And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino;
For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, &c.

Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no greater matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.

1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time.

Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be with you; and God mend your voices!-Come, Audrey. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Another Part of the Forest. Enter Duke Senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA.

Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised?

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do

not;

As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE.
Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is
urg'd:-

2 A married woman.

You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,

[To the Duke.

You will bestow her on Orlando here? Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.

Ros. And, you say, you will have her when I bring her? [TO ORLANDO. Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? [TO PHEBE.

Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? Phe. So is the bargain. Ros. You say,

that you'll have Phebe, if she will? [TO SILVIUS. Sil. Though to have her and death were both

one thing.

Ros. I have promis'd to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daugh

ter;

You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter:-
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me;
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd:—
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her,
If she refuse me :-and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd-boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favor.
Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him,
Methought he was a brother to your daughter;
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born;
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.

Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools!

Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all!

Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome: This is the motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears.

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one.

Jaq. And how was that ta'en up?

Touch. 'Faith, we met and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.

Jaq. How seventh cause?-Good my lord, like this fellow.

Duke S. I like him very well.

Touch. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks:-A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humor of mine, sir, to take that that sir, in a poor house; as your pearl, in your foul no man else will: Rich honesty dwells like a miser,

oyster.

Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.

Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.

A stately solemn dance.

Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed;-Bear your body more seeming, Audrey-as thus, sir, I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: This is called the Retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: This is called the Quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is call'd the Reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This is call'd the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: This called the Countercheck quarrelsome: and so to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct.

Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well cut?

Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie direct; and so we measured swords and parted.

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous; the second, the Quip modest; the third the Reply churlish; the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with circumstance; the seventh the Lie direct. All these you may avoid but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel: but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as If you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace maker; much virtue in If.

Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter HYMEN, leading ROSALIND in woman's clothes; and Celia.

Still Music.

Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together.

Good duke, receive thy daughter,
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither;

That thou mightst join her hand with his
Whose heart within her bosom is.

Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Duke S. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORLANDO. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa

lind.

Phe. If sight and shape be true,

Why then, my love, adieu!

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he :[To Duke S. I'll have no husband, if you be not he :[To ORLANDO. Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [To PHEBE.

Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
"Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:

Here's eight that must take hands, To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part:

[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. You and you are heart in heart:

[To OLIVER and CELIA.
You [To PHEBE.] to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:—
You and you are sure together,

[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
SONG.

Wedding is great Juno's crown;

O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;
High wedlock then be honored:
Honor, high honor and renown,

To Hymen, god of every town!
Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me;
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

[TO SILVIUS.

Enter JAQUES DE BOIS. Jaq. de B. 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 Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power! which were on foot,
In 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 questions with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise, and from the world:
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restor'd to them again
That were with him exil'd: This to be true,
I do engage my life.
Duke S.
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.
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n 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.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience; if I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life,
And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.

You to your former honor I bequeath;
[To Duke S.
Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it:-
Unless truth fail of veracity.

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case 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 beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women,

⚫ Dressed.

| for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them: and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate 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 [Exeunt. I make curt'sy, bid me farewell.

That I liked.

P

KING OF FRANCE.

DUKE OF FLORENCE.

BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.

LAFEU, an old Lord.

PAROLLES, a Follower of Bertram.

COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram.
HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess.
An old Widow of Florence.

DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA,

Clown, A Page.

tram in the Florentine War.

}

Servants to the Countess of Rousillon.

Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.

SCENE I.-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's

Palace.

Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning. Countess. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,' evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, (0, that had! how sad a passage 'tis!) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease.

Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam?

Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

1 Under his particular care, as my guardian.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?
Count. Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy

father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birth-right! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord,
"Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.

Laf.
He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. [Exit COUNTESS. Ber. The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts, [To HELENA.] be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU.
Hel. O, were that all !-I think not on my father;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like?
I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favor in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick' of his sweet favor:"
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.

Hel. And you, monárch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity? Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none; man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers up!-Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got, till virginity was first lost. That, you were made of, is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it.

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers: which is most infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is Peculiarity of feature.

3 Countenance.

a virgin virginity murders itself; and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited' sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't; Out with't: within ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: Away with't.

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?

Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. "Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and toothpick, which wear not now: Your date is better in your pie and your porridge, than in your cheek: And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you any thing with it? Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious Christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall;-God send him well!—
The court's a learning place;-and he is one-
Par. What one, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well.-"Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt: that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think; which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page. Par. Little Helen, farewell: If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court.

Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight. Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: But the composition, that your valor and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer

• Forbidden.

A quibble on date, which means age, and candied fruit.