ACT II SCENE IV | The Forest of Arden. | |
[
Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena,
and TOUCHSTONE
] |
ROSALIND | O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! |
TOUCHSTONE | I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. |
ROSALIND | 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: therefore courage, |
| good Aliena! | 8 |
CELIA | I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. |
TOUCHSTONE | 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. |
ROSALIND | Well, this is the forest of Arden. |
TOUCHSTONE | 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. | 16 |
ROSALIND | Ay, be so, good Touchstone. |
[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS] |
| Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in |
| solemn talk. |
CORIN | That is the way to make her scorn you still. |
SILVIUS | O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! |
CORIN | I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. |
SILVIUS | No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, |
| Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover |
| As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: | 25 |
| But if thy love were ever like to mine-- |
| As sure I think did never man love so-- |
| How many actions most ridiculous |
| Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
|
CORIN | Into a thousand that I have forgotten. |
SILVIUS | O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! |
| If thou remember'st not the slightest folly |
| That ever love did make thee run into, |
| Thou hast not loved: |
| Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, | 35 |
| Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, |
| Thou hast not loved: |
| Or if thou hast not broke from company |
| Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, |
| Thou hast not loved. |
| O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! |
[Exit] |
ROSALIND | Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, |
| I have by hard adventure found mine own. | 43 |
TOUCHSTONE | And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke |
| my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for |
| coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the |
| kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her |
| pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the |
| wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took |
| two cods and, giving her them again, said with |
| weeping tears 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are |
| true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is |
| mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. |
ROSALIND | Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. |
TOUCHSTONE | Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I |
| break my shins against it. | 56 |
ROSALIND | Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion |
| Is much upon my fashion. |
TOUCHSTONE | And mine; but it grows something stale with me. |
CELIA | I pray you, one of you question yond man |
| If he for gold will give us any food: |
| I faint almost to death. |
TOUCHSTONE | Holla, you clown! |
ROSALIND | Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. |
CORIN | Who calls? |
TOUCHSTONE | Your betters, sir. |
CORIN | Else are they very wretched. |
ROSALIND | Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. |
CORIN | And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. |
ROSALIND | I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold |
| Can in this desert place buy entertainment, |
| Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: |
| Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd | 70 |
| And faints for succor. |
CORIN | Fair sir, I pity her |
| And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, |
| My fortunes were more able to relieve her; |
| But I am shepherd to another man |
| And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: |
| My master is of churlish disposition |
| And little recks to find the way to heaven |
| By doing deeds of hospitality: |
| Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed |
| Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, | 80 |
| By reason of his absence, there is nothing |
| That you will feed on; but what is, come see. |
| And in my voice most welcome shall you be. |
ROSALIND | What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? |
CORIN | That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, |
| That little cares for buying any thing. |
ROSALIND | 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. |
CELIA | And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. |
| And willingly could waste my time in it. | 91 |
CORIN | Assuredly the thing is to be sold: |
| Go with me: if you like upon report |
| The soil, the profit and this kind of life, |
| I will your very faithful feeder be |
| And buy it with your gold right suddenly. |
[Exeunt] |