 | Love in a Forest |  |
The Fourth ACT.
Jaques and Rosalind.Jaques.
I come, young Shepherd, in the Name
of that wimpled, whining, purblind,
wayward Boy, Regent of Rhiming, Lord of folded
Arms, anointed Soveriegn of Sighs and Groans,
Don Cupid—!—
Ros.
Say you so! Sir, Monsieur Jaques himself!
is he inlisted in this blind Prince's Regiment of sighing
Ideots.
Jaques.
Aye—I wear his Colours, I love, I sue,
I ask a Wife; prithee do not laugh at me, aye, I
wou'd have a Woman—A Thing that is like a German
Clock, always repairing—Ever out of
Tune—Yes I am shot—Thumpt with the
Boy's Bird-bolt under the Left Pap—'Faith.—
Will you grant my Petition?
Ros.
What! do all the Fools in Love's Hospital
take me for their Physitian?
Jaques.
I, that have been Love's Whip;—a very
Beadle to a humourous Sigh.
Ros.
But who are you in Love with?
Jaques.
A Woman, I tell you—A whitely Wanton
with a Velvet Brow, with two Pitch Balls stuck
in her Face for Eyes.—I pray, I wish, I interceed,
I petition, will you give me your Consent,
aye, or no.—
Ros.
Who is she?
Don't you see her in my Face? Is not
her Name in my Forehead already?
Ros.
No really, as yet I think you have a smooth
Brow, [illeg.]her Name, her Name!
Jaques.
The Lady, your Sister, Aliena I think you
call her, the Gentlewoman your Companion and
Friend.
Ros.
With her! why you are utterly undone, she
is as wild as a Feather, with an Understanding as
perverse as a Fool's Jest, or a Child's Wish, Ha,
ha,—how awkwardly it sits upon thee—Is it then
possible that thy solemn Gravity shou'd relax into
Wantonness at last?
Jaques.
Aye! so it is, I do worship, yes I fall
down, I am touch'd in the Liver Vein it seems, and
have learn'd the Trick to turn a Green-Goose into
a Deity—flat Idolatry!—Heaven mend me, I am
much out o'the Way.
Ros.
Aye, go thy Ways, and scourge thy self
with thy own Discipline till thy Shoulders bleed, it
is not my Business to injoin thee a Penance.
Jaques.
Why then give me your Consent to be reveng'd
on me for my Impertinence—Can you
punish me more?
Ros.
Why, Man, thy Sins, tho' they may be many
and great, have hardly merited this Castigation;
if you die of this Folly, you shall have a Stake
thrust thro' you, and be bury'd in the Highway.
Jaques.
I have a Stake thro' me—Here it is—
Shall I have your Consent?
Ros.
Never, St. Cupid be my Witness, never.
Jaques.
Your Reason?
Ros.
You are so rough, it will be impossible to
polish you into a modern Husband.
Jaques.
Why so?
Ros.
Can that inflexible proud Heart of thine
bend and be nealed into a commode, passive, obedient,
necessary, blind, credulous Convenience,
like a raving Lunatic; what will you do,
grave Sir, when you are shut up and shaved?
Jaques.
Do, thrust thy Wit thro' and thro' me,
cut me to Pieces with Satyr, I am an Ass to set up
for a Lover, I confess my self a very Ass in Harness
—I have not one Taffety Phrase, not a
Silken Syllable—Well, Sir, you mean me
well, I thank you, I will try to recover my Liberty,
I will endeavour—If I am cured, and ever
catch the Plague at my Eyes again—Fare you
well.
Ros.
This Fellow's Reason has brought an Action
against his Love; but it will go for the Defendant I
see—Heigh ho, so it must be.
Enter Orlando and Cælia.
Orl.
My fair Rosalind, I come with all the Speed
I cou'd, and within an Hour of my Promise, as
your fair Sister here will witness.
Ros.
Break an Hour's Promise in Love? He that
will divide a Minute into a thousand Parts, and
break but one Part of the thousandth Part of a Minute
in the Affairs of Love, it may be said of him,
that Cupid hath clap'd him o'the Shoulder; but I will
warrant him Heart whole.
Orl.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Ros.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in
my Sight, I had as lieve be woo'd of a Snale.
Orl.
Of a Snail!
Ros.
Aye, of a Snail; for tho' he comes slowly,
he carries his House on his Head; a better Jointure
I think than you can make a Woman; besides, he
brings his Destiny with him.
Orl.
What's that?
Why Horns; which such as you are fain to
be beholden to your Wives for; but he comes armed
in his Forehead, and prevents the Slander of his
Wife.
Orl.
My Rosalind is virtuous.
Ros.
And I am your Rosalind.
Cæ.
It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a
Rosalind of a better Leer than you.
Ros.
Come woo me, woo me, for now I am in
a Holyday Humour, and like enough to consent;
Am not I your Rosalind?
Orl.
I take some Joy to say you are, because I
wou'd be talking of her.
Ros.
Well, in her Person, I say I will not have
you.
Orl.
I would not have my right Rosalind of this
Mind, for I protest, her Frown might kill me.
Ros.
By this Hand it will not kill a Flie; but
come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming
Disposition, and ask what you will, I will grant
it.
Orl.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Ros.
Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays;
and all.
Orl.
And wilt thou have me?
Ros.
Aye, and twenty such. Come then, Sister,
you shall be the Priest and marry us. Give me
your Hand, Orlando; What do you say, Sister?
Orl.
Prithee marry us.
Cæ.
I cannot say the Words.
Ros.
You must begin, Will you Orlando—
Cæ.
Well then, Will you Orlando have to Wife
this Rosalind?
Orl.
I will.
Ros.
Aye, but how long?
Orl.
For ever and a Day.
Say a Day, without the ever; No, no, Orlando,
Men are April when they woo, December
when they are married; Maids are May when they
are Maids, but the Sky changes when they are
Wives; I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary
Cock-Pidgeon over his Hen, more clamorous than
a Parrot against Rain, more new fangled than an
Ape, more giddy in my Desires than a Monkey;
when you are disposed to be merry, I will weep for
nothing, weep like Diana in the Fountain; and
when you are sad, I will laugh like the Hyæna, and
that too when you are inclined to Sleep.
Orl.
But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros.
By my Life she will do as I do.
Orl.
Oh but she is wise.
Ros.
Or else she cou'd not have the Wit to do this,
the wiser the waywarder, make the Doors fast upon
a Woman's Wit and it will out at the Casement;
shut that, and 'twill away through the Key-hole;
stop that too, and it will fly with the Smoak up the
Chimney.
Orl.
But will you, when you shall see my sweet,
my dear Rosalind, will you be my Voucher that
she ought to give Credit to my Oaths, will you tell
her you know, and are a Witness to the Sincerity
and Ardour of my Love.
Ros.
Oh no—I will tell her no such Thing,
too well I know what Sort of Faith we Men to Women
owe, my Father had a Daughter lov'd a Man;
as it might be, perhaps, were I a Woman, I might
love you.
Orl.
And what is her History?
Ros.
A Blank, she never told her Love, but let
Concealment, like a Worm i'th Bud, feed on her
Damask Cheek; she pined in Thought; and with a
green and yellow Melancholly, she sat like Patience
on a Monument, smiling at Grief—
Alass, poor Maid—Well, my dear Rosalind,
for these two Hours I will leave thee.
Ros.
Alass, dear Love, I cannot be without thee
two Hours.
Orl.
I must attend the Dukes at Dinner; by two a
Clock I will be with thee again.
Ros.
Aye, go your Ways, go your Ways, I knew
what you wou'd prove, my Friends told me as much,
and I thought no less, that flattering Tongue of
yours won me; 'tis but one cast away, and so come
Death: Two o'the Clock is your Hour.
Orl.
Aye, my sweet Rosalind.
Ros.
By my Troth, and in good earnest, and so
Heav'n 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
my Censure and keep your Promise.
Orl.
With no less Religion, than if thou wer't indeed
my Rosalind—so Adieu.
Ros.
Well—Time is the old Justice that examines
all such Offenders, and let Time try Adieu.
[Exit Orlando.
Cælia and Rosalind.
Cæ.
You have misus'd our Sex in your Love-Prate.
Ros.
Oh Coz, Coz, Coz—my pretty little Coz—
How many Fathom deep are we two in Love? Our
Affections have an unknown Bottom, like the Bay
of Portugal.
Cæ.
I wish they are not rather Bottomless—
that as fast as we pour Affections in they run out
again.
No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that
was begot of Thought, conceiv'd of Spleen, and born
of Madness; that blind Rascally Boy that abuses
every Body's Eyes because his own are out, let him
be Judge how deep I am in Love—I will tell thee,
Aliena, I cannot live out of the Sight of Orlando;
I'll go find a Shadow, and Sigh till he returns.
Cæ.
And I will go sleep, sleep peaceably, if Jaques,
alass, does not break in upon my Slumbers.
[Exeunt.
Amiens, Lords, and Foresters.
Amiens.
Which is he that killed the Deer?
Lord.
Sir, it was I.
Amiens.
We will present him to the Duke like a
Roman Conqueror, and it wou'd 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.
Yes, Sir.
Amiens.
Sing it, 'tis no Matter how it is in Tune,
so it makes Noise enough.
Forester
sings.
His leathern Skin, and Horns to wear:
Then sing him Home,
Sing him Home.
It was a Crest e'er thou wer't born;
Thy Father's Father wore it,
And thy Father bore it,
The Horn, the Horn, the lusty Horn,
Is not a Thing to laugh to Scorn:
Then sing him Home, sing him Home.
[Exeunt.
Ros.
And yet we hear nothing of Orlando—
How say you, is it not past two a Clock?
Cæ.
I warrant thee he will come with a pure
Heart and a troubled Brain.
Enter Robert du Bois.
Rob.
Good Sir, one Word! I pray you, do you know
Where in the Purlieus of this Forest stands
A Sheepcote fenced about with Olive Trees?
Cæ.
West of this Place down in the Neighbour Bottom,
The Rank of Osiers by the murmuring Stream,
Left on the Right Hand, brings you to the Place;
But at this Hour the House doth keep itself,
There's none within.
Rob.
I think I know you both by your Description,
Such Garments, and such Years; the Boy is fair,
Of Female Favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe Sister: But the Woman
Browner than her Brother. Are not you
The Owners of the House I did inquire for?
Cæ.
We are.
Rob.
Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that Youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody Handkerchief: Are you he?
Ros.
I am! What must we understand by this?
Rob.
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a Promise to return again
Within an Hour; and pacing thro' the Forest,
Chewing the Food of sweet and bitter Fancy,
Lo what befel! he threw his Eye aside,
And mark what Object did present itself,
And high Top bald with dry Antiquity:
A wretched Man, o'erpower'd with Sleep and Travel,
Lay on his Back, around his naked Neck
A green and gilded Snake had wreath'd itself,
And with indented Glides did slip away
Into a Bush, under whose gloomy Shade
A Lioness, with Udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching Head on Ground, with Cat-like watch
When that the sleeping Man shou'd stir; for 'tis
The Royal Disposition of that Beast
To prey on nothing that does seem as dead;
This seen, Orlando did approach the Man,
And found it was his Brother, his youngest Brother.
Cæ.
Oh! I have heard him speak of that same Brother
With much Concern, and natural Tenderness,
As left behind under the cruel Guardianship
Of his most cruel eldest Brother Oliver.
Ros.
But to Orlando, did he leave him there
Food to the suck'd and hungry Lioness?
Rob.
No, he gave Battle to the furious Beast,
Who quickly fell before him: In the Hurley,
From miserable Slumber I awoke.
Cæ.
Are you his Brother?
Ros.
Was it you he rescued?
Cæ.
We give you Joy, your Brother's Noble Spirit
Appears in every Action of his Life.
Ros.
Oh! my Heart beats;—but, Sir, the
bloody Handkerchief?
Rob.
By and by—
When from the first to last between us two
Tears our Recountments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that Desart Place,
He led me instantly unto his Cave,
There stripped himself, and here upon his Arm
The Lioness had torn some Flesh away,
And cry'd in fainting upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his Wound,
When 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 Handkerchief,
Dy'd in his Blood, unto the Shepherd-Youth
That he in Sport doth call his Rosalind.
[Ros. swoons into Cælia's Arms.
Cæ.
Why how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!
Rob.
Many will swoon when they but look on Blood.
Cæ.
There is no more in it: Brother Ganymede!
Rob.
Look, he recovers.
Cæ.
I pray you take him by the Arm.
Rob.
Be of good Cheer, Youth;—You a Man!
You lack a Man's Heart.
Ros.
I do so, I confess it;—Ah!—A Body
wou'd think this was well counterfeited: I pray
you tell your Brother how well I counterfeited:
Heigh-ho—
Cæ.
Came you, Sir, from the Court of Frederick
directly.
Rob.
From thence expresly to the banish'd Duke,
And partly, too, to bring Orlando News
Of our unnatural elder Brother's Death,
And of his Lands and antient Patrimony
Descended to him by this Accident.
Ros.
What Accident, I pray you?
Rob.
He died convicted of most foul Designs,
And Charles confess'd, with his last dying Breath,
The Fencer, Charles, whom he in single Combat
Subdued, confess'd, that Oliver practis'd with him;
He was suborn'd by Oliver to impeach
Orlando as a Traitor.—Frederick
Resolv'd to punish him; but he prevented,
And fell a Martyr to his own Misdoings.
Cæ.
We hide our Deeds from Heav'n, as Children do
Their Eyes from Daylight, and because we see not,
Believe we walk unseen.
Ros.
Come, Sir, this Story feeds your Melancholly,
You shall retire and take within our Cottage
What small Refreshment there you'll find.
Rob.
I pray you first inform me, gentle Sir,
Where in the Confines of this Forest dwells
Our good Alberto, with his banish'd Nobles,
I have some Business there, of such Import,
No Minutes shou'd be lost.
Ros.
—Then but a Minute,
And we'll conduct you to the good Duke's Cave.
Rob.
I thank you, and will follow.
Ros.
This Way, Sir,—Wee will attend you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Orl.
As yet your Fever does not intermit, but
what will become of you in the cold Fit.
Jaques.
I shall take the Jesuit's Bark of Matrimony.
Orl.
A Specifick.
Jaques.
I have had much Bustle with my Heart to
little Purpose; prithee ask him, this Ganymede, thou
hast an Interest there, ask his Consent, the Woman
has agreed—We want his Approbation only.
Orl.
And you persist—
Jaques.
I will die a Martyr to my Folly.
Orl.
Enough, I will engage your Brother Ganymede,
and your Wedding shall be to Morrow; thither
will I invite the Duke and all his contented
you here comes my Rosalind.
[Exit Jaques.
Enter Rosalind.
Ros.
Oh my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to
see thee wear thy Arm in a Scarfe. Did your Brother
tell you how I counterfeited Fainting, when he
shewed me the Handkerchief.
Orl.
Aye, and greater Wonders than that: But
I have engaged you to consent that your Sister, and
Senior Jaques may have Leave legally to go to Bed
together.
Ros.
Aliena has my Approbation; in a Word,
the good People are in the very Wrath of Love and
they will together whether I will or no, Clubs cannot
part 'em—
Orl.
They shall be marry'd to Morrow, and I
will bid the Duke to their Nuptials. But oh how
bitter a Thing it is to look into Happiness through
another Man's Eyes; by so much the more shall I to
Morrow be the heavier in my Heart, by how much
I shall think my Friend Jaques happy, in having
what he wishes for.
Ros.
Why then, to Morrow, I cannot serve your
Turn for Rosalind.
Orl.
I can live no longer by thinking.
Ros.
Know then that since I was seven Years old
I have conversed with a Magitian, most profound in
his Art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind,
and so near the Heart as you say, when
Jaques marries Aliena, you shall marry her; I
know into what Streights of Fortune she is driven,
and it is not impossible to me, if it is not inconvenient
to you, to set her before your Eyes to Morrow;
human as she is and without any Danger.
Orl.
Speakest thou in sober Meaning?
By my Life I do, which I tender dearly,
tho' I say I am a Magitian; therefore put on your
best Looks, for if you will be married to Morrow
you shall, and to Rosalind if you will. Look ye,
here comes another Pair of Lovers, even the captivated
Jaques, and his Conquerour.
Enter Jaques and Cælia.
Cæ.
Good Shepherd, tell us what it is to Love?
Ros.
It is to be made all of Sighs and Tears.
It is to be all made of Fantasy,
All made of Passion, and all made of Wishes.
All Adoration, Duty, and Observance.
Jaques.
And so am I for Aliena.
Cæ.
And I for Jaques.
Orl.
And I for Rosalind.
Ros.
And I for no Woman. Pray you no more of
this, 'tis like the howling of Wolves against the
Moon, to Morrow you agree to meet me, all together,
before the Duke; if he will give his Approbation,
you shall be marry'd to Morrow; I will content
you, Orlando, if what pleases you contents
you, and you shall be marry'd to Morrow; as you
love Rosalind, meet, as you love Cælia, meet, as
you love Jaques, meet, and as I love no Woman I
will meet. So fare you well, I have left you my
Commands.
Cæ.
I will not fail, if I live.
Jaques.
Nor I.
Orl.
Nor I.
| Love in a Forest | |