Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of

earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Ros. So I do; but, i'faith, I should have been a woman by right.

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw homewards;-Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

Ros. I shall devise something: But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him:-Will you go?

ACT V.

SCENE 1.-The same.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.

[Exeunt.

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.

Enter WILLIAM.

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. Will. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William.
Will. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Touch. A ripe age: Is thy name William?
Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name: Wast born i'the forest here?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. Thank God;-a good answer: Art rich?
Will. 'Faith sir, so, so.

Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips, when he put it into his mouth; meaning, thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?

[blocks in formation]

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman: Therefore, you clown, abandon,-which is, in the vulgar, leave, the society,-which, in the boorish, is, company, of this female,-which, in the common, is, woman,-which, together, is, abandon the society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore, tremble, and depart.

Aud. Do, good William.
Will. God rest you, merry sir.

Enter CORIN.

[Exit.

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away,

away.

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey;-I attend, I attend. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same.

Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER.

Orl. Is't possible that, on so little acquaintance, you

should like her? that, but seeing, you should love her! and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and you will persever to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she loves me; consent, with both, that we may enjoy each other; it shall be to your good; for my father's house, and all the revenue that was Old Sir Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die ashepherd.

[blocks in formation]

Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon, when he showed me your handkerchief? Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that.

Ros. O, I know where you are:-Nay, 'tis true: there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar's thrasonical brag of—I came, saw, and overcame: For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved: no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees they have made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them.

Orl. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having what he wishes for.

Ro8. Why then, to-morrow, I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind.

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking.

talking. Know of me then, (for now I speak to some Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle purpose,) that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, than 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, shall you marry her: I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible 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 dearly, 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 service;

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,

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 obeisance;

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? Ros. 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. Sil. I'll not fail, if I live. Phe.

Orl.

Nor 1.

Nor I. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same.

[blocks in formation]

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 pass

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

Between the acres of the rye,

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

This carol they began, that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

How that a life was but a flower,

In spring time, &c.

[blocks in formation]

Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.

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, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA.

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

L

[blocks in formation]

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.
Ros. You say you'll marry me, if I be willing?
[TO PHEBE.

Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after.
Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?
Phe. So is the bargain.

Ros. You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will?
[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 inagician, 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 forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks :-A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, to take that that no other 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?

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 sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: This is called the Quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is called the Reply churlish. If again, it 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 dircct.

Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?

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 seven 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 If 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.

[blocks in formation]

I'll have no husband, if you be not he :-
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion :

"Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.

[TO DUKE S. [TO ORL. [TO PHEBE.

You and you no cross shall part: [To ORL. and Ros. You and you are heart in heart: [TO OLIV. and CEL. You [To PHEBE] to his love must accord,

Or have a woman to your lord :

You and you are sure together, [To TOUCH and AUD.
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.

[TO SILV.

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,
And fall into our rustic revelry:-

Play, music;-and you brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.

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 victuall'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. {Erit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, And we do trust they'll end in true delights. [A dance.

EPILOGUE.

I

logue: but it is no more unhandsome than to see the Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilord the prologue. If it be true that 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 case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the 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. charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases you; 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 kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths 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.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

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 commands, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam; -you, sir, a father: He that so generally 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 persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0 that had! 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?

Laf. 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 make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. Laf. 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 it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

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?

That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck 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.

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram.
[Exit COUNTESS.

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

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the
credit of your father.
[Exeunt BER. and LAF.
Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
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 be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated to 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 trick 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 sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar;
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.

Hel. And you, monarch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him?

Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

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, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic, in the 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 lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it.

Hel. 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 dis obedience. 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 dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides,

Count. Be thou bless'd, Bertram! and succeed thy virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love,

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 silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,

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 date 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 drily; 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 us what we alone must think; which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter a PAGE.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
[Exit PAGE.
Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee,
I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.

Par. Why under Mars?

[blocks in formation]

Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES.

1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram.

King.
Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face;
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself, in friendship,
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest; he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in hour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him,
He used as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you Making them proud of his humility, must needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: But the composition, that your valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer
thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the
which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee,
so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and
understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else
thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance
makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast leisure,
say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy
friends get thee a good husband, and use him as he
uses thee: so farewell.
[Exit.

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky,
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my love so high;
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose,
What hath been cannot be: Who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love?
The king's disease-my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit.
SCENE II.-Paris.-A Room in the King's Palace.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE,
with letters; LORDS and others attending.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.

1 Lord.

So 'tis reported, sir.

'King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,

In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber.

His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,
As in your royal speech.

King. Would I were with him! He would alwaya

say,

(Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear,)-Let me not live,-
Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out,-Let me not live, quoth he,
After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments: whose constancies
Expire before their fashions:-This he wish'd:
1, after him, do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,

To give some labourers room.

2 Lord.

You are lov'd, sir:

They that least lend it you, shall lack you first.

King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long is't, count,
Since the physician at your father's died?
He was much fam'd.

Ber.
Some six months since, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet;-
Lend me an arm;-the rest have worn me out
With several applications:-nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count;
My son's no dearer.
Ber.

Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt.-Flourish. SCENE III.-Rousillon.-A Room in the COUNTESS's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWN. Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your

« AnteriorContinuar »