Touch. As the ox hath his bow', sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then, one of you will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touch. I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey2: We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. O sweet Oliver! O brave Oliver! Leave me not behind thee: But wind away3, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. [Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY. Sir Oli. "Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. 1 [Exit. - his BOW,] i. e. His yoke. The ancient yoke in form resembled a bow. 2 Come, sweet Audrey :] In the first folio, this speech is given to Oliver: the error is corrected in the second folio. 3 But WIND away,] So the old copies; but it seems doubtful whether we ought not to read, "But wend away ;" i. e. go away; although in Ben Jonson's ballad of “ Robin Goodfellow,” quoted in the "Introduction" to "MidsummerNight's Dream," vol. ii. p. 389, we have," And wind out laughing," &c. This scrap of an old unknown ballad occurs to the Clown on uttering the name of Oliver, and possibly he altered the last line to render it more applicable. Steevens says, that in the books of the Stationers' Company, Aug. 6, 1584, was entered, by Richard Jones, the ballad of "O sweete Olyver, leave me not behinde thee." Again, "The answere of O sweete Olyver." Again, in 1586, “O sweete Olyver, altered to the Scriptures." SCENE IV. The Same. Before a Cottage. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me: I will weep. Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man. ? Ros. But have I not cause to weep? weep. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. Cel. Something browner than Judas's'. Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour. Cel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread3. Cel. 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. Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. Ros. Do you think so? Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet, or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Something browner than Judas's.] Judas, in old paintings, and in old poetry, is usually represented with red hair. 5 -as full of sanctity as the touch of holy BREAD.] Warburton would read, "holy beard;" but without authority or necessity. "Holy bread," as the Rev. Mr. Barry observes to me, is sacramental bread; and he adds, that "paxbread" is rendered by Coles, panis osculandus. 6 - a pair of CAST lips of Diana :] The folio of 1632 has chaste for "cast." Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in. Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover' is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me, of what parentage I was? I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides.—Who comes here? Enter CORIN. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquir'd After the shepherd that complain'd of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess Cel. Well; and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Between the pale complexion of true love, And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, you will mark it. If Ros. O! come, let us remove: 7 besides, the oath of a lover] The folio, 1623, omits a, and in the next line but one has confirmer for "confirmers." The folio, 1632, corrects only the first error. 66 s — breaks his staff like a noble goose.] The humour of this simile depends upon its allusion to tilting, in which it was a disgrace for any knight to break his lance across, and not directly against the breast of his adversary : quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover," means, unskilfully across the breast of the lady with whom he was in love. VOL. III. F Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: Say that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard, But first begs pardon: will you sterner be Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind. I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 9 Bring us to this sight,] Malone altered "to" to unto. Shakespeare, perhaps, preferred the natural and hasty mode of expression to the mere observation of ten-syllable metre. The folio of 1632 follows that of 1623. 10 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?] Possibly we ought to read, "lives and dies ;" but there is no change here in the folio of 1632 from the text of that of 1623, although "As You Like It" seems to have been one of the plays best corrected by the editor of the second folio. Steevens suspected a quibble upon the word "dies," but apparently without any reason. Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush", Thy palm some moment keeps, but now mine eyes, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes If ever, (as that ever may be near,) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, That love's keen arrows make. Phe. But till that time Come not thou near me; and when that time comes Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not, As till that time I shall not pity thee. Ros. [Advancing.] And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty', Than without candle may go dark to bed, Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? 11 - lean BUT upon a rush,] The folio of 1632 inserts but. 1 What though you have No beauty,] This passage very needlessly puzzled Malone and Steevens; the meaning seems quite clear. Rosalind intends, throughout her speech, to check the vanity of Phebe, and begins by telling her that she has no beauty, and therefore no excuse for being “proud and pitiless.” The difficulty seems to be to understand the passage when, varying from the old copies, mo is substituted for "no." Mo, or more, indicates comparison, but with whom was Phebe here to be compared in point of beauty? Not with Silvius, because Rosalind says he was "a properer man." |