tender ; and, for your love, I would be loth ió ther's remembrance, be at accord.
foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come Oli. Let me go, I say,
in: therefore out of my love to you, I'came hither Orl. I will noi, till I please : you shall hear me, him from his intendment, or brouk such disgrace
to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay My father charged you in his will to give me good well as he shall run into ; in that it is a thing of his education : you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like
own search, and altogether against my will.
qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong,
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore allow me which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade
had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, me the poor allottery my father left me by testa-him from it; but he is resolute. P'll tell thee, Charles; ment: with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is
--it is the stubbornest young fellow of France : full spent? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's troubled with you: you shall have some part of good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against your will : I pray you, leave me.
me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion ;
worthless fellow; and by Orlando, for a man of base 1 j. e. what do you here? See note in Love's Ln- extraction. bour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3.
6. He gives them good leare. As often as this phrase 2 Be naught auhile. Warburton justly explained occurs, it means a ready assent. this phrase, which, he says, 'is only a north-country 7 i. e. the banished duke's daughter. proverbial curse equivalent to a mischief on you.' 81. e. the usurping duke's daughter; this may be
3 The first folio reads him, the second he more cor- sufficiently apparent by the words her cousin, yet it has rectly.
been thought necessary to point out the ambiguity. 4 Warburton proposed reading 'near his revenue,' 9 Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent in which he explains, though you are no nearer in blood, French Flanders, lying near the river Meuse, and be. yet it must be owned that you are nearer in estate." [ween Charlemont and Rocroy,
5 Villain is used in a double sense : by Oliver for a 10 Fleet, i. e. to fitte, to make to pass or flow.
I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger:
Enter TOUCHSTONE. and thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creaany slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ! himself on thee, he will practice against thee by Though nature hath given us wit to flout at forpoison, entrap thee hy some treacherous device, tupe, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by argument ? some indirect means or other : for, I assure thee, Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for naand almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so ture; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutyoung and so villanous this day living. I speak ter off of nature's wit. but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neito thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou ther, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits must look pale and wonder,
too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If natural for our whetstone : for always the dulness he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.--How now, over he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize wit? whither wander you? more: And so, God keep your worship! (Exit. Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your
Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir father. this gamester ;' I hope, I shall see an end of him : Cel. Were you made the messenger? for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to than he. Yet he's gentle ; never school'd, and yet come for you. learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts enchant Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ? ingly beloved ; and, indeed, so much in the heart Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his of the world, and especially of my own people, who honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his best know him, that I am altogether misprised; but honour the mustard was naught; now, I'll stand to it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall 'clear it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was all : nothing, remains, but that I kindle: the boy good ; and yet was not the knight forsworn. thither, which now I'll go about.
. How prove you that, in the great heap of SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.
Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Enter Rosalind and CELIA.
Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. merry.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were : mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier ? but if you swear by that that is not, you are not Unless you could teach me to forget a banished fa- forsworn : no more was this knight, swearing by his ther, you must not learn me how to remember any honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had extraordinary pleasure.
sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes, Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the or that mustard. full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy ba Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st! nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. have taught my love to take thy father for mine ; so Enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so for taxation, one of these days. righteously temper'd as mine is to thee.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es-wisely, what wise men do foolishly. tate, to rejoice in yours.
Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true : for since the Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in
Enter LE BEAU. affection: by mine honour, I will; and when I Ros. With his mouth full of news. break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed my_sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise Ros. Then shall we be news-cramp'd. sports : let me see; What think you of falling in Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marlove?
ketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: What's Cel. Marry, I priythee, do, to make sport withal: the news ? but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou sport. may'st in honour coine off again.
Cel. Sport? Of what colour ? Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Le Beau. What colour, madam? how shall I anCel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, swer you? Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence Ros. As wit and fortune will. forth be bestowed equally.
Touch. Or as the destinies decree. Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits Cel. Well said : that was laid on with a trowel.' are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.
Cel. 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fair, Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would havo she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes told you of good wrestling, which you have lost tho honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.
sighi of. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it the lineaments of nature.
please your ladyships, you may see the end; for thio
best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are 1 i. e. frolicksome fellow. 2 i. e. of all ranks.
coming to perform it. 3But that I kindle the boy thither. He means, that I excite the boy to it.'
6'- you'll be whipp'd for taxation. This was tho 4 The old copy reads perceiveth. The folio, 1632, discipline usually inflicted upon fools. reads perceiving.
7. Laid on with a trowel. This is a proverbial phrase 5 This reply to the Clown, in the old copies, is given not yet quite disused. It is, says Mason, to do any
thing to Rosalind. Frederick was however the name of Celia's strongly, and without delicacy. If a man flatters grossfather, and it is therefore most probable the reply should ly, it is a common expression to say, that he laye is on be hers.
with a trowel.