Act II.
Scene IV.
Scene IV.—The Forest of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA dressed
like a shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.
Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits.
Touch. I care not for my spirits if my legs
were not weary.
Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my
man's apparel and to cry like a woman; but I
must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and
nose ought to show itself courageous to petti-
coat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me: I cannot go
no further.
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with
you than bear you; yet I should bear no cross if
I did bear you, for I think you have no money in
your purse.
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more
fool I: when I was at home, I was in a better
place: but travellers must be content.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you,
who comes here; a young man and an old in
solemn talk.
Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.
Cor. This is the way to make her scorn you
still.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love
her!
Cor. I partly guess, for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil. 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?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily.
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer with 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. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit.
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy
wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. 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 batler, and
the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands
had milked; and I remember the wooing of a
peascod instead of her, from whom I took two
cods, and giving her them again, said with weep-
ing tears, 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are
true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is
mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal
in folly.
Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware
of.
Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own
wit till I break my shins against it.
Ros. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
Touch. And mine; but it grows something
stale with me.
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.
Touch. Holla, you clown!
Ros. Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls?
Touch. Your betters, sir.
Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Ros. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Ros. 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.
Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,
A.nd 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
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and
pasture?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but
erewhile,
That little cares for buying anything.
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
So with me: if you like upon report
File soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.
[Exeunt.
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