HEDRICK HALL LIBRARY SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDY OF AS YOU LIKE IT. EDITED, WITH NOTES, WILLIAM J. ROLFK, Lirr.D., FOKMERLY HEAD MASTBR OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMHHIDGB, MASS. ll'/r/f EXGRAl'lNGS. M-.\V YORK AM' LONDON : 11 A R l> K k X II U O T II I. k S, 1' U I! I. I S II V. k S, ,897. ENGLISH CLASSICS. EDITKD BY WM. J. ROLFE, LITT. D. Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, .56 cents per volume : Paper, 40 cents per volume. SHAKKSPI Tlie Merchant of Venice. Othello. Julius Cassar. A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Macbeth. Hamlet. Much Ado about Nothing. Romeo and Juliet. As You Like It. The Teni|>est. Twelfth Night. The Winter's Tale. Kins; John. Richard II. Henry IV. Part I. Henry IV. Part II. Henry V. Henry VI. Part I. Henry VI Part II. Henry VI. Part III. RE'S WORKS. Richard III". Henry VIII King Lear. The Taming of the Shrew. A;\ '-, Wei,' that Ends Well. Coriolanus. The Comedy of Krrors. Cymbeline. Antony and Cleopatra. Measure for Measure. Merry Wives of Windsor. Love s Labour 's Lost. Two Gentlemen of Verona. Timon of Athens. Troilus and Cressida. Pericles. Prince of Tyre. The Two Noble Kinsmen. Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, etc Sonnets. Titus Andronicus. GOLDSMITH'S SELECT POEMS. GRAY'S SELECT POEMS. MINOR POEMS OK JOHN MII.TON. WORDSWORTH' BROWNING'S SELECT POEMS. BROWNING'S SELECT DRAMAS. MACAI;I,AY'S LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME s SELECT POEMS. PUBLISHED MY HARPKR & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. ^ The above works fire far sale bv nil booksellers, or they will be sent by HARPEK it BROTHERS to any nddn-ss it receipt of frier us quoted- If or,lerft{ sent by until, 10 per cent, shoulti be added to the price to cover cost pff.ost.ixe. Copyright, 1X77, by HAUIT:K & BROTIIKUS. Hedrick Hall, Library SRLfc .UN. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION TO As You LIKE IT 9 I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY 9 II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT 1 1 III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PI.AY 1 1 AS YOU LIKE IT 27 ACT 1 29 " II 48 " III 66 " IV 89 " V 102 NOTKS 117 THE FOREST OF ARDKN. I N T R O D U C T I O N AS YOU LIKE I T. I. TIIF. HISTORY OK THF. i'l.AY. As You Like It was first prink'd, so far as we kno\v, in the folio of 1623. where it occupies pages 185-207 in the division of " Comedies." The earliest notice ot it bv name is found in the Registers of the Stationers' Company, on a leal which does not belong to the regular records, but contains miscel- io AS YOU LIKE IT. laneous entries, notes, etc. Between two of these, the onft dated in May, 1600, and the other in June, 1603, occurs the following memorandum :* 4. August! As you like yt / a booke Henry the ffift / a booke Euery man in his humour / a booke The commeclie of muche A doo about nothing a booke / Kto be staied. All these "books" are stated to be "my lord chamberlens menns plaies," which confirms Malone's opinion that the en- try refers to the year 1600. Henry V. and Much Ado About Nothing were duly licensed (the former on the i4th and the latter on the 23d of August) and published that year ; and it is not likely that the plays would have been "staied" after the publication of two of them. The prohibition was prob- ably removed soon after it was recorded ; and, as Halliweli suggests, the clerk may not have considered it worth the formality of a note in the body of the register. On the other hand, As You Like It is not mentioned by Meres in his enumeration of Shakespeare's plays f in 2\il- ladis Tamia, which was published in September, 1598 ; and it contains a quotation (see iii. 5. 80) from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, the earliest known edition of which appeared in the same year. It may therefore be reasonably concluded, * We print this as Wright gives it. In Halliwell's folio ed. it appears thus : 4 August!. As yc.u like yt, a hook. Henry the ffift, a book. Kvery man j in his humor, a book. The Commeclie of Much Adoo about nothinge, | To be staied. a book. ) Collier gives it twice (in the introductions to Alitch Ado and A. Y. /,.), but the versions do not agree with each other or with either of the above. The matter is of little importance, and we refer to it only as illustrating one of the minor trials of an editor who cannot refer to original docu- ments, but has to depend on copies made by others. t See the passage in our ed. of.]/. .V. J), p. y. INTRODUCTION. II as nearly all the commentators agree, that As You Like It was written between September, 1598, and August, 1600: probably in the year 1599. II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT. Shakespeare was chiefly indebted for the story of the play to a novel by Thomas Lodge, published in 1590 under the title of " Rosalynde, Euphues Golden Legacie, found after his death in his Cell at Silexedra, bequeathed to Philautus sonnes noursed up with their father in England, Fetcht from the Canaries by T. L., gent., Imprinted by T. Orwin for T. G. and John Busbie, 1590."* This book was reprinted in 1592, and eight editions are known to have appeared before 1643. How closely the poet followed the novel may be seen by the extracts from the latter printed in our Notes below. We may add here that Lodge took some of the main in- cidents of his novel from The Cokes Tale of Gamclyn, which is found in a few of the later manuscripts of the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer, but which the best editors of that poet believe to be the production of another writer. III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. [From HaziitCs 'Characters of Shakcsfcars /'/,m."t] Shakespear has here converted the forest of Ardcn into another Arcadia, where they " rleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world." It is the most ideal of any of this author's plays. It is a pastoral drama, in which the interest arises more out of the sentiments and characters than out of the actions or situations. It is not what is done, but what is said, that claims our attention. Nursed in soli- tude, "under the shade of melancholy boughs," the imagina- tion grows soft and delicate, and the wit runs riot in idleness, * I'o^ibly the poet used a lost play based upon the novel. t C/iaraftfn of S/iai-spear's Flays, by William llazlitt (London, 1817), p. 305 tol. 12 AS YOU LIKE IT. like a spoiled child that is never sent to school. Caprice and fancy reign and revel here, and stern necessity is ban- ished to the court. The mild sentiments of humanity are strengthened with thought and leisure ; the echo of the cares and noise of the world strikes upon the ear of those " who have felt them knowingly," softened by time and distance. "They hear the tumult, and are still." The very air of the place seems to breathe a spirit of philosophical poetry ; to stir the thoughts, to touch the heart with pity, as the drowsy forest rustles to the sighing gale. Never was there such beautiful moralizing, equally free from pedantry or petu lance : "And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything." There is hardly any of Shakespear's plays that contains a greater number of passages that have been quoted in books of extracts, or a greater number of phrases that have become in a manner proverbial. If we were to give all the striking passages, we should give half the play. We will only recall a few of the most delightful to the reader's recollection. Such are the meeting between Orlando and Adam ; the ex- quisite appeal of Orlando to the humanity of the Duke and his company to supply him with food for the old man, and their answer; the Duke's description of a country life, and the account of Jaques moralizing on the wounded deer; his meeting with Touchstone in the forest, his apology for his own melancholy and his satirical vein, and the well-known speech on the stages of human life; the old song of " Blow, blow, thou winter's wind ;" Rosalind's description of the marks of a lover, and of the progress of time with different persons ; the picture of the snake wreathed around Oliver's body while the lioness watches her sleeping prey ; Touch- stone's lecture to the shepherd, his defence of cuckolds, and panegyric on the virtues of "an If." All of these are familiar IN TROD UC T1ON. to the reader : there is one passage of equal delicacy and beauty which may have escaped him, and with it we shall close our account of As You Like It. It is Phebe's descrip- tion of Ganymede, at the end of the third act : "Think not I love him, though I ask for him," etc. [iii. 5. 108-128]. [from I't'rflancFs Introduction to the This comedy, at once romantic, philosophical, and pictur esque, is in its way one of iis author's most peculiar and original works original, indeed, in everything but the rougli materials of the story, and peculiar in all its poetic and dramatic characteristics. In addition to the interest it de- rives from its varied beauties, it has also that of belonging to a remarkable epoch of Shakespeare's intellectual life that of the perfection of his art and taste in that especial walk of poetical comedy of which he had been the inventor and which was the chief occupation of his genius from the beginning of his career of dramatic authorship, during the brilliant and crowded years of his youth and ripening man- hood, until he approached middle life. Wiien he entered upon that dramatic career, he found English tragedy not such certainly as he afterwards made it, in depth of passion or in moral truth, yet fully formed as a part of the national literature, and possessing many productions of great though unequal merits. Even the tragedies of the preceding gen- eration had their share of bold and true conception mixed with their extravagance, and (as Sir Philip Sidney, the stern censurer of their defects, allowed) "were full of stately speeches and well-sounding phrases ;" while -Shakespeare's immediate dramatic predecessors, Peel and Kyd and (Iieene, were fertile in glowing imagery and invention, and Marlowe had clothed much magnificence ot thought and declamatory passion in that flowing and "mighty line'" so much admired * Tlu- Ilntstritttd Sliah-sfcLti-c, edited by C. C. Yerphuck (New York. 1847), vol. ii. p. 5 o! A. Y. I.. T4 AS YOU LIKE IT. by his contemporaries. Shakespeare did not shrink from measuring his strength with these dramatists at an early period, and not to speak of Pericles, or more doubtful pieces gave the bright promise of his future glories in his first form of Romeo and Juliet, and probably of Ilamlet, as well as in the heroic scenes of several of his historical dramas. But these appear to have been the occasional employment of his genius, when excited by some congenial theme ; while he discovered before him a wide province of poetic art and invention unoccupied by any predecessor, and open to his sway. The comedy of the English stage, so far as the drama could be said to have assumed that form at all, was but a coarse farce, having no higher or other object in view than " to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh." Shakespeare seems, at the very first, to have formed to himself a different conception of the object and character of the poetic comedy. Even in his first regular effort, the Two Gentlemen of Verona, he embodied his leading idea as distinctly as in after-works of far more exquisite ex- ecution. Of all genuine comedy, the delineation and ex- hibition of character must be the foundation; but the pecul- iarity of Shakespeare is that he does this not merely in the spirit of the satirist, or the faithful painter of humorous ab- surdity, but constantly entwines and contrasts the whole with the most refined forms of grace and beauty, with the poetry of fancy, of sentiment, and even of moral meditation. Upon this new and rich field of invention he entered with the ardour and high relish of youth ; so that, between the year 1584 and 1602. he had given to our language thirteen dramatic productions, original in their very conception and character, as combining exquisite truth of character and scenes of the wildest drollery with romantic grace and evciy form of purely poetic fancy. I include in these productions, together with his comedies wiitten within the above dates, the two parts of Henry 11'. and Henry /'., as stamped with INTRODUCTION. 15 the same characteristics ; the poetry of high heroic song there supplying the same effect of contrast to the mirthful that results from the poetry of the gentler passions and the pure fancy in his professed comedies. The whole of these were without any model in any preceding literature, as they are without equals in that of any other age or nation. It is worthy of observation that the only work of humour, in which he neglected this principle of contrast, was the Merry Wives of Windsor, in its earlier form ; and that he considered it of so much importance to the effect of even such a pure ex- hibition of contemporary English life, in its most domestic aspect, that in his revision of the play he rejected the con- cluding very pleasant and appropriate scene, to substitute some fragments of a pure chivalric and legendary poetry. For the same purpose of enabling himself thus to associate, in one mixed impression upon his audience, the higher graces of imagination with laugh-provoking images and in- cidents, he generally selected such scenes of action and periods of time as might be associated wi:h legendary and romantic recollections, instead of painting the men and women of his country and times in their every-day costume. In separately analyzing his comedies, it is very perceptible how, in each new effort, the work became more peculiarly conformed to that pervading idea of poetic comedy, while the execution became more perfect in itself, and more free from whatever he had imbibed merely from the taste of the age or the writings of contemporaries. In his first comedies, we find the humour verging to farce, and contrasted chiefly with the dialogue of artificial though often sparkling wit ; and when these are relieved, as they so frequently are, by purer poetry, these beauties are rather those of the masque, the sonnet, or the pastoral, then belonging to dramatic per- sonation of life. These characteristics, as well as the rhyming dialogues, were thrown aside more and more in the Poet's progress, 1 6 AS YOU L/A'E IT. while a graver and. at times, a more didactic morality gradu- ally mingled itscir with the luxuriant sweetness of his verse, and the revelling jollity of his prose scenes ; and at the same time his wider intercourse with varied society is attested by the boldness and freedom with which he marks and individ- ualizes the personages who throng with such infinite variety through his crowded and living scenes. To the close of this progressive creation of the peculiarly Shakespearian, or poetic and romantic comedy, during the brilliant summer of the author's youth, and to the era of the perfection of his style, As You Like It belongs a period of the author's intellectual history which was soon to end with the Twelfth Night ; after which graver thoughts took fuller possession of his mind, and he turned away from the more brilliant aspect of the world and the playful exposure of its follies and frailties, to deal with man's sufferings and crimes, his darker and sterner emotions max in rdiictantes dm c ones. . . . The prevailing characteristic of this comedy has been noted by Mr. Hallam, with his usual philosophical discrim- ination; and it corresponds well with the period of the au- thor's rapidly evolving genius, as marked by other evidence. "In no other play do we find the bright imagination and fascinating grace of Shakespeaie's youth so mingled with the thoughtfulness of his maturer age." . . . Equally original in its poetical character with the Midsummer-Night's Dream and The Tempest, it differs from both in this that they are founded on the fanciful mingling of the supernatural with the natural, while here all is human and natural, and yet throughout it is idealized truth. The time and place and manners arc thrown out of the definite into the undefined time and region, where and when the heroes and ladies of chivalric poetry were wont to "fleet the time carelessly ns they did in the golden world." Charles Lamb used to call Lores Labour s Lost the " Comedy of Leisure," because its INTROD UC TION. T 7 personages not only "led purely ornamental lives" but were well content to do so, and, having nothing to do, did it agree- ably. He might havfe given the title in a higher sense to As You Like It, where the pervading feeling is that of a re- fined and tasteful, yet simple and unaffected throwing off the stiff "lendings" of artificial society: and this is done by those who had worn those trappings with ease and grace. The humour too is toned down to suit the general impres- sion, being odd, fanciful, gay, and whimsical, without much connection with the more substantial absurdities of the real " work-day world." As You Like It is less magnificent than the Merchant of Venice, which had not long preceded it, and less exhilarating than the Twelfth Night, which soon followed it ; and yet it keeps up and leaves a more uniformly pleas- urable impression than either. [From .1/rs. Janicsoii's " Characteristics of Women." *] Rosalind is like a compound of essences, so volatile in their nature, and so exquisitely blended, that on any attempt to analyze them, they seem to escape us. To what else shall we compare her, all-enchanting as she is? to the silvery sum- mer clouds which, even while we gaze on them, shift their hues and forms, dissolving into air, and light, and rainbow showers ? to the May-morning, flush \vith opening blossoms and roseate dews, and " charm of earliest birds ?" to some wild and beautiful melody, such as some shepherd boy might "pipe to Amaryllis in the shade?" to a mountain streamlet, now smooth as a mirror in which the skies may glass them- selves, and anon leaping and sparkling in the sunshine or rather to the very sunshine itself ? for so her genial spirit touches into life and beauty whatever it. shines on ! ... Everything about Rosalind breathes of "youth and youth's sweet prime." She is fresh as the morning, sweet as the dew-awakened blossoms, and light as the breeze that plays * American cd. (lioston, 1857), p. no lul. ii 1 8 AS YOU LIKE IT. among them. She is as witty, as voluble, as sprightly as Beatrice; but in a style altogether distinct. In both, the wit is equally unconscious; but in Beatrice it plays about us like the lightning, dazzling but also alarming; while the wit of Rosalind bubbles up and sparkles like the living fountain, refreshing all around. Her volubility is like the bird's song; it is the outpouring of a heart filled to overflowing with life, love, and joy, and all sweet and affectionate impulses. She has as much tenderness as mirth, and in her most petulant raillery there is a touch of softness " By this hand, it will not hurt a fly !" As her vivacity never lessens our impres- sion of her sensibility, so she wears her masculine attire without the slightest impugnment of her delicacy. . . . Rosa- lind has in truth "no doublet and hose in her disposition." How her heart seems to throb and flutter under her page's vest ! What depth of love in her passion for Orlando ! whether disguised beneath a saucy playfulness, or breaking forth with a fond impatience, or half betrayed in that beau- tiful scene where she faints at the sight of his 'kerchief stained with his blood ! Here her recovery of her self- possession her fears lest she should have revealed her sex her presence of mind, and quick-witted excuse " I pray you, tell your brother how well I eountcrfeitcd " and the characteristic playfulness which seems to return so naturally with her recovered senses are all as amusing as consistent. Then how beautifully is the dialogue man- aged between herself and Orlando! how well she assumes the airs of a saucy page, without throwing off her feminine sweetness! How her wit flutters free as air over every sub- ject ! With what a careless grace, yet with what exquisite propriety ! " For innocence hath a privilege in her To dignify arch jests and laughing eyes." And if the freedom of some of the expressions used by IN TROD UCTION. 1 9 Rosalind or Beatrice be objected to, let it be remembered that this was not the fault of Shakspeare or the women, but generally of the age. Portia, Beatrice, Rosalind, and the rest lived in times when more importance was attached to things than to words; now we think more of words than of things ; and happy are we in these later days of super- refinement, if we are to be saved by our verbal morality. But this is meddling with the province of the melancholy Jaques, and our argument is Rosalind. . . . Rosalind has not the impressive eloquence of Portia, nor the sweet wisdom of Isabella. Her longest speeches are not her best; nor is her taunting address to Phebe, beautiful and celebrated as it is, equal to Phebe's own description of her. The latter, indeed, is more in earnest.* Celia is more quiet and retired: but she rather yields to Rosalind than is eclipsed by her. She is as full of sweet- ness, kindness, and intelligence, quite as susceptible, and almost r.s witty, though she makes less display of wit. She is described as less fair and less gifted; yet the attempt to excite in her mind a jealousy of her lovelier friend, by placing them in comparison "Thou art a fool; she robs thee of thy name; And thou \vilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous, \Vhen she is gone'' fails to awaken in the generous heart of Celia any other feeling than an increased tenderness and sympathy for her cousin. To Celia, Shakspeare has given some of the most striking and animated parts of the dialogue ; and in particu- * Rousseau could describe such a character as Rosalind, but failed to represent it consistently: " X'est-ce pas de ton cieur ([lie vicnnent les graces de ton enjouement ? Tcs railleries sont des sixties d'interet phis touchants (|iic les compliments d'un autrc. Tu caresses ijuand tu folatres. 'I'u ris, inais ton lire penetiv 1'ame ; tu ris, mais tu tais pletirer de tcndressc, et je te vois presque toujours serieuse avec les inditteieiUs" 20 AS YOU LIKE IT. lar, that exquisite description of the friendship between he and Rosalind ' IT she be a traitor, Why, so am I ; we have still slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'cl, cat together, And wheresoe'er \ve went, like Juno's swans, Still we were coupled and inseparable." The feeling of interest and admiration thus excited for Celia at the first follows her through the whole play. We listen to her as to one who has made herself worthy of our love; and her silence expresses more than eloquence. Phebe is quite an Arcadian coquette; she is a piece of pastoral poetry. Audrey is only rustic. A very amusing effect is produced by the contrast between the frank and free bearing of the two princesses in disguise, and the scorn ful airs of the real shepherdess. In the speeches of Phebe, and in the dialogue between her and Sylvius, Shakspeare has anticipated all the beauties of Ihe Italian pastoral, and surpassed Tasso and (Juarini. We find two among the most poetical passages of the play appropriated to Phebe: the taunting speech to Sylvius, and the description of Rosalind in her page's costume which last is finer than the portrait of Bathyllus in Anacreon. [/>/;/ Doi^lcns " Sh.iksfo;-:' *] Shakspere, when he had completed his Knglish historical plays, needed rest for his imagination : and in such a mood, craving refreshment and recreation, he wrote his play of As You J.ikc Jt. To understand the spirit of this play, we must bear in mind that it was written immediately after Shakspere's great series of histories, ending with Jlcnry I'. (i5<;<;), and before lie began the great se:ies of tragedies. Shakspere turned with a srii.se nt ivliet, and a long easeful INTRODUCTION. 2 1 sigh, from the oppressive subjects of history, so grave, so real, so massive, and found rest and freedom and pleasure in escape from courts and camps to the Forest of Arden : " Who cloth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the .sun, Come hither, come hither, come hither." In somewhat the same spirit, needing relief for an over- strained imagination, he wrote his other pastoral drama, 27ic Winter s Tale, immediately or almost immediately after Timon of Athens. In each case he chose a graceful story in great part made ready to his hand, from among the prose writings of his early contemporaries, Thomas Lodge and Robert Greene. Like the banished Duke, Shakspere him- self found the forest-life of Arden more sweet than that of painted pomp; a life ''exempt from public haunt," in a quiet retreat, \\here for turbulent citizens the deer, "poor dappled fools," are the only native burghers. . . . Upon the whole, As You 1 ike It is the sweetest and hap- piest of all Shakspere's comedies. No one suffers; no one lives an eager intense life; there is no tragic interest in it as there is in The Merchant of I'cnicc, as there is in Much Ado About Nothing. It is mirthful, but the mirth is sprightly, graceful, exquisite ; there is none of the rollicking fun of a Sir Toby here; the songs are not " co/iers' catches" shout- ed in the night-time, " without any mitigation or remorse of voice," but the solos and duets of pages in the wild-wood, or the noisier chorus of foresters. The wit of Touchstone is not mere clownage, nor has it any indirect serious signifi- cances; it is a dainty kind of absurdity worthy to hold com- parison with the melancholy of Jaques. And Orlando in the beauty and strength of early manhood, and Rosalind ''A u:\ll.mt curtlc-axe upon her thii;h, A boar-spear in IHT hand." and the bright, tender, loyal womanhood within arc figures which quicken and restore our spirits, as mu-Mc does, \\hich 22 AS YOU LIKE IT. is neither noisy nor superficial, and yet which knows little of the deep passion and sorrow of the world. Shakspere, when he wrote this idyllic play, was himself in his Forest of Arclen. He had ended one great ambition the historical plays and not yet commenced his tragedies. It was a resting-place. He sends his imagination into the woods to find repose. Instead of the court and camps of England, and the embattled plains of France, here was this woodland scene, where the palm-tree, the lioness, and the serpent are to be found, possessed of a flora and a fauna that flourish in spite of physical geographers. There is an open-air feeling throughout the play. The dialogue, as has been observed, catches freedom and freshness from the at- mosphere. " Never is the scene within-doors, except when something discordant is introduced to heighten as it were the harmony."* After the trumpet-tones of Henry V. comes the sweet pastoral strain, so bright, so tender. Must it not all be in keeping? Shakspere was not trying to control his melancholy. When he needed to do that, Shakspere con- fronted his melancholy very passionately, and looked it full in the face. Here he needed refreshment, a sunlight tem- pered by forest-boughs, a breeze upon his forehead, a stream murmuring in his ears, f * C. A. lirown: Shakespeare's Autobiographical Poems, p. 283. t Heblcr (Aufsdtze iibcr Shakespeare, p. 195) writes of As You Like It. " Ks ist cine Waldcur fur Hoflcute, die zum Ciliick mil heutigcn Had- odcr Luftcurcn das gerncin hat, dass viele Gesundc dabei sind. So vor Allen Orlando und Rosalinde, fiir welche heide die Cur kcine andcre Bcdeutung hat als ihrc Liebe auf die lieblichstc Weisc zur Krscheinung und Reife zu bringen, wahrend das voriibergehend Hedenkliche ihrcr I, age den Alles, selbst die Licbe noch, vcrschoncnden Collet funken des I Illinois hervnrlockt. D.ineben der Contrast der blossen lieben Natur in dem SchSferpaJirehcn, nnd die lieitere 1'arodie des idyllise hen I loflebens in der Heirath des N'arren init einem Landmadehcn, wiihrend der IH.isirte (Jaqucs) aurh der trix hesteii Natur seine eigene l''arbe ankrankclt." INTRODUCTION. 23 [From Mr. F. J. Furnivairs Introduction to the ffay.*] "The sweetest and happiest of Shakspere's comedies," says Professor Dowden. Yes, sweetest, because the sweet- ness has been drawn from the bitters of life : happiest, be- cause the happiness has sprung from, has overcome, sorrow and suffering. What most we prize is misfortune borne with cheery mind, the sun of man's spirit shining through and dispersing the clouds that strive to shade it.t And surely this is the spirit of the play. The play goes back, too, to the old Robin Hood spirit of England, to that same love of country and of forest and of adventure which still sends our men all over the world, and empties yearly our women out of town : " They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world ;" or, as Orlando puts the other side of it " In this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time." * The Leopold Shakspere (London, 1877), p. Ivii (by permission). t My friend Dr. Ingleby says on this, "The moral of the play is much more concrete. It is not, how to bear misfortune with cheery mind, but, lunv to read the lessons in the vicissitudes of physical nature." This is what the banisht Duke says as to "the penalty of Adam,'' and what Amiens says in " Blow, blow, thou winter wind !" and " Under the greenwood tree." Everywhere it is " in these inclement skies we shall feel what we are, but find no enemy. We who have known the insincer- ity of flattery, covering ingratitude and backbiting, shall here find frank and outspoken friends, who teach us to read the message of cold winds, etc. ; and through that, make us believe that all adversity has its uses and, sweet ones." "Sweet are the uses of adversity. ..." " Happy is your grace, That can translate tne stubbornnesses of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style." 24 AS YOU LIKE IT. It is true this is not Prospero's task, but Shakspere is in his Second Period, not his Fourth. We are out of all wrangle of court and struggle of camp, in this forest of enchantment, Arden, where lions and palms and serpents grow, where ambition is shunnd, and all are pleased with what they get. 'Tis Chaucer's " Flee fro the pres and dwelle with sooth- fastnesse," his "Former Age;" a fancy picture if you will; but let us enjoy it while we may. The picture is not painted in the same high key of colour as Much Ado. Instead of the hot sun of Beatrice's and Benedick's sharp wit-combats, with its golden reds and yellows, backt by the dark clouds of Hero's terrible distress, we have a picture of greys and greens and blues, lit through a soft haze of silvery light. Rosalind's rippling laugh comes to us from the far-off forest glades, and the wedded couples' sweet content reaches us as a strain of distant melody. The play stretches backwards and forwards as Much Ado does: back to the First Period, Lore's Labours Lost. The scene is the Forest of Arden, like the King of Navarre's park; the early Stratford wood- land life is in both. And in both is the same almost child- ish love of the girl tormenting her sweetheart by assuming or continuing unnecessary disguises, the lover's writing of verses, the hunting, etc. ; the names Rosaline and Rosalind, and certain points of likeness between their owners. Miss Baillie says, "The way in which Rosalind delights in teasing Orlando is essentially womanly. There are many women who take unaccountable pleasure in causing pain to those they love, for the sake of healing it afterwards." The love at first sight is like that in Lore" s Labours Lost, and Touch- stone and Audrey are a far better Armado and Jacquenetta. To Midsummer- Wight" s Dream this play is linkt by its en- chanted land, and its pretty picture of Rosalind's and Ce- lia's friendship matching that of Helena and Hermia. With The Merchant we get the links of Rosalind's description of her dressing as a man, like Portia's (and Julia's ir. The Two INTRODUCTION. 25 Gentlemen}^ while the melancholy of Jaques reminds us, in name, of that of Antonio in The Merchant. Rosalind's de- scription of herself as "one out of suits with fortune" suits Portia's " My little body is aweary of this great world." The reach forward of the play is most interesting in its anticipation of the Fourth-Period lesson,* that repentance and reconciliation are better than revenge, taught by the two instances of Oliver and Duke Frederick; while in Peri- cles we see that Marina is to be killed because she stained her friend Cleon's daughter, as Duke Frederick justifies his cruelty to Rosalind because she throws Celia into the shade. One cannot also forget the fool here, "who'll go along o'er the wide world with Celia," when thinking of Lear's fool, who'd never been happy since his young mistress went to France. And we may remember, too, Shakspere's quotation here from his dead friend Marlowe's Hero and Leandcr, first printed in 1598: "Dead shepherd, now I find tny saw of might, 'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?'" * Mr. Furnivall makes the following classification ot" Shakespeare's plays and poems : FIRST PKRinn (? 1588-1594): a. The Comedy of Mrrors or Mistaken- Identity Croup : /crv-V Labours Lost; 'J'he Comedy of Errors ; A Midsummer- Nighfs Dream. b. Link-play: T/ie Tii'o Gentlemen of I'erona. c. The Passion Croup: Romeo and Juliet; I'eniis and Adonis; Lucrece. d. The Marly Histories: Richard II.; I, 2, 3 Henrv I'/,; Richard III. SECOND PKRIOD (? 1595-1601): a. The Life-plea Croup; a History and Comedy: Kin^ John; The Merchant a f I'. -nice. b. A Farce : The Taming of the Shre-i>. C. The three Comedies of Falstaff, with the Trilogy <>f Henrv //' and /'.: I Henry //'.; 2 Henry //'.; The Men v 11 Vrv.i ,- Henry y. 2 6 4-S YOU LIKE IT. d. The three Sunny or Sweet-Time Comedies : Much Ado ; As You Like It; Twelfth Night. e. The Darkening Comedy: AlPs Well, THIRD PERIOD (1601-1608): a. The Unfit-Nature or Under- Burden-failing Group: Julius Casar; Ifamlet ; Measure for Measure. b. The Tempter-yielding Group : Othello; Macbeth. c. The First Ingratitude and Cursing Play: King Lear. d. The Lust or P'alse-Love Group : Troilus and Cressida; Antony and Cleopatra. e. The Second Ingratitude or Cursing Group: Coriolanus ; Timon of Athens. FOURTH PKRIOD (1609-1613) : All of Re-union, of Reconciliation and Forgiveness: a. By Men : Pericles; The Tempest. b. By Women (mainly): Cymbeline : The Winter's Tale; Henry VIII, In this classification Titus Andronicus is omitted as " not Shak- spere's." The Passio*iate Pilgrim (? 1589-1599) and the Sonnets (? 1592^ 1608) are considered separately, the latter having an elaborate classifi- cation of their o\\n. \Ve have not thought it worth while to interfere with Mr. Furnivall's orthographical eccentricities (''hanisht," "shunnd," and the like), nor with his version of the title of Lena's Labour's Lost. The folio, by the way, gives this last uniformly " Loues Labour's lost" in the title and head-lines of the play. In the table of contents it has " Lmies Labour Lost." The title-page of the quarto of 1598, according to several author- ities, reads " Loucs labors lost." ( sons of Sir Rowland dc Boys. ORLANDO, ) ADAM, ) servants to Oliver. DENNIS, ) Toi'CHSTONE, a clown. AUDREY, a country wench. Lords, pages, and attendants, etc. SCHVF. : Oliver's house ; Duke FrtdericKs cjurt ; and tlic Forest of A rdcn. " To liberty, and nut to banishment" (i. 3. 136). ACT I. ScEXF. I. Orchard of Oliver's House. Enter OKI.ANDO and ADAM. Orlando. As I remember, Adam, it \vas upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldcnly of his profit : for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept ; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that (hey are fair with their feeding, they arc taught tiieir manage, and to that end riders deaily hired: 3 AS YOU LIKE IT. but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth ; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his counte- nance seems to take from me : he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise rem- edy how to avoid it. 22 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Enter OLIVER. Oliver. Now, sir ! what make you here ? Orlando. Nothing : I am not taught to make any thing. Oiticr. What mar you then, sir? Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idle- ness. IT Olircr. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. Orlando. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury ? Olircr. Know you where you are, sir? Orlando. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard. Oliver. Know you before whom, sir ? 39 Orlando. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother ; and, in tiie gentle condi- tion of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born ; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there ACT I. SCENE f. 31 twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. Oliver. What, boy ! Orlando. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. 5 o Oliver. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? Orlando. I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys : he was my father, and he is thrice a vil- iain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast railed on thyself. Adam. Sweet masters, be patient : for your father's re- membrance, be at accord. Oliver. Let me go, I say. 60 Orlando. I will not, till I please : you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gen- tleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oliver. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be troubled with you ; you shall have some part of your will : I pray you, leave me. 12 Orlando. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oliver. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, T have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. \Excunt Orlando and Adam. 3 2 AS YOU LIKE IT. Oliver. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? 1 will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis ! 81 Enter DENNIS. Dennis. Calls your worship? Oliver. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me ? Dennis. So please you, he is here at the door and im- portunes access to you. Oliver. Call him in. \Exit Dennis.'} T will be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHARLES. Charles. Good morrow to your worship. Oliver. Good Monsieur Charles, what 's the new news at the new court ? m Charles. There 's no news at the court, sir, but the old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke ; and three or lour loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke ; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oliver. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father? ./j Charles. (), no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay be- hind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter ; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oliver. Where will the old duke live? Charles. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, ai id a many merry men with him ; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young ACT I. SCENE I. 33 gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time care- lessly, as they did in the golden world. m Oliver. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Charles. Marry, do I, sir ; and i came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit ; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender ; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will. 124 Oliver. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shah find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under- hand means laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I '11 tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother ; therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to 't ; for if thou dost him any slight dis- grace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treach- erous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other : for, I assure thee, and al- most with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him : but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. n- Charlcs. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I '11 give him his payment. If ever he go C 34 AS YOU LIKE IT. alone again, I '11 never wrestle for prize more : and so, God keep your worship ! Oliver. Farewell, good Charles. {Exit Charles^ Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. [Exif. SCENE II. Lawn before tJic Dukes l\ilace. Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. Cclia. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Rosalind. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am nv's- tress of; and would you yet 1 were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Celia. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had ban- ished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine : so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee. n Rosalind. Well, 1 will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Celia. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection: by mine lionom, J will, and when I break that oath, Irt me turn monster ! There- fore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. ACT I. SCENE II. 35 Rosahnd. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see ; what think you of falling in love: 21 Celia. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal : but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. Rosalind. What shall be our sport, then ? Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. 29 Rosalind. I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Celia. T is true ; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. Rosalind. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. 38 Enter TOUCHSTONE. Celia. No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to rlout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument ? Rosalind. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Na- ture's wit. Celia. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but Nature's ; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone ; for always the dulness of the fool is the whet- sione of the wits. How now, wit ! whither wander you ? 50 Touchstone. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Celia. Were you made the messenger ? 3 6 AS YOU LIKE IT. Touchstone. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. Rosalind. Where learned you that oath, fool ? Touchstone. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mus- tard was naught : now I '11 stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. 60 Celia. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge ? Rosalind. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touchstone. Stand you both forth now : stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Celia. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touchstone. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were ; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn : no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, lor he never had any ; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. 71 Celia. Prithee, who is 't that thou meanest? Touchstone. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Celia. My father's love is enough to honour him enough: speak no more of him ; you '11 be whipped for taxation one of these clays. Touchstone. The more pity, that fools may not speak wise- ly what wise men do foolishly. Celia. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little \viX_that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 82 Rosalind. With his mouth full of news. Celia. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind. Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. ACT I. SCENE II. 37 Enter LE BEAU. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : what 's the news ? Lc Bean. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. Celia, Sport! of what colour ? oo I^e Beau. What colour, madam ? how shall I answer you.? Rosalind. As wit and fortune w^ill. Touchstone. Or as the destinies decree. Celia. Well said : that was laid on with a trowel. Touchstone. Nay, if I keep not my rank, Rosalind. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. You umn/e me, ladies : I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. Rosalind. Vet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 99 Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning ; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end : for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. Cdia. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons, Celia. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence, Rosalind. With bills on their necks, ' Be it known unto all men by these presents.' .09 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Ven- der they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his pan with weeping. Rosalind. Alas ! Touchstone. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the In- dies have lost ? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 120 38 AS YOU LIKE IT. Touchstone. Thus men may grow wiser every day ! It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Celia. Or I, I promise thee. Rosalind. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon rib- breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform ii. 13" Celia. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants. Duke Frederick. Come on : since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Rosalind. Is yonder the man ? Le Beau. Even he, madam. Celia. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks successfully. Duke Frederick. How now, daughter and cousin ! are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Rosalind. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. 140 Duke Frederick. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you; there is such odds in the men. In pity of the challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. Celia. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. Duke Frederick. Do so; I '11 not be by. Lc Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for you. Orlando. I attend them with all respect and duty. 150 Rosalind. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? ACT I. SCENE II. 39 Orlando. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Celia. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength : if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. 162 Rosalind. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not there- fore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward. Orlando. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial ; wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me ; the world no in- jury, for in it I have nothing: only in the world I fill up a place which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. 175 Rosalind. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cclia. And mine, to eke out hers. Rosalind. Fare you well : pray heaven I be deceived in you ! i so Cclia. Your heart's desires be with you ! Charles. Come, where is this young gallant that is so de- sirous to lie with his mother eartli ? Orlando. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. Duke J<'rederiek. You shall try but one fall. Charles. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat 4 o AS YOU LIKE IT. him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. Orlando. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. 191 Rosalind. Now_ Hercules, be thy speed, young man ! Cdia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [27uy wrestle. Rosalind. O excellent young man ! Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. \Shout. Charles is thrown. Duke Frederick. No more, no more. Orlando. Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not yet well breathed. Z0 o Duke Frederick. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke Frederick. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ? Orlando. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland cle Boys. Duke Frederick. I would thou haclst been son to some man else. The world esteem 'd thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy : Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, 2,0 Haclst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth : I would thou haclst told me of another father. [Fxcunt Duke Frederick, train, and Le Rcau. Cclia. Were I my father, cox, would I do this? Orlando. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son; and would not change that calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick. Rosalind. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this voting man his son, 220 ACT I. SCENE II. 41 I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventur'd. Celia. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him and encourage him : My father's rough and envious disposition Sticks rnejit heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd : If you do keep your promises in love But justly as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy. Rosalind. Gentleman, \Gwing him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me, qnejout of suits with fortune, That could give more but that her hand lacks means. 230 Shall we go, coz ? Celia. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orlando. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Rosalind. He calls us back : my pride fell with my for- tunes; I '11 ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown More than your enemies. Celia. Will you go, coz ? Rosalind. Have with you. Fare you well. \_Kxennt Rosalind and Celia. Orlando. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? .>t: I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. () poor Orlando, thou art overthrown ! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. Enter I,K I!KAU. Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel vou To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd 4 2 AS yOf/ LIKE IT. High commendation, true applause, and love, Yet such is now the duke's condition That he misconstrues all that you have done. The duke is humorous: what he is, indeed, More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 250 Orlando. I thank you, sir; and, pray you, tell me this: Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling? Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter: The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. But I can tell you that of late this duke 260 Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, Grounded upon no other argument But that the people praise her for her virtues And pity her for her good father's sake ; And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. Orlando. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well. [ Exit Le Beau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; 270 From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother: But heavenly Rosalind ! \Exit. SCKXK III. A Room in the Palace. Enter CKI.IA and ROSALIND. Celia. Why, cousin ! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word ? Rosalind. Nut one to throw at a clog. ACT I. SCENE I If. 43 Celia. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me: come, lame me with reasons. Rosalind. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad with- out any. Celia. But is all this for your father ? 10 Rosalind. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-clay world! Celia. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Rosalind. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. Celia. Hem them away. Rosalind. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him. 20 Celia. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Rosalind. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! Celia. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning; these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Row- land's youngest son ? Rosalind. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. 2., Celia. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Or- lando. Rosalind. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. CJii. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? Rosalind. Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the duke. Celia. With his eves full of an-ier. 44 AS YOU LIKE IT. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke Frederick. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. Rosalind. Me, uncle ? Duke Frederick. You, ccusin: 4 Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. Rosalind. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: If with myself I hold intelligence Or have acquaintance with mine own desires. If that I do not dream or be not frantic, As I do trust I am not, then, clear uncle, Never so much as in a thought unborn t Did I offend your highness. Duke Frederick. Thus do all traitors ; 50 If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself: Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. Rosalind. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Duke Frederick. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. Rosalind. So was I when your highness took his duke- dom ; So was I when your highness banish'd him. Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, (- What 's that to me ? my father was no traitor: Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous. Cclia. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. ACT I. SCENE ///. 45 Duke Frederick. Ay, Celia ; we stay'cl her for your sake. Else had she with her father rang'cl along. Celia. I did not then entreat to have her stay; It was your pleasure and your own remorse. I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a traitor, ?> Why so am I ; we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable. Duke Frederick. She is too subtle for thet ; and her smoothness, Her very silence and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: So Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. Celia. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company. Duke Frederick. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. \Exennt Duke Frederick and Lords. Celia. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. J\osalind. I have more cause. Celia. Thou hast not, cousin' Prithee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter? Rosalind. That lie hath not. Celia. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 46 AS YOU LIKE IT. Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No : let my father seek another heir. '1 herefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us; And do not seek to take the charge upon you, oo To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I '11 go along with thee. Rosalind. Why, whither shall we go ? Cclia. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Rosalind. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Cclia. 1 '11 put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber smirch my face; no The like do you : so shall we pass along And never stir assailants. Rosalind. Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man ? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand ; and, in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will, We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances. ia - Cclia. What shall I call thee when thou art a man ? Rosalind. I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede. I5u t what will you be call'd ? Cclia. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena. Rosalind. But, cousin, what if we assay 'cl to steal ACT I. SCENE III. 47 The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? Celia. He '11 go along o'er the wide world with me ; 13^ Leave me alone to woo him. Let 's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together, Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. Now go we in content To liberty, and not to banishment. \Exeunt " Dear master, I can go no further" (ii. 6. i). ACT II. SCENE I. The Forest of Ardcn. Enter DUKK Senior, AMI ENS, and two or three Lords, like foresters. Duke Senior. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile. Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Mere feel we not the penalty of Adam. The seasons' difference, as the icy fang ACT II. SCENE 1. And churlish chicling of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery' these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are ihe uses of adversity^ Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt; Finds tongues in trees, books in. tJie_ruuuing brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in*everything. I would not change it. Amiens. Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke Senior. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gor'd. First Lord. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. To-day my lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish ; and indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heavM forth such groans That their discharge did Mietch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Cours'd one another down hi.s innocent nose D 49 50 AS YOU LIKE IT. In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool, 40 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques. Stood on the extremes! verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Duke Senior. But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; ' Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ; 5, ' 'T is right,' quoth he ; ' thus misery doth part Theflux of company.' AnonTa careless herd, FuTTof the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him. ' Ay,' quoth Jaques, ' Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 'T is just the fashion : wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we c- Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what 's worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. Duke Senior. And did you leave him in this contemplation ' Second Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke Senior. Show me the place : I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he 's full of matter. first Lord. I '11 bring you to him straight. \Exeunt. ACT II. SCENES II. AXD HI. SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke Frederick. Can it be possible that no man saw them : It cannot be : some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lont. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. Second Lord. My lord, the royriish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, to Confesses that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. Duke Frederick. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither : If he be absent, bring his brother to me; I '11 make him find him : do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail iu To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Before Olivers House. Enter (')RI.ANDO (///(/ ADAM, meeting. Orlando. Who 's there? Adam. What, my young masti-r? () my gentle master! O my sweet master! () you memory Of old Sir Rowland ! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you? 5 2 AS YOU LIKE IT. And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous duke ? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men 1 Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it ! Orlando. Why, what 's the matter? Adam. O unhappy youlh ! Come not within these doors; within this root The enemy of all your graces lives : Your brother no, no brother; yet the son Yet not the son, I will not call him son 2 Of him I was about to call his father- Hath heard your praises, and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie And you within it : if he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off. I overheard him in his practices. This is no place; this house is but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Orlando. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 3 Orlando. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my fjod 3 Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road ? This I must do, or know not what to dix, Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; ] rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns. The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, ACT II. SCENE III. 53 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 When service should in my old limbs lie lame And unregarded age in corners thrown : Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold; All this I give you. Let me be your servant: Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; I '11 do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Orlando. O good old man ! how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, 60 And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having : it is not so with thee. But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. But come thy ways; we '11 go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, \Ve '11 light upon some settled low content. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. ?0 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, lint at fourscore it is too late a week : 54 AS YOU LIKE IT. Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. [Exeunt, 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, jT^rlnnhUjj rmrl hrmp ought- to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena! Cclia. 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. n 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. Rosalind. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk. Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. Corin. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Silrius. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Corin. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now. Silvias. 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 ; .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? ACT II. SCENE IV. 55 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 J0 That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lov'd. Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! \Exit. Rosalind. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, 1 have by hard adventure found mine own. 41 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 ballet and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod in- stead 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_njn jntp strange capers: but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. S i 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 sivi-H^- against it. Rosalind. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. Touchstone. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me. Celict. I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food : v, I faint almost to death. Touchstone. Holla, you clown! 56 AS YOU LIKE IT. 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 And faints for succour. Corin. Fair sir, I pity her, 70 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, By reason of his absence, there is nothing SQ 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 shall have to pay for it of us. Celia. And we will mend thy wagc-s. 1 like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it. ^ 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, ACT II. SCENE 57 I will your very faithful feeder be, .-\nd buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Rxcunt SCENE V. The Forest. Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others. Song Amiens. Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come /lit her, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weatJier. Jaques. More, more, I prithee, more ! o Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaques. I thank it. More, I prithee, more ! I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more ! Amiens. Myvoi^ejj^rjiggeil : I know I cannot please you. Jaques. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire YOU to sing. Come, more ; another stan/o : call you 'em stanzos ? Amiens. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. Jaques. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe me nothing. Will you sing? 2.-. Amiens. More at your request than to please myself. Jaques. '\Yell then, if ever I thank any man. I '11 thank you : but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes ; and when a man thanks UK- heartily, me- thinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing ; and you that will not, hold your tongues. 5 g AS YOU LIKE IT. Amiens. Well, I '11 end the song. Sirs, cover the while ; the duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you. 30 Jaques. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company : I think of as many mat- ters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. Song. Who doth ambition shun [All together here. And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleas' d with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see 40 A T o enemy But winter and rough weather. Jaques. I '11 give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Amiens. And I '11 sing it. Jaqucs. Thus it goes : Jf it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and case, A stubborn will to please, 5 c Ducdame, ducdamc, ducdame : Here s)iall he sec Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Amiens. What 's that 'ducdame?' yaques. 'T is a Greek invocation, to call fools into a cir- cle. I '11 go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, I '11 rail against all the firstborn of Kgypt. Amiens. And I '11 go seek the duke: his banquet is pre- pared. \Exeunt severally. ACT II. SCENES VI. AND I'll. 59 SCENE VI. The Forest. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further. (>, I die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Fare- well, kind master. Orlando. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to. thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently ; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly, and I '11 be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter: and thou shall not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! \_Excunt. SCKNK VI I. The Forest. A table set out. Enter DUK.E Senior, AMIKXS, and Lords like outlaws. Dnkc Senior. I think he be transformed into a beast: For I can no where find him like a man. First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Mere was he merry, hearing of a song. Duke Senior. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have_shortlv discord in the spheres. GeTseek him ; tell him I would speak with him. Enter JAOIT.S. first Lord. lie saves my labour by his own approach. 6 AS YOU LIKE IT. Duke Senior. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company ! m What, you look merrily! jfaques. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ! a miserable world ! As J do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. ' No, sir,' quoth he, ' Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.' And then he drew a dial from his poke, 20 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock : Thus we may see,' quoth he, ' how the world wags : 'T is but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 't will be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby lijingsj^jale.' When I did hear TTfe~"mo~tley fool thus moral on the time. My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 3 o That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. () noble fool ! A worthy fool ! Motley 's the only wear. Duke Senior. What fool is this? Jaqites. () worthy fool ! One that hath been a courtier, And says, 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 4 ,-, With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. () that I were a fool! 1 am ambitious for a motley coat. ACT II. SCENE Vlf. 6l Duke Senior. Thou shall have one. Jaques. It is my only suit ; Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : And they that are most galled with my folly, 50 They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The ' why ' is plain as way to parish church : He that a fool cloth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, But to seem senseless of the bob : if not, The wise man's folly is anatomix'd Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Invest me in my motley; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. Duke Senior. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst do. Jaqites. What, for a counter, would I do but good ? Duke Senior. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin ; For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all the embossed sores and headed evils That thou with license of free foot hast caught Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. Jaques. Why, who cries out on pride, That can therein tax ai.y private party? Doth it not How as hugely as the sea, Till that tile wearer's very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name When that 1 say the city woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 62 <*S YOU LIKE IT. Who can come in and say that I mean her, When such a one as she such is her neighbour ? Or what is he of basest function That says his bravery is not on my cost, P O Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech 5 There then ; how then ? what then ? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'cl him : if it do him right, Then he haih wrong'cl himself; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here 5 Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orlando. Forbear, and eat no more. %i(]iics. Why, I have eat none yet. Orlando. Nor shall not, till necessity be serv'd. Jiiqiies. Of what kind should this cock come of? yo Duke Senior. 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? Orlando. You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred And know some nurture. But forbear, I say: He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaques. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. mi Duke Senior. What would you have ? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. O)/ando. I almost die for food, and let me have it Duke Senior. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orlando. Speak you so gently? I'aulon me, 1 pray you: ACT II. SCENE VII. 63 I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, IIO Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, And know what 't is to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be; In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. Duke Senior. True is it that we have seen better days, 1:0 And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church, And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd ; And therefore sit you down in gentleness, And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be minister'd. O/lando. Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man, Who after me hath many a weary step i;o Liinp'd in pure love: till he be first suffic'd, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. Duke Senior. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Orlando. I thank ye ; and be blest for your good comfort ! [A",-, Duke Senior. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy This wide and universal theatre Presents more woetui pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. 64 AS YOU LIKE IT. Jaques. All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : no They have dieir exits andjheir entrances,; 'And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms : Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school : and then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow : then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, '& Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth : and then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part : the sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 160 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in hi.s sound : last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. Enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. Duke Senior. Welcome. Set down your venerable buiden. And let him feed. Orlando. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need : I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. i 70 ACT //. SCENE VII. 65 Duke Senior. Welcome ; fall to : I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes. Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. Song. Amiens. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As mans ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen. Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly; is, Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere Jo! ly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! Tins life is mo .^t jolly ! Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember d not. Heigh-ho! sing, etc. ioc J)uke Senior. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, Anil as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd and living in your face, ]5e tiuly welcome hither. I am the duke That lov'il your father : the residue of your fortune, (io to my cave and tell me. Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is. - Support him by the arm. Give me vour hand, ,.,, And let me all your fortunes understand. f/-.\v: ///.-/. L ' Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love" (iii 2 i). ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER. Duke Frederick. Xot see him since ? Sir, sir, that cannot be : But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenue, thou present. Hut look to it : Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is ; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living ACT III. SCENE //. 67 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, , Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee. Oliver. O that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never lov'd my brother in my life. Duke Frederick. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors ; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands : Do this expediently, and turn him going. \Exeunt. SCENE II. The Forest. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orlando. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love ; And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name that my full life cloth sway. O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I '11 character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree 9 The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Enter COKIN and TOUCHSTONE. Conn. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone ? Touchstone. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, 68 AS YOU LIKE IT. in respect it is in the fields, it plcaseth me well ; but in re- spect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well ; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ? 21 Corin, No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease lie is ; and that he that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn ; that good past- ure makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. Touchstone. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 31 Corin. No, truly. Touchstone. Then thou art damned. Corin. Nay, I hope, Touchstone. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill - roasted egg all on one side. Conn. For not being at court ? Your reason. Touchstone. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shep- herd. 4.1 Corin. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that are good man- ners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands : that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touchstone. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. Corin. Why, we are still handling our ewes ; and their fells, you know, are greasy. 5 o ACT III. SCENE II. 69 Touchstone. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow ! A better instance, I say; come. Corin. Besides, our hands are hard. Touchstone. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again ! A more sounder instance; come. Corin. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Touchstone. Most shallow man ! thou worms'-meat, in re- spect of a good piece of rlesh indeed ! Learn of the wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. 03 Conn. You have too courtly a wit for me ; I '11 rest. Touchstone. \Yi!t thou rest damned? God help thee, shal- low man ! God make incision in thee ! thou art raw. Corin. Sir, I am a true labourer : I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. 7 i Touchstone. That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together. If thou be'st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds : I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape. Corin. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. I'.nter ROSALIND, reading a paper. Rosalind. From the cast to western Ind, J\1> _/(7i'('/ is like Rosalind. Jfer worth, biinr mounted on tlie n'ind, s.> Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lin'd Arc but black to Rosalind. 7 o AS YOU LIKE IT. Let no face be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind. Touchstone. I '11 rhyme you so eight years together, din- ners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : it is tne right butter -women's rank to market. Rosalind. Out, fool ! Touchstone. For a taste : oo If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalind. Winter garments must be lin'd, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. I0 o He that sweetest rose will find Must find love's prick and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses : why do you infect yourself with them ? Rosalind. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on a tree. Touchstone. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Rosalind. I '11 graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar : then it will be the earliest fruit i' the coun- try; for you '11 be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that 's the right virtue of the medlar. no Touchstone. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter CKI.IA, with a writing. Rosalind. Peace ! Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside. ill. SCENE //. 7, Cdia. [Reads] Why should this a desert be ? For it is unpeopled I No ; Tongues I '// hang on every tree, That shall civil sayings show . Some, how brief Hie life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage^ uo That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some, of violated vows 'Tun'xt the souls of friend and friend. But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence end, II 'ill I Rosalinda writ':, Teaching all that read to know '1 he quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show. IJO Therefore Heaven Nature charged That one body should be Jill ' d /TV/// all graces wide-cnlarg"d : Nature presently distill'd Ifelen's check, but not her h.-art, Cleopatra's /;/a. Didst thou hear these verses? 153 Rosalind. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Cclia. That 's no matter : the feet might bear the verses. Rosalind. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. i(>o Celia. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? Rosalind. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm- tree. I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cclia. Trow you who hath done this? Rosalind. Is it a man ? Cclia. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck ? Change you colour? i-o Rosalind. I prithee, who? Cclia. () Lord, Lord! It is a hard matter for friends to meet : but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. Rosalind. Xay, but who is it ? Cclia. Is it possible ? Rosalind. Xay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehe- mence, tell me who it is. Cclia. <) wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful won- derful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out ot all whooping! IM Rosalind. (luod my complexion! dost thou think, (hough ACT ///. SCENE II. 73 I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thoti mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, cither too much at once, or none at all. j_ prithee, take the cork out ot thv_mmithjjt_hat_ I may drink thv tidings." Is he of God's making? What / r ^ o manner of man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ? 192 Cclia. Nay, he hath but a little beard. Rosalind. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful : let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Cclia. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. Rosalind. Nay, but the devil take mocking ! speak sad brow and true maid. Cclia. I' faith, cox, 't is he. Rosalind. Orlando ? Cclia. Orlando. Rosalind. Alas the day ! what shall I do with my doublet and hose?- What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee ? and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer me in one word. Cclia. You must borrow me (largantua's mouth first : 't is a word too great for any mouth of this age's si/e. To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. .-M Kotalind. But doth he know in man's apparel ? Looks he , he wrestled ? Cclia. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve tin 74 AS YOU LIKE IT. propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him. and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. 220 Rosalind. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. Cclia. Give me audience, good madam. Rosalind. Proceed. Celia. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. Rosalind. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. Cclia. Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. 230 Rosalind. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. Celia. I would sing my song without a burden : thou bringest me out of tune. Rosalind. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Cclia. You bring me out. Soft ! conies he not here ? Enter ORI.AXDO and JAQUES. Rosalind. 'T is he : slink by, and note him. Jaqucs. I thank you for your company ; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orlando. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. 241 ^lU/ites. (iod be wi' you : let 's meet as little as we can. Orlando. 1 do desire we_may_be ^better strangers, Jaques. I~pray~you, mar no more trees with writing love- songs in their barks. Orlando. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with read- ing them ill-favouredly. Jaques. Rosalind is your love's name? Orlando. Yes, just. 'Jaqucs. 1 do not like her name. 250 ACT III. SCENE //. 75 Orlando. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. Jaques. What stature is she of? Orlando. Just as high as my heart. Jaques. You^are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings ? Orlando. Not so ; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. 25, Jaqites. You have a nimble wit : 1 think 't was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit clown with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. Orlando. I will chicle no breather in the world but my- self, against whom I know most faults. 'Jaques. The worst fault you have is to be in love. Orlando. 'T is a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. Jaques. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. Orlando. He is drowned in the brook ; look but in, and you shall see him. 271 Jaqucs. There I shall see mine own figure. Orlando. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. Jaqucs. 1 '11 tarry no longer with you : farewell, good Sig- nior Love. Orlando. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Mon- sieur Melancholy. [ /-'.v// j^aqncs. Rosalind. [Aside to Cclia~\ I will speak to him like a saury lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester ? 2*0 Orlando. Very well : what would you ? Rosalind. I pray you, what is 't o' clock ? Orlando. You should ask me wh.it lime o' day ; there 's no clock in the forest. Rosalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else 76 JS YOU LIKE IT. sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as-a clock. Orlando. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper ? 2 8 9 Rosalind. By no means, sir : Time travels in divers paces with clivers persons. J '11 tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. Orlando. I prithee, who doth he trot withal ? Rosalind. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. Orlando. Who ambles Time withal ? 299 Rosalind. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learn- ing, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury : these Time ambles withal. Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal ? Rosalind. With a thief to the gallows ; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Orlando. Who stays it still withal? 309 Rosalind. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? Rosalind. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. Orlando. Are you native of this place ? I\osalind. As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 320 ACT III. SCENE II. 77 Rosalind. I have been told so of many: but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man ; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath gener- ally taxed their whole sex withal. Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women ? 3*9 Rosalind. There were none principal ; they were all like one another as half- pence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. Orlando. I prithee, recount some of them. Rosalind. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man hnuius the forest, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. 340 Orlando. I am he that is so love-shaked ; I pray you, tell me your remedy. Rosalind. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he taught me how to know a man in love ; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. Orlando. What were his marks ? Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not : an unquestionable spirit, which you have not ; a beard neglected, which you h.ive not ; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue : then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. Hut you are no such man ; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of anv other. 7 8 AS YOU LIKE IT. Orlando. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Rosalind. Me believe it ! you may as soon make her that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does : that is one of the points in the which women still giye_the_lie _to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired ? Jfie not behind //iu' :' 82 AS YOU LIKE IT. but , rr r. , ' Wind away, 90 Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with t/iee.' [Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. Sir Oliver. 'T is no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. \Exit. SCENE IV. The Forest. Before a Cottage. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Rosalind. Never talk to me ; I will weep. Celia. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. Rosalind. But have I not cause to weep ? Celia. As good cause as one would desire ; therefore weep. Rosalind. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. Celia. Something browner than Judas's : marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. Rosalind. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. 10 Celia. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. Rosalind. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Celia. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. Rosalind. But why did he swear he would come this morn- ing, and comes not ? Celia. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 20 Rosalind. Do you think so? Celia. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse- stcaler ; but for his verity in love, I do think him as con- cave as a covered ay ' V^ikjyhJihjj.jidlL?' J5 i Rosalind. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. Orlando. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Rosalind. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool ! Orlando. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. 161 Rosalind. Alas ! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orlando. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again. Rosalind. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what you would prove : my friends told me as much, and I thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me: 't is but one cast away, and so, come, death ! Two o'clock is your hour ? Orlando. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 170 Rosalind. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break -promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful : therefore beware mv censure and keep your promise. ACT IV. SCENE II. 95 Orlando. With no less religion than if thou went indeed my Rosalind : so adieu. 180 Rosalind. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try : adieu. \Exit Orlando. Celia. You have simply misused our sex in your love- prate : we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. Rosalind. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love ! But it cannot be sounded ; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 190 Celia. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour af- fection in, it runs out. Rosalind. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I '11 tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I '11 go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. 199 Celia. And I '11 sleep. \Exeunt. SCENE II. The Forest. Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters. Jaqucs. Which is he that killed the deer? A Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaques. Let 's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueroi ; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? Forester. \ es, sir. Jaqucs. Sing it ; t is no matter how it bu in tune, so it make noise enough. 96 <4S YOU LIKE IT. Song. Forester. What shall he have that kill'd the deer ? IM His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home. [The rest shall bear this burthen. Take than no scorn to wear the horn ; ft was a crest ere thou wast born : Thy father 's father wore if, And thy father bore it : The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The Forest. Knter ROSALIND and CELIA. Rosalind. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando ! Celia. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here. Enter Si I. vi us. Silvius. My errand is to you, fair youth ; My gentle Phebe bid me give you this. I know not the contents ; but, as I guess l}y the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, i" It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, I am but as a guiltless messenger. Rosalind. Patience herself would startle at this letter And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all : She says I am not fair, that I lack manners ; She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as plnenix. 'Od's my will .' Her love is not the hair that I do hunt : ACT 11'. SCENE ///. 97 Why writes she so to me ? Well, shepherd, well. This 5s a letter of your own device. Silvius. No, I protest, I know not the contents ; Phebe did write it. Rosalind. Come, come, you are a foo!. And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand ; she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand : I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 't was her hands : She has a huswife's hand ; but that 's no matter: I say she never did invent this letter ; This is a man's invention and his hand. Silvias. Sure, it is hers. Rosalind. Why, 't is a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers ; why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Kthiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? Silrius. So please you, for I never heard it yet, ! et heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Rosalind. She IMiebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads] .'/;/ thou god to shcplierd turn ' d, That a maiden's heart liat/i Ininid? Can a woman rail thus? Silrnis. Call you this railing? f\< > sal >".;!. [ Reads] //7/i', ti'iy godhead laid apart, M'arr st thou with a wonian's heart ? Dili you ever hear such railing? }\'/iiles the e\e of man di.l iini of \oiir hriglit c\ne Have power to raise snJi lov: in mt/ic, G 98 AS YOU LIKE IT. Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect ! Whiles you chid me, 1 did love ; How then might your prayers movt! He that brings this love to thce Little knows this love in me; And by him seal up thy mind : Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take oo Of me and all that I can make ; Or else by him my love deny, And then I '// study how to die. Silvius. Call you this chiding? Cdia. Alas, poor shepherd ! Rosalind. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman ? What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee ! not to be endured ! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her : that if she love me, I charge her to love thee ; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more company. \Exit Silvius. Enter OLIVER. Oliver. Good morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 76 A sheepcote fenc'd about with olive trees ? Celia. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom; The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place. R,, Hut at this hour the house doth keep itself; There 's none within. Oliver. If that an eye may profit by a tongue. Then should I know you by description ; ACT IV. SCENE III. Such garments and such years : ' The boy is fair. Of female favour, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister: the woman low And browner than her brother.' Are not you The owners of the house I did enquire for? Ce/ia. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. Oliver. Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ? Rosalind. I am: what must we understand by this? Oliver. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkercher was stain'd. Ce/ia. I pray you, tell it. Oliver. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell ! He threw his eye aside, And mark what object did present itself! Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back ; about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth : but suddenly, Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush ; under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir : for 't is The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth serin as dead. 99 100 AS YOU LIKE ri. This seen, Orlando did approach the man, And found ii was his brother, his elder brother. < Celia. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd amongst men. Oliver. And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural. Rosalind. But, to Orlando : did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ? Oliver. Twice did he turn his back and purpos'd so ; But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, And nature, stronger than his just occasion, Made him give battle to the lioness, 130 Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling From miserable slumber I awak'd. Cc/ia. Are you his brother? Rosalind. Was 't you he rescued ? Cclia. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? Oliver. 'T was I ; but 't is not I : I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. Rosalind. But, for the bloody napkin? Oliver. By and by. When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, 14^ As how I came into that desert place, In brief, he led me to the gentle duke. Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, Committing me unto my brother's love; Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away. Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted. And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Briet. 1 recover'd him, bound up his wound ; i^j ACT IV. SCENE ///. ioi And, after some small space, being strong at heart, He sent me hither, stranger as I am, To tell this story, that you might excuse His broken promise, and to give this napkin Dyed in his blood unto the. shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. {Rosalind sivjons. Celia. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede ! Oliver. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. Celia. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede ! Oliver. Look, he recovers. iOc Rosalind. I would I were at home. Celia. We '11 lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm ? Oliver. ]>e of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a man's heart. Rosalind. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited ! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! Oliver. This was not counterfeit : there is too great testi- mony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. Rosalind. Counterfeit, I assure you. i;o Oliver. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit tu be a man. Rosalind. So I do : but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. Celia. Come, you look paler and paler : pray you, drav, homewards. Good sir, go with us. Oliver. That will I, for 1 must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Rosalind. I shall devise something : but, I pray you, com mend my counterfeiting to him. Will yuu go? \_Excnnt. lu the time, the only pretty ring time " SCENE I. The Forest. Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. Touchstone. Y/e shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gen tie Audrey. Audrey. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. Touchstone. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. Eut, Audrey, there is a youth here in ).he forest lays claim to you. Audrey. Ay, I know who 't is ; lie hath no interest in me in the world : here comes the man you mean. 9 Touchstone. 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. ACT V. SCE.VE f. 103 Enter WILLIAM. William. Good even, Audrey. Audrey. God ye good even, William. William. And good even to you, sir. Touchstone. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend ? William. Five and twenty, sir. 'louchstone. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? William. William, sir. Touchstone. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? William. Ay, sir, I thank God. Touchstone. Thank God ! a good answer. Art rich? William. Faith, sir, so-so. Touchstone. So-so is good, very good, very excellent good ; and yet it is not ; it is but so-so. Art thou wise? William. Ay, sir, I haye_a, pretty wit Touchstone. WTiy, thou sayest 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? William. I do, sir. Touchstone. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? William. No, sir. 3 3 Touchstone. Then learn this of me : to have, is to have : for it is a figure in ihetoric that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other ; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he : now, you are not //w, for I am he. \\'illiam. Which he, sir ? He, sir, that must many this woman. There- 104 AS You fore, 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 ; or, 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 fac- tion ; I will o'errun thee with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways : therefore tremble, and depart. 55 Audrey. Do, good William. William. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit. Enter CORIN. Corin. Our master and mistress seeks you ; come, away, away ! Toiictistoiic. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey ! I attend, 1 at- tend. [Exeunt. SCE.N-K II. The Forest. Enter ORLANDO and OI.IVKR. Orlando. 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 will you persever to enjoy her ? Olircr. 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 Row- land's will I olale upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. 12 Orlando. You "have inv consent. Let vour wedding be ACT V. SCENE II. ^5 to-morrow ; thither will 1 invite the duke and ul! 's con- tented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena: for look you, here romes my Rosalind. Enter ROSALIND. Rosalind. God save you, brother. Oliver. And you, fair sister. [Exit. Rosalind. O, my clear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf! 20 Orlando. It is my arm. Rosalind. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the ciaws of a lion. Orlando. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Rosalind. Did your brother tell you ho\v I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your handkercher? Orlando. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 27 Rosalind. O, I know where you are : nay, 't is true ; there was never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Casar's thrasonical brag of ' I came, saw, and over- came.' 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 have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they \\ill climb inconti- nent. They are in the very wroth of love, and they will together ; clubs cannot part them. ^ Orlando. They shall be married to-'norrow, and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. I'ut, ( ). how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes ! 1!) so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heau-heaviness, by how much 1 shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. Rosalind, \\liy then, to-morrow 1 cannot serve your turn for Rosalind ? 106 AS YOU LIKE IT. Orlando. I can live no longer by thinking. Rosalind. I will weary you then no longer with idle talk- ing. Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowl- edge, insomuch 1 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. Jtelieve then, if you please, that I can do strange things : I have, since I was three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and jet 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 with- out any danger. 63 Orlando. Speakcst thou in sober meanings? Rosalind. JJy my life, I do ; \\hich I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best ar- ray, bid your friends ; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will. Enter Sn.virs and PHKKE. Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. /'//i'/v. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, 70 To shew the letter that I writ to you. Rosalind. 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. J'/iti't'. (lood shepherd, tell this youth what '. is to love. Si/i'i/ts. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; And so am I t< if I'hebe. J7ul>i. And 1 fur Ganunede. ACT V. SCENE II. 107 Oilando. And I for Rosalind. z> Rosalind. And I for no woman. Si/rius. It is to be all made of faiih ;ind service : And so am I for Phebe. Pkcbc. And I for Ganymede. Orlando. And I for Rosalind. Rosalind. And I for no woman. Sih'itts. 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, c* All purity, all trial, all obedience ; And so am I for Phebe. J'lui'c. And so am I for Ganymede. Orlando. And so am I for Rosalind. Rosalind. And so am I for no woman. riiclh'. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? Sih'ins. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? Orlando. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? Rosalind. Why do you speak too, ' Why blame you me to love you ?' 100 Orlando. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. Rosalind. Pray you, no more of this : \ is like the howl- ing of Irish wolves against the moon. \_To Silrias] I will help you, if I can. \_To Phebc\ I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. \_To /'// you love Rosalind, meet ; \_To Sil~'iits\ as you love Phebe, meet; and as I love no woman, 1 '11 meet, bo hue you well ; I have Lit you commands. nj Si/rius. I '11 not fail, it' I live. I0 8 AS YOU LIKE IT. Phebc. Nor I. Orlando. Nor I. \Exeunt. SCENE TIL The Forest. Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. Touchstone. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; tc morrow will we be married. Audrey. 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 come two of the banished duke's pages. Enter tu>o Pages. First Page. Well met, honest gentleman. Touchstone. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. Second Page, We are for you ; sit i' the middle. 9 First Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, without hawk- ing or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? Second Page. V faith. i : faith ; and both in a tune, like two gypsies on a horse. Song. // was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hc\ r.onino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In spring time, the only pretty ring 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 Jiev noiiino, These pretty countryfolks would lie, In spring time, etc. ACT V. SCENE Jl'. I09 This carol tJu-y began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life, was but a flower In spring time, etc. And therefore take the present time. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonius ; ^ For l\i cro'ii'ti : O />/t-sst-i/ bond of board and bed ! '7' is Hymen peoples e~-t.r\ town : H/^/t wedlock then be honoured : II ill AS YOU LIKE IT. Honour, high honour and renown, M To Hymen, god of ci'cry town ! Duke Senior. O my clear niece, welcome thou art to me ! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. Phebc. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. F. ntcr JAQUES DE BOYS. Jaqucs de Boys. 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 Fredetick, hearing how that every clay Men of great worth resorted to this forest, JS Address'd a mighty power, which were on foot, Jn 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 brothei, And all their lands restor'd to them again That were with him exil'd. This to be true, ' ryl I do engage my life. Duke Senior. 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. '7' ACT V. SCENE Il r . H 5 Meantime, forget this new-fallen 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. Jciques. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaqnes de Boys. He hath. Jaques. To him will I ; out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. i Cf - [7t> Duke} You to your former honour I bequeath ; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it : [7lf Orlando} You to a love that your true faith doth merit : [7'' Olirer} You to your land and love and great allies: [ To Silrius\ You to a long and well-deserved bed : \lo Touchstone} And yon to wrangling; for thy lovrng voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures ; I am for other than for dancing measures. J)uke Senior. Stay, Jaques, stay. Jaqucs. To see no pastime I : what you would have 190 I '11 stay to know at your abandon'd cave. \_Exit. Duke Senior. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these rites, As we do trust they '11 end, in true delights. \_A dance. EPILOGUE. Rosalind. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue ; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the pro- logue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 't is true that a good play needs no epilogue ; yet to good wine they clo use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a rase 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 beg- Il6 AS YOU LIKE IT. gar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to con- jure you; and I '11 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 you ; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates 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 curtsy, bid me fare- well. \Exeunt. NOTES. ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES. Abbott (or dr.), Abbott's Shakesfearuin Grammar (third edition). A. S., Anglo-Saxon. A. V., Authorized Vjr:;.on of the liible (1611). H. and F., lienuinoiit and Fletcher. ]'.. ]., Hen Jonson. Camb. ed., "Cambridge edition" of Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright Cf. (confer), compare. C'nll., Collier (second edition'. Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier. !>., Dyce (second edition). II., Hudson (first edition^. Hen. V. (followed by reference to page], Kolfe' s edition of Henry I'. Hen. VIII. (followed by reference lo page), Rolfe's edition of Henry I' HI. Id (iiffift^, the same. J. C. (followed by reference to/,/(."'\ Rolfe's edition of Julius C,rsar. J. H., John Hunter's edition of As J 'mi Like It (London, n. d.). K., Knight (second editionV M., Rev. C. E. Moberly's " Rugby" edition t,{ .Is You Like It (London, ,872'). Macb. (followed by reference to />,i?s}, Kolfe s edition of Macbeth. Mer., Kolfe' s edition of The Merchant of I'enice. M. N. 1). (followed by refc;ei.ce to Mr*'), Rolfe's edition Ti, ..^50,). 1'rol, Prologue. Rich. II. (followed by reference to/>,, ? r\ Rolfe's cduion of A' ic hard II. S., Shakespeare. Schmidt, A. .Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexicon (1'crliii, iS;^. Sr., Singer. St., Stannton. Temp. ( fo!lowed by reference to/ ( ^-\ Rolfe's edition of The Tempest. Theo. , Theobald V., \ erplanck. W., White. Walker, Win. Sidney Walker's Critical Examination ,riala>iHS. ) Hen I'L for The Third I\,rt of Kin K Henry the .V/.rM. etc.' /'. /'. refers to The I'.isshnate m^ri,,, ; I', and A. to \\-nus ami Adonis ; L. C. to Lover's Complaint ; and Sonn. to the Sennets. NOTES. INTRODUCTION. IT is probable that the title As )'i'/i /,//< // was sui;i;ested bv the p ace of Lodge's novel. In his address "To the Cientiemen readers,"' says : " I leere you may perhaps hnde some leaves ot X'enus inirtle, hewen down l>y a souldier with his curtelaxi 1 , not bo^ht with the all inent of a tiled tongue. 'I'n bee briefe. uenlleinen, rooine tor a soul .ind a sailer, that skives yon the tinits of his labors that he \\rote in ocean, wlu're eveiie line was wet with a snr^c. and every linmon >ns sion coiinterclu-i-kt with a stonne. // ' \-i>it lik< it, so ; and yet I \\ill yours in dnetie, if you be mine in favour." Tieek believed that the t 120 NOTES. was meant as a reply to Ben Jonson's criticisms on the loose and irregu- lar style of Shakespeare's comedy, and that it was suggested by the fol- lowing passage in the Epilogue to Cynthia** Re-eels: " 1 Ml only s[>eak what I have heard him say, ' l!y 't is good, and if you like 't you may.' " Ulrici sees in it a reference to the meaning and spirit of the play itself, In summing up his argument, he says : " In fact, all do exactly what and as they please ; each gives himself or herself up, in unbridled wilfulness, to good or evil, according to his or her own whims, moods, or impulses, whatever the consequences may prove to be. Each looks upon and turns and shapes life as it pleases him or her. . . . It is a life such as not only must please the dramatic personages themselves, but would please every one, were such a life only possible ; it is the poetic reflex of "a life iis yon like it, light and smooth in its flow, unencumbered by se- rious tasks, free from the fetters of definite objects, and from intentions difficult to realixe ; an amusing play of caprice, of imagination, and of wavering'sensations and feelings.''* The following extracts from Lodge's novelf include the parts chiefly used by Shakespeare : ["Sir John of liurdeaux," on his death-bed, calls his three sons, Sala- dyne, Fernandine, and Rosader, and divides his estate among them. To Saladync he gives "fourteene ploughlands," with his " mannor houses and richest plate;" to Fernandine, " twelve ploughlands;'' and to Rosader, his horse, armour, and lance, " with sixteene ploughlands.''] Saladyne, "after a months mourning \v;is past, fel to consideration of his fathers testament ; how hee had bequeathed more to his yoonger brothers than himsclfc. that Rosader was his father? darling, but now under his tuition, that as yet they were not come to yeares, and he being their gardian, might, if not defraud them of their due, yet make such havocke of theyr legacies and lands, as they should be a great deal the lighter : whereupon he began thus to meditate with himselfe. . . . "Thy brother is yoong, keepe him now in awe; make him not chf.cke mate with thy sclfe, for, 'Nimia familiaritas cor.temptum parit.' Let him know litle. so shall he not be able to execute much : supprcsse his wittes with a base estate, and though hec be a gentleman by nature, yet forme him anew, and make him a peasant by nourture. So shall thou keepe him as a slave, and raigne thy selfe sole lord over all thy fathers possessions. As for Kernandyne, thy middle brother, he is a scholler and hath no mimic but on Aristotle : let him reade on Galen while thou ritlest with guide, and pore on his booke whilest thou doest purchase lamles : witte is great wealth ; it he have learning it is enough, and so let all rest. " In tliis humour was Saladyne, making his brother Rosader his foote boy tor the space of two or three yeares, keeping him in such servile subjection, as it he had In en the soiiue of any country vassal. The young * .SV/.j/r.s/V^n-V Itntnintic Aft. \(\ cd., trans. l>v I.. I). Si limit/, i London, 1870), vi.l. il. J). I'''. t We take these from Hallivvell. who reprint* the novel m full in his folio ed. \\'c ii.5t.Tt the paragraphs in brackets to supply the i;.ips MI the narrative. INTRODUCTION. I 2 i gentleman bare all with patience, til on a day, walking in the garden by nimselfe, he began to consider how he was the sonne of John of liour- deaux, a knight renowmed for many victories', and a gentleman famozcd for his vertnes ; how, contrarie to the testament of his father, hce wa.s not only kept from his land and intreated as a servant, but smothered in such secret slaverie, as hee might not attaine to any honourable actions. Alas, quoth hee to himselfc, nature woorking these effect nail passions, why should I, that am a gentleman borne, passe my time in such unnat- ural drudgery? were it not better either in Paris to become a scholler, or in the court a courtier, or in the field a souldier, then to live a foote box- to my own brother? nature hath lent me xvit to conceive, but my brother denies mee art to contemplate : I have strength to performe any honor- able exployt, but no libertie to accomplish my vertuous indevours : those good partes that God rath bestowed upon mee, the envy of my brother doth smother in obscuritie ; the harder is my fortune, and the more his frowardnes. \Vith that, casting up his hand he felt haire on his face, and perceiving his beard to bud, for choler hee began to blush, and swore to himselfc he xvould be no more subject to such slaverie. As he was thus ruminating of his melancholic passions in came Saladyne with his men, and seeing his brother in a broxvne study, and to forget his xvonted reverence, thought to shake him out of his dumps thus. Sirha, quolh he, what is your heart on your halfepeny, or are you saying a dirge for your fathers soule ? what, is my dinner readie? At this question Rosa- der, turning his head ascance, and bending his browcs as if anger there had ploughed the furroxves of her wrath, xvith his eyes full of fire, hce made this replie. Doest thou aske mee, Saladyne, for thy cates ? askc- some of thy churlcs xvho are fit for suche an office : I am thine equal by nature, though not by birth, and though thou hast more cardes in thy bunch, I have as many trumpcs in my handcs as thy selfe. Let me ques- tion xvith thee, xvhy thou hast feld my xvoods, spoyled my manner houses, and made havocke of Miche utensalles as my father bequeathed unto mee? I tell thee, Saladyne, either answere mee as a brother, or I xvil trouble thee as an encmie. At this replie of Rosaders Saladyne smiled, as laughing at his presumption, and froxvned as checking his folly : he therfore tooke him u]> thus shortly : What, sirha, xvel I see early prick* the tree that xvil proove a thojne : hath my^familiaj' conversing xvith on made you coy, or my good lookes drawne you to be thus contemptuous? I can quickly remedie such a fault, and I xvil bend the tree while it is a wand. In faith, sir boy, I have a snattle for such a headstrong colt. You, sirs, lay hoUle on him and bindc him. and then I xvil give him a cooling carde for his choller. This made Rosader halle mad. that st'-p- ping to a great rake that stood in the garden, hee laidc such loade nppon his brothers men that hce hurt some of them, and made the rest of them run away. Saladyne seeing Rosader so resolute, and with his resolution so valiant, thought his heeles his best safe-tic, and tooke him to a loatt ad- joyning to the garden, whether Rnsadcr pur-ued him Imtlv. Saiaditu-. atraide ot his brothers lurie. cried out to him thus: Rosader, be not so rash : I am thy brother anil thine elder, and if I have done thee wrong ile make thee amcndcs. . . . 122 NOTES. "These wordcs appeased the chollcr of Rosader, for he was of a milde and curteous nature, so tliat liee laycle downe his weapons, and upon the faith of a gentleman assured his brother lice would offer him no preju- dice : whereupon Saladyne came down, and after a little parley, they ini- brnced cache other and became friends. . . . Thus continued the pad hidden in the strawe, til it chaunced that Torismond, king of France, had appointed for his pleasure a day of wrastling and of tournament to busic his commons heades, least, being idle, their thoughts should runne uppon more serious matters, and call to remembrance their old banished king. A champion there was to stand against all commers, a Norman, .1 man of tall stature and of great strength ; so valiant, that in many such con- flicts he alwaies bare away the victorie, not onely overthrowing them which hce incountred, but often with the weight of his bodie killing them outright. Saladyne hearing of this, thinking now not to let the ball fal to the ground, but to take opportutlitie by the forehead, first by secret mcanes convented with the Norman, and procured him with rich rewards to sweare, that if Rosader came within his clawes hee would never more returne to quarrel with .Saladyne for his possessions. The Norman desirous of pclfe, as, ijnis nisi mentis inofis oblatttm rcspnit an- ntm, taking great gifts for litle gods, tooke the crownes of Saladyne to performe the stratagem. Having thus the champion tied to his vila- nous determination by oath, hee prosecuted the intent of his purpose thus : He went to yoong Rosader, who in all his thoughts reacht at honour, and gazed no lower then vertue commanded him, and began to tel him of this tournament and wrastling, how the king should bee there, and all the chicle pceres of France, with all the beautiful damosels of the coun- trcy. Now, brother, quoth hee, for the honor of Sir John of Bourdcaux, our renowmed father, to famous that house that never hath bin found without men approoved in chiva'.ric, shewc thy resolution to be percmp- torie. For myselfe thou knowest, though I am eldest by birth, yet never having attempted any deedes of armes, I am yongest to perforrne any martial cxploytcs, knowing better how to survey my lands then to charge my launce : my brother Fernandyne hce is at Paris poring on a fewe papers, having more insight into sophistrie and principles of philosophic, then anie warlyke indevcurs ; but thou, Rosader, the youngest in yeares but the eldest in valour, art a man of strength, and darest cloo what honour allowes tliee. Take thou thy fathers launce, his sword, and his horse, and hyc thee to the tournament, and either there valiantly cracke a spearc, or trie with the Norman for the palme of activitic. The words of Saladyne were but spurres to a free horse, for hee had scarce uttered them ere Kosader tooke him in his armes, taking his proffer so kindly, that hee promised in what hce might to requite his curtesie. . . . "J!ut leaving him so desirous of the journey, turn we to Torismond, the king of France, who having by force banished (Jerismond, their lawful king, that lived as an outlaw in the forest of Arden, sought now by all mcanes to keep the French busied with all sports lift might breed their content. Among>t the rest he had appointed this solemne turnamcnt, wherunto hee in most solemne maner resorted, ar- companied with the twelve peers ot Fr;vnce, who, rather lor tear then INTRODUCTION '-3 Jove, graced him with the shew of their dutiful favours. To fcede their eyes, and to make the beholders pleased with the sight of most rare and glistring objects, he had appoynted his owne daughter Alinda to be there, and the .fair Kosalynd, daughter unto Gerismond, with al the beautiful! dammoselles that were famous for their features in all France. . . . " At last when the tournament censed, the wrastling begannc, and the Norman presented himselfe as a chalenger against all commers, but hee looked lyke Hercules when he advaunst himselte agaynst Acheloiis, so that the furie of his countenance amazed all that durst attempte to in- counter with him in any deed of activitie : til at last a lustie Francklin of the country came with two tall men, that were his sonnes, of good lyniaments and comely personage: t'le eldest of these, dooing his obey- sance to the king, entered the lyst, and presented himselte to the Nor- man, who straight coapt with him, anil as a man that would triumph in the glorie of his strength, roused himselfe with such furie, that not onely hee gave him the fall, but killed him with the weight of his corpulent personage ; which the yoonger brother seeing, lepie presently into the place, and thirstie after the revenge, assayled the Norman with such valour, that at the first incouiiter hee brought him to his knees : wr>u h repulst so the Norman, that recovering himselfe, feare of disgrace doub- ling his strength, hee slept so stearncly to the yoong Francklin, that taking him up in his armes hee threw him against the grounde so violently, that hee broake his necke, and so ended his dayes with his brother. . . . " \Vith that Rosader vailed bonnet to the king, and lightly leapt within the lists, where noting more the companie then the combatant, he cast his eye upon the troupe of ladies that glistered there lyke the starrcs of heaven; but at last Love willing to make him as amourous as hee was valiant, presented him with the sight of Rosalynd, whose admirable beauty so inveagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting himselte, hee stood and fedilc his lookes on the favour of Rosalyndcs face ; which slice perceiving, blusht, whicli was such a doubling of her beauteous excel- lence, that the bashful reticle of Aurora at the sight of unacquainted Phae- ton was not halfe so glorious. The Normane, seeing this young gentle- man fettered in the lookes of the ladyes, drave him out of his memento with a shake by the shoulder. Rosader looking backe with an angrie frowne, as if hee had been wakened from some pleasaunt dreame, dis- covered to all by the furye of his countenance that lice was a man of some high thoughts : but when they all noted his youth, and the sweet- nesse of his visage, with a general applause of favours, they grieved that so goodly a yoong man should venture in so base an action : but seeing it were to his dishonour to hinder him from his enterprise, they wisht him to bee graced with the palme of victorie. Alter Rosader was thus called out of his memento by the Norman, he roughly clapt to him with so fierce an incounter, that they both t'el to the ground, and with the vio- lence of the lal were forced In birathc : in whirl) spare the Norman called to minde by all tokens, that this wa> hee \\ home Saladyne had ap- poynted him to kil : which conjecture made him >tretch every limbe, and try every sinew, thai working hi;? death hee might recover the golde 124 A'OTES. which so bountifully was promised him. On the contrary part. Rosader while he breathed was not idle, but stil cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to incouragc him with a favour, lent him such an amorous looke, as might have made the most coward desperate : which glance of Rosalynd so fiercd the passionate desires of Rosader, that turning to the Norman, hee ranne upon him and braved him with a strong encounter. The Norman received him as valiantly, that there was a sore combat, hard to judge on whose side fortune would be prodigal. At last Rosader, calling to minde the beautie of his new mistresse, the fame of his fathers honours, and the disgrace that should fal to his house by his misfortune, rowsed himselfe, and threw the Norman against the ground, falling uppon his chest with so willing a weight, that the Norman yielded nature her due, and Rosader the victorie." . . . Torismond "thought to banish her [Rosalynd] from the court: for, quoth he to himselfe, her face is so ful of favour, that it pleadcs pittie in the eye of every man : her beauty is so heavenly and de- vine, that she wil prove to me as Helen did to Priam : some one of the peeres wil ayme at her love, end the marriage, and then in his wives right attempt the kingdome. To prevent therefore had-I-wist in nil these actions, shee tarryes not about the court, but shall, as an exile, eyther wander to her father, or else seeke other fortunes. In this hu- mour, with a sterne countenance ful of wrath, he breathed out this cen- sure unto her before the peers, that charged her that that night shee were not scene about the court : for, quoth he, I have heard of thy aspiring speeches, and intended treasons. This doomc was strange unto Rosa- lynd, and presently covrccl with the shield of her innocence, she boldly brake out in reverent tcarms to have cleared herself; but Torismond would admit ot no reason, nor durst his lords plead tor Rosalynd, al- though her beauty had made some of them passionate, seeing the figure of wrath pourtrayed in his brow. Standing thus all mute, and Rosalynd amazed, Alinda, who loved her more than herself, with grief in her hart and teares in her eyes, falling down on her knees, began to intreat her father thus." [Then follows " Alindas Oration to her Father in Defence of fa ire Rosalynde," the result of which is that Alinda is included in the sentence against Rosalynd.] " At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after shee had wept a fewe kinde teares in the bosome of her Alinda, . . . they sat them downc to consult how they should travel. Alinda grieved at nothing but that they might have no man in their company, saying, it would bee their greatest prejudice in that two women went wandring without either guide or attendant. Tush, quoth Rosalynd, art thou a woman, and hast not a sodeinc shift to prevent a misfortune? I, thou seest, am ot a tall stature, and would very wel become the person and apparel of a page : thou shall bee my mistresse, and 1 wil play the man so properly, that, trust me, in what company so ever I come I \\il not be discovered. I wil buv me a suite, and have my rapier very liaudsomly at my side, and it any knave oiler w ron u. your page will shew him the poynt ol his weapon. At this Aliud.i sini'cd, and upon this they agreed, and piesently gathered up al INTRODUCTION 125 their jewels, which they trussed up in a casket, and Rnsalynd in all hast provided her of robes, and Alinda, from her royall wecdes, put hersclfc in more homelie attire. Thus fitted to the pin pose, away 51 oe ther>e two friends, having now changed their names, Aliiui.t l)cing called Aliena, and Kosalynd Cianimcdc, they travelled along the vineyardes, and by many by-waies, at last got to the forrest side, where they travelled by the space of two or three dayes without seeing anye creature, being often in danger of wilde beasts, and payned with many passionate sorrowes." . . . [They found verses written on the trees, but they were the "pas- sion " of Montanus, the Siivius of Shakespeare ; and then they continued their journey until "comming into a faire valley, compassed with mount- aines, whereon grew many pleasaunt shrubbes, they might dcscrie where two rlockes of sheepe did feed."] " Then, looking about, they might perceive where an old shepheard Ij [Montanus] sate, and with mm ;. yoong swaine [Coridon], under a covert most pleasantly scituated. . . . " The shepheards having thus ended their Kglogue,* Aliena slept with (janimede from behind the thicket ; at whose sodayne sight the shepheards arose, and Aliena saluted them thus: Shepheards, all haile, for such wee deeme you by your flockes, and lovers, good lucke, for such you seeme by your passions, our eyes being witnesse of the one, and our cares of the other. Although not by love, yet by fortune, I am a dis- tressed gentlewoman, as sorrowtull as you are passionate, and as kill ot woes as you of perplexed thoughts. \Yandiing this way in a foircst un- known, onely I and my page, wearied with travel, would faine have some place of rest. May you appoint us any place of quiet harbour, be it never so meanc, I shall bee thankful! to you, contented in my selfe, and grateful! to whosoever shall be mine host. Coridon, hearing the gentle- woman speake so courteously, returned her mildly and reveiently this inswere. Faire mistresse, wee returne you as hearty a welcome as you gave us a courteous salute. A shepheard I am. and this a lover, as watchful to please his wench as to feed his sheep : fill of fancies, and therefore, say I, full of follyes. Kxhort him I may. but pcrswadc him I cannot ; tor love admits neither ot counsaile nor reason. Hut leaving him to his passions if you be distre.-t, 1 am sorrowful! such a fa ire- creature is cro.-t with ca'lamitie : pray for you I may, but releeve you I cannot. Marry, if you want lodging, if you vouch to shrowd your selves in a shepheards cottage, my house for this night shall he your harbou>\ Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and presently sate her downe and (lani niedc by hir, Corid<>n looking earnestly upon her, and with a curious survey viewing all her perlections applauded, in his thought, her excel- lence, and pitying her distresse was desirous to heare the cause of her misfortunes, began to question with her tliii*. It I should not, faire I)amosell, occasionate ottence. or renew your griets by rubbing the scat, I wou.d laine crave so mm h l.ivour as to know the cause ot your mis- toi tunes, and why, and whither you \\ander with vour page in so danger- ous forest? Aliena. that was as courteous as she was f.ivre. made this I 2 6 NOTES. rcplie. Shcphcarcl, a friendly demaund ought never to he offensive, and questions of curtesie carry priviledgcd pardons in their forheads. Know, therefore, to discover my fortunes were to renew my sorrowes, and I should, by discoursing my mishaps, but rake fire out of the cyiulers. Therefore let this suffice, gentle shephenrd : my distress is as great as my travaile is dangerous, and I wander in this forrest to light on some cotage where I and my page may dwell : for I meane to buy some farme, and a flocke of shcepe, and so become a shepheardesse, meaning to live low, and content mee with a cotmtrey life ; for I have heard the swaints save, that they drunke without suspition, and slept without care. Marry, mistress, quoth Condon, if you meane so you came in good time, for my landlord intends to sell both the farme I lyll, and the flocke I keepe, and cheape you may have them for ready money : and for a shcpheards life, oh mist res, did you but live a while in thei. content, you would say the court were rather a place "f sorrow then of solace. Here, mistresse, shal not fortune thwart you, but in mean misfortunes, as the losse of a few shcepe. which, as it breedes no bcggcry, so it can bee no extreame prejudice, the next yeare may mend all with a fresh increase. Envy stirres not us, we covet not to climbe, our desires mount not above our degrees, nor our thoughts above our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our cottages, nor doe our homely couches know broken slumbers : as wee exceed not in dyet, so we have inough to satisfie : and, mistresse, I have so much Latin, satis est quod snffieit. l!y my troth, shephcard, quoth Alicna, thou makest mee in love with thy countrey life, and thciiore send for thy landsloid, and I will buy thy farme and thy flocks, and thou shait still under me bee overseer of them both : oncly for pleasure sake I and my page will serve you, lead the flocks to the field and folde them. Thus will I live quiet, unknowne. and contented. This newcs so gladded the hart of Condon, that he should not be put out of his farme, that put- ting off his shcpheards bonnet, he did hir all the reverence that he might. P>ut all this while sate Montanus in a muse, thinking of the crucltie of his Phoebe, whom he wooed long, but was in no hope to win. Gani- mede, who stil had the remembrance of Kosadcr in his thoughtes, tooke delight to see the poore shephcard passionate, laughing at love, that in all his actions was so imperious. At last, when she had noted his teares that stole down his cheeks, and his sighcs that broke from the center of his heart, pittying his lament, she demanded of Condon why the yong shepheard looked so sorrowful ? ( )h sir, quoth he, the boy is in love. . . . " With this they were at Coridon's cottage, where Montanus parted from them, and they went in to rest. Alicna and (lanimedc, glad of so contented a shelter, made merry with the poorc swainc ; and though they had but countrey fare and course lodging, yet their welcome was so greate, and their cares so little, that they counted their diet delicate, and slept as soundly as if they hail beene in the court of Torismond. The next morne they lay long in bed. as wearved with the toylc ol unaccus- tomed travaile ; but assoone as they got up, Alicna resolved there to set up her rest, and by the helpe of Coridon swapt a bargaine with his lands- lord, and so became misires of the farme and the lltuke, her selfe pilting 127 on the attyre of a shepherdes.se, and Ganimede of a yong swaine : everye ciay leading foorth her flockes, with such delight, that she held her exile happy, and thoght no content to the blisse of a countrey cottage." . . . [Meanwhile Kosader, driven from home by the harshness of his brother, takes with him his father's old servant, Adam Spencer, and makes for the forest of Arden.] " But Kosader and Adam, knowing full well the secret waies that led .. through the vineyards, stole away privily through the province of Bourdeaux, and escaped safe to the forrest of Arden. Being come thethcr, they were glad they had so good a harbor : but fortune, who is like the camelion, variable with every object, and constant in nothing but inconstancie, thought to make them myrronrs of her muta- bilitie, and therefore still crost them thus contrarily. Thinking still to passe on by ihe bywaies to get to Lions, they chanced on a patli that led into the thicke of the forrest, where they wandrcd five or sixe dayes witn- out meate, that they were almost famished, finding neither shepheard nor cottage to relieve them ; and hunger growing on so extreame, Adam Spencer, being oldc, began to faint, and sitting him downe on a hill, and looking about him, espied where Kosader lave as feeble and as ill per- plexed : winch sight made him shedcle tcares. . . . "As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he looked earnestly on Kosader, and seeing him chaunge colour, hee rose up and went to him, and holding his temples, said, What cheerc, maister? though all faile, let not the heart taint : the courage of a man is shewed in the resolution of his death. At these wordes Kosader lifted up his eye, and looking on Adam Spencer, began to weep. Ah, Adam, quoth he, 1 sorrow not to dye, but I grieve at the maner of my death. Might I with my launce encoun- ter the enemy, and so die in the field, it were honour, and content : might I, Adam, combate with some wilde beast, and perish as his praie, I were satisfied ; but to die with hunger, (), Adam, it is the extreamest of all ex- treames ! Maister, quoth he, you see we are both in one predicament, and long I cannot live without meate ; seeing therefore we can finde no foode, let the death of the one preserve the life of the other. I am old, and overwornc with age, you are yoong, and are the hope of many hon- ours : let me then dye, I will presently cut my veynes. and, maister, with the warme blood relieve your fainting spirites: sucke on that til I ende, and you be comforted. With that Adam Spencer was ready to pull out his knife, when Kosader, lull of courage, though verie faint, rose up, and wisht Adam Spencer to sit there til his returne ; for my mind gives me, quoth he, that I shall bring thce meate. With that, like a mad man, he rose up, and raunged up ami downe the woods, seeking to encounter sonic wilde beast with his rapier, that either he might carry his friend Adam food, or else pledge his life in pawn for his loyaltie. It chaunced that day, that Gerismond, the lawful! king of France banished by 7 ' Torismond, who with a lustie crue of oullawes lived in that forest, that day in honour of his birth made a least to all his bolde yeo- men, and froliekt it with store of wine and venison, sitting all at a long table under the shadow of lymon trees. To that place by chance tor- time conducted Kosader, who seeing such a crue of brave men, having I2 8 AOTES. store of that for want of which hee and Adam perished, hce stcpt boldly to the boords end, and saluted the company thus: Whatsoever them he that art maister of these lustie squiers, I salute thee as graciously as a man in extreame distresse may : know that I and a fellow friend of mine are here famished in the forrest for want of food: perish wee must, unlesse relieved by thy favours. Therefore, if thou l>e a gentleman, give meate to men, and to such men as are everie way woorthie of life. Let the proudest squire that sits at thy table rise and incountcr with mce in any honorable point of activitie whatsoever, and if hee and thou proovc me not a man, send me away comfortlesse. If thou refuse this, as a nig- gard of thy cates, I will have amongst you with my sword; for rather wil I dye valiantly, then perish with so cowardly an extreame. (icris- mond, looking him earnestly in the face, and seeing so proper a gentle- man in so bitter a passion, was moved with so great pitie, th;.t rising from the table, he tooke him by the hand ami badde him welcome, will, ing him to sit downe in his place, and in his roome not onely to eat his fill, but be lorde of the feast, (iramercy, sir, quoth Kosader, but I have a feeble friend that lyes hereby famished almost for food, aged and therefore lesse able to abide the extremitie of hunger then nvy selfe, and dishonour it were for me to taste one crumme, before I made him part- ner of my fortunes : therefore I will runnc and fetch him, and then I wil gratefully accept of vour proffer. Away hies Kosader to Adam Spen- cer, and tels him the newcs, who was glad of so happie fortune, but so feeble he was that he could not go ; whci upon Kosader got him up on his backc, and brought him to the place. Which when (ierismond and his men saw. they greatly applauded their league of friendship; and Kosader, having Gerismonds place assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but set downe Adam Spencer. . . . 'The flight of Kosader came to the eares of Torismond. who hearing that Saladyne was sole heire of the landes of Sir John of I'.our- deaux, desirous to possesse suche faire revcnewes, found just occasion to quarrell with Saladyne about the wrongs he proffered to his brother ; and therefore, dispatching a hcrehau'.t, he sent for Saladyne in all poast haste : who, marveiling what the matter should be, began to examine his owne conscience, wherein hee had olfended his highnesse ; but imboldened with his innocence, he boldly went with the herehault unto the court ; where, assoone as hee came, hee was not admitted into the presence of the king, but presently sent to prison. . . . " In the depth of his passion, hee \v;;s sent for to the king, who, with a lookc that threatened death entertained him, and demaunded of him where his brother was? Saladyne made answer, that upon some ryot made against the sheriffe of the shire, he was th-d from Bourdeaux, but 'he kne\v not wi.ithcr. Nay, villaine, quoth he. I have heard of the wronges thou ha.-t proffered thy brother, since the death of thy fathei and bv thy means have I lost a most brave and resolute chevalier Therefore, in justice to puni>h thee, I spare thy life for thy fathers sake but banish thee for ever from the court and coimtrey of France ; and see thy departure be within tenne dayes, els trust me thou shall loose thy head. And with that the king llew away in a rage, and left poore Sala- IN'l'KUDUCllUX. 129 dyne (greatly perplexed ; who grieving at his exile, yet determined to bear it with patience, and in penaunce of his former tollies to travaile abroade in every coast lill he had found out his brother Kosader." . . . (Meanwhile, " Kosader, bccing thus preferred to the |)!ace of a forrester by (Jerismond, rooted out the remembrance of his brothers unkindnes by continuall exercise, traversing the groves and wilde forrcsts. . . . Yet whatsoever he did, or howsoever he walked, the lively image of Kosalyndc remained in memorie." At length he meets Ganimcde and Aliena.] "Ganimede, pittying her Rosader, thinking to drive him out ot this amorous melancholy, said, that now the sunne was in his me- ridionall heat, and that it was high noone, therefore wee shep- heards say, tis time to go to dinner ; for the sunne and our stomackes are shepheards dials. '1'herefore, forrester, if tliou wilt take such fare as comes out of our homely scrips, welcome shall answere whatsoever thou wantest in delicates. Aliena tooke the entertainment by the ende, and tolde Rosader hee should bee her guest. He thankt them heartily, and sat with them downe to dinner, where they had such cates as countrey state did allow them, sawst with such content, and such sweete prattle, as it seemed farre more sweet than all their courtly junkets. Assone as they had taken their repast, Kosader, giving them thankes for his good cheare, would have been gone ; but Ganimede, that was loath to let him passe out of her presence, began thus : Nay, forrester, quoth she, if thy busines be not the greater, seeing thou saist thou art so deeply in love, let me see how thou canst wooe : I will represent Kosalynde, and thou shall bee as thou art. Kosader. See in some amorous eglogue, how if Kosalynd were present, how thou conldst court her ; and while we sing of love, Aliena shall tune her pipe and plaie us melodie.* . . . 'And thereupon, quoth Aliena, He play the priest: from this daye forth Ganimede shall call thee husband, and thou shah cal Ganimede wife, and so wcele have a marriage. Content, quoth Kosader, and taught. Content, quoth Ganimede, and chaunged as red as a rose: and so with a smile and a blush, they made up this jesting match, that after proved to be a marriage in earnest, Kosader full little thinking hee had wooed and wonne his Kosalynde. . . . "All this while did poore Saladyne, banished from l!ourdcaux and the court of France by Torismond, wander up and downe in the tor- rest of Arden, thinking to get to Lyons, and so travail through Germany into -Italic : but the forrest beeing full of by-pathes, and he nn- skilfull of the country coast, slipt out of the way, and chaunccd up into the desart, not farre from the place where Gerismond was, and his broth- er Kosader. Saladyne, wcaiie with waiulring up and downe. and hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating such frnite as the forrest did atToord, and contenting himst lie with such drinko as nature had provided and thirst made delicate, alter his repast he fell into a dead slcepe. As thus he lay, .1 hungry lyon came hunting downe the edge of the ijrove for pray, and espying Saladyne began to eea/e upon '30 A r OTES. him : but seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him, for that lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses ; and yet desirous to have some foode, the lyon lay downe, and \vatcht to see if he would stirre. \Vhile thus Saladync slept secure, fortune tliat was careful of her cham- pion began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that Kosader, having stricken a deere that but slightly hint fled through the thicket, came pacing downe by the grove with a boare-speare in his hande in great haste. He espyed where a man lay a sleepe, and a lyon fast by him : amazed at this sight, as he stoode gazing, his nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his. Whereuppon drawing, more nigh, he might easily discerne his visage, perceived by his phis- nomie that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed at the sight of so unexpected a chance, mar- velling what should drive his brother to traverse those secrete desarts, without any com panic, in such distressed and forlorne sorte. 15ut the present time craved no such doubting ambages, for he must eythcr re- solve to hazard his life for his reliefe, or else stcale away, and leave him to the crueltie of the lyon. . . . " With that his brother began to stirre, and the lyon to rowse himselfe, whereupon Kosader sodainly charged him with the boare speare, and wounded the lion very sore at the first stroke. The beast feeling him- selfe to have a mortal! hint, leapt at Kosader, and with his pawes gave him such a sore pinch on the brest, that he had almost lain ; yet as a man most valiant, in whom the sparks oi Sir John of lioin deaux re- mained, he recovered himselfe, and in short combat slew the lion, who at his death roared so lowd that Saladyne awaked, and starting up, was amazed at the sudden sight of so monstrous a beast lying slaine by him, and so sweet a gentleman wounded. " Saladvr.c casting up his eye, and noting well the phisnomy of the for- rester, knew that it was his brother Kosader, which made him so bash and blush at the first meeting, that Kosader was faine to recomfort him, which he did in siu h sort, that hee shewed how highly he held revenge in scorne. Much ado there was betweene these two brethren, Saladyne in craving pardon, and Kosadcr in forgiving and forgetting all former in- juries ; the one humble and snbmisse, the other milde and curtcons ; Saladyne penitent and passionate, Kosader kynd and loving, that at length nature working an union of their thoughts, they earnestly embraced, and fell from matters of unkindnessc, to talke of the country lite, which Ko- sader so highly commended, that his brother began to have a desire to taste of that homely content. In this humor Kosader conducted him to (leiismonds lodge, and presented his brother to the king, discoursing the whole matter how all had hapned betwixt them. . . . Assoone as they had taken their repast, and had wel dined, Kosader tooke his brother Sala- dyne by the hand, anil shewed him the pleasmcs of the forrest, and what (ontent they enjoyed in that mean estate. Thus tor two or three dayes he walked up and downe with his brother to shew him all the commodi- ties that belonged to his walke ; during which time hee was greatlv mist <>t his (janvmcdc, who mu>cd mut-h with Alicna what should become of their forrester. IN TROD UC TION. \ 3 1 " With this Ganimedc start up, made her ready, and went into the fields with Aliena, where unfolding their flockes, they sate them downe under an olive tree, both ot' them amorous, and yet di- versely affected, Aliena joying in the excellence of Saladyne,* and Gani- mede sorowing for the wounds of her Rosadcr ; not quiet in thought till shee might heare of his health. As thus both of them sate in their clumpes, they might espie where Coridon came running towards them, almost out of breath with his hast. What newes with you, quoth Aliena, that you come in such post ? Oh, mistres, quoth Coridon, you have a long time desired to see 1'hoebe, the faire shepheardesse whom Mon- tanus loves ; so now if you please, you and Gunimede, to walk with niee to yonder thicket, there shall you see Montanus and her sitting by a fountaine, he courting her with her countrey ditties, and she as coy as if she held love in disdaine. The newes were so welcome to the two lovers, that up they rose, and went with Coridon. Assoone as they drew nigh the thicket, they might espie where Phoebe sate, the fairest shepherdesse in all Arden, and he the frolickst swaine in the whole for- rest, she in a petticote of scarlet, covered with a green mantle, and to shrowd her from the sunne, a chaplet of roses, from under which ap- peared a face full of natures excellence, and two such eyes as might have amated a greater man than Montanus. At gaze uppon this gorgeous nymph sate the shepheard, feeding his eyes with her favours, wooing with such piteous lookes, and com ting with such deepe strained sighs, as would have made Diana her selfe to have been compassionate. . . . Ah, Phcebe, quoth he, whereof art thou made, that thou regardest not my maladie ? ... At these wordes she filcl her face full of frowns, and made him this short and sharpe reply. Importunate shepheard, whose loves are lawlesse, because restlesse, are thy passions so extreame that thou canst not conceale them with patience ? . . . \Yert thou, Montanus, as faire as Paris, as hardy as Hector, as constant as Troylus, as loving as I.eander, Phoebe could not love, because she cannot love at all : and therefore if thou pursue me with Phoebus I must flic with Daphne. Ganimecle, overhearing all these passions of Montanus, could not brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but starting from behind the hush said : And if, damzell, you fled from mec, I would transforme you as Daphne to a bay, and then in contempt trample your branches under my feet. Phoebe at this sodaine replyc was ama/ed, especially when shee saw so faire a swaine as Ganimede ; blushing therefore, she would have bene gone, but that he held her by the hand, and prosecuted his reply thus : What, shepheardesse, so faire and so cruell ? Disdaine besecmcs not cottages, nor coynesse maids ; for either they be condemned to be too proud, or too froward . . . Love while thou art yoong, least thou be disdained ' "An incident in the novel, which accounts for the sudden falling in love ot" Sala- dyne and Aliena, is altogether omitted by Shakespeare. A band ot robbers attempt to carry off Aliena, kosader encounters them single-handed, but is wounded and ,il"'iM overpowered, when his broiher comes to the rescue. While Ganiniede is dressing Ros- ader's wounds, Aliena and S.iladyne indulge in some 'quirkes and quiddities ot love,' the course of which is told with considerable detail. Aliena's secn-i is soon sxtorted from her by (Janiniede " vWrighl). I 3 2 XOTES. when thou art olde. Ilcnutic nor time cannot l>c rccalde, and if thou love, like of Montanus ; for if his desires are many, so his deserts are great. Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection of Ganimede, as deeply enamored on his perfection as Montamis inveigled with hers. . . . " 1 am glad, quoth (ianimede,* you looke into your own faults, and see where your shoo wrings you, measuring now the pains of Montanus by your owne passions. Truth, q. l'hoel>e, and so deeply I repent me of my frowardncsse towards the shepheard, that could I cease to love Ganimede, 1 would resolve to like Moixtanus. What if I can with reason perswade I'hcebe to mislike of Ganimede, wil site then favour Montanus? When reason, quoth she, doth quench that love that I doe owe to thee, then will I fancie him ; conditionally, that if my love can bee supprest with no reason, as being without reason, Ganimcde will oncly wed himselfe to Phoebe. I gruunt it, faire shep- heardesse, quoth he ; and to feed thee with the sweetnesse of hope, this resolve on : I wil never marry my selfe to woman but unto thy sclfe. . . . (ianimede tooke his leave of Phoebe and departed, leaving her a con- tented woman, and Montanus highly pleased. . . . As she came on the plaincs, slice might espy where Rosader and Saladyne sat with Aliena under the shade. ... I had not gone abroad so soone, quoth Rosader, but that I am bidden to a marriage, which, on Sunday next, must bee solemnpnized betwcene my brother and Aliena. I see well where love leads delay is loathsome, and that small wooing serves where both the parties are willing. Truth, quoth Ganimede ; but what a happy clay should it be, if Rosader that day might be married to Rosalynd. Ah, good Ganimede, quoth he, by naming Rosalynd, renue not mysorrowcs; (or the thought of her perfections is the thrall of my miseries. Tush, bee of good cheare, man, quoth Ganimede: I have a friend that is deeply ex- perienst in negromancy and magicke ; what art can do shall be acted for thine advantage. I wil cause him to bring in Rosalynde, if either France or any bordring nation harbour her ; and upon that take the faith ot a yoong shepheard. . . . " In these humors the wceke went away, that at last Sunday came. . . . As they were thus drinking and ready to go to church, came in Montanus, apparalled all in tawny, to signirie that he was for- saken : on his head hee wore a garland of willow, his bottle hanged by his side, whereon was painted dispaire, and on his sheephooke hung two sonnets, as labels of his loves and fortunes. . . . Gerismond, desirous to prosecute the encle of these passions, called in Ganimede, who, knowing the case, came in graced with such a blush, as beautified the christall of his face with a ruddie brightnesse. The king noting well the phisnomy of (ianimede, began by his favour to cal to mind the face of his Rosalynd, and with that fetcht a deepe sigh. Rosader, that was passing familiar with Gerismond, demanded of him why he sighed so sore? Because, Rosader, quoth hee, the favour of Ganimede puts nice in minde of Rosa- lynde. At this word Rosader sighed so deeply, as though his heart wi.uld * This is at an interviev; with Pluubc after the latter lias sent a letter tu (iaiiimctlc by MniiUliUa. INTRODUCTION. '3.1 have burst. And whats the matter, quoth Gerismond, that you quite mee with such a sigh ? 1'ardon me, sir, quoth Kosader, because I love none but Kosalyud. And upon that condition, quoth Gerismond, that Kosa- lynd were here, I would this day make up a marriage betwixt her and thee. At this Aliena timid her head and smilde upon Ganimede, and shee could scarce keep countenance. Yet slice salved all with secrecie; and Gerismond, to drive away his dumpes, questioned with Ganimede, what the reason was he regarded not Phoebes love, seeing she was as faire as the wanton that brought Troy to ruine ? Ganimede mildly an- swered, It I shuld affect the faire Phoebe, I should offer poore Montanus great wrong to winne that from him in a moment, that lice hath labored for so many monthes. Yet have I promised to the bewtiful shepheardesse to wed my selfe never to woman except unto her ; but with this promise, that if I can by reason suppresse Phoebes love towards me, she shall like of none but of Montanus. To that, quoth Phcebe, I stand ; for my love is so fa i beyond reason, as wil admit no persuasion of reason. For jus- tice, quoth he, I appeale to Gerismond : and to his censure wil I stand, quoth Phoebe. And in your victory, quoth Montanus, stands the hazard of my fortunes, for if Ganimede go away with conquest, Montanus is in conceit loves monarch : if Phoebe winne, then am 1 in effect most miser- able. \Ve wil see this controversie, quoth Gerismond, and then we will to church : therefore, Ganimede, led us heare your argument. Nay, par- don my absence a while, quoth shee, and you shall see one in store. In went Ganimede and drest her self in womans attire, having on a gowne of greene, with a kirtle of rich sandall, so quaint, that she seemed Diana triumphing in the forrest : upon her head she wore a chaplet of roses, which gave her such a grace that she looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of all her Homes. Thus attired came Rosalind in, and presented hir self at hir fathers tcetc, with her eyes full of teares, craving his bless- ing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes, how shee was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived in that country disguised. . . . " While every one was amazed, . . . Condon came skipping in, and told them that the priest was at church, and tarried for their comming. With that Gerismond led the way, and the rest followed ; where to the admi- ration of all the countrey swains in Arden, their manages were solemnly solemnized.'' . . . It will be seen, that while the Poet followed the novel closely in the main incidents of his plot, the characterization is exclusively his own. The personages common to the novel and the play arc as truly new crea- tions in the latter as Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey, who have no place in the former. Even the deviations in the conduct of the story, as Knight remarks, "furnish a most remarkable example of the wonderful superi- ority of his art as compared with the art ot other nun." We cannot dis- cuss these in detail ; the quotations we have given troin the novel will enable the reader to examine them for himself.* * Compare what Campbell says in his introduction to the play : " The pint of this de- licious comedy .is taken by our 1'oet t'rom Lodge's ' Rosnlynde. or Kupluu-s' ti'ildcn l.e,s:acye.' >ome ot" Lodge's incidents are judiciously omitted, but the .m cater part ale pre;rved the wrestling scene, the lliyht ot the two ladies into the forest of Aiucn, the I 3 4 INTRODUCTION. We may add that the character of Adam has a peculiar interest from the fact that, according to a tradition current in the last century, the pait was performed by Shakespeare himself. Steevens gives the following extract from Oldys's manuscript collections for a life of the Poet : "One of Shakespeare's younger brothers, who lived to a good old age, even some years, as I compute, after the restoration of A'. Charles II., would in his younger days come to London to visit his brother Will, as he called him, and be a spectator of him as an actor in some of his own plays. This custom, as his brother's fame enlarged, and his dramatic entertainments grew the greatest support of our principal, if not of all our theatres, he continued it seems so long after hr. brother's death, as even to the latter end of his own life. The curiosity at this time of the most noted actors [exciting them] to learn something from him of his brother, &c., they justly held him in the highest veneration. And it may be well believed, as there was besides a kinsman and descendant of the family, who was then a celebrated actor* among them, this opportunity made them greedily inquisitive into every little circumstance, more espe- cially in his dramatick character, which his brother could relate of him. Hut he, it seems, was so stricken in years, and possibly his memory so weakened with infirmities (which might make him the easier pass for a man of weak intellects), that he could give them but little light into their enquiries ; and all that could be recollected from him of his brother Will, in that station was, the faint, general, and almost lost ideas he had of hav- ing once seen him act a part in one of his own comedies, wherein being to personate a decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and appeared so weak and drooping and unable to walk, that he was forced to be sup- ported and carried by another person to a table, at which he was seated among some company, who were eating, and one of them sung a song." Capell also has the following : " A traditional story was current some years ago about .Stratford, that a very old man of that place, of weak intellects, but yet related to Shakespeare, being ask'd by some of his neighbours, what he remem- ber'd about him ; answer'd, that he saw him once brought on the stage upon another man's back ; which answer was apply 'd by the hearers, to his having seen him perform in this scene the part of Adam." This story came to Capell from Mr. Thomas Jones, of Tarbick, in Wor- cestershire ; and Malone suggests that he may have heard it from Rich- ard Quiney (who died in 1656, at the age of 69) or from Thomas Qtiiney, Shakespeare's son-in-law (who lived till about 1663, and who was 27 years old when the poet diecl^, or from one of the Hathaways. meeting there of Rosalind with her father and mother, and the whole happy termination of the plot, are found in the prose romance. Even the names of ihe personages are but slightly changed ; for Lodge's Rosalind in her male attire, calls herself Ganymede, and her cousin, as a shepherdess, is named Aliena Hut never was the prolixity and ped- antry of a prosaic narrative transmuted by genius into such magical poetry. In the days of James I.. George Heriot, the Edinburgh merchant who built a hospital still bearing his name, is said to have made his fortune by purchasing for a trifle a quantity of sand that had been brought as ballast by a ship from Africa. As it was dry, he suspected from its weight that it contained gold, and he succeeded in filtering a treasure from it. Sh.ikes- peare, like Heriot, took the dry and heavy sand of Lodge, and made gold out of it." * Charles Hart, who was perhaps a grandson ot Shakespeare's sister Joan. ACT I. SCEXE I. '35 ACT I. SfKNK ~[. I. Ax 1 renit'inl'i'i; etc. We follow the folio here, with Halliwcll, K., and others. \Yarb., who has been followed by I), and some other editors, thought it necessary to mend the grammar by read- ing "upon this fashion: he bequeathed," etc. W. points it thus: "fashion, bequeathed," etc., which is plausible, Kcqueathcd is then in the past tense, the subject being omitted; as Abbott (dr. 399) explains chared just below. With our pointing AV///,V;//V(/ is a participle, and ctt and ,tv. ( '('. dr. 85, 422. In A. unit ('. v. 2. 2}6, we have " \Yhat poor an instrument." K. says that Orlando is "quoting the will, and poor is the adjective to a t/ummitJ t rcncns," Caldecott puts the whole !36 A'OTES. passage thus : " It was upon this fashion bequeathed me by [my father in Ills] will, but poor a (the poor pittance of a) thousand crowns; and, as tliou sayest, [it was, or he there] charged my brother," etc. 3. On his Messing. On is often so used in asseverations and obsecra- tions (Schmidt). Cf. T. of A. iii. 5. 87 : "On height of our displeasure," etc. \Vr. quotes lleywood, Englifk Traveller: "This doe vpon my blessing." To /';<<- e.u use in well-bred, good breeding, etc. 5. .-// school. That is, at the university. Cf. Ham. i. 2. 113 : "going back to school in \Vittcnl>erg." On goldenly, cf. Macb. i. 7. 33 : "golden opinions." 1'rojit ~- proficiency. Cf. the use of the verb in i lien. 1 1\ iii. i. 166 : " Exceedingly well read, and profiled In strange concealments,'' clc. 7. Slavs. Hetains. Cf. i. 3. 65 below : "we stay'd her for your sake." "\Varb. substituted "sties," and Johnson approved the change. II. Manage. The training of a horse (Fr. manege}. Cf. Rich. II. iii. 3. 179; and see also Mer. p. 153. For the ellipsis in dearly hired, see (.Jr. 403. 13. The which. See Cr. 270. 15. Countenance. Hearing, behaviour. Cf. I //<;/. //'. v. 1.69: " l!y unkind usage, dangerous countenance." \Vr. explains it as "favour, regard, patronage ;" Walker, "the style of living which he allows me ;" J. II., "the way in which he acknowledges or entertains me." Seems seems as if it wished (Capcll). Cf. Macb. p. 170. 17. Iliihis. Menials, servants ; as in M. If. iii. 5. QQ and A'. anJ 'J. i. 7. 73. Klsewhere the word- boor, peasant ; as in /,. /,. /,. i. 2. 123, etc. iS. Mi/tcs. Undermines, seeks to destroy. 20. Miit : nv. Rebel. S. also uses the form miilinc, both verb and noun ; as in //?;//. iii. 4. 83, v. 2. 6, and A'. Jo/in, ii. i. 378. 26. What make von here? What do you here? As Halliwel! notes, the phrase is very common, and is quibbled upon in /.. /,. L. iv. 3. KJO fol. and in l\ich. III. i. 3. 164 fol. Cf. iii. 2. 206 below. 29. AfV naught awhile. "This is merely a petty oath, equivalent to a mischief on von, or sometimes to get von gone immcthtitelv" (Ilalliwcll). Steevens quotes Storie <o /'. G. of I'. ii. 3. 4, .!/. i'/ I '. ii. 6. 17, etc. 40. //////. Otteii put, by attraction 10 whom undeibtood, for fu whom ACT /. SCE.\'E /. 137 (Gr. 208). Cf. A. and C. iii. I. 15 : " Acquire too high a fame when him we serve 's away," etc. 41. In the gtntle condition of blood. "On any kindly view of relation- ship "(M.). 46. Your coming, etc. That is, you are more closely and directly the representative of his honours, and therefore entitled to the respect due to him. NVarb. suggested "his rt-vniu;" which Haumer adopted, llalliwell quotes 2 Hen, 11'. iv. 5. 4: : "My due from thee is this ini|>erial crown. Which, as intnuelintt from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me." "Whiter thinks that Orlando uses r<7r/vwov ! Oliver attempts to strike him, and Orlando in return seizes his brother by the throat. 49. Young. Raw, inexperienced. Cf. Lodge (p. 122 ;:bove) : " I am yongcst to performe any martial expK vtcs," etc. See also .Mack. iii. 4. 144: "We are yet but young in deed." As \Vr. notes, " too young" is used in just the contrary sense in Much Ado, v. i. 119. 52. I'illtiin. Oliver uses the word in the present sense; Orlando, with a play upon this and the old meaning of serf or base-born fellow. Cf. 7! .-/. iv. 3. 73, Lt'tir, iii. 7. 78, etc. The word was sometimes u>ed as a familiar form of address, and even as a term of endearment ; a> in C. of /i. i. 2. 19, \V. T. i. 2. 136, etc. In 7'. A", ii. 5. 16 anil '!'. and C. iii. 2. 35 it is applied to women in this sense. 66. Sui/i cxercist's, etc. \Vr. quotes 7'. G. of I'. \. 3. 30 : "There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, And be in eye of every exercise Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.'' 67. Allotcry. Allotment, portion. S. uses the word only here. 68. Go buy. Go to buy ; a very common ellipsis with go in S. C'" i. 2. 223 below. As Abbott remarks (Gr. 340), even now we retain a dis- like to use the formal to after go and conu-, and therefore substitute and. Cf. ii. 3. 31 below : " wonldst thou have me go and beg my food ?" 69. And wliat, etc. \Y. points the passage thus: "And what wilt thou do, beg, when that is spent ?" 7>V; r is thcn = 7 beg, as /;v/r often = I pray ; but S. does not elsewhere use h-g in that way, and the ordinary pointing gives a sufficiently clear meaning. 70. Git yon in. On the use of von, see Gr. 232. 76. Lost my teeth, etc. M.qu )tes Tacitus, ./////. 1.34: "quidam [milites], prensa nianu Germanici per speciem osculandi, inseruerunt digitos, ut vacua dentibus ora contingoret ;" a mute appeal to the same effect as Adam's. y.S. .S/v/v. See Gr. 343. 79. Gri'-^i ufoii in,'. Gel the better of me, get the upper h.intl i>t me (Si'hmidt); or, ])erha|is, "inciease in disobedience to my auih"i ity '' (llahiwell). Cf. ~J. C. ii. I 107: "growing on the south" (that i>, gaining 138 NOTES. on it, tending that way) ; Hen. V. iii. 3. 55 : "sickness growing Upon our soldiers," etc. 80. rhvsic your runkness. Check this rank growth of your insolence. 83. ll'rfstli-r. "Wrastlcr" in the folio here and elsewhere; but the other spelling was also used in the time of S. The former indicates the pronunciation, which is still a vulgar one in New England. 85. So f lease yon. If it please you ; of winch our " if you please " is a corruption. Cf. Sonn. 136. 11 : "so it please thee," etc. See Aler. pp. 134, 136 ; and for the so, Gr. 133. 90. Some eds. print "Good monsieur Charles! what's," etc. ; making Good monsieur Charles! a response to the greeting = "you are very kind" (M.). 97. Good I care. Full permission. Cf. Af.of V. iii. 2. 326 and i Hen. 7K i. 3. 20. IO2. She. The 1st and 2(1 folios have "he ;" the 3d and 4th, "she." For the " indefinite " use of the infinitive in to stay (very common in S.), see Gr. 356. 107. / 'he forest of Arden. The Forest of Ardennes was in the north- east of France, "between the Meuse and the Moselle;" but it is not necessary to suppose that the poet had this fact in mind. He took the scene from Lodge's novel, lions and all, and did not trouble himself about its geography, which has nevertheless been a sore vexation to some of his commentators. K. has well said : " We most heartily wish that the critics would allow poetry to have its own geography. We do not want to know that Bohemia has no seaboard ; we do not wish to have the: island of Sycorax defined on the map; we do not require that our Forest of Arden should be the Arditenna Svh'a of Caesar and Tacitus, and that its rocks should be 'clay-slate, grauwacke-slate, grauwacke, conglom- erate, quartz rock, and quart/.ose sandstone.' We are quite sure that Ariosto was thinking nothing of French Flanders when he described how two fountains grew, Like in the taste, but in effects unlike, t'tac'ii in Ardeiina, each in other's view: Who tastes the one, love's dart his he.m cloth strike ; Contrary of the other cloth ensue, Who drinks thereof their lovers shall niislike.' We arc equally sure that Shakespeare meant to take his forest nut of the region of the literal when he assigned to it a palm-tree and a lioness." There was also a Forest of Arden in Warwickshire. Drayton, in his Matilda, 1594. speaks of " sweet Arden's nightingales;" and again, in the Idea : "Where nightingales in Arden sit and sin;;, Amongst the daintie dexv-inipearled (lowers. '' loS. A manv. See licit. I', p. 170, <>r Gr. 87. no. l''leet. Not elsewhere u>eilivcly by S. The intransitive verb occurs often ; as in Sonn. 19. 5, M. of I '. iii. 2. 108, i v. I. 135, A". John, ii. i. 285, etc. in. 1'he golden u. iii. 5. 7. Contrive is used in the same bad sense ; as in iv. 3. 134 below. Cf. Hen. V. iv. I. 171, J. C. ii. 3. 16, Ham. iv. 7. 136, etc. 132. His natural brother. Halliwell remarks that ''natural did not formerly imply, as now, illegitimacy." He quotes A\>menclator, 1585: '* h'i Hits Hatnralis, a natural or lawfully begotten sonne."' 133. Had as lief. Good old English, but condemned by some modern grammar-mongers because they cannot "parse" it. Lief is the A. S. fi'i'f, dear. The comparative liefer or lever and the superlative liefest are common in our early writers. Cf. Gowcr (quoted by Tooke) : "And let no thyng to thee be lefe Which to another man is grefc ;" and again : "Three pointes which, I fynde, Ben levest unto mans kyncle ;" Chaucer, C. T. 10995 : " ^ wer e me lever than twenty pound worth loud ;" Id. 11004: "And he had lever talken with a page," etc. S. does not use liefer, but has liefest in 2 Hen. /"/. iii. I. 164 : " my liefest liege." Cf. Spenser, F. Q. iii. 2. 33 : "my liefest liefe" (my dearest love). We have both /A-/ and liefer in /". Q. iii. i. 24 : " These six would me enforce by odds of might To chaunge my liefe, and love another Dame: That deatli me liefer were then such despight"- that is, death would be more welcome to me than such despite. The old use of the comparative is also illustrated by /'. Q. i. 9. 32 : " For lever had I die then see his deadly face." Lief, at first "dear, beloved, pleasing, came to mean willing. Spenser has lief or loth* willing or unwilling; as in /'. Q. iii. 9. 13 : "Or them dislodge, all were they liefe or loth ;" and Id. \i. i. 44 : " lie up arose, however liefe or loth." From this the transition is easy to the adverbial use willingly, as in lidil us lief- would as willingly. The forms //,/ and * Cf. Chaucer's " For lefe ne lothe " (for friend nor enemyl, " al be him luth or lete " (whether it be disagreeable or agreeable to him , elc. 140 NOTES. arc used interchangeably in the folios. The latter is not unknown in good writers of recent date. Matzner quotes Sheridan: "I had as lievc be shot." 134, Thon uvrt best. Another old English idiom, now obsolete. Cf. "J. C. iii. 3. 12 : "Ay, and truly, you were best," etc. The pronoun was originally a dative (to you it were best), but came to be regarded as a nominative ; as in if you please if it please you (sec on 85 above). See (Jr. 230, 352, and cf. 190. 136. J'raelise. Use stratagems, plot (Schmidt). Cf. 2 Ifen. VI. ii. I. 171 : " Have practis'd dangerously against your state." Elsewhere it is followed by on or upon ; as in Much Ado, ii. i. 398, Lear, iii. 2. 57, Oth. ii. I. 319, etc. 140. Brotherly. An adverb, as in the only other instances of the word in S. : 3 Hen. VJ. iv. 3. 38, and Cvnib. iv. 2. 158. 141. Anatomize. Used literally (dissect) in Lear, iii. 6. So ; figura- tively (as here and in ii. 7. 56 below) in A', of L. 1450, A. IV. iv. 3. 37, etc. 147. Gamester. "A frolicsome fellow, a merry rogue " (Schmidt) ; as in T. of S. ii. i. 402 and Hen. I 'III. i. 4. 45. It means a gambler in /,. /.. /,. i. 2. 44, Hen. V. iii. 6. 1 19, etc. ; and a harlot in A. IV. \. 3. 188 and Per. iv. 6. St. 148. Than he. Sec dr. 206, and cf. lines 14 and 250 of the next scene. Coleridge, writing of this passage in 1810, says: "This has always appeared to me one ot the nm>t un-Shakspeai ian speeches in all the genuine works of our poet ; yet I should be nothing surprised, and great- ly pleased, to find it hereafter a fresh beauty, as has so often happened to me with other supposed defects of great men." In 1818, he adds : " It is too venturous to charge a passage in Shaks- peare with want of truth to nature ; and yet at first sight this speech of Oliver's expresses truths which it seems almost impossible that any mind should so distinctly, so livelily, and so voluntarily have presented to itself in connection with feelings and intentions so malignant, and so contrary to those which the qualities expressed would naturally have- called forth. Hut I dare not say that this seeming unnaturalness is not in the nature of an abused wiltulness, when united with a strong intel- lect. In such characters there is sometimes a gloomy self-gratification in making the absoluteness ot the will {sit fro ratione I'olitntas '.} evident to themselves by setting the reason and the conscience in full array against it.'' 149. I-'nll of noble titT/cf. "Of noble conceptions and aims." \Vr. adds that in a copy of the fourth folio which formerly belonged to Steevens he has marked these lines as descriptive of Shakespeare himself. 150. S,>r/s. Ranks, classes. Cf. T. A. i. i. 230 : " With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians," etc. 152. .I//.*/-/'/',,/. Undervalued, slighted. Cf. i. 2. 164 below, and.-/.//', iii. 2. 33 ; also the noun tnisprision in A. 1C. ii. 3. 159. 154. Kindle. Incite. Cf. enkindle in Macb. i. 3. I 2 I. Thither thereto. On -<> about - set about, undertake, see .)/. .V. 1). p. 177. ACT I. SCEXE II. 141 SCF.NE II. The name of Rosalind, here taken by S. from Lodge, was a favourite one with our early poets (Haiti well). I. Sweet my cm. Cf. J. C. ii. I. 25 : "dcai my lord," etc. dr. 13. C\>z was the common abbreviation ol lOiisin, on the use ol which see Kick. II. p. 158. 3. /. Not in the folios ; inserted by Rowe. 5. Learn. Teach; but always with the object expressed. Cf.K.andjf. iii. 2. 12 : '' learn me how to love ;" Cymb. \. 5. 12 : " learn'd me how To make perfumes," etc. Gr. 291. 8. So. See on i. I. 85 above, or Gr. 133 ; and for so . . . us, in n, Gr. 275. ii. Tempered, "Having a certain state or quality, conditioned" (Schmidt). Cf. T. and. C. ii. 3. 265 : "were your days As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper' d," etc. See also Hen. I', p. 1 56. 14. A'<>r none. For the double negative, so common in S., see (ir. 406. Cf. 23 below. 15. Like. Likely, as very often in S. Cf. iv. I. 63 below. 1 6. rerforce. Here -by force ; as in ('. of /:. iv. 3. 95, AY,//. //. ii. 3. 121, J/. .V. J). ii. i. 26, etc. Klsewhcre it is- of necessity ; as in M. A'. />. iii. 2. 90, Hen. I '. v. 2. 161, etc. 17. Render. Give back. Cf. ii. 5. 25 below; also M. of I', iv. I. 383, //itre blush. A blush and no more (Schmidt and M.) ; or, per- haps, a blush that has no shame in it (\Vr.). Come off get off, escape ; as in J/. of I', i. i. 128, Cor. ii. 2. 116, etc. 27. The good housewife Fortune, etc. Cf. A ani/ C. iv. 15. 44 : "That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel." There, as in Hen. I', v. i. 85 (" Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?") hottsevvife or lins- luife (the latter is the usual spelling in the folio) is used contemptuously hussy. Cf. ///;//. ii. 2. 515. J. 11. thinks the word has that meaning here. Fortune is represented with a wheel, as Fluelen explains (Hen. I'. iii. 6. 35), " to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and variation." 34. Honest. Chaste, virtuous ; as often. Cf. M. W. iv. 2. 107, 136, etc. 35. Ill-fa-'onredly. Ill-favoured, ugly. Cf. iii. 5. 53: " iil-favour'd children." Kowe thought it necessary to substitute ill-favoured here ; but cf. iii. 2. 215: "looks he as freshly," etc. Schmidt (p. 1418) gives many examples of this use of adverbs for adjectives. For fa-'tntr- face, see J. C. p. 131 ; and cf. lien, xxix. 17, xxxix. 6. xli. 2, }, 4. etc. 36. From Fortune's <'///', etc. " S. constantly harps on the motive powers of human action : nature, destiny, chance, art, custom. In tins place, he playfully distinguishes nature from chance ; in \\ 7 . /'. iv. }, he argues that the resources ot art are themselves gifts of nature : ' Nature still is bettered by no mean Hut nature made that mean.' In .]/, !. i. 3 he shows that destiny can work itself without our help I' if 142 A r OTES. chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me '), and in If am. !ii. 4. 161, he splendidly exhibits the force of custom in 'almost changing the stamp of nature' " (M.). 39. When Nature, etc. " True that fortune does not make fair feat- ures ; but she can mar them by some accident. So nature makes us able to philosophize, chance spoils our grave philosophy by sending us a fool" (M.). 44, Natural. Fool, idiot. Cf. Temp. iii. 2. 37, and K. and J. ii. 4. 96. 47. Who, perceiving, etc. The folio reads: "who perceiueth our nat- ural! wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Natural!, " etc. Malone inserted "and" before hath; the reading in the text is that of the 2d and later folios. M. paraphrases the passage thus: "Or, perhaps, on the other hand, good mother Nature thinks us so dull that she sends us her ' natural ' to sharpen our wits." To reason of\.n talk about, discuss. For of, see Gr. 174. 49. Whetstone of the wits. The title of Robert Recorde's Arithmetic is "The Whetstone of Witte." 50. Wit! whither -wander yon ? " Wit, whither wilt ?" (iv. I. 151) was a proverbial saying ; perhaps, as St. suggests, the beginning of some old ballad. 58. A 'aught. Worthless, bad. Cf. Afuch Ado, v. i. 157 : " the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's naught ;" Hen. V. i. 2. 73 : "corrupt and naught," etc. The word in this sense is usually spelled naught in the early eels. ; but nought when it means nothing (Schmidt). And yet urns not the knight fors'Morn. Uoswcll quotes the old play of Damon and Pithias : " I haue taken a wise othe on him : have I not, trow ye, To trust yuch a false knave upon his honestie? As he is an honest man (qnoth you ?) he may bewrny all to the kinge, And breke his oth for this never a whit.'" llalliwell compares Rich. III. iv. 4. 366 fol. 73. Old Frederick. The reading of the folios, which, however, assign the following speech to Rosalind. As Frederick was Celia's father (v. 4. 149!, some editors have changed Frederick to " Ferdinand ;" others have given, as we do, the next speech to Cclia. The latter seems the simpler way out of the difficulty ; and such errors in the names of characters are by no means rare in the early eds. '74. To honour him enough. The pointing of the folio. Some eds. fol- low Hamner's "to honour him: enough!" but the original reading is quite in the manner of S. 75. Taxation. Satire, invective. Cf. tax accuse, inveigh against, in ii. 7. 71, 86 below ; also in Much Ado, i. i. 46, T. and C. i. 3. 97, Ham. I. 4. 1 8, etc. We still speak of " taxing a person with " anything. Whipping, as Douce shows, was the usual punishment of fools. 79. Bv HIV troth. The most common form of the petty oath of which 0' HIV troth ! in troth ! good troth ! and the simple troth .' are variations. For troth in its original sense ( ; truth), cf. M. A'. D. ii. 2. 36 : " to speak troth ;" and see notes in our ed. pp. 151, 153. ACT I. SCEA'E 77. '43 80. Was silenced. " Perhaps referring to some recent inhibition of the players" (Wr.). 84. Put on us. Inflict on us, force upon us; or perhaps simply tell us, as Schmidt and Wr. explain it. Cf. M. for M. ii. 2. 133, T. A', v. I. 70, Hum. i. 3. 94, etc. 90. Sport ! of what colour? The Coll. MS. gives "Spot !" and Coll. suggests that Celia is ridiculing Le Beau's affected pronunciation of the word; but colour may be = kind, as Schmidt makes it. Cf. /.ear, ii. 2. 145 : "a fellow of the self-same colour," etc. 94. Laid on with a trowel. This was no doubt a proverbial hit at clumsy or gross flattery ; but M. strangely explains it, " well rounded off into a jingle ; the lines being pronounced 'As wit and fortune will. Or as The destinies decree.' " Schmidt thinks it is "probably without ceremony." 95, 96. Rank. There is a similar play upon the word in Cymb. ii. I. 17 (Schmidt). 97. Amaze. Confuse, put me in a maze. Cf. l r . and A. 684: "a labyrinth to amaze his foes;" K. John, iv. 3. 140: "I am ama/.'d, me- thinks, and lose my way ;" M. for M. iv. 2. 224 : " Vet you are amazed ; but this shall absolutely resolve you," etc. 101. To do. A common idiomatic use of the infinitive active. Cf. T. N. iii. 2. 18 : " What 's to do ?'' etc. Gr. 359. It is still in good use in many phrases; as "a house to let," for which some over-fastidious folk think it necessary to substitute " to be let." 104, Come*. The singular verb is often found before two singular subjects ((Jr. 336), as well as before a plural subject (Gr. 335) ; and here we have a combination of the two cases. 106. Proper. Comely. See RIer. p. 132, note on A prefer mail's pict- ure. Cf. Ileb. xi. 23. 108. With />ills on tlu'ir necks. Farmer and 1). would make these words part of the preceding speech, and Coll. favours that arrangement. The bill was "a kind of pike or halberd, formerly carried by the English infantry, and afterwards the usual weapon of watchmen " (Xares). It was also used by foresters. Lodge describes Rosader " with his forrest bill on his necke," that is, on his shoulder. For the play upon bill, cf. Much Ado, iii. 3. 191 and 2 Hen. /"/. iv. 7. 135. On the whole, we think that the entire speech belongs to Rosalind, and that the main pun, so to speak, is on presence and presents, as Johnson and Capell have suggested. Of course there may be a secondary play on the two senses of bills. 1 1 1. Which Charles. See Gr. 269 ; and for that- so that, Gr. 283. 115. Dole. Grief. Cf. ,)/. N. D. v. i. 283 : "What dreadful dole is here !" Ham. i. 2. 13 : " delight and dole," etc. 125. Broken music. Chappell (quoted by Wr.) says: "Some instru- ments, such as viols, violins, flutes, etc., were formerly made in sets of four, which when played together formed a 'consort.' If one or more of the instruments ot one set were substituted lor the corresponding ones ol another set, the result was no longer a 'consort,' but 'broken music.''' 144 NOTES. For the play upon the expression, cf. Hen. 1 T . v. 2. 263 and T. and C. iii. i. 52. The use of see here has troubled some of the critics. Warb. wished to read "set," and Heath "get;" but, as Johnson remarks, sec is used col- loquially for perception. Cf. Luke, xii. 55 : "see the south wind blow ;" Pope, OJyssev : " See from their thrones thy kindred monarchs sigh, "etc. In the present case, we might say that, though Rosalind speaks of see- ing " broken music," she has in mind the wrestling. 137. Looks successfuliv. Looks as if he would be successful. Cf. lien. I', iv. prol. 39 : " Hut freshly looks ;" Temp. iii. I. 32 : " You look wearily ;" Kick, 111. i. 4. I : " Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ?" etc. See also on 35 above. 138. Arc you crept! Have you ere]); ? See dr. 295. 140. So please von. See on i. 1.85 above. 142. /// the men. The folios have "man," which some editors retain, but it is probably a misprint for "men." 148. The princess calls. Theo. changed this to "the princesses call :' : Walker, 1)., and M. take "princess" to be a plural (dr. 471). Coll. ex- plains the passage thus : "Cclia had desired I.e Beau to call Orlando to her. and Orlando, seeing two ladies, very naturally answers, ' I attend ///f I . iv. 4. 112, etc. It is also used in wishing success; as in .)/. .V. '/). i. I. iSo : "dod speed fair Helena !" etc. See also Gen. xxiv. 12 and 2 John, 10, 1 1. ACT I. SCEXE II. !45 197. Should down. A common ellipsis in S. See dr. 405. 199. Well-breathed. In full breath, well started. Schmidt compares the Fr. mis fit haleine. Cf. T. of S. iiul. 2. 50 : " as swift As breathed stags ;" A. and C. iii. 13. 178: "I will be treble -siuew'd, hearted, bicath'd;" L. L. L. v. 2. 659 : "A man so breath' cl that certain he would fi;.;ht : yeA From morn till night." 209. Still. Constantly. Gr. 69. 210. Shouldst. \Ve should say " wouldst." dr. 322. 216. Calling. "Appellation; a very unusual, if not unprecedented sense of the word" (Steevens). Elsewhere S. uses it in the modern sense ; but (with the exception of /Vr. iv. 2. 43) only of the ecclesiastical profession. 221. i T nto. In addition to. Cf. Rich. II. v. 3. 97 : " Unto my mother's prayers I IXJIH! my knee." For to in the same sense, see dr. 185. 225. .-// heart. To the heart. Cf. T. and C. iii. 2. 2O2. For the omis- sion of the article, see Gr. 90. 227. But justly as. Just as, only as (Caldecott). Hanmer and Steevens omit all. The 2d folio has "all in." 229. This. A chain ; as appears from iii. 2. 169. Out of suits, etc. Kither "turned out of the service of Fortune and stripped of her livery" (Steevens), or "out of her books or graces" (Johnson). "(Jut of sorts " is an anonymous emendation. 230. Could. Could with a good will, would like to. Cf. A. and C. i. 2. 131 : "The hand could pluck her back that shov'd her on." 232. My fatter parts. Caldecott quotes Macb. \. 8. 18: "For it hath cow'd my better part of man." 234. A quintain. That is, a mere wooden image of a man. The quintain, in its simplest form, was an upright post, with a cross-bar turn- ing on a pivot at the top ; at one end of this bar was a broad target, at the other a heavy sand-bag. The sport was to ride at full speed at the target, hit it with a lance, and get out of the way before the sand-bag should swing round and strike the tilter on the back. The figure of a Saracen, with a shield on his left arm, and a drawn sabre in his right hand, sometimes took the place of the post with its cross-bar. Running at the quintain is said to have been a favourite sport at country weddings in Oxfordshire as late as the end of the ryth century. According to llalliwell, a quintain is still preserved at Offham, in Kent, the owner of the estate being obliged under some ancient tenure to support it. The same editor quotes Minsheu, Diet. 1617: "A quintainc or quintclle, a game in request at marriages, when Jac and Tom, Dick, Hob and \\ill, strive for the gay garland ;"' also Randolph, Poems, 1642 : ' Foot-Kill with us may be with them balloone; As th-jy at tills, so we at quint. line run ; And those o'd pastimes relish best with me, Th.it have least art, and most simplieiiie." 2,7. O-'crt/iri^^'ii nioir, c!c. C'f. what Celia says in iii. 2. io~ : "If is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant." 14 6 NOTES. 239. Hare with you. I'll go with you ; a common idiom. Cf. M. JV. ii. i. 161, 229, 239, iii. 2. 93, L. L. L. iv. 2. 151, Cor. ii. i. 286, etc. 241. Conferenif. Conversation; as often. Cf. Mueh Ado, ii. 3. 229; "the conference was sadly borne," etc. For the measure, see (.Jr. 494. 243. Or . . . or. See Gr. 136. 247. Condition. Temper, disposition (Johnson). Cf. M. of }'. i. 2. 143: "the condition of a saint," etc The word is here a quadrisyllable. See dr. 479. 248. Miseonstrues. The folio has " misconsters," the old spelling of the word, which Halliwell and \V. retain. So construe was spelled and pronounced " conster." 249. Humorous. Capricious. Cf. ii. 3. 8 and iv. i. 18 below. See also A'. John, iii. i. 119: " her humorous ladyship " [Fortune], etc. 250. /. See on i. i. 148 above, and cf. iii. 2. 144 below. 253. Was. Changed by Halliwell to " were ;" but see Gr. 333 and cf. 412. 255. Smaller. The folio has "taller;" but cf. i. 3. 113 and iv. 3. 87 below. We adopt Malone's emendation, as nearest to the old text. Cf. Greene, James 71'.: "my small son." "Shorter," "lower," and " lesser " are other modern readings. 262. Argument. Cause, reason. Cf. iii. I. 3 below ; also M. If. ii. 2. 256, T. A', iii. 3. 12, Kic/i. III. i. i. 148, etc. 265. On ;//)' life. A common oath. Cf. M. //'. v. 5. 200, If. T. \: i. 4} etc. So O' my life' (M. If. i. I. 40), by my life (iv. I. 143 and v. 2. 65 be- low), etc. 267. /;/ a better world. In better times. C'f. Rieh. II. iv. i. 78: "in this new world" (this new state of things); T. and C. iii. 2. 180: "in the world to come" (in coming time, in future generations), etc. 269. Rest. Remain. Cf. M. of I', i. I. 152 : " rest debtor ;" If. T. iii. 3. 49 : "still rest thine," etc. See also iii. 2. 64 below. On bottndcn, cf. A'. John, iii. 3. 29 ; and see Gr. 344. 270. From the smoke, etc. That is, from bad to worse. Smother = "thick and suffocating smoke" (Schmidt). SCKNE III. ii. My cJiiid's father. That is, him whom I hope to marry. Rowe (2d ed. ) changed it to "my father's child," which is ap- proved by Coleridge and 11., and adopted by K., I)., and Coll., who finds it in the Coll. MS. I!ut, as M. remarks, " S. would have smiled at the emendation." The original reading would undoubtedly be indelicate now, but it was not considered so in the poet's day. Hcsides, the change is inconsistent with the conduct of the dialogue, in which Rosalind is represented as constantly thinking and speaking of her lover (Halliwell), For a fuller discussion of the subject, see White's Shakespeare's Seholar. 12. This ivorking-dav world. This c\ cry-day lite of ours. C'f. A. and C. i. 2. 55 : " but a worky-day fortune." 18. Han them ttwav. Cough them away; as if the "burs" were in her throat or chest (Si.). In eiy hem and ha~'e him, there is perhaps a play on hem and liim. 26. On sin /i a sudden. Not elsewhere used by S. On the sudden ACT I. SCENE III. .147 seems to be his favourite phrase, but he uses also on a sudden and of a sudden. With-im. For other i>eculiar uses of wit A, see (jr. 193, 194. 31. Chase. That is, fallowing the argument; "alluding, possibly, to the deer, quibbling on the word dearly" (Ilalliwcll). For a play on dear and deer, see V. and A. 231, AI. IV. v. 5. 18, 123, L. L. L. iv. i. 1 15, T. of S* v. 2. 56, I Hen. IV. v. 4. 107, etc. 32. Dearly. Heartily. Cf. Ham. iv. 3. 43; and see Temp. p. 124 (note on The dear'st o" //*' loss) or Kick. JI. p. 154. 35. Deserve well. Deserve /'/ well ; that is, to lie hated. Rosalind purposely misinterprets the phrase. Theo. wished to read " Why should 1 hate?" M alone explains it thus: "Celia answers Rosalind, who had desired her not to hate Orlando, as if she had said love him." 39. Safest haste. "The haste which is your best safety" (M.). " Fast- est haste" is a stupid suggestion of the Coll. MS. 40. Cousin. Niece ; as in T. N. i. 3. 5, T. and C. i. 2. 44, etc. Elsewhere S. uses it for nephew, uncle, brother-in-law, and grandchild; also as a mere complimentary form of address between princes, etc. 41. If that. For that as "a conjunctional affix," see Gr. 287. Cf. 47 just below. 45. If with myself, etc. If I know my own mind. 51. J'urgatioH. Exculpation. Cf. Hen. I' 1 1 1. v. 3. 152: "and fair purgation," etc. See also v. 4. 43 below. 61. My father was no traitor. " Rosalind's brave spirit will not allow her to defend herself at her father's expense, or to separate her cause from his. There are few passages in S. more instinctively true and noble than this. She had not offended her uncle, even in thought, though every one else was doing so. But the least suggestion that her father is a traitor rouses her in arms to defend him " (M.). 62. Good my liege. See on i. 2. I above. 63. To think. As to think. See Gr. 281. My fewer -tv- : one so poor as I. 65. Stay'd. See on i. i. 7 above. 68. Kemorse. Pity, compassion. Cf. M. of I', iv. i. 20 : "mercy and remorse ;" A'. John, iii. 4. 50 : " tears of soft remorse," etc. The only meaning of remorseful in S. is compassionate, and of remorseless (as in our day) pitiless. 69. That time. At that time. Wr. quotes A. and C. ii. 5. 18 : "That time () times! I laugh'd him out of patience." 71. Still. See on i. 2. 209 above. 72. At an instant. For an = one, see Gr. Si. 73- JHIIO'S swans. M. says "the swans which draw Juno's chariot ;" but we are not aware of any classical authority for this. Her chariot was drawn by peacocks, as S. himself makes it in Temp. iv. I. 73. \Vr. suggests that we ought to read " Venus' " here, as Ovid (Met. x. 708) represents her as drawn by swans ; but S. ( 7t'w/>. iv. i. 941 describes her as "clove-drawn," which is also in accordance with the old mythology. S. probably wrote 'Juno's" here 1 , forgetting or confusing the ancient fables for the moment, as the Rugby master seems to have done above. 148 MOTES. 76. Patience. A trisyllabic here. Gr. 479. 79. Slnm>. Appear; as often in S. C 1. 1', and A. 366 : " Show'd like Iwo silver doves ;" K. of L. ded. 5 : " my duty would show greater ;" M. of V. iv. i. 196: "doth then show likest God's," etc. For the thought Wr. compares A. and C. ii. 3. 2& : "Thy lustre thickens When he shines by." 85. Provide yourself. Prepare yourself, get ready to go. Cf. Ham. iii. 3. 7 : " We will ourselves provide," etc. 94. No t hath not? The pointing of the folio, which seems well enough. Sr. and Halliwell read "no hath not ;" and the latter calls it "a singular idiom, found also in other plays, which perhaps would be better under- stood by the modern reader if printed no "hath not." 1 " 95. Which teacheth thee, etc. "Which ought to teach you as it has already taught me" (M.). Theo. changed thee to "me" and am to "are ;" but the sense does not require the former change, nor the gram- mar that is, Elizabethan grammar the latter one. Even the learned Hen Jonson could write (The Fox, ii. i) "both it and I am at your ser- vice," and (Cynthia's Revels, i. i) "My thoughts and I am for this other element, water." Cf. Gr. 412. 100. The charge. The 1st folio has "your change," the other folios "your charge." Sr. proposed the charge, which D. and W. adopt. Ma- lone explains "your change" as "your change or reverse of fortune.' 1 '' 102. For, by this hearen, etc. " By this heaven, or the light of heaven, with its lustre faded in sympathy with our feelings" (Caldecott). 105. To seek my uncle, etc. Campbell remarks : " Before I say more of this dramatic treasure, I must absolve myself by a confession as to some of its improbabilities. Rosalind asks her cousin Celia, 'Whither shall we go?' and Celia answers, 'To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.' l>ut, arrived there, and having purchased a cottage and sheep- farm, neither the daughter nor niece of the banished Duke seem to trouble themselves much to inquire about either father or uncle. The lively and natural-hearted Rosalind discovers no impatience to embrace her sire until she has finished her masked courtship with Orlando. But Rosalind was in love, as I have been wilh the comedy these forty years ; and love is blind for until a late period my eyes were never couched so as to see this objection. The truth, however, is, that love is -wilfully blind ; and now that my eyes are opened, I shut them against the fault. Away with your best-proved improbabilities, when the heart has been touched and the fancy fascinated ! When I think of the lovely Mrs. Jordan in this part, I have no more desire for proofs of probability on iliis subject (though ' proofs pellucid as the morning dews'), than for 'ihe cogent logic of a bailiffs writ.'" 108. Beauty provoketh thieves, etc. Cf. Milton, Cotnus, 393: " I'.ut Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree, I.aden with blooming gold, had need the guan ( It dragon watch with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms and defend her Iruit," e ACT II. SCENE /. 149 1 12. Stir. Excite, rouse. Cf. IV. T. v. 3. 74 : "I am sorry I have thus far stirred you," etc. 113. Because that. See on 41 above, or Gr. 287; and for common^ Gr. i. 114. Suit me all points. Dress myself in all respects. For the omis- sion of the preposition, see Gr. 202. 1 15. Cin'iie-axe. Cutlass. It is the Fr. cotttelas, which from the form conrtelas became corrupted into curt/ass, flirt/axe, and ctirtlc-axf. These are but a few of the old spellings, but will serve to show how a sword was gradually turned into an "axe." Spenser (F. Q. iv. 2. 42) calls it "curtaxe." Cut/ash and cut/ace (Johnson) were later forms. For the derivation of the word, see Wb. 118. Swtis/iing. Swaggering, blustering. Cf. swasher braggart, bully, in lien. I', iii. 2. 30. Swashbuckler was used in the same sense. Calde- colt quotes Antichrist, 1550: "Swashing abbottes, which will be called and regarded as princes, and kepe a state, as if they were lordes.'' 119. Mannish. Cf. C\ml>. iv. 2. 236: "though now our voices Have got the mannish crack ;" and T. and C. iii. 3. 217 : "A woman impudent and mannish grown." 1 20. Outface it. Face it out. Cf. Afitt/i -/, v. I. 94: " Scambling, outfacing, fashion -monging boys." For the use of //, see Gr. 226. 126. Alieiia. \Vr. says, "with the accent on the second syllable;" but surely Celia is a trisyllabic, as in 65 above, and Aliena accented on the penult, as it ought to be. 127. Assa^ii. Tried, attempted. Cf. Oth. ii. 3. 207 : "Assays to lead the way," etc. 131. ll'tv. Solicit, gain over. Cf. Kick. //. i. 4. 28: "Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles ;" T. and C. iii. I. 162 : " I must woo you To help unarm our Hector," etc. 135. Go ii'c in content. The leading of the later folios; the first has "in we." Content is a noun, as in iii. 2. 24 below. ACT II. SCENE I. I. Exile. Accented on the last syllabic, as in K. ctint y. iii. 3. 20, 140 (but exile in 13 and 43), v. 3. 211, etc. S. also uses the verb with both accents. 2. Old custom. Continued habit. 5. Here feel iin the contrary, it \\.is, ' In the sweat of thy tace shall thou eat bread.' Milton repiesetits the repentant Adam as iluis interpreting the penalty : 'On me the curse ;i>li>pe Glanced mi llie sioumi ; -nig the food he eats, And pleas d until iv/uit he gets? The exiled courtiers led a life without toil a life in which they were contented with a little and they were thus exempt from the 'penalty of Adam.' We close, therefore, the sentence at ' Adam.' ' The seasons' difference ' is now the antecedent of ' these are counsellors ;' the freedom of construction common to Shakespeare and the poets of his time fully warranting this acceptation of the reading. In this way, the Duke says, ' The differences of the seasons are counsellors that teach me what I am ; as, for example, the winter's wind which, when it blows upon my body, I snvle, and say, this is no flattery.' We may add that, immediately fol- lowing the lines we have quoted from the Paradise Lost, Adam alludes to ' the seasons' difference,' but in no respect as part of the curse : ' With labour I must earn My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse. My labour will sustain me; and lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought provided, and his hands Cloth' d us unworthy, pitying while He juclji'd. How much more, if ive pray Him. will liis ear lie open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us further by what means to shun 'I'll' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow.' On the other hand, W., Wr., and M. take the ground that "the sea- sons' difference" was the penalty of Adam. Wr. quotes Hacon, who says that in the golden age of Paradise there was "a spring all the yeal round ;" and M. refers to Milton, P. L. x. 668-679. ACT II. SCENE I. 151 It is not easy to choose I>et\veen the two readings, and in such cases our rule is to adhere to the early text. \Ve shall not quarrel with those who prefer the very plausible emendation of Then. 6. As. As for instance, namely. Cf. iv. 3. 141 below. See also Macb. v. iii. 25, etc. Gr. 113. 8. Which. As to which. See Gr. 272. 13. Like the toad, etc. Cf. 3 Hen. 1 7. ii. 2. 138 : " venom toads ;" Rich. III. i. 2. 148 : " Never hung poison on a fouler toad," etc. See also Alacb. p. 228. Halliwell says that a woodcut in A New Years Gifte to the Pope's Holinessc, 1579, represents a monk of Swinstead Abl>ey ex- tracting poison from a toad, with which he poisons King fohn. The same editor gives many quotations to show that better naturalists than S. be- lieved in the toad-stone, the " precious jewel " of the text. Fenton, in his Secrete Wonders of Nature, 1569, says thai "there is founde in the heades of old and great toades, a stone which they call IJorax or Stelon : it is most commonly founde in the head of a hec toad, of power to repulse poysons, and that it is a most soveraigne medicine for the stone." The Italian physician Camillo, in his Speculum Lapidum, describes it by the names of IJorax, Nosa, and Crapondinus, and as being lound in the brain of a toad just killed. Its virtues are also set forth in Lupton's Thou- sand Notable Things, 1586, in TopsclPs History of Serpents, 1608, and by other learned writers of the time. Fuller, in his Church History, tells us that " some report that the toad before her death sucks up, if not prevented with sudden reprisal, the precious stone, as yet but a jelly, in her head, grudging mankind the good thereof." Allusions to the toad-stone are frequent in the literature of that day. Meres, in his Palladis Tamia (see p. IO above), says : " As the fouie toade hath a faire stone in his head ; the fine golcle is founde in the filthie earth ; the sweete kernell lyeth in the harde shell," etc. Lyly, in his Eitphties, also says that " the foule toad hath a faire stone in his head." Cf. IS. and F., Monsieur Thomas: ' in most physicians' heads There is a kind in loadstone bred;" Hen Jonson, The Fox: "His saffron jewel with the loadstone in it,'' etc. 18. I -could not change it. The folios make these words the end of the preceding speech, but Upton has been generally followed in transferring them to Amiens. Capell defends the old text. 21. Go and kill us. See on i. I. 68 ; and for us, Gr. 223. 22. Irks me. Cf. the Eton Latin Grammar: " Taedet, it irketh." See also i Hen. 17. i. 4. 105 : " it irks his heart ;" and 3 Hen. 17. ii. 2. 6 : "it irks my very soul." S. uses the word only three times. Irksome oc- curs in iii. 5. 04 below. I''ool is sometimes used as "a term of endearment or pitv" (Schmidt). Cf. W. '/'. ii. I. iS : " 1 >o not weep, poor tools ;" } //,//. / 7. ii. v }(> : " s " many weeks ere the poor tools will ean," etc. Halliwell quotes a poem by Harington, addrosed to his wife : "Tim- then I dm: n-jnici- in that thmi grieve*!. And ycl, ^wcct foo.e, 1 love tliec, thuu uelccvtal " '52 A'OTES. 23. linrgficrs. Citizens. Cf. Af. of V, \. I. 10 : "Like seniors and rich burghers on the flood." In Sidney's Arcadia (quoted by Steevens) deer are called "the wild burgesses of the forest;" and in Drayton's Poiyoibion the hart is "a burgess of the wood." Malone adds from Lodge's novel, "About her woiid'ring stood The citizens of ilie wood." 24. Confines. For the accent, cf. Sonn. 83. 4 : " In whose confine im- mured is the store," etc. S. oftener accents it on the first syllable ; as in y. C. iii. I. 272 : " Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice," etc. Cf. Gr. 490. Forked heads. Of arrows. Wr. quotes Ascham, 7\ixo/>/iilns : "Com- niodus the Emperoure vscd forked heades, whose facion llerodaine doeth lyuely and naturally describe, sayingc that they were lyke the shap of a new mono whcrwyth he would smite of the headc of a birde and ncuer misse." 26. y,n/nes. A dissyllable, as always in S. Cf. A. II'. iii. 4. 4 : "I am Saint Jaq ties' pilgrim, thither gone;" Id. iii. 5. 98: "There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound," etc. 27. /// that kind. In that way. Cf. Much Ado, ii. I. 70 : " if the prince do solicit you in that kind," etc. 30. Lay alcng. Lay at full length. Cf. y. C. iii. I. 15 : "That now on I'ompcy's basis lies along," etc See also iii. 2. 225 below. " Shakspeare," said Coleridge, " never gives a description of rustic scenery merely for its own sake, or to show how well he can paint nat- ural onjecta : he is never tedious or elaborate : but while he now and then displays marvellous accuracy and minuteness ot knowledge, he usually only touches upon the larger features and broader characteristics, leaving the fillings up to the imagination. Thus, in As )'i>u Like It, he describes an oak of many centuries' growth in a single line 'Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out.' Other and inferior writers would have dwelt on this description, and worked it out with all the pettiness and impertinence of detail. In Shakspeare, the 'antique' rout furnishes the whole picture." Steevens quotes Gray's Elegy, 101 : "There at the foot of yonder nodding 1oie upon the brook that babbles by." 31. Antique.. Spelt antique or antiek in the early eds. without regard to the meaning, but always accented on the first syllable. Se: Alack. P- -,U- ^5. .S'///< V< v'tcr'd from all your train?'' Here the accent is .MI the first syllable, as in the noun in Otli. iii. 4. 40: "A sequester fiom liberty, fasting, and prayer." In 7'. and C. iii. 3. S, it is accented as in the text. 36. The wretched animal, etc. In a marginal note to a similar passage ACT II. SCEXE I. '53 In Drayton's /'oiyolbion, it is said that " the hartc weepcth at his dying : his tears are held to be precious in medicine." We frul the same idea in Batman, Sidney, and other writers of the time. Malone quotes Virgil, /En. vii. 500 : "Saticius at quadrupes nota intra tetia refugit, Successitque gcuiens st;ibuhs; questuquc. cruentus, Aique imploianti siniili>, tectuui unuic rcp.cvit." 39. Cotirs\l. Chased. Cf. J/ui/'. i. 6. 21 : "We cours'd him at the heels," etc. 41. The melancholy Jnqncs. M. observes : "To furnish a marked con- trast to these characters [Orlando, Rosalind, and the Duke] to assail them one after another with attempts to shake their trust in mankind to whisper sneers against love ami happiness to suggest that their life, simple though it is, still has the taint of the world upon it and to pat- ronize enthusiastically such rascalities as accident biings there is the part assigned to the melancholy Jaques ; a character created, with con- summate skill, to throw the whole meaning of the play into a clear light, and to bring out the moral lesson conveyed by it. He has been most profligate in his youth; has travelled in Italy, the mother of all iniqui- ties, to gain experience there ; and has spent his estate in so doing. He is therefore persuaded that the knowledge of huma.i nature which he has thus gained will be of great service to the world, if it can only be induced to listen. But how instantly and humiliatingly is he put to rout by the three glad hearts that lie tries to sour! Orlando absolutely re- fuses to rail against the world in his company, and reciprocates with a hearty good will, though jocosely, all Jaques' expressions of antipathy to his ways of thinking. Rosalind sarcastically asks hiu. about his travels. What have they done for him? Has he learned to despise home dress and home manners? sold his own lands to sec other people's? learned to chide God for making him the countryman he is? And what is this melancholy of which he boasts? Something as bad or worse than the most giddy merriment ; something that incapacitates him from action as completely and more permanently than drunkcnnes;. Above all, the Duke tells him, without the slightest reserve, although with perfect good humour, that his gifts as a moralist can do nothing for the world; that his former life unfits him to be a reformer; that if he attempts such a task, he will only corrupt the world by his experience ; and to all these bufferings, right hand and left, Jaqucs replies in a way which shows that he is incapable of understanding their depth of mea.iing. lie escapes from Rosalind and Orlando because he does not like the 'blank verse' they talk ; and shirks the admonition of the Duke and all its serious wisdom, by arguing that no one would have a right to be offended by satire of a general character, or need apply it to himself as if the Duke had been admonishing him to avoid olieiiding other.-, and not to avoid corrupting others."' For a similar (but earlier) view of Jaques's character, see White's Shakespeare s Scholar (New York, 1X54) or his Tale of the /v/v.v/ of Ar- licit in the Galaxy for April, 1875. "in the latter he rcmaiks: "What Jaques called melancholy was what we now call cynicism a sullen, 154 NOTES. scoffing, snarling spiiit. And this Jaques had. He was simply a cynic, and a very bitter one. . . . He was one of those men who believe in nothing gooJ, and who, as the reason of their lack of faith in human nature and of hope of human happiness, and their want of charity, tell us that they have seen the world. ... In brief, Jaques was Falstaff, with- out his fat and his humour." See also Gervinus, Shakespeare Commentaries, trans, by Miss Bunnctt, revised ed. (1875), p. 393 fol.* 42. 7'/;' extreinest verge. The very edge. S. accents extreme on the first syllable, except in Sonn. 129.4, 10 (Schmidt). Extremest, which he uses often, has the modern accent. Cf. AI. of V. i. i. 138, Kick. II. iv. i. 47. etc. 44. Moralize. Moralize upon, draw a moral from. Cf. T. of S. iv. 4. 81 : "1 pray thce, moralize them," etc. 46. Into. Changed by Tope to " in." Cf. Gr. 159. Needless. Not needing it. Cf. care/ess = \mcared for (Afacb. i. 4. 11), sii^/ith-ss unseen (Afacb. i. 7. 23), etc. Gr.4. Steevens quotes L. C. 38-40 and 3 Hen. VI. v. 4. 8. 49. Heing there. As to his being there. 50. Of. Hy. (Jr. 170. Velvet- "sleek and prosperous" (Wr.), or "soft, delicate " (Schmidt). The folios have "friend," which Halliwell, K., and V. retain. 52. h'lnx. Flow, confluence. S. uses the word only here and in iii. 2. 63 below. 57. bankrupt. M. remarks : " A few dates will show the painful re- ality of this simile to S. His own father had been bankrupt at Strat- * On the oilier hand. Hudson (XhtikespearS s Life. Art, and Characters. 1872, vol. i. p. 343) says: "Jaques is, I believe, an universal favourite, as indeed lie well may be, for he is certainly one of llie Poet's happiest conceptions. . . . Shedding the twilight of his tnerry-sad spirit over all the darker spots of human life and character, he represents tlie abstract and sum-total of an utterly useless yet perfectly hatmless man, seeking wisdom by abjuring its first principle. . . . On the whole, if in Touchstone there is much of the philosopher in the fool, in Jaques there is not less of the tool in ihe philosopher ; so that the German critic, Ulrici, is not so wide of the maik in calling them ' two tools.' " Ulrici (Shaksfi fare's Dramatic Art. trans, from the 3d. ed. by L. D. Schmitz, 1876, vol. ii. p. 18) says: ''The melancholy Jaques is not the fool by profession, he appears rather to be simply a comic character far cxcellenct ; but his meditative superficiality, his witty sentimentality, his merry sadness, have taken so complete a hold of his nature, that it seems to contradict itself, and therefore upon a closer examination distinctly bears the impress of folly, although it certainly is an original kind of folly " Dowden (see p 20 above 1 remarks : " The melancholy ot Jaques is not grave and earn- est, but sentimental, a self-indulgent humour, a petted foible of character, melancholy prepense and cultivated. . . . Jaques died, we know not how or when or where ; but he came to life again a century later, and appeared in the world as an Knghsh clergyman ; we need stand in no doubt as to his character, for we all know him under his later name 'if I.awicnce Sterne. . . . His whole life js unsubstantial and unreal ; a curiosity of dainty mockery. To him 'all the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players ;' to him sentiment stands in place ot passion : an isthetic, amateurish excellence of various modes of life stands in piace ofpracttc.il wisdom ; and wouls in place of deeds. . . . The world, not as it is, but as it mirrors itself in his own mind, which gives to each object a humorous distortion; this is what alone interests Jaques. Shakspere would sav to us, 1 This egotistic, contemplative, unreal manner of teaching life is only a delicate kind of fooiery. Heal knowledge of life . \. 5. 37), "to sink for food " (Cyiiid. iii. 6. 17), etc. In T. G. of I', i. 2. 136, " fur catching cold "- tor tear of catching cold. Cf. (Jr. 154. 74. That I graze. < )f the sheep that I feed. 76. Little recks. Little cares. Cf. T. U. of I', iv. 3. 40: "recking as i6o NOTES. little what bctidcth me." See also V. and A. 283, etc. Halliwcll has 'wreaks," the folio spelling. 78. Cote. Cottage (cf. 87 below). So sheefeote in next line and in ' v - 3- 77- See also IV. T. iv. 4. 808, etc. Bounds of feed limits of pasturage, pastures. 82. /// my voice. In my name, so far as I am concerned. Cf. M.for M. i. 2. 185 : " Implore her in my voice," etc. 83. What is he? Who is he ? Cf. ii. 7. 79 below. See Gr. 254 ; and on shall, Gr. 315. 84. But ernohile. Just now. Cf. iii. 5. 104 below. Sec also /.. L. L. iv. i. 99 and A/. /V. D. iii. 2. 274. 86. If it stand with honesty. If it is consistent with honesty ; that is, with the understanding you have with Silvius. Cf. Cur, ii. 3. 91, ttc. 90. Waste. Spend. Cf. M. of I', iii. 4. 12, Temp. \. i. 302, M. N. D. ii. i. 57, etc. See also Milton, Sonn. to Mr. Lawrenee, 4 : " Help waste a sullen day." 94. feeder. Shepherd, the feeder of your flocks. Wr. makes it servant, and compares A. and C. iii. 13. 109 (where Schmidt explains it as " parasite "). SCKNE V. 3. Turn. Pope substituted "tune," but the editors gen- erally retain the original reading. Sr. quotes Hall, Satires, vi. i : " While threadbare Martial turns his merry note ;" but Coll. thinks this is only justifying one misprint by another. Pope's emendation is favoured by T. G.'ofV. v. 4- 5 ' And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes." But, as Wr. remarks, "to turn his mcrrv note may mean adapt or modu- late his note to the sweet birds' song, following it in its changes." Whiter says that "/<< turn a tune, in the counties of York and Ihnham, is the appropriate and familiar phrase for modulating the voice properly ac- cording to the titr.ts or air of the tune." 5. Come hither. Let him come hither. Gr. 364. 6. Here shall he see, etc. Cf. ii. I. 6 fol. 12. As a -ti.ieast'1 sucks eggs. Cf. Hen. I', i. 2. 170 : " For once the eagle Kngland being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Cones sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs." 14. /\itgged. Rough. Kowe substituted " nigged," but S. elsewhere uses ragged where we should use nigged. C f. A', of I.. 892 : " Thy smooth- ing titles to a ragged name ;" Sonn. 6. I : " winter's ragged hand," etc. Steevens quotes Nash, Pierce /'enni/esse, 1593 : " his ragged verses." 16. S/,ii/:<>. The folio reading. M. thinks that the word is "spoiled on purpose in conUmpt for foreigners.'' 2v 'J'lie ene0niiter,v\.. The grinning of two monkeys at each other. Bartholomacus says of apes : "sonic be call ceiiof he; and be lyke to an houmle in the lace, and in the body lyke to an ape." Maplett, in his Green /v/r.*/, < k = to the same tune. 51. Diu'dame. A word on which the commentators have wasted much ink, without giving a satisfactory answer to the question of Amiens, "What's that ihtcdame?" It is probably mere nonsense coined tor the occasion. Hanmer substituted " dm ad ///, ii. I. 178. It sometimes meant only the dessert ; as in T. of S. \. 2. <) : "My banquet is to <.:'.. >^e mir -.tuuuuhs up Alter our ure.U ;;<>( nl cheer." \Vr. quotes Massinger, The I'mialnral Combat, iii. I : "We'll dine in the nr<-Mt '"' "" l'"t let die, music And banquet be |>re]).iied heie." L 1 62 NOTES. SCENE VI. I. For food. That is, for want of it. See on ii. 4. 70 above. 2. Jfeie He I dmun, etc. Steevens quotes R. andj. iii. 3. 70 : " And fall upon the found, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave." 5. Comfort. That is, comfort thyself; or it may be take comfort.be comforted. 6. Uncouth. Unknown, strange ; its original sense. Cf. A', of L. 1598 : "What uncouth ill event Hath thee befallen?" T. A. ii. 3. 211 : "I am surprised with an uncouth fear." S. uses the word only three times. Cf. Spenser, F Q. i. I. 15 : "as that uncouth light upon them shone;" Id, iii. 10. 34 : " many an uncouth way," etc. So Milton, P. L. ii. 406 : "And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way. 7. Thy conceit, etc. " You conceive yourself nearer to death and weaker than you are" (M.). Conceit often = conception, idea, thought, etc. \Vr. quotes here Ham. iii. 4. 1 14 : " Conceit (that is, fancy or imag- ination) in weakest bodies strongest works." 10. Presently. Immediately. Cf. Temp. iv. i. 42, v. I. 101, etc. Gr. 59- 12. Well said! "Well spoken and to the purpose " (Schmidt), lie congratulates himself that his words make Adam "look cheerly." Wr. explains it as = " Well done !" and compares I Hen. II'. \. 4. 75. . Thoit lookest cheerly. That is, cheerily, cheerfully. Cf. /'. of A. ii. 2. 223 : " Prithee, man, look cheerly !" etc. See also ii. 7. n below. SCENK VII. i. / think he />f. For the subjunctive, see Gr. 299. 3. But fZ'f/i now. lint just now. Cf. Temp. v. I. 232, etc. Gr. 38. 4. Hearing of. See on' ii. 4. 40. Gr. 178. 5. Coin fact of jars. All made up of discords. Cf. Af. N. D. v. I. 8 : "of imagination all compact," etc. Steevens quotes Tamburlane, 1590: "Compact of rapine, piracy, and spoil." 6. The spheres. An allusion to the Pythagorean doctrine of the music of the spheres. Cf. T. N. iii. i. 121, /)/. of I', v. i. 60, A. and C. v. 2. 84, etc. See also Milton, Hymn on A'ntivity, 125-132, eic. 13. Motley. The parti-coloured dress of the professional fool. The word is used as a noun ( = fool ) in Sonn. 1 10. 2, and in iii. 3. 69 below. A miserable world! "Where this is one's best amusement" (M). Warb. suggested "varlet" for world, 16. Kail' don. S. uses on or upon after rail oftener than at. Against is sometimes the preposition ; as in ii. 5. 57 and iii. 2.262 of the present play. Lady Fortune. Cf. IV. T. iv. 4. 51 : " () Lady Fortune !" Temp. i. 2. 178: "bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady," etc. See also on i. 2. 27- 19. Cii'l me net /<><>/, etc. An allusion to the old proverb. Fortitna favtt fatuis (Upton). Halliwell quotes Kay, I: 'it*. Proverbs : " Fortune favours fools, or fools have the best luck." Cf. 1J. J., Alchemist, prol. : " For- tune, that favours fooles," etc. ACT II. SCENE VII. ,63 20. A / ; o ; . This in the time of S. might mean either a watch or a portable sun-dial, and it is doubtful which is intended here. Cf. A. IV. ii. 5. 6 : " my dial goes not true," etc. J^ke pouch, pocket. \Ve still use the word in the proverb, "to buy a pig in a poke." Pocket is a diminutive of it. 26. Ripe. Kipen ; as in M. of I', ii. 8. 40: " the very riping of the time." Schmidt and Wr. make it a verb in Af. A'. D. ii. 2. 1 18 (" till now ripe not to reason"), where it seems to us very plainly an adjective. It is used transitively in A'. 'John, ii. i. 472 : " no sun to ripe the bloom ;" and in 2 Hen. IV. iv. 1. 13 : "to ripe his growing fortunes." 29. Moral. Moralize. Schmidt considers it " probably an adjective ;" as it is (=moralizing) in Lear, iv. 2. 58 : "a moral fool." 30. Creno. Cf. T. G. of V. ii. I. 28: " Von were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock." See also T. A', i. 5. 95. 31. Deep-contemplative. For compound adjectives in S. see Gr. 2. 32. Sans. Cf. 166 below. See also Temp. i. 2. 97, /,. /.. /,. v. I. 91, etc. It was much used by the writers of the time, and appears to have been viewed as an English word. Cotgravc (Fr. Diet.) translates sans by " sanse, without, besides ;" and Florio (Ilal. Diet.') gives " sanse " u.s an Knglish equivalent for senza. Intermission is here five syllables. 34 r/ie only wear. The only thing to wear, the only dress in fashion. Cf. IV. T. iv. 4. 327 : " Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a ;" M.for Af. iii. 2. 78: "it is not the wear," etc. Steevens quotes Donne, Satire iv. 86: " Your only wearing is your grogaram." 39. Dry, etc. Boswell quotes B. J., Every Afan Out of his Humour, ind. : " And now and tlien breaks a dry biscuit jest, Wlrcli. that it may more easily be chew'd, He steeps in his own laughter." 40. Strange places. Odd corners. \Vr. explains places as " topics or subjects of discourse," but this does not suit so well with cramnt'd. 44. Suit. For the play on the word cf. iv. i. 78 below. See also I Hen. IV. i. 2. 81. 48. As the li'ind. That "bloweth where it listeth " (John, iii. 8). Cf. T.andC. i. 3. 253 : " Speak frankly as the wind ;" Cor. i. 9. 89 : "as tree as is the wind ;" and Hen.V. i. 1.48: "T' '. air, a charter'd libertine." 52. As plain as ii'nr, etc. " When the spire is in full view " (M.). 53-57. He t/iat, etc. In the folio the passage reads thus : " Hee, that a Foo'e cloth very wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not, The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd Euen by the squandring glances of the foole." Theo. made 55 read " Not to seem," etc. ; and Coll., following the Coll. MS., " Hut to -cum," etc. The meaning is essentially the same, but the latter seems the more Shakespearian expression. The sense then is : lie whom a fool happens to hit well is very foolish unless he appears not to feel the rap; otheiwise. his folly is laid bare even by the random sallies of the fool. x64 NOTES. Whiter would retain the folio reading, pointing it thus : " Dolh, very foolishly although he smart, Seem senseless of the bob ;" that is, a wise man, " though he should be weak enough really to be hurt by so foolish an attack, appears always insensible of the stroke." But the inversion in "very foolishly although he smart" is awkward; and, besides, the imperfect measure indicates that something has been lost from the text. For another defence of the original reading, sec Dr. Ingleby's Mill Lion, p. 79 (or his Shakespeare Hermcneutics, p. Si) ; and for a good re- ply to the same, see the C. P. ed. of A. Y. /,. p. 116. Dr. I. admits that something seems to have dropped out of the text, and suggests that it may have read originally " If lie do not," etc. For senseless insensible, cf. Cyil>. i. i. 135 : "I am senseless of your wrath," etc. /M = rap, hit, is not found elsewhere in S.,but we have the verb ( = beat, drub) in Rich. HI. v. 3. 334 and T. and C. ii. I. 76. For vnatontize=\ay open, disclose, cf. i. I. 141 above. Squander is used by S. only here and in M. of V. \. 3. 22 : "other ventures he hath, squandered abroad;" that is, scattered abroad. In Ot/i. iii. 3. 151 ("his scattering and unsure observance") scattering \s used much like squandering here. 63. For a counter. "I bet a penny on it" (M.). A counter was "a round piece of metal used in calculations" (Schmidt). It is used con- temptuously for coins in J. C. iv. 3. 80 : "such rascal counters." 66. The brutish sthig. Animal passion. Cf. M.for M, i. 4. 59 : "The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; and Ol/i. i. 3. 335 : " our carnal stings, our unbilled lusts." 67. Embossed. Tumid ; as in Lear, ii. 4. 227 : " an embossed car- buncle." Headed grown to a head. In the only other instance of the verb in S. (M. for M. ii. I. 250: "it is but heading and hanging") it means to behead. 70. ll'hv, ">.'ho cries out, etc. " Chide as I will, why should I offend them? Who can say that I mean him? Jaqties appears either wilfully or through shallowness to miss the deep wisdom of the Duke's saying, and the whole character of his admonition. The Duke had not said that Jaques would offend people, but that he would corrupt them " (M.). 71. 7 great journey." 75. //"//, ///,//. Seeoni. 3. 4t. Gr. 287. 76. The cost of princes, etc. \\'i. quotes 2 lien. }'/. i. j. 83: "She bears a duke s revenues on her back." ACT II. SCENE VII. 165 77. Come in. " Intervene" (Schmidt) ; as in M. for ]\f. ii. i. 31. 79. Of l>a sest function. " Holding the meanest office" (\Vr.). 80. Bravery. Finery. Cf. /'. t>/ S. iv. 3. 57: "With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery." See also Spenser, Mother Hubberds Tale, 857 : " Which oft maintain'd his master's braverie " (that is, dressed as well as his master). Cf. also brave fine, beautiful ; as in Temp. i. 2. 6, 41 i, iii. 2. 104, iii.i 13, v. 183, 261, etc. On my cost. At my expense. lioth the Cam!), ed. and \Vr. misprint " of r.iy cost." Cf. Ifen. V. iv. 3. 25 : " doth feed upon my cost." 82. Mettle. Substance, purport. The early cds. make no distinction Ix-'tween metal and mettle. See Rich. 11. p. 157. 83. Hino then ? what then f " Let us understand one another thor- oughly '' (M.). 84. Do him right. Give him his due, do him justice ; as in M.for M. ii. 2. 103, Kick. II. ii. 3. 138, and many other passages. 85. Free. Innocent ; as in IV. T. i. 2. 251, Ham. ii. 2. 590, Oth. ii. 3. 343. etc - 88. Eat. S. uses both eat and eaten for the participle, and the former regularly (so far* as the early eds. show) for the past tense. See Gr. 343 and Rich. II. p. 204. 90. Of what kind, etc. Of what race, etc. On the double preposition, cf. 139 below. See also A. IV. i. 2. 29, T.and C. v. i. 63, Cor. ii. I. 18, etc. Gr. 407. 91. Baldened. Not a contraction of emboldened, as sometimes printed. Cf. If en. VI 11. i. 2. 55. Bold is used as a verb in the same sense in Lear, v. i. 26. 94. ////. Disposition, temper. At first refers of course to 91. 96. Inland bred. Brought up in the interior of the country, as op- posed to the less populous and less cultivated frontiers ; or " perhaps opposed to mountainous districts as the seats of savage barbarousness " (Schmidt). Cf. 2 //;/<; ,>y " To chyme, or knowlc, bells" (\Yr.). lialliwell cites Twyne's Discourse concerning Earthquakes, i5So: "the very shakinge caused the belles in some steeples to knoll a stroakc or twaine." 118. Enforcement. Cf. A. IV. \. 3. 107: "by what rough enforcement You got it," etc 120. True is it, etc. " A fine instance of epanadiplosis, each clause of Orlando's adjuration being repeated by the Duke with exquisite varia- tion " (M.). 125. Upon command. At your will or pleasure. 128. Whiles. Cf. v. 4. 5, 132 below ; also J/. N. D. iii. 2. 374, etc. Gr. 137. On like a doe, cf. F. and A. 875. 131. Sufficed. Satisfied. Cf. K.John, i. i. 191 : "when my knightly stomach is surfic'd," etc. 132. Weak evils. That is, causing weakness. Sec on ii. 3. 39 above. Gr. 4. Schmidt (p. 1416) makes it evils of weakness ; as " old wrinkles" (M. of I', i. i. So) = wrinkles of age, etc. 139. Wherein 'we play in. See on 90 above. All the world 's a s/agf. "Totus mundus agit histrionem" (probably taken from a fragment of Petronius, where it reads " quod fere totus mun- dus exerceat histrionem ") was the motto over the entrance to the Globe Theatre. The comparison is very common in writers of the time. Cf. Damon and Pythias, 1582 : " Pythagoras said, that this world was like a stage, Whereon many play their parts;" Churchyard, Farewell, 1593: "A borrowde roume where we our pag- eants play ;" Of Lena's Complaints, 1597 : " Whose life a sad continual tracedie. Himself the actor, in the world, the stage. While as the acts are measiir'd by his age." Sidney, Arcadia: "She found the world but a wearisome stage to her, where she played a part against her will," etc. lialliwell gives many similar passages. 143. Sfi'cn ages. The division of man's life into seven, ten, or more periods or " ages " was likewise common, and dates back to very ancient times. NVr. remarks: "A good deal of the literature of this subject has been collected by Mr. Winter Jones, in an interesting paper which he published in the Archteologica (xxxv. 167-189) on a block print of the 1 5th century which is in the British Museum. The so-called verses of Solon, ([noted by Philo, De opificio mnndi, arc there given, as well as the passage in which I'lato attributes to Hippocrates the division of man's life into seven periods. In the Mishna (. //'<>///, v. 24) fourteen periods are given, and a uoem upon the ten stages of lite was written by the great ACT n. SCENE VIT. 167 Hebrew commentator Ibn Ezra. The M 'it/rash on Ecclesiastes, 5. 2 goes back to the seven divisions. The Jewish literature is very fully given by IA>W in his treatise Die Lebfnsdlter in der Jiidisehen Lin-mtnr. Sir Thomas Browne devotes a chapter of his Vulgar Errors (iv. 12) to a con- sideration of the various divisions which have been proposed." See also Halliwell's folio ed. vol. vi. pp. 153 fol. As \V. remarks (see his Tale of the Forest of Arden, in the Galaxy for April, 1X75), all these stages of life are here described "in scoffing and disparaging terms ;" in tact, Jaqucs " seized the occasion to sneer at the representatives of the whole human race." See on ii. 1.41 above. 144. Mewling. Squalling. \Vr. quotes Cotgrave, />-. Diet.: " Miauler To mewle, or mew, like a cat." 145. Then. Pope, followed by some modern eels., has " And then," whicli may be what S. wrote. It not, Then is a dissyllable. Cf. Gr. 486. 146. Like snail. Halliwell quotes Browne : " ( )r with their hats (foi fish) lade in a brooke Withouten paine: but when ihe nuirne doth looke ( >ut ot the ea>terne gates, a snayle would faster Glide to the schooles, then they unto their master." 148. Sighing like furnace. Malone quotes Cynib. i. 6. 66: "He fur- naces The thick sighs from him." \Vr. adds L. L. L. iv. 3. 140 : "Saw sighs reek from you." 150. Full of strange oaths. Sir James Douglas, one day hearing the exclamation ' The devil !" pronounced with great emphasis in a cottage, immediately concluded "that some gallant knights or good men-at-arms were lurking there" (1'ict. Hist, of Eng. ii. 264, quoted by M.). Soldiers have always " sworn terribly," and not " in Flanders " alone. Cf. I/en. V. iii. 6. 78. Bearded like the pard " with long pointed mustaches, bristling like panther's or leopard's feelers" (\\'r.). 151. Sudden. Impetuous, passionate. Cf. Macb. iv. 3. 59 : "Sudden, malicious ;" Oth. ii. I. 279 : " rash and very sudden in choler," etc. 155. Beard of formal cut. Cf. Hen. V. iii. 6. So : " a beard of the gen- eral's cut ;" and see note in our ed. p. 168. 156. Wise saws, etc. Wise maxims and trite illustrations. For modern = commonplace, trivial, cf. AIacl>. iv. 3. 170 : " a modern ecstasy ;" A. l\ f . ii. 3. 2 : "modern and familiar," etc. See also iv. i. 6 below. Schmidt recognizes no other meaning of the word in S. Instances he makes here = sa?i>s ; as in Much Ado, v. 2. 78 : " an old instance," etc. 158. Pantaloon. As Wr. remarks, the word and character were bor- rowed from the Italian stage. Todd, in his edition of Johnson's Diction an 1 , quotes from Addison's Remarks on Several J'tfts of Italy an account of the plays in Venice : " There are four standing cnaracters which enter into every piece that comes on the stage : the Doctor, Harlequin, Fantn- lone, and Ctn'iello . . . Pantalonc is generally an old Cully, aiui Cor'iello a Sharper." Torriano (Italian Diet., 1659) gives " 1'antalone, a 1'antalone, a covetous and yet amorous old dotard, properly applyed in Comedies unto a Vcne'ian." Capell yuotcs from The Travels of three English 1 68 NOTES. Krothfrs, 1607, a dialogue between an Italian Harlequin and Kemp the actor : "//// the Laws of England, iv. 80: "Upon all debts of record due to the Crown, the sovereign h:\s his peculiar remedy by writ of extent ; which differs in this respect from an ordinary writ of execution at suit of the subject, that under it the body, lands, and goods of the debtor may be all taken at once, in order to compel the payment of the debt. And this proceeding is called an extent, from the words of the writ ; which directs the sheriff to cause the lands, goods, and chattels to be appraised at their full, or extended, value (extendi facias), before they are delivered to satisfy the debt." 1 8. Expediently. Expeditions]}', quickly. So expedient expeditious ; as in A'. John, ii. I. 60 and Rich. II. i. 4. 39. Turn him gving=send him packing ; as in J. C. iii. 3. 38. SCKNE II. 2. Thrice-crmvned. Cf. J/. A'. D. v. I. 391 : " By the triple Hecate's team ;" Virgil, ^/-.'//. iv. 511 : "Tergeminamqne Hecatcn, tria virginis ora Dianae ;" and Horace, Od. iii. 22. 4 : "Diva triformis :" Johnson quotes the memorial lines : " Terret, lustrat. a'^it, Proserpina. I.iina, Diana, Ima, superna, feras, sceptro, Hilgore, sagittis." Sr. quotes from Chapman's Hymnits in Cynthiam a passage which may have been in Shakespeare's mind : "Nature's bright eye-sight, and the night's fair soul, That with tiiy triple forehead dost control tartli, sea.-., and hell." 170 NOTES. 4. My full life doth sway. Cf. T. N. ii. 5. 1 18 : " doth sway my life." 6. Character. \Vrite, inscribe. Cf. Sonn. 108. I, K. of L. 807, T, G. vf V. ii. 7. 4, etc. S. accents the verb either on the first or second sylla- ble ; the noun on the first, except in Rich. III. iii. i. 81. 7. That. So that. Gr. 283. IO. Unexprcssive. Inexpressible. Cf. Miltori, Lycidas, 176 : " the un- expressive nuptial song;" Hymn on A'atn: 116: "With (inexpressive notes." Cf. also /'j/////vjj/Tr = not to be suppressed (J. C. ii. i. 134), uncomprehensh'c = unknown (T. and C. iii. 3. 198), />/<://.(/< v = plausible, specious (A. IV. i. 2. 53), respective respectable (T. G. of V. iv. 4. 200), etc. See (Jr. 3. For jfo = woman, cf. T. N. i. 5. 259 : "the cruellest she alive ;" Hen. V. ii. i. 83 : "the only she ;" Cymb. \. 6. 40: "two such shes," etc. See also he in 366 below. Gr. 224. 15. Naught. Had. See on i. i. 32 above. 16. Private. Lonely, solitary. Cf. Hen. VIII. ii. 2. 15 : "I left him private," etc. 20. Hast. Cf. 30 below : " Wast ever in court ?" Gr. 401. 28. Of good breeding. See on ii. 3. 12 above. 35. All on one side. It would seem obvious enough that these words are explanatory of ill-roasted, but Steevens connected them with damned. 39. Good manners. "A play upon words, manners being used for morals as well as for habits or deportment" (Halliwell). V. remarks that morals is not found in the old dictionaries and authors. 41. Parlous. A vulgar corruption of perilous. Cf. M. A r . D. iii. I. 14 : "a parlous fear," etc. Gr. 461. 46. But you kiss. Without kissing. Gr. 125. 48. Instance. Proof. Cf. Much Ado, ii. 2. 42 : "They will scarcely be- lieve this without trial : offer them instances," etc. 49. Still. Continually. Gr. 69. 50. Fells. Fleeces. Cf. Macb. v. 5. 1 1 : " my fell of hair ;" Lear, v. 3. 24 : " flesh and fell," etc. 52. A mutton. A sheep. Cf. 71 G. of I*, i. i. 101 : "a lost mutton;" M. of r. i. 3. 168 : " flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats," etc. 56. Afore sounder. Cf. " more worthier " (iii. 3. 53 below), " more elder " (M. of V. iv. I. 251), " more better " ( Temp. i. 2. 19), etc. Gr. 1 1. 60. Worms' 1 -meat. Wr. suggests that this expression may have struck S. in a book which he evidently read, the treatise of Vincentio Saviolo (see on v. 4. 86), in which a printer's device is found with the motto," O wormes meate : O froath : () vanitie : why art thou so insolent." 62. Perpend. Ponder, consider ; "a word used only by Pistol, Polo- nius, and the clowns" (Schmidt). Cf. M. IV. ii. i. 119, I/am. ii. 2. 105, etc. 66. God make incision in thee ! Schmidt explains this, "God cure thee !" Heath says: "I apprehend the meaning is, ' God give thee a better understanding, thou art very raw and simple as yet.' The ex- pression probably alludes to the common proverbial saying concerning a very sillv fellow, that he ought to be cut for the simples." The refer- ence is to bleeding as a method of cure. Cf. L L. I., iv. 3. 97. ACT III. SCENE If. 171 On r<7W=green, inexperienced, cf. M. of I', iii. 4. 77, Rich. II. ii. 3. 42, etc. 68. Chvf no man hate. Halliwell quotes Romans, xiii. 8: "Owe no man anything, but to love one another." 69. Content with my harm. " Patient in tribulation." 75. Scapf. Not a contraction of escape. Cf. Bacon, Adv. of L. ii. 14. 9 : " had scaped shipwreck," etc. Sec \Vb. s. v. 78. /fiM/. Kastern. Ind is printed " Inde " in the folio, and the vowel is doubtless meant to be long ; as in L. L. L. iv. 3. 222, where the word rhymes with blind. 82. I.ind. Delineated, drawn. Capcll changed it to " limn'd." 85. Fair. Beauty ; as often. Cf. Sonn. 16. 1 1 : " Neither in inward worth nor outward fair," etc. 1'ope substituted " face " here ; and Walker would change /<~/. iii. 6. 23 : " Ho! who 's hete? If anything that 's civil, speak; if savage, Take or lend," etc. I2O. Erring. Errant, wandering. Cf. Ot/i. i. 3. 362 : " an erring bar- barian " ( = " extravagant and wheeling stranger " in Id. i. i. 137 ) ; Ham. i. I. 154: "The extravagant and erring spirit,'' etc. 122. Buckles in. Girds in, includes. Cf. Macl>. v. 2. 15 and T. and C. ii. 2. 30. 126. Sentence end. The possessive inflection was often omitted in dis- syllables ending with a sibilant (Gr. 217), and sometimes before sake , as in 240 below. 129. Quintessence. The fifth or highest essence of the alchemists ; and hence, figuratively, the concentrated virtue of anything. S. uses the word only here and in Ham. ii. 2. 321. 130. /// little. In miniature. Cf. L. C. 90 : " in little drawn," etc. 133. IVide-enlargd. "Spread through the world" (Schmidt). CC Temp. iii. i. 46 : "but yon, () you, So perfect and so peerlesr. are created Of every creature's best!" 135. Helen's cheek. Cf. Sonn. 53. 7: "On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set." 137. Atlanta's better part. What this means has been much disputed. Johnson remarks that the better part of the mythological Atalanta "seems to have been her heels," and thinks that S. had some other character in mind. Toilet suggests that it \vas " her beauty and graceful elegance of shape;" Farmer, "her wit, that is, the swiftness of her mind;" Steevens, "the best part about her, such as was most com- mended." Winter remarks on the passage: "The imagery selected to discrim- inate the perfections of Helen, Cleopatra, Atalanta, and Lucretia was not derived from the abstract consideration of their general qualities; but was caught from those peculiar traits of beauty and character which are impressed on the mind of him who contemplates their portraits. It is well known that these celebrated heroines of romance were, in the days of our Poet, the favourite subjects of popular representation, and were alike visible in the coarse hangings of the poor and the magnificent arras of the rich. In the portraits of Helen, whether they were produced by the ACT III. SCEXE II. 173 skilful artist or his ruder imitator, though her face would certainly be de- lineated as eminently beautiful, yet she appears not to have been adorned with any of those charms which are allied to modesty ; and we accord- ingly find that she was generally depicted with a loose and insidious countenance, which but too manifestly betrayed the inward wantonness and perfidy of her heart. With respect to the 'majesty' of Cleopatra, it may be observed that this notion is not derived from classical authority, but from the more popular storehouse ot legend and romance. I infer, therefore, that the familiarity of the image was impressed, both on the Poet and his reader, from pictures or representations in tapestry, which were the lively and faithful mirrors of popular romances. Atalanta, we know, was considered by our ancient poets as a celebrated beauty ; and we may be assured, therefore, that her portraits were everywhere to be found. Since the story of Atalanta represents that heroine as possessed of singular beauty, zealous to preserve her virginity even with the death of her lovers, and accomplishing her purposes by extraordinary swiftness in running, we may be assured that the skill of the artist would be em- ployed in displaying the most perfect expressions of virgin purity, and in delineating the fine proportions and elegant symmetry of her person. J.ucretia (we know) was the grand example of conjugal fidelity through- out the C.othic ages ; and it is this spirit of unshaken chastity which is here celebrated under the title of 'modesty.' " Such, then, are the wishes of the lover in the formation of his mis- tress that the ripe and brilliant beauties of Helen should be united to t'.ie elegant symmetry and virgin graces of Atalanta ; and that this union of charms should be still dignified and ennobled by the majestic mie/i of Cleopatra, and the matron modesty of Lucretia." 140. Heavenly synod. S. has s\niod in six passages, and in all but one it refers to an assembly of the gods. See Cor. \. 2. 74, Ham. ii. 2. 516, A. and C. iii. 10. 5, and Cymh. v. 4. 89. 142. 7\>nJit'S. Traits, features. Cf. v. 4. 27 below. 144. And /to lire. See Gr. 216 and 416, and cf. v. 4. 22 below. 145. Jupiter. The folio reading. Spedding suggested " piilpiter," which is plausible. I), and the Cam!), ed. adopt it. Rut S. does not use the word elsewhere, nor pulpit (-rostra) except in J. C. Cf. Rosa- lind's "O Jupiter!" in ii. 4. i. 151. Scrip. The shepherd's pouch. Cf. I Sam.\\\\. 40, etc. S. has the word only here and in A/. J\ T . D. i. 2. 3. where it means list. 158. 77ie feet were lame. Cf. Per. iv. prol. 48 : "the lame feet of my rhyme." 162. Should. According to Abbott (dr. 328), used to denote a state- ment not made by the speaker ; but it may possibly depend on ~iugge>ts that S. \\rote "plane-tree !" i?4 165. Pythagoras' time. M. remarks that " Ihe opinions of this phi- losopher are wittily explained in T. N. (iv. 2. 54-60), and forcibly in /)/. 0/F. (iv. i. 131)." 166. An Irish rat. Cf. B. ]., Poetaster : " Rhyme them to death, as they do Irish rats, In drumming tunes ;" Sidney, Defence of Pocsie : "Though I will not wish vnto you, the Asses eares of Midas, nor to bee driuen by a Poets verses, (as Bubonax was) to hang himselfe, nor to be rimed to death, as is sayd to be doone in Ire- land, yet thus much curse I must send you." In Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft, the power of magic incantations is said to be claimed by the Irish witclus: "The Irishmen addict themselves wonderfully to the credit and practice hereof; insomuch as they affirm, that not only their children, but their cattel, are (as they call it) eye-bitten, when they tall suddenly sick, and tearm one sort of their Witches eye-biters ; only in that respect : yea and they will not stick to affirm, that they can rime either man or beast to death." Randolph, in The Jealous Lovers, v. 2, has a reference to the same belief: " If he provoke my spleen, I Ml have him know 1 soldiers teed shall mince him, and my poets Sliall with a satire, steep'd in gall and vinegar, Rhyme 'em to death, as they do rats in Ireland." Cf. Pope's version of Donne's Second Satire, 22 : "One sings the fair: but songs no lunger move; No rat is rhymed to death, nor maid to love." Wr. adds that the supposed effect of music upon these animals will be present to the recollection of every one who has read Browning's Pied Piper of f/iimeliii. On that, see Gr. 284 ; and on which, Gr. 271. 167. Trine you. Know you. Cf. T. of 8. i. 2. 165 : " Trow you whither I am going ?" etc. 169. And (i chain, etc. Cf. i. 2. 229. On ami, \Vr. remarks: "This irregular and elliptical construction, in which and does yeoman's service for many words, may he illustrated by Cor. i. i. 82 : 'Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain ;' and Cvnib. v. 4. 179: ' But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer.'" 172. for friends, etc. Halli well quotes Ray, Eng. Proverbs: "Friends may meet, but mountains never greet ; nions cum monte non miscebitiir ; fares cum paribns ; two haughty persons will seldom agree together ;" Three Lcrdes of London, 1590: " I '11 tell thec why we meet ; because we are no mountains;" and I.vlv's Mother />'<>;//// t/W'j' making? Or his tailor's? Cf. Lear, ii. 2. 59: "You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made thee ;" and Stephens, Essaves and Characters,^, 1615: ."Her body is (I pre- sume) of God's making & yet I cannot tell, for many pai is thereof she made her selte" (\Vr.). 195. Let me stay, etc. Tell me who he is, and I '11 wait for the growth of his beard. For j/V/j = wait for, cf. 7'. G. of I '. ii. 2. 13, Rich. II. i. 3. 4, Miiel>. iv. 3. 142, etc. 199. S/>taA sail />;<>?.', etc. Speak seriously, as you arc a true maid. Cf. Mneh Ai/o, i. I. 185 : "Speak you this with a sad brow?" (see also AI. A'. D. p. 175) ; and for the construction, //<'/.> he as freshly. Sue on i. 2. I ^7 and ii. (>. 12 above. 217. Atomies. Atoms, motes. Ct. A'. i"/,i '7. i. 4. 57 and 2 I leu. //". v. 4. 33. \Vr. <[uotes Cockerain (f"'.iii, r . f>i,f.}. who defines "atomy" as "A mote flying in the Sunnc-beames." <..'(. Milton, // /V;/j. 7: "As tl.ii k ami i.unilHTl.-ss As tlio K''y nu.ics ilial | coplc llic siinbcanii." 176 NOTES. Resolve solve, answer ; as in 3 Hen. VI. iv. I. 135, etc. 219. Ofrserr-aiiee. Observation, attention. Cf. Oth. iii. 3. 151 : "scat- tering and unsure observance," etc. 221. Jcn-e's tree. Cf. 3 Hen. VI. v. 2. 14: "Jove's spreading tree." The oak was sacred to Jupiter. \Vr. quotes Virgil, Ceor. iii. 332 : " Sicubi iiu-ii.i Jovis antique robore queicus Iiigcutcs tend. u ranios." 225. Stretched along. See on ii. i. 30 above. 228. The ground. The background of the pictuie, as Caldecott ex- plains it ; though it may have its ordinary meaning. 229. Holla. Used in checking horses. Cf. V. and A. 284: " What rccketh he his rider' .i angry stir, His flattering ' Holla,' or h s Stand, 1 say:' " On cnii-ets, cf. I', and A. 279: "rears upright, curvets, and leaps." \Ve have the noun, accented on the last syllable, in A. IV. ii. 3. 299 : " the Dound and high curvet Of Mars's fiery steed." Modern authorities are divided on the accent of both verb and noun. Sec \Vorc. 230. I-'urnished. Dressed, equipped. Cf. epil. 8 below ; also i //<;/. IV. v. 3. 21 : " furnish'd like the king," etc. 231. I/cart. There is a play on the word ; as in T. A r . iv. 1.63, J. C. iii. I. 208, /'. and A. 502, etc. 233. K r ingest me out. Put me out ; as in 236 below. Cf. I.. L. L. v. 2. 171 : "that brings me out." 237. By. Aside. So " walk by " step aside, in Oth. v. 2. 30 ; " stand by " stand aside, stand back, in Much Ado. iv. I. 24, T. of S. i. 2. 143, etc. 239. Had us liet /tare been. Cf. Mitch Ado, ii. 3. 84, and see on i. i. 133 above. Myself alone ty myself; an expression, as we are told, still used in Scotland. 240. I-'ashion sake. See on 126 above. 242. Cod l>e 7i'/' you. " (Joel buy you " in the folio ; as in iv. I. 28 and v. 3. 38 below, and many other passages. Some suppose our good-bye to be the same phrase. See \Vb. 246. Moe. More ; the folio reading here as in forty or more other passages, though we find "more"' in 244 just above. The form is re- quired by the rhyme in A', of L. 1479 and Mitch Ado, ii. 3. 72. As \Vr. notes, moe appears to be used only with the plural. In the one apparent exception in the folio (Temp, v. I. 234: "mo cliversitic of sounds") the expression is virtually a plural. 249. Just. Just so ; as in M. for M. iii. i. 68, J///r// Ado, ii. i. 29, v. I. 164, Hen. I', iii. 7. 158, etc. 256. Conned. Learned by heart ; as in .17. X. D. i. 2. 102, Hen. I', iii. 6. 79, etc. 2^7. Out of rings. Alluding to the "posies" or mottoes inscribed on rings. Sue Mer. p. 164. 258. / an.^i'er von right pointed eloth. For the construction, sec on 199 above. Painted eloth alludes to the tapestry hangings for rooms, which were ornamented with figures and mottoes. Cf. K. cf L. 24=;, /,. /,. /.. v. 2. 579, i lien. II'. iv. 2. 28, and 'I', and C. v. 10. 47. Steevens quotes Randolph, The Muse's l.ookiii^-xliiss, iii. I : ACT III. SCENE II. 177 "Then for the painting, I bethink myself '1 li.it 1 have seen in Mother Redcap's hall, In painted cloth, the story of the Prodigal." llalliwcll adds from No Whipping HOT Tripping, 1601 : " Read what is written on the painted cloth : Do no man wrong; be good iinio the poor ; Beare the mouse, the maggot and the moth, And ever have an eye unto the door," etc. 263. No breather. Cf. Sonii. Si. 12 : " all the breathers of this world ;" and A. and C. iii. 3. 24 : "a body rather than a life, A statue than a breath- er." Halliwell refers to i Cor. xi. 28, and quotes Law's remark that " every man knows something worse of himself than he is sure of with respect to others." 268. By my troth. See on i. 2. 79 above. 286. Sighing every minute, etc. Cf. Rich. II. v. 5. 50-58. 291. Who. See 6r. 274. 297. A se'nnight. A week. Q.L fortnight = fourteen nights. 298. Year. Cf. Sonn. II. 8: "threescore year;" Temp, i. 2. 53: "Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since," etc. See Run. II. p. 182, note on A thousand pound. 315. fringe. Fairholt, in his Costumes, gives representations of petti- coat fringes from portraits of the Elizabethan age. 316. Native. Cf. Ham. i. 4. 14 and iv. 7. 180. S. has natwe as a noun (=source) only in Cor. iii. I. 129 : " the native of our so frank donation ;" where some critics would read "motive." 317. Cony. Rabbit. Cf. V. and A. 687 and Cor. iv. 5. 226. Kindled = littered, born ; still used of hares and rabbits in some provincial dialects. Halliwell quotes Palsgrave, 1530: "A konny kyndylleth every moneth in the ^ere." 320. Purchase. Get, acquire. Cf. Mer. ii. 9. 43: "purchased by the merit of the wearer ;" Rich. II. i. 3. 282 : " I sent thee forth to purchase honour," etc. Removed retired. Cf. W. T. v. 2. 1 16 : " that removed house ;" M.for M. i. 3. 8 : " the life removed," etc. See also Milton, II Pens. 78 : "Some still removed place." 321. Of. By. Cf. i. I. 103, 150, etc. Gr. 170. 322. Religions. That is, a monk or hermit. Cf. v. 4. 155, 176 below. So in Rich. II. v. i. 23, "religious house'' = convent. 323. Courtship. Court life ; with .1 play on the other sense. Cf. A'. and J. iii. 3. 34. 327. Taxed. Charged. See on i. 2. 75 above. 339. Fancy-monger. Love-monger. See (.m fantasy, ii. 4. 27 above. 340. Quotidian. A fever with daily paroxysms. Cf. Lyly's Euphues: "if euer she ha tie ben taken with the feuer of fancie, she will help his ague, who by a quotidian fit is conuerted into phrcnsie." See also lien. T. ii. i. 124 : " lie is so shakcd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold.'' 343. There is none. Sec Gr. 335. 344. Cage cf rushes. That is, weak bondage. M I7 8 AOTES. 347- 4 Mi" tyt. Cf. K. of L. 1587 : " And round about her tear-distained eye. ISlue circles stream' d, like rainbows in the sky." So in "blue-eyed hag," in Temp. i. 2. 270. 348. Unquestionable. Disinclined to question or conversation. Cf. questionable in //<;/. i. 4. 43. For question talk, conversation, see iii. 4, 32 and v. 4. 156 below. 350. Simply. Indeed, absolutely. Cf. M. A'. D. iv. 2. 9 : " he hath sim- ply the l>est wit of any handicraft man in Athens ;" Hen. V. iii. 7. 105 : " lie is simply the most active gentleman of France," etc. Having- property, possession. Cf. A/.IV. iii. 2. 73 : "the gentleman is of no having ;" Cvmb. i. 2. 19 : " he added to your having," etc. 352. Ungartereti. Cf. T. G. ofV. ii. i. 79 and Ham. ii. I. 80. Bonnet = \\nt; as elsewhere in S. Cf. /'. and A. 339: ''his bonnet" (called "his hat" in 351 just below), etc. Stubbes (Anatomie of Abuses, 1583, quoted by N\'r.), describing the various fashions in hats of his time, says, " An other sort have round crownes, sometimes with one kindc of bande, sometime with an other ; nowe blackc, now white, now russet, now red, now greene, now ycllowe, now this, nowe that, never con- tent with one colour or fashion two dayes to an ende." He also men- tions with great scorn a fashion which had come in from France of wearing hats without bands. Cf. B. J., Every A fan Out of his Humour, iv. 4: " I had on a gold cable hatband, then new come up, which I wore about a murrey French hat I had." For an illustration of the whole pas- sage see I Icy wood's Fair Maid of the Exchange : " No by my troth, if every tale of love, Or love it selfe, or foole-bewitching beauty. Make me crosse-rirme my selfe; study ny-mees; Defie my hat-band ; tread beneath my feet Shoo-strings and garters ; practise in my glasse l)istressed lookes, and drv my liver up. With sighes enough to win an argosie." 355. Point-device. "Up to the best mark devisable" (M.), affectedly nice. Cf. L. L. I., v. 1.21 and T. N. ii. 5. 176. 362. In good sootk. In very truth. See Aler. p. 127 or AI. N. D. p. 153. 366. He. See on 10 above. 372. A dark house, etc. The usual treatment of lunatics until a very recent date. Dr. Brown, a high medical authority of seventy years ago, seiiously maintained that "the patient ought to be struck with fear and terror, and driven in his state of insanity to despair ; as a remedy against over muscular excitement the labour of draught cattle should be imposed on him ; the diet should be the poorest possible, and his drink only wa- ter." Cf. T. N. iii. 4. 148, v. I. 350, C. of K. iv. 4. 97, etc. 379. Aloonish. Changeable, variable ; or possibly, as Halliwell sug- gests, foolish, weak. B. J. uses moonlingm. the sense ot fool. 386. Drave. Cf. T. and C. iii. 3. 190, A', and jf. i. I. 127, etc. S. also uses drm-e for the past tense (M. II'. v. 5. 131, etc.), and driven and drovc-n (A. atid C. iv. 7. 5) tor the participle. 387. Living. Real, as opposed to mad. Cf. Olh. iii. 3. 409 : "a living reason." ACT III. SCENE III. 179 389. Merely. Absolutely. Cf. Temp. i. I. 59 : " we are merely chea'cd of our lives," etc. See J. C. p. 129, note on Merely upon myself. 390. Liver. Considered the seat of love. Cf. Temp. iv. i. 56, Much Ado, iv. i. 233, etc. See also liver-vein in L. L. L. iv. 3. 74, The simile, as Steevens remarks, is in keeping with Rosalind's assumed character of a shepherd. SCENE III. i. Audrey. A contraction of EthelJreda. The word tawdry is said to be a corruption of Saint Audrey. See \V!>. 3. Feature. Shape, personal appearance (Schmidt). Cf. Sunn. 113. 12, Temp. iii. I. 52, etc. It may here be "facture" (or making in the early Knglish sense of composition, verses), as Mr.W.Wilkins explains it. 5. Goats. There is a play on this word and Got/is, which seems to have had the same pronunciation. So, as \V. has shown, with moth and mote, nothing and noting, etc. Caldecott remarks that in our early print- ing Goths and Gothic were spelt Gotcs and Gottishe. He quotes Thomas, Jlist.of Italye, 1561 : "against the gotes" (that is, Goths). Capricioin is apparently used here on account of its derivation (Latin caper, goat). 7. Ill-inhabited. Ill-housed. See dr. 294. For the allusion to the story of Philemon and Baucis, cf. Much Ado, ii. I. 99. II. A great reckoning, etc. A large bill for a small company or a mean entertainment. J. II. explains it, "an extensive reckoning to be written out in very small space." 1 8. Mav be said. M. Mason wished to read "it may be said ;" but it is more likely a "confusion of construction " (cf. Gr. 415) for "may be said to be feigned/' 22. lloiu-st. See on i. 2. 34 above. 25. Hard-ftwoured. Ill-favoured (cf. i. 2. 35 above), ugly. Cf. V. ana A. 133 : " Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old ;" ///. /'. ii. i. 9, etc. Gr. 64. 46. Necessary. Unavoidable ; as in J. C. ii. 2. 36, etc. 50. Arc horns given, etc. The emendation of the Coll. MS. for the folio reading : "homes, euen so poore men alone : No, no," etc. Theo. pointed it thus: "Horns? even so: poor men alone?" D. reads: " Horns? ever to poor men alone?" Sundry other changes have been proposed. 51. l\ascal. A lean or worthless deer. Puttenham, in his English Pocsic, says: "raskall is properly the hunter's terme given to young decre, leane and out of season." Cf. Palsgrave : " Kascall, refuse beest, ; t'/its ;" Ouarles, I'irgnt lt'ii/<>7i> : "And have known a rascal from a fat deer;" Lovelace, I.ucasta : " Passe rascall (leave, strike me the largest doe," etc. For a play on the word, see Cor. i. II. 63, 2 lien. II', ii. 4. 45, v. 4. 34, etc. l8o NOTES. 53. Afore wort/tier. See on iii. 2. 56 above. 55. By lunu much, etc. See on v. 2. 41 below. 57. Sir. "The style of a priest, answering to dominiis" (Halliwall). 61. On gift of any man. The idea seems to be that what is given away is not worth having. 66. God 'ield you. God yield you, reward you. See Macb. p. 175, and cf. v. 4. 53 below. The full form (" the gods yield you for 't !") occurs in A. and C. iv. 2. 33. 70. Bow. The English editors explain ox-bow as a provincialism, but it is in common use in New Kngland. Cf. /f// = thill (Afer. p. 139). 71. falcon. The female bird (see Schmidt or Wb.), the male bird be- ing called tercel or tassel (cf. T. and C. iii. 2. 56 and A', and J. ii. 2. 160). Falcon is masculine in A", of L. 506, but this is because it is applied meta- phorically to Tarquin. On the bells, cf. A', of L. 511 and 3 Hen. VJ. \. 1.47. 79. But I were better. That it were not better for me. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. i. 2. 245, T. N. i. 2. 27, etc. The construction was originally Impersonal ( = to me it were better), like if I please, etc. See on i. i. 85 above, or Or. 230, 352. 86. O sweet Oliver. A quotation from a ballad of the time. Steevens says : " In the books of the Stationers' Company, Aug. 6, 1584, was en- tered, by Richard Jones, the ballad of ' O swcte Olyuer Leaue me not behind the.' Again [Aug. 20! , I he answearc of O swecte Olyuer.' Again, in 1586 [Aug. i], 'O sweete Olyver altered to ye scriptmes.' " 90. Wind. Steevens notes that 7tvW=wend in Casar and Pompcy, 1607: " Wincle we then, Anthony, with this royal queen," etc. It may be =turn, as in J. C. iv. i. 32, etc. 94. Fiout. Mock, jeer; as in i. 2.41 above, etc. For calling, see on i. 2. 216 above. SCENK IV. 8. Than Jiuhiis. It was a current opinion that Judas had red hair and beard, and he was commonly so represented in the paintings and tapestries of the time. Cf. Mansion, Insatiate Countess, 1613 : " I ever thought by his red beard he would prove a Judas ;" Mid- dletun, Chaste Maid in Cheapside, 1620: "Sure that was Judas with the red beard," etc. II. Your chestnut. A common colloquial use of your. Cf. v. 4. 59 be- low ; also M. N. D. i. 2. 95, iii. i. 33, iv. i. 36, etc. Ci. 221. 14. Holy bread. Sacramental bread. Warb. wished to read "beard ;" that is, "the kiss of an holy saint or hermit !" 15. Cast. Cast off, discarded. C't'. Hen. I '. iv. I. 23 : " casted slough ;" Hen. I'fll. \. 3. 48: "your colt's tooth is not cast yet," etc. The later folios read "chast." For the allusion to Diana, cf. Muck Ado, iv. I. 58, T. of A. iv. 3. 387, Cor. v. 3. 65, etc. ACT III. SCENE V. jgi 16. Winter's sisterhood. That is, "an unfruitful sisterhood" (Warb.). Cf. M. N. D. i. I. 72 : "To live a barren sister all your life, Chaining faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon." Theo. would read " Winifred's sisterhood." 22. Pitk-pttrse. Pickpocket; as in M. /F. i. i. 163, L. L. L. iv. 3. 208, etc. 23. Verity. Faith, honesty; as in Macb. iv. 3. 92: "justice, verity, temperance." 24. A covered goblet. Wr. says : " which having a convex top is more hollow than a goblet without a cover ;" but perhaps better, as M. gives it, because the cover is on only when the cup is empty. 29. The word of a tapster. Who would cheat in his reckoning. Cf. L.L.L. i. 2. 42 : " I am ill at reckoning ; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster ;" T. and C. i. 2. 123 : "a tapster's arithmetic," etc. 32. Question. Talk, conversation. Ct. v. 4. 156 below; also \V. T. iv. 2. 55, etc. See on iii. 2. 348 above. 35. What. For what, why. Cf. J. C. ii. I. 123 : " What need we any spin," etc. Gr. 253. 37. A brave man! A fine fellow ! Cf. for the irony Temp. iii. 2. 12 : " lie were a brave monster indeed," eic. See on bravery, ii. 7. So above. 39. Traverse. Crosswise; that is, clumsily. It was thought disgrace- ful to break a lance across the body of an adversary, and not by a direct thrust. Ct. Much Ado, v. I. 139 : " give him another staff: this last was broke cross." Halliwell quotes Northward Hoe, 1607: "like a tilter that had broke his staves foul before his mistress." Lovc-r is feminine, as in T. G.ofl'. i. i. 116, Cytnb. \. 5. 172, etc. 40. Puisny. Puny (which is the same word), inferior. 41. A noble goose. The adjective is obviously ironical; but Ilanmer wished to read "a nose-quill'd goose" (a term in falconry), and Fanner approved the change. 44. Of loi'e. That is, of the want of it (Schmidt). See on ii. 3. 12 above, and cf. iii. 2. 28. 45. Who. For who following that, see Gr, 260; and for the form, Gr. 274. The later folios have " Whom." 48. Pageant. Cf. M. N. !*>, iii. 2. 114 : " Shall we their fond pageant see ?" 49. Pale complexion. Perhaps alluding to the popular belief that the heart lost a drop of blood with every sigh. Cf. /!/. /V'. D. iii. 2. 96 : " All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear;" and see note in our ed. p. 165. S4. See. Not in the folio, but inserted by P. Pope read, " I'ring us but to this sight ;" Capell, "Come, bring ;" Malone, " Uring us unto," etc. SCK.NE V. 5. Falls. For the transitive use cf. Tevip. ii. i. 2()f>, v. t. 64, J. C. iv. 2. 26 (see note in our ed. p. 160), etc. Gr. 291. 6. />'/// first begs. Without first begging. Sec on iii. 2. 46 above, (jr. 1 20. 182 NOTES. 7. Dies and lives. Lives and dies, gets his whole livelihood. Mr. Arrow-smith (Notes and Queries, i series, vii. 542) compares Komannt of the A'osf, 5790 : " With sorrow they both die and live That unto nchcsse lier hertes geve ;" and Barclay, Ship of Fooles, 1570 : " He is a foole. and so shall he dye and Hue, That ihinkeih him wise, and yet can he nothing." Dr. Ingleby (Shakespeare ffermeneutics, p. 59) admits that to die and live was sometimes to live and die, but maintains that to die and live by a thing meant " to make that thing a matter of life and death." He adds : " The profession or calling of a man is that by which he dies and lives ; i. e. by which he lives, and failing which he dies." The Camb. ed. records nine "emendations" of the passage, but none is needed. 11. Sure. Surely. Cf. Temp. i. 2. 388, ii. I. 315, etc. 12. fa-air st. This contraction of superlatives is common in S. Cf. " civil'st " (2 lien. VI. iv. 7. 66), " kind'st (Macl>. ii. I. 24), " stern'st " (/us\l. Deceived. Cf. Much Ado, v. 2. ico : ''Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused," etc. 80. Dead shepherd, etc. See introduction, p. 10 above. Marlowe was killed in a quarrel in 1593. For saw, cf. ii. 7. 156 above. Of might-- forcibly true. 88. Extermined. Used by S. only here. Its equivalent exterminate he floes not use at all. 89. Possibly, as Halliwell suggests, I hi/re is an allusion to the Scrip- tural injunction, " thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself." 93. Since that. See on i. 3. 41 above. Gr. 287. 94. Irksome. See on ii. I. 22 above. or. Grace. Kither favour, regard \as in Much Ada, ii. 3. 31, L. L. L. ii. I 1 84 NOTES. 60, etc.), or fortune, happiness (as in M.for M. \. 4. 69, M.N.D. ii. 2. 89, etc.). 102. Loose. I,et fall. Cf. Ruth, ii. 16. 104. Ercivhile. See on ii. 4. 84 above. 1 06. Bounds. See on ii. 4. 78 above. 107. Car/of. Peasant ; from curl (see Cymb. v. 2. 4), which has the same meaning. 109. Peevish. Silly. See Hen. V. p. 171. 112. // is. See on i. i. 129 above. 1 20. Lusty. Lively, fresh. Cf. Sonn. 5. 7, Temp, ii. i. 52, etc. 122. Constant. Uniform ; as opposed to the mingled damask, or red and white. Cf. Sonn. 130. 5 : " roses dnmask'd, red and white." 124. In parcels. Piecemeal. Cf. " by parcels" in Oth. i. 3. 154. Would have gone near to fall - would have come near falling. Cf. Temp. ii. 2. 78, Much Ado, iv. 2. 24, etc. 127. /. Not in the 1st folio, but added in the 2d. 128. What had he to do, etc. What right had he, etc. Cf. M. W. iii. 3. 164: " What have you to do (what is it to you) whither they bear it?" The phrase is used absolutely in T. ofS. i. 2. 226 and iii. 2. 218. 130. lam remember d. I recollect. Cf. M.for M. ii. i. no, 114, T.ofS. 5v. 3. 96, Rich. III. ii. 4. 23, etc. See on ii. 7. 189 above. 132. Omittance is no quittance. Doubtless a proverbial expression. 133. To him. W. omits to : probably a misprint. 135. Straight. Straightway, immediately. Cf. Lear, i. 3. 25 : "I '11 write straight to my sister," etc. See also ii. I. 69 above. 137. Passing. Exceedingly ; as often. Cf. M. N. D. ii. I. 2O, Hen. V. iv. 2. 42, etc. It is occasionally an adjective ; as in T. G. of I', i. 2. 17 : " a passing shame ;" 3 Hen. I 'I. \. i. 106 : " O passing traitor !" etc. ACT IV. SCENE T. 4. I do Io7-e it, etc. M. quotes what Johnson says to Bos- well : " You are always containing of melancholy, and I conclude from those complaints that you are fond of it. Do not pretend to deny it : manifestnm hahennis fnreni. Make it an invariable and obligatory law on yourself never to mention your own mental diseases. If you arc never to speak of them, you will think of them but little ; and if you think little of them, they will molest you rarely." 5. /// extremity of either. Kxtremely given to either. Cf. iv. 3. 23 below. 6. Modern censure. Ordinary judgment. See on ii. 7. 1 56 above. For censure, cf. IV. T. ii. I. 37 : " In my just censure, in my tnie opinion ;'* Rich. I If. ii. 2. 144: "To give your censures in this weighty business," etc. So the verb = judge in y. C. iii. 2. 16, Cor. ii. I. 25, etc. Worse than drunkards. " For both alike are as incapable of action as drunkards, and their state is more permanent" (M.). 9. Good to l>e a post. M. again quotes Johnson : " I remember that I ACT IT. SCENE /. ,8 5 was once at the house of a lady for whom I have a high respect. When the company were gone I said to her, 'What foolish talking have we had !' ' Yes,' said she, 'but while they talked you .said nothing.' 1 was struck with the reproof. How much better is the man who does any- thing that is innocent, than he who does nothing !" 13. Politic. That is, arising from "professionally assumed or half real sympathy with his client" (M.). 14. Nice. Affected, squeamish. Ilalliwcll quotes I ley wood, /Vvrrr/rj : "As nice as a^ mimics hen." 15. Simples. The ingredients of a compound, especially of herbs and medicines. Cf. K. of L. 530, K. and J. v. i. 40, Ham. iv. 7. 145. etc. 17. My often. The 1st folio has " by often," which Halliwcl) retains, considering the duplication of/// an instance like that in ii. 7. 139. 1 8. Humorous. " Fanciful " (\\'r.). Cf. its use in i. 2. 249 and ii. 3. 8. Schmidt explains it here as "sad." 19. A traveller '. See on ii. I. 41 above. 28. God l>e Ti 1 /' von. See on iii. 2. 242 above ; and for // -if, Gr. 101. 30. "See Overbury's Characters, where 'An Affectate Traveller' is described: 'He censures all things by countenances, and shrugs, and speakes his own language with shame and lisping.' Rosalind's satire is not yet without point. She punishes Orlando for being late by pre- tending not to notice him till Jaques is gone" (Wr.). 31. Strange suits. Cf. M. oj I', i. 2. 79 fol. : " How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his doublet in Italy," etc. ; and //<;/. /'///. i. 3. 30 . " tall stockings, Short blister' d breeches, and those types of travel." Disal>le = disparage ; as in v. 4. 73 below. Cf. M. of I', ii. 7. 30 and I Hen. I '/. v. 3. 67. 33. That countenance. Of tbat countenance, or national physiognomy. See Gr. 201 and of. i. 3. 114 above. 34, Swam. The folio has "sworn" for the participle in Tctnp. ii. 2. 133, and for the past tense in T. G. of I', i. i. 26. (Schmidt). Gondola is spelt "Gundello" in the folio, and the word is still pro- nounced "gundalow" in New England seaports. Johnson explains the passage, "That is, been at Venice, the sent at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion." 43. Clapfd him <>' the shoulder. That is, arrested him (Schmidt). Cf. Cynib. v. 3. 78. For another sense (as a mark of approval or good-will), see Much Ath\ i. i. 261, L. L. /.. v. 2. 107. etc. 47. Of. l!y. Cf. iii. 2. 321 above. Gr. 170. 49. Than you can make. Hamner's correction of the "you make" of the folio. 55. Beholding. Beholden. See Gr. 372 or .1ft r. p. 135. 6l. Leer. Look. There seems to be a tmich of .--arcaMTi in the word, though in early English it meant .--imply face, aspect. 66. Yon were better. See on i'i. 3. 79 above. 67. Grai-elled. Snick in the sand, brought to a standstill. Wr. quotes Bacuil, /j /,. i. 7. S : " Silenus was gravelled anil out of countenance.' !$6 NOTES. 68. Out. At a loss for words. Cf. L. L. L. v. 2. 152, 165 ; Cor. v. 3. 41, etc. See also iii. 2. 233 above. 69. God warn us! God forbid ! Some have thought it a corruption of " God ward (ih;it is, guard) us !" Cf. Rich. III. v. 3. 254. 77. Ranker. Schmidt explains this as "greater ;" \V. makes it = grosser, worse. Cf. rank in Ham. i. 2. 136, iii. 3. 36, etc. The Coll. MS. has "thank my honesty rather than my wit." 78. Suit, for the quibble, cf. ii. 7. 44 above. 86. Was not. 1 las not been. Cf. Hen, /'. iv. 7. 58 : "I was not angry since I came to France," etc. Gr. 347. 88. Troilus, etc. " She will not give Troilus the honour of dying by Achilles' spear, nor trailed by his steeds, as in sEit. i. 474" (M.). It is of a piece with Leander's "cramp." 94. Chroniclers. Hanmer changed this to "coroners,'' not seeing that Rosalind sportively compares the chroniclers to a coroner's jury. 116. Goto. Come; a common phrase of exhortation or reproof. Cf. Temp. v. i. 297. etc. See also Gen. xi. 4. 124, Commission. Warrant, authority to perform the rite. 125. There 'j. Changed by Steevens to "There ;" but a relative may be " understood." Cf. Gr. 244. Goes before the priest ; that is, does not wait for him to dictate the words. 133. April. Cf. J/. of I', ii. 9. 93 : "A day in April never came so sweet. To show how costly summer was at hand," etc. Elsewhere the metaphor is drawn from the rainy April ; as in A. and C. iii. 2. 43 : " The April 's in her eyes," etc. 134. May. Cf. L, L. L. iv. 3. 102 : " Love, whose month is ever May," etc. 136. A Barbary cock-pigeon. Cf. 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 108 : " a Barbary hen." 137. Against. Before, in expectation of (Schmidt) ; as in Rich. II. iii. 4. 28, etc. For tieiu-ftjtigleti, cf. Soiin. 91. 3 and L. L. L. i. I. 106. Fangled %\vm to finery, occurs in Cvmb. v. 4. 134. Xares gives examples of f angle = (rifle or toy, from Gayton, I-'est. Notes (" What fnngle now thy thronged guests to winne ") and Wood, Atlienir ("a hatred to fangles and the French fooleries of his time ") ; and Todd (Johnson's Diet.) adds from Greene, Mamillia : " There was no feather, no tangle, Jem, nor jewel." 139. Diana in the fountain. Malone thought this an allusion to the cross in Chcapside, the religious images of which were defaced in 1596. According to Stow (SitiTty of London, 1603), there was then "set up on the east side of the cross ... a curiously wrought tabernacle of grey marble, and in the same an alabaster image of Diana, and water con- veyed from the Thames prilling from her naked breast, but now decayed.'' This passage has been quoted as fixing the date of the play between 1596, "A'hen the image was set up, and 1603, when it was "decayed ;" but it is doubtful whether S. had this Diana in mind. Statues of the goddess were a frequent ornament of fountains, as Whalley and others have shown by quotations from writers of the time. ACT IV. SCEXE I. 187 140. A hyen. That is, a hyena. S. mentions the animal only here. Wr. quotes Holland's /Y/V/y, xxviii. 8 : "The Hyaens bloud taken in- wardly with fried barley incale, doth mitigat the wrings and gripes of the bellie." The bark of the hyena was supposed to resemble a loud laugh. Steevens quotes The CobUr^s Prophecv, 1594: "You laugh hyena-like, weep like a crocodile." Cf. Greene, Never too Late: "weeps with the crocodile, and smiles with the hiena." 146. Make the doors. Shut the doors. Cf. C. of E. iii. I. 93: "The doors are made against you." According to Halliwell's Archaic Diet. the expression is still used in Yorkshire, and Dr. Kvans (quoted by \Yr.) says it is also heard in Leicestershire. 147. 'Twill out. For the ellipsis, cf. i. 2. 197 ; and see Gr. 405. 151. tVit,ivhither ivilt'{ A proverbial expression, of which Steevens and others quote many contemporaneous examples. It seems to mean " What will your wit lead you to?" and was used to check one who was talking nonsense or talking too much. 156. Without her answer. Tyrwhitt quotes Chaucer, C. T. 10141 : " V'e, sire, quod Proserpine, and wol ye so? Now by my modre Ceies scmle 1 swore, Tliat 1 shall yeve hire sumsant answere, And al!e women after for hire 'sake : That though they ben in any gilt ytake, With face bold they slnil hemse ve excuse. And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse. For lacke of answere. non of us shall dien. Al had ye seen a thing with bothe youre eyen. Vet sluil we so visage it hardely. And \\epe and swere, and chideii subtilly, That ye shul ben as lewed as ben gees.'' 158. ffer husband's occasion. That is, "caused by him" (Schmidt) ; or it may mean "an occasion against her husband, an opportunity for taking advantage of him'' 1 (Wr.). 162. Lack. Be without, do without. Cf. Macb. iii. 4. 84 : " Your nob'e friends do lack you," etc. 171. By my troth, etc. Wr. remarks that Rosalind swears, as Hotspur would have said (see I Hen. //'. iii. I. 253), " like a comfit maker's wife : ' Not you, in good sooth,' and ' as true as I live,' and ' as God shall mend me,' and ' as sure as clay.' " 175. Pathctical. Perhaps meant to be a somewhat affected word. S. puts it elsewhere only into the mouths of Armado (/.. L. L. i. 2. 103) and Costard (Id. iv. I. 150). Cotgrave, however, uses it to translate the Fr. ptithe'tique. It is also found in Lodge's novel, in Florio's Montaigne, Greene's A't~vr too Late, etc. Waib. changed it here to "atheistical," and Grey suggested ''Jesuitical." 176. J/o'ilin-.'. Cf. concai'c in iii. 4. 23 above. I Si. The old justice. Steevens quotes T. and C. iv. 5. 225 : " that old common arbitrator, Time." 182. Simply misitst'J. Absolutely abused. See on iii. 2. 350 above ; and cf. Much Ado, ii. i. 246, elc. 183. //'( must lia~'e, etc. Ct. Lodge's novel : " And I pray you, quoth 'Xliena, it youi mbes \\cre off, what inettal are you made .>! that you 1 88 NOTES. are so satyrical against women ? is it not a foulc bird defiles his own nest ?" 189. The bay of Portugal. Wr. observes: "In a letter to the Lord Treasurer and Lord High Admiral, Ralegh gives an account of the cap- ture of a ship of Bayonne by his man Captain Floyer in ' the Bay of Portugal' (Edwards, Lift; of A'uleg/i, ii. 56). This is the only instance in which I have met with the phrase, which is not recognized, so far as I am aware, in maps and treatises on geography. It is, however, I am in- formed, still used by sailors to denote that portion of the sea off the coast of Portugal from Oporto to the headland of Cintra. The water there is excessively deep, and within a distance of forty miles from the shore it attains a depth of upwards of 1400 fathoms, which in Shake- speare's time would be practically unfathomable." 192. Thought. Halliwell explains it, " moody reflection, melancholy." See y. C. p. 146, note on Takf thought, and die. Schmidt makes it = love ; as in T. 6\ of V. i. I. 69, T. A', ii. 4. 115, etc. Spleen = caprice. The word means "any sudden impulse or fit beyond the control of reason " (Schmidt). Cf. 7. of S. iii. 2. 10: "A mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen ;" etc. It is used figuratively in this sense in M.N.D.\. i. 146: " Hiief ns the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth," etc. 193. Abuses. Deceives. See on iii. 5. 78 above. 195. Shadow. Shade, shady spot. Cf. V. and A. 191, RiJi. II. iii. 4. 25, etc. Stecvens quotes Alacb. iv. 3. i : " Let us seek out some desolate sliadt, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty." SCENE II. n. His leather skin, tic. Steevens quotes Lodge's novel : "What news, forrester ? hast thoti wounded some deere, and lost him in the fall ? Care not man for so small a losse ; thy fees was but the skinnc, the shoulder, and the horns." 12. In the folios this line and the stage direction are printed as one line : "Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen." Theo. was the first to give "The rest shall bear this burthen " as a stage direction. K. regards the whole as a stage direction, and omits it. Coll. and I), print it in different type ; W. does the same, reading " They" for "Then." Barron Field conjectured, " Men sing him home, the rest shall bear [This burthen." Halliwell prints, "Then sing him home, the rest shall bear This burthen." 13. Take thou no scorn. Cf. lien. /". iv. 7. 107 : " your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek ;" and I Hen. I' I. iv. 4. 35 : " And take foul scorn to fawn on him." 17. I.nstv. Jocosely = gallant ; or, as Schmidt gives it, " almost = merry." AC T IV. SCA' II f. 189 SCENE III. Johnson remarks that "the foregoing noisy scene was introduced to fill up an interval, which is to represent two hours." 2. Much Orlando! Spoken ironically, of course ; but J. H. thinks it necessary to print "And here much, Orlando!" and to explain it, "To be here is too much trouble for you, Orlando!" The Camb. ed. notes five stupid attempts in the way of "emendation." 7. Bid. Often used by S. as the past tense. Cf. M. N. D. iv. i. 192, T. of S. i. 2. 30 (but bade in 37 just below), etc. The participle is bid in every instance except Much Ado, iii. 3. 32 (Verges's speech), where it is bidden. Cf. i. 2. 53 above. In the present passage, the 1st folio has " did bid," the later folios " bid." 8. Contents. Accented as in 21 and in v. 4. 125 below; and so inva- riably in S., we believe. Cf.Worc. 9. Action. A trisyllable. See on i. 2. 247 above. Or. 479. 10. Of. See on ii. 4. 40 above. Gr. 178. 14. Swaggerer. Hully. Cf. 2 Hen. J I', ii. 4. 81, 83, 91, 104, etc. For the thought, ci.M.forM. iii. 2. 207: "This would make Mercy swear and play the tyrant." 16. And that. And says that. Gr. 280 (cf. 415). 17. As rare as phcenix. Cf. Temp. iii. 3. 21 : " Now I will believe That there are unicorn*, that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phcenix At this hour reigning there." In L. C. 93 pha-nix is used as an adjective = matchless. According to the familiar fable, but one phcenix existed at a time, having risen from the ashes of its predecessor. See allusions to the story in 3 Hen. VI. i. 4. 35, Hen. VIII. v. 5. 41. etc. OJ's my ivill ! See on iii. 5. 43 above. 23. Turn'd into. 15rought to. Cf. T. G. of V. iv. 4. 67 : "turns me to shame ;" Temp. i. 2. 64 : " the teen that I have turn'd you to," etc. 27. A hnnvift's hand. The hand of a wot king housewife. 32. Defies. For a different sense, see epil. 17 below. 33. Woman's. Howe's correction of the " women's " of the folios, which some eds. retain. 34. Giant-rude. Gigantically or preposterously rude. Gr. 430. 35. Ethiope. Not used elsewhere by S. as an adjective. For the noun, cf. T. G. of. V. ii. 6. 26, L. L. L. iv. 3. 1 18, 268, M. A'. D. iii. 2. 257, etc. 37. So please yon. See on i. i. 85 above ; and for heard, on iv. I. 86. 39. Pitches. Addresses me in the same "cruel " strain. 44. Laid apart. Laid aside. Cf. licit. I', ii. 4. "8: "and lay apart The borrowed glories," etc. ; also 15. J., 7\> Cvnthia : " Lay thy bow of pearl apart," etc. 48. Vengeance. "Mischief" (Johnson and Schmidt). Cf. T. A. ii. 3. 113 : "This vengeance on me had they executed." 49. Meaning me, etc. Meaning that I am. etc. 50. /f )'//<. Also written even ; an old plural analogous to <>.iv//, sJiiwn, etc. It is used li'ilhout rhyme in A', of I.. 1229 and Per. iii. prol. 5. 52. Alack. Ala.-*. S. uses the two words interchangeably. Thus we I 9 o NOTES. have " alas the day !" in iii. 2. 204 above, and " alack the day !" in M. of V. ii. 2. 73, etc, 53. Aspect. Perhaps used in its astrological sense, the eyes being com- pared to stars. Cf. R. of L. 14, Sonn. 26. 10, W. T. ii. I. 107, T. and C. i. 3. 92, I Hen. IV. i. I. 97, etc. The accent of the word in S. is always on the last syllable. Gr. 490. 54. Whiles. See on ii. 7. 128 above. C/// already in use. Halliweli quotes several ear- lier instances oi it ; as Orlando Furii>so, 1594 : " a Thrasonical mad cap,' *94 NOTES. etc. S. uses it again in L. L. L. v. i. 14. For the reference to Caesar, cf. Cymb. iii. I. 24. 36. Incontinent. Immediately. Cf. Rich. II. v. 6. 48 : " put on sullen black incontinent," etc. 37. IVnith. Passion, ardour. 38. Clubs. "Clubs !" was the rallying cry of the London apprentices, who used their clubs to put an end to a public disturbance, or sometimes (cf. //en. I'll I. v. 4. 53) merely to join in one. See R. and J. \. \. So. Malone aptly quotes '/'. A. ii. I. 37 : " Clubs, clubs ! these lovers will not keep the peace." 40. Nuptial. S. uses the singular except in Per. v. 3. 80. In Oth. ii. 2. 8 the quartos have the plural. See Temp, p. 143, note on 7 'he nuptial ; and cf. J. C. p. 183, note on His funerals. 41. By so much . . . by ho~u> much, etc. Cf. for the same arrangement of clauses, Kich. III. ii. 2. 126 : " Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is green and yet migovern'd ;" for the inverse order, A". John, ii. I. 80 and I Hen. II'. \. 2. 234. Sec also iii. 3. 55 above. 50. Of good conceit. Of good intellect. Schmidt thinks it may mean "birth," since it would need no magician to sec that he was a man of good mental capacity. For conceit in this latter sense, cf. M. of V. i. i. 92 : " wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ;" 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. 263 : " there 's no more conceit in him than is in a mallet," etc. 51. fnsomuch. Seing that, since ; used by S. nowhere else. 54. Grace me. (lain me credit. Cf. Hen. V. iii. 6. 71 : "goes to the wars, to grace himself on his return," etc. See also i. i. 135 above. 56. Three year. See on iii. 2. 298 above. Conversed. Been acquainted or associated with. Cf. T. G. of ]'. ii. 4. 63, Rich. II f. iv. 2. 28, etc. 57. Not damnable. Not deserving the penalty usually meted out to his craft. By an act of the time of Elizabeth, death without benefit of clergy was the punishment for the practice of witchcraft whereby death ensued ; imprisonment and the pillory for minor forms of the crime. An act of James I. repealing this made death the penalty for invoking evil spirits or practising witchcraft at all. 58. Gesture. Bearing, behaviour. Cf. Oth. iv. I. 88: "mark his gest- ure ;" Id. iv. i. 142 : " his gesture imports it,'' etc. For it in cries it out, see on i. 3. 120 above. 61. Inconvenient. Disagreeable; used by S. only here. 62. Human as she is, etc. "That is, not a phantom, but the real Ros- alind, without any of the clanger generally conceived to attend the rites of incantation " ( Johnson). 65. Tender dearlv. Hold dear, value highly (though I risk it by con- fessing myself a magician). Cf. R.audJ. iii. I. 74: "which name I ten- der As clearly as my own;" Ham. i. 3. 107: "Tender yourselt more dearly," etc. For the reflexive use of you in next line, see Or. 223. 69. /.i'7'tv. For the feminine use, see on iii. 4. 39 above. 70. Ungentlcness. L'nkinclncss ; used nowhere else by S. ACT V. SCENE III. '95 75. Him. The word is emphatic, as the measure shows. Gr. 483. 87. Fantasy. See on ii. 4. 27 above. 89. Duty and observance. Respect and homage. Cf. M.W. ii. 2. 203: "followed her with a doting observance," etc In line 91 the folio repeats "observance," which is obviously an error. Coll. (following his MS.), D., and \V. substitute " obedience " in 87 ; but we prefer to put it, as Malone does, in 89. It is urged in favour of the former arrangement that "obedience" goes better with "adoration and duty" than with "purity and trial;" but the same may be said of "ob- servance." On the other hand, when we find a word repeated in this way, it is probably an accidental repetition in setting the type, the com- positor having his eye or his thoughts on the word he has just set. Other emendations proposed in 89 are " obeisance " (which S. uses only in T. of S. ind. i. 108 : "do him obeisance"), "endurance" (which he has three times in the sense of suffering, or sufferance), "dcservance " (which he does not use at all), "perseverance" (as it is accented by S.), and "devotion." The last two are plausible, but no more so than "obe- dience," which the poet uses oftener than either. 96. To lixY. For the infinitive, see Gr. 356. 99. Why, etc. Some editors adopt Howe's "Who do you speak to," etc. ; but no change is really called for. Speak = &yy\ as in 2 /fen. JV, iv. 2. 16, Macb. iv. 3. 154, etc. Orlando's reply is = Because I speak to her, etc. 101. Nor doth not. See on ii. 3. 50 above, and cf. v. 4. 82 below. Gr. 408. 102. Like the hireling, etc. Cf. Af. N. D. v. i. 379 : " And the wolf be- howls the moon." See also jf. C. iv. 3. 27. In Lodge's novel we find the expression, " thou barkest with the wolves of Syria against the nioone." There were wolves in Ireland down to the beginning of the eighteenth century. SCE.NK III. 4. Dishonest. Immodest. Cf. Hen. l r . i. 2. 49 : "dishon- est manners," etc. See also honest in i. 2. 34 and iii. 3. 22 above. To be a woman of the world. That is, a married woman. Cf. Afuch Ado, ii. i. 331 : "Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun- burnt : I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband !" A. II 7 . i. 3. 20: " If I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may." 7. By my troth. See on i. 2. 79 above. 10. Clap into't roundly. Set about it at once. Cf. Af. for Af. iv. 3. 43 : " I would desire you to clap into your prayers ; for, look you, the warrant 's come." See also Afnch Ado, iii. 4. 44. Fur ronndlv-- at once, without ceremony, cf. T. of S. i. 2. 59, Rich. //. ii. I. 122, etc. ; and note the use of ;w/W- blunt, unceremonious, in T. A . ii. 3. 102, lien. I', iv. I. 216, etc. 12. The only prologues. Only the prologues. Cf. i. 2. 173 above. Capell conjectured "only the," anil \V. reads "your only." \Vr. quotes a parallel instance from Sidney, A ri -adia : "Gynecia, who with the oncly bi uze of the fall, had her shoulder put out of ioynct." 196 NOTES. 13. A time. One tune. See Gr. 81. 15. In the folio the last stanza is made the second. The arrangement here given is found in the earliest copy of the song with musical notes, printed in Morlcy's first Jlook of A yres, or little short Songs to sing an