SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA drest like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: there. fore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further. Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:—Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Enter CORIN, and SILVIUS. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. O, if thou hast not sat as I do now, Or, if thou hast not broke from company, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have oy hard adventure found mine own. [Exit SILVIUS. Touch. And I mine: We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love morta in folly. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I wreak my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Is much upon thy fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, f he for gold will give us any food; faint almost to death. Touch. Holla: you, clown! Cor. Who calls? Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. tod even to you, friend. Peace, I say: Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. graze; Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, And in my voice most welcome shall you be. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? That little cares for buying any thing. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place, Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: [Exeuni SCENE V.-Another part of the Forest. A Table set ou Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, Lords, and others. Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast For I can no where find him like a man. 1st Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Here was he merry, hearing of a song. Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, Enter JAQUES. 1st Lord. He saves my labor by his own approach. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this That your poor friends must woo your company? What! you look merrily. Jaq. A fool, a fool! -I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool;-a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool; Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier; And say, 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'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms :-O, that I were a fool! Duke S. Thou shalt have one. Jaq. It is my only suit; To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: Even by the squandering glances of the fool. To speak my mind, and I will through and through If they will patiently receive my medicine. Duke S. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou would'st do. Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, When such a one as she, such is her neighbor ? That says, his bravery is not on my cost, There then How, what then? Let me see wherein Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Why, I have eat none yet Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress; Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. 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, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days; Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort! Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy; This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. All the world's a stage. Jaq. [Exu |