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of love, to a loving humour of madness”; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook, merely monastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't.
Orl. I would not be cured, youth.
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me.
Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.
Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest
you live. Will you go?
Ori. With all my heart, good youth.
Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind.—Come, sister, will you go?
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY ; JAQUES behind,
observing them. Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey ? am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you ?
Aud. Your features ? Lord warrant us! what features?
Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
– from his mad humour of love, to a loving humour of madness;] The old copies have it, “liring humour of madness ;” which is not very intelligible, unless it mean (as Steevens supposed) a lasting, humour of madness. The antithesis is however complete, if, with Johnson, we read loving, which is only the change of a letter : and this reading is supported by the MS. correction of the early possessor of the first folio, in the library of Lord Francis Egerton. The meaning thus is, that Rosalind drove her suitor from his mad humour of love, into a humour in which he was in love with madness, and forswore the world.
Jag. (A side.] O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jove in a thatch'd house!
Touch. When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.—Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
Aud. I do not know what poetical is. Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?
Touch. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers they do feign.
Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical ?
Touch. I do, truly; for thou swear'st to me, thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.
Aud. Would you not have me honest?
Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
Jaq. [Aside.] A material fool.
Aud. Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest!
Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness : sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end, I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text?, the vicar of the next village,
worse than Jove in a thatch'd house !] Alluding of course to the story of Baucis and Philemon in Ovid, Met. 8. See also “Much Ado about Nothing," vol. ii. p. 204.
- Sir Oliver Mar-text,] The title of “Sir” was of old given commonly to the clergy, especially by the lower orders.
who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us.
Jaq. [Aside.] I would fain see this meeting.
Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said,—many a man knows no end of his goods: right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife : 'tis none of his own getting. IIorns? Even so:— Poor men alone? — No, no; the noblest deer bath them as huge as the rascal®. Is the single man therefore blessed ? No: as a walld town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want.
Enter Sir OLIVER MAR-TEXT.
Here comes Sir Oliver.—Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ?
Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?
Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
Jaq. [coming forward.] Proceed, proceed: I'll give her.
Touch. Good even, good Mr. What-ye-call’t : how do you, sir? You are very well met: God'ild you' for your last company. I am very glad to see you :-even a toy in hand here, sir.—Nay; pray, be cover'd.
Jag. Will you be married, motley ?
the rascal.] Lean, poor deer, were called rascals.
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 Audrey?:
O sweet Oliver !
O brave Oliver !
But wind away,
Begone, I say,
[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. [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 " () sweete Olyrer, leave me not behinde thee.” Again, “ The answere of O) sweete Olycer.” Again, in 1586, “ ( sweete Olycer, altered to the Scriptures."
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?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire: therefore 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 bread'.
Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Dianao: 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.
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?
4 Something browner than Judas's.) Judas, in old paintings, and in old poetry, is usually represented with red hair.
– 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.
- a pair of cast lips of Diana :] The folio of 1632 has chaste for “cast."