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As You Like It. 



A NEW VARIORUM EDITION 



OF 



Shakespeare 



EDITED BY 

HORACE HOWARD FURNESS 



VOL. vrii 



As You Like It 



PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
IjONDON: lo HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN 

189I 



Copyright, 1890, by H. II. FURNESS 



Wbstcott & Thomson, Prbss op J. B. Lippincott Compant, 

RUctroiyptrs and Stereotypers^ Phila. Phila. 



IN MEMORIAM 



PREFACE 



All needful informatioii in regard to the scope and design of this 
Edition may be found on p. 439 of the Appendix, 

The Text is that of the FmsT Folio, as accurately reproduced as a 
comparison almost letter by letter can make it. 

There are many passages in Shakespbarb whereon it is desirable 
to have notes demanding no profundity of antiquarian research ot 
archaeological knowledge on the part of the annotator, but requiring 
solely keenness of intellect with clearness of thought or of expres- 
sion. On such passages there cannot be, speaking for myself, too 
many notes nor too much discussion, provided only that we are fortu- 
nate enough to conjure into the circle such minds as Dr Johnson's, 
or Coleridge's, Hazutt's, Campbell's, Christopher North's, 
Mrs Jameson's, or Charles Lamb's ; or can summon to our aid the 
traditions of Garrick, or of ICean, or of Mrs Siddons ; or listen to 
Mrs Kebcble or to Lady Martin. Indeed, the professions of * love * 
and ' admiration * for Shakespeare from those who can turn aside 
from such nights and feasts of the gods are of doubtful sincerity. 

At the same time, to be perfectly fair, it must be confessed that we 
read our Shakespeare in varying moods. Hours there are, and they 
come to all of us, when we want no voice, charm it never so wisely, to 
break in upon Shakespeare's own words. If there be obscurity, we 
rather like it ; if the meaning be veiled, we prefer it veiled. Let the 
words flow on in their own sweet cadence, lulling our senses, charm- 
ing our ears, and let all sharp quillets cease. When Amiens's gentle 
voice sings of the winter wind that its ' tooth is not so keen because 
it is not seen,* who of us ever dreams, until wearisome commentators 
gather mumbling around, that there is in the line the faintest flaw in 
' logical sequence * ? But this idle, receptive mood does not last for 
ever. The time comes when we would fain catch every ray of light 



14312'7 



vi • PREFA CE 

flashing from these immortal plays, and pluck the heart out of every 
mystery there ; then, then^ we listen respectfully and gpratefully to 
every suggestion, every passing thought, which obscure passages 
have stirred and awakened in minds far finer than our own. Then it 
is that we welcome every aid which notes can supply, and find, too, 
a zest in tracing the history of Shakespearian Comment from the 
condescending, patronising tone of the early critics toward the * old 
bard,* with Warburton's cries of * rank nonsense,' to the reverential 
tone of the present day. 

It has been a source of entertainment, in this present play of As 
You Like It^ to note/ what I think has been but seldom noted, the 
varied interpretations which the character of Jaques has received. 
With the sole exception of Hamlet, I can recall no character in 
Shakespeare of whom the judgements are as diverse as of this 
*old gentleman,*/ as Audrey calls him. j/Were he really possessed 
of all the qualities attributed to him by his critics, we should behold 
a man both misanthropic and genial, sensual and refined, depraved 
and elevated, cynical and liberal, selfish and generous, and finally, as 
though to make him still more like Hamlet, we should see in him 
the clearly marked symptoms of incipient insanity. Indeed, so mys- 
terious and so attractive is this character that, outside of England at 
least, JAQUES has often received a larger share of attention than even 
Rosalind. So completely did he fascinate George Sand that in her 
version of the play for the French stage Jaques is the guiding spirit 
of the whole drama, and is represented, by her, as so madly in love 
with Celia that in a fit of jealousy he is only with difficulty restrained 
from fighting a duel with Orlando, and the curtain falls on the pret- 
tiest of ring-times between him and his adoration. 

If all degrees of surprise had not been, for me, long ago exhausted 
concerning Shakespeare, not alone at the poet himself, but at every 
circumstance howsoever connected with him, I should be inclined to 
wonder that the students of Anthropology, instead of adopting various 
standards, such as Facial Angles, Craniological Measurements, and the 
like, had not incontinently adopted one of Shakespeare's comedies 
as the supreme and final test in determining nationality, at least as 
between the Gallic, the Teutonic, and the Anglosaxon races. I sug- 
gest a comedy as the test rather than a tragedy, because in what is 
tragic the whole world thinks pretty much alike ; a fount of tears is 



PREFACE vii 

in eveiy human breast, and the cry of pain is sure to follow a wound. 
We are all of us like Barham*s Catherine of Cleves, who 

' didn't mind death, but she couldn't stand pinching ;* 

it makes no difference whether the unshunnable outcry is in French, or 
German, or English, the key-note is the same in all. But in Comedy 
it is far different. We may all cry, but we do not all laugh ; and when 
we laugh, we are by no means all tickled by the same straw. And it 
is just here wherein the difference of nationality or race consists. 
Thj6ophii*E Gautier, in the short but good Preface to his transla- 
tion of Munchhausen^ has admirably explained the cause of this dif- 
ference: *Le g^ie des peuples,* he says, *se r6vMe surtout dans la 
plaisanterie. Comme les oeuvres sdrieuses chez toutes les nations ont 
pour but la recherche du beau qui est un de sa nature, elles se ressem- 
blent ndcessairement davantage, et portent moins nettement imprim^ 
le cachet de 1' individuality ethnographique. Le comique, au coil- 
traire, consistant dans une deviation plus ou moins accentude du 
modMe id^, ofifre une multiplicity singuli^re de ressources ; car il y a 
mille fagons de ne pas se conformer k I'arch^type.' 

The * beaded bubbles winking at the brim' of English wit may, 
therefore, be to German eyes merely insipid froth to be lightly blown 
aside. 

Hence it is that such a sparkling comedy as this of As You Like It 
may be made to yield the test I have spoken of. It is through and 
through an English comedy, on English soil, in English air, beneath 
English oaks ; and it will be loved and admired, cherished and appre- 
ciated, by English men as long as an English word is uttered by 
an English tongue. Nowhere else on the habitable globe could its 
scene have been laid but in England, nowhere else but in Sher- 
wood Forest has the golden age, in popular belief, revisited the earth, 
and there alone of all the earth a merry band could, and did, fleet the 
time carelessly. England is the home oA As You Like It^ with all its 
visions of the Forest of Arden and heavenly Rosalind ; but let it 
remain there ; never let it cross * the narrow seas.* No Forest of Arden, 
'rocking on its towery top, all throats that g^gle sweet,' is to •be 
found in the length and breadth of Germany or France, and without a 
Forest of Arden there can be no Rosalind. No glimpses of a golden 
age do German legends afford, and time, of old in Germany, was 
fleeted carelessly only by * bands of gypsies.* Such a life as Rosalind 
led in the Forest, which all English-speaking folk accept without a 



viu PREFACE 

thought of incongruity, is to the German mind wellnigh incom- 
prehensible, and refuge is taken, by some of the most eminent Ger- 
mans, in explanations of the 'Pastoral drama,' with its * sentimental 
unrealities' and * contrasts,' or of Shakespeare's intentional * dis- 
regard of dramatic use and wont,* &c. &c. Rosalind ceases to be 
the one central figure of the play, her wit and jests lose all prosperity 
in German ears, and Germans consequently turn to Jaques and to 
Touchstone as the final causes of the comedy and as the leading 
characters of the play. The consequence is that this almost flawless 
chrysolite of a comedy, glittering with Rosalind's brightness and 
reflecting sermons from stones and glowing with the good in every- 
thing, becomes, as seen through some German eyes, the almost sombre 
background for Shakespeare's display of folly ; nay, one distin- 
guished German critic goes so far as to consider the professional Fool 
as the most rational character of all the Dramatis Persona. Indeed, 
it is to be feared that of some of the German criticisms on this com- 
edy it may be truthfully said, that were the names of the characters 
omitted to which these critics refer, it would be almost impossible 
to discover or to recognise which one of all Shakespeare's plays is 
just then subjected to analysis ; so difficult is it for an alien mind 
to appreciate this comedy of As You Like It, 

Stress has been laid in these later days on the Chronological Order 
in which Shakespeare wrote his plays, and attempts have been made 
to connect their tragic or their comic tone with the outward circum- 
stances of Shakespeare's own life; it has been assumed that, in 
general, he wrote tragedies when clouds and darkness overshadowed 
him, and comedies when his outer life was full of sunshine. 

For my part, I believe that Shakespeare wrote his plays, like 
the conscientious playwright that he was, to fill the theatre and make 
money for his fellow-actors and for himself; and I confess to abso- 
lute scepticism in reference to the belief that in these dramas Shake- 
speare's self can be discovered (except on the broadest lines), or that 
either his outer or his inner life is to any discoverable degpree reflected 
in his plays : it is because Shakespeare is not there that the cha- 
racters are so perfect, — the smallest dash of the author's self would 
mar to that extent the truth of the character, and make of it a mask. 

But assuming, for the nonce, that this belief of recent days is well 
grounded, and that from the tone of his dramas we may infer the 
experiences of his life, I cannot but think that it is an error to infer 



k. 



PREFACE ix 

from his tragedies that his life was certainly sad, or that because his 
life was sad we have his tragedies. Surely, it was not then, when 
his daily life was overcast with gloom, and he was ' troubling deaf 
Heaven with his bootless cries,* that he would turn from real to write 
fictitious tragedies. Do we assuage real tears with feigned ones? 
From an outer world of bitter sorrow Shakespeare would surely 
retreat to an inner, unreal world of his own creation where all was 
fair and serene ; behind that veil the stormy misery of life could be 
transmuted into joyous calm. If^ therefore, this belief of recent days 
be true, it was, possibly, from a life over which sorrow and depression 
brooded that there sprang this jocund comedy of As You Like It 

The extracts from Kreyssig, who, of all German commentators, 
seems to have best caught the spirit of this play, have been translated 
for me by my Father, the Rev. Dr Furness, to whom it is again my 
high privilege and unspeakable pleasure to record my deep and abid- 
ing thanks. 

XI. li. F. 
February t 1890. 



Dyamatis Per/once. 



DUKE of Burgundy. 

Frederick, Brother to the Duke^ and Ufurper of his 

Dukedom, 
Amiens, 1 Lords attending upon the Duke in his 
Jaques, / Banijhment. 5 

Dramatis Personse] First given by Rowe (ed. i) and substantially followed by 
all Editors. In Rowe (ed. ii), after the names Corin and Sylvius, there is added *A 
Clown, in love with Audrey,' and * William, another Clown, in love with Audrey.' 
Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, and Warburton followed Rowe (ed. ii). Capell added ' a 
Person presenting Hymen.' 

5. Jaques] The pronunciation of this name has never been decisively determined. 
A discussion in regard to it arose in the pages of The Athemeum for the 31st of July, 
the 14th and 21st of August, and the 4th of September, 1880; by some of the par- 
ticipants it was held to be a monosyllable, a&d by the others a disyllabic. The dis- 
cussion ended, as literary journalistic discussions generally end, in leaving the dis- 
putants, as far as the public can judge, more firmly convinced than ever of the soundness 
of the views with which they started. For the monosyllabic pronunciation no authority 
was cited, merely personal preference was alleged. For the disyllabic pronunciation 
the requirements of metre were urged when the occurrence of the name in the middle 
of a verse shows that pronunciation to be indispensable, as in II, i, 29 : *■ The mel | an- 
cho I ly Ja I ques grieves | at that,' and possibly in V, iv, 199 : < Stay, Ja | ques, stay.' 
I have discussed in a note on II, i, 29, all the instances where the name occurs metri- 
cally in Shakespeare, and beg to refer the student to that note, which supplements the 
present. In The Athenaum for the 20th of May, 1882, H. Barton Baker gives of 
this disyllabic pronunciation four examples from Greene's Friar Bacon, five from his 
James IV, one from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, another from his Soliman and Perseda, 
and two from Beaumont and Fletcher's Noble Gentleman. The value of this list, for 
our present purpose, is impaired by the fact that none of these characters is supposed 
to be English, and in each case, therefore, < Jaques ' may possibly have received a 
foreign pronunciation. 

On the other hand, Halliwfxl says ' the name of this character was pronounced 
Jakes* And French (p. 317) tells us that ' the name of the melancholy Lord Jaques 
belongs to Warwickshire, where it is pronounced as one syllable ; *' Thomas Jakes of 
Wonersh," was on the List of Gentry of the Shire, 12 Henry VI, 1433. At the sur- 
render of the Abbey of Kenilworth, 26 Henry VIII, 1535, the Abbot was Simon 
Jakes, who had the large pension of 100/. per annum granted to him. There are 
still some respectable families of the name in the neighborhood of Stratford ; John 
Jaques and Joseph Jaques reside at Alderminster ; Mrs Sarah Jaques at Newbold-on- 
Stour; and families of the name are living at Pillerton and Eatington (1867).' The 



0^ 



tmmim 



2 DRAMA TIS PERSONjE 

Le Beu, A Courtier attending on Frederick. 6 

Oliver, Eldejl Son to Sir Rowland de Boys, who 
had formerly been a Servant of the Duke. 

"L , I \ Younger Brothers to Oliver. ^ 

Orlando, J ^ 

evidence which French adduces is sufficient, I think, to show that the name as a 
monosyllable was well known in Shakespeare's day. If more be needed in proof of 
this monosyllabic pronunciation it is settled beyond a peradventure by the coarse, 
unsavory anecdote with which Harington begins his Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596 
(p. 17 of Singer's Reprint), which need not be repeated here; Halliwell's word and 
mine may be taken for the fact Assimiing, then, this monosyllabic pronimciation, I 
think it is not impossible to reconcile it with the passages where the metre demands 
two syllables by supposing that, like many other words, such as commandment (see II, 
vii, 11^ post) f England f children and the like, there can be, when needed, the sub- 
audition of an extra syllable. The fact that Jaques was an old Warwickshire name 
takes it out of the rule which applies to foreign names, like Parolles, To me the evi- 
dence is conclusive that it was in general pronounced as a monosyllable, Jakes^ and, 
when metre required it, there was, I believe, the suggestion of a faint, imemphatic 
second syllable. 

Having thus discerned the right, let us be human and the wrong pursue. The 
name Jakes is so harsh, and so indissolubly associated with the old time < Bowery 
boys,' that surely the fervent hope may be pardoned that the name Jerques will never 
be pronounced other than Jaq-wes, — Ed. 

6. Le Beu] This is the uniform spelling in the Folio, except in the Stage direc- 
tion, I, ii, 88, which reads Enter le Beau, 

7. Rowland de Boys] French (p. 316) : It is very probable that Shakespeare 
took the name of his knight from an old but extinct family of great note in Leicester- 
shire and Warwickshire, whose memory was long preserved in the latter county, Sir 
Emald or Arnold de Bo3rs, Arnold being easily transposed to Roland, and thence 
we have Orlando. The manor of Weston-in-Arden was held by Sir Emald de Bo3rs, 
temp. Edw. I, paying yearly to the Earl of Leicester < one hound called a Brache, 
and seven pence in money for all services.' There were four generations in succes- 
sion of the lords of the manor of Weston-in-Arden^ each of whom is called Sir Emald 
de Bosco, or de Boys. 

9. Jaques] To avoid confusion with the * melancholy Jaques,' Wieland changed 
this to Jakob. Le Tourneur adopted James in his Dramatis Persona^ but by the 
time the Fifth Act was reached he had forgotten the substitution, and Jaques, not 
JameSy enters on the scene. It was Wieland, I am afraid, who started the custom in 
Germany, which has survived, I am sorry to say, even to the present hour, of trans- 
lating, and of changing at will, the names of Shakespeare's characters. The infec- 
tion spread even to that most admirable translator, Frangois- Victor Hugo. Scarcely 
a play of Shakespeare's can be read in German wherein names with which we are all 
familiar from our childhood are not distorted and disguised beyond recognition, and 
however often they may occur in reading it is always an effort to recall the original. 
Who of us, however at home he may be in German, can rect^nize at first sight Frau 
Hurtig f or Schaal and StUle, or those two associates lost to everlasting redemption 
under the disguise of Hohapfel and Schleewein f Perhaps it may be urged that these 



DRAMA TIS PERSONjE 3 

Adam^ an old Servant of Sir Rowland de Boys, 10 

now following the Fortunes of Orlando. 

Dennis, Servant to Oliver. 

Charles, A Wrejller^ and Servant to the Ufurping 
Duke Frederick. 

Touchstone, a Clown attending on Celia and 
Rosalind. 

?,"^ \ Shepherds. 

Sylvius,/ ^ 15 

William, a Clown^ in Love with Audrey. 

Sir Oliver Mar-text, a Country Curate. 17 

names, in that they have a meaning, ought to be translated, and there might be some 
justice in the plea if that meaning were always a key to the character. But it is 
rarely so. The names are simply those of the lower orders, and to bear, originally, a 
meaning is characteristic of all such names ; the meaning, however, had long before 
ceased to have any special connection with the present owner of the name. In the 
play before us, in the translation of Dr Alexander Schmidt and in that of Herwegh, 
the two most recent translators and among the very best, mention is made of Hannchen 
Freundlich; who would recognise under this disguise Touchstone's Jane SmUef 
Touchstone himself figures as ProbstHn^ and Audrey is K&tkc?un ; and they come 
near to be married by Ehren Olivarius Textdreher. Perhaps we should be grrateful 
that we are not called upon to read the tragedy of < Ddrfchen^ Prince of Denmark.' 
Would our German brothers relish the retaliation which should speak with delight 
of Gutter's * Song of the Bell,* or of the tragedy of • Faust and Peggie,* or, better still, 
*Pist and Peg*? If this be wellnigh sacrilege, let them be gently reminded that our 
Shakespeare names have become a part of the language of our hearths and homes, 
and can be no more translated or changed than can the meaning at this late day be 
extracted from the Aztec name, America, and our country be referred to as 7^ Hilts, 
—Ed. 

17. Sir Oliver] Johnson : He that has taken his first degree at the University is 
in the academical style called Dominus, and in common language was heretofore 
termed Sir. This was not always a word of contempt ; the graduates assumed it in 
their own writings; so Trevisa, the historian, writes himself Syr John de Trevisa. 
Critical Rbview (Dec. 1765, p. 409) : Had Mr Johnson been more of an anti- 
quarian, he would have been a much better editor of Shakespeare. He would then 
have known that this is no academical, but a pontifical style. The popes, not to be 
behindhand with our kings before the Reformation, arrogated to themselves a power 
of knighthood, both in England and Scotland ; and the honour was sold by their 
legates or agents to churchmen who could pay for it, which great numbers did in 
both kingdoms. Steevens : We find the same title bestowed on many divines in our 
old comedies. Nichols : A clergyman, who hath not been educated at the univer- 
sities, is still distinguished in some parts of North Wales by the appellation of Sir, 
Hence the Sir Hugh Evans in the Merry Wives is not a Welsh knight who hath taken 
orders, but only a Welsh clergyman without any regular degree from either of the uni- 
versities. Wright : The corresponding Latin < Dominus * still exists in the Cambridge 
Tripos lists in its abbreviated form D*. 



4 DRAMA TIS PERSONS 

Rosalind, Daughter to tfie Duke. i8 

Celia, Daughter to Frederick. 

Phoebe, a Shepherde/s. 20 

Audrey, a Country Wench, 

Lords belonging to the two DukeSy with Pages^ 
ForeJlerSy and other Attendants. 

The Scene lyesfirjl near Oliver'j Hou/e^ and after- 
wards partly in the Duk^s Courts and partly in 25 
the Forejl ^t/" Arden. 

17. Mar- text] Neil (p. 45) : Martext was peiliaps employed during the Marpre- 
late controversy as a satirical designation for one who could not be expected to give 
such expositions of Scripture as more learned vicars were able to do, with a soupfon 
of puritanical reference to < blind leaders of the blind.' 

18. Rosalind] Fletcher (p. 200) : Few readers may now be aware that RosQ" 
linda is, in truth, a Spanish name, — the adjective Undo or linda having no complete 
synonym in English, but expressing beauty in the most exalted, combined with the 
ordinary sense, — meaning, in short, exquisitely graceful^ beautiful^ and sweet. The 
analogy will at once be seen which the image of the graceful rose bears to the 
exquisite spirit of Rosalind, no less than to her buoyant figure in all its blooming 
charms. 

21. Audrey] Halliwell: <Audry, Sax., it seemeth to be the same with Ethel- 
dred, for the first foundresse of Ely church is so called in Latine histories, but by the 
people of those parts, S. Audry.' — Camden's Remaines, ed. 1629, p. 77. The name 
was occasionally used in Warwickshire in the time of Shakespeare. 'Anno 1603, the 
ix.th of May, Thomas Poole, and Audry Gibbes, were maried.' — Parish Register of 
Aston Cantlowe. Awdrey Turfe is one of the characters in Jonson's Tale of a Tub, 



As you Like it. 




A 6lus primus. Scoena Prima. 



Enter Orlando and Adam. 
Orlando. 

S I remember Adanty it was vpon this fafhion 
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thoufand 
Crownes, and as thou faift , charged my bro- 5 

ther on his bleffing to breed mee well : and 

Scoena] Scena F^F^. Dyce i, Sta. fashum, — he Dyce iii, 

An orchard. Rowe. Oliver's House. Huds. 

Pope. Oliver's Orchard. Theob. Or- 4. nu by\ nu. By Johns, me: By 

chard of Oliver's House. Cap. Steev. 

3. fa/hion] my father Warb. Han. poore a] a poore F,. a poor F^F^, 

Cap. fashion. He Mai. Var. Coll. ii, Rowe + , Cap. Var. Steev. Coll. Sing. 

Ktly. fashion: — Wh. fashion^ — Hal. 

5. Crownes"] Crowns F^F^. 

As you Like it] Tieck, in Schlegel's translation (vol. iv, p. 308) suggests that the 
title of this play, which may have been, he thinks, originally different, was adopted by 
Shakespeare as a playful answer either to Ben Jonson's boastfulness in the Epilogue 
to Cynthia^ s Revels^ or else to his contempt for his audience expressed in the Induc- 
tion to Every Man Out of his Humour, In the former, the Epilogue himself, at a loss 

to know how to characterise the play, bursts forth in the last line with, * By 'tis 

good, and if you like 't you may ;' and in the latter, Asper, the poet, before he leaves 
the stage to take his part as an actor in the performance, says : * Now I go To turn an 
actor, and a humorist. Where, ere I do resume my present person. We hope to make 
the circles of your eyes Flow with distilled laughter : if we fail. We must impute it 
to this only chance, Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance.' Whereto, according to 
Tieck, Shakespeare gives answer in the title to this play : 'As you like it, or, just as 
you please, it is a Comedy. Not in itself, but just as you, the spectators, choose to 
pronounce it by your approval.' * This reference to Ben Jonson,' continues Tieck, 
* can be discerned throughout the whole play by the attentive reader who is familiar 
with the times and with the works of the rival dramatists.' There seems to be no 
foundation for Tieck's surmise ; he overlooked the date of Cynthia's Revels^ which 
was first issued in 1601 ; and in Every Man Out of his Humour^ Jonson in a foot-note 
expressly disclaims any specific allusions either to the author, that is, to himself, or to 
the actors. Lloyd, in Singer's edition, thinks that this title was given in the same 
spirit of idleness that pervades and informs so many of the scenes; 'it seems to 



AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. i. 



Enter Orlando and Adam, 
reply carelessly to such a question as " How shall we entitle it ?" asked by men who 
are fleeting the time after the fashion of the golden world. ** Laud it as you like it," 
it seems to say, or " as you like it allow it," and this is the tenour of the epilogue of 
Rosalind, " I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of 
the play as pleases you," and so with little more strenuousness of exhortation it is left 
to its fate, that could not be other than a kind one.* In the * Epistle Dedicatorie To 
the Gentlemen Readers,' Lodge, referring to his Novel, sajrs : * If you like it, so.' 
This phrase Halliwell surmises may have suggested to Shakespeare the title to the 
play ; and Wright thinks * it can scarcely be doubted ' that it is so. Even if we 
have to yield assent, as I suppose we must, surely a little fretting and fuming may be 
pardoned over this filching, as it were, from Shakespeare of the originality of this title. 
At any rate, the words were changed in the transfer, and As You Like It has a charm 
which to If You Like It is denied — a charm which Shakespeare infused into all th« 
titles of his plays, affording therein a notable contrast to all his contemporaries. 

Furthermore, Halliwell says : < Braithwait, however, in his Bamabys Journal 
speaks of as you like it as a, proverbial motto, and this seems more likely to imply the 
true explanation of the title of Shakespeare's play. The title of the comedy may, on 
this supposition, be exactly paralleled with that of Muck Ado about Nothing. The 
proverbial title of the play implies that freedom of thought and indifference to cen- 
sure which characterizes the sayings and doings of most of the actors in this comedy 
of human nature in a forest.' It is well to remember that Bamab/s Journal was 
not printed until 1648-50; in it drunken Bamaby' finds the shop where 'OfHcina 
juncta Baccho Juvenilem fere tobacco " Uti libet," tunc signata. Quae impressio nunc 
mutata, " Uti fiet," nota certa Quae delineatur charta.' Which is thus translated : *A 
shop neighboring near lacco, WTiere Young vends his old tobacco : "As you Like it ;" 
sometime sealed. Which impression's since repealed : "As you make it ;" he will have 
it, And in chart and font engrave it.' — p. 57, ed. 1805. — Ed. 

3. The abruptness of this opening sentence, and the need of a nominative to be 
understood before ' charged ' have occasioned some discussion, and several emenda- 
tions. Warburton pronounces the whole sentence as it stands * confused and obscure.* 
But the < very small alteration in the reading and pointing ' which he is about to give 
will * set all right.* It is this : — *As I remember, Adam, it was upon this my father 
bequeathed me,' &c. * The grammar,' continues Warburton, * is now rectified and 
the sense also ; which is this : Orlando and Adam were discoursing together on the 
cause why the younger brother had but a thousand crowns left him. They agree upon 
it ; and Orlando opens the scene in this manner — ^** As I remember, it was upon this, 
i. e. for the reason we have been talking of, that my father left me but a thousand 
crowns ; however, to make amends for this scanty provision, he charged my brother, 
on his blessing, to breed me well." * This emendation Capell adopted with unwonted 
alacrity, and asserted [Notes, i, 54) that there never was one more certain ; seeing that 
* it is pointed out and confirmed by the context in so plain a manner as to need no 
enforcing : The words " upon this " relate (probably) to some over-spirited action of 
Orlando's first youth, that displeas'd his father, and occasion'd the bequest that is 
spoken of, and the injunction concerning his breeding : a hint of it was proper ; more 
than a hint had been injudicious, as being foreign to the business in hand.' * There 
is,' says Johnson, * nothing but a point misplaced and an omission of a word which 
every hearer can supply, and which therefore an abrupt and eager dialogue naturally 
excludes. I read thus : "As I remember, Adam, it was on this fashion bequeathed 



ACTI. sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 



[this fashion bequeathed . . . charged] 
me. By will, but a poor thousand crowns ; and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, 
on his blessing, to breed me well." What is there in this difficult or obscure ? The 
nominative my father is certainly left out, but so left out that the auditor inserts it, in 
spite of himself.' Sir William Blackstone pronoimced Dr Johnson's reading 
' awkward English,' and preferred to read thus : <As I remember, Adam, it was in 
this fashion. — ^^He bequeathed me by will," &c. Orlando and Adam enter abruptly 
in the midst of a conversation on this topic ; and Orlando is correcting some misap- 
prehension of the other. As / remember, sa3rs he, it was thus. He left me a thou- 
sand crowns ; and, as thou sayest^ charged my brother,' &c. This same reading of 
Blackstone was also proposed by Ritson (p. 57) with, however, a different punctua- 
tion : — < it was on this fashion he bequeathed me by will,' &c. * From the near resem- 
blance,' says Heath, p. 143, * between " fashion " and father^ it seems extremely 
probable that this last word was the word omitted, which led in consequence to the 
omission also of the possessive my. Read, therefore, <*As I remember, Adam, it waa 
upon this fashion ; my father bequeathed me," &c.' Caldecott is satisfied with what 
he terms ' the following easy and natural interpretation : ** It was upon this fashion 
bequeathed me by [my father in his] will, &c., and, as thou say'st [it was, or he there] 
charged my brother," ' &c. But it is not a question of interpretation ; on that score the 
passage is perfectly plain, it is simply a question of gnunmatical construction; as 
Lettsom says (ap. Dyce, ed. iii) from the use of * it was ' before * bequeathed ' and 
' charged,' it is impossible to say whether these two words are aorists or past parti- 
ciples ; if they are past participles we have no antecedent for the < his ' in * his bless- 
ing ' ; if they are aorists a nominative is lacking to either the one or the other. Dycb 
(ed. iii) sa3rs that as ' fashion ' is the last word of the line, he has little doubt that * he ' 
was omitted by a mistake of the compositor, wherein the present editor agrees with 
him, especially when it is remembered how easy would have been the omission if ' he ' 
were expressed, as it often is, by the single letter, ' a.' At the same time, it is not to 
be forgotten that the nominative is sometimes omitted where it can be readily supplied 
from the context, as here. — See Ham. II, ii, 67 ; Mer. of Ven. I, i, 102, or Abbott, 
§ 399 —Ed. 

4. poore a] Caldecott (and Dyce, ed. ii, cites the passage presiunably with 
approval) : A is one^ a number. Suppose then the bequest had been two or five or 
ten, you see how insufferable would be this expression, * ten poor thousand crowns.' 
But further—* a thousand crowns ' are words of the Will, which the speaker quotes ; 
and thereby makes them, as 'twere, a substantive to his adjective < poor.' Cf. Ant. &* 
Cleop. V, ii, 236 ; * What poor an instrument May do a noble deed.* [There is, how- 
ever, no necessity for explaining the construction as a quotation from the Will. Words- 
worth (p. 12) points out a similar use in the Bible of the indefinite article prefixed 
to plural substantives. Thus in] Luke ix, 28, we read, *■ It came to pass about an 
eight days after these sayings,' where the expression * an eight days ' has been retained 
from Tyndale's trans, in 1534. In like manner, in the Apocryphal Book, I Mace, iv, 
15 : * There were slain of them upon a three thousand men.' Wright and Rolfs 
apparently regard < poor ' as a simple adjective, and the present case as an instance of 
the common transposition of the article, and refer to Abbott, § 422 ; but Abbott him- 
self refers this passage to § 85, and considers * poor ' as used adverbially ; which is 
perhaps a little strained. To me the simplest explanation would be to consider it as 
a transposition not of the article but of the adjective, for the sake of greater empha- 
sis ; which is, after all, practically the same as Wright's and Rolfe's explanation.— Ed. 



8 AS VOC/ LIKE IT [act i, sc. i. 

there begins my fadneffe : My brother laques he keepes 7 

at fchoole, and report fpeakes goldenly of his profit : 
for my part^he keepes me ruftically at home, or (to fpeak 
more properly) ftaies me heere at home vnkept : for call 10 

you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that dif- 
fers not from the flailing of an Oxe ? his horfes are bred 
better, for befides that they are faire with their feeding, 
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders 
deerely hir'd : but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder 15 

7. /adnejfe /] sadness. Pope et seq. 10. Jlates"] ftayes F^F^. ftays F^. 

stys Warb. Sing. 

7. laques] Apart fVom the fact that in the introduction of this character here and 
at the close of the story Shakespeare merely follows Lodge, there may be found, I 
think, an additional reason for it in the dramatic needs of the Fifth Act. In that Act 
it is needful that we should at once see how the changed fortune of the Senior Duke 
afiects also the fortunes of Oliver and Orlando; and this connection in fortune is 
instantly suggested to us by seeing in Jaques, the messenger of good tidings, a brother 
of the two men in whom we are most interested. That the name Jaques was not only 
given to this character, but retained after the introduction of another and more promi- 
nent Jaques, is a proof either of haste (as Wright ingeniously suggests, and wherein I 
agree) or of careless indifference. But the character itself, a third brother, whatsoever 
his name, was retained, I believe, to meet the requirements of the close of the drama. 
Peihaps, too, it was to meet those same requirements that, in the tender treatment of a 
younger brother by Oliver, and in the latter's capacity to discern the Bne traits in 
Orlando's character, we are to detect the elements of a better nature in Oliver, a soul 
of goodness in things evil, which will need but the refining influence of Celia's love to 
work a satisfactory reformation of his character, and thus go far to obliterate, or at 
least to soften, in this charming play *■ the one smirch ' therein, which Swinburne finds 
in the marriage of Celia and Oliver. — Ed. 

8. schoole] There was apparently no distinction drawn between a School and a 
University. Hamlet went to 'school* in Wittenberg. 

10. stales] Warburton, whose cacoethes meliorandi was, of a truth, insanabihy 
here proposed to substitute stiesy and, with more assurance than logic, asserts that the 
emendation is confirmed by the subsequent allusion to ' stalling of an ox.* Even Dr 
Johnson was overborne, and pronounced sties not only better, but more likely to be 
Shakespeare's word. Mason (p. 80) cogently observes that * if sties had been the 
original reading the subsequent comparison would have been taken from hogs, not 
from oxen.* Dyce in his first edition pronounced Warburton's emendation 'very 
probable,' and asserted that there was * not the slightest force in the objection urged 
against it by Mason,' — a note which Dyce withdrew in his third edition. There is no 
emphasis here, I think, on the word ' stays * ; any emphasis on this word would in 
fact impair the antithesis between < keep ' and * unkept,* which is meant to be of the 
strongest. — ^Ed. 

14. mannage] This good English translation (whereof see many examples in 
Schmidt s. v.) is now, I think, quite lost, and we have returned to its French original, 
wumkge.'—^li. 



ACT I. sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 9 

him but growth, for the which his Animals on his 16 

dunghils are as much bound to him as I : befides this no- 
thing that he fo plentifully giues me, the fomething that 
nature gaue mee, his countenance feemes to take from 
me : hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the 20 

ig.caunt^fMnce^discountenance'SNBxh, 20. Hindes] hinds Y ^, 

Han. 

19. countenance] Warburton reads discountenance; Johnson pronounces the 
change needless, *■ a countenance is either good or bad ;* and here it means, says 
Capell, * an evil countenance.' Caldecott interprets it, < the mode of his carriage 
towards me,' which Dyce cites with approval. Wright gives its meaning as * favour, 
regard, patronage,' and ScHhfiDT as * appearance, deportment.' It is not difficult to 
paraphrase it on these lines, so as to meet the requirements of an expression which 
we all of us almost instinctively understand at once. And yet I cannot but think 
that Walker has here detected a refinement of meaning which has been hitherto 
unobserved. He asks {^Crit. iii, 59): 'Does not "his countenance" here mean 
his entertainment of me^ the style of living which he allows me ? Selden's Table 
Talky art. Fines : " The old law was, that when a man was fined he was to be fined 
salvo contenementOj so as his countenance might be safe, taking countenance in the 
same sense as your countryman does, when he says. If you will come unto my 
house I will show you the best countenance I can ; that is, not the best face, but the 
best entertainment. The meaning of the law was, that so much should be taken 
from a man, such a gobbet sliced off, that yet notwithstanding he might live in the 
same rank and condition he lived in before ; but now they fine men ten times more 
than they are worth." Such, I think, is the meaning of the word in Chaucer, Per- 
sones TaUf Remedium Luxuria : " This maner of women, that observen chastitee, 
must be clene in herte as well as in body and in thought, and mesurable in clothing 
and in contenance^ abstinent in eting and in drinking, in speking and in dede," &c. 
Spenser, Shepheards Calender ^ JEj^. v [1. 81, ed. Grosart] : ** But shepheards (as 
Algrind used to say) Mought not live ylike, as men of the lay : With them it fits to 
care for their heire, Enaunter ther heritage doe impaire; They must provide for 
meanes of maintenaunce, And to continue their wont countenaunce." So understand, 
Faerie Queene, Bk. v, cant, ix [1. 239, ed. Giosart] : " Then was there brought as pris- 
oner to the barre, A Ladie of great coimtenance and place. But that she it with foul 
abuse did marre ;" &c.' Walker also cites an example from Ford, but it is not per- 
fectly clear to me that in this case the meaning is the same ; Dog, a Familiar devil, 
in The Witch of Edmonton^ says to Cuddy Banks (p. 263, ed. Dyce): *Nor will I 
serve for such a silly soul : I am for greatness now, corrupted greatness ; There I'll 
shug in, and get a noble countenance ;' &c. — ^Ed. 

19. seemes] Capell thinks that * we have here another example of that singular 
usage of the conmion verb << seem " which is so conspicuous in ' Macb. I, ii, 46 : ' so 
should he look That seems to speak things strange, and lb. I, v, 27 : < Which fate 
and metaph3rsical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal ;' * in both of which it 
comprehends the idea of desire or intention ; so here " seems to take from me " means 
— seems as if it wished to take from me.' I think this is slightly over-refined. Give 
to 'seem' its common meaning of appear, and is not then the wish or the will 
implied ?— Ed. 



lO 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act I. sc. i. 



place of a brother, and as much as in him h'es, mines my 
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that 
grieues me, and the fpirit of my Father, which I thinke 
is within mee, begins to mutinie againft this feruitude. 
I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wife 
remedy how to auoid it. 

Enter Oliuer, 

Adam. Yonder comes my Mafter,your brother. 

Orlan, Goe a-part Adamy and thou (halt heare how 
he will fliake me vp. 

OIL Now Sir, what make you heere ? 

OrL Nothing : I am not taught to make any thing. 

Olu What mar you then fir ? 

OrL Marry fir , I am helping you to mar that which 
God made , a poore vnworthy brother of yours with 
idleneffe. 

Oliuer, Marry fir be better employed, and be naught 
a while. 



21 



25 



30 



35 



3« 



27. Scene II. Pope + . 

Enter...] After line 30, Coll. et seq. 

29. a-part'\ apart Ff. 

30. Adam retires. Dyce, Coll. ii. 



31. heere f\ heare? F,. here; F^. 



here? F^. 



33» 34- fnar'\ marre F,F,. 
37. be naught"] do aught Han. 
nought Warb. Johns. Cap. 



bi 



20. Hindes] Skeat i^Dict. s. ▼.) : A peasant. The d is excrescent. Anglosaxon 
hlna^ a domestic ; but the word is miauthenticated as a nom. sing., and is rather to be 
considered a gen. pi. ; so that hlna really stands for hlna man «■ a man of the domes* 
tics. [I have heard an Irish farmer in this comitry constantly use the word when 
referring to farm-labourers. — Ed.] 

20. barres] Abbott, § 198: Verbs of ablation, such as bar^ banish^ forbid^ often 
omit the preposition before the place or inanimate object Thus, * We'll bar thee 
from succession.* — Wint. T. IV, iv, 440, or * dy succession * — Cymb. Ill, iii, 102, 
becomes * Bars me the place,* [in the present instance], and also in Mer. of Ven, 
II, i, 20. 

21. mines] Wright: Undermines the gentleness of my birth, and so destroys it 
31. make] Steevens: That is. What do you here? So, in Ham. I, ii, 164. 

Caldecott : We find the same play upon the word between the King and Costard 
in Lovers Lab. L. IV, iii, 190. 

34. Marry] Wright : An exclamation from the name of the Virgin Mary, used as 
an oath. Here it keeps up a poor pun upon * mar.* 

37, 38. be naught a while] Warburton, after a fling at Theobald, says that this is 
a North-country proverbial curse equivalent to a mischief on you. So, Skelton [Agaynste 
A Comely Coystrowne^ 1. 62] * Correct fyrst thy self; walk, and be nought ! Deme 
what thou lyst, thou knowyst not my thought* * Or rather,* says Capell, * Be hang'd 
to you ! for that is now the phrase with the vulgar.* Steevens pronounced Warbur- 



ACT I, sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT ii 

Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with 
them? what prodigall portion haue I fpent,that I ftiould 40 

come to fuch penury ? 

OH. Know you where you are fir ? 

OrL O fir, very well : heere in your Orchard. 

Olu Know you before whom fir ? 

Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee : I 45 

44. whom] home Fj. 45. him"] he Pope + , Cap. Steev. Coll. 

45. /, better] Ay, better Rowe. Sing, Clke, Ktly, Huds. 
45. then] than F^. 

ton's explanation * far-fetched/ and said that the words meant < no more than this : 
" Be content to be a cypher, till I shall think fit to elevate you in consequence." It 
was certainly a proverbial saying, and is fotmd in The Storie of King Darius^ 1565 : 
" Come away, and be nought awhile. Or surely I will you both defyle." ' Johnson, 
until he had learned the meaning from Warbtuton, supposed the phrase to mean : < It 
is better to do mischief than to do nothing.' Whiter affirms that the meaning is 
manifestly : ^Retire^ — begone^ or as we now say in a kind of quaint, colloquial lan- 
guage, make yourself scarce^ — vanish^ — vote yourself an evanescent quantity* GiF- 
FORD, in a note on Jonson's Bartholomew Fair (p. 421, where the phrase *be curst 
awhile ' occurs), lashes, of course, Steevens and Malone (' from Mr Whiter,' he sighs, 
< better things might be expected '), and then states that < the explanation of Warbur- 
ton is as correct as it is obvious, and may be proved <* by witnesses more than my pack 
will hold." It will be sufficient to call two or three : " Peace and be naught I I 
think the woman be phrensic " — Tale of a Tub [II, i, p. 160] ; " If I stir a foot, 
bang me; you shall come together yourselves, and be naught" — Greenes Tu Quoque 
[p. 206, ed. Hazlett]. It is too much, perhaps,' he continues, < to say that the words 
" an hour," " awhile," are pure expletives, but it is sufficiently apparent that they have 
no perceptible influence on the exclamations to which they are subjoined. To con- 
clude, be naughty hanged^ curst^ &c. with, or without an hour, a white, wherever found, 
bear invariably one and the same meaning ; they are, in short, petty and familiar male- 
dictions, and cannot be better rendered than in the words of Warburton — a plague, or 
a mischief on you !* Dyce (Remarks, p. 60) : Since the origin of verbal criticism, 

nothing more satisfactory has been written than the copious note of Gifford 

The first part of Warburton's note is wrong ; the expression was certainly not confined 
to the * North country.* 

40. prodigall portion] This may be a case of prolepsis ; that is, ' what portion 
have I prodigally spent ;' thus also * the gentle condition of blood * in line 46, * the 
condition of gentle blood,* or as in *two weak evils, age and hunger,* II, vii, 138, 
and elsewhere. Schmidt's Lexicon (p. 1420) gives many instances. Or, since the 
allusion is so clear to the Parable, it might be possibly the genitive of apposition, and 
equivalent to 'what prodigal's portion have I spent;' in this case the two words 
should be joined by a hyphen. — Ed. 

45. him] For other examples of where * him ' is put for he, by attraction to whom 
understood, see Abbott, § 208. Here the * whom * precedes so closely that it might 
be almost termed a case of attraction through proximity. 

45, &c. The emphasis here is, I think : */ know you are my eldest brother, &c., 



12 AS VOC/ LIKE IT [act i, sc. i. 

know you are my eldeft brother, and in the gentle con- 46 

dition of bloud you fhould fo know me : the courtefie of 
nations allowes you my better , in that you are the firft 
borne, but the fame tradition takes not away my bloud, 
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs : I haue as much 50 

of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confeffe your com- 
ming before me is neerer to his reuerence. 

OIL What Boy. rthis. 

Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in 54 

47. me .•] me. Johns. ^2^- ^^1 ^^> — Cap. 

50. vs:"] us. Pope. 53. menacing him with his hand. 

51. mee^asyaui] me ; cts you^Y^ me^ Johns, strikes at him. Wh. ii. 

as you; F^F^, Rowe et seq. 54. collaring him. Johns, takes him 

51, 52. your. ..reuerence.'] you coming by the throat. Wh. ii. 
before me are nearer to his revenue Han. 

9Xidiyou should so know me.^ * " So ** is here,' says Allen, * equivalent to accordingly, 
in pursuance of the same obligation : if / am to know you as a brother (the eldest), 
you are bound to know me as a brother (the youngest).* According to Wordsworth 
(p. 36), * know ' is used here in the biblical sense of ctcknowledge. 

52. reuerence] Warburton : That is. The * reverence * due to my father is, in 
some degree, derived to you as the first-bom. But I am persuaded that Orlando did 
not here mean to compliment his brother or condemn himself; something of both 
which there is in that sense. I rather think he intended a satirical reflection on his 
brother, who by letting him feed with his hinds treated him as one not so nearly 
related to old Sir Robert [sic] as himself was. I imagine, therefore, Shakespeare might 
write : Albeit your coming before me is nearer his revenue^ i. e. though you are no 
nearer in blood, yet it must be owned, indeed, you are nearer in estate. Capell 
highly approved of this emendation, and added that < Oliver's taking fire as he does, 
which gives occasion to his brother to collar him, was caused by something in the tail 
of this speech that gave him offence ; and this he could not find in the submissive 
word " reverence." * Whiter : Orlando uses the word in an ironical sense, and 
means to say that his ' brother by coming before him is nearer to a respectable and 
venerable elder of a family.* The phrase His reverence is still thus ironically 
applied, though with somewhat of a different meaning, and we frequently use the 
expression your worships both with a grave and ludicrous signification nearly in the 
same manner. This sense will account for the anger of Oliver, and for the words 
which they mutually retort upon each other respecting their ages in the next two 
lines. It is extremely curious that Shakespeare has caught many words, and even 
turns of expression, belonging to the novel from which the play is taken ; though he 
has applied them in a mode generally different and often very remote fix>m the orig- 
inal. This has certainly taken place in the present instance, and the passage which 
contains it will likewise supply us with another example. Rosader or Orlando is 
introduced making his reflections on the indignities which be bad suffered from his 
brother Saladine or Oliver. 'As he was thus ruminating his melancholy passions, in 
came Saladine with his men, and seeing his brother in a brown study and to forget 
his wonted retference^ thought to shake him out of his dumps.* Orlando says in 



ACT I. sc.i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 13 

Olu Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine? 55 

OrL I am no villaine : I am the yongeft fonne of Sir 
Rowland de BoySy he was my father, and he is thrice a vil- 
laine that faies fuch a father begot villaines : wert thou 
not my brother , I would not take this hand from thy 
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for faying 60 

fo, thou haft raild on thy felfe. 

Adam. Sweet Mafters bee patient , for your Fathers 
remembrance, be at accord. 

Oli. Let me goe I fay. 

OrL I will not till I pleafe : you (hall heare mee ; my 65 

&ther charged you in his will to giue me good educati- 
on : you haue train'd me like a pezant, obfcuring and 67 

57. Boys] Rowe+i Cap. Mai. CaxxL 62. Adam.] Adam (coming forward) 

Rife, Wh. ii. Boyes Ff. B<ns Steev. CoU. Dyce, Sta. 

ct cct. 62. Ma/iers] Mafter Ff, Rowe. 

60. ptdd'l puird FjF^. 67. fne] me up FjF^, Rowe + . 

tl.fo^fo; F^. so. (shaking him) pe%afU\ pea/ant Y ^, 
CoU. ii. 

Shakespeare : ' Go apart, Adam, and thou shall hear how he will sfmke me up.' [It 
is evidently the irony in the tone, whatever the word, which inflames Oliver; as 
Whiter shows, that word may well be * reverence.' — Ed.] 

53. Boy] Coleridge (p. 7) : There is a beauty here. The word * boy ' naturally 
provokes and awakens in Orlando the sense of his manly powers ; and with the retort 
of ' elder brother,' he grasps him with firm hands and makes him feel he is no boy. 

54. Staunton : The obscurity in this line is at once cleared up by a passage in the 
original story : * Though I am eldest by birth, yet, never having attempted any deeds 
of arms, I tasi youngest to perform any martial exploits.' Stimg by the sarcastic allu- 
sion to his reverence, Oliver attempts to strike his brother, who seizes him, observing at 
the same time, ' You are too young at this game of manly prowess ; in this, I am the 
elder.' Neil : This play upon words has more in it than meets the ear. *■ Elder ' 
not only means ' one bom before another,' but also the name of the plant Sambucus, 
the elder-tree or ald^-tree, Hit pith of which is large, light, and little worth. Hence 
the Host calls Dr Caius contemptuously *my heart of elder' — Merry Wives, H, iii, 
3 — as equal to ' faint-hearted one.' There was also a tradition * Judas was hanged on 
an elder' — [Lov^s Lab. Z., V, ii, 610), and from this it became suggestive of treach- 
ery and deceit. The phrase therefore signifies, < My faint-hearted, deceitful first-bom 
brother, you are too young (you give me a title betokening rather fewer years than I 
have attained to) in this epithet '* boy !" ' [The action here is so distinctly set forth 
that stage directions, and some editors have inserted them, are wholly superfluous, if 
not intrusive.— Ed.] 

55. villaine] Johnson : This word is used by Oliver in its present meaning for a 
worthless, wicked, or bloody man ; by Orlando in its original signification, for a fellow 
of base extraction. 

67, 68. obscuring . . . qualities] Allen (MS) : < Qualities ' is equivalent to qual- 



14 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. i. 

hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities : the fpirit 68 

of my father growes ftrong in mee, and I will no longer 
endure it : therefore allow me fuch exercifes as may be- JO 

come a gentleman , or giue mee the poore allottery my 
father left me by teftament, with that I will goe buy my 
fortunes. 

OH. And what wilt thou do ? beg when that is fpent? 
Well fir , get you in . I will not long be troubled with 75 

you : you fhall haue fome part of your will , I pray you 
leaue me. 

OrL I will no further offend you, then becomes mee 
for my good. 

OH. Get you with him, you olde dogge. 80 

Adam. Is old dogge my reward : moft true , I haue 
loft my teeth in your feruice : God be with my olde ma- 
tter, he would not haue fpoke fuch a word. Ex. Orl. Ad. 

OH. Is it euen fo, begin you to grow vpon me ? I will 84 

68. from fm'] me from Pope, Han. iii. 

74. do? beg\ do— beg? — Dyce iii. 83. Scene III. Pope+. 

79. good^ good, (releasing him) Coll. 84. /^,J so f Rowc. 

ificatians. Perhaps : obscuring {ca^il^uv) [in me] my own gentlemanlike qualities, 
and hiding from me those, which I might see and imitate, from without (f. e, in the 
persons of others). Cf. / Hen, VI: V, i, 22, * Yoa have suborned this man Of pur- 
pose to obscure my noble birth.' Hen, V: I, i, 63, 'And so the Prince obscured bis 
contemplation Under the veil of wildness.' 

74, 75. thou . . . you] Throughout this quarrel between the brothers, and through- 
out the subsequent conference between Oliver and Charles, it is worth while to observe, 
and to appreciate if we can, the use of < thou ' and < you,' which appears, at first sight, 
to be almost indiscriminate. Skeat's admirable and general rule, given in his Prefaa 
to William of Paleme^ p. xlii, and cited in this edition at 0th. II, ii, 275, and at 
Mer. of Ven. I, ii, 35, should be borne in mind : *Thou is the language of a lord to 
a servant, of an equal to an equal, and expresses also companionship, love, permission, 
defiance, scorn, threatening ; whilst ye is the language of a servant to a lord, and of 
compliment, and further expresses honour, submission, entreaty.' Abbott, § 235, says 
that in almost all cases some change of thought or some influence of euphony may be 
detected which will prove sufficient to account for a change of pronoun ; and further- 
more (§ 232), when the appellative * sir ' is used even in anger, thou generally gives 
place to you. It is well worth while to ponder the varying shades of emotion thus 
indicated here. — Ed. 

76. will] Is there not a contemptuous emphasis on this word, which may bear a 
double meaning, in its reference to their father's Will which Orlando had invoked ? 
In a modem text, I think, it might well be printed with quotation-marks.— Ed. 

84. grow] Collier (ed. i) : This is probably right, in reference to the < rankness ' 
mentioned in the next line ; but it has been suggested to me, that possibly Shakespeare 



ACT I, sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 15 

phyficke your ranckenefle, and yet giue no thoufand 85 

crownes neyther : holla Dennis. 

Enter Dennis. 

Den. Calls your worfhip / 

OH, Was not Oiarles the Dukes Wraftler heere to 
fpeake with me? 90 

Den. So pleafe you, he is heere at the doore, and im- 
portunes accefle to you. 

OH. Call him in : 'twill be a good way : and to mor- 
row the wraftling is. 

Enter Charles. 95 

Cha. Good morrow to your worfhip. 

OH. Good Mounfier Charles : what's the new newes 
at the new Court? 98 

89. WraftUr\ WraftU F^. Wrestler 93. Exit Dennis. Johns, et seq. 

Rowe. 

wrote, ^ growl w^n me/ following up the simile of the *• old dog/ which Oliver had just 
applied to Adam. [It is scarcely worth while to do more than to record this emenda- 
tion, which Halliwell has adequately estimated by remarking that growl would refer 
to Adam, whereas this speech clearly refers to Orlando. Wright interprets * grow 
upon * by encroach^ and cites Jul. Cas. II, i, 107 : * Here, as I point my sword, the 
sun arises. Which is a great way growing on the south.' Haluwell paraphrases x 
' to increase in disobedience to my authority.' I think it means simply that Oliver is 
beginning to find out that Orlando is growing too big on his hands to be treated any 
longer like a boy. Neil, however, asserts that * grow * is * a provincialism for swell, 
become sulky, murmur, repine.* — Ed.] 

85. ranckenesse] Wright : Luxuriant growth, exuberance ; hence, insolence. 

89. Wrastler] The pronunciation, as indicated by this spelling, is still general 
among the common people in this country, as will at once occur to all who have read 
—and who has not ? — Bret Harte's * Luck of Roaring Camp.' — Ed. 

97. Good] In one of Walker's excellent articles, which he rather infelicitously 
names * Omission by Absorption,' it b suggested (Cril. ii, 263) that the text here 
should be * Good morrow, monsieur Charles,' &c. I think there can be no doubt of 
it The morrow, however, was not * absorbed,' but omitted altogether ; the compos- 
itor's eye was misled by the ' morrow * directly above in the preceding line. — ^Ed. 

97. Charles :] Capell {Notes, 55) says that the true punctuation here is a note 
of admiration, and then * the force of the speech, duly pronounced, will be : " Ah, 
good monsieur Charles ! are you here ? — ^Well, what's the," &c.* 

98. new Court] I mistrust this ' new.' If Oliver was aware that there was a 
' new ' court, Charles's information that the old duke had been banished (which fact 
had created the 'new court') would have been quite superfluous, and he would 
scarcely have referred to this banishment as * old news.* Moreover, in repeating a 
question he who is questioned naturally repeats the very words. Charles's failure, in 
the text, to do this when he repeats Oliver's question, not only casts an additional 



i6 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. i. 

Charles. There^s no newes at the Court Sir, but the 
olde newes : that is, the old Duke is banifhed by his yon- 100 
ger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing 
Lords haue put themfelues into voluntary exile with 
him , whofe lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke , 
therefore he giues them good leaue to wander. 

OIL Can you tell \{ Rofalind the Dukes daughter bee 10$ 
banifhed with her Father ? 

Cha, O no ; for the Dukes daughter her Cofen fo 
loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, 
that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to 
ftay behind her ; fhe is at the Court, and no leffe beloued I lO 
of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two La- 
dies loued as they doe. 

OIL Where will the old Duke Hue ? 

Oia. They fay hee is already in the Forreft oi Arden, 1 14 

X02. into] into a F^F^, Rowe. 107. Dukes'] new Duk^s Han. Warb. 

103. reuenues] vevenues F^. Johns. Cap. Coll. iii. 
105. Dukes] old Duk^s Han. Johns. 109. hee] he F,. Jhe F^F^ et seq. 

CoU. iii. her] their FjF^, Rowe. 

suspicion on < new/ as I think, bat also suggested to Lettsom (ap. Dyce, ed. iii) to 
ask : * Ought we not to read, There's no new news, &c. ?'— Ed. 

105, 107. Dukes] Hanmer's emendation (see Text. Notes), which is also found 
in Collier's (MS), met with Johnson's approval as * necessary to the perspicuity of the 
dialogue,' and Dyce also considered it * highly probable that Shakespeare so wrote.* 
But in Malone's opinion the change is ' unnecessary ; the ambiguous use of the word 
** duke '* in these passages is much in Shakespeare's manner.' Heath, also, disap- 
proved of the change, ' which could proceed only from an itch of emendation. The 
words which follow, " her cousin," sufficiently distinguish the person intended.' Un- 
questionably, Hanmer's emendation makes the passage clearer, but, I think, any edi- 
tor now-a-days would be * temerarious ' who shoidd adopt it. — Ed. 
109. hee] A misprint easily detected. 

109, no. to stay] That is, in staying behind her. See II, vii, 182; III, v, 66; 
V, ii, 103 ; also, for this indefinite use of the infinitive, Abbott, § 356, and Shake- 
speare passim, 

114. Forrest of Arden] M alone: Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent in 
French Flanders, lying near the Meuse and between Charlemont and Rocroy. It is 
mentioned by Spenser in his Astrophel [1596, line 93, ed. Grosart] : < Into a forest 
wide, and waste he came Where store he heard to be of saluage pray. So wide a 
forest and so waste as this, Nor famous Ardeyn, nor fowle Arlo is.* But our author 
was furnished with the scene of his play by Lxxige's Novel. [The foregoing passage 
from Spenser, Malone cited as from Colin Clouts Come home againe. The citations 
by the earlier editors have to be so frequently corrected that I never think it worth 
while to call attention to the trifling and venial misprints, which nevertheless do seem 



ACT I, sc L] AS YOU LIKE IT 17 

[114. Forrest of Arden] 
to have a mission when, as in the present case, they mislead subsequent editors, who, 
having ' conveyed ' without acknowledgement the learning of their predecessors, stand 
betrayed by the adoption of errors. In the present instance there is abundant excuse 
for Malone. The running title of Aitropkel is, as Grosart has pointed out, through a 
printer's error, Colin Clouts Come home againe. — Ed.] Knight : Nothing can more 
truly show how immeasurably superior was the art of Shakespeare to the art of other 
poets than the comparison of Lodge's description [see Appendix] with the incidental 
scene-painting of his forest of Arden. It has been truly and beautifully said {Edin, 
Rev, vol. xxviii) of Shakespeare : *A11 his excellences, like those of Nature herself, 
ve thrown out together, and, instead of interfering, support and recommend each 
other. His flowers are not tied up in garlands, nor his fruits crushed into baskets, 
but spring living from the soil, in all the dew and freshness of youth.' But there are 
critics of another cast, who object to Shakespeare's forest of Arden, situated, as they 
hold, *■ between the rivers Metise and Moselle.' They maintain that its geographical 
position ought to have been known by Shakespeare, and that he is consequently most 
vehemently to be reprehended for imagining that a palm-tree could flourish, and a 
lioness be starving, in French Flanders. We most heartily wish that the critics would 
allow poetry to have its own geography. We do not want to know that Bohemia has 
no sea-board ; we do not wish to have the island of Sycorax defined on the map ; we 
do not require that our forest of Arden should be the Arduenna Sylva of Csesar and 
Tacitus, and that its rocks should be ' clay-slate, grauwacke-slate, grauwacke, con- 
glomerate, quartz-rock and quartzose sandstone.' We are quite sure that Ariosto was 
thinking nothing of French Flanders when he described how * two fountaines grew. 
Like in the tast, but in effects unlike. Placed in Ardenna^ each in other's vew : Who 
tasts the one, love's dart his heart doth strike ; G)ntrary of the other doth ensew. Who 
drinke thereof, their lovers shall mislike ' [i, st. 78, ed. 1634]. We are equally sure 
that Shakespeare meant to take his forest out of the region of the literal when he 
assigned to it a palm-tree and a lioness. Lady Morgan tells us, ' The forest of Ardennes 
smells of early English poetry. It has all the g^reenwood freshness of Shakespeare's 
scenes ; and it is scarcely possible to feel the truth and beauty of his exquisite As You 
Like It without having loitered, as I have done, amidst its tangled glens and mag- 
nificent depths.' We must venture to think it was not necessary for Shakespeare to 
visit Ardennes to have described <An old oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age. 
And high top bald with dry antiquity;' and that, although his own Warwickshire 
Arden is now populous, and we no longer meet there *■ a desert inaccessible,' there are 
fifty places in England where, with the As You Like It in hand, one might linger 
* from noon to dewy eve,' and say, *Ay, now am I in Arden.' Fran(;ois-Victor 
Hugo (p. 54) : Apercevez-vous au bout dc cette clairiire cette for^t profonde dont 
I'automne dore les cimes m61ancoliques ? C'est la forfit des Ardennes! Mais ne 
vous y trompez pas, ce n'est pas la forfit historique \ travers laquelle la Meuse conduit 
i la derive le touriste charm6. Vous ne trouverez dans ces halliers ni le manoir 
d'Herbeumont, ni le ch&teau-fort de Bouillon, ni la grotte de Saint-Remacle. La 
for^t od nous transporte le po^te n'a pas d'itin6raire connu; aucune caite routi^re n'en 
fait mention, aucun gtographe ne I'a d6frich6e. — C'est la forftt vierge de la Mtise. 
EUe rassemble dans sa p^pini^re unique toutcs les vegetations connues : le sapin dn 
Nord s'y croise avec le pin du Midi, le chfine y coudoie le c^dre, le houx s'y accli- 
mate i I'ombre du palmier. Dans scs taillis antediluviens I'Arche a vide toute sa 
menagerie; le serpent de Tlnde rampe dans les hautes herbes qu'effloure le daim 



i8 AS YOU LIKE IT [act I, sc. i. 

[114, Forrest of Arden] 
efTar^ ; le rugissement de la lionne y fait envoler un essaim de cerfs. — Li la guerre et 
la vanity humaines n'ont jamais k\.h admises d b&tir leurs demeures : li, ni palais ni 
forteresses. Tout au plus, sur la lisidre du bois, quelque humble toil de chaume. 
[Halliwell notes Drayton's reference, in his Fifty-third Idea^ to * Where nightingales 
in Arden sit and sing, Amidst the dainty dew-impearl^d flowers,' and * to " the rough 
woodlands" of Arden described in Poly-Olbion.' But this description in Po/y-Olbian 
seems to me far more noteworthy than is the bare mention of the name as it occurs in 
the Id^a ; the mere name Arden is to be found in other Id^as as well as in the Fifty- 
third. The first hundred and fifty lines, more or less, of the Thirteenth Song of Poly- 
Olbian are devoted to a description of the Forest of Arden in Warwickshire, and on 
this description Drayton dwells with especial affection, apostrophising Warwickshire 
as his own * native country which so brave spirits hast bred.' Is this a gentle nod of 
recognition to Shakespeare ? The Song then goes on to say that of all the forests in 
Britain, this is the greatest, and that *■ We equally partake with wood-land as with 
plain, AUke with hill and dale ; and every day maintain The sundry kinds of beasts 
upon our copious wastes That men for profit breed, as well as those of chase.* Here 
all birds are to be found, the * throstel, with shrill sharps,* * the nightingale hard by,' 
' the woosel near at hand, that hath a golden bill ;' and here also are ' both sorts of 
seasoned deer; Here walk the stately red, the freckled fallow there : The bucks and 
lusty stags amongst the rascals strew' d. As sometimes gallant spirits amongst the mul- 
titude.* A hunt is then described, horns are sounded and the hunters cheer, and 

* being then imbost, the noble stately deer WTien he hath gotten ground (the kennel 
cast arrear) Doth beat the brooks and ponds for sweet refreshing soil,' imtil at last, 

* opprest by force. He who the mourner is to his own dying corse. Upon the ruthless 
earth his precious tears lets fall.' But this is not all, everything which sorts with 
solitude is to be found here. The hermit here * leads a sweet retired life,* * From the 
lothsome airs of smoky-citied towns.' * Suppose twixt noon and night, the sun his 
halfway wrought,' * the hermit comes out of his homely cell,' * Who in the strength of 
youth, a man at arms hath been ; Or one who of this world, the vileness having seen. 
Retires him fix)m it quite ; and with a constant mind Man's beastliness so loaths, that, 
flying human kind. The black and darksome nights, the bright and gladsome days, 
Indiflerent are to him.' * This man, that is alone a king in his desire. By no proud 
ignorant lord is basely over-aw'd ;' * nor of a pin he weighs What fools, abused kings, 
and humorous ladies raise.* * Nor stirs it him to think on the imposter vile, WTao 
seeming what he's not, doth sensually beguile The sottish purblind world ; but, abso- 
lutely free. His happy time he spends the works of God to see.* I have given these 
extracts from Drayton, to which I am not aware that attention has ever been called, not 
only to show the deep impression on him which his friend Shakespeare's As You Like 
It had made, so that we seem to hear the very echo of the words of Jaques and of the 
Duke, but to show that to Drayton as well as to every listener at the play the * Forest 
of Arden * was no forest in far-away France, but was the enchanted ground of their 
own home. That Shakespeare intended it to be so regarded, and meant to keep his 
audience at home, no matter in what foreign country soever the scene be laid, may be 
detected, I think, in the allusion to * Robin Hood,' a name around which clustered all 
the romance of forest life. Let that name be once uttered as a key-note, and every 
charm of a life under the greenwood tree, be it in the forest of Sherwood or of Arden, 
is summoned up and the spell of the mighty magician bcgins.-ȣD.] 



ACT I, sc. i.] yiS YOU LIKE IT 19 

» 

and a many merry men with him ; and there they Hue 1 1 5 
like the old Robin Hood of England*, they fay many yong 
Gentlemen flocke to him euery day , and fleet the time 
carelefly as they did in the golden world. 

OH. What , you wraftle to morrow before the new 
Duke. 120 

Cha. Marry doe I fir : and I came to acquaint you 
with a matter : I am giuen fir fecretly to vnderftand, that 
your yonger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come 
in difguis'd againft mee to try a fall : to morrow fir I 
wraftle for my credit , and hee that efcapes me without 125 
fome broken limbe, fhall acquit him well : your brother 
is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee 
loth to foyle him, as I muft for my owne honour if hee 128 

121. came] come F^, Rowe, Pope, Han. 

115. a many] For many other instances of the insertion of a before numeral 
^jectives, see Abbott, § 87. 

115, 116. and there . . . England] Schmidt, in his admirable revision of 
SchlegePs translation, thus translates this sentence : * und da leben sie wie Zigeuner- 
volk/ Few examples could better illustrate than this how emphatically, how in- 
eradicably, Shakespeare belongs to England, and how impossible it is to transplant 
him to any foreign soil. Surely never a foreigner lived who better mastered the lan- 
guage of Shakespeare than he to whom we all owe gratitude for the Shakespeare- 
Lexicon^ and yet on his ears the name Robin Hood falls with a dull, unmeaning 
sound ; and all that band of merry men, who * in summer-time when leaves grow 
green. And flowers are fresh and gay,' with Will Scarlet and Little John fleeted the 
time carelessly^ — all this band, the gods of every English-speaking boy's idolatry and 
summed up in the one name Robin Hood, is to the learned Gennan merely ' a band 
of gypsies.' — Ed. 

117. fleet] Wright notes this as 'an instance of Shakespeare's habit of forming 
verbs from adjectives,' and RoLFE says that it is only here used transitively by Shake- 
speare, though as * an intransitive verb it occurs often.* [Way {^Prompt. Parv. s. v. 
Fletyn) cites Harrison, who in his Description 0/ England, says * the Lime water .... 
which conuneth .... from the hils, fleting upon rockie soil, .... so falleth into the 
sea.' — Holinsh. Chron. i, 58. Halliwell says that a vessel is said to fleet when the 
tide flows sufficiently to enable her to move. Is it too fanciful to suppose that in 
the use of this word in this particular passage, where a gay, careless, happy life flows 
on from hour to hour without a ripple of aimoyance, there was in Shakespeare's 
mind a dim association between this word to fleets and the meaning to floaty to 
yjiw/— Ed.] 

122. a matter] For other instances where * a' is used for ' a certain' see Abbott, 
§81. 

126. shall] Abbott, § 315 : That is, must, will have to. Wright refers to V, i, 
14. [See also II, iv, 92.] 



20 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. i. 

come in : therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither 

to acquaint you withall, that either you might ftay him 130 

from his intendment, or brooke fuch difgrace well as he 

fhall runne into , in that it is a thing of his owne fearch , 

and altogether againft my will. 

OH, CkarleSy I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which 
thou fhalt finde I will mod kindly requite : I had my 135 
felfe notice of my Brothers purpofe heerein,and haue by 
vnder-hand meanes laboured to diflwade him from it ; 
but he is refolute. He tell thee CharleSy it is the ftubbor- 
neft yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious 
emulator of euery mans good parts, a fecret & villanous 140 
contriuer againft mee his naturall brother : therefore vfe 
thy difcretion, I had as liefe thou didft breake his necke 
as his finger. And thou wert beft looke to't ; for if thou 
doft him any flight difgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie 
grace himfelfe on thee, hee will pra6life againft thee by 145 
poyfon, entrap thee by fome treacherous deuife, and ne- 
uer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by fome indirefl 
meanes or other : for I aflure thee , ( and almoft with 
teares I fpeake it) there is not one fo young, and fo vil- 
lanous this day liuing. I fpeake but brotherly of him, 150 

137. him\ them F^. 146. entrap] to entrap F^F^, Rowe. 

138. ne] /F^F^, Rowe + . 150. liuing.'] livings Var. '21. 

130. withall] Abbott, § 196: Sometimes this is understood after 'withal,' so that 
it means tuith all this, and is used adverbially : < So glad of this as they, I cannot be, 
"^Tio are surprised withal * — Temp. Ill, i, 93, i. e, surprised with, or at, this. Here, 
however, perhaps, and elsewhere certainly, with means in addition tOy and ' te^^-all 
(this) * means besides ; as in, < I must have liberty withal,' II, vii, 51 [of this present 
play, and also in * Marry, do, to make sport withal,* in I, ii, 26.] But [in the present 
line] there is no meaning of besides and * withal ' means therewith, with it. 

138. He tell thee] The same phrase occurs in IV, i, 206; and Lettsom questions 
if it be not here a blunder for / tell thee. Dyce : It is not a blunder. 

138. it is] The use of this impersonal phrase may be as various as the mood of 
man. Here, as Wright points out, its import is contemptuous. In * It is a pretty 
youth,' III, V, 118, there is a touch of coquettish familiarity. — Ed. 

141. naturall] Halliwell: This term did not formerly, as now, imply illegiti- 
macy. *Filius naturalis, a natural or lawfully-begotten son.' — Nomenclator, 1585. 

142. breake his necke] See the Tale of Gamelyn, in Appendix. 

143. thou wert best] See Abbott, § 230, for tliis and other * imgrammatical rem- 
nants of ancient usage.' 

145. practise] Dyce : To use arts or stratagems, to plot. 



Acri.sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 2X 

but fhould I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I mufl 151 
blufh, and weepe, and thou mud looke pale and 
wonder. 

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you : if hee 
come to morrow, He giue him his payment : if euer hee 155 
goe alone againe. He neuer wraftle for prize more : and 
fo God keepe your worfhip. Exit, 

Farewell good Charles. Now will I ftirre this Game- 
fter : I hope I fhall fee an end of him ; for my foule (yet 
I know not why>^ hates nothing more then he : yet hee's 160 
gentle, neuer fchoolM, and yet learned, full of noble 

151. anathomize] anatomise F^F^. 158. FareiveW] Oli. Farewell Ff et 

157. Exit. Rowe. After Charles, line seq. 

158, O^. Dyce, Cam. Wh. ii. 160. he] him Han. Johns. 

153. wonder] MacDonald (p. 126) : If any one wishes to see what variety of 
the some kind of thoughts Shakespeare could produce, let him examine the treatment 
of the same business in different plays ; as, for instance, the way in which the insti- 
gation to a crime is managed in Macbeth^ where Macbeth tempts the two murderers 
to kill Banquo; in King John, where the King tempts Hubert to kill Arthur; in The 
Tempest f where Antonio tempts Sebastian to kill Alonzo ; [the present passage cited] 
and in Hamlet, where Claudius urges Laertes to the murder of Hamlet. 

158 et seq. Coleridge (p. 107) : This has alwajrs seemed to me one of the most 
un-Shakespearian speeches in all the genuine works of our poet ; yet I should be 
nothing surprised, and greatly pleased, to find it hereafter a fresh beauty, as has so 
often happened to me with other supposed defects of great men. — 1 8 10. 

It is too venturous to charge a passage in Shakespeare with want of truth to Nature ; 
and yet at first sight this speech of Oliver's expresses truths which it seems almost 
impossible that any mind should so distinctly, so livelily, and so voluntarily have pre- 
sented to itself, in connection with feelings and intentions so malignant, and so con- 
trary to those which the qualities expressed would naturally have called forth. But I 
dare not say that this seeming unnaturalness is not in the nature of an abused wilful- 
ness, when united with a strong intellect. In such characters there is sometimes a 
gloomy self-gratification in making the absoluteness of the will {sit pro ratione volun- 
tas f) evident to themselves by setting the reason and the conscience in full array 
against it. — 1 81 8. 

158. Gamester] Steevens : In the present instance and in some others, this does 
not mean a man viciously addicted to games of chance, but a frolicsome person. [The 
meaning is probably more specific here, and Caldecott is nearer right in defining it as 
* disposed to try his fortune at this game* In the story of Faustina the Empresse in 
Painter's Palace of Pleasure, gladiators are said to be * a certaine sort of gamsters in 
Rome, which we terme to bee maisters of defence,' ii, p. 104, ed. Haslewood.— Ed.] 

160. then he] See Abbott, § 206 et seq. for other instances of * he ' used for 
him; 'she' for her; <thee' for thou, &c And also I, ii, 17, 266. 

161. gentle] Cf, 'gentle condition of blood,' supra. 

x6x, 162. noble deuise] Wright : That is, of noble conceptions and aims. In 



22 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. ii. 

deuife, of all forts enchantingly beloued, and indeed 162 
fo much in the heart of the world, and efpecially of my 
owne people, who beft know him, that I am altogether 
mifprifed : but it fhall not be fo long, this wraftler fhall 165 
cleare all : nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy 
thither, which now He goe about Exit. 



Sccena Secunda. 



Enter Rofalindy and Cellia. 
CeL I pray thee Rofalindy fweet my Coz, be merry. 

Scoena Secunda.] Scene IV. Pope + . before the Dukes Palace. Cap. 

The Dukes Palace. Rowe. Open walk I, 3. Cellia] Celia Ff. 

before the Dukes Palace. Theob. Lawn 2. my Coz] Coz Pope, Han. 



a copy of F^, which formerly belonged to Steevens, he has marked these lines as 
descriptive of Shakespeare himself. 

162. sorts] RiTSON : In this place it means ranks and degrees of men. 

162. enchantingly] Caldecott: That is, to a degree that could only be the 
supposed effect of a spell or incantation. Walker {Crit. ii, 88) compares for the 
thought : * such a holy witch That he enchants societies unto him ; Half all men's 
hearts are his,' Cymb. I, vi, 166. 

165. misprised] Wright : Cotgrave gives * Mespriser. To disesteeme, contemne 
disdaine, despise, neglect, make light of, set nought by.* 

166. kindle] Steevens: Cf. Macb. I, iii, 121, * enkindle you unto the crown. 
Nares : To inflame, and thence to incite, to stimulate ; that is, to inflame the mind. 

I. Rosalind] Mrs Jameson (ii, 143) : It is easy to seize on the prominent features 
in the mind of Beatrice, but extremely difficult to catch and fix the more fanciful 
graces of Rosalind. She is like a compound of essences, so volatile in their nature, 
and so exquisitely blended, that on any attempt to analyze them, they seem to escape 
us. To what else shall we compare her, all-enchanting as she is ? — to the silvery 
summer clouds, which, even while we gaze on them, shift their hues and forms, dis- 
solving into air, and light, and rainbow showers ? — to the May-morning, flush with 
opening blossoms and the roseate dews, and * charm of earliest birds ' ? — to some wild 
and beautiful melody, such as some shepherd-boy might pipe to *Amarillis in the 
shade ' ? — to a mountain streamlet, now smooth as a mirror, in which the skies may 
glass themselves, and anon leaping and sparkling in the sunshine— or rather to the 
very sunshine itself? for so her genial spirit touches into life and beauty whatever it 
shines on I Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833, p. 547. Qu, Thomas Camp- 
bell ?) : But lo I One more delightful, more alluring, more fascinating, more enchant- 
ing, more captivating than Beatrice 1 In pure nature and sweet simplicity, more 
delightful is Rosalind ; in courteous coquetry and quaint disguise, more alluring is 
Rosalind ; in feeling, playing with fancy, and in fancy by feeling tempered, (ah ! shall 



ACT I. sc. ii.] AS you LIKE IT 23 

Rof, Deere Cellia ; I fhow more mirth then I am mi- 3 

ftrefle of, and would you yet were merrier : vnleffe you 
could teach me to forget a banifhed father, you muft not 5 

leame mee how to remember any extraordinary plea- 
fure. 

CeL Heerein I fee thou lou'ft mee not with the full 
waight that I loue thee ; if my Vncle thy banifhed father 
had banifhed thy Vncle the Duke my Father, fo thou 10 

hadfl beene ftill with mee, I could haue taught my loue 
to take thy father for mine ; fo wouldfl thou, if the truth 1 j 

4. wtre\ I were Rowe ii et seq. 6. any^ my F^F^, Rowe i. 

we call her serpent ?) more fascinating is Rosalind ; in sinless spells and gracious 
glamoury, (what a witch !) more enchanting is Rosalind ; and when to *• still mnsick ' 
' enters Hymen, leading her in woman's cloathes ' and singing *■ Then is there mirth 
in Heaven, When earthly things made even Atone together,' feelcst thou not that 
more captivating is Rosalind — a snow-white lily with a wimple of dew, in bride-like 
joyance flowering in the forest ! Lady Martin (p. 409) : What the courtly Le Beau 
had so plainly seen to be the state of the Duke's mind was not likely to have escaped 
Rosalind's quick, sensitive nature. She feels the cloud of her uncle's displeasure 
hanging over her and ready to burst at any moment. She will not pain Celia with 
her forebodings, who is so far from surmising the truth that these first lines she speaks 

are a gentle reproach to Rosalind for her want of gayety It is obvious that Celia 

has no idea that Rosalind has fallen out of favour with the usurping Duke Rosa- 
lind will hide from Celia the trouble she sees looming for herself in the not far distance. 

4. and would you yet were merrier] Jourdain [PhiloL Soc. Trans. 1 860-1, p. 
143) proposes to allot these words to Celia, with an interrogation -mark after them. 
Although we can thus retain the text of the Folio and reject Rowe's emendation 
of */ were,* yet it is at the cost of an even greater change, without any corresponding 
improvement of the sense, as far as I can see. Collier suggests that the original text 
might be intelligible if we suppose Rosalind to express a wish that Celia were yet even 
merrier than she appeared to be, an explanation which Halliwell says obscures the 
chief point of Rosalind's speech. Allen thus paraphrases the text with Rowe'i* 
emendation : * " the mirth which I already skew is more than I really feel ; and do 
you still (nevertheless) insist I shall be merrier ?" Cf. for the transposition of " yet " 
line 165 post: " I come but in" for " I but come in." * Rowe's emendation seems 
absolutely necessary. — Ed. 

6. leame] This use of * learn ' for teach (see Abbott, § 291) is still common 
throughout New England. Wordsworth calls attention to its use in the Prayer- 
Book version of PS. xxv, 2 : * Lead me forth in thy truth, and learn me.* 

10. so] Abbott, § 133 : .S"^ is used with the future, and the subjunctive to denote 
provided that. The full construction is * be it (if it be) so that.' * Be it ' is inserted 
in * Be it so (that) she will not,' Mid. N. D. I, i, 39. 

12. so wouldst thou] Allen (MS) ; That is, *so wouldst thou [have taught thy 
love to take my father for thine].* We should now be obliged to write the vice versd 
out in full. 



24 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. li 

of thy loue to me were fo righteoufly tempered, as mine 13 

is to thee. 

Rof, Well, I will forget the condition of my eftate, 15 

to reioyce in yours. 

CeL You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor 
none is like to haue ; and truely when he dies, thou (halt 
be his heire ; for what hee hath taken away from thy fa- 
ther perforce , I will render thee againe in affeflion : by 20 
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee 
tume monftentherefore my fweet Rofe^ my deare Rofe^ 
be merry. 

Rof. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuife fports: 
let me fee, what thinke you of falling in Loue ? 25 

Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make fport withall : but 
loue no man in good earned, nor no further in fport ney- 
ther, then with fafety of a pure blufh , thou maid in ho- 
nor come off againe. 

Rof. What fhall be our fport then ? 30 

CeL Let vs fit and mocke the good houfwife For^ 

17. but I"] ha me Han. 19. ^W;] heire f Ff. 

^^— -""^^^-^^"■™ ^^— ^^^— i^^^^— ^— — ^ ^^^.^^— ^.^ 

13. so . . . as] For other examples of so before at, which are not very common in 
Shakespeare, see Abbott, § 275. 

17. but I] See I, i, 160; and line 2.(3^ post, 

17, 18. nor none] For double negatives, see Abbott, § 406, and Shakespeare /ojjfVv. 

25. See Lodge's Rosalynde^ Appendix. 

26. withall] See I, i, 130. 

28. pure blush] Wright : A blush that has no shame in it Allen paraphrases : 
thou may'st come off in (the possession of thy) honor^ having saved (preserved) a 
pure blush. 

31. mocke . . . whcclc] Johnson: The wheel of Fortune b not the wheel kA a 
kousermfe. Shakespeare has confounded Fortune, whose wheel only figures uncer- 
tainty and vicissitude, with the Destiny that spins the thread of life, though not indeed 
with a wheel. [This is one of Dr Johnson's unhappy notes which must be offset by 
a hundred happy ones. There was no confusion in Shakespeare's mind here nor any- 
where else ; he knew the symbolism in the wheel of Fortune quite as well as Dr 
Johnson. Fluellen in Henry V: III, vi, 35 (as Wright points out) explains to Pistol 
that * Fortune is painted with a wheel, to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that 
she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and variation.' Harness, whose orig- 
inal notes though few are good, well says : * Good housewife seems applied to For- 
tune merely as a jesting appellation, without any reference to the wheel on which she 
stood. The wheel of Fortune was an emblem of her mutability, from which Celia 
and Rosalind proposed to drive her by their wit, that she might ever after cease to be 
inconstant.' — ^£d.] 



ACT I, sc. ii.] AS VOLT LIKE IT 25 

tune from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee 32 

bellowed equally. 

Rof. I would wee could doe fo : for her benefits are 
mightily mifplaced, and the bountifuU blinde woman 35 

doth mod miftake in her gifts to women. 

Cel. 'Tis true, for thofe that fhe makes faire,fhe fcarce 
makes honeft, & thofe that (he makes honed, fhe makes 
very illfauou redly. 

Rof. Nay now thou goeft from Fortunes office to Na- 40 

tures : Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the 
lineaments of Nature. 

Enter Clowne, 
CeL No ; when Nature hath made a faire creature, 44 

37. 38. tho/e.,.6y'\ Om. Rowe i. 43. Enter.,.'] After line 47, Dyce, 
39. illfaiMurediy\ ill favouredly F^ Sta. 

illfavouredly F^F^. ill favoured Rowe 43. Clowne.] Touchstone Theob. ii. 

ii + , CoU. (MS), Dyce iii, Huds. 44. No /] No / Theob, No f Han. 

31. houswife] White (ed. ii; note on 0th. II, i, 132): In Shakespeare's day, 
and in some parts of England still, this word is pronounced husif which has passed 
into hussy. [The pronunciation husif is still quite general, I think, in Uiis country ; 
and is always given to certain little pocket-books containing needles, thread, thimble, 
&c. To call Fortune a husif is jocular, but to call her a hussy is a little too jocular ; 
nor do I imagine that White would have counselled that pronunciation here, though 
it is appropriate enough in the passage in Othello. — Ed.] «J 

35. blinde woman] From many instances where rhythm obliges us to pronounce 
as one word with the accent on the first syllable, such words as wise man, true man, 
long man, &c.. Walker {CrU. ii, 139) suggests that these words be printed and pro- 
nounced bllndwoman. 

38. honest] Staunton: That is, chaste. [See III, iii, 15, and V, iii, 5.] 

39. iUfauouredly] Capell (i, 55) : Altered by the four latter modems [1. e. Pope, 
Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton] into ill-favoured ; in order, as may be suppos'd, to 
make the antithesis the rounder. But how if that roundness was dislik'd by the Poet, 
as thinking it destructive of the ease of his dialogue ? yet this he might think, and 
with great reason. Collier (ed. ii) : Strictly speaking, Fortune does not make the 
honest ' ill-favouredly,' but '"C^ favoured ; and the adverbial termination is erased in 
the (MS). 

40-^. MoBERLY : Shakespeare constantly harps on the motive powers of human 
action ; nature, destiny, chance, art, custom. In this place he playfully distinguishes 
nature from chance ; in Wint. Tale, IV, iii, he argues that the resources of art are 
themselves gifts of nature : * Nature is made better by no mean. But nature makes 
that mean.' In Macb. I, iii, he shows that destiny can work itself without our help 
(* if chance will have me king, why chance may crown me *), and in Ham. Ill, iv, 
161, he splendidly exhibits the force of custom in 'almost changing the stamp of 
nature.' 



26 AS VOW LIKE IT [act i, sc. iL 

may fhe not by Fortune fall into the fire ? though nature 45 

hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune 
fent in this foole to cut off the argument ? 

Rof, Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when 
fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures 
witte. 50 

CeL Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, 
but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull 
to reafon of fuch goddeffes, hath fent this Naturall for 53 

47. the\ this FjF^, Rowe + . Cap. Steev. Knt, Coll. Sing. Wh. i, Sta. 

48. there is fortune'] Fortune is there Klly, Rife, Dyce iii. 

FjF^, Rowe i, Sing, then is Fortune 53. hath] and hath Mai. Dyce i, Cam. 

Dyce iii, Huds. Wh. ii. 

52. perceiueth] perceiving Ff, Rowe + , 

43. Clowne] Douce (i, 309) : Touchstone is the domestic fool of Frederick, the 
Duke's brother, and belongs to the class of witty or allowed fools. He is threatened 
with the whip, a mode of chastisement which was often inflicted on this motley per- 
sonage. His dress should be a party-coloured garment. He should occasionally 
carry a bauble in his hand, and wear asses' ears to his hood, which is probably the 
head-dress intended by Shakespeare, there being no allusion whatever to a cock's 
head or comb. The three-cornered hat which Touchstone is made to wear on the 
modem stage is an innovation, and totally unconnected with the genuine costume of 
the domestic fool. [See Appendix, p. 309, * Source of the Plot.'] 

44. No ;] It is not easy to reject Hanmcr's interrogation -point, which, indeed, has 
been generally adopted. Moberly gives this good paraphrase of the whole speech : 

* True that Fortune does not make fair features ; but she can mar them by some acci- 
dent. So Nature makes us able to philosophize, chance spoils our grave philosophy 
by sending us a fool.* 

52, 53. perceiueth . . . hath sent] Malone suggested, and reads, ^ and hath 
sent.' Caldecott, who never deserts his Folio, says that * perceiveth ' is ec^uivalent 
to * who, inasmuch as she perceiveth.* Dyce in his first edition adopted Malone's 
emendation, because, as he said, * it is more probable that arui was omitted by the 
original compositor than that "perceiveth" should be a misprint for perceiving ;'' and 
of Caldecott's defence he remarks that * the general style of the dialogue is opposed 
to the idea of Shakespeare's having intended such an ellipsis here.' But in his last 
edition he adopts perceiving with the quiet remark that it is a correction of the Second 
Folio. Dyce's vacillation, a quality in which he excels, is a proof not of thoughtless- 
ness, but of extreme thoughtful ness ; it is to be regretted that with it was not joined a 
little more openness in confessing it, and a good deal less acrimony in criticising 
others. The choice here is so evenly balanced between perceiving of F^ and the and 
of Malone tliat we can debate a long while over a very trifling matter. In the end, I 
think, however, that the gray authority of the Second Folio should prevail. — Ed. 

53. reason of] That is, talk, discuss concerning. For the use of * of,' as equiv- 
alent to about^ concemingf see also V, iv, 59; or Mer. of Ven, I, iii, 54: *I am 
debating of my present store,' or Abbott, § 174. See also Mer. of Ven. II, viii, 30: 

* I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday/ that is, talked. 



ACT I, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 27 

our whetftone . for alwaies the dulnefle of the foole , is 

the whetftone of the wits. How now Witte, whether 55 

wander you.^ 

Clow, Miftreffe, you muft come away to your farher. 
CeL Were you made the meffenger f 
C/o.iio by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you 
Ro/. Where learned you that oath foole ? 60 

C/o. Of a certaine Knight, that fwore by his Honour 
they were good Pan-cakes, and fwore by his Honor the 
Muftard was naught : Now He ftand to it, the Pancakes 
were naught, and the Muftard was good, and yet was 
not the Knight forfworne. 65 

55. />4^zwVj]^i>zwVjVar. '03, Var. '13, 55. whether] whither Y ^. 

Var. '21. 62. Fan-cakes] Pancakes Ff. 

Wifte] Om. Rowe, Pope, Han. 

53. NaturaU] Douce (i, 293) : Touchstone is here called a * natural * [/. e. an 
idiot] merely for the sake of alliteration and a punning jingle of words ; for he is 
undoubtedly an artificial fool. [Cf. Touchstone's own use of the word in his conver- 
sation with Corin, III, ii, 31, whom he calls * a «fl/«rdf/ philosopher.' — Ed.] 

55. whetstone] Whalley (p. 36) : This is a proverbial term, denoting an excite- 
ment to lying, or a subject that gave a man the opportunity of breaking a jest upon 
another. And Jonson, alluding to the same when he draws the character of Amor- 
phus, says : ' He will lie cheaper than any Beggar, and louder than most clocks ; for 
which he is right properly accommodated to the Whetstone ^ his page* [Cynthia's 
RevelSy II, i, p. 265, ed. Gifford. I think Whalley is far afield when he traces any 
connection between the present passage and the whetstone which was given at Fairs 
as a prize to that clown who told the most impossible and enormous lies. Why a 
whetstone should have been selected as this prize has never yet been discovered. It 
is clear that Celia refers to the ordinary uses of the ordinary stone. Wright appo- 
sitely cites the title of Robert Recorde's Arithmetic, 1557 : * The Whetstone of Witte.' 
—Ed.]. 

55. the wits] In the Variorum of 1803 this was changed to * his wits.* As no 
reason was given for the change, nor even a reference to it, I am inclined to think 
that it is a mere typographical oversight, precisely such a substitution of words as 
Walker ( Crit. i, 309) conceived to have taken place in the second word * wits/ 
which he suggested should be wise^ an emendation also proposed by Spedding; 
Dyce (ed. iii), however, thinks the emendation doubtful, * because it seems to be at 
variance with what Celia says just before, " who, perceiving our natural wits too dull^* 
&c.' ; wherein, I think, all will agree. — Ed. 

55, 56. How . , . you ?] Staunton : The beginning, probably, of some ancient 
ballad. Wright : * Wit, whither wilt,' was a proverbial expression. See IV, i, 160. 

65. forsworn] Boswell: The same joke [* such as it is * — Wright] is found in the 
old play of Damon and Pithias : * I have taken a wise oath on him, have I not, trow 
ye ? To trust such a false knave upon his honesty ? As he is an honest man (quoth 
you ?) he may bewray all to the king. And break his oath for this never a whit.* [ed. 



28 AS VOLT LIKE IT [act I, sa ii. 

Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your 66 

knowledge ? 

Rof. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wifedome. 

Clo. Stand you both forth now : ftroke your chinnes, 
and fweare by your beards that I am a knaue. 70 

Cel. By our beards(if we had them)thou art. 

Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were : but if 
you fweare by that that is not, you are not forfworn : no 
more was this knight fwearing by his Honor, for he ne- 
uer had anie ; or if he had, he had fworne it away, before 75 

euer he faw thofe Pancakes, or that Muftard. 

Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means^t ? 

Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues. 78 

68. your^ you F^. 78. Fredericke] Ferdinand Cap. conj, 

77. wV] is F^, Rowe + . Coll. ii. 

Dodsley, vol. iv, p. 60]. Caldecott : Richard, swearing by his * George, his garter, 
and his crown/ is answered in much the same way by Queen Elizabeth, who says he 
swears * By nothing ; for this is no oath,* Rick, III : IV, iv, 374. 

70. sweare by your beards] Grey (i, 163) refers to the oath of the porter 'by 
goddes berde ' in the Tale of Gatnelyn^ 295. 

78. old Fredericke] In the last Scene of the last Act we are told that the name 
of Celia's father is Frederick, and there would be no diflficulty here in Touchstone's 
reply were it not that Rosalind speaks as though the name of her father also were 
Frederick. As it is impossible that the two brothers should both have the same name, 
Ane of two changes must be made. Either the name Frederick must be changed, 
or the answer given to Rosalind in line 79, must be given to Celia. This latter 
emendation Theobald was the first to propose and to adopt, and it is the simpler 
solution of the two. The instances are numerous, filling more than ten pages in 
Walker (Crit, ii, 177-189), wherein speeches in the Folio are assigned to the wrong 
characters ; the present is in Walker's list. It is to be noted that it is Celia's question 
that Touchstone is answering, and when he says * your father,' must he not mean 
Celia's father? Capell did not approve of Theobald's emendation, and preferred to 
change the name, but Capell should be always allowed to speak for himself— -he stands 
solitary in style : * Two of the Poet's editors [Theob. and Han.] have given this speech 
[1. 79] to Celia; assigning for reasons, first — that she is the questionist; that the 
answer therefore ought naturally to be address'd to her and reply'd to by her ; and 
in the next place — that " Frederick " is the name of her father. To the first of these 
reasons, it may be reply'd, that Celia is effectually answer'd ; but the matter of his 
answer concerning Rosalind most, the Qown turns himself in speaking to her; to the 
second, that *' Frederick " is a mistake, either of the Poet's through haste, or of his 
compositor's, as we shall endeavour to shew by and by ; first observing that the speech 
cannot be Celia's, for two very good reasons : we have no cause to think that she 
would have been so alert in taking up the Qown for reflecting upon her father; who 
(besides) is not the person reflected upon, that person being call'd " old Frederick." 
Throughout all this play Shakespeare calls his two dukes "Duke senufr" and "DuJU 




ACT I. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 29 

[old Fredericke your Father] 
junior''^ [see II, i, i], giving no proper name to either of them, except in this place, 
and in [line 228 of this scene, and in V, iv, 158] : his original makes them both kings, 
and kings of France ; calling the elder, Gerismond ; the younger, and the usurping 
king, Torismond : these names the Poet chose to discard (perhaps, for that he thought 
them too antiquated), putting "Frederick" instead of the latter; but not instantly 
hitting upon another that pleas'd him, when he had occasion to mention the former, 
he put down " Frederick " there too, with intention to alter it afterwards. There is a 
name in the Novel, which might (possibly) be that intended for Gerismond ; and this 
the reason why it was taken away from it's owner, Orlando's second brother; and 
" Jaques " bestow'd upon him for " Femandine," his name in the novelist ; however 
that may be, it can be no very great licence to put " Femandine " [into the present 
line] or Ferdinand rather ; and get rid of a name by that means, which will be for ever 
a stumbling-block to all those who read with attention.' Malone was evidently 
impressed with Capell's emendation, but he did not venture to adopt it (Collier was 
the only editor temerarious enough to do that). ' I suppose,* says Malone, < some 
abbreviation was used in the MS for the name of the rightful, or old duke, as he is 
called (perhaps Fer. for Ferdinand) ^ which the transcriber or printer converted into 
Frederick.' He disapproves of giving the next speech to Celia instead of Rosalind, 
because ' there is too much filial warmth in it for Celia : besides, why should her 
father be called old Frederick ? It appears from the last scene of the play that this 
was the name of the younger brother.* Whereunto Steevens replies : * Mr Malone's 
remark may be just ; and yet I think the speech which I have still left in the mouth 
of Celia exhibits as much tenderness for the fool as respect for her own father. She 
stops Touchstone, who might otherwise have proceeded to say what she could not hear 
without inflicting punishment on the speaker. <<01d" is an unmeaning term of 
familiarity. It is still in use, and has no reference to age.' This last observation in 
regard to *old ' Dyce {Remarks^ p. 61) pronounced * just.* Caldecott will neither 
renege Frederick, nor affirm Celia, nor turn his halcyon beak for one instant away 
from the First Folio. * The Qown,* he urges, * might turn towards Rosalind, though 
addressed by Celia ; or might speak inaccurately ; neither would it be out of character 
to make him do so. The answer of Rosalind, at the same time, seems to shew that it 
was her truly respectable father that was meant.* Collier (ed. i) made a bold sug- 
gestion that *• perhaps the name of the knight was Frederick, and the clown's answer 
ought to run " One old Frederick, that your father loves," which only changes the 
place of " that." * This suggestion was not repeated in his next edition, where he 
upholds and adopts Capell's Ferdinand on the score that it * makes the whole dia- 
logue natural and consistent, and it does no violence to the poet's language merely to 
introduce a change of name ' — a reason which applies with equal force to the change 
of ^Ros,^ to *C//.' In Collier's third and last edition Theobald's change is adopted 
in the text with the following note : * In the old copies this speech is by mistake given 
to Rosalind. Theol>ald was the first to detect the error, which has not been repeated ' 
—an oversight for which Collier's venerable age is an ample excuse. Dyce quotes 
Caldecott's remark that the clown * might speak inaccurately,' and affixes two exclama- 
tion-marks. Neil follows the Folio, and, supposing that Touchstone gives ' a jocular 
answer addressed first to Celia and then explanatorily to Rosalind,* thus prints line 
78: *{To Celia] One that old Frederick [fo Rosalind], your father, loves.' [The 
many examples collected by Walker of speeches wrongly assigned in the Folio seem 
to me amply sufficient to justify Theobald's change here. The error may be due, how- 



30 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. iL 

Ro/.My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; 
fpeake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one 80 

of thefe daies. 

C/o. The more pittie that fooles may not fpeak wife- 
ly, what Wifemen do foolifhly. 

Cel. By my troth thou faieft true : For, fince the little 
wit that fooles haue was filenced, the little foolerie that 85 

wife men haue makes a great (hew ; Heere comes Mon- 
fieur the Beu. 

Enter le Beau, 

Rof. With his mouth full of newes. 

CeL Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their 90 

young. 

79. Rof.] Celia. Theob. Han. Johns. 83. Wifemetil Wife mm FjF^, Rowe. 

Steev. Knt, Sing. Hal. Wh. Dyce, Sta. 86, 87. Monfteur\ Mounfuur Ff. 

KUy, Cam. Rife, Coll. iii. 87. the Beu.] Le Beu. Ff. 

him enough /] him : — enough ! 88. Scene V. Pope + . 

Han. Johns. Steev. Sta. Cam. Wr. Wh. le Beau.] Le Beu. Ff. After line 

ii. him. Enough : Mai. 93, Dyce, Sta. Cam. Wh. ii. 

him enough"] him Gould. 

ever, to Shakespeare himself, and be but another proof of that haste in composition 
which Wright finds in the play. — Ed.] 

79. honor him enough ;] This punctuation, which has been followed by a major- 
ity of the Editors, Collier asserts to be * in Shakespeare's characteristic manner/ 
and adds, I think with truth, that Hanmer's punctuation, as well as Malone's, * sacri- 
fices the point of the reply.' 

80. whipt] Douce : This was the discipline usually inflicted on Fools. [See Lear, 
I, iv, 105, where Lear says to the Fool : * Take heed, sirrah ; the whip.'] 

80. taxation] Malone: That is, censure or satire. See H, vii, 74 and 89. 

83. 86. Wisemen . . . wise men] These two forms should be, I think, retained 
in a modem text. See V, i, 34. — Ed. 

84. since . . . was silenced] For other instances of the simple past for the com- 
plete present with * since,' see Abbott, § 347. 

85. silenced] Johnson: Shakespeare probably alludes to the use of Fools or 
Jesters, who for some ages had been allowed in all courts an unbridled liberty of cen- 
sure and mockery, and about this time began to be less tolerated. Wright : Per- 
haps referring to some recent inhibition of the players. See Ham. II, ii, 346. Fleay 
(Life and Work of Sh.y p. 208) thinks that this * alludes probably to the burning of 
satirical books by public authority 1st June, 1599/ and holds this allusion to be an 
important indication of the date of the play. 

90. put on vs] I doubt the need of analysing here the exact meaning of * put,' or 
of citing other passages where it is to be found. Its special meaning is plainly, almost 
too plainly, conveyed by Celia's simile, which is distended to its fullest extent by the 



\ 



ACT I. sc. ii.] j4S you like IT 31 

Rof. Then (hal we be newes-cram'd. 92 

CeL All the better : we fhalbe the more Marketable. 
Boon-iour^ Monjieur le BeUy what's the newes ? 

Le Beu. Faire Princeffe, 95 

you haue loft much good fport. 

CeL Sport : of what colour ? 

Le Beu. What colour Madame ? How fhall I aun- 
fwer you ? 

Rof. As wit and fortune will. 100 

do. Or as the deftinies decrees. 

Cel, Well faid, that was laid on with a trowell. 102 

94. Boon-ipur, Monfieur] Boon-jour 96. much good"] much F,F^, Rowe, 

Mounfieur Ff. Pope, Han. 

whaVs the'\ what the F,. whcU 98. Madame\ Madam Ff. 

F F^, Rowe+. loi. decree5\ Ff, Rowe, Cam. decree 

Pope et cet. 

suggestion that they ' shall be more marketable,' because the heavier by the operation. 
—Ed. 

96. good sport] Collier (ed. ii) : From what follows this observation we learn 
that Le Beau pronounced ' sport ' affectedly spot, and Celia retorts it upon him in his 
own way, ''Spot f of what colour ?' The old corrector of F, made this change in 
order to render a point clear which has hitherto been missed by all Editors. [This 
emendation is so specious that apparently it staggered Collier's opponents. Of course 
they do not adopt it, but they do not exclaim against it. Moberly and Neil are, I 
think, the only avowed converts ; nay, Moberly amplifies it, and suggests that * with 
a finicking pronunciation, the next line would end with " answer ye," rhyming to 
" decree." * The best answer to Collier is given indirectly by Wright, who shows 
that * colour* is * used for kind^ nature, in Lear, II, ii, 145 : " This is a fellow of the 
self-same colour Our sister speaks of:" where the Quartos actually read "nature."* 
Apposite as this citation seems and satisfactory as it may appear to us, I am afraid 
that Celia's use of the word was neither so satisfactory nor so clear to Le Beau. He 
is evidently gravelled by it, and at a loss for a reply. His answer would have been 
prompt enough had he at once thus understood the word * colour.' — ^Ed.] 

loi. destinies decrees] Another of the many instances where a final 5 is inter- 
polated ; see I, iii, 60. Wright : It is by no means to be regarded as an example of 
the old Northern plural in * s,' which, so far as Shakespeare is concerned, is a figment 
of the granunarians. 

102. trowell] Grey (i, 163) : A proverbial expression for a great lie. See Ray's 
Prtrjerbs [p. 49, ed. 1817. The first ed. of Ray is dated 1670; it is useless therefore 
as an unsupported authority for any phrase of Shakespeare's like this.— Ed.]. John- 
son : I suppose the meaning is, that there is too heavy a mass of big words laid upon 
a light subject. RiTSON : It means a good round hit, thrown in without judgment or 
design. M. Mason : To do anything strongly and without delicacy. Moberly : Well 
rounded off into a jingle ; the lines being pronoimced 'As wit and fortune will. Or as | 
The destinies decree.' [I doubt if this last interpretation will gain many converts 



33 AS yO[/ LIKE IT [act i, sc u. 

Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke. 103 

Rof. Thou loofeft thy old fmell. 

Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies : I would haue told 105 
you of good wraftling, which you haue loft the fight of. 

Rof. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wraftling. 

Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning : and if it pleafe 
your Ladifliips, you may fee the end, for the beft is yet 
to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to no 
performe it. 

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. 

Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three fons. 113 

103. ranke."] rank — Rowe et seq. 113. fons.'] sons, — Theob. et seq. 

104. loo/e^] lofeft F^. 

The phrase carries its own explanation to every man, woman, or child who has ever 
watched a mason at work. TiECK (p. 309), premising that the phrase, * be it proverb- 
ial or not, is incomprehensible,' wonders if there be* not herein < a malicious allusion 
to Ben Jonson, who, as all the world knew, had been, in his youth, a mason.' It is 
to be feared that Gififord would have emptied the printer's case of exclamation-marks 
after this suggestion of Tieck's, had he ever seen it. — Ed.] 

103. ranke] Caldecott : * Rank ' is quality or place. The unsavory perversion 
of Rosalind's is obvious. So also in Cym, II, i, 17. Cowden-Clarke : Touchstone 
as the professional jester, uses this word * rank ' to express * rate of talking,' * way of 
following up one joke with another ;' while Rosalind puns upon it in the sense of 

* rancid,' * offensively scented.' 

104. old smell] Neil : Holinshed says : < The making of new gentlemen bred 
great strife sometimes among the Romans, I meane when those which were Novi 
homines were more allowed of for their virtues newlie scene and shewed, than the 
old smell of ancient race latelie defaced,' &c. — Description of England^ chap v, 
[p. 162, ed. 1574]. Rosalind banters Touchstone by taking * rank,' meaning own place, 
to signify true station in one sense, and strong-scented in another, and so employs this 
equivoque. 

105. amaze] Johnson : This is not to astonish or strike with wonder, but to per- 
plex, to confuse, so as to put out of the intended narrative. Wright : The word 

* amazement ' was originally applied to denote the confusion of mind produced by 
any strong emotion, as in Mark xiv, 33 : 'And they began to be sore amazed, and to 
be very heavy.' 

1 10. to doe] Abbott, § 359 : The infinitive active is often found where we use 
the passive, as in * such a storm As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,' Lov. Com. 102. 
This is especially common in * what's to do * ( Tkvel, N, III, iii, 18) for * what's to be 
done.' So in * Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust.' — Sonn. 129, that is, not to 
be trusted. 

113. There comes] Abbott, § 335 : When the subject is as yet future, and, as it 
were, unsettled, the third person singular might be regarded as the normal inflection. 
Such passages are very common, particularly in the case of * There is.' See 0th. I, 
i, 188 : * Is there not charms.' See also V, li, 76 of the present play. 



ACT I. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 33 

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 

Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth 115 
and prefence. 

Rof. With bils on their neckes : Be it knowne vnto 
all men by these prefents. 118 

116. prefence,'\ presence^^ Theob. et 117, 1 18. Be,„prefents\ Given to 
scq. Qown, Warb. 

117. With,„necke5\ Given to Le Ben, 118. pre/etUs.'] prefenU^ — Theob. et 
Farmer, Dyce, Huds. seq. 

115. proper] Caldecott: That is, of good figure and proportion. 

117, 118. Warburton supposes that Rosalind and Touchstone are playing < at a 
kind of cross purposes/ and to serve out Rosalind for catching him up in line 104, 
Touchstone now, < to be quits with her, puts in — ^' Know all men by these presents." 
She spoke of an instrument of war, and he turns it to an instrument of law of the 
same name, beginning with these words: So that they must be given to him.' 
Farmer says, < <' With bills on their necks '' should be the conclusion of Le Beau's 
speech.' [Thus between Warburton and Farmer no word of the speech is left to 
Rosalind at all.] Farmer continues : < Mr Edwards ridicules Dr Warburton, << As if 
people carried such instruments of war as bUU and guns on their necksy not on theif 
shoulden P* But unluckily the ridicule falls upon himself. Lassels, in his Voyagi 
of Italy y says of tutors, " Some persuade their pupils that it is fine carrying a gun 
upon their necksP But what is still more, the expression is taken immediately [from 
Lodge's novel.* See Appendix, p. 362]. Johnson : Where meaning is so very thin 
as in this vein of jocularity it is hard to catch, and therefore I know not well what to 
determine; but I cannot see why Rosalind should suppose that competitors in a 
wrestling match carried bills on their shoulders, and I believe the whole conceit is in 
the poor resemblance of presence and presents, Capell : The humour of Rosalind's 
speech, such as it is, took it's rise from Le Beu's word ' presence.' < Bills ' are — ^labels. 
Steevens added others to Farmer's proof from Lodge's novel, of the practice of 
wearing bills on the neck; in Sidney's Arcadia [book i, p. 68, ed. 1598] <Dame- 
tus . . . . with a sword by his side, a Forrest bill on his necke.' Again in Rowley's 
When You See Me You Know Me^ a stage direction conveys almost the same idea t 
' Enter King and Compton with bills on their backs' [p. 28, ed. Elze]. M. Mason 
(p. 81) believed that neither an instrument of war, nor one of law, was meant by 
< bill,' but merely a label or advertisement, as we say 2k play-hilly a hand-bill. Calde- 
cott: From the [foregoing] instances it is highly probable that an allusion is here 
made to the undoubted usage of < bills, forest-bills, and bats ' being carried on the neck ; 
although the leading idea holden out is manifestly that of * scrolls or labels,' with an 
inscription running in a legal form, and for the purpose of a conceit between < pres- 
ence ' and < presents.' < The watchman's weapon,' says Douce (ii, 51), was the bill; 
but Stowe [Annal. p. X040, ed. 1631) infonns us 'that when prentizes and journey- 
men attended upon their masters and mistresses in the night, they went before them 
carrying a lanthome and candle in their hands and a great long club on their necks.' 
CoLUER (ed. i) is inclined to accept Farmer's distribution of the speeches. * Lodge 
calls the father " a lustie Frankhn of the country " with <' two tall men that were his 
Bonnes/' and they would properly be furnished ** with bills on their necks." ' Dycs 
adopted Farmer's emendation in his first edition, and remained constant to it in hit 
3 



34 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act I, sc ii 



Le Beu. The eldeft of the three, wraftled with Charles 
the Dukes Wraftler, which Charles in a moment threw I20 
him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little 
hope of life in him : So he feru'd the fecond, and fo the 
third : yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father, 
making fuch pitdful dole ouer them, that all the behol- 
ders take his part with weeping. 125 

Rof. Alas. 

Clo. But what is the fport Monfieur, that the Ladies 
haue loft ? 

Le Beu. Why this that I fpeake of, 

Clo. Thus men may grow wifer euery day. It is the 130 
firft time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was fport 
for Ladies. 

Cel. Or I, I promife thee. 

Rof, But is there any elfe longs to fee this broken 134 



127. Monjieur] Mounfieur Yt 

129. Mw] Mif is F^, Rowe i. 

130. may"] Om. Rowe, Pope, Han, 

131. Aeardl heard of Y^^y Rowe i. 



134. fei^ set Theob. Han. Warb. Cap. 
feel Johns, conj. Walker, Dyce iii, Huds. 
Coll. iii. 



lubeequent editions, pronouncing it undoubtedly right ; ' for if they [t. e, the words 
<* with bills on their necks "] are spoken by Rosalind, the whole humour of the pas- 
sage evaporates.' [This, I think, is somewhat too strongly expressed. And yet 
Farmer's suggestion is so ingenious that I am inclined to say < Ditto to Dr Johnson,' 
and confess that * I know not well what to determine.' — Ed.] 

120. which Charles] Abbott, §269: Which being an adjective frequently 
accompanies the repeated antecedent, where definiteness is desired or where care 
must be taken to select the right antecedent. This repetition is, perhaps, more com- 
mon with the definite *the which.' See post II, i, 36; II, vii, 125. 

121. that] For the frequent omission of so before that^ see Abbott, § 283. 

126. Alas] Cowden-Clarke : It is often by such apparently slight touches as 
these that Shakespeare depicts the moral perfection of his characters and gives them 
their crowning charm. By this single word he shows us Rosalind pausing in the full 
career of her sportive word-bandying, struck with pity for the poor old father's grief. 
His women are always true women ; not mere heedless, heartless wits, but witty from 
the very depths of their sweet and sensitive natures. 

134-136. But . . . Cosin] In the Cambridge Edition there is recorded an Anony- 
mous conjecture whereby this speech is given to Touchstone as far as < rib-breaking.' 
To Rosalind is given the rest : < Shall we see this wrastling, Cosin ?' 

134. any else longs] For the omission of the relative in this very elliptical phrase 
(< any one else who longs '), see Abbott, § 244, where many parallel instances are 
given. 

X34. see this broken Musicke] Warburton asserts that the pleasantry of Rosa- 
lind's repartee must consist in the allusion she makes to composing in music, * It 



ACT I. sc. iL] AS YOU LIKE IT 3S 

Muficke in his fides? Is there yet another doates vpon 135 
rib-breaking ? Shall we fee this wraftling Cofin? 

Le Beu. You muft if you ftay heere, for heere is the 
place appointed for the wraftling, and they are ready to 
performe it 139 

138. for the] for Ff, Rowe. 

necessarily follows, therefore/ so he says, * that die poet wrote — set this broken music' 
This emendation received Capell's approval. Heath (p. 145) : Possibly it might 
be *get this broken music/ Johnson : If any change were necessary, I should write 
*feel this broken music' But * see ' is the colloquial term for perception or experi- 
ment. So we say every day : see if the water be hot ; I will see which is the best time ; 
she has tried, and sees that she cannot lift it. In this sense ' see ' may be here used. 
Caldecott paraphrases : witness the crash made by his broken bones ; get so rough 
a handling. Walker ( Crit, ii, 299) : Feele^ surely ; and so Johnson conjectures, 
although he doubts whether any change is required. Dyce (ed. iii) adopted this 
emendation, remarking that the error < see ' was evidently derived from the close of 
the speech, * Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ?* It may be as Dyce says, but I 
always mistrust these < errors of anticipation.' What has once passed through a com- 
positor's mind, and imder his fingers, may, it is conceivable, readily recur. But the 
case is altered when the error is in the future. Why is it not simpler to take Walker's 
explanation that the error arose from the confusion, a confusion very, very common, of 
the long s ondfF Rosalind repeats her question with a variation; since the second 
time she refers to the wrestler, and not to a spectator, it seems but natural that she 
should have referred in the first question also to the wrestler— an additional reason 
for adopting Dr Johnson's emendation.^ED.] 

134, 135. broken Musicke] Wright: This was first explained by Mr Chappell 
{Popular Music f &c, p. 246) as the music of a string band. But he has since altered 
his opinion, and has kindly favoured me with the following explanation : Some 
instruments, such as viols, violins, flutes, &c., were formerly made in sets of four, 
which when played together formed a * consort' If one or more of the instruments 
of one set were substituted for the corresponding ones of another set, the result is no 
longer a * consort,' but * broken music' The expression occurs in Hen, V: V, ii, 263, 
< Come, your answer in broken music ; for thy voice is music and thy English broken.' 
And Bacon, Essay xxxvii, p. 156 : < I understand it, that the Song be in Quire, placed 
aloft, and accompanied with some broken musicke.' 

136. Shall . . . Cosin] Cowden-Clarke suggests that this should be uttered in 
a tone to indicate the purpose not to see it Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833, 
p. 549, ^. Campbell ?) : Ought Rosalind to have remained to see the wrestling after 
having been told by Le Beau that Charles had thrown the three sons of the old man, 
and left them lying on the ground with broken ribs and little hope of life ? On hear- 
ing of the rib-breaking Rosalind only said, <Alas 1' Probably she would no^have 
gone to see the wrestling, for she asks Celia's advice ; but Celia replies, < Yonder, stu^ 
they are coming; let us now stay and see it' And there is Orlando. ' Is yonder the 
man ?' asks Rosalind ; and would you have had her to leave him, who, * alas ! is too 
young, but looks successfully,' in the hold of the Duke's wrestler, without sending 
strength to all his sinews ixom the sympathy shining in her troubled eyes ? As for 



36 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. ii. 

CeL Yonder fure they are comming. Let vs now (lay 140 
and fee it. / 

Flourijh. Enter Duke^ Lords ^ Orlando^ Charles ^ 

and Attendants . 

Duke. Come on, fince the youth will not be intreated 
His owne perill on his forwardneffe. 145 

Rof. Is yonder the man f 

Le Beu. Euen he, Madam. 

CeL Alas, he is too yong : yet he looks fucceffefully 

Du. How now daughter, and Coufin: 
Are you crept hither to fee the wraftling? 1 50 

Rof. I my Liege, fo pleafe you giue vs leaue. 

Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you 
there is fuch oddes in the man : In pitie of the challen- 153 

142. Duke] Duke Frederick. Rowe. 152. you] you^ Ff. 

Duke junior. Cap. 153. in the] on the Anon. (ap. Cam, 

Scene VI. Pope + . Ed.) 

144, intreated] entreated ¥^^. man] men Han. Warb. Johna^ 

149. Cou/in] Co/in Ff. Cap. Steev. Mai. Sing. Wh. i, Dyce, Sta, 
151. /] Ay, Rowe. Coll. (MS) ii, in, Ktly, Rife, Huds. 

the vulgarity of wrestling, 'tis a pretty pastime ; and then Orlando could do nothing 
vulgar. 

145. Allen (MS) : Instead of < his forwardness is at his own peril,* it is to bo 
understood as 'his danger is based upon his own forwardness.' 

150. Are you crept] For instances of some few intransitive verbs, mostly of motion, 
with which be and have are used, see Abbott, § 295. 

153. oddes in the man] Capell pronounced Hanmer's change 'palpably neces* 
sary.* Caldecott evidently refers * man * to Orlando ; and paraphrases : * the chal-. 
lenger is so little of a match.' Collier, in his first edition, agrees with Caldecott, 
in his second and third he was overborne by his *old Corrector.' Blackwood's 
Magazine (Aug. 1853, p. 197) : We take leave to say that Hanmer was not right in 
altering < man ' to men. What b meant to be said is, *• there is such superiority (of 
strength) in the man /' and < odds ' formerly signified superiority , as may be learnt 
from the following sentence of Hobbes: 'The passion of laughter,' says Hobbes, 
< proceedeth from the sudden imagination of our own odds and eminency.' Dyce 
defends Hanmer's change: <If Shakespeare had here written *<man" (meaning 
Orlando), he surely would not immediately after have written "/» pity of the chal' 
leng^s youth,** &c., but "/» pity of his youth,* &c. Nor, on carefully considering 
the passage, can I think more favotu^bly of the old reading, because a critic in Black- 
wood*s Magazine confidently maintains [as above]. A little above [line 146] " man " 
is Implied to Orlando, and a little below [line 168] to Charles : here the two men, 
Charles and Orlando, are spoken of.' [Caldecott is the only editor, I think, who 
refers < man ' to Orlando. Qearly it refers to Charles. Wright agrees substantially 



ACT I. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 37 

gers youth, I would faine diffwade him, but he will not 

bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, fee if you can 155 

mooue him. 

Cel. Call him hether good Monfieuer Le Beu. 

Duke. Do fo : He not be by. 

Le Beu. Monfieur the Challenger, the Princeffe cals 
for you. 160 

OrL I attend them with all refpeft and dutie. 

Rof. Young man, haue you challenged Charles the 
Wraftler? 

Orl. No faire Princeffe : he is the generall challenger, 
I come but in as others do, to try with him the ftrength 165 
of my youth. 

157. h€ther\ hither Ft Theob. Warb. Johns. Steev. Mai. Sing. 
Mon/ituer] Mounfieur Yl, Sta. Huds. princes^ call Dyce. 

158. Duke goes apart. Theob. 161. them\ htr Rowe, Pope, Han. 

159. Princeffe cals] Princeffe calls F, 165. but in] but Ff, Rowe, Pope, 
Fj. princefs calls F^. Princesses call Han. 

with Blackwood, and for < odds,' in the sense of advantage or superiority, cites Lev^s 
Lab. L. I, ii, 183: 'Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club; and therefore 
too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier.' — Ed.] 

159, 161. the Princesse cals . . . them] Whiter: It is Celia only who calls 
for him; and the answer of Orlando, < I will attend them^ as Celia is accompanied by 
Rosalind, does not invalidate the ancient reading. [See Theobald's change in Text. 
Notes.] Caldecott interprets < them ' as * those of the princess's party, or the prin- 
cesses.' Knight observes: *When Orlando answers, "I attend them,** he looks 
towards Celia and Rosalind ;' and Collier and White to the same effect. Walker 
(Crit, i, 263) gives this among his many instances where s has been interpolated or 
omitted, and adds < certainly <* the princesses call for you," as some editions have it.' 
In his Vers. 248, he again cites the passage, and asks ' Is there an erratum in both 
these words, or merely in cals f I think the former.' Dyce : I prefer *■ the princess' 
call for you :' the plural form princes^ occurs in Temp. I, ii, 173, while princesses is 
not once found throughout the whole of Shakespeare's works. Still, whether we 
read * the princess calls,' &c. or *• the princess* call, &c., an inconsistency will remain. 
Mr Lettsom not improbably conjectures that the speech now given to Celia, < Call him 
hither,' &c., should have the double prefix *Cel. and Ros* : < this notion,' he adds, < is 
in some degree supported by the Duke's inmiediately preceding words, ** Speak to 
him, ladies;** as well as by the fact that Rosalind is the first to address Orlando, 
which is not altogether consistent with Celia only requesting Le Beau to call him. 
At any rate, it seems qtiite impossible, if " princess " is a singular, to explain « I attend 
them,** though Caldecott, Knight, and Collier have made the attempt' Wright : It 
is Celia who gives the order, and it may be that Orlando in his reply is thinking of 
Rosalind, and is made to say * them ' designedly. [I agree with Dyce that the error 
lies in the interpolated s in < cals.' There was the sound of a plural in * Princesse ' 
which sufficed for Shakespeare's ear, but did not apparently appeal to the composi- 



38 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sa iL 

Cel. Yong Gentleman, your fpirits are too bold for 167 
your yeares : you haue feene cruell proofe of this mans 
ftrength, if you faw your felfe with your eies, or knew 
your felfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduen- 170 
ture would counfel you to a more equall enterprife. We 
pray you for your owne fake to embrace your own fafe- 
tie, and giue ouer this attempt. 

Rof. Do yong Sir, your reputation fhall not therefore 
be mifprifed : we wil make it our fuite to the Duke, that 175 
the wraftling might not go forward. 

OrL I befeech you, punifli mee not with your harde 
thoughts, wherein I confeffe me much guiltie to denie 178 

169, 170. your eus.,.your iudgment'] Johns. 

our eyes,,. our judgment Han. Warb. 178. wAerein} Therein Johns, oanj. 

Cap. Coll. (MS), ii, iii, Dyce iii, Huds. herein Cap. conj. Dyce iii. Om. Sped- 

your own eyes., .your own judgment ding (ap. Cam. £d.) Huds. 

tor's. The triple sound of s in Princesses is certainly harsh, which is sufficient, in the 
present case, I think, to condemn it. — Ed.] 

169, 170. your eies . . . your iudgment] Warburton: Absurd! The sense 
requires that we should read, our eyes and our judgement. The argument is. Your 
spirits are too bold, and therefore your judgement deceives you ; but did you see your- 
self with our more impartial judgement, you would forbear. Johnson : I cannot find 
the absurdity of the present reading. If you were not blinded and intoxicated (says 
the Princess) with the spirit of enterprise, if you could use your own eyes to see^ or 
your own judgement to know yourself; the fear of your adventure would counsel you. 
[See Johnson's reading in Text. Notes.] Heath (p. 145) : A very modest proposal 
truly [Warburton's reading] that Orlando, who must have been taught by experience 
the measure of his own skill and strength, should rather refer himself to the judge- 
ment upon the first view of two ladies to whom he was till that moment a perfect 
stranger ! Grant White : It would seem very superfluous to point out that * eyes * 
and 'judgement* are the emphatic words here, were it not for Warburton's pro- 
posal. Walker {Crit. ii, 7): Siu^ly our. *Your' occurs twice just before, and 
three times immediately after, which probably helped to mislead the printer's eye. 
Coleridge also says * your ' should surely be our. * But,' says Wright, * the mean- 
ing is, " If you used the senses and reason which you possess " ' [which is substan- 
tially the same interpretation as Johnson's, Heath's, White's, and Cowden-Clarke's, 
and which I cannot but think the true one. — Ed.] 

172. own safetie] Is not this second ' own ' suspicious? — Ed. 

175, 176. wil . . . might] For other instances of the irregular sequence of tenses, 
see Abbott, § 370. 

178. wherein] Capell: This does not seem express'd with that neatness which 
is so conspicuous in this play above any of the others ; For with what propriety can 
Orlando be said to be guilty in the ladies' hard thoughts ? or why confess himself 
guilty in those thoughts. He might indeed confess himself guilty, in denying their 
request; and this leads to what (perhaps) is the true reading, herein: < wherein' 



ACT I, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 39 

fo faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your 
feire eies, and gentle wifhes go with mee to my triall; i8o 
wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one fhamM that was 
neuer gracious : if kilM, but one dead that is willing to 
be fo : I fhall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to 
lament me:the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: 
onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better 185 
fupplied, when I haue made it emptie. 

kof. The little ftrength that I haue, I would it were 
with you. 

Cel. And mine to eeke out hers. 

Rof. Fare you welhpraie heauen I be deceiuM in you. 190 

CeL Your hearts defires be with you. 

187. tkafl Om. Rowe. 191. Cel.] Orlando. Theob. Han. 

189. eeke (ml] eekout FjF^. Warb. 

stands at the head of another period, only two lines below ; which might be the occa- 
sion of its getting in here. [This conjecture of OtpelPs has been generally credited 
to Mason, who also proposed it, probably independently. The latter observes] : 
As the word * wherein ' must always refer to something preceding, I have no doubt 
but there is an error in this passage, and that we ought to read herein^ instead of 
* wherein.' The hard thoughts that he complains of are the apprehensions expressed 
by the ladies of his not being able to contend with the wrestler. He beseeches that 
they will not punish him with them. Malonb : The meaning, I think, is, Punish me not 
with your unfavourable opinion (of my abilities) ; wkich, however ^ I confess, I deserve 
to incur^ for denying such fair ladies any request. [Staunton quotes this ; and Calde- 
cott's }>araphrase is substantially the same.] Knight : Mason says ' the hard thoughts 
that he complains of are the apprehensions expressed by the ladies of his not being 
able to contend with the wrestler.' Hard thoughts ! The tender interest which the 
ladies take in his safety to be called * hard thoughts ' — to be complained of? Surely 
the meaning is, Punish me not with your hard thoughts, because I confess me much 
guilty to deny what you ask. < Wherein ' is decidedly used in the sense of in that. 
Walker {^Crit. i, 309) suspects * wherein,* and Dyce (ed. iii) adds that it is 'justly* 
suspected. Wright : The construction is loose, and we must supply as antecedent 
some such expression as ' in this business,* or, as Malone suggests, *■ of my abilities.* 
Knight's interpretation would make very good sense, but \because or in that"] is not 
the meaning of * wherein.* Mr Spedding would omit * wherein ' altogether. 

178. me] For instances of ' me ' used for myself see Abbott, § 223. 

182. gracious] Singer : Anciently used in the sense of the Italian gratiato, t. /. 
grcued^ favoured^ countenanced; as well as for graceful^ comely ^ well-favoured^ in 
which sense Shakespeare uses it in other places. 

185. onely] This transposition is common in Shakespeare; we have another 
instance in 'the onely prologues' in V, iii, 12. Compare 'Which touching but my 
gentle vessel's side,' Mer. of Ven. I, i, 37, or line 50 in the same scene, « Therefore 
my merchandise makes me not sad.' Abbott, §$420^ 42X, gives other examples. 
—Ed. 



40 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. il 

Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is fo 192 
defirous to lie with his mother earth / 

Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modeft 
working, 195 

Duk. You fhall trie but one fall. 

Ota. No, I warrant your Grace you (hall not entreat 
him to a fecond, that haue fo mightilie perfwaded him 
from a firft. 

Orl. You meane to mocke me after : you fhould not 200 
haue mockt me before : but come your waies. 

Rof. Now Hercules, be thy fpeede yong man. 

CeL I would I were inuifible, to catch the ftrong fel- 
low by the legge. Wrajlle. 

Rof. Oh excellent yong man. 205 

CeL If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who 
fhould downe. Shout. 

Duk. No more, no more. 

Orl. Yes I befeech your Grace , I am not yet well 
breath'd. 210 

Duk. How do'ft thou Charles} 

194. in if] it in Var. *2i (misprint?) 204. Wraflle.] They Wraftle FjF^. 

201. mockt me] mockt F.F^ Rowe, 208. Charles is thrown. Rowe et 

Pope, Han. seq. 

200. You meane] Theobald (Zt/. Illust. ii, 329) : Should not this be *An^ you 
mean,' &c. ? Mason (p. 8?) : I believe we should read, ^If you mean,' &c. Cam- 
bridge Editors ( to whom Theobald's conj. had occurred independently) remark 
(Note v) : And for an is a more probable reading than ^ as it may have been omitted 
by the printer, who mistook it for part of the stage direction — * Orl. and * for * Orland.* 

204. Wrastle] In a notice (5^. Jakrbuch^ ii, 274) of certain performances of 
Shakespeare's plays in Munich, Bodenstedt mentions that, on one occasion, this 
wrestling-match was so arranged behind barriers that only the upper halves of the 
wrestlers' bodies were visible to the audience. Whether or not this arrangement is 
novel, or has been adopted elsewhere, I do not know, but it seems to be highly com- 
mendable, as far as it goes. It is questionable if the barriers might not be made much 
higher to advantage. Wrestling is a sport so unusual at this day and in this country, 
and our stage Orlandos and Charleses are generally such feeble adepts in it, that this 
match, as it is usually seen, is far from thrilling, and we are amazed not so much at 
Orlando's prowess as at Charles's accommodating mortality .^£d. 

204, 207. Note the imperative mood of these stage-directions, indicating a stage 
copy. — ^Ed. 

207. downe] For the omission of verbs of motion before certain adverbs, see 
Abbott, §§ 30, 41, &c. 

210. breath'd] Schmidt: That is, in the full display of my strength. Equivalent 
to mis en haleine. 



w. 



ACT I, sc. il] AS YOU LIKE IT 41 

Le Beu. He cannot fpeake my Lord. 212 

Duk. Beare him awai e : 
What is thy name yong man ? 

Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongeft fonne of Sir Ro- 215 
land de Boys. 

Duk. I would thou hadft beene fon to fome man elfe, 
The world efteem'd thy father honourable, 
But I did finde him ftill mine enemie : 

Thou fhould'ft haue better pleasM me with this deede, 220 

Hadft thou defcended from another houfe : 
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth, 
I would thou hadft told me of another Father. 

Exit Duke. . 

Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this ? 225 

Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands fonne, 
His yongeft fonne, and would not change that calling 
To be adopted heire to Fredricke. 

Rof. My Father louM Sir Roland as his foule, 
And all the world was of my Fathers minde, 230 

Had I before knowne this yong man his fonne, 
I fhould haue g^uen him teares vnto entreaties, 
Ere he fhould thus haue ventured 

CeL Gentle Cofen, 234 

213, 214. Prose, Pope et seq. Theob. 

215, 216. Roland de Boys] Rowland 224. Scene VII. Pope+. 

de Boyes Ff. 226. fnore] most Han. 

224. Exit...] Exit.. .with his train. 22y. /onm,"] son; — Cap. 

219. still] That is, constantly. See Shakespeare passim, 

220. should'st] An instance of the peculiar use of should^ to which attention was 
called in Mer, of Ven. Ill, ii, 289. It is not the past tense of shall^ nor does it sug- 
gest compulsion or 'bounden duty' (see Abbott, §322)^ Of course, at the present 
time we should use nwfiii/.— Ed. 

227. yongest sonne] Malons suggests that some such phrase as 'than to be 
descended from any other house, however high,* is to be understood. It is almost 
superfluous to remark that Capell*s punctuation has been adopted since his day, 
whereby the 'sentence is shown to be incomplete ; < such things,* says Capell, < have 
their beauty in a free dialogue.' 

227. calling] Steevens: That is, appellation; a very unusual, if not unprece- 
dented, sense of the word. [It is the only instance given by Schmidt with this mean- 
ing, who says that, in the sense of vocation^ profession^ < it is always used of the eccle- 
siastical profession, except in Per. IV, ii, 43,' where Pandar says, * Neither is our 
profession any trade ; it's no calling ;* it is just possible that even in Pericles there 
is no exception to the general usage.— Ed.] 



43 AS YOU LIKE IT [act I. SC n. 

Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him : 235 

My Fathers rough and enuious difpofition 

Sticks me at heart : Sir, you haue well deferu'd, 

If you doe keepe your promifes in loue ; 

But iuftly as you haue exceeded all promife, 

Your Miftris ihall be happie. 240 

Rof. Gentleman, 
Weare this for me : one out of fuites with fortune 242 

237. SHck5'\ SHckes F,. 239. all'\ Om. Cap. Stecv. Dycc iii, 
nu at'\at my Han. Huds. 

238. lou€ ;'\ love, Ff. love Cap. promi/e] in promife Ff, Rowe, 

239. iufily\ justly y Cap. Pope, Theo^. Warb. promise here 
as... promi/e^ as you^ve exceeded Ktly. 

promise Han. 242. fortune'] fortune; Cap. 

236. enuious] Dycs: Malicious. 

237. at heart] This is, I think, an instance of the absorption of the definite article 
in the dental termination of * at.* This absorption, originally adopted for the sake of 
ease in pronunciation, led gradually to the omission of the article in other cases, as in 

• milk comes frozen home in pail^ or in * spectacles on nose and pouch on side.^^^ED. 

239. iustly] Knight : In the degree that you have gone beyond all expectation : 
but as justly. Wright : That is, exactly. Compare the use of * righteously,' line 13. 

239. exceeded] Walker (Crit. i, 288) : Read, metri gratiH^ exceWd» I think, 
too, * as y* have here exceird,* &c. as an antitheton to * in love.* 

239. all promise] White (ed. i, referring to ' in promise * of the Ff ) : But Or- 
lando had not exceeded all in promise ; he, or his performances, exceeded all promise. 

242. Weare this] Theobald (ed. i) : There is nothing in the sequel of this scene 
expressing what it is that Rosalind here gives to Orlando. Afterwards, in the third 
Act, when Rosalind has found a copy of verses in the woods writ on herself, and Celia 
asks her whether she knows who has done this, Rosalind replies, by way of question, 

* Is it a man ?* To which Celia again replies, < Ay, and a Chain that you once wore^ 
about his neck.* Lady Martin (p. 410) : Rosalind needs not the prompting of her 
cousin to < go thank him and encourage him ;' but while Celia finds ready words, 
Rosalind's deeper emotion suggests to her a stronger token of the admiration he has 
roused. She has taken a chain from her neck, and stealthily kissing it — at least I 
always used to do so— she gives it to Orlando, saying (11. 242, 243). Here she pauses, 
naturally expecting some acknowledgement from Orlando ; but finding none come, 
and not knowing how to break off an interview that has kindled a strange emotion 
within her, she adds, ' Shall we go, coz ?' Celia, heart-whole as she is, has no such 
difficulty. <Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman,* she says, and turns away. 

242. suites] Johnson : This seems an allusion to cards, where he that has no 
more cards to play of a particular sort, is out of suit, Steevens : It means, I believe, 
turned out of her service, and stripped of her livery. Malone : So afterwards Celia 
says, < but turning those /u/r out ofservice^ let us talk in good earnest.* CaldecX)TT : 
Its import seems equivalent to < out of her books or graces.* Halliwell records the 
conjecture of < an anonymous critic, " out of sorts^^ that is, discontented with the blind 
goddess ; and another suggests the explanation << out of her favour,'* and not obtaining 



ACTi.sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 43 

That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes, 243 

Shall we goe Coze ? 

CeL I : fare you well faire Gentleman, 245 

OrL Can I not fay, I thanke you? My better parts 

Are all throwne downe, and that which here ftands vp 

Is but a quintine, a meere liuelefle blocke. 248 

243. c<mld'\ vxnUd Han. Dyce ill, Coll. neck. Theob. 

iii. 245. /] Ay Rowe. 

nuanes\ meane F,. 248. meere\ more F^, Rowe. 

244. Giving him a chain from her liueUJfe'\ lifeless Rowe ii 

the smts^ the petitions, she addressed other.' Wright also suggests < one to whose 
entreaties Fortune grants no favours, ¥rith a play upon the other meaning of the word,' 
namely livery. [See Winter's note on II, vii, 47.] 

243. could giue more] Caldecott : That is, who could find in her heart to give 
more, were her ability greater. Wright refers to what Anthony says of Fulvia, 
< She's good, being gone ; The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on,' Ant, 
6* Cleop. I, ii, 131. 

246. better parts] Caldecott : Compare * it hath cow'd my better part of man,' 
Macb. V, viii, 18 ; that is, his spirit. We may therefore conclude that by these terms 
ipirit and sense were meant here. 

248. quintine] Warburton, to whom, despite his arrogant and offensive style, 
we must concede ingenuity, thus interprets this allusion, which he pronounces < beau- 
tiiid ' : A quintain was a post or butt set up for several kinds of martial exercises, against 
which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. < I am,' says Orlando, < only 
a quintain, a lifeless block, on which love only exercises his arms in jest, the great 
disparity in condition between Rosalind and me, not suffering me to hope that love 
will ever make a serious matter of it.* Whereupon, Guthrie {Crit, Review\ 1765, 
vol. XX, p. 407) called Warburton to task, and denied that the ' quintaine ' was the 
object of darts and arms, in fact, < it was a stake driven into a field, upon which were 
hung a shield and other trophies of war, at which they shot, darted, or rode, with a 
lance. When the shield and the trophies were all thrown down, the ** quintaine " 
remained. Without this information how could the reader understand the allusion of 
•* my better parts are all thrown down " ? &c.' As there seems to be here a difference 
of opinion as to the exact nature of a < quintain,' all the archaeological resources of the 
commentators were summoned to the field ' to fight for a spot,' as Steevens says, quot- 
mg Hamlet, < whereon the numbers cannot try the cause ;' and the consequence is that 
we have page upon page of explanations, and quotations from Latin, French, Italian, 
and English sources, accompanied by many wood-cuts and engravings, all of which 
•re extremely valuable as an archaeological contribution to the subject, but throw little 
light on Orlando's allusion other than is revealed in the definition of a quintain as 
given by Strutt and quoted below. For ampler researches those who list may consult : 
Grey, vol. i, pp. 171-173; Whiter, pp. 9-13; Variorum of '21, pp. 514-519; Calde- 
cott, Appendix^ p. 4; Knight, Illustrations y p. 220; Brand, Pop. Antiq. i, 177; ii, 163 
(Bohn's ed. ; several other authorities are there cited, some whereof are quoted by 
Wright); Theobald (Nichols's Lit, lUus. ii, 329), who cites Stow's Survay ; and 
Halliwell ad loc. The extract from Strutt (p. 112, ed. Hone, 1 841) is as follows: 
* Tilting or combating at the quintain is certainly a military exercise of high antiquity> 



44 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sa il 

Rof, He cals vs back : my pride fell with my fortuneS| 
He aske him what he would : Did you call Sir? 250 

Sir, you haue wraftled well, and ouerthrowne 
More then your enemies. 252 

249. fortunes^ forttmes F,Fj. fortunes, F^. 

and antecedent, I doubt not, to the justs and tournaments. The quintain, originally, 
was nothing more than the trunk of a tree or post set up for the practice of the tyros 
in chivalry. Afterward a stafif or spear was fixed in the earth, and a shield, being 
hung upon it, was the mark to strike at ; the dexterity of the performer consisted in 
smiting the shield in such a manner as to break the ligatures and bear it to the ground. 
In process of time this diversion was improved, and instead of the stafif and the shield, 
the resemblance of a himian figure carved in wood was introduced. To render the 
appearance of this figure more formidable, it was generally made in the likeness of a 
Turk or Saracen, armed at all points, bearing a shield upon his left arm, and brandish- 
ing a club or sabre with his right. Hence this exercise was called by the Italians 
** running at the armed man, or at the Saracen." The quintain thus fashioned was 
placed upon a pivot, and so contrived as to move round with great facility. In running 
at this figure it was necessary for the horseman to direct his lance with great adroitness, 
and make his stroke upon the forehead between the eyes or upon the nose ; for if he 
struck wide of those parts, especially upon the shield, the quintain turned about with 
much velocity, and, in case he was not exceedingly careful, would give him a severe 
blow upon the back with the wooden sabre held in the right hand, which was con- 
sidered as highly disgraceful to the performer, while it excited the laughter and ridi- 
cule of the spectators.' ' There were other kinds of quintains,' adds Dyce, < but the 
words of Orlando, ** a quintain, a mere lifeless block ^^ seem to show that Shakespeare 
alludes to the kind above described.' The simile itself was suggested, as Whiter 
says in substance, not only by the feats of activity which were then going forward, but 
by the assault upon his own heart which he had just experienced; 'the phrases 
<< thrown down " and " stands up " were impressed on Shakespeare's mind by the 
subject of wrestling which had just occupied his attention ;' it is Winter's endeavour, 
be it remembered, in his thoughtful book, to explain various passages on the principle 
of Locke's doctrine of the Association of Ideas. — ^£d. 

250-252. Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833, p. 550, qu, Campbell ?) : Giving 
him a chain from her neck ! How much worthier of a woman such frankness, not 
unaccompanied with reserve, than the pride that sat in the eyes of high-bom beauty, 
as with half-averted face she let drop glove or scarf to her kneeling knight, with silent 
permission to dye it for her sake in his heart's blood ! Not for all the world would 
Rosalind have sent her wrestler to the wars. But, believe us, she said aside to Celia, 
and in an undertone, though looking on Orlando, < Sir, you have wrestled well, and 
overthrown More than your enemies.' She felt it was so, and could not help saying 
it, but she intended not that Orlando should hear the words, nor did he. All he heard 
was, < Did you call, sir?' So far <she urged conference,' and no farther; and 'twas 
the guileless hypocrisy of an unsuspecting heart! For our own parts, we see no 
reason in nature, had circumstances allowed it, why they should not have been 
married on the spot 

252. Lady Martin (p. 411) : This 'more than your enemies' is very significant 
and speaks plainly enough, though spoken as it would be, with great reserve of 



ACT I, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 45 

CeL Will you goe Cozef 253 

Rof. Haue with you : fare you well. ExiU 

OrLVJhdX paflion hangs thefe waights vp5 my toong? 255 
I cannot fpeake to her, yet fhe vrg^d conference. 

Enter Le Beu. 
O poore Orlando ! thou art ouerthrowne 
Or Charles, or fomething weaker mafters thee. 

Le Beu.Good Sir, I do in friendfhip counfaile you 260 

Te leaue this place ; Albeit you haue deferu'd 
High commendation, true applaufe, and loue; 
Yet fuch is now the Dukes condition. 
That he mifconfters all that you haue done : 264 

257. Enter...] Re-enter... (after line 261. Te] F,. 

259), Dyce. 264. mifconfters\ misconstrues Pope. 

manner, of the favorable impression which the young wrestler has made upon her. 
We may be sure that, but for his modest demeanour, Rosalind would not have allowed 
herself to confess so much. 

253. Lady Martin (p. 411): Celia, amused, and disposed to rally her cousin 
about what looks to her rather more than ' falling in love in sport,* accosts Rosalind 
mockingly in the phrase she has used but a few minutes before, < Will you go, coz ?' 
' Have with you,* Rosalind rejoins, quite understanding the roguish sparkle in her 
cousin's eyes, but not deterred by it from giving to Orlando as she goes an earnest 
* Fare you well.* But she is still slow to leave, hoping and longing for some words 
from his lips addressed to herself. When Celia takes her hand and is leading her 
away, Celia bows slightly to Orlando ; but Rosalind in a royal and gentle manner 
curtseys to him, wishing to show her respect for the memory of his father, the dear 
friend of her father, and also her sympathy with his misfortunes. These she can give 
him, if nothing else. This scene, you will agree, needs most delicate touching in the 
actress. Rosalind has not much to say, but she has to make her audience feel by 
subtle indications the revolution that is going on in her own heart from the moment 
her eyes fall upon her future lover, down to the parting glance with which her fare* 
well is accompanied. It is Juliet in the ball-room, but under conditions that demand 
a far greaCer variety of expression. There is no avowal of love ; but when she linger* 
ingly leaves the stage, the audience must have been made to feel that in her case, as 
in Juliet's, her heart has made its choice, and that a change has come over her akin 
to that which has come over Orlando. OxoN (p. 49) : When Celia sees that Rosa- 
lind has fallen in love with Orland6,'she checks her desire to return and speak to 
him once more, because she sees that her cousin's effusiveness is carrying her a little 
too far; and she utters ' Will you go, coz ?* in a /am satis tone. 

259. Or . . . or] Abbott, $ 136 : There is perhaps a disposition to revert to the 
old idiom : other .... other. The contraction of other into < or * is illustrated by 
wh^er for whether in Old English and the Elizabethan dramatists. 

263. condition] Johnson: It here means character^ temper^ disposition. So 
Anthonio, in the *Mer, of Ven, is called by his friend < the best condition'd man.' 



46 AS YOU LIKE IT [ACTl.saiL 

The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede 265 

264. misconsters] < This form/ says Dyce (Remarks, p. 54), * is common in our 
early writers.' It represents the early pronmiciation, which was probably in a transi- 
tion state when the Folio was printing. We find this same form in / Hen. VI : II, 
iii, 73 (p. 103, a, F,) : * Be not dismayed, faire Lady, nor mi/confter The minde of 
Talbot;' and also in Rick, III: III, v, 61 (p. 190, b, F^) : ^Mifc<mfter vs in him and 
wayle his death,' and again, * I be mifconfterd in the place I go,' Mer. of Ven, II, ii, 
1S4; but in the only other passages where the word occurs we have the spelling mis- 
construe: <Alas, thou hail mi/conftrued euerything,' Jul, Cas. V, iii, 84 (p. 129, a, 
F,) ; and * So much mi/conftrued in his Wantonneffe,* / Hen, IV: V, ii, 69 (p. 70, b, 
F,). See also confter in Otk, IV, i, 118, and note in this edition, where all the 
instances are given of the occurrence of that word in the Folio ; from which list it 
appears that it was spelled conster three times and construe eight times ; in R, 0/ Z. 
and in Pass. Pilg. it is spelled conster; so that the proportion stands five to eight, and 
shows, I think, that the pronunciation was in a state of transition. See also Greene's 
James tke Fourtky p. io6, ed. Dyce ; and Peek's Tke Arraignment of Paris, p. 24, 
ed. Dyce, where Dyce cites a passage from Marston in which conster rhymes with 
»«wM/fr.— Ed. 

265. humorous] This is defined as capricious by Caldecott, Knight, Dyce, Staun- 
ton, Wright, and Rolfe; Dyce vAd^ perverse, and Staunton Xo perverse adds comtrarp- 
ous, Halliwell's first definition is capricious, but he continues, * it is sometimes used 
in the sense oi fantastic, iht meaning given to the word by Minsheu, or, perhaps, 
peevisk, wayivard, as Coles has it, translating it by morosus. Cotgrave has, "Averti- 
neux, moodie, humorous;"- and again, *^ Avoir le cerveau un peu gaillard, to be 
humorous, t03rish, fantasticall, new-fangled." ' Despite this general agreement, I 
doubt if ' humorous ' is here exactly defined by capricious, or if capricidus exactly 
defines the Duke. The Duke's predominant trait seems to be suspicion, bred of the 
treachery to his brother. This suspicion blazes forth at times, as in such inconstant 
starts as the banishment of Rosalind, but it is persistent and consistent, which can 
scarcely be affirmed of a temperament that is capricious. Moreover, it would never 
do to call the Duke's conversion and reconciliation to the Church, in the Fifth Act, a 
caprice. Yet this humorousness, whatever it be, is emphasised as a characteristic of 
the Duke. He is twice called * humorous ' ; here by Le Beau, and again by old 
Adam. The only other instance where 'humorous' is used in this play is where 
Jaques thus characterises his melancholy ; and surely if any melancholy were ever 
ingrained and persistent, and less liable to freaks or caprices, it is Jaques's ; he him- 
self says expressly that it is not * fantastic' It behooves us, then, I think, to find a 
meaning for 'humorous' somewhat nicer than merely capricious, Ben Jonson, in 
the Induction to Every Man Out of kis Humour, gives a definition of * hmnour,' 
which, contemporaneous as it is, is more likely to be exact than any modem attempt to 
define it ; from * humour ' the meaning may be presumably extended to ' humorous.* 
Asper says to Mitis, < When some one peculiar quality Doth so possess a man, that it 
doth draw All his affects, his spirits, and his powers. In their confluctions, all to run 
one way, This may be truly said to be a humour.' Such a dominant trait, then, as 
this, it would be hardly correct to term a caprice, or a man thus dominated, capricious. 
A man thus 'humorous* may be keacbtrong, wayward, and his 'humour' may 
assume an odd, extraordinary turn, but it would be steady, persistent, and by no means 
capricious; it might manifest itself unexpectedly, but all the 'humorous' man*s 
'afiects would run one way.' Wherefore, I think, and I speak with difiidence, 



ACT I. sc. il] AS YOU LIKE IT 47 

More fuites you to conceiue,then I to fpeake o£ 266 

Orl. I thanke you Sir ; and pray you tell me this, 

Which of the two was daughter of the Duke, 

That here was at the Wraftling ? 
Le 5^«.Neither his daughter,if we iudge by manners, 270 

But yet indeede the taller is his daughter, 

The other is daughter to the banifh'd Duke, 

And here detained by her vfurping Vncle 

To keepe his daughter companie, whofe loues 

Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sifters : 275 

266. /] nu Rowe+,Cap. Mai. Steev. 271. taller] Ff, Cam. shorter Rowc 

Coll. Sing. Ktly. ii + » Cap. Steev. Cald. Knt, Coll. ii, Dyce 

268. the] these Rowe. ill, Huds. smaller Mai. Bos. Coll. i, Sing. 
of the Duke'] to the Duke F^F^ Wh. i, Dyce i, Qke, Rife, lower Sta, less 

Rowe. taller KUy. lesser Spedding, Wr. Wh. ii. 

269. was] were Han. Cap. Dyce iii. 272. other is] other's Pope + . 

< homoroiis ' in the present play is more nearly defined by wayward^ headstrong^ obsti- 
nate, than by capricious. — Ed. 

266. then I] See line 17 supra, and I, i, 160. Abbott, § 216 : After a conjmic- 
tion and before an infinitive we often find /, thou, &c., where in Latin we should 
have * me,' * te,* &c The conjmiction seems to be regarded as introducing a new 
sentence, instead of connecting one clause with another. Hence the pronoun is put 
in the nominative, and a verb is perhaps to be supplied fix)m the context. Thus here, 
' More suits you to conceive than I (find it suitable) to speak of,' i. e. * than that I 
should speak of it' [See also Hunter's plea (i, 344) for retaining archaic forms, 
urged at a time when there was need of it ; nor is it altogether needless now-a-days, 
when we find as good a scholar as Keightley changing < I ' to me. — Ed.] 

271. taller] See Text Notes. Malone: Some change is absolutely necessary; 
for Rosalind, in a subsequent scene, expressly says that she is * more than common 
tall,* and assigns that as a reason for her assuming the dress of a man, while her 
cousin Celia retained her female apparel. Again, in IV, iii, Celia is described by 
these words, * the woman low, and browner than her brother ;' f . e. Rosalind. [As 
between shorter and smaller, Malone urges that the latter is much < nearer to the cor- 
rupted reading.'] Steevens : Shakespeare sometimes speaks of little women, but I 
do not recollect that he, or any other writer, has mentioned small ones. Malone : 
Small is used to express lowness of stature in Greeners James the Fourth [Act IV, ad 
fin.] : < But my small son made prettie hansome shift To save the queene his mistresse 
by his speed.' Knight : Shakespeare uses short with reference to a woman — * Leo- 
nato's short daughter,' Much Ado, I, i, 216. [This is one of the very rare omissions 
in Mrs Cowden-Qarke's Concordance, s. v. short.] Collier, in his First Edition, 
approves of Malone's smaller, and adds that ' shorter and ** daughter " read disso- 
nantly ;' but in his second edition, influenced by his Old Corrector, he adopts the 
* dissonant ' shorter. Walker [Cril. iii, 60) : I suspect this is a slip of Shakespeare's 
pen. The word he had in his thoughts was probably shorter^ not smaller, which in 
this sense belongs to later English. 



48 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. ii. 

But I can tell you, that of late this Duke 276 

Hath tane difpleafure *gainft his gentle Neece, 

Grounded vpon no other argument, 

But that the people praife her for her vertues, 

And pittie her, for her good Fathers fake ; 280 

And on my life his malice 'gainft the Lady 

Will fodainly breake forth : Sir, fare you well, 

Hereafter in a better world then this, 

I fhall defire more loue and knowledge of you. 

Orl. I reft much bounden to you : fare you well. 285 

Thus muft I from the fmoake into the fmother, 
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother, 
But heauenly Rofaline. Exit. 288 

277. tane\ ta'm Rowe. 2S4. Exit Rowe. 

Neece] Neice Fj. 285. fare you well] fareyomvell F,. 

279. Jur vertues] vertues F,. 

283. better world] Steevens: So in Car. II I, iii, 135: < There is a world else 
where.' Wright: That is, in a better age or state of things. [Wordsworth (p 
300) interprets this as an expression of faith and hope, and as an allusion to the world 
beyond the grave. To me Wright's interpretation is decidedly the true one ; Words- 
worth's interpretation (which is undoubtedly a mere oversight on the part of the 
gentle and reverend author), would be singularly inappropriate under the drcum* 
stances. — ^£d.] 

286. smother] Wright; Out of the fiying-pan into the fire. < Smother' is the 
thick, stifling smoke of a smouldering fire. Bacon uses ' to pass in smother,' for to be 
stifled^ in Essay xxvii, p. 112; and * to keep in smother' for to stifle, in Essay xxxi, 

p. 134. 

2S8. MoBERLY : These words are said and prolonged with a burst of enthusiasm 

which sweeps away all his gloomy reflections. 



ACT I, sc iu.] AS YOU LIKE IT 49 



Scena Terttus. 



Enter Celia and Rof aline. 

CeU Why Cofen, why Rofaline : Cupid haue mercie, 
Not a word ? 

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog. 

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caft away 5 

vpon curs, throw fome of them at me ; come lame mee 
with reafons. 

Rof. Then there were two Cofens laid vp, when the 
one fhould be lam'd with reafons, and the other mad 
without any. lO 

CeL But is all this for your Father ? 

Rof. No, fome of it is for my childes Father ; Oh 
how full of briers is this working day world. 13 

2. Cofen\ Co/n F,. 12. childes Father] father's child 

Rofaline'\ Rofeline F^. Rowe ii, Pope, Han. Warb. Johns. Knt, 

5. thy\ my F,F^. Dyce, Coll. (MS) ii, Clke, KUy, Huda, 
precious] precoitms F,. Coll. iii, Wh. ii. 

6. come] come, Ff. 13. day tvorld] day-world F^. 

I, 2. Rosaline] This spelling, and where it again occurs in this scene, lines 93 
and loi, Walker (Crit, ii, 66) attributes to the frequent confusion in the Folio of the 
final d and e. It may be so ; but the frequency with which it occurs (for these are 
not the only instances) indicates that, as was natural, in common pronunciation the 
final d was somewhat slurred. That the name was Rosalind is made sure by 
Orlando's verses and Touchstone's doggerel in the Third Act. — Ed. 

9. mad] Is this word quite above suspicion ? Is it not somewhat early for Rosa- 
lind to confess herself madly in love ? Or is it that she is mad, thus to love without 
reason ? — Ed. 

II. Father] Moberly : The reason which Rosalind had given for her sadness in 
Scene ii. Imagine the ironical accent on this word. 

12. my childes Father] Theobald: That is, 'some of it is for my Sweetheart, 
whom I hope to marry and have children by.* Coleridge (p. 108) : Who can doubt 
that this is a mistake for ' my father's child,' meaning herself? According to Theo- 
bald's note, a most indelicate anticipation is put into the mouth of Rosalind without 
reason ; and besides, what a strange thought and how out of place and unintelligible ! 
[I do not care to discuss this passage. It is enough to give, as above, the two most 
eminent advocates on the opposing sides. Further discussion cannot but emphasise 
the thought, whereof the purity or impurity will depend on the bias of the reader ; 
' the wonn, look you, will bite after its kind.' It is well, however, in this case, and 
4 



50 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. iil 

CeL They are but burs, Cofen, throwne vpon thee 
in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths 15 

our very petty-coates will catch them. 

Rof. I could fhake them off my coate, thefe burs are 
in my heart. 

CeL Hem them away. 

Rof. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him. 20 

CeL Come, come, wraftle with thy affeftions. 

Rof. O they take the part of a better wraftler then 
my felfe. 

CeL O, a good wi(h vpon you : you will trie in time 
in difpight of a fall: but turning thefe lefts out of feruice, 25 

let vs talke in good earned : Is it poffible on fuch a fo- 
daine, you fhould fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir 
Roulands yongeft fonne ? 28 

Vj. ftrong\ftrange F^F^, Rowe. 28. Roulands] F,. 

in all similar cases (which will, hereafter, in this play receive, in the Commentary, no 
notice at my hands), to bear in mind that modes of thought and of speech, as well as 
of manners, shift and change from age to age as widely as do the costumes, and that 
every age must be measured by its own standard. Moberly says, ' Shakespeare would 
have smiled * at Rowe's emendation. Mrs Jameson says wisely : ' If the freedom of 
some of the expressions used by Rosalind or Beatrice be objected to, let it be remem- 
bered that this was not the fault of Shakespeare or the women, but generally of the 
age. Portia, Beatrice, Rosalind, and the rest, lived in times when more importance 
was attached to things than to words ; now we think more of words than of things ; 
and happy are we in these later days of super-refinement, if we are to be saved by 
our verbal morality.' — Ed.] 

20. cry hem, and haue him] According to Warburton, this is a proverbial 
expression signifying * having for asking * ; Walker also {Crit. ii, 168) thinks that < it 
must be a proverbial expression,' and adds, ' though I cannot find it in Ray,' wherein 
the present editor also has looked for it in vain. Moberly surmises that it is < a game 
like hunt-the-slipper.' Is it, however, necessary, after all, to find any deeper meaning 
than the merest play on words in * hem ' and < him ' ? — Ed. 

24. a good wish upon you] Used where < my blessing on you ' would be too 
strong.— Ed. 

25. The page in the Folio, which begins with this line, is wrongly numbered 187 ,. 
It should be 189. — Ed. 

26. 27. such a sodaine] Wright : Shakespeare uses < on a sudden,' * of a sud- 
den,' and ' on the sudden,' elsewhere, but not * on such a sudden.' 

27. strong] As far as I know, Walker {Crit. iii, 23) is the only critic who 
approves of strange of F^F^, for which, I think, much could be urged here, apart 
from the fact that confusion has elsewhere arisen between these two words (cf. * O 
strong and fasten'd villain ' of Q, in Lear II, i, 77). Rosalind, by pleading the ol** 
mutual love of their parents, gives merely a reason for loving Orlando at all, and why 



ACT I. ISC. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 51 

Rof. The Duke my Father louM his Father deerelie. 

CeL Doth it therefore enfue that you (hould loue his 30 

Sonne deerelie ? By this kinde of chafe, I Ihould hate 
him, for my father hated his father deerely ; yet I hate 
not Orlando. 

Rof. No faith, hate him not for my fake. 

CeL Why fhould I not / doth he not deferue well ? 35 

34. nat'\ nor F,. 35. he not'^ not he F^F^, Rowe i. 

35. /iM//] // Cap. Dyce iii. 

Ihat love should not be strange^ but she would scarcely urge this parental love in the 
post as a reason for vehemently loving him now. — Ed. 

29. MoBERLY : A line of much resource for a good actress ; capable of being 
shaded from the purely sentimental into the convincingly logical. 

31. chase] Johnson : That is, by this way oi following the argument Whiter 
(p. 93) : Can the reader doubt that Shakespeare fell into this expression by a combi- 
nation arising from the similar sounds of *■ dear ' and deer t That our ancient writers 
have sometimes quibbled on these words may be urged as an argument to convince 
the reader how easy and natural it is for our Author to be led into such an associa- 
tioo; altho^Qi, in the present instance, not the most distant allusion to this equivocal 
m^^TLvn^ was intended by the Poet [To the unconscious association of ideas sug- 
gested by Whiter, I think there may be fairly added the association arising frt>m the 
word < ensue,* to which Allen calls attention in a brief marginal note : < ensue —pur- 
sue (" seek peace and ensue it "). Therefore Celia adds : " by this kind of chase ** — 
porsmng "/oUawing ( — logical sequence, inference.)' — Ed.] 

3a. deerely] Cf. 'my dearest foe,* Ham, I, ii, 182, and notes in this edition, 
where Clarendon's concise statement is given : < dear is used of whatever touches 
OS nearly, either in love or hate, joy or sorrow.' 

35. should I not] Theobald (Nichols, Lit, Illust. ii, 330) : Either the negative 
aboold be expunged, or it would be clearer to read, * Why should I hate.* [This 
lemarky which was in a private letter to Warburton, was not subsequently repeated in 
Theobald's edition. Capell's omission of the negative was therefore original with 
him.] Malone : Celia answers Rosalind (who had desired her ' not to hate Orlando, 
for her sake ') as if she had said ' love him, for my sake :' to which the former replies, 
* Why should I not [1. e. love him] ?' So, in the following passage, in Hen, VIII: 
' Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected ?' 
Ukcontemn^d must be understood as if the author had written not contemn' d ; other- 
wise the subsequent words would convey a meaning directly contrary to what the 
q)eaker intends. [It is to be feared that Malone's ingenuity is misplaced.] Calde- 
COTT : Meaning to be understood by reference to that which had preceded, f. /. upon 
a principle stated by yourself, < because my father hated his father, does he not well 
deserve by me /^ A^ hated f while Rosalind, taking the words simply, and without 
any reference, replies, ' Let me love him for that,' i. e. for that he well deserves. Dyce 
(ed. iii) followed Capell in omitting the negative ' as a manifest error, in consequence 
of *• not " occurring just before and just after.' The explanation given by White 
(ed« i), that ' doth he not deserve well ?' means doth he not deserve well to be hated, 
Dyce pfODOonces ' utterly inconsistent with the declaration in Celia's preceding qpeech. 



52 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. iu. 

Enter Duke with Lords. 36 

Rof. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him 
Becaufe I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke. 

CeL With his eies full of anger. 

Duk. Miftris, difpatch you with your (afeft hafle, 40 

And get you from our Court. 

Rof. Me Vncle. 

Duk. You Cofen, 
Within thefe ten daies if that thou beeft found 
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles, 45 

Thou dieft for it. 

Rof. I doe befeech your Grace 
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me : 
If with my felfe I hold intelligence, 49 

36. Scene IX. Pope + . 42, 43. me.., Ybu] me,,,, Vm, Rowe. 
Enter...] In line 38, Coll. 43. Co/m] Om. Han. 

** yet I hate not Orlando." ' [It must be confessed that by this omisslSbf ' not' the 
text is rendered simpler, but at the cost of all archness or irony. Moreover, that Most 
wholesome rule, as wholesome as it is venerable, should never be lost sight of: duriar 
lectio preferendd'sty a necessity all the more urgent now-a-days, since it seems to be 
about the very last rule which occurs, if ever it does occur at all, to the minds of the 
emenders of Shakespeare's text. — Ed.] 

37. me . . . you] These are the emphatic words. 

40. safest] Singer suggests that this is probably a misprint for swiftest. Collier ; 
The Duke means by this epithet to refer to the danger which would attend Rosalind 
if she delayed. The (MS) hzs fastest , but change seems undesirable. Blackwood's 
Magazine (1853, Aug., p. 197) : * Safest haste ' — that is, most convenient despatch- 
is much more probable than ^fastest haste,' inasmuch as the lady to whom the words 
were addressed is allowed ten days to take herself off in. White : In * safest haste * 
there is an unconscious anticipation by the Duke of his subsequent threat. Besides, 
Shakespeare would not needlessly write 'fkstest haste.* Keightley : Safe is sure, 
certain, a sense which it retains in the Midland counties. Moberly : That is, the 
haste which is your best safety. 

42. Vncle] Abbott, § 465, scans this line by * dropping or softening * the le final 
in this word, thus : And g^t | you fr6m | our c6urt. | Me, imc/e F \ You, cotisin. Un- 
questionably this dropping or softening of syllables containing a liquid, final or other- 
wise, in certain words, frequently takes place. But I do not think that we are to 
expect to find it in broken lines. — Ed. 

43. Cosen] Skeat {Diet. s. v.) : A near relative. Formerly applied to a kins- 
man generally, not in the modem restricted way Low Latin cosinus, a contrac- 
tion of Lat. consobrinus^ the child of a mother's sister, a cousin, relation. 

44. 51. if that] For other instances of that as a conjunctional affix set post, line 
122; II, vii, 76; III, V, 99; IV, iii, 121 ; or Abbott, § 287, or Mer, of Ven, III, iii, 
35 ; or Shakespeare passim. 



ACT I. sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 53 

Or haue acquaintance with mine owne defires, 50 

If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke, 
(As I doe truft I am not) then deere Vncle, 
Neuer fo much as in a thought vnborne, 
Did I offend your highneffe. 

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors, 55 

If their purgation did confift in words, 
They are as innocent as grace it felfe ; 
Let it fuffice thee that I truft thee not 

Rof. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a Traitor ; 
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends ? 60 

Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there^s enough. 

Rof. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, 
So was I when your highneffe banifbt him ; 
Treafon is not inherited my Lord, 

Or if we did deriue it from our friends, 65 

What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, 
Then go^kmy Leige, miftake me not fo much, 67 

f 

50. »M>i^] »fy Rowe+. do, likelihoods] likelihood Yiy'Kcmt-k'i 

Cap. Steey. Var. Cald. Knt, Coll. Cam. 

56. purgation] A technical use of a legal term which seems to have escaped 
RusHTON, Lord Campbell, and Heard. Vulgar purgation, as distinguished from 
canonical purgation, demanded not alone oaths, but ordeals by fire, or water, or com- 
bat.— Ed. 

60. likelihoods] See * destinies decrees,' I, ii, loi. Walker (Crit. i, 234) : The 
interpolation of an j at the end of a word, generally, but not always, a noun substan- 
tive, is remarkably frequent in the Folio. Those who are conversant with the MSS 
of the Elizabethan age may perhaps be able to explain its origin. Were it not for the 
different degrees of frequency with which it occurs in different parts of the Folio, 
being comparatively rare in the Comedies (except perhaps in The Wint, Tale), 
appearing more frequently in the Histories, and becoming quite common in the 
Tragedies, I should be inclined to think it originated in some peculiarity of Shake- 
speare's handwriting. [See II, i, 54; or Mer, of Ven. II, ix, 35 and 0th. I, i, 31, 
where several instances are given which had escaped Walker. — Ed.] Allen para- 
phrases : * Tell me on what depends your belief that I am likely to be a traitor.' 

66. no Traitor] Lady Martin (p. 413) : In speaking this I could never help 
laying a slight emphasis on these last words. For what but a traitor had the Duke 
himself been ? The sarcasm strikes home. Moberly : Rosalind's brave spirit will 
not allow her to defend herself at her father's expense or to separate her cause from 
his. There are few passages in Shakespeare more instinctively true and noble than 
this. She had not offended her uncle, even in thought, though every one else was 
doing so. But the least suggestion that her father is a traitor rouses her in arms to 
defend him. 



54 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i. sc. iu. 

To thinke my pouertie is treacherous. 68 

Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me fpeake. 

Duk. I CeliUy we ftaid her for your fake, 70 

Elfe had (he with her Father rang'd along. 

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her ftay, 
It was your pleafure. and your owne remorfe, 
I was too yong that time to value her, 

But now I know her : if fhe be a Traitor, 75 

Why fo am I : we ftill haue flept together, 
Rofe at an inftant, learn' d, plaid, eate together, 
And wherefoere we went, like lunos Swans, 
Still we went coupled and infeperable. 79 

70. weftaid'\ we but staid Pope + . 79. in/eperable F,. 

73. Om. Rowe i. 

67, 68. so much, To thinke] See II, iii, 8 ; also Mer. of Ven. * so fond To come 
abroad/ or Abbott, § 281, for instances of a similar omission of as. 

73. remorse] Steevens: That is, compassion. Dyce: Tenderness of Jieart 

74. that time] See Abbott, § 202, for instances of the omission of the preposition 
in adverbial expressions of time, manner, &c. Thus also *all points' in line 123, 
post. 

76. still] That is, constantly, always ; thus in Shakespeare passim. 

77. an instant] For instances where a is used for one, see Abbott, § 81. 

78. lunos Swans] Wright : No commentator appears to have made any remark 
upon this, but it may be questioned whether for < Juno * we ought not to read Venus, 
to whom, and not to Juno, the swan is sacred. In Ovid's Metam. x, 708, 717, 718, 
the same book which contains the story of Atalanta, who is mentioned in this play, 
and of Adonis, Venus is represented in a chariot drawn by swans. [That this over- 
sight should have escaped Shakespeare's notice is strange, but nothing so strange as 
that during all these many years it lurked undetected, full in the blaze of the fierce 
light that beats on every line of these plays. That it is a mistake there can be no 
doubt, and most probably Shakespeare's own. As Shakespeare's knowledge of myth- 
ology was, in all likelihood, mainly derived from Golding's translation of Ovid, my 
hopes were high that somewhere or other the slip of referring to < Juno's swans ' might 
be found in that volume. Dyce once, half mournfully, half apologetically, referred to 
the < hours he had wasted ' over old, half-forgotten books. Be his sigh re-echoed here. 
The expression < Juno's swans ' is not in the Fifteen Books of Golding's Translation 
of Ovid.— Ed.] 

79. inseperable] Collier (ed. ii): There is no reason for changing this to 
inseparate^ beyond the fact that in the (MS) inseparate is inserted and < inseparable ' 
struck out. Perhaps inseparate is a little more in Shakespeare's manner, but he also 
has * inseparable * in King John, III, iv, 66. White (ed. i) : The F, has * insepa- 
rate^ a reading so consonant with Shakespeare's phraseology, and so rhythmically 
advantageous to the line, that it would be acceptable without question, were not 
authority against it. [An oversight White was thinking of Collier's (MS). F, and 
the rest have inseparable. — Ed.] 



ACT I. sc. iiL] AS YOU LIKE IT 55 

Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her fmoothnes; 80 

Her verie filence, and per patience, 
Speake to the people, and they pittie her : 
Thou art a foole, (he robs thee of thy name, 
And thou wilt (how more bright, & feem more vertuous 
When (he is gone : then open not thy lips 85 

Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe, 
Which I haue paft vpon her, (he is bani(h'd. 

CeL Pronounce that fentence then on me my Leige, 
I cannot Hue out of her companie. 

Duk. You are a foole : you Neice prouide your felfe, 90 

If you out-ftay the time, vpon mine honor, 
And in the greatneflfe of my word you die. 

Exit Duke J &c. 

CeL O my poore Rofaliney whether wilt thou goef 
Wilt thou change Fathers ? I will g^ue thee mine : 95 

T charge thee be not thou more grieuM then I am. 

Rof. I haue more caufe. 

CeL Thou haft not Cofen, 98 

81. per\ F^. 94. whether^ where Pope + . 

88. Leige'\ Liege F,. 95. Fathers'] father Ff. 

91. <mt-Jlay\ out-ftany F^. 96. then] them F^. 

93. Scene X. Pope + . 98. Cofen\ dearest cousin Han. 

79. Mrs Jameson (p. 153) : Celia is more quiet and retired ; but she rather yields 
to Rosalind than is eclipsed by her. She is as full of sweetness, kindness, and intel- 
ligence, quite as susceptible, and almost as witty, though she makes less display of 
wit. She is described as less fair and less gifted ; yet the attempt to excite in bei 
mind a jealousy of her lovelier friend by placing them in comparison [as in lines 80- 
86] fails to awaken in the generous heart of Celia any other feeling than an increased 
tenderness and sympathy for her cousin. To Celia, Shakespeare has given some of 
the most striking and animated parts of the dialogue ; and in particular that exquisite 
description of the friendship between her and Rosalind [lines 75-79]. The feeling 
of interest and admiration thus excited for Celia at the first, follows her through the 
whole play. We listen to her as to one who has made herself worthy of our love ; 
and her silence expresses more than eloquence. 

84. seem] Warburton : Doubtless the poet wrote shine t i, e, her virtues would 
appear more splendid when the lustre of her cousin^s was away. Johnson : When 
the was seen alone she would be more noted. 

84. vertuous] Capell (57, b) : This means gifted, not with virtue^ but virtues^ 
virtuous and good qualities of all sorts. 

94. whether] Undoubtedly contracted, as in many other instances, into wh^er. 
See Walker ( Vers. 106), or Macb, I, iii. Hi; Ham, III, ii, 193; Lear, II, i, 53; 
Mer. of Ven, I, i, 183 ; V, i, 329. 

98. Thou hast not Cosen,] Steevens: Some word is wanting to the metre. 



56 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. iil 

Prethee be cheerefull ; know^ft thou not the Duke 

Hath baniftiM me his daughter? 1 00 

Rof. That he hath not. 

CeL No, hath not ? Rofaline lacks then the loue 
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one, 103 

100. Haih'\ Has Rowe ii+. 103. t?ue\ w^Thcob. Han. Warb. Cap. 

102. No^ hath notf'\ Ff, Rowe \, Not Dyce iii, Huds. 
hath notf Rowe ii+. thou] she Cap. conj. 

am] are Han. 

Perhi^ our author wrote Indeed, thou hast,' &c. [I beg leave to doubt that in a 
broken line a syllable or a foot is ever wanting, to complete the metre. — Ed.] 

102. No, hath not ?] In Notes &* Qu. (vol. vii, p. 520) Arrowsmith gave, for 
the first time, a correct explanation of such phrases as No did? No will? No had? 
&c. by citing < a string of examples ' showing that they were equivalent to Did you 
not? Will you not? Had you not? &c. Whereupon Singer (7?. p. 593) inferred 
that the present line was another illustration of this same idiom, losing sight of the 
fact that to be exactly parallel Celia should say No hath ? Halliwell, also, was 
misled, and although neither he nor Singer made any change in the text other than in 
erasing the conmia after ' No,' yet Halliwell suggested that it would be better under- 
stood if printed, no, * hath not^ which is true enough, but if Celia's question is a mere 
quotation of Rosalind's remark, where is the ' singular idiom ' which Halliwell says 
is to be noticed here? — Ed. 

103. teacheth thee] Theobald: 'Tis evident the Poet wrote * teacheth me ;^ for 
if Rosalind had learnt to think Celia one part of her Self, she could not lack that 
Love which Celia complains she does. [This emendation, such as it is, belongs to 
Theobald, although it is generally attributed to Warburton, even in the Cambridge 
Edition. Theobald proposed it in a letter to Warburton in 1729; see Nichols, Illust, 
ii, 330. Wright correctly gives it to Theobald, but while correcting one oversight 
commits another by giving to Theobald the change of ' am ' to are, which in reality 
belongs to Hanmer. Singer proposed it, perhaps believing it to be original, in Notes 
&* Qu. vol. vii, p. 593, but did not adopt it in his subsequent text. — Ed.] Capell : 
The inexpressible sweetness of the sentiment contain'd in this line, and that before 
it, is lost by the old reading * thee ' ; which were alone sufficient to justify the cor- 
rector, and those who have follow'd him in his change. Johnson : Either reading 
may stand. The sense of the established text is not remote or obscure. Where 
would be the absurdity of saying. You know not the law which teaches you to do 
right? Knight thinks there is reason in the change of * thee * to me; and White 
(ed. i), after quoting Johnson, adds : < still, it remains true that Celia would naturally 
reproach her cousin for the lack of that completeness of love which she herself pos- 
sessed.' MoBERLY : That is, < which ought to teach you as it has already taught me.' 
The futurity is sufficiently expressed by the context; as in <non dubito quin tibi 
Chremes det gnatam.' [There seems to be no necessity for change. Johnson's illus- 
tration is pat. But if any change at all is adopted, it should be as thorough as that 
proposed by Capell in the following note on <am.'] 

103. am] Capell: The freedom us'd with grammar in 'am' has (perhaps) a 
reason for 't ; the diction, it will be said, is more forcible in that than in are : But is 
either diction or pathos improv'd by the transition from Rosalind in the third person 



ACT I, sc. iii,] AS YOU LIKE IT 57 

Shall we be fundred ? (hall we part fweete girle ? 

No, let my Father feeke another heire : 105 

Therefore deuife with me how we may flie 

Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs, 

And doe not feeke to take your change vpon you, 

To beare your griefes your felfe, and leaue me out : 

For by this heauen, now at our forrowes pale ; 1 10 

Say what thou canft, He goe along with thee. 

Rof. Why, whether fliall we goe / 112 

107, 112. Whet?itr\ Whither Ff. Coll. ii. the charge Sing, Wh. i, Dyce 

108. your change'] your charge Ff, ii, Ktly, Rife. 

Rowe, Pope, Theob. Warb. Han. Cap. no. now,.. pale] In parenthesis, Ff. 

in one line to Rosalind in the second in this ? if they are not, * thou ' should give 
place to she^ as ' thee ' has to me. Keightley [Exp. 156) : Such was the structure 
of the time. < My thoughts and I am for this other element ' — ^Jonson, Cynthia^ s 
Revels^ I, i. It was the same in French: ' Ni la mort ni vous-m6me Ne lotfereM 
jamais prononcer que je I'aime * — Racine, Bajazet^ IV, i. Wright : No one would 
now think of writing * thou and I am,' but as it is an instance of a construction of 
frequent occurrence in Shakespeare's time, by which the verb is attracted to the near- 
est subject, it should not be altered. See Ben Jonson, The Fox, II, i, < Take it or 
leave it, howsoever, both it and I am at your service.' Whits (ed. ii) : A disagree- 
ment of words due to mere heedlessness. 

104. sundred] White (ed. i) : It is noteworthy that this is the form of the con- 
tracted participle, usually, if not always, found in books of Shakespeare's time ; as, 
for instance, in this play, * seques/'r^-i/' ; * engem/'r^^* ; * minis/ 'r^^' ; * remem^'r^^' ; 
* wintered*. It seems more than probable that this uniformity is not accidental ; and 
it is quite possible that it represents the colloquial form of the contraction. 

108. change] Malone : That is, to take your < change ' or reverse of fortune upon 
yourself, without any aid or participation. Steevens : I have inserted this note, but 
without implicit confidence in the reading it explains. Walker (Crit. iii, 61) : 1 
have no doubt that Shakespeare wrote charge, and so the F,. The erratum change 
for charge occurs firequently in the Folio. Vice versd, Tarn, of the Shr. Ill, i, 81, 
the Folio reads, * I am not so nice To charge true rules for old \odd] inventions.' 
Singer : Whoever glances at the passage must see that the printer has here again 
mistaken y* charge of the MS for y^ change. [There is but little doubt in my mind 
that charge is the true reading. To share her griefs with Celia would be no < change ' 
to Rosalind, but to bear them all alone and leave Celia out could not but be a heavy 
charge or burden, which Celia says she must not think of. To bear the < reverse of 
fortune ' bravely is not what Celia is urging, but that they may still go coupled and 
inseparable. — £d.] 

no. pale] Caldecott: This passage may be interpreted either <by this heaven, 
or the light of heaven, with its lustre faded in sympathy with our feelings ;' or, < for, 
by this heaven, now we have reached, now we are at the utmost verge ox point, in this 
extremity or crisis of our fate,' &c. (for Such it was) as this word is used in Wint, 
Taie, IV, ii : < For the red blood reigns in the winter's /o/f.' [This latter interpreta- 
tion is extremely doubtful. — ^Ed.] 



58 AS YOU LIKE IT [act i, sc. iii. 

Cel. To feeke my Vncle in the Forreft of Arden. 113 

Ro/. AlsLS, what danger will it be to vs, 
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth fo farre ? 115 

Beautie prouoketh theeues fooner then gold. 

Ce/. He put my felfe in poore and meane attire, 
And with a kinde of vmber fmirch my face, 
The like doe you, fo (hall we paflfe along, 119 

115. forth fofarre\ for farre F,. Ii8. fmirch] f milch F,. fmutch F^F^ 

Rowe, Pope, Han. 

113. in the Forrest of Arden] Steevens: These words are an evident interpo- 
Uition, without use, and injurious to the measure : < Why, whither should we go ? — To 
seek my uncle/ being a complete verse. Besides, we have been already informed by 
Charles the Wrestler that the banished Duke's residence was in the forest of Arden. 
Knight : All the ordinary reprints of the text are here mutilated by one of Steevens's 
hateful corrections, [Knight here quotes Steevens's note, and proceeds:] And so 
the two poor ladies are to go forth to seek the banished Duke through the wide world, 
and to meet with him at last by chance, because Steevens holds that this indication 
of their knowledge of the place of his retreat is * injurious to the measure.* Walker 
( Vers, 69) scans the line as it stands in the Folio by reading < forest ' as a monosyllable* 

115. farre] Walker {Crit, i, 189, Article xxx — Far and near used as com- 
paratives) : / Hen, IV: III, i, 256 : < And givest such sarcenet surety for thy 
oaths, As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury.' I would read, 'As if thou 
ne'er walk'dst fur* than Finsbory.* Compare IVint, Tale, IV, iv, 440 : « We'll bar 
thee from succession ; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin. Far than Deuca- 
lion off.* Quasi farrer, furrer f In Chaucer we have ferre, further ; House of Fame, 
Bk. ii, line 92, * But er I here the much ferre, I wol the tel what I am.' (Note, As 
You Like It : < Maids as we are, to travel forth so far I' Does iK>t Shakespeare's 
instinctive love of euphony require that we should here pronounce, perhaps write, 
fur t irdpjiKj.) [Walker's ear was so delicately attuned to the harmony of verse that 
one should be exceedingly cautious in gainsaying him. Yet I must confess that this 
last query seems to me the weakest in an article which is otherwise admirable through* 
out, and one to which it is a pleasure to record obligations. We must remember that 
Walker did not live to see his notes in type ; indeed, did not even live to prepare 
them for the press. They are merely the jottings of a scholar, almost his private 
Oifversaria, which accounts for their abruptness and their Greek and Latin short-cuts, 
which some critics, oblivious of this fact, have severely criticised as pedantic. Walker's 
admirable editor, Lettsom, whose influence over Dyce, by the way, was marked, was 
wise in preserving every scrap, however disjointed, of Walker's memoranda, albeit 
Walker himself might have erased many a one when the heat was cooled with which 
they were first struck out But whether wise or otherwise, no suggestion from a 
scholar like Walker should pass unregarded by simple folk like us. — ^Ed.] 

118. vmber] Malone: A dusky, yellow-coloured earth, brought from Umbria in 
Italy. 

iiS. smirch] See Text. Notes for other forms of this word, all of which, together 
with smudge, Wright says, are originally connected with smear. Compare < the chaste 
unsmirched brows of my true mother,' Ham, IV, v, 115. 



ACT I, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 59 

And neiier ftir aflailants. 120 

Rof. Were it not better, 
Becaufe that I am more then common tall, 
That I did fuite me all points like a man, 
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh, 

A bore-fpeare in my hand, and in my heart 125 

Lye there what hidden womans feare there will, 
Weele haue a fwafhing and a marfhall outfide. 
As manie other mannifh cowards haue. 
That doe outface it with their femblances. 

CeL What fliall I call thee when thou art a man ? 130 

121. Were t^] Wert^t Pope + . 124. curtelax] curtelass Cap. 
123. me] Om. F^. 127. IVeele] I'll Han. Johns. 

122. Because that] See I, iii, 44. 

123. suite] Dyce: That is, clothe, dress; as in Lear, IV, vii, 6, <Be better 
suited,' f. e, <put on better clothes.' 

123. all points] See line 74 supra. 

124. curtelax] Dyce: A cutlass. Wright: The termination is an instance of a 
frequent corruption by which a word is altered so as to correspond to a supposed ety- 
molog}'. Other forms of the word, due to the same tendency, are < cutlace ' and < cut- 
lash.' A curtleaxe was not an axe at all, but a short sword. The word is formed 
from a diminutive of the Latin culullm. Florio (//. Dict^ has ' Q>ltellaccio, a cutle- 
axe, a hanger.' Cotgrave gives * Coutelas : m. A Cut elas, Courtelas, or short sword, 
for a man at annes.' Compare Fairfax, Tasso, ix, 82 : ' His curtlax by his thigh, 
short, hooked, fine.' And Hen. V: IV, ii, 21 : < Scarce blood enough in all their 
sickly veins To give each naked curtle-axe a stain.' Again, Lodge in his novel, < To 
the Gentlemen Readers,' says, * Heere you may perhaps finde some leaves of Venus 
mirtle, but hewen down by a souldier with his curtlaxe.' Spenser, supposing the 
weapon to be a short axe, wrote (Faery Queene^ IV, ii, 42) : < But speare and curtaxe 
both vsd Priamond in field.' In DuBartas, Historie of Judith (trans. Hudson), book 
Ii, p. 16 (ed. 161 1 ), the word appears in the form ' curtlasse ' : 'And with a trembling 
hand the curtlasse drewe.' 

125. bore-speare] Halliwell gives a wood-cut both of a curtleaxe and of a boar- 
tpear. The latter, says Fairiiolt, has a blade very broad and strong, with a 
aoss-bar inserted immediately below it, to prevent its passing directly through the 
animal. ' Unlike the ordinary spear, it appears to have been seldom thrown, but the 
rush made by the animal on the hunter was met by a direct opposition of the weapon 
on his part.' 

127. swashing] Steevens: That is, an appearance of noisy, bullying valour. 
[See Rom. ^ Jul. I, i, 55, with its superfluity of notes in this edition. The word is 
still current here in America. The line is thus scanned by Abbott, $ 455, with an 
accent on out in the last word : < We'll hive | a swish | ing ind | a mir | tial oiit- 
side. — ^Ed.] 

129. it] For other instances of this indefinite use of ' it,' which is as universal now 
SB ever, see Abbott, % 226. 



6o AS YOCr LIKE IT [act i, sc. iii. 

Rof. He haue no worfe a name then loues owne Page, 
And therefore looke you call me Ganitned. 
But what will you by callM? 

Cel, Something that hath a reference to my flate : 
No longer Celia, but Aliena. 135 

Rof. But Cofen, what if we aflaid to fteale 
The clownifli Foole out of your Fathers Court : 
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile ? 

CeL Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, 
Leaue me alone to woe him ; Let's away 140 

133. by] Fj. 140. woe] wooe Ft woo Rowe. 

134. kath] bath F^. 

131. Page] Fletcher (p. 202) : Mrs Jameson, amongst others, misled probably 
by one of those hasty verbal mistakes which have been so often made by the exposi- 
tors of Shakespeare, seems to have been betrayed by Rosalind's allusion immediately 
after to *Jov^s own page,' into talking of * her pagis vest,' * her page's costmne,' &c. 
J^oyif pages of the banished Duke do appear in the course of the forest scenes, two 
of whom sing, at Touchstone's request, the lively song introduced in the Fifth Act ; 
but the accoutrements of a page would ill have supplied that * martial ' exterior for 
the sake of whose protection alone Rosalind has any inclination to put herself in 
masquerade. She is to wear manly, not boyish, habiliments. The curtleaxe and 
boar-spear are not the page's nor the shepherd's array, but the forester's, such as was 
worn by her fieUher and his exiled followers. [But see Lodge's Novel, where Rosa- 
lynde says, * I would very well become the person and apparel of a page,' &c., and 
again, * if any knave offer wrong, your page will shew him the poynt of his weapon.' 
See further, Fletcher's note, III, v, 114. — ^Ed.] 

132. Ganimed] Neil : This name, which is that used by Lodge, would not be 
the less acceptable to Shakespeare that it had acquired a firesh poetic interest in The 
Affectionate Shepherd, containing the Complaint of Daphnis for the love of Gany- 
mede, by Richard Bamefield, 1594. 

X35. Aliena] Wright: With the accent on the second syllable. Rolfe: But 
surely ' Celia ' is a trisyllable, as in line 70 above, and 'Aliena ' accented on the 
penult, as it ought to be. [This is the only line in the play where the rhythm can be 
oar guide. Our choice, therefore, lies, I think, only between < No Idng | er C^ | ya, 
bdt I All I ena,' and < No long | er Ce | liil, | but Al | i^na.' With Rolfe, I much pre- 
fer the latter, because, as he says, Celia is elsewhere unquestionably a trisyllable, 
namely, in 'Ay, Ce | lid, | we st&y'd | her f6r | your s^e.' Moreover, Shakespeare's 
' small Latin ' was quite large enough for him to remember the quantity of dlUma. 
—Ed.] 

140. Hudson (p. 16) : It is curious to observe how the Poet takes care to let us 
know from, the first that beneath the affectations of Touchstone's calling some precious 
sentiments have been kept alive ; that far within the Fool there is laid up a secret reserve 
of the man, ready to leap forth and combine with better influences as soon as the 
incrustations of art are thawed and broken up. This is partly done [here in this 
present passage], where we learn that some remnants, at least, of a manly heart in 



ACTii,sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 6i 

And get our lewels and our wealth together, 141 

Deuife the fitteft time, and fafeft way 

To hide vs from purfuite that will be made 

After my flight : now goe in we content 

To libertie,and not to banifliment. Exeunt 145 



A6lus Secundus. Sco^na Prima. 

Enter Duke Senior : Amy ens, and two or three Lords 

like Forrejiers. 

Duk. Sen.tiov/ my Coe-mates,and brothers in exile : 
Hath not old cuftome made this life more fweete 
Then that of painted pompe ? Are not thefe woods 5 

More free from perill then the enuious Court ? 
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam , 7 

144. in we] Cald. Knt, Neil, we in 3. brothers] brother Ff. 

Ff ct cet y. not] but Thcob. + , Cap. Steev. MaL 

content] cantent F^. Coll. u, iii, Sing. Wh. Dyce, Cam. Clke^ 

Actus] Actu F,. Wr. Mob. 
I. Lords] Lorde F^. 

him have asserted their force in the shape of unselfish regards, strong as life, for what 
ever is purest and loveliest in the characters about him. He would rather starve or 
freeze, with Celia near him, than feed high and lie warm where his eye cannot find 
her. If, with this fact in view, our honest esteem does not go out towards him, then 
we, I think, are fools in a worse sense than he is. [And the reflection of this devo- 
tion illuminates Celia, too, who kindled it. — Ed.] 

144. in we] Malone : I am not sure that the transposition tve in is necessary. 
Our author might have used < content' as an adjective. Neil follows the Folio, 
which means, he says. Now let us go in, contentedly. * Perhaps,' he adds, ' the 
reading, " Now go in ; we consent," would give the author's meaning.' 

I. Duke Senior] In a note on I, ii, 78, Capell says that * throughout all this play 
Shakespeare calls his two Dukes, J?uhe Senior and Duke Junior^ In a MS note of 
Malone's, given by Halliwell, Malone says : < This is not so. The younger brother is 
never once called Duke Junior ^ throughout the play, in any one entry. He is always 
called simply Duke, The other is called Duke Senior.' 

3. exile] Walker ( Vers. 291) gives a list of many words, chiefly disyllabic, which 
have < an accent— though, of course, an unequal one— on both syllables, the principal 
one being shifted ad libitum frx>m the one syllable to the other.' Thus, in Rom. 6^ 
Jul. Ill, iii, 13 : ' For exile hath more terror in his look,' yet within eight lines the 
accent is shifted to the second syllable (as it is here in As You Like It):* And world's 
exile is death ; then banished.' See also Abbott, § 490. 

7. Theobald: What was the penalty of Adam, hinted at by our Poet? The 
being sensible of the difference of the seasons. The Duke says, the cold and effects 



62 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. i. 

[Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam] 
of the winter feelingly persuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the 
penalty? Doubtless the text must be restored as I have corrected it [see Text. 
Notes], and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes how often *■ not ' and but^ by mis- 
take, have changed place in our author's former editions. Malone : As *■ not ' has 
here taken the place of buty so, in Cor. II, iii, 72, < but ' is printed instead of not : 
Cor, * Ay, but mine own desire. First Cit, How ! not your own desire.' [This is 
perhaps scarcely apposite. According to the excellent emendation of the Cam. Edd. 
not had simply fallen out of the line, and had not been changed into ' but ' : 'Ay, but 
not mine own desire.' — Ed.] Boswell : Surely the old reading is right. Here we 
feel notf do mft suffer, from the penalty of Adam, the season's difference ; for when 
the winter's wind blows upon my body, I smile, and say — Whiter (p. 13) : Theo- 
bald supposes that the penalty of Adam here expressed is < the being sensible of the 
difference of the seasons.' I do not think that this is the allusion intended. I read 
the whole passage thus : 

' Here feel we not the penalty of Adam : 
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind— 
(Which when it bites and blows upon my body 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 
This is no flattery ;) — these are counsellors, 
That feelingly persuade me what I am.' 

The penalty of Adam, here alluded to, may be gathered from the following passages 
in Scripture : < Cursed is the ground for thy sake ; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all 
the days of thy life,' Gen, iii, 17 ; 'In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,' ver. 
19 ; < Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the 
ground from whence he was taken,' ver. 23. We here plainly see that the only curse 
or penalty imposed on Adam which can have any reference to the condition of a 
country life is the toil of cidtivating the ground, and acquiring by that labour the 
means of sustenance. The Duke therefore justly consoles himself and his compan- 
ions with the reflection that their banishment into those woods from the paradise of a 
court (if we may be permitted to continue the allusion) was not attended with the 
penalty pronounced on Adam, — a life of pain and of labour; but that, on the con- 
trary, it ought to be considered as a philosophical retirement of ease and independence. 
With respect to the minute inconvenience which they might suffer from the difference 
of the seasons— the biting frost and the winter's wind — these (he observes) should not 
be regarded in any other view than as sharp but salutary counsellors, which made 
themy^^/ only for the promotion of their good and the improvement of their virtue. 
Caldecott : Wherever the course of thought admits it, Shakespeare is accustomed 
to continue the form of speaking which he first falls upon ; and the sense of this 
passage, in which he repeats the word ' not,' appears to be, < The penalty here, prop- 
erly speaking, is not, or scarce is, physically felt, because the suffering it occasions, 
sharp as it otherwise might be called, turns so much to account in a moral sense.' 
The construction of ' which, when it blows,' is < at which, or which blowing.' And 
or for, instead of which, would have given a plain and clear sense ; but the same 
forms and cold terms of reasoning would have clogged the spirited and warm flow 
of the sentiment ; and the recurrence of and at the beginning of the line would have 



ACT II. sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 63 

[Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam] 
offended the ear. Still, the word ' feelingly,' used at the end of this passage in an 
affirmative sense, after < feel ' had been brought forward, coupled with a negative, cer- 
tainly makes a confusion, if it be not said to favour Theobald's substitution. Har- 
ness : Theobald's alteration is not only unnecessary, but palpably wrong. The Duke's 
sentiment is as follows : Here we do not feel the penalty of Adam, the difference of 
the seasons, because the slight physical suffering that it occasions only raises a smile, 
and suggests a moral reflection. Knight follows Whiter (except that afler < Adam ' 
he puts a full stop instead of a colon), and urges in support that : Milton represents 
the repentant Adam as thus interpreting the penalty: <On me the curse aslope 
Glanced on the ground ; with labour I must earn My bread; what harm ? Idleness 
had been worse.' The beautiful passage in Cowper's Task, describing the Thresher, 
will also occur to the reader : * See him sweating o'er his bread Before he eats it 
'Tis the primal curse. But soften'd into mercy ; made the pledge Of cheerful days, 
and nights without a groan.' < The seasons' difference,' it must be remembered, was 
ordained before the fall, and was in no respect a penalty. We may therefore reject 
the received interpretation. But how could the Duke say, receiving the passage in 
the sense we have suggested, * Here feel we mft the penalty of Adam ' ? In the First 
Act, Charles the Wrestler, describing the Duke and his co-mates, says, they * fleet the 
time carelessly as they did in the golden worW One of the characteristics of the 
golden world is thus described by Daniel : < Oh ! happy golden age ! Not for that 
rivers ran With streams of milk and honey dropp'd from trees ; Not that the earth 
did gage Unto the husbandman Her voluntary fruits, free without fees.' The song 
of Amiens, in the Fifth Scene of this Act, conveys, we think, the same allusion : 
' Who doth ambition shun. And loves to live i' the sun. Seeking the food he eats. And 
pleas' d with what he gets,* The exiled courtiers led a life without toil— a life in 
which they were contented with a little— cmd they were thus exempt from the * pen- 
alty of Adam.' We close, therefore, the sentence at <Adam.' * The seasons' differ- 
ence ' is now the antecedent of ' these are counsellors ' ; the freedom of construction 
common to Shakespeare and the poets of his time fully warranting this acceptation of 
the reading. In this way, the Duke says, ' The differences of the seasons are coun- 
sellors that teach me what I am ; — as, for example, the winter's wind — ^which, when 
it blows upon my body, I smile, and say, This is no flattery.' We may add that, imme- 
diately following the lines we have quoted from the Paradise Lost, Adam alludes to 
' the seasons' difference,' but in no respect as part of the curse : < With labour I must 
earn My bread ; what harm ? Idleness had been worse. My labour will sustain me ; 
and lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought provided, and 
his hands Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while He judg'd. How much more, if we 
pray Him, will his ear Be open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us further by 
what means to shun Th' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow.' [Although 
Collier in both of his editions interpreted the < penalty of Adam ' as the < seasons' 
difference,' yet at one time he followed the Folio, and at another Theobald ; in the 
latter case he did so, despite the fact that his (MS) retained the old reading, merely 
changing * as the Icie phang * {o*or the,' &c.] Hunter (i, 346) : Read either ' not ' 
or but, and still the passage is perplexed. Taking the text as we have it, I venture 
to suggest that the first part of this passage should be read as an interrogative appeal 
to the companions of his banishment : < Here feel we not '— < Do any of you say that 
we do not feel the severity of the wintry blast ?' But * when it bites and blows upon 
my body I, for my part, smile, and say This is no flattery,' &c. I do not say that this 



AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. i. 



[Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam] 
takes up every word, but I think it approaches nearer to the poet's intention than any- 
thing that has been suggested. That the < penahy of Adam ' is not the severities of 
winter, but the obligation to labour, or the being sensible to the difference between 
heat and cold, leaves the passage as perplexed as ever. In the idea of Paradise before 
the Fall has always been included that there was perpetual summer or at least 
perpetual genial seasons — no winter's cold. Anon. [ap. Halliwell] : It appears 
to me impossible to let < not ' stand in the passage at all without leading to utter 
inconsequence; whereas, if we substitute the word yet^ sense and harmony are 
restored to the whole of the Duke's speech at once, without the necessity of our 
resorting to ingenious or elaborate speculation and research. The proposed reading 
will nullify the argument founded on the views of the < seasons' difference ' in the 
time of our first father; the correctness of which, by the way, appears to me to be 
rather invalidated than otherwise by anjrthing I can find in the opening chapters of 
Genesis. White (ed. i) : < Not ' is clearly a corruption, because there was no pen- 
alty of Adam from which the speaker and his companions were exempt Whiter 
suggested that the penalty of Adam was that he should get his bread by the sweat 
of his brow. So did the banished Duke ; Adam, after his curse, might as well have 
lived by hunting as the Duke. Plainly, the penalty of Adam is the seasons' difference 
—eternal Spring being inseparably connected with the idea of Eden — and the com- 
mon misprint of ' not ' for but took place. For what is the culminating thought of 
the whole passage ? — * these are the counsellors That feelingly persuade me what lam,* 
The Duke finds the icy fang and the churlish chiding of the Winter's wind more 
truthful counsellors than those which buzzed about his painted pomp. They make 
him feel that he is a man. But how would they do this if he were exempt fh)m any 
part of that heritage of all mankind — the penalty of Adam ? It is to be observed, 
however, that the passage, although its meaning is clear, is written in a very free style, 
and will defy parsing criticisuL Staunton : Neither < not ' nor but is satisfactory, 
nor do we think that < not ' is the only corruption in the speech ; the word < as ' is 
equally open to suspicion. The passage, it is presumable, may have run thus in the 
original manuscript : ' Here feel we yet the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference : 
At the icy fang,' &c. The Duke is contrasting the dangers and sophistications of a 
court life with the safety and primitive simplicity of their sylvan state ; and glories in 
the privilege of undergoing Adam's penalty, — the seasons' difference. Cowden- 
Clarke : The speech seems to us to lose consecution if < not ' be retained ; whereas, 
*but the penalty of Adam* (taking 'penalty' to mean the 'seasons' difference'), 
accords with that which follows, and also with other passages in the play, where the 
sharp yet salutary effects of open-air life are adverted to. Keightley {J^xp, 157) : 
It does not appear that any writer anterior to Milton made the Ovidian change of 
season a part of Adam's penalty. The text may therefore be right, and a line, some- 
thing like this, have been lost, * Here is no toil ; we have only to endure.' Ingleby 
[Sh, the Matif &c. i, 139) cites a letter to him from C. J. Munro, in which the latter 
suggests the making of the sentence interrogative, wherein he is anticipated by Hun- 
ter. Ingleby himself says that * however we may regulate and interpret the passage, 
there is certainly a hitch, but it is very questionable whether the hitch be sufficiently 
great to justify verbal emendation.' * Probably sufficient justification might be found 
for new in the place of * not ' ; now referring to the present time of winter, after the 
** penaltie " would be no longer felt ?' Wright [adopting Theobald's bu/] : The Duke 
contrasts the happiness and security of their forest life with the perils of the envious 



ACT n, sc, I] AS YOU LIKE IT 65 

The feafons difference, as the Icie phange 8 

And churlifli chiding of the winters winde, 

Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body 10 

Euen till I (hrinke with cold, I fmile, and fay 

This is no flattery : thefe are counfellors 

That feelingly perfwade me what I am : 

Sweet are the vfes of aduerfitie 14 

10. bUes\ baits F^F^. 

court. Their only suffering was that which they shared with all the descendants of 
Adam, the seasons' difference, for in the golden age of Paradise there was, as Bacon 
phrases it, < a spring all the year long.' .... If the blank left by Boswell were filled 
up, it would just contradict what he had said before — ^ These are counsellors That 
feelingly persuade me what I am.' The Duke's senses therefore did make him con 
scious that he was a man, though what he felt was only < the seasons' difference.' Mil 
ton has the same idea of change of seasons after the Fall. See Par, Lost, x, 678, 9 : 
* Else had the spring Perpetual smiled on earth with vemant flowers.' [Whatever be 
the < penalty of Adam,' be it < labour ' or < the seasons' difference,' all critics seem to 
agree that the drift of the speech is to show that this present life takes from that penalty 
its bitterness. The penalty is here, but it is not really felt ; we can even smile at it 
In the same way, adversity is grievous, but here we can find that its uses are even 
sweet We know that < in the state of innocency Adam fell,' and was punished ; if 
that punishment be removed, there is a return to the state of innocency ; and it is that 
state of innocency which reigns here in Arden ; and when the icy fang of the winter's 
wind bites till we shrink with cold, we know that there is no flattery here ; our feelings, 
our outward senses, reveal the truth to us. < Feelingly ' is not used in this connection 
in the same sense as < Here feele we ' ; the former goes no deeper than the skin, the 
latter touches the heart Thus interpreting the passage, as, I suppose, every one else 
interprets it, I think we can afford to disregard any specific definition, and hold, as 
< the penaltie of Adam,' everything which tends to make this life unlike what it really 
is, be it the seasons' difference, labour, or the peril of the envious coiut. 

See Capell's remark (line 20, post) on the change in the Duke's feelings when the 
chance came to him in the last Act. — Ed.] 

8. as] Here used in the sense of lo wil, namely. See < How all the other passions 
fleet to air. As doubtful thoughts,' &c., Afer. of Ven. Ill, ii, 115 ; also Walker {Crit, 
i, 127), or Abbott, § 113. See also post, II, vii, 151, where Walker with probability 
suggested that 'At ' should be As. Lettsom (ap. Dyce, ed. iii) refers to IV, iii, 149 
as an example of the plural, followed by a single instance : < Teares our recoutttments 
had most kindly bath'd, As how I came into that desert place;' but Capell and 
Malone conjectured that a line or more had been there lost, in which other circum- 
stances were recounted. — See notes ad loc. — Ed. 

10. Which] For other instances of ' which ' used adverbially for as to which, see 
Abbott, § 272, or Lear, V, iii, 149. 

10-12. Which . . . flattery] As a matter of punctuation note that Whiter, fol- 
lowed by White (ed. i), enclosed these lines in a parenthesis. 

14. the vses] Hartley Coleridge (ii, 142) : There is a beautiful propriety in 
the word ' uses ' here, which I do not remember to have seen remarked. It is the 
5 



66 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc- L 

Which like the toad, ougly and venemous, 15 

Weares yet a precious lewell in his head : 

use, not the mere effect of adversity, wherein resides the sweet Whether adversity 
shall prove a stumbling-block, a discipline, or a blessing, depends altogether on the 
use made of it There is no natural necessary operation of adversity to strengthen, 
to purify, or to humanise. Men may be made better by afiliction, but they cannot be 
made good. From an evil heart, the harder it is wrung, the blacker the drops that 
issue. If perfumes are the sweeter for crushing, so are stenches more pestiferous. 
Even the average quality of mankind are much oftener the worse than the Jt>etter for 
continued suffering. All, indeed, might be better for chastening ; but that any indi- 
vidual will be better no one has a right to presume, for we know not what use he will 
make of the dispensation. 

14. ' It is good for me that I have been afHicted.' — Psalms^ cxix, 71. 

15. venemous] That the toad was venomous has been a popular belief from the 
days of Pliny at least In Holland's translation (Bk. 25, p. 231, a) we read : ' Frogs 
(such especially as keep in bushes and hedges, and be called in Latine Rubet^e, 1. 
toads) are not without their venom : I my self haue seen these vaunting Montebanks 
calling themselues Fisylli .... in a brauery .... to eat those toads baked red hot 
between 2 platters ; but what became of them ? they caught their bane by it, and died 
more suddenly than if they had bin stung by the Aspis.' 

16. lewell] Steevens : In a book called A Green Forest or a Natural ffistory^ 
&c., by John Maplett, X567, is the following account of this imaginary gem : < In this 
stone i^ apparently seene verie often the verie forme of a tode, with despotted and 
coloured feete, but those uglye and defusedly. It is available against envenoming.' 
Pliny, in the 32d book of his Natural Hist. [p. 434, 1. trans. Holland], ascribes many 
powerful qualities to a bone found in the right side of a toad^ but no mention of any 
gem in its head. This deficiency is however abimdantly supplied by Edward Fenton, 
in his Secrete Wonders of Nature ^ 1 569, who says : ' That there is founde in the heades 
of old and great toades, a stone which they call Borax or Stelon : it is most commonly 
fotmd in the head of a hee toad^ of power to repulse poysons, and that it is a most 
sovereign medicine for the stone.' Thomas Lupton, in his First Booke of Notable 
ThingSy bears repeated testimony to the virtues of the * Tode-stone, called Crapaudina* 
In his Seventh Book he instructs us how to procure it ; and afterwards tells us : < You 
shall knowe whether the Tode -stone be the ryght and perfect stone or not. Holde 
the stone before a Tode, so that he may see it ; and if it be a ryght and true stone, 
the Tode will leape towarde it, and make as though he would snatch it. He envieth 
so much that man should have that stone.' [It would be easy to fill page after page 
with allusions to this loadstone and with descriptions of it. Steevens refers to a 
passage in Beau, and Fl/s Monsieur Thomas, III, i, p. 356, ed. Dyce, and he might 
have added another in The Woman* s Prize , V, i, p. 199. Nares gives a reference to 
Jonson's Volponty II, iii, p. 223, ed. Gifford, and another to Lyly's Euphues, p. 53, 
ed. Arber : * The foule Toade hath a faire stone in his head ; the fine golde is found 
in filthy earth ; the sweet kemell lyeth in the hard shell ; vertue is harboured in the 
heart of him that most men esteeme mishapen.' This sentence, by the way, was 
quoted by Francis Meres, in his Wits Commonwealth, Part 2, p. 161, but without 
naming the author— a duty which he performed in many instances, but which the pur- 
pose of his book did not render obligatory in all ; the fact would not be worth refer- 
ring to here, were it not that Halliwell failed to notice, when he cited both Meres 



ACT II. sc L] AS YOU LIKE IT &7 

And this our life exempt from publike haunt, 17 

Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes, 
Sermons in ftones,and good in euery thing. 
Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace 20 

20. /...i/] Given to Duke, Wh. Dyce, Cam. Ktly, Huds. Rife. 

and Lylj, that the two were in reality only one, and other editors, who have fol- 
lowed Halliwell without verifying, have fallen into the same error. As for descrip- 
tions of it, which ]>roperly belong to the archseolc^ of gems, and in no wise illustrate 
Shakespeare's words here, where the simple existence of the jewel is alluded to, I 
need merely refer the student to Douce, i, 294, or to the four folio pages of notes in 
Halliweirs edition, or to King's Natural Hist, of Gems, cited by Wright, where the 
origin of the belief in the existence of such a stone is ascribed to Pliny's simple 
description of a stone as < of the colour of a frog.' Douce suggests that it is not 
certain in this present passage that there is an allusion to a stone, * for Gesner informs 
us that in his time, and in England more particularly, the common people made 
superstitious uses of a real jewel that always could be found in a toad's head, viz. : its 
forehead bone* Lastly, Caldecott says : * It is, perhaps, rather a figure of speech, 
than a fact in natural history ; and it is its eye, proverbially fine, that is the ■ precious 
jewel in his head.' There can be no doubt, however, that a belief in toadstoncs and 
their efficacy existed, and it seems equally sure that Shakespeare here alludes to that 
belief, which, like everything that he touched, he * gilds with heavenly alchemy.' — Ed.] 

17. haunt] Allen (MS) : A verbal noun, equivalent to haunting; exempt from 
the haunting of the public. 

18. Steevens : So in Sidney's Arcadia, bk. 1 [p. 82, ed. 1598] : * Thus both trees 
and each thing else, be the bookes of a fancy.' [If this quotation from Sidney 
had not been repeated by several editors, it would not be repeated here. There 
is in it nothing particularly parallel to this speech of the Duke's. ' When,' says 

Dorus, < I meete these trees in the earth's faire liuery clothdd. Ease do I feel 

For that I finde in them parte of my state represented,' and, thereupon, with that 
prolixity which at times outwearies the most enthusiastic lover of Elizabethan pastoral 
poetry, he enumerates almost every tree known to the temperate, or even tropical, zone, 
in each of which he discovers what may symbolise his passion. Shakespeare's Duke 
accepts the lessons which the trees teach him ; Sidney's Dorus sets the lessons that are 
to be taught to the trees. It is perhaps worth while to mention, and merely to men- 
tion with the lightest touch, that emendation which suggests an exchange of places 
between 'bookes' and 'stones,' an emendation which, gray though it be with dry 
antiquity and palpable to the dullest sense, is always propounded anew as the highest 
stretch of wit, and accompanied with the demand that it be greeted with acclamation. 
—Ed.] 

20. Amien] Roffe (A Musical Triad from Shakespeare, &c. 1 872, p. 21) . 
Amiens is certainly to be considered as first and chief of the Musical characters in 
Shakespeare, and it must assuredly be admitted, that if we require an idea in every 
way pleasing and harmonious of a musical man, (as an accomplished amateur), that 
idea has been wrought out for us in Amiens, who, indeed, shows as favorably even in 
the lew words which he is called upon to speak as when he sings his charming songs. 
It is Amiens who makes reply to the Duke, and that reply is beautiful, worthy of an 
amiable man of sense, and, indeed of a true gentleman Amiens is willing, both 



68 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. i. 

[Amien.] 
for himself and for all his friends, to make the best of their lot, nay, even fully to 
accept it, and how felicitously is the idea expressed, oi * translating * the stubbornness 
of fortune into a quieter and a sweeter style. In that translation lies the one thing, 
which, if we c&uld only do, might, at the very least, make us all, if not perfectly 
happy ^ much Uss unhappy than we are. Such a man as Amiens is one who spreads 
around him an atmosphere of quiet and content, and we cannot but feel that he is 
beautifully placed in such a Pastoral as Shakespeare has here given us. The very 
earliest words then, spoken by Amiens, at once seem to give us the true intimation of 
his character and suggest to our minds the most pleasing thoughts concerning him. 
An evidently congenial spirit is the First Lord, and we find them taking their walk 

t(^ether in the Forest In Music, we shall find that Amiens is accomplished in 

a degree and manner befitting his mental state ; of his friend, the First Lord, we 
have no evidence that he is accomplished in Music, but it is clear that he is to be 
thought of as a most true and feeling observer^ with all the power of painting his 
observations in words. In that power he may be even conceived of as superior to 
Amiens, and so discriminated from him ; for which reason doubtless it is, that to this 
First Lord, Shakespeare assigns those interesting descriptions of what Amiens and 
his friend beheld together, such as that of the 'poor, sequestered stag.' .... At the 
banquet [II, vii] Amiens only sings, and the little address of the Duke to him still 
paints Amiens to us as the man who both can^ and will^ lay himself out to promote 

the pleasure of others After the banquet Amiens is only seen with the Duke, 

and that in the last Act, and no more is set down for him either to sing or to speak. 
.... Possibly, Shakespeare might have deemed that dramatic considerations as to 
Amiens himself would show, that after the memorable banquet-scene, and the beau- 
tiful ' Blow, blow, thou Winter Wind,' it was not so well to let him appear again, 
musically ^ in the comparatively inferior position of one who is simply required to lead 
off the jovial Hunting Song and Chorus. 

20. I ... it] Upton (p. 260) : The Duke is speaking of the happiness of his 
retirement How much more in character is it for the Duke to say, < I would not 
change it,' than for Amiens ! Capell (p. 58, a) : But the reverse of this [Upton's 
remark] is true : Amiens, as a courtier, might make the declaration, being only a 
mode of assenting to the truth of what his master had spoken ; but the Duke could 
not, without impeachment of dignity, of being wanting to himself and his subjects ; 
accordingly, when occasion of * change * presents itself at the end of the play, we see 
it embrac'd with great readiness : Add to this, that the following reflection of Amiens, 
* Happy is your grace,' &c. would come in too abruptly, were the other words taken 
away. White (ed. i) : They are not only * more in character for the Duke,' but the 
necessary complement of his thought. Dyce : It seems strange that no one before 
Upton should have seen that these words must belong to the Duke, and still stranger 
that, after the error was once pointed out, any editor should persist in retaining it. 
Walker (Crit. ii, 187) made, independently, the same suggestion as Upton, and 
adds ; < Let any one read the passage as thus distributed, and he will perceive the 
propriety of the change.* [The phrase may be proper enough for the Duke, but is it 
improper for Amiens ? Is there any reason why one of the circle of courtiers should 
not at once announce his sympathy with the Duke ? The Duke has asked a question. 
Is no one to answer ? Surely some response is needed of a more cordial and more 
personal character than a mere non-committal and courtier-like exclamation, ' Happy 
is your grace,' &c. Besides, some weight attaches to Capell's remark that the Duke 



ACT II, sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 69 

That can tranflate the ftubbomneffe of fortune 21 

Into fo quiet and fo fweet a ftile. 

Du. Sen. Come, (hall we goe and kill vs venifon / 
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles 
Being natiue Burgers of this defert City, 25 

Should intheir owne confines with forked heads 

25. Burgers] Burghes F^, 

shows himself ready enough to ' change' his life as soon as the chance is offered to him 
at the close of the play, and Shakespeare, who provides for everything, would not thus 
have precluded the Duke from resuming his throne by making him here assert that 
he would not exchange ' these woods ' for the ' envious court/ Moreover, although 
the printing of this line is the compositor's and not Shakespeare's, it is worth noting 
that there is merely a comma after the phrase, not a full stop. This faint indication 
of what the MS might possibly have been before the compositor's eyes, we may esti- 
mate for what it is worth. On the whole, as far as the Folio's text is concerned, ' I 
would not change it.' — Ed.] 

21. translate] Moberly : This is one of the interesting passages in which a great 
writer reflects upon his own expressions with pleasure or surprise. Dialogue gives 
great opportunity for such reflections ; as in Plato, Rep, 361 : ^apdi ^ f^'i/u, tj ^IXe 
rXavKuv, 6c kppufiivoCt ^anep avdpiavraf rdv reXeUoc &StKov imtadaipeic I and Hiad^ 
ix, 431. A most striking instance is 2 Cor. vi, 11, where St Paul, with a kind of sur- 
prise at the fervour of his own appeal, suddenly exclaims, rb ardfia ifiCiv dvi(^e irpd{ 
vfAOCf Koplvdtot, 1^ Kapdia ^fujv irenXdrwrai, 

24. irkes] Wright : The Eton Latin Grammar has made us familiar with < Tsedet, 
it irketh ' ; and irksome is still used in the sense of wearisome. Palsgrave (Lesc/ar' 
cissement de la langtie Francoyse) gives, * It yrketh me, I waxe wery, or displeasaunt 
of a thyng. // me ennuyV [See also Prompt, Parv. p. 266 ; Stratmann, p. 338 ; or 
Skeat, s. v.] 

24. dapled fooles] Dyce {Strictures^ p. 68) : Compare, *• Then he stroking once 
or twice his prettie goate .... said thus, Lie downe, pidefoole^ by me,' &c. — Shelton's 
Don Quixote, Part First, p. 556, ed. 1612. 

25. Burgers] Steevens : In Sidney's Arcadia the deer are called < the wild bur- 
gesses of the forest.' Again in the 1 8th Song [line 65] of Drayton's Poly-olHon : 
* Where, fearless of the hunt, the hart securely stood. And everywhere walk'd free, a 
burgess of the wood.' Malone : A kindred expression is found in Lodge's Rosa- 
lynde : < About her wondring stood The citizens of wood.' Compare line 59, post, 
[It is probable that Steevens trusted to his memory alone in citing the phrase from 
Sidney's Arcadia, The phrase, just as he has given it, cannot, I think, be there 
found, and the nearest approach to it does not refer to a deer, but to a shepherd. In 
Book ii, p. 220, ed. 1598, two young shepherds sing ' ecl(^ue-wise ' their rival com- 
plaints ; and Strephon says : < I that was once free burgesse of the forrests. Where 
shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at evening,' &c. The next sestine is sung by 
Klaius, and begins : ' I that was once delighted every morning, Hunting the wild 
inhabiters of forrests,' &c. These two passages Steevens may have confounded, and 
inadvertently omitted to give the exact reference, but unfortunately Steevens cannot 
be always implicitly trusted. — Ed.] 

26. forked heads] Steevens, Collier, and Haluwell define this as ' barbed 



70 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. i. 

Haue their round hanches goard 27 

I . Lord, Indeed my Lord 
The melancholy laques grieues at that, 29 

arrows/ for which they have some authority, though they do not cite it, in Cotgrave, 
where it stands, * Fer de fleiche i oreilles. A forked^ or barbed arrow-head^ But 
Wright {Lear^ I, i, 143) cites Ascham, whose authority is weightier than Cotgrave's, 
as follows : ' Two maner of arrowe heades sayeth Pollux, was vsed in olde tyme. The 
one he calleth d/iuvof , descrybynge it thus, hauyng two poyntes or barbes, lookyng 
backewarde to the stele and the fethers, which surely we call in Englishe a brode 
arrowe head or a swalowe tayle. The other he calleth yh^xi-^t hauing .ii. poyntes 
stretchyng forwarde, and this Englysh men do call a forke-head ' — Toxophilus^ p. 
135, ed. Arber ; again on p. 136 : * Commodus the Emperoure vsed forked heades, 
whose facion Herodiane doeth lyuely and naturally describe, sayinge that they were 
lyke the shap of a new mone wherwyth he would smite of the heade of a birde and 
neuer misse.' Singer defined the < forked heads ' as the antlers^ oblivious apparently 
of the physiological difficulty which stags would encoimter in attempting to gore their 
own round haunches with their horns. — Ed. 

28, &c. In J. P. Kemble*s Acting Copy, 1815, this speech is given to Jaques, begin- 
ning thus : * Indeed, my lord, IWe often griev'd at that. And, in that kind, think you 
do more usurp,' &c. Whether or not Kemble was the first to make this change I do 
not know. Of course the language throughout the rest of the scene is adapted to the 
change, and lines 68-70 are omitted. It is almost needless to remark that this sense- 
less change obliterates one of Shakespeare's artistic touches, whereby an important 
character is described and the key-note struck before he himself appears. — Ed. 

29. laques] Walker ( Vers. 3) : In French speeches or phrases the final e or «, 
now mute, is usually sounded. In Jaques^ ParoUes^ Marseilles the same rule holds 
without exception. [According to Mrs Cowden-Clarke's Concordance ^ Jaques occurs 
•ixteen times in these plays. Of these sixteen, ten instances are in prose or close a 
line, and are therefore useless as far as the pronunciation is concerned. Of the 
remaining six, one occurs in Lovis Lab. L. II, i, 42 ; one is in the present line ; two 
are in All^s Well (III, iv, 4 and III, v, 98) ; and two are in Hen. V (III, v, 43 and 
IV, viii, 98). This last line Walker himself considers an exception, despite the fact 
that he had just said that the rule was without exception ; it is * Jaques of | Chatil | 
Ion, ad I miral | of France.' This reduces the six instances of uncertain pronunciation 
to five. No less do I think the first instance in Hen. K is an exception, and that it 
must be thus scanned : < Jaques Cha | tillon, | Rambu | res, Vau | demont.' This 
reduces the five to four. The two instances in AlVs Well both refer to the church of 
St Jaques, and I believe them to be in the genitive, like St Peter's, and that the s 
should be heard after the monosyllable Jakes^ thus : < I am | Saint Jaques' | es^ pil | 
grim thi | ther gone,* and also : < There's four | or five | to great | Saint Jaques' | es 
bound.' This reduces the four to two, and in both of them the name appears unde- 
niably a dissyllable. Thus : < Of Ja | ques Faul | conbridge | solem | nisdd,' Lovers 
Lai. L. II, i, 42, and < The mel | ancho | ly Ja | ques grieves | at that.' Nevertheless 
the conviction expressed in the note on line 5 oi Dramatis Persona remains unshaken, 
that the name was in general pronounced as a monosyllable, with, possibly, the faint- 
est suggestion of a second syllable, such as we have in the word aches. Harington's 
anecdote and French's testimony are decisive to my mind that the name in Shake- 
speare's own day was a monosyllable. In our day it is to be hoped that, in this play 



ACT II, sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT Ji 

And in that kinde fweares you doe more vfuq)e 30 

Then doth your brother that hath banifh'd you : 

To day my Lord oi Amiens j^xid my felfe, 

Did fleale behinde him as he lay along 

Vnder an oake, whofe anticke roote peepes out 

Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood, 35 

To the which place a poore fequeftred Stag 

That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt, 

Did come to languifh ; and indeed my Lord 

The wretched annimall heauM forth fuch groanes 

That their difcharge did ftretch his leatheme coat 40 

Almoft to burfting, and the big round teares 

CoursM one another downe his innocent nofe 

In pitteous chafe : and thus the hairie foole. 

Much marked of the melancholie laques , 44 

34. atUUke\ anHque Pope. 34. roote\ roope F,. roop F^F^. 

•t least, it will not be heard otherwise than as a dissyllable : Jaq-nfes, which is as Mn 
Kemble pronounced it, — for me an ample authority. — Ed. 

34. Collier [Introd. p. 5) has preserved the following note, < made at the time,' 
from Coleridge's Lectures in 1818 : < Shakespeare never gives a description of rustic 
scenery merely for its own sake, or to show how well he can paint natural objects ; he 
is never tedious or elaborate, but while he now and then displays marvellous accuracy 
and minuteness of knowledge, he usually only touches upon the larger features and 
broader characteristics, leaving the fillings up to the imagination. Thus, he describes 
an oak of many centuries* growth in a single line : " Under an oak whose antique root 
peeps out" Other and inferior writers would have dwelt on this description, and 
worked it out with all pettiness and impertinence of detail. In Shakespeare the 
"antique root" furnishes the whole pictture.' 

34. anticke] Accented by Shakespeare on the first syllable. Steevens calls atten* 
tion to Gray's Elegy : * There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,' &c. 

36. the which] See I, ii, 120. 

39. Whalley (p. 57) compares this passage with Vergil's description, j€n. vii, 
500 €t ug,, a remote and almost pointless comparison, which, nevertheless, Malone 
and some other editors have repeated. 

41. temres] Steevens : In one of the marginal notes to a similar passage in the 
13th Song of Drayton's Pofy-o/dion, it is said that, * The Hart weepeth at his d3ring; 
his teares are held to be precious in medicine.' Douce (i, 296) : * When the hart is 
arered, he fleethe to a r3rver or ponde, and roreth cryeth and wepeth when he is take,' 
BaimoH vpon Barthohme^ xviii, 30. 

42. 43. Cours'd . . . chase] Whiter (p. 97) : Surely no reader of taste can 
doubt but that the < stag ' and < the hunter ' led the imagination of the poet to this 
beautiful metaphor. 

43. foole] For many references to the use of this word where no reproach is 
implied, see the notes on Lear^ V, iii, 306 : 'And my poor fool is hang'd I' 



76 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. iL 

Your Grace was wont to laugh is alfo milling, lo 

Hifperia the Princeffe Gentlewoman 

Gonfeffes that (he fecretly ore-heard 

Your daughter and her Gofen much commend 

The parts and graces of the Wraftler 

That did but lately foile the fynowie Charles^ 15 

And fhe beleeues where euer they are gone 

That youth is furely in their companie. 17 

10. iaugh.„mijing\laughf,., missing: 1 1. Hifperia] Ff, Rowe + , Cam. Mob. 
Ff. Wh. ii. ^/-j/Jm^ Warb. et cet 

CentUrvoman] F,. 

Harvey*8 Pierce's Supererogation^ 1 593 [p. 229, cd. Grosart] : 'Although she were 
.... somewhat like Gallemella, or maide Marian, yet was she not such a roinish ran- 
nell .... as this wainscot-faced Tomboy.* Hunter (i, 346) : I conceive * roynish * 
to mean obtrusive, troublesome, a fault we may well suppose often belonging to the 
poor unfortunates who were retained in the houses of the great. This at least is one 
of the meanings of the word, and it seems to suit the passage quite as well as the 
disagreeable senses which all the editors, down to the latest, have given it. Parkin- 
son says of the Germander that on account of its disposition to spread, it must be 
taken up and new set once in three or four years, < or else it will grow too roynish and 
troublesome,' Paradisus Terresfris, 1629, p. 6. Halliwell : Himter misinterprets 
the passage in Parkinson; 'roynish ' there means coarse; and 'troublesome' is used 
in a somewhat peculiar sense. * The slouen and the carelesse man, the roynish nothing 
nice.' — ^Tusser {^Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry^ &»c., p. 142, ed. 1 614]. 
Staunton : It may, however, be no more than a misprint of roguish, Wright : 
Cotgrave gives : < Rongneux .... scabbie, inangie, scuruie.' The contemptuous 
phrase in Macb, I, iii, 6, 'the rump-fed ronyon,' had probably the same origin. 
.... In the form 'nnish,' signifying 'wild, jolly, unruly, rude,' it is found among 
the Yorkshire words in Thoresby's Letter to Ray, reprinted by the English Dialect 
Society. ' Rennish,' in the sense of ' furious, passionate,' which is in Ray's Collection 
of North Country IVords, is perhaps another form of the same. [I do not find it in 
Skeat.— Ed.] 

11. Hisperia] That Warburton should have changed this name to suit himself is 
not surprising, but what excuse can his followers urge ? Of the conclusion of this 
speech a writer in Blackwood^ April, 1833, says : ' No unfitting conjectiure for a Sec- 
ond Lord and First Chambermaid ; but, though not wide amiss of the mark, as it hap- 
pened, yet vile. Hesperia would have left her couch at one tap at the window, and 
gone with the Wrestler whom she overheard the young ladies most commend (though 
we suspect, notwithstanding his mishap, that she would have preferred Charles), but 
Hesperia did not at all understand their conmiendation ; and had she been called on 
to give a report of it for a Court Journal, would not merely have mangled it sadly, but 
imbued it with her own notions of " parts and graces." ' 

II. Princesse] For many other instances of the omission of the plural or posses- 
sive J after words ending in the sound of x, see Walker, Vers. 243, or Abbott, § 471. 
See also ' Princesse,' I, ii, 159. 

14. Wrastlcr] A trisyllable. See Walker, Vers. 7, or Abbott, § 477. 



ACT II, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 77 

Duk, Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither, i8 
If he be abfent, bring his Brother to me. 

He make him finde him : do this fodainly ; 20 
And let not fearch and inquifition quaile, 

To bring againe thefe foolilh runawaies. Exunt. 22 



Scena Tertia. 



Enter Orlando and Adam. 

Orl. Who's there f 

Ad. What my yong Mafter, oh my gentle mafter. 
Oh my fweet mafter, O you memorie 

Of old Sir Rowland] why, what make you here ? 5 

Why are you vertuous ? Why do people loue you ? 
And wherefore are you gentle, ftrong, and valiant ? 
Why would you be fo fond to ouercome 8 

18. brother] brother's Cap. Ktly, Dyce I. Oliver's House. Rowe. 

iii, Huds. 5. Rowland;] Rowland? Ff. 

z8. brother] Mason : I believe we should read brother's. When the Duke says, 
< Fetch that gallant hither/ he certainly means Orlando. [An emendation which 
Mason may /Arni^^K have made independently of Capell; in whose text it is found. 
It is almost demanded by the next line. — Ed.] 

20. sodainly] Halliwell : That is, soon, immediately. This meaning, formerly 
prevalent, is not now used in colloquial language. In an advertisement appended to 
Walker's Treatise of English Particles, 1679, we are told that *the Whole Duty of 
man .... is now printing, and will suddenly be finished.' Wright : G)mpare 
Psalm vi, 10 : < Let them return and be ashamed suddenly.' 

21. quaUe] Steevens : To < quail ' is io faint, to sink into dejection. Douce (i, 
297) : Here, however, it means to slacken, relax, or diminish. * Thus Himger cureth 
love, for love quaileth when good cheare faileth.' — The Choise of Change, 1585. 
Singer : < To quaile, fade, faile,' are among the interpretations Cotgrave gives of the 
word Alachir. Dyce (ed. iii) : Mr Lettsom observes that *fail [Mr Lloyd's con- 
jecture] seems more appropriate here than " quail." ' 

4. memorie] Steevens: Often used by Shakespeare for memorial. Malonb 
(note on * these weeds are memories of those worser hours,' Lear, IV, vii, 7) : Thus 
in Stowe's Survey, 161 8; <A printed memorie hanging up in a table at the entrance 
into the church door.' 

8. 80 fond to] See I, iii, 68. Wright : * Fond ' is contracted from * fonned ' or 
'fonnyd.' The latter form occturs in Wiclif's version of i Qor. i, 27 (ed. Lewis), 
where < tho thingis that ben fonnyd ' is the rendering of < quae stulta sunt.' The former 
w found in the second of the Wiclifite Versions, edited by Forshall and Madden, i 



.LKfJI^Cl. . 



78 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. iii. 

The bonnie prifer of the humorous Duke f 

Your praife is come too fwiftly home before you. ID 

Know you not Mafter,to feeme kinde of men, 

Their graces ferue them but as enemies, 

No more doe yours : your vertues gentle Mafter 1 3 

9. bonnie] bonny Ff, Rowe, Pope, bony Johns, et cet. 
Theob. Han. Wh. i, Cam. boney Warb. 11. feeme] /ome Ff. 

Cor. i, 20, * Whether God hath not maad the wisdom of this world fonned ?* where the 
Vulgate has ' nonne stultam fecit Deus sapientiam hujns mundi ?' Hence * fonnednesse ' 
in the same version is used for < foolishness.' * Fonned ' is derived fix>m * fon,' a fool, 
which occurs in Chaucer's Revels Tale^ 1. 4087 : * II hail, Aleyn, by God ! thou is a fon.' 
Afiud ' fon ' is connected with the Swedish ybn^, and perhaps with the Latin vanus. 

9. bonnie] Warburton : We should read bony. For this wrestler is character- 
ised for his strength and bulk, not for his gayety or good humour. Heath (p. 146) : 
* Bonny * does not signify gay or good-humoured only, but high-spirited , active. 
Steevens : * Bonny,' however, may be the true reading. So in ^ Hen. VI: V, ii, 
12: 'Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.' M alone: The word * bonny' 
occurs more than once in Lodge's Novel. Dyce (ed. iii) : * Bonny ' is retained by 
some editors, most improperly I think. (As Charles is here called ' bony,' so in the 
preceding scene he is called * sinewy.') Wright : It may be doubted whether in 
Shakespeare's time < bony ' signified big-boned, and whether a bony man would not 
rather mean a thin and skeleton-hke man. 

9. priser] Wright : Prize-fighter, champion ; properly, one who contends for a 
prize, as in Jonson's Cynthia^ s Revels, IV, i [p. 323, ed. Gifford] : * Well, I have a 
plot upon these prizers.' Again, lb, V, ii [p. 334, and in at least three other passages in 
the same scene]. 

9. humorous] See I, ii, 265. 

II. seeme kinde of men] See Lear, II, ii, 96, or Abbott, § 412. 

II, 12. Walker (Crii. i, 55) gives this, among others, as an instance <of what 
may, perhaps, be described as an instinctive striving after a natural arrangement of 
words, inconsistent indeed with modem English grammar, but perfectly authorised by 
that of the Elizabethan age.' < Here a Greek would find no difficulty : Ovk olaSa, 
bn ivloiq rijv avOpCmuv Ktu rd, avruv KaXa iro^fuA eartv ; One may perhaps compare 
Sidney, Arcadia, bk. iii, p. 323, 1. 15, " The general concert of whose mourning per- 
formed so the natural times of sorrow, that even to them (if any such were) that felt 
not the loss, yet others' grief taught them grief — ." * So, too * —let it then suffice To 
drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes,' R, of L, 1. 1679. Abbott, although he 
gives these lines under his paragraph (§ 414) which treats of redimdant accusatives, 
yet says that * them ' is in a somewhat different case, probably because the inverted 
order calls for a repetition for clearness' sake. The instance fiom Sidnejr's Arcadia 
cited by Walker seems to me exactly parallel. Though the * them ' is redundant, it 
is not of the some kind of redundancy as in < I know you what you are.'— Ed. 

13. No . . . yours] Abbott, § 414 : That is, your graces are not more serviceable 
to you. Schmidt (s. v. more, 5) says that *no less would have been expected.* 
Hardly, I think. If the service were a real service, we might say * no less '; but the 
service is false, virtues are traitors, and * no more ' good service does Orlando get from 
his graces than if they were his enemies. — Ed. 



ACT II, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 79 

Are fanftified and holy traitors to you : 

Oh what a world is this, when what is comely 15 

Enuenoms him that beares it ? 

Why, what^s the matter ? 

Ad. O vnhappie youth. 
Come not within thefe doores : within this roofe 19 

17. WSy] Orl. WSyFfetseq. it^, within this\ beneath this Cap. 

19. within the/e"] with thefe F,. conj. 

15. when] Allen (MS): Possibly, ^ where what is comely.* If *when* be 
retained, then < world ' is taken in its most restricted meaning, as this life of our little 
domestic circle. If where is used, then the * world ' is equivalent to this wide world 
of man, this animate creation of God's. Cf. II, vii, 1 1 : < what a life is this That 
your poor friends must woo your company.' Also below, line 59 : ' The constant ser- 
vice of the antique worlds When service sweat for duty.' [A note, added later.— 
Ed.] Cf. De Quincey {Suspiria^ p. Z94) : < In what world was I living when a man 
(calling himself a man of God) could stand up publicly, and give God "hearty 
thanks," that He had taken my sister?' (Perhaps, therefore, in Shakespeare, the 
full meaning is, ' What a pass has this world come to, when^ &c. And so < when ' 
can stand.) 

16. Enuenoms] Walker {Crit, iii, 61): Was the shirt of Nessus in Shake- 
speare's mind ? [The same reference occurred independently to Allen. See next 
note.] 

16. beares] Allen (MS) : The figure appears to be that of putting on a garment, 
like the shirt of Nessus or that sent by Medea to Jason's new wife. If so, * bears ' 
is, singularly, used like the French porter {^ parte un bel habit), or we should read 
wears, 

19. within this roofe] Collier (ed. ii) : This may be right, and we do not alter 
it; but * beneath this roof seems more proper, and that is the word in the (MS). 
Perhaps the old printer repeated * within ' by mistake. [This remark of Collier's, if 
needless, is, apparently, perfectly harmless, and yet it seems to have irritated Dyce 
greatly, who in his StrictureSy &c., p. 68, writes as follows : * It is most unwise in Mr 
Collier to commit himself, as here and in fifly other places, by thinking it necessary 
to say something in favour of those very readings of his Corrector which he does not 
adopt, ** Roof" was often used for the house in general : ** If time, and foode, and 
wine enough acme Within your roofe to vs," &c., Chapman's Homer's Odysses, b. 
xiv, p. 216, ed. fo.' It is impossible for us, removed as we are by time and space 
from the animosities of the hour, to comprehend the reason for the sharpness of the 
criticisms on Collier. Thus, in the present case, I cannot, try as I may, see why it is 
' most unwise ' to express a mild approval of an emendation, which is all that Collier 
has here done ; he does not commit himself by changing the text, he merely says the 
emendation < seems more proper,' wherein I must say I agree with him ; and if Dyce 
had only turned to Mrs Clarke's Concordance he could have foimd there three 
instances at least where reference is made to being * underneath ' or * under ' a roof, 
and there may be others : the point is not worth further time, because * roof is unques- 
tionably used elsewhere for the whole house. Before Dyce issued his third edition 
he had learned that the same conjecture had been made by Capell, who is held by all 



8o AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. iii. 

The enemie of all your graces Hues 20 

Your brother, no, no brother, yet the fonne 

(Yet not the fon, I will not call him fon) 

Of him I was about to call his Father, 

Hath heard your praifes, and this night he meanes, 

To bume the lodging where you vfe to lye, 25 

And you within it : if he faile of that 

He will haue other meanes to cut you off; 

I ouerheard him: and his pra6lifes : 

This is no place, this houfe is but a butcherie ; 

Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it. 30 

Ad. Why whether Adam would'ft thou haue me go? 

Ad. No matter whether, fo you come not here. 

Orl. What,would'ft thou haue me gd& beg my food, 
Or with a bafe and boiftrous Sword enforce 
A theeuifh liuing on the common rode? 35 

This I muft do, or know not what to do : 
Yet this I will not do, do how I can. 
I rather will fubieft me to the malice 38 

21. noy no brother^ no; no brother^ 31, 32. whether] whither Ff. 

Rowe ii + . no; no brother; Theob. 31. would' Jf] would Y^, 

Warb. 32. /? you] for you Ff. 

31. Ad.] Orl. Ff. 

Shakespeare scholars in esteem, and although he still pronounced the conjecture 
< very erroneous/ he did not repeat his remark about the unwisdom of expressions 
of approval. — Ed. "J 

26. faile of] See Abbott, $ 177. 

28. practises] Dyce : Contrivances, artifices, strategems, treachery, conspiracy. 

29. place] Steevens : < Race ' here signifies a seat^ a mamum^ a residence. So 
in / Samuel f xv, 12 : * Saul came to Carmel, and, behold, he set him up a place,' &c. 
Thus * Crosby place * in Rich. III.^ &c. Malone : Compare A Lover's Complaint^ 
82 : < Love lack'd a dwelling and made him her place.' Mason (Additional Com- 
ments, &c., p. 21) : It i^ppears to me that Adam means merely to tell Orlando that 
his brother's house was no place fit for him to repair to. Compare Fletcher's Mad 
Lover [I, ii, 3], where Memnon says : ' Why were there not such women in the camp 
then, Prepar'd to make me know 'em ?' To which Eumenes replies, * 'Twas no place, 
sir.' Meaning that the camp was not a place fit for them. Knight : But there could 
be no sense in saying this is no house — place — ^mansion ; this house is but a butchery. 
It is clearly, this is no abiding-place. Dyce follows Steevens. Neil : There is per- 
haps here an aposiopesis^ or emotional interruption of the sentence, leaving the words, 
* for you to approach,' unexpressed. 

31, 32. thou . . . you] See I, i, 74. 

38. subiect] Steevens, Malone, Dyce, in fact all editors who adopt accents in the 



ACT u, sc. ui.] AS YOU LIKE IT 8i 

Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother. 

Ad. But do not fo : I haue fiue hundred Crownes/ 40 

The thriftie hire I faued vnder your Father, 
Which I did ftore to be my fofter Nurfe, 
When feruice fhould in my old limbs lie lame. 
And vnregarded age in comers throwne, 

Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede, 45 

Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age : here is the gold. 
All this I giue you, let me be your feruant. 
Though I looke old, yet I am ftrong and luftie ; 49 

41. your] you Ff. 44. age^ age be Ktly. 

43. IW] be Han. Quincy (MS). 

text, here accent the second syllable. The inference is that without this aid to the 
eye the unwary reader would pronounce the word * sdbject ' ; and Wright goes so far 
as to call attention to the fact that * the accent is on the last syllable, as in Temp. I, ii, 
114.' This is puzzling. Are we to infer that in England at the present day this verb 
is an exception to the rule that dissyllabic verbs accent the second syllabic ? As 
Rolfe says : * This [1. e. subject] is the modem pronunciation of the verb, at least in 
this country; and it is the only one in Shakespeare.' — Ed. 

39. diuerted blood] Johnson : That is, blood turned out of the course of nature. 
Collier : The line as it stands is intelligible enough ; but it may be reasonably 
doubted whether the old compositor did not make a lapse, for the MS corrector 
instructs us to read : * diverted, protui^ &c. * Blood ' was formerly often spelt blotidy 
and hence, possibly, the error of mistaking proud for * bloud.' Dyce ; * The lan- 
g^uage is so strikingly Shakespearian, that nothing but the most extreme obtuseness 
can excuse the MS corrector's perverse reading.' — Blackwood'' s MagazifUy Aug. 
1853, p. 198. Wright : * Blood ' is used for passion in opposition to reason in 
Ham. Ill, ii, 74. Here it denotes natural affection, such as should accompany blood- 
relationship. 

41. thriftie hire] A singular use of the adjective. The thrift is neither the cause 
of the hire nor the effect of the hire. It cannot, therefore, I think, be exactly paral- 
leled by *weak evils' in II, vii, 138, which are evils caused by weakness, nor by the 
* gentle weal ' in * Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal,' Macb. Ill, iv, 76, that 
is, 'purged the commonwealth and made it gentle.' Both of these examples have 
been adduced as parallel. It is more like ' youthful wages ' in line 69 below, a con- 
structio pregnansy to which the ordinary meaning of prolcpsis scarcely, perhaps, 
applies. Allen (MS) paraphrases : * that which by my thriftiness I saved out of 
the hire,' &c. — Ed. 

44. In his paragraph (§ 403) on the * Ellipsis of // is. There m, Is ' Abbott gives 

this passage and thus prints this line : *And unregarded age (? should be) in comers 

thrown.' To harmonise the construction and avoid this ellipsis Hanmer substituted 

A^ for ' lie ' in the preceding line, which is not only needless, but, I think, really 

injorious. There is a certain feebleness or helplessness in the old limbs iyifig lame in 

comeis, which Hanmer's text obliterates. — Ed. 
6 



83 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. iiL 

For in my youth I neuer did apply 50 

Hot^and rebellious liquors in my bloud^ 

Nor did not with vnbafhfuU forehead woe, 

The meanes of weakneffe and debilitie, 

Therefore my age is as a luftie winter, 

Froftie, but kindely ; let me goe with you, 55 

He doe the feruice of a yonger man 

In all your bufmeffe and neceffities. 

OrL Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares 
The conftant feruice of the antique world. 

When feruice fweate for dutie, not for neede: 60 

Thou art not for the faftiion of thefe times. 
Where none will fweate, but for promotion, 
And hauing that do choake their feruice vp, 
Euen with the hauing, it is not fo with thee : 64 

51. wf my^ to my Cap. conj. 60. fweate] swet Dycc, Clke. 

52. nof] /Rowe + . neede"] F^, Rowe i. meede F,Fj 
59. feruice] fashion Ktly. virtue Neil et cet 

conj. 

51. rebeUious liquors in] Malone suggested that the rebellion here is that against 
reason, but Steevens, with greater probability, I think, interpreted the reference as to 
liquors < that rebel against the constitution.' In this case Capell's conjecture of < to the 
blood * is rendered needless. — Ed. 

52. Nor did not] For the double negative here, and * I cannot goe no further,* in 
the eleventh line of the next scene, see Abbott, § 406, or Shakespeare passim. 

57. businesse] Allen (MS) suggests that this is the plural, business', 

59, 60. seruice . . . seruice] Walker (Crit. i, 293) : I believe that the former 
service * is the corrupt one ; yet I can imagine Shakespeare having written, < When 

duty sweat for duty,' &c. [Lettsom in a foot-note conjectiu-es, < The constant tem- 
per^ &c.] Collier (ed. ii) : The (MS) corrector alters the former * service ' to 
favour^ in the sense of likeness or appearance. Halliwell : One critic suggests 
that the second ' service ' should be altered to servants, [It is to be confessed that 
in general the repetition of a word in the very next line is suspicious, but here there 
seems a need for the repetition. Moreover, in this speech there are other repetitions ; 
lee, as Rolfe points out, < sweat,* in lines 60 and 62 ; and < having,* in lines 63 and 
64.— Ed.] 

60. sweate] This form may be considered either as the perfect indicative with the 
-ed absorbed, for which see Abbott, § 341, or it may be a strong form and pronounced 
rwcttf or the spelling may be changed as Dyce has changed it. — Ed. 

60. neede] An instance of variation in different copies of the First Folio. The 
original of Booth's Reprint and of Staunton's Photo-lithograph evidently read 
* meede;* and so also presumably did that of the Cambridge Editors; they have 
recorded no variant. My copy reads unmistakeably 'neede.* — ^Ed. 

64. hauing] Johnson : Even with the promotion gained by service is service 
extinguished. 




ACT II, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 83 

But poore old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree, 65 

That cannot fo much as a bloffome yeelde, 

In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie, 

But come thy waies, weele goe along together, 

And ere we haue thy youthfuU wages fpent, 

Weele light vpon fome fetled low content. 70 

Ad, Mafter goe on, and I will follow thee 
To the laft gafpe with truth and loyaltie, 
From feauentie yeeres, till now almoft fourefcore 
Here liued I, but now Hue here no more 

At feauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes feeke 75 

But at fourefcore, it is too late a weeke, 
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better 
Then to die well, and not my Mafters debter. Exeunt J>i 

73. /eauentU] feventy Ff. seventeen Rowe et acq. 

65. rotten tree] Moberly : Orlando says melancholy things, as in I, ii ; but his 
elastic mind rises instantly from such thoughts, and in a few moments he anticipates 
< some settled low content.' A fine instance of the same manly temper is found in 
the Iliad^ vi, where Hector at one moment dwells sorrowfully on his wife's inevitable 
doom of slavery at Argos, and the next thinks of her as a joyful Trojan mother wel- 
coming back her victorious son (see w. 447-465 and 476-481). 

71. thee] Note the change of the personal pronoun with the changed personal 
relations. — Ed. 

73. seauentie] See Text. Note for the obvious correction. 

76. a weeke] Caldecott . That is, a period of time, indefinitely. The calcula- 
tion of time by this interval was not then confined, as it is at present, to small con- 
tracts or domestic engagements and a fixed period, but embraced a large and indefinite 
compass and extended to all things. < To whose heavenly praise My soule hath bin 
devoted many a weeke,* Heywood's Britain^ s Troy^ 1609, p. 251. Halliwell 
adds also, from Heywood's Workes [Spenser Soc. ed. p. 74 — ap. Wright]. 'And, 
amend ye or not, I am to olde a yere.' Wright : But it seems more likely that < a 
week ' is an adverbial phrase equivalent to * i' the week.' See < a night,* line 49, in 
the next scene. Verity: Perhaps in the week is the meaning; or, which seems to 
me more probable, < by a week.' 



84 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. iv. 



Scena Quarta. 



Enter Rofaline for Ganimedy Celiafor Aliena,and 
ClownCy alias Touchjlone. 

Rof, O lupitery how merry are my fpirits ? 3 

z . Rofaline . . .Touchftone] Rosalind in Rowe. 
Boys Cloaths for Ganimed, Celia drest 3. merry\ Ff, Rowe, Pope, Cald. Knt. 

like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown. weary Theob. et cet 

3. merry] Theobald : And yet, within the space of one intervening line, she says 
she could find in her heart to disgrace her man's apparel and cry like a woman. 
Sure, this is but a very bad symptom of the briskness of spirits : rather a direct proof 
of the contrary disposition. Mr Warburton and I both concurred in conjecturing it 
should be, as I have refonn'd it in the text : * how weary are my spirits.* And the 
Qown's reply makes this reading certain. [ Weary was also suggested to Theobald 
in 1732 by an anonymous correspondent, L. H. ; see Nichols's Illust. ii, 632. — Ed.] 
Guthrie {Crit. Rev., Dec. 1765, p. 407) : We think that Rosalind's rejoinder [lines 
6, &c.] makes the original reading certain ; from this speech (which we are to suppose 
Celia not to hear) Rosalind affects a merriness of spirits. Malone : Rosalind invokes 

* Jupiter ' because he was supposed to be always in good spirits. So afterwards : * O 
most gentle Jupiter I' The context and the Clown's reply render certain Theobald's 
emendation. Whiter (p. 16) : The context, however, and the Qown's reply, added 
to the comment of Mr Malone, establish the original reading and render Theobald's 
emendation certainly wrong. Does not the reader perceive that the whole humour 
of the passage consists in the word Merry, and that Rosalind speaks thus ironically 
in order to comfort Celia? •O Jupiter!' says she, *what Merry spirits I am in!* 
To which the Qown replies, * I care not whether my spirits were good or bad, if my 
legs were not weary.' — * Indeed,* adds Rosalind, * to speak the truth, tho' I pretend 
in my mannish character to be in good spirits, and not to be weary, yet I could find in 
my heart to disgrace my man's apparel and to cry like a woman ; as it becomes me, 
however, to comfort the weaker vessel, I must assume a quality which I have not ; — 
therefore, courage^ good Aliena, bear fatigue as I do, good Aliena.* Nothing is more 
certain than this explanation. Knight pronounces Winter's explanation as marked 

* with great good sense.* Collier : Why should Rosalind assume good spirits here 
to Celia, when in the very next sentence she utters she says that her spirits are so bad 
that she could almost cry? White (ed. i) : If Rosalind were to say that her spirits 
were * merry,* Touchstone's reply would have no point. In Walker's chapter [Crit, 
ii, 300) on < m and w confounded ' this line is cited ; and that Knight should have 
followed the Folio in reading * merry * Walker marks with an exclamation. Dyce 
quotes Knight's note, printing in small capitals *■ great good sense,* and adds at the 
conclusion : * Surely such notes are quite enough to make any one " merry,'* — absolute 
Cordials for Low Spirits^ [With all deference to my betters, I respectfully but 
firmly protest against making the cart draw the horse, and changing Rosalind's speech 
to suit the himiour in Touchstone's. The confusion of m and tf, on which Walker 



ACT II, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 85 

Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legges were not 
wearie. 5 

Rof. I could finde in my heart to difgrace my mans 
apparell, and to cry like a woman : but I muft comfort 
the weaker veffell, as doublet and hofe ought to fhow it 
felfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good 
Aliena, 10 

Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no fur- 
ther. 

Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then 13 

7. to] Om. Rowe + . 11. cannot "} can Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. 

9. to\ to a FjF^, Rowe. Johns. Cap. Coll. Sing. Clke, Ktly. 

11, 12. further\ farther Coll. 

relies, will do well enough in such words as may and way^ mind and wind^ meek and 
weeky &c., but a little too much confusion is demanded to justify the change of nurry 
into wearie. The ductus literarum is helpful where nonsense is to be converted to 
sense, but is there any nonsense here ? Is it not clear that Rosalind is talking for 
effect ? With Celia * fainting almost to death ' and needing every possible encourage- 
ment, is it likely that Rosalind, the taller and stronger of the two, would utter such a 
wail of despair as the substitution of weary for * merry ' would make her sigh forth ? 
Of course this merriment of hers is assumed, and that it is assumed, and that we may 
know that it is assumed, she tells us, in an aside, by confessing that in her heart she 
is ready to cry like a woman. This confession must be in an aside ; at least Celia 
must not hear it ; if Celia heard it no syllable of stimulus would she have foimd in an 
encouragement thus clearly and confessedly fictitious; she must believe Rosalind's 
courage to be genuine if it is to impart any strength to her. Grant that this last con- 
fession of Rosalind's is an aside, then it is clear that in the first line, which cannot be 
an aside, we must retain * merry,' and with it the strength of Rosalind's character. 
Deny that this confession is an aside, then we may adopt Theobald's weary ^ add a 
feeble ray of humour to Touchstone's remark, reduce all that Rosalind says to a 
whine, and weaken Celia's character by showing her capable of being encouraged by 
a jauntiness confessedly and openly false and assumed. — Ed.] 

9. therefore courage] To indicate the termination of the aside, and that ' cour- 
age ' is the first word addressed to Celia, I think this should be printed * Therefore, 
courage, good Aliena !' — Ed. 

II. cannot goe no] See line 52 of preceding scene. Caldecott regards this 
double negative as so thoroughly Shakespearian that he cites the change in the Second 
Folio (see Text. Notes) as one among many proofs of Malone's theory, that the altera- 
tions in that edition were * arbitrary and made without a knowledge of the author's 
manner.* But Dyce (ed. iii) says : * I feel strongly tempted to read here, with the 
Second Folio, " I can go no further," the very words of Adam in the first line of the 
sixth scene below.' [However strong the temptation, it is unquestionably wise to 
resist it. — Ed.] 

13, 14. beare . . . beare] A play on the same word is cited by Steevens in Rich, 
III: III, i, 128; and by Wright in Two Gent. I, i, 125-128. 



86 AS YOC/ LIKE IT [act ii. sc. iv. 

beare you : yet I fliould beare no croffe if I did beare 

you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purfe. 15 

Rof. Well, this is the Forreft of Arden. 

Clo, I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I 
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers muft 
be content 

Enter Carin and Siluius. 20 

Rof. I, be fo good Touchjionex Look you, who comes 
here, a yong man and an old in folemne talke. 

Cor. That is the way to make her fcome you ftill. 23 

14. crosse] Dyce : ' The ancient penny, according to Stow, had a double cross 
with a crest stamped on it, so that it might be easily broken in the midst, or in four 
quarters. Hence it became a common phrase when a person had no money about 
him, to say, he had not a singU cross. As this was certainly an unfortunate circum- 
stance, there is no end to the quibbling on this poor word,' — Gifford's note on John^ 
son's Works f vol. i, p. 134. Wright: A play upon the figurative expression in 
MattheWf x, 38. 

17. Arden] Upton (p. 245) : The Clown, agreeable to his character, is in a pun- 
ning vein, and replys thiis, <Ay, now I am in a den,* &c. Hartley Coleridge (ii, 
141) : Nothing can exceed the mastery with which Shakespeare, without any obtru- 
sive or undramatic description, transports the imagination to the sunny glades and 
massy shadows of imibrageous Arden. The leaves rustle and glisten, the brooks mur- 
mur unseen in the copses, the flowers enamel the savannas, the sheep wander on the 
distant hills, the deer glance by and hide themselves in the thickets, and the sheep- 
cotes sprinkle the far landscape spontaneously, without being shown off, or talked 
about. You hear the song of the birds, the belling of the stags, the bleating of the 
flocks, and a thousand sylvan, pastoral sounds beside, blent with the soft plaints and 
pleasant ambiguities of the lovers, the sententious satire of Jacques, and the courtly 
fooling of Touchstone, without being told to listen to them. Shakespeare does all 
that the most pictorial dramatist could do, without ever sinking the dramatist in the 
landscape-painter. The exuberant descriptions of some recent authors are little more 
dramatic than the voluminous stage directions in translated German melodramas. I 
know not what share the absence of painted scenes might have in preserving our old 
dramatists from this excess, but I believe that the low state of estimation of landscape- 
painting had a good deal to do with it. Luxurious description characterises the sec- 
ond childhood of poetry. In its last stage, it begins, like Falstaff, to babble of green 
fields. 

21, 22. Walker {Crit, i, 16) : Arrange thus: 

'Ay, 

Be so, good Touchstone ; — ^Look you, who comes here ; 
A young man and an old, in solemn talk.' 

This, too, serves as a stepping-stone from the prose dialogue preceding to the con- 
versation in verse between Corin and Silvius. 



ACT n, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT %7 

Sil. Oh Corifty that thou kneVft how I do loue her. 

Car. I partly guefle : for I haue lou'd ere now. 25 

Sil. No CoriHy being old, thou canft not guefle, 
Though in thy youth thou waft as true a louer 
As euer fighM vpon a midnight pillow : 
But if thy loue were euer like to mine, 

As fure I thinke did neuer man loue fo : 30 

How many aftions moft ridiculous. 
Haft thou beene drawne to by thy fantafie ? 

Car, Into a thoufand that I haue forgotten. 

Sil. Oh thou didft then neuer loue fo hartily, 
If thou remembreft not the flighteft folly, 35 

That euer loue did make thee run into. 
Thou haft not louM. 
Or if thou haft not fat as I doe now, 38 

29. euer] ere Ff. 35. JlighiefT] slighted Rowe. 

30, in parenthesis, Pope et seq. 38. fat] /ate Ff, Rowe. 
34. neuer] ne'er Rowe + , Coll. 

27. wast] Allen (MS) : Wert seems to be required. Silvius does not mean 
to state or to recognise the fact that Corin really had been such a lover, but merely 
to concede that if Corin had been, &c. he could not now, in his old age, guesa^ 
&c. 

32. fantasie] Wright : The earlier form of the word * fancy.' * Fantasie * occurs 
in Chaucer's Merchants Tale, 1. 945 1, in the margin of the later Wiclifite version of 
Josh, xxii, 19, and perhaps earlier still. Arber, in the few words of Introduction to 
his reprint of Dryden's Essay on Dramatic Poesie {^English Gamer , iii, 502), notes 
four changes of the meaning of * fancy.' First, in the Elizabethan Age it was but 
another word for personal Lave or Affection, Second, by the Restoration Age its 
meaning had utterly changed. Sir Robert Howard, who wrote it Phancy, Dryden, 
and that generation understood by it. Imagination, the mental power of Picturing 
forth. Third, Coleridge, in his Biographic Literaria, 1812, endeavours yet further 
to distinguish between Imagination and Fancy; calling Milton an Imaginative Poet, 
and Cowley a Fanciful one. Fourth, it is now also used in another sense, < I do not 
fancy that,' equivalent to * I do not like or prefer that' 

34. Johnson : I am inclined to believe that from this passage Suckling took the 
hint of his song : * Honest lover, whosoever. If in all thy love there ever Was one 
wav'ring thought ; if thy flame Were not still even, still the same ; Know this Thou 
lov'st amiss. And to love true. Thou must begin again, and love anew,' &c 

36. into] The second syllable receives an accent. See Walker {Crit. ii, 173) or 
Abbott, §457, <j. 

37, 40, 43. Abbott, § 511 : Single lines with two or three accents are frequently 
interspersed amid the ordinary verses of five accents. These lines are often found in 
passages of soliloquy where passion is at its height Thus in the madness of Lear^ 
IV, vi, 1 12-127. So in this impassioned speech of Silvius. 



88 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. iv. 

Wearing thy hearer in thy Miftris praife, 

Thou haft not lou'd. 40 

Or if thou haft not broke from companie, 

Abruptly as my paflion now makes me, 

Thou haft not lou'd. 

Phebe, Phcbe, Phebe. Exit 

Rof. Alas poore Shepheard fearching of they would, 45 

1 haue by hard aduenture found mine owne. 

Clo. And I mine : I remember when I was in loue, I 
broke my fword vpon a ftone, and bid him take that for 
comming a night to lane Smile, and I remember the kif- 
fing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie 50 

39. Wearing"] Wearying Ff, Rowe + , 46. mine] my Rowe ii + , Cald. 

Cap. Steev. Mai. Coll. Clke, Ktly, Huds. 49. a nigA/'] a nights Ff, Rowe + . 

Wh. ii. Wearing Wh. i. 0* nights Cap. 0^ night Mai. Wh. anight 

44. Exit.] Exeunt. Ff. or a-night Steev. et cet. 

45. they woiild"] their wound YijCtXd.. 50. batter'] batlet Ff, Rowe + , Cap. 
Knt. thy wound Rowe et cet. Steev. Mai. Sing. Dyce. 

39. Wearing] Whiter (p. 17) cites an old definition from Junius, Etymol. Angli- 
cany s. V. Weary which shows clearly enough that to wear and to weary w^ere formerly 
synon3rmous, and then adds : but the following quotation from Jonson's The Gipsies 
Metamorphosed [p. 419, ed. Gifford] puts the matter out of dispute : * Or a long pre- 
tended fit. Meant for mirth, but is not it ; Only time and ears out-wearing.' Skeat 
derives * wear ' from A.-S. werian^ to clothe ; and * weary ' from A.-S. wkrigy tired, 
connected with A.-S. worian, to wander, a weak verb formed from the substantive 
w6r, which probably meant a moor or swampy place ; so that worian was originally 
* to tramp over wet ground,' the most likely thing to cause weariness. 

41 . broke] For a list of similar participles that have dropped the -en^ see Abbott, § 343. 

43, 44. From Capell to Collier these two lines were printed improperly as one ; 
Collier restored the old division. 

45. searching of] For similar instances of this preposition afler present parti- 
ciples, meaning * in the act of,* see Abbott, § 178. Cf. also II, vii, 5. 

45. they would] See Text. Notes. Neither Caldecott nor Knight gives any 
justification of their text. Unquestionably Rowe's correction should stand. — Ed. 

46. aduenture] Allen (MS) : The * adventure * (or experiment, /^n//«/w F) was 
not in itself a hard or painful one to Rosalind ; but by the chance of hearing Sylvius 
expose his state [of love-pains] her similar pains were brought out ; and the hardness 
was in the pain thus brought out. 

49. a night] For many examples of adverbs with the prefix a-, which represents 
some preposition, as in, on, of, &c., contracted by rapidity of pronunciation, see 
Abbott, § 24. 

49, 51. the kissing of . . . the wooing of] Abbott, § 93 : The substantive use 
of the verbal with * the * before it and *of* after it, seems to have been regarded as 
colloquial. Shakespeare puts it into the mouth of Touchstone. 

50. batler] Johnson : The instrument with which washers beat their coarse clothes. 



ACT II, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 89 

chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing 51 

of a peafcod inftead of her , from whom I tooke two 

Halliwell: Often spelt batUt. It is also called a bailing-staff ox a bat-staffs and 
sometimes a batting-staff. Wright [gives many forms of the word in various Eng- 
lish dialects, and adds] : The two forms, < batler ' and batlet as diminutives of bat^ 
may be compared with * lancer' (/ Kings^ xviii, 28, ed. 1611), and * lancet* as 
diminutive of * lance.* The form * lancet ' is substituted in modem editions of the 
Authorised Version. [See also Skeat, s. v. * battledore.'] 

51. chopt] Wright: That is, chapped; as in Sonn. Ixii, 10: * Seated and chopl 
with tand antiquitie.' Both forms of the word were used, the pronunciation being 
the same in each case. Cotgrave gives : * Crevasser, To chop, chawne, chap, chinke, 
riue, or cleaue asunder.* And in the Authorised Version of Jeremiah ^ xiv, 4 (ed. 
161 1 ), we find, * Because the ground is chapt, for there was no raine on the earth.* 

51. the wooing] Halliwell: Our ancestors were frequently accustomed in their 
love affairs to employ the divination of a peascod, by selecting one growing on the 
stem, snatching it away quickly, and if the omen of the peas remaining in the husk 
were preserved, then presenting it to the lady of their choice. According to Mr 
Davy, speaking of Suffolk, * the efficacy of peascods in the affairs of sweethearts is 
not yet foi^otten among our rustic vulgar. The kitchen-maid, when she shells green 
peas, never omits, if she finds one having nine peas, to lay it on the lintel of the 
kitchen-door, and the first clown who enters it is infallibly to be her husband or at 
least her sweetheart.' .... * Winter-time for shoeing, peascod-time for wooing,' is an 
old proverb in a MS Devon. Gl. But perhaps the allusion in Shakespeare is best 
illustrated by the following passage in Browne's Britannia' s Pastorals [B. ii. Song 3, 
11. 93-96, ed. Hazlitt — ap, Wright] : * The peascod greene oft with no little toyle 
Hee'd seeke for in the fattest fertil'st soile. And rend it from the stalke to bring it to 
her, And in her bosome for acceptance wooe her.* [Halliwell cites no authority for 
this note, which is also to be found in nearly the same words in Brand's Popular 
Antiquities^ ii, 99, ed. Bohn, as noted by Wright.] Whiter (p. 17) quotes the fol- 
lowing proverb from Florio's Second Fnttes^ I59i» for ^^ reason that I can discern 
other than that the word * peascod ' is common to both passages : * If women were as 
little as they are good, A Peascod would make them a gowne and a hood.* 

52. peascod] Farmer : In a schedule of jewels in the 15 vol. of Rymer's Foedera^ 
we find: * Item, two peascoddes of gold with 17 pearles.* Steevens: The ancient 
name for peas as they are brought to market. So in Greene's Groundwork of Cony- 
catching^ 1 592, * went twice in the week to London, either with fruit or pescods,' &c. 
Again, in The Honest Man^s Fortune ^ by Beau, and Fl. : * thou shalt wear gold, feed 
on delicates; the first peascods, strawberries, grapes,' &c. [HI, iii, p. 402, ed. Dycc]. 
Douce : The * peascod * certainly means the whole of the pea as it hangs upon the 
stalk. It was formerly used as an ornament in dress, and was represented with the 
shell open exhibiting the peas. Skeat : Cod is a husk, shell, bag ; peas-cod^ i. e. pea- 
shell, husk of a pea. [Cf. * with leaues like unto the cich pease. It bearcth seed in 
certain cods,' Holland's Plinie^ 27th Book, p. 231. — Ed.] 

52. from whom] Knight: That is, from his mistress. He took from her two 
peascods, that is, two pods. Staunton : Touchstone surely means that he both took 
the cods from, and retimied them to, the peascod^ the representative of his mistress. 
In like manner he tells us, just before, he broke his sword upon a stone, and bid him, 
his imagined rival, * take that.* [Unquestionably Staunton is right. — Ed.] 



90 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act II, sc. iv. 



cods, and giuing her them againe, faid with weeping 
teares, weare thefe for my fake : wee that are true Lo- 
uers, runne into ftrange capers ; but as all is mortall in 
nature, fo is all nature in loue, mortall in folly. 

Rof. Thou fpeak'ft wifer then thou art ware of. 

Clo. Nay, I (hall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till 
I breake my (hins againft it. 

Rof. loue^ loue^ this Shepherds paflion, 



S3 



55 



60 



53. cods\ peas Ktly. 

55. as all"] all Rowe, Pope, Han. 

56. mortall in] mortal to Rowe i. 
58, 59. till...it'] One line, Coll. 



60. lone, loue] Love, Love I G)ll. 
(MS), ii, iii. 
60, 61. Prose, Pope+, Mai. 



53. cods] Johnson : For * cods ' it would be more like sense to read peasj which 
having the shape of pearls, resembled the common presents of lovers. Malone : In 
the following passage, however, Touchstone's present certainly signifies not the pea^ 
but the podf and so I believe the word is used here : ' He [Richard II] also used 2i peas- 
cod branch with the cods open, but the peas out, as it is upon his robe in his monument 
at Westminster,' — Camden's RemaineSy 1614. The cods and not the/^or were worn. 

53> 54« weeping teares] Capell : Here the Poet is wag enough to raise a smile at 
the expence of his friend the novelist ; who employs these words seriously in a some- 
thing that he calls a sonnet, without once seeing the ridicule of them. [See Rosa> 
der's Sonnet, beginning, ' In sorrowes cell,' &c.] Halliwell : This pleonastio 
expression is of so extremely common occurrence that there is no necessity for pre- 
suming it to have been suggested to Shakespeare by its introduction into Lodge's 
Novel. [Hereupon follow the titles of ten works wherein the expression is found.] 

56. mortall in folly] Johnson : This expression I do not well understand. In 
the middle counties, < mortal,' from mort, a great quantity, is used as a particle of 
amplification ; as mortal tally mortal little. Of this sense I believe Shakespeare takes 
advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, 
so is all nature in love abounding in folly. Caldecott : That is, extremely foolish. 
Dyce refers to Carr's Craven Glossary: *Mortaly Exceeding, very; "he's mortal 
rich," " I'se mortal \i\mgcy" * Staunton : As the commentators appear not to sus- 
pect corruption here, the passage probably contains a meaning we have failed to dis- 
cover. Schmidt : < Mortal ' is here equivalent to human, resembling man in folly. 
[These explanations of < mortal ' in this particular passage are all so mortal weak 
that I prefer to agree with Staunton that the meaning is yet to be discovered. If it 
were not for Rosalind's reply I should think that we were looking too deep. Yet 
Weiss's explanation (p. 113) is ingenious: ' That is. Nature can be foolish in love, 
but the folly is mortal, as all the things of Nature are, and will pass away, leaving 
love behind.' Therefore he'll have no jibes about it, and Rosalind justly replies, 
* Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of.' — Ed.] 

57) 5 S* ware . . . ware] It seems almost needless to point out that Rosalind means 
atuarey and Touchstone means cautious. — Ed. Singer : Perhaps Rosalind takes the 
Clown's equivoque seriously, and has in her mind that possession is the grave of love, 
which expires in its own folly. 

60, &c. Collier (ed. ii) here takes his text from his (MS) Corrector, who, he 



ACT II, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 91 

Is much vpon my fafliion. 61 

Clo. And mine, but it growes fomething dale with 
mee. 

Cel. I pray you, one of you queftion yonM man, 
If he for gold will giue vs any foode, 65 

I faint almofl to death. 

Clo. Holla; you Clowne. 

Rof, Peace foole, he's not thy kinfman. 

Car. ' Who cals ? 

C/o. Your betters Sir. 7^ 

Cor. Elfe are they very wretched. 

Ro/. Peace I fay ; good euen to your friend. 

Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all. 

Ro/. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold 
Can in this defert place buy entertainment, 75 

Bring vs where we may reft our felues,and feed : 
Here's a yong maid with trauaile much opprefled. 
And faints for fuccour. 78 

61. mucA vpon] too much on G>ll. 71. are they very\ they are Rowe l 
(MS), ii, iii. they are very Rowe ii + . they re very 

62, 63. it.,. mee] It grows something Han. 

stale with me^ And begins to fail with me 72. Peace] Peace, fool ^ Han. 

Coll. ii, iii. good... friend] One line, Qip 

64. yon'd] yond Rowe. yon Cap. Steev. Mai. Cald. Knt, Coll. 

70. Sir] Om. Han. your] you Ff et seq. 

says, ' must have had some foundation for the addition, unless it were a mere inven- 
tion ' ; Collier suggests that we have fragments here of an old ballad, wherein, as fai 
as lines 60, 61, and ' it grows something stale with me ' of the Folio is concemecb 
Dyce (ed. iii, p. 26) agrees with him. His text is as follows : 

^Ros. Love, Love ! this shepherd's passion 
Is too much on my fashion. 
Touch. And mine ; but 
It grows something stale with me, 
And begins to fail with me.' 

Ellis [Early Eng. Pronun.^ p. 949, ^) : Observe that the rhyme [passi-on, fashi-on] 
is here an identical one, on the final syllable -on, and that it is not a double rhyme, 
like the modem pash-un fash-un, as this would make each line defective by a meas- 
ure. PaS'Si'On, fash-i-on were really trisyllables. Allen (MS) ; The 'passion' of 
love is love conceived of as something like suffering, 

72. your] One of the many instances where, in the Folio, you and your are con- 
founded. See Walker, Crit. ii, 190. 

77, 78. Abbott, § 403 : Either who is is omitted, *■ Here's a young maid (who is) 
with travel much oppressed,' or the nominative (cf. § 399) is omitted before < faints.' 



92 AS VOLT LIKE IT [act ii. sc. iv. 

Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her, 
And wifh for her fake more then for mine owne, 80 

My fortunes were more able to releeue her : 
But I am (hepheard to another man. 
And do not fheere the Fleeces that I graze : 
My mafter is of churlifh difpofitiofi. 

And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen 85 

By doing deeds of hofpitalitie. 
Befides his Coate,his Flockes,and bounds of feede 
Are now on fale, and at our fheep-coat now 
By reafon of his abfence there is nothing 

That you will feed on : but what is, come fee, 90 

And in my voice moft welcome fhall you be. 

Rof. What is he that fhall buy his flocke and pafture? 

Cor. That yong Swaine that you faw heere but ere- 

while, 94 

82. Jhepheard^ a shepherd Rowe. 87. Coate'\ Cote Han. 

85. wreakes"] Ff, Rowe + ,Cald. recks 90, 91, 93. you\ ye Johns. 

Han. Johns, et cet. 

85. wreakes] Steevens: That is, heeds, cares for. So in Ham. I, iii, 51 : *And 
recks not his own rede.' [Perhaps from the spelling here, and in Ham., where it is 
reakes in the Qq and reaks in the Ff, we may, perhaps, infer that in pronunciation the 
sound of e was longer then than it is now. The assonance in Ophelia's speech would 
be thereby certainly more decided : * and reeks not his own reed.^ — Ed.] 

86. hospitalitie] Wordsworth (p. 218) : Flowing from a kindly and consider- 
ate disposition, the duty of hospitality is one which the Bible, we know, frequently 
enjoins and commends. See i Peter, iv, 9; Hebrews, xiii, 2; Romans, xii, 13. But 
there is a passage more solemn and impressive than any of these, spoken by our Lord 
Himself w^ith reference to the great day of account : * I was a stranger, and ye took 
me not in,* Matt., xxv, 43 ; which I cannot help thinking was present to our poet's 
mind when he made Corin [speak these words]. 

87. Coate] Wright: Cotgravehas: * Cayenne de bergter: a shepheards cote; a 
little cottage or cabine made of tiuiies, straw, boughes, or leaues.' 

87. bounds of feede] Caldecott : That is, range of pasture. 

91. voice] Johnson : That is, as far as I have a voice or vote, as far as I have 
power to bid you welcome. [* Fortinbras .... has my djring voice,* Ham. v, ii, 343.] 

92. What is he] For many other instances of the use of this phrase, see Abbott, 
$ 254, where there is the thoughtful remark that ' in the Elizabethan and earlier 
periods, when the distinction between ranks was much more marked than now, it 
may have seemed natiu-al to ask, as the first question about any one, " Of what condi- 
tion or rank is he ?" In that case the difference is one of thought, not of grammar.* 

92. shall] Abbott, § 315, paraphrases this by is to, and classes it with I, i, 126: 
* He that escapes me shall acquit him well.* It is difficult to distinguish these shades 
of meaning. To me the present 'shall' is not the same as Charles's 'shall.' Here, 
I think, it is simple friturity. — Ed. 



ACT II. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 93 

That little cares for buying any thing. 95 

Rof. I pray thee, if it ftand with honeflie, 
Buy thou the Cottage, pafture,and the flocke, 
And thou (halt haue to pay for it of vs. 

CeL And we will mend thy wages : 
I Hke this place, and willingly could lOO 

Wafte my time in it. 

Cor. Affu redly the thing is to be fold : 
Go with me, if you hke vpon report, 
The foile, the profit, and this kinde of life, 

I will your very faithfuU Feeder be, 105 

And buy it with your Gold right fodainly. Exeunt 

97. paflure\ and the pajiure F^F^. 100, loi. /... Wajle\ One line, Rowe 

99-101. Two lines, ending //ar^...//, ii + . 
Cap. et seq. 

96. honestie] In the wide range of meanings which this word bears, extending 
from chastity to generosity y the meaning which best suits the present context is, I 
think, honour^ that is, honourable dealing towards Silvius. — Ed. 

99, loi. Unquestionably, Capell's division is better than the Folio's, which in fact 
is not rhythmical at all. At the same time, an extra syllable in the third foot is 
objectionable ; * And we | will mend | thy wag/rj .* | I like | this place.' To be sure, 
if the line must be of five feet, we may make it a little smoother by reading wage. 
But the thought closes so completely with * wages ' that I would close the line with it, 
and put a full stop after it. Let the next two lines divide at * waste ' : * I like | this 
place, I and will | ingly | could waste || My time in it.' AH of which, ailer all, is 
merely scansion for the eye. An ear instinctively rhythmical decides such divisions 
for itself. — Ed. 

loi. Waste] That is, simply spends pass, as in Mer. of Ven. Ill, iv, 14: *G)m- 
panions That do converse and waste the time together.' See II, vii, i^i, post: * And 
we will nothing waste till you retiu-n.' 

105. Feeder] Dyce: A servant, a menial; as in Tim. II, ii, 168, *our offices 
.... oppressed With riotous feeders,' and in Ant. <5r* Cleop. Ill, xiii, 109: * By one 
that looks on feeders.' Walker {Crit. i, 311) : Qu. factor f Feed occurs thirteen 
and sixteen lines above. * \o\ix factor^ i. e. your agent in buying the farm. [Dyce 
(ed. iii) notes that Walker thus queries, and adds, 'wrongly, I believe.' Walker 
must have overlooked the instances of the use of * feeder ' cited by Dyce.] Neil : 
Perhaps the word ought to be Feodar or Fedary, male representative undertaking the 
suit and service required by the superior from those holding lands in feudal tenure 
under him. 

106. Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833) : How fortunate that the prettiest 
cottage in or about the Forest is on sale I No occasion for a conveyancer. There 
shall be no haggling about price, and it matters not whether or no there be any title- 
deeds. A simple business, as in Arcadia of old, is buying and selling in Arden. 
True that it is not term-day. But term-day is past, for mind ye not that it is mid- 
summer? 



/• 



94 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. t. 



Scena Quinta. 



Enter ^ Amy ens ^ laqueSy & others. 

Song. 
Vnder the greene wood tree, 

who loties to lye with mee^ 
And tume his merrie Note^ 5 

vnto the fweet Birds throte : 
Come hither^ come }uther^ come hither : 

He ere Jhall he fee no enemie^ 
But Winter and rough Weather. 

laq. More, more, I pre'thee more. lO 

Amy. It will make you melancholly Monfieur laques 
laq. I thanke it : More, I prethee more, 
I can fucke melancholly out of a fong, 13 

Scene changes to a desart Fart of the Coll. ii, iii, Dyce iii. turn F^F^ et cet 

Forest. Theob. ^ %. he] we Cap. (corrected in Errata). 

3. Vnder] Ami. Under Cap. et seq. Two lines, Pope et seq. 

greene zooodj greenwood F . green- 8, 9. Marked as a Chorus. Cap. 

hood F^, Rowe i. 10, 14. pre' thee"] prethee Ff. 

5. tume] F,. tune Rowe ii + , Cap. 12-14. Prose, Pope et seq. 

5. tume] Malonb in support of the change to tun* cites T\i)o Gent. V, iv, 5 : 
And to the nightingale's complaining note Tune my distresses/ &c. Steevens : The 
old copy may be right. To turn a tune or a note is still a current phrase among vul- 
gar musicians. Whiter corroborates Steevens : ' To turn a tune in counties of York 
and Durham is the appropriate and familiar phrase for' [correct singing]. Singer : 
That < turn ' is right appears from the following line in Hall's Satires^ Bk. vi, s. i [p. 
157, ed. Singer] : < Whiles threadbare Martiall turns his merry note.' Collier (ed. 
ii) : It is altered to tune in the (MS). It is misprinted turn in Hall's SeUires. Dycb 
(Strictures^ &c., p. 69) : There is no reason to suspect a misprint in the line from 
Hall's Satire, [Dyce, however, changed his opinion when he printed his third 
edition ; he there says that turns in this line from Hall] ' is manifestly an error for 
tunes; so again in 7^ Two Gent, IV, ii, 25, the Second Folio makes Thurio say to 
the Musicians : « Let's tume^* &c. To " turn a note " means only to ** change a 
note"; compare Locrine^ 1595 : <<when he sees that needs he must be prest, Heele 
tume his note and sing another tune." ' Wright, after quoting this last note of 
Dyce's, adds : Even granting this, there appears to be no absolute necessity for change 
in the present passage, for < turn his merry note ' may mean adapt or modulate his 
note to the sweet bird's song, following its changes. 

7. Come] Fnnn the references in the Index to Abbott, it is to be inferred that this 
* come ' is considered by him as a subjunctive used optatively or imperatively. 



ACT n, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 95 

As a Weazel fuckes egges : More, I pre'thee more. 

Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot pleafe 15 

you. 

laq. I do not defire you to pleafe me, 
I do defire you to fmg : 
Come, more, another ftanzo : Cal you'em ftanzo's ? 

Amy, What you wil Monfieur laqtus. 20 

laq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee 
nothing. Wil you fmg ? 

Amy, More at your requeft, then to pleafe my felfe. 

laq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, He thanke 
you : but that they cal complement is like th'encounter 25 

of two dog- Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily, 

15. ragged'\ rugged Rowe + , Cap. 19. Jtanzo . . .Jianzo^s] Ff, Rowe + , 

17, 19. Prose, Pope et seq. Cam. Wh. ii, Huds. stanza.,. stawuu 

19. Qmtff more] Come, come Rowe + . Cap. (conj.) el cet. 

^em\ them Mai. 25. complement'] compliment Pope. 

compliments Theob. "Warb. Johns. 

15. ragged] Malone: That is, broken and unequal. [For a dozen other instances 
In Shakespeare where ' ragged ' is thus used, see Schmidt, s. v. 3.] 

19. stanzo] In Sherwood's English and French Dictionaries appended to Cot- 
grave, 1632, we find, <A stanzo (staffe of verses) Stance. A stanzo (of eight verses) 
Octastique* On turning to Cotgrave, under Stance we find, among other meaningg. 
also, a staazo, or stafife of verses.* In the only other place where Shakespeare use« 
the word. Love's Lab. L. IV, ii, 99, it is printed, according to the Cam. Ed., stanse 
FjQ,, stanza F,F^F^, and stauze Q, (of course a misprint for stanze). Jaques was 
I4>parently a little doubtful as to the correctness of the term, which I think he used 
in the sense of the second definition given by Sherwood. If we divide ' Heere shall 
he see no enemie ' into two verses, as every editor has divided it since Pope, the 
song will be an Octastique^ which Cotgrave again defines, ' Octostique : A staffe, or 
Stanzo of eight verses.' — Ed. 

21. names] Used in a classical, legal sense. Caldecott finds the allusion to the 
Latin phrase, nomina facere^ which we all know means to *■ set down, or book the 
items of debt in the account-book,' as the definition reads in Andrews's Lexicon, 
But it seems to me that it is simpler to suppose that Jaques refers merely, as he says, 
to 'the names,* for which the Latin is plain nomina. In Cooper's Thesaurus^ I573f 
the Dictionary which Shakespeare probably used (we are told that Queen Elizabeth 
used it), the second definition of nomina is ' the names of debtes owen.' Here, it is 
possible, Shakespeare may have found the allusion which Jaques makes. — Ed. 

25. that] For the omission of the relative, see Abbott, § 244, or Shakespeare passim, 

26. dog- Apes] Douce (i, 298) : Bartholomxus, speaking of apes, says : < Some 
be called cenophe ; and be lyke to an hounde in the face, and in the body lyke to an 
ape.* — Lib. xviii, c. 96. Wright : Topsell {^History of Beasts^ p. 8) says : * Cyno- 
oephales are a kind of Apes, whose heades are like Dogs, and their other parts like 



96 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. v. 

me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me 27 

the beggerly thankes. Come fmg ; and you that wil not 
hold your tongues. 

Amy, Wei, He end the fong. Sirs, couer the while, 30 

the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this 
day to looke you. 

laq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him : 
He is too difputeable for my companie : 

I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue 35 

Heauen thankes, and make no boaft of them. 
Come, warble, come. 

Song. Altogether heere. 

Who doth ambition JItunne y 

and hues to Hue Vth Sunne: 40 

28. not'\noi,Yi. 38. Altogether heere] Om. Rowe + , 

31. drinke] dine Rowe + , Cap. 

33-37- Prose, Pope et seq. 40. Hue] live F,F^. lye F^, Rowe + . 
34. difputeable] di/putable F^. 

28. beggerly] That is, beggar-like. The thanks are neither paltry nor mean ; but 
the reverse. — Ed. 

30. couer] Staunton: That is, prepare the table; equivalent to our May the 
cloth * ; compare Mer. of Ven. Ill, v, 55. 

31. drinke] Capell (p. 58) : The modems have dine instead of * drink,' but bid- 
ding the attendants * cover' was telling them the Duke intended to dine there; 
' drink ' tells them something more, that he meant to pass his afternoon there, under 
the shade of that tree. 

32. looke you] Dyce (ed. iii) : I may notice that this is equivalent to * look for 
you.' Compare Merry Wives ^ IV, ii, 83 : * Mistress Page and I will look some linen 
for your head.' [For many other instances of this omission, see Abbott, § 200.] 

34. disputeable] Malone: That is, disputatious. Walker has a chapter (No. 
xxix, Crit. i, 183) on examples of adjectives in -able and -ible^ both positive and 
negative ones, which are frequently used by old writers in an active sense. Sec also, 
Abbott, § 3. 

38. Altogether heere] It is almost needless to remark that this is a stage direc- 
tion ; and the stage direction of a play-house copy. Some of the early editors, even 
Capell, omit it altogether here. See Roffe, in Appendix, * Music,' p. 434. 

40. liue] Tollet : To * live i' th' sun,' is to labour and * sweat in the eye of 
Phoebus,* or Tjitam agere sub dio; for by lying in the sun, how could they get the food 
they eat ? Capell (p. 58) : To lye i* the sun is a phrase importing absolute idleness, 
the idleness of a motley (see post, II, vii, 17), but Mive i' the sim' imports only a 
living in freedom ; a flying from courts and cities, the haunts of * ambition,' to enjoy 
the free blessings of heaven in such a place as the singer himself was retir'd to ; 
whose panegyrick upon this sort of life is converted into a satire by Jaques, in a very 
excellent parody that follows a few lines after. Caldecott : Othello refers to his 



ACT II, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 97 

Seeking the food he eates^ 41 

and plea^d with what he gets : 
Come hither^ come hither ^come hitfiery 

Heere Jhall he/ee.&c. 

laq. He giue you a verfe to this note, 45 

That I made yefterday in defpight of my Inuention. 
Amy. And He fing it. 
Amy. Thus it goes. 

If it do come to pajfe^ thai any man tume AJJe : 

Leaning his wealth and eafe^ 50 

A Jlubbome will to pleafe^ 

Ducdame , ducdame , ducdame : 52 

44. Heere] Cho. Here Gip. 48. Amy.] laq. Ff et seq. 
he] you Rowe. 49. Two lines, F^F^ ct seq. 

&c.] no enemy, But Winter and 52, 55. Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame 

rough Weather. F^F^ et seq. ,„Ducdame\ Due ad me^ Due ad me, 

45. 46. Prose, Pope et seq. Due ad me.,. Due ad me Han. Wh. Mai. 

* unhoused, free condition.' White (ed. i) : To * live i* the sun * was to live a profit- 
less life. Wright : A life of open-air freedom, which, as opposed to the life of the 
ambitious man, is also one of retirement and neglect. Hamlet seems to have had this 
in his mind when he said (I, ii, 67) :< I am too much i' the sun * ; and Beatrice in 
Much Ado, II, i, 331 : ' Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sxm-bumt,' 
that is, exposed and neglected, like the bride in Canticles, \, 6. See also TVo. &* 
Cress. I, iii, 282. 

46. Inuention] Moberly : As imagination would do nothing for me, I spited it 
by the following choice composition. 

52. Ducdame] Johnson : Hanmer, very acutely and judiciously, reads due ad 
me, that is, bring him to me. Capell (p. 58) : The words * G>me hither ' are LAtin* 
iz'd by the composer; but not strictly, for then his word had been Hucdame; and the 
Latin words crouded \sic'\ together into a strange single word of three syllables, 
purely to set his hearer a staring ; whom he bambouzles still further, by telling him, 
< 'tis a Greek invocation.' The himiour is destroyed, in great measure, by decom- 
poxmding and setting them right, and giving us due ad me separately. Farmer : If 
due ad me were right, Amiens would not have asked its meaning, and been put off 
with a * Greek invocation.^ It is evidently a word coined for the nonce. We have 
here, as Butler says, ' One for sense, and one for rhyme* Indeed, we must have a 
double rhyme, or this stanza cannot well be sung to the same tune with the former. I 
read ^Ducdamt, Ducdami, Ducdam^, Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An' if he 
will come to Ami.* That is, to Amiens. Jaques did not mean to ridicule himselt 
Steevens : That Amiens, who is a courtier, should not xmderstand Latin, or be per- 
suaded it was Greek, is no great matter for wonder. ' In confirmation of the old read- 
ing, however, Dr Farmer observes to me, that, being at a house not far from Cam- 
bridge, when news was brought that the hen-roost was robbed, a facetious old squire 
who was present immediately sung the following stanza, which has an odd coincidence 
7 



98 AS VOC/ LIKE IT [act ii, sc. v. 

[Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame] 
with the ditty of Jaques : < Damky what makes your ducka to die ? Duck^ duck, duck. 
— Danit, what makes your chicks to cry ? Chuck, chuck, chuck.' < Ducdkme ' is a 
trisyllable. Whiter tells us he was ' favoured* with one or two more stanzas of the 
same song which Dr Farmer thinks sheds so much light on this passage, and Whiter, 
in turn, < favours ' us with them, though it is not easy to see how Shakespearian criti- 
cism is advanced by learning that the cause of the ducks' death was ' eating o' Polly- 
wigs,' howsoever valuable the fact may be therapeutically. Be this, however, as it 
may, the stanzas seem to have imparted aid to Whiter, who says : ' In the foregoing 
stanzas it is of no consequence, either as to the sense or the metre, whether '* Dame " 
be read in its usual way or whether we pronounce it Dam^, with the accent on the 
last syllable. They are all, however, manifestly addressed to the Dame, the good 
housewife of the family, xmder whose care we may suppose the poultry to be placed ; 
and it may be observed that the Ducks are particularly specified on accoimt of the 
alliteration with Dame. I therefore see no difficulty in the derivation of the word 
« Ducdame," which has so much embarrassed our conmientators. What is more 
natural or obvious than to suppose Due Dame or Dtu Dami to be the usual cry of 
the Dame to gather her Ducks about her ; as if she should say, " Ducks, come to 
your Dame," or " Ducks, come to your Damfc." .... The explication here given of 
this passage is the only one which at all properly corresponds with the context.' In 
justice to Whiter it must be said that he appears conscious of the ridiculousness of 
such shallow profundity by the final remark : < If Shakespeare is to be explained, 
neither the writer nor the reader should become fastidious at the serious discussion of 
such trifling topics.' Knight : It was not in the character of Jaques to talk Latin in 
this place. He was parodying the < Come hither ' of the previous song. The con- 
jecture, therefore, that he was using some country call of a woman to her ducks 
appears much more rational than his Latinity. Collier: Hanmer's alteration is 
probably right ; but due ad me being harsh, when sung to the same notes as its trans* 
lation < Come hither,' it was corrupted to duc-da-me, a trisyllable, which ran more 
easily. Farmer observed that ' if due ad me were right, Amiens would not have 
asked its meaning.' Why not, if Amiens be supposed not to understand Latin? 
When Jaques declares it to be ' a Greek invocation,' he seems to intend to jeer Amiens 
upon his ignorance. [Collier adds, in his second edition] : We may conclude, with 
tolerable certainty, that it was the burden of some old song, although none has been 
pointed out that precisely agrees with * ducdame ' or due ad me. Halliwell (5!^. 
Soe. Papers, 1^44) ^ol. i, p. 109) : Hanmer's change is forced and unnecessary, I 
admit, but not quite so absurd as to suppose Jaques was using some country call of a 

woman to her ducks I have recently met with a passage in an uncollated MS 

of the Vision of Piers Plowman in the Bodleian Library, which goes far to prove 
that Duedami is the burden of an old song, an explanation which exactly agrees with 
its position in the song of Jaques. The passage is as follows : < Thanne set ther some, 
And sunge at the ale. And helpen to erye that half akre With Dusadam-me-me.^'^ 
MS Pawl. Poet, 137, f. 6. To show that this is evidently intended for the burden 
of a song, we need only compare it with the corresponding passage in the printed 
edition : 'And holpen ere this half acre With How, trolly lolly. ^-^Piers Ploughman, 
ed. Wright, p. 124. Making allowances for the two centuries which elapsed between 
the appearance oi Piers Ploughman and As You Like It, is there too great a difference 
between Dusadam-me-me and Duc-da-me to warrant my belief that the latter is a 
legitimate descendant of the more ancient refrain ? At all events, it must be borne 



ACT II, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 99 

[Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame] 
in mind that the commentatora have not produced any old word equally near it in 
their dissertations on its meaning. This word may also possibly be intended by 
Dnue! dmee ! dmee ! in Amim's Nest of Ninnies {Sh, Soc. Reprint), p. 32. Mr 
Collier, however, thinks it * most likely an abbreviation of Dear me P [With a few 
verbal alterations Halliwell repeated this in his edition.] Staunton : After all that 
has been written in elucidation of * ducdame,' we are disposed to believe the < invo- 
cation,' like the Qown's : * Fond done, done fond ' in All's Welly is mere unmeaning 
babble coined for the occasion. Dyce : The attempts made to explain this * burden ' 
are, I think, alike imsatisfactory. A. A. {Notes dr* Qu. 2d S., viii, Oct. 8, '59) : Is 
it not literally as written due dd m^, ' lead him from me ' ? Amiens has been describe 
ing the generous soul ' who does ambition shun,' and welcomes him with a < Come 
hither.' Jaqnes describes the opposite chsuracter, and goes on with his parody ' keep 
him from me,' instead of ' come hither.' Da is the Italian preposition from, answer- 
ing to the Latin a, ab, ahs. Tregeagle {^Ibid. 5th S., x, July 20^ '78) : It seems not 
improbable that this word may be intended to represent the twang of a guitar. [In 
Notes and Qu. 5th S. ix, June 29, '78, Dr Mackay has a note which was afterwards 
sul)stantially repeated and enlarged in his Glossary of Obscure Words, &c., 1S87. 
From the latter I extract the following :] Amiens, puzzled by the phrase, asks Jaques 
what it means. Jaques replies, ' 'Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle.' 
By * Greek ' he appears to have meant Pedlar's Greek, the popular name for the cant 
language of the beggars and gypsies of his day, which is not wholly disused in our 
own. .... No one has discovered or even hinted at the ' circle ' to which Jaques 
alludes. Perhaps the old game of Tom Tidler's Groimd may throw some light on 
the matter. [After stating that Brewer in his Dictionary of Phrase and Fable main- 
tains < Tom Tidier ' to be a corruption of Tom th* Idler, Dr Mackay continues :] This 
derivation has hitherto passed muster ; but the true derivation is from the Keltic, and 
proves the game to have been known to British children before the Saxon and Dan- 
ish irruptions and conquest Tom signifies ' hill ' or mound, a word that enters into 
the composition of the names of many places in the British Isles ; and tiodlach, gift, 
offering, treasure; so that Tom-tiodlach, corrupted by the Danes and Saxons into 
Tom-tidier, signifies the hill of gifts or treasure, of which the players seek to hold or 
to regain possession. It was the custom for the boy who temporarily held the hill or 
tom to assert that the ground belonged to him of right, and dare the invaders to dis- 
possess him by the exclamation of ^Duc da mk.^ This phrase has puzzled commenta- 
tors quite as much as the name ' Tom Tidier ' has done. The phrase, however, 
resolves itself into the Gaelic dutkaich (the / silent before the aspirate, pronoxmced 
duAaic), signifying a country, an estate, a territory, a piece of land; da or do signify- 
ing to, and mi, me — i . e. this territory or ground is to me, or belongs to me ; it is my 
land or estate. This old British phrase continued to be used in England by children 
and illiterate people long after the British language had given way to the Saxon Eng- 
lish, and was repeated by boys and girls in the game now called ' Tom Tidler's 
Ground ' so lately as forty years ago, when I heard it used myself by children on the 

Links of Leith and the Inches of my native city of Perth A correspondent of 

the Pall Mall Gazette, signing himself < Welshman,' says, ' Qearly, the critics are at 
fault in their endeavour to give a reasonable rendering to <* ducdam^." Admittedly, 

it bad its origin in a prehistoric game Whether Shakespeare knew it to l)e good 

Welsh or not is little to the purpose. However, there is no doubt he did In 

point of fact Jacques was but verbally repeating the selfsame invitation which .... 






100 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. v. 

Heere Jhall he fee ^grojfe fooles as he^ 53 

And if he will came to me. 
Amy. What^s that Ducdame ? 55 

laq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a cir- 
cle. He go fleepe if I can : if I cannot; He raile againfl all 
the firft borne of Egypt 58 

53. Two lines, Pope et seq. 54. me] Ami. Fanner, Stcev. 

54. And] An Cap. 56. inuo€aH(m\ invocarion F^. 

had been twice given in the vernacular, *' G}me hither." .... For the " Greek " ren- 
dering which accompanied it was good, honest Welsh, as nearly as the Saxon tongue 
could frame it. Its exact Cambrian equivalent is Dewch da mi, ** Come with (or to) 
me." It is jargon no longer. In early times the Sassenach, no doubt, often heard 
this " Challenge " (" Come, if you dare I") shouted to him by the Kymri from the 
hilltop or the embattled crag. Hence it was perpetuated in the mimic warfare of 
their children's game.' * The Kymric derivation,' adds Dr Mackay, < is ingenious, but 
does not meet the case so clearly and completely as the Gaelic' In JV^p/ts 6r* Qu., 
5th S., 5 Oct '78, V. S. Lean suggests Duct-hmi; ami being the abbreviation for 
Amiens as well as French for friend. [The phrase having been thus proved, satisfac< 
torily to the provers, to be not only Latin, but Italian, and French, and Gaelic, and 
Welsh, and Greek (surely Jaques ought to know), and a < twang,' we are prepared for 
the sensible and conclusive note which I have reserved for the last.] Wright : It is 
in vain that any meaning is sought for in this jargon, as Jaques only intended to fill 
up a line with sounds that have no sense. There is a bit of similar nonsense in Cot- 
grave, s. V. Orgues : * Dire d'orgues, vous dites d'orgues. You say blew ; how say 
you to that; wisely brother Timothie ; true Roger; did am did am.' .... Mr Ainger 
has suggested to me that we should read : ^Ducd(/mf, Ducdi/me^ Ducd</me^ to rhyme 
with 'An W he wilK come to^ me.' 

56. to call fools into a circle] for the purpose of etymologically and linguistic- 
ally investigating the meaning of ' Ducdame,' says Moberly, dryly. 

58. first borne of Egypt] Grey (i, 174) : Alluding to Exodus^ xi, 5. Johnson: 
A proverbial expression for highborn persons. Nares: Perhaps Jaques is only 
intended to say that if he cannot sleep, he will, like other discontented persons, rail 
against his betters. Wordsworth (p. 70) : One feels somewhat at a loss to deter- 
mine whether of the two pieces of criticism [Grey's and Johnson's], though very dif- 
ferent in kind, is the less satisfactory. The play in which this passage occurs turns 
upon two incidents, in both of which an eldest brother is mainly concerned, in the one 
as suffering, in the other as doing, injury. And the reflection, therefore, naturally 
presents itself to the moralising Jaques, that to be a first-born son is a piece of good 
fortune not to be coveted now, any more than it was in the days of Pharaoh, when all 
the first bom of Egypt were cut off, but rather to be * railed at' In Act I, Sc. i, 
Orlando says to Oliver, ' The courtesy of nations allows you my better in that you are 
iht first bom* If it be objected that Jaques was not yet aware of what had hap- 
pened to Orlando, still, I think, the poet might have put the sentiment into the mouth 
of such an one as Jaques, to be as a kind of waking dream, half experimental in 
regard to what he already knew, half prophetical of what he would soon discover ; 
but, at all events, the reference to * the old Duke,' wVo had been * banished by his 



ACT II, sc. vi.] AS YOU UKE IT loi 

Amy. And He go feeke the Duke, 
His banket is prepared. Exeunt 60 



Scena Sexta. 



Enter Orlando^ & Adam. 

Adam. Deere Mailer, I can go no further : 
O I die for food. Heere lie I downe. 
And meafure out my graue. Farwel kinde mafter. 

d?r/.Why how now Adam} No greater heart in thee: 5 

Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy felfe a little. 

I-21. Ftose, Pope et seq. 6. com/ort'] comfort thee Anon. conj. 

(ap. Cam. £d.). 

younger brother, the new Duke,' will hold good. And he * rails at ' him, not only as 
showing sympathy, after his quaint manner, with the old Duke's banishment, but as 
reflecting upon his own folly in becoming yoluntarily a partaker of the banishment, 
and thereby forfeiting all his 'lands and revenues' to the usurper; as he had sung 
just before in the yerse, which (he says), < I made yesterday in despite of my inven- 
tion ' : ' That any man turn ass Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please^ 
Here shall he see. Gross fools as he. An if he will come to nu* 

60. banket] Gifford (Massinger's City Madam^ II, i, p. 29) : A ' banquet ' 
was what we now call a dessert; it was composed of fruit, sweetmeats, &c., ' Your 
citizen is a most fierce devourer, sir, of plumbs ; six will destroy as many as might 
make A banquet for an army.' — The Wits. The banquet was usually placed in a sepa- 
rate room, to which the guests removed as soon as they had dined ; thus, in The 
Unnalural Combat^ Beaufort says (III, i) : < We'll dine in the great room, but let the 
musick And banquet be prepared here.' The common place of banqueting, or of eat- 
ing the dessert, among our ancestors was the garden-house, or arbour, with which 
almost every dwelling was once furnished ; to this Shallow alludes in 2 Hen, IV: V, 
iii, 2. [Sec Rom, 6r* Jul, I, v, 120. Dyce refers to Tam, the Shr. V, ii, 9: *My 
banquet is to close our stomachs up After our great good cheer.'] 

2, 3. Walker {Crit. i, 18) divides these lines, which, he says, 'the Folio prints as 
verse in a scrambling sort of way,' at ' O,' and reads : ' I die, I die for food. Here 
lie I down.' [Walker has a chapter {Crit, ii, 141) on the 'Omission of Repeated 
Words.'] Dyce (ed. iii) quotes Walker, and adds : But the speech which imme- 
diately follows this, and which is stark prose, is so printed in the Folio as to look 
like verse. [See note, line 21.] 

4. grave] Steevens: So in Rom. 6;* Jul. Ill, iii, 70: 'fall upon the ground, 
.... Taking the measure of an unmade grave.' 

6. comfort] Wright : We must either take ' comfort ' as equivalent to ' be com- 
forted ' or ' have comfort,' or else regard ' thyself as the object to ' comfort ' as well 
as ' cheer.' Alxan (MS) : I suppose ' comfort ' may be used absolute, just as ' cheer 



loa AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. vi. 

If this vncouth Forreft yeeld any thing fauage^ 7 

I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee : 

Thy conccite is neerer death, then thy powers. 

For my fake be comfortable, hold death a while lO 

At the armes end : I wil heere be with thee prefently, 

And if I bring thee not fomething to eate, 

I wil giue thee leaue to die : but if thou died 

Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor. 

Wei faid, thou look'ft cheerely, 15 

And He be with thee quickly : yet thou lieft 

In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee 

To fome fhelter,and thou (halt not die 

For lacke of a dinner, 

If there Hue any thing in this Defert 20 

Cheerely good Adam. Exeunt 

II. ktert it] it ktre Rowe+, Cap. Vur. Odd. Sing. Sbu Kdj. 
Mai. I>]rce iii, Hods. 15. dUertfy] dkeerify Reed, Var. 

13. / wii] ru Pope4^, MaL SteeT. 'ai. 

up * is. It is, boweTer, in finvow of die anoDymoos emendation, < ocmibit tbee ' (Cam. 
Ed.), that the tktt may have been proooimced like tee {mmre £h*rmco^ as Walkersajs), 
and then die second / was drop! in pronunciation, as in * aU bat mariners,' Tem^ I, 
U, aia 

4^ cooceite] Dycb : Conception, thoo^it, imagination, fimcj. 

la b« coKifortnblt] Caldbooit: Thtk is, be oomibrted, become sosoeptible of 
comnit. 

It. lM«f« b«] Let Walker's chapter on the Dram^mitimt tf Wtnk {GriL n, 246) 
widi its king list of examples be rend and pondered, and after dial there will be no 
heckation, I think, in deciding dial we have an imstancr of transposkkm here. See 
Text. Notes.— £ix 

II. pf fen t^y] Abmtt, $ 59: Eq^sdvak^ to aT Mr /noMf Ham^dtmut^wHaatii 
«( as now, *soon, bait mti at once.* 

\%. W^Mid] Colusr: This was often xatAkK^WtX dtme: WHm(ed.i): 
BatOriandoseemstoiefartowh^hehiBBSidf hassaid. [C£ 0^1.11,1,192.] 

SI. The last hae of dtts Sccm b, in &e Folio, &e last line of the page, aarf I 
fferai^svipectthgtthedinaonmioYcne of wh^ Dipce calb <«aik pnne,*isdne 
SH^p^Tto &e eAft of the Cffwsl^as to sprend oait the fines m order to mead the 
nec<«ri^ of hanag Ae he ading of n Scene at &e foot of &e page, that s^ te 
iag^S^vMi S(^M)MM mcK^ with, pedttps not n fine of 



ACT II. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 103 



Scetia SepHma. 



Enter Duke Sen.& Lordy like Out-lawes. 

Du. Sen. I thinke he be transformM into a bead, 
For I can no where finde him, like a man. 

I .Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence, 
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song. 5 

Du. Sen. If he compa6l of iarres, grow Muficall, 
We (hall haue fliortly difcord in the Spheares : 
Go feeke him, tell him I would fpeake with him. 

Enter laques. 
I. Lard. He faues my labor by his owne approach. 10 

Du. Sen. Why how now Monfieur, what a life is this 
That your poore friends muft woe your companie, 
What, you looke merrily. 13 

1. Out-Iawes] out-Iawes Ff. 9. Enter...] After line 10, Dyce, Sta. 
A table set out Rowe. 13. lVhat^'\ And cannot have V/ 

2. be\ is Pope + . IFka/y Cap. 

2. think he be] See Abbott, § 299, for instances of * be ' used after yerbs of think- 
ing. The standard example, to which all others might be referred, is that mnemonic 
line : ' I think my wife de honest, and thinh she is not,' 0/h. Ill, iii, 443. — Ed. 

4. euen now] Abbott, § 38 : *£ven now ' with us is applied to an action that has 
been going on for some time and stU/ continues, the emphasis being laid on ' now.' 
In Shakespeare the emphasis is often to be laid on ' even,' and ' rven now ' means 
' exactly or only now,' i . e. * scarcely longer ago than the present' 

5. hearing of] See II, iv, 45 or Abbott, § 178. 

6. compact] Steevens: That is, made up of discords. Dyce: Compacted, 
composed. 

7. Spheares] See Mer. of Ven. V, i, 74 and notes in this edition, where the music 
of the spheres is discussed. Wright : Compare Batman vppon Bartholome (ed. 
1582), fol. 123, b : 'And so Macrobius saith : in putting & mouing of the roundnesse 
of heauen, is that noyse made, and tempereth sharpe noyse with lowe noyse, and 
maketh diuers accordes and melodie : but for the default of our hearing, and also for 
passing measure of that noyse and melodie, this harmony and accord is not heard of ▼&.' 

13. The comma at the close of the preceding line led Capell to suppose that the 
sentence was not complete ; he thereupon supplied the omission (see Textual Notes), 
and thus justified the additiom in his notes : < Which circumstance [the comma after 
'company'] alone indicates an omission; but it further appears from the sense, if a 
little attended to : For what great crime is it, that Jaques must be woo^d for his com- 
pany ? but that he makes his friends woo it, and won't let them have it after all, is an 
accusation of some weight The words now inserted carry this charge.' 



I04 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. viu 

laq. A Foole, a foole : I met a foole i'th Forreft, 
A motley Foole (a miferable world :) 15 

14. /ooie J 'M] /o/ Vth F^. 15. warld'\ varUt Han. Warb. 

15. A motley Foole] Douce (ii, 317): The costume of the domestic fool m 
Shakespeare's time was of two sorts. In the first of these the coat was motley or 
parti-coloured, and attached to the body by a girdle, with bells at the skirts and 
elbows, though not always. The breeches and hose close, and sometimes each leg 
of a different colour. A hood resembling a monk's cowl, which, at a very early 
period, it was certainly designed to imitate, covered the head entirely, and fell down 
over part of the breast and shoulders. It was sometimes decorated with asses' ears, 
or else terminated in the neck and head of a cock, a fashion as old as the fourteenth 
century. It often had the comb or crest only of the animal, whence the term cocks- 
comb or coxcomb was afterwards used to denote any silly upstart This fool usually 
carried in his hand an official sceptre or bauble, which was a short stick ornamented 
at the end with the figure of a fool's head, or sometimes with that of a doll or puppet. 
To this instrument there was frequently annexed an inflated skin or bladder, with 
which the fool belaboured those who offended him or with whom he was inclined to 

make sport ; this was often used by itself, in lieu, as it would seem, of a bauble 

It was not always filled with air, but occasionally with sand or pease In some 

old prints the fool is represented with a sort of flapper or rattle ornamented with bells. 
It seems to have been constructed of two round and fiat pieces of wood or paste- 
board, and is, no doubt, a vestige of the crotalum used by the Roman mimes or 
dancers. This instrument was used for the same purpose as the bladder, and occa- 
sionally for correcting the fool himself whenever he behaved with too much licen- 
tiousness In some old plays the fool's dagger is mentioned, perhaps the same 

instrument as was carried by the Vice or buffoon of the Moralities ; and it may be as 
well to observe in this place that the domestic fool is sometimes, though it is presumed 
improperly, called the Vice. The dagger of the latter was made of a thin piece of 
lath, and the use he generally made of it was to belabour the Devil. It appears that 
in Queen Elizabeth's time the Archbishop of Canterbury's fool had a wooden dagger 

and a coxcomb The other dress, and which seems to have been more common 

in Shakespeare's time, was the long petticoat. This originally appertained to the 
idiot or natural fool, and was obviously adopted for the purpose of cleanliness. Why 
it came to be used for the allowed fool is not so apparent. It was, like the first, of 
various colotus, the materials often costly, as of velvet, and guarded or fringed with 
yellow. A manuscript note in the time of the G)mmonwealth states yellow to have 
been tht/ooPs colour. This petticoat dress continued to a late period, and has been 
seen not many years since in some of the interludes exhibited in Wales. But the 
above were by no means the only modes in which the domestic fools were habited. 
The hood was not always surmounted with the cockscomb, in lien of which a single 
bell, and occasionally more, appeared. Sometimes a feather was added to the comb. 
.... A large purse or wallet at the girdle is a very ancient part of the fool's dresflu 
Tarlton, who personated the clowns in Shakespeare's time, appears to have worn it. 
.... We may suppose that the same variety of dress was observed on the stage which 
we know to have actually prevailed in common life. 

15. world] Warburton: What, because he met a motley fod^ was it therefore a 
miserable world f This is sadly blundered; we should read *a miserable varUt* 



ACT 11, sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 105 

As I do Hue by foode, I met a foole, 16 

Who laid him downe, and baskM him in the Sun, 

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes, 

In good fet termes, and yet a motley foole. 

Good morrow foole (quoth I :) no Sir, quoth he, 20 

Call me not foole, till heauen hath fent me fortune, 

And then he drew a diall from his poake, 22 

His head is altogether running on this fool, both before and after these words, and 
here he calls him a miserable variety notwithstanding he *■ railed on Lady Fortune in 
good terms/ &c. Johnson : I see no need of changing * world ' to variety nor, if a 
change were necessary, can I guess how it should certainly be known that varUt is 
the true word. 'A miserable world * is a parenthetical exclamation, frequent among 
melancholy men, and natural to Jaques at the sight of a fool, or at the hearing of 
reflections on the fragility of life. Capell : [It was a miserable world] in the esti- 
mation of Jaques and others equally cynical, who disrelish the world ; arraigning the 
dispensations of Providence in a number of articles, and in this chieBy — that it has 
created such beings as fools. Hunter (i, 347) acknowledges that there is no real 
need of disturbing the text, and that the meaning, as given by Capell, is not unam- 
biguous, but, he continues, ' if this be not thought a satisfactory explanation of the 
passage, there is a word which would suit it so well if substituted for *' world,'* and 
which might so easily become changed into " world *' that I cannot but think that it 

may have been what Shakespeare wrote The word is art, **A motley fool ! a 

miserable ortr* "Ort,** says Tooke, "means anything vile or worthless"; but it 
seems to contain the idea of remnant or fragment. Shakespeare uses it thus in Tro, 
6r* Cres. V, ii, 158, and in Timan^ IV, iii, 400. Fragments of victuals were oris; so 
that the word may have led to the idea which next entered the mind of the poet : "As 
I do live by food^ I met a fool," and in the course of what he says of him he still 
keeps to the idea which the word ort would naturally introduce, and speaks of the 
clown's brains as " being dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage," which was 
eminently an ort.* [Whenever we wish to think of the excellent Hunter at his best, 
let us wipe from our memory every vestige of an ort of this emendation. — Ed.] Cow- 
DEN-Clarke : A parenthetical exclamation, whereby Jaques for the moment laughs 
at his own melancholy view of the world, having just heard it echoed by a profes- 
sional jester. Moreover, he seems to exclaim, ' This a miserable world ! No, it con- 
tains a fool and food for laughter.' 

21. fortune] Reed: Fortuna favet fatuis is, as Upton observes, the sa3ring here 
alluded to, or, as in Publius Syrus : Fortuna^ nimium qaem/ovei, stuUumfacit, So 
hi the Prologue to The Alchemist : * Fortune, that favours fooles, these two short hotus 
We wish away.' Again, m Every Man Out of his Humour^ I, i [p. 38, ed. Gifford] : 
*Sogliardo, Why, who am I, sir? Macilente. One of those that fortune favours. 
Carlo, \A5ide'\ The periphrasis of a fool.* Halliwell : * Fortune favours fools, or 
fools have the best luck.' — Ray's Proverbs. Moberly : The proverb, Coleridge wit- 
tily and wisely suggests, has something the same meaning as Sterne's saying, ' God 
tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.' Weiss (p. 115) : Thus, indeed, like the wise 
men, Touchstone will have a social chance to show, as they do, what his folly is. 

22. diall] Knight : < There's no clock in the forest,' says Orlando, and it was not 
▼ery likely that the Fool would have a pocket clock. What, then, was the ' dial ' that 



in 



io6 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. vu. 

And looking on it, with lacke-luftre eye, 23 

Sayes, very wifely, it is ten a clocke : 

Thus we may fee (quoth he) how the world wagges : 25 

'Tis but an houre agoe, fmce it was nine. 

And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen. 

And fo from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe, 28 

27. one^ an Var. '03 (misprint ?) Var. 27. eleuen\ a eleven Cap. (corrected i; 
'13, Harness. Errata). 

he took from his poke ? We have lately become possessed with a rude instrument. 
.... It is a brass circle of about two inches in diameter; on the outer side are 
engrayed letters indicating the names of the months, with graduated divisions ; and 
on the inner side the hours of the day. The brass circle itself is to be held in one 
position by a ring ; but there is an inner slide in which there is a small orifice. This 
slide being moved so that the hole stands opposite the division of the month when 
the day falls of which we desire to know the time, the circle is held up opposite the 
sun. The inner side is of course then in shade ; but the sunbeam shines through the 
little orifice and forms a point of light upon the hour marked on the inner side. Hal- 
LIWELL : The term ' dial ' appears to have been applied, in Shakespeare's time, to 
anything for measuring time in which the hours were marked, so that the allusion here 
may be either to a watch or to a portable joiumey-ring or small sun-dial Ring- 
dials were manufactured in large number at ShefHeld so lately as the close of the last 
century, and were commonly used by the lower orders. [Halliwell gives three or 
four descriptions of various patterns, accompanied with wood-cuts; the frontispiece 
of his volume is an engraving of an ivory *■ viatorium or pocket sun-dial.'] 

22. poake] If the Fool were habited in the orthodox fashion, this pocket was 
probably the 'large purse or wallet' referred to above by Douce. — Ed. 

25. wagges] See Schmidt for instances of both its transitive and intransitive sense. 
Hamlet's use of it is noteworthy : < I'll fight .... Until my eyelids will no longer 
wag.'— V, i, 255. 

28. ripe] Thus, * stay the very riping of the time,' Mer, of Ven, II, viii, 43. Used 
as a verb in only two or three other instances, according to Schmidt. Moberly : 
Probably most readers of the play will have remarked that the Fool's utterances, as 
here given, are not in Touchstone's style. He is not the kind of fool who rails * in 
good set terms,' which are ridiculous from their grave senselessness. It would appear 
that the Poet allowed himself to turn aside for a moment here to satirize and parody 
some of the current dramas of the day. The original of these lines seems to have 
been TTie Spanish Trendy of Kyd, where a father, finding his son hanged on an 
apple-tree, vents his grief by sa3ring of it, * At last it grew and grew, and bore and 
bore ; Till at the length it grew a gallows.' The pun on * gallows ' and * thereby 
hangs a tale ' is quite Shakespearian. [But we must remember that it is Jaques who 
reports Touchstone's words. We hear Touchstone only through Jaques's ears. And 
as for the parody on Hieronimo— it is not impossible. Kyd's fellow-dramatists found 
in that tragedy a rich vein of Termagant o'erdone, and worked it with ridicule merci- 
lessly. It was not, however, at the substance, the plot of the tragedy, that they 
laughed, it was only at the wild rant of the expression, such as ' What outcry plucks 
me fix>m my naked bed ?' * let my hair heave up my nightcap/ &c. And so it seems 



ACT n. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 107 

And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot, 

And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare 30 

The motley Foole, thus morall on the time, 

My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere, 

That Fooles (hould be fo deepe contemplatiue : 

And I did laugh, fans intermiflfion 

An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole, 35 

A worthy foole : Motley's the onely weare. 

33. deepe contemplatiue'] deep-contemplative Mai. Steev. Knt, Dyce, Cam. 

Co me doubtful that there . can have been here any thought in Shake^>eare'8 mind of 
The Spanish Tragedy ; it comes too near ridiculing the very substance of that drama, 
which was a bitter tragedy, to have compared the 'hanging of a tale' with the 
hanging of an idolised son in his own father's orchard. — £d.] 

30. tale] A phrase used several times by Shakespeare. Weiss (p. 115) : What 
tale ? Why, the everlasting tedious one of over-accredited common-place behavior. 
Only a Touchstone, with his sly appreciation, can lend any liveliness to that. 

31. morall] This is generally interpreted as a verb, equivalent to moralise. But 
Schmidt, s. v., says it is * probably an adjective,* a view which is strengthened, I 
think, by the preposition * on.' If the verb, moralise, needs no preposition after it (cf. 

< Did he not moralize this spectacle ?' — II, i, 48), it is not easy to see why < moral,' 
'd used as an equivalent verb, should need one. Had Shakespeare intended to con- 
vey the force of moralise, would he not have used the word ? there is no exigency 
of rhythm to prevent it The line, < The motley Fool thus moralise the time,' runs 
smoothly.— Ed. 

32. crow] Wright : That is, to laugh merrily. Cf. ' You were wont, when you 
laughed, to crow like a cock,' Two Gent. II, i, 28, [From what Speed says to Val- 
entine it is to be inferred, I think, that this < crowing ' was laughter, not so much, per- 
haps, of a merry, as of a boisterous, kind. The contrast lies in Valentine's present 
lovesick condition, when < he speaks puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas,' with his 
former manly estate, when he was wont to crow like a cock when he laughed. — Ed.] 

32. Chanticleere] Stuext, s, v. chcmt : Chant-i-cleer, i, e. dear-singing; equiva- 
lent to Middle English chaunte-cleer ; Chaucer, Nun^s Prestes, T. 1. 29. 

33. deepe contemplatiue] For other compound adjectives, see Abbott, $ 2. 

34. sans] Wright (Note on Temp, I, ii, 97) : This French preposition appears 
to have been brought into the language in the fourteenth century, and occuis in the 
forms saun, son*, satentz, saunz, and saunce. It may, perhaps, have been employed 
St first in purely French phrases, such as *■ sans question. '^Z^z^x Lab, Z. V, i, 91 ; 
'sans compliment,' King John, V, vi, 16. But Shakespeare uses it with other words, 
ss here, and in Ham, III, iv, 79. Nares quotes instances from Jonson, Beau. & Y\.^ 
Massinger, and others. So that it appears to have had an existence for a time as an 
English word. Cotgrave gives: ^Sans. Sanse, without, besides'; and Florio has, 
*Senga, sans, without, besides.' 

36. Motley] CAX.DECOTT : There was a species of mercery known by that name, 

< Polymitus. He that maketh motley. Polymitarius.'^Withal's little Diet., 1568. 
* Frisadoes, Motleys, bristowe frices ' are in the number of articles reconmiended for 
northern traffic in 1580. Hakluyt's yoyages, 1582. 



io8 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. vii. 

Du, Sen. What foole is this ? 37 

laq. O worthie Foole : One that hath bin a Courtier 

And fayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire, 

They haue the gift to know it : and in his braiue^ 40 

Which is as drie as the remainder bisket 

After a voyage : He hath ftrange places cramM 42 

39. bufl Om. FjF^, Rowe i. 40. braiu£\ F,. 

36, 38. A worthy . . . O worthie] An anonymous conjecture recorded in the 
Cam. Ed. is, I think, an emendatio cerHsHma ; it had occurred to me independently. 
It is that this 'A' and this * O ' should change places. When the Duke asks Jaques a 
direct question, < What fool is this ?' Jaques, according to the text, instead of answer- 
ing, breaks out into an apostrophe, < O worthie Foole !' which, however much it may 
relieve his feelings, is certainly somewhat discourteous to the Duke. It is this dis- 
courtesy and this irrelevancy which first made the phrase suspicious. Change the 
' O ' into Ay and at once all b right ; we have an answer to the Duke, and the second 
half of the line is properly connected with the first : * A worthie Foole, one that hath 
bin,' &c. Thus, too, in line 35, after apostrophising the fool : < Oh noble foole,' there 
is to me something weak in falling to the third person, and adding < a worthie foole.' 
It should be * Oh worthy foole.' — Ed. 

41. drie] Wright: In the physiology of Shakespeare's time a dry brain accom- 
panied slowness of apprehension and a retentive memory. We read in Batman vppon 
Bartholomew fol. 37, b^ * Good disposition of the braine and euill is knowne by his 
deedes, for if the substaunce of the braine be soft, thinne, and deere : it receiueth 
lightly the feeling & printing of shapes, and lykenesses of thinges. He that hath 
such a braine is swift, and good of perseveraunce and teaching. When it is con- 
trarye, the braine is not softe ; eyther if he be troubled, he that hath such a braine 
receiueth slowly the feeling and printing of thinges : But neuerthelesse when hee hath 
taken and receiued them, he keepeth them long in minde. And that is signe and 
token of drinesse, as fluxibility & forgetting is token of moisture, as Haly sayth.' See 
Tro. dr» Cress, I, iii, 329. 

41. bisket] BoswELL : So in Jonson's Every Man Out of his Humour [Induc- 
tion] : 'And, now and then, breaks a dry biscuit jest, Which,' &c. 

42. places] Deuus : That is, strange passages from books, remarkable citations. 
Schmidt (p. 455) : This interpretation of Delius's must be left undecided ; no paral- 
lel example in Shakespeare occurs to me. Wright : Topics or subjects of discourse. 
Compare Bacon, Advancement of Learnings ii, 13, $ 7 : 'Ancient writers of rlietoric 
do give it in precept, that pleaders should have the places, whereof they have most 
continual use, ready handled in all the variety that may be.' Neil : A scholastic 
phrase for stock arguments, ideas, topics — Loci communes, Rolfe: That is, odd 
comers. Wright's explanation as ' topics or subjects of discourse ' does not suit so 
well with < cramm'd.' [There can be no doubt, I think, that Bacon uses the word 
•s Wright has exactly defined it In $ 9, Bacon says : < The other part of invention, 
which I term suggestion, doth assign and direct us to certain marks or places, which 
may excite our mind to return and produce such knowledge as it hath formerly col- 
lected, to the end we may make use thereof;' which is very nearly in Jaques's exact 
phrase a * place, cramm'd with observation.' Again, ' I do receive particular topics, 



ACT II. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 109 

With obferuation, the which he vents 43 

In mangled formes. O that I were a foole, 

I am ambitious for a motley coat. 45 

Du. Sen. Thou fhalt haue one. 

lag. It is my onely fuite, 47 

that is, places or directions of invention and inquiry in every particular knowledge, 
as things of great use.' — § 10. Dr Johnson, in his Dictionary^ gives as one of the 
definitions of *■ Place/ ' a passage in writing,' but under the definition * separate room ' 
he cites as an example the present phrase of Jaques. That Delius's, Wright's, and 
Neil's interpretation is correct is shown by the rest of the sentence : these strange 
subjects the fool * vents in mangled forms.' It is not easy to see how * separate 
rooms * or * odd comers * could be either vented or mangled. — Ed.] 

43. obseruation] To be pronounced as five syllables. This dissolution^ as it is 
called, of the -ion is almost universal at the end of a line, but it is comparatively rare 
in the body of the line. See Walker, Vers. p. 230. 

45. ambitious] Wright : This word, as would appear from the word < suit * in 
the next speech of Jaques, is here used with something of the meaning of the Latin 
amhitiosuSy going about as a candidate. 

47. suite] Johnson : That is, petition^ I believe, not dress, Steevens : It is a 
quibble, as in IV, i, 85. Staunton : The old, old play on the double meaning of 
the word. [No fit opportunity has presented itself thus far to set forth Whiter's 
theory of the Association of Ideas. As the present passage fairly unfolds it, it is given 
here, and repetition hereafter is rendered needless. It is defined (p. 68) as ' the power 
of association over the genius of the poet, which consists in supplying him with words 
and with ideas, which have been suggested to the mind by a principle of union unper- 
ceived by himself, and independent of the subject to which they are applied. From 
this definition it follows : First, that as these words and sentiments were prompted by 
a cause which is concealed from the poet, so they contain no intentional allusion to 
the source from whence they are derived ; and secondly, that as they were forced on 
the recollection of the writer by some accidental concurrence not necessarily depend- 
ent on the sense or spirit of the subject, so they have no necessary resemblance in this 
secondary application to that train of ideas in which they originally existed.' On p. 
82 we find the following illustration of this theory as thus defined : < It is certain that 
those ideas are apparently very remote from each other which relate to drcss^ to a 
noisome plant, and to that which is expressive of asking or accommodating; and yet 
the curious reader will be astonished to discover that the Poet is often led to connect 
some of these dissimilar objects, because they have l)een by accident combined under 
the same sound ; and because certain words, by which they are expressed, are some- 
times found to be coincident in sense. The words to which I allude are Suit and 
Weed, which from their equivocal senses have strangely operated on the mind of the 
Poet to produce, without his own knowledge and without confusion of metaphor, the 
union of words or the connexion of the ideas.' Among his first examples Whiter 
qtlotes the present passage from line 45 to line 50, italicising coat, suit, and weed, and 
then continues : < This the reader must acknowledge to be a singular combination. I 
agree with Dr Johnson that " suit " mea.us petition and not dress, and I think Steevens 
is mistaken in supposing that the Poet meant a quibble. Let me observe in this place 
that there is a species of quibble which may be referred in a certain sense to the prin- 



no AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. vil 

[It is my onely suite,] 
ciple which I am discussing; and it is therefore necessary te remind the reader that I 
mean only to produce those instances of association where the author himself was 
unconscious of its effect .... In the following passage dress is united to the plant : 
** they are ... . preachers to us all ; admonishing, That we should dress us fairly for 
our end. Thus may we gather honey from the Tveedy And make a moral of the devil 
himself." — Ifen. V: IV, i, 9. The argument, which I am illustrating, will not be 
affected by the sense in which dress is taken ; whether it signifies address^ to prepare, 
or dress^ to clothe ; as the association arising from the same sound bearing an equivo- 
cal sense will be equally remarkable In the following passage dress is connected 

with steit in its sense of accommodatum, '* Bravery " (as every one knows) is splen- 
dour in dress : ** That says his bravery is not on my cost (Thinking that I mean him), 
but therein suits" &c. [11. 83, 84 of the present Scene] In the following pas- 
sage from Coriolanus ** weed " in the sense of dress is connected with the word ** suit '* 
in the sense oi petition ; and there is likewise a new notion annexed, which relates to a 
peculiar meaning of the equivocal word " suit " : " forget not With what contempt he 
wore the humble weed; How in his suit he scom'd you ; but your loves. Thinking 
upon his services^ took from you The i^)prehension of his present portance. Which 
most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After,*' &c. — Cor, II, iii, 228. In this pas- 
sage the remarkable words are weedy suity services^ fashion ; and the reader, I hope, 
will not imagine that I refine too much, when I inform him that the word services is 
to be referred to the same association; and that it was suggested to the Poet by 
another signification which suit sometimes bears of livery y the peculiar dress by which 
the servants and retainers of one family were distinguished from those of another. 
These distinctions were considered matters of great importance ; and we accordingly 
find both in Shakespeare and in all our ancient writers allusions of this sort perpetu- 
ally occur, and the idea of service \s often connected with the badge or dress by 
which it is accompanied. Thus : " Wear this for me ; one out of suits with fortune," 
&c. [I, ii, 242 of the present play, where Steevens's and Malone's notes are quoted 

by Whiter as confirming his view] I could produce numberless passages in 

which familiar metaphors are directly taken from the distinguishing dress of servants ; 
but those instances only are directed to explain my present argument, in which worth 
relating to a certain subject, though not all applied to it, have been connected with 
each other by an involuntary association. To illustrate more fully the passage pro- 
duced above from Coriolanus, take the following, where service and fashion are like- 
wise again united : '< How well in thee appears The constant service of the antique 
world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of 
these times " [II, iii, 58 of the present play]. << Suit " and " service " we know are 
terms familiar to the language of our Feudal Law. No ideas are more impressed on 
the mind of our Poet than those that have reference to the Law. In the following 
passages suit and service are again united : Mer. of Ven, II, ii, 153-156; Lov^s Lab, 
Z. V, ii, 275, 276 ; lb, V, ii, 849, 850.' [It is not necessary that we should agree 
with Whiter in order to admire his ingenuity. That his theory is incapable of down* 
right proof must be confessed, and yet who can gainsay it ? There is one rather 
striking instance of what he urges in regard to an association in Shakespeare's mind 
between weeds and suits in Lear, which strangely escaped Whiter's observation. 
Cordelia says to Kent : * Be better suited ; These weeds are memories of those 
worser hours ; I prithee put them off.'^IV, vii, 6. Here ' weed ' is used, as in many 
another place in these plays, for garment (it still survives in ' widow's weeds '), and it 



ACT n. sc. vu.] AS YOU LIKE IT iii 

Prouided that you weed your better iudgements 48 

Of all opinion that growes ranke in them, 

That I am wife. . I muft haue liberty 50 

Wiithall, as large a Charter as the winde, 

To blow on whom I pleafe, for fo fooles haue : 

And they that are mod gauled with my folly, 

They moft muft laugh : And why fir muft they fo ? 

The why is plaine^ as way to Parifli Church : 55 

Hee, that a Foole doth very wifely hit, 

Doth very fooliftily, although he fmart 

Seeme fenfeleffe of the bob. If not, 58 

51. Wuthatt^ F,. 58. Seeme\ Ff, Rowe, Pope. But to 

55. why] way Rowe ii. Coll. (MS), Wh. i, Coll. ii, iii, Dyce iii, 

56. Hee, thatl He whom Pope + . Rife. Not to Theob. et cet 

was because it thus means garments that it was associated elsewhere with suits of 
clothes, even when it means a troublesome plant, as in this present speech of Jaques. 
Whiter noted that ' suit ' here in Jaques's mind suggested ' weed ' ; it did not, perhaps, 
come within the scope of his special association to note that < weed ' in turn suggested 
< rank growth ' in the next line. And may we not carry on the association and fill 
out the picture, and see the gaudy blossoms bending in ' the wind ' that ' blows on 
whom it pleases,' along the summer pathway to the *■ Parish Church * ?— Ed.] 

51. V\ruth«U] See I, i, 130. 

51. Charter] Stekvens: So m Hen, V: I, i, 48: *The wind, that charter'd lib- 
ertine, is still.' 

53. TiECK (p. 311) infers, from what he considers a resemblance between this and 
a passage in Jonson's Every Man Out of his Humour, that there is more or less ref- 
erence in this character of Jaques to Jonson himself. The passage occurs in the 
Induction (p. 12, ed. GiiTord) : ' I'll strip the ragged follies of the time IS^aked as at 
their birth — and with a whip of steel PHnt wounding lashes in their iron ribs/ &c. 
While the character itself of Jaques may have been intended for Jonson, Tieck thinks 
that in the rest of this speech, and especially in the Duke's reply, there may be an 
allusion to Marston, in whose Scourge of Villainy Tieck is * inclined on more than 
one ground to believe that Shakespeare himself is lashed.' This fanciful surmise of 
Tieck's has met with no acceptance. I have alluded to it again in the Appendix on 
* The Date of Composition.* — Ed. 

53) 54* Neil : ' The very attempt to disguise embarrassment too often issues in a 
secondary and more marked embarrassment.' — De Quincey [Lit, Reminiscences, i, 25, 
quoted by Ingleby]. 

55. as way] Abbott, § 83 : ^ and the are also sometimes omitted after as, like, 
and than in comparative sentences. See * creeping like snail,' post 154. 

57. 58. Theobald : Besides that [line 58] is defective one whole foot in measure, 
the tenour of what Jaques continues to say, and the reasoning of the passage, show it 
no less defective in the sense. There is no doubt that the two little monosyllables 
which I have supplied [see Textual Notes] were either by accident wanting in the 
MS copy, or by inadvertence left out at press. Whiter (p. 23) : I read and point 



iia AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. vii. 

[Doth very foolishly, ... If not,] 
the passage thus : *■ He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, Doth, s^rj foolishly although 
he smart, Seem senseless of the bob ; if not,' &c. That is, a wise man, whose fail- 
ings should chance to be well rallied by a simple, unmeaning jester, even though he 
should be weak enough really to be hurt by so foolish an attack, appeais always 
insensible of the stroke. When the line is smooth it will not be necessary for us to dis- 
turb the text on the authority of our fingers. As the poet did not write with such a 
process, so he ought not to be tried by such a test. Caldecott : Olivia in Twelfth 
Ns has much this sentiment : * To be generous, guiltless, and of free disposition is to 
take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets ; there is no slander in an 
allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.* — I, v, loo. Coluer [Notes^ &c., p. 
131) : Theobald was nearly right, though not entirely so, for the better correction in 
the Fol. 1632 is 'Bmt to seem,* &c. White (ed. i) : The text of Collier's (MS) better 
suits the style of Shakespeare^s time. Dycs (ed. i) : I cannot agree with Singer {Sk. 
Vim^, p. 40) that * Whiter explains the old text satisfactorily, and neither [Theobald's 
nor G>llier's] addition is absolutely necessary.' Winter's explanation of the old text 
here was a little too much even for Caldecott and Knight Keightley {Expasitvr^ 
p. 15S) : We have the very same omission [as Theobald's tut to\ in < Yet if it be yooi 
wills nM to forgive The sin I have committed, let it not fikll,' &c — PhilasUr, II, hr, 
where none of the editors have perceived the loss. [Nor would have accepted * the 
loss ' had it been ofiered to them. Keightley's emendatioo here in Philaster is, I 
think, utteriy wrong. — £ix] Ingleby {Sh. Ifenmemmtics, p. 81) disapproves of 
Theobald's emendatioQ, and thus attempts the vindication of the or^;inal text : Why 
does a fool do wistfy in hitting a wise man ? Because, throqgh the vantage of his 
folly, he puts the wise man * in a strait betwixt two,' to pat up with the smart of the 
boK without dissembling, and the oooseqnential awkwardness of having to do so^ 
which makes him foel foolish enoogb-— or to pat up widi the smart, mm^ efissewMe it^ 
which entails the secoDdarr awkwardness of the dissimnlafion, whidi makes him fed 
still more fooli^ Takii^ the fonoaer aheniatiTe, i. «. « If not' (' If i^ i^ not ') hb 

* folly is anatomised ev^n br the squandering ^anoes of the fool ' ; taking the latter 
ahemadvc, he makes a fool of himsdf in the eyes of almost everybody else. So the 
fool gets die advantage bodi wmys. .... Ohserring dial [hoe 5S] is too short, we 
think it prcihahle that die words kt do originanT formed part of iL Be that as k may, 
< If not* must mean < If he do ooL' IVthaps < vciy foofiddy ' dunld be in si parea- 
di«sxs; and* x^TTTwisdy' might be so also. Wright ^bvsrepfies to Ii^My: lathe 
iirst place, it is ocft said diat die fool dodi wisdy in hioi^ a wise man ; hut if hehitt 
him wisely, die How on the part of die fool beii^ stnack aft raadom, si 
glance, withcot any wisdom of lUteBitioii, die wise man wiQ do wyH to ohserc>ie si 
tain line of ccndvct. Again, Dr logfeby^s expSaaaDon woald seem to re^qasre ' ' 
he ssiarts * i»s<«3»d of * ahhcw^ he smarts,* «s diewi^g how it is thsft &e wise man^s 
dissamvlacion is fociH^ or awinntnL If ^e wise man in his rTiTnlmriMiLM x«rr foo3« 
tshhr or awkwaixihr soempts to seem zaseosable to the }esaii^ of Ok ScsoI, has foZhr is 
a2»atcl^lis^d or expowd us m«ch us it p«sab}y ccatU he, send the oobctssi xn^sSed in die 

* If 7)c< * of the next seoienoe has so poiot. * If siOL* lluA is» if he do aot w^ait is 
ss^:{;r$9ed, " die wise man^ foHy is stuttomiwd * or laid have «■««& by l^ exxnn^mft 
and Tvndcm sallies of the fool. The jveoedii^ senieBoe s&xws hew das is 10 he 
a^'vk^ed, w^ich is Vc seemoi^ ime nsR ie to the jeA aoid Ua^i iy it «#: Idr odKswise, 
if the wise msa jdiew$ thtf he ieeih die itii^, or «■««» foohshh- mid Jiml f um - ^ ^g». 
I«ises htt foehx^, whk^ if die oii3y mesBi^ of w^nch 



ACT n. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 113 

The Wife-mans folly is anathomizM 

Euen by the fquandring glances of the foole. 60 

Inueft me in my motley : Giue me leaue 

To fpeake my minde, and I will through and through 

Cleanfe the foule bodie of th'infefled world, 

If they will patiently receiue my medicine. 

Du. Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldft do. 65 

lag. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good ? 

59. Wt/e-tnans] wise rnanU Rowc et 61. my] tJu F^F^, Rowe. 
seq. 62. andthrougJi\ Om. F^F^. 

60. the foole] a fool Y^^^ Rowe + . 

his folly is equally exposed. Jaques gives this as the explanation of what he said in 
line 53 : 'And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh.' The 
reading of the Folio is not an explanation, but a repetition. [In Shakespeare thi 
Man^ &c., p. 140, Ingleby replied to Wright and ' restated ' his own argument, but 
with no essential addition. It seems to me that the original text is capable of being 
thus paraphrased : He who is hit the hardest by me must laugh the hardest, and that 
he must do so is plain ; because if he is a wise man he must seem perfectly insensible 
to the hit ; no matter how much he smarts, he must still seem foolishly senseless of the 
bob by laughing it off. Unless he does this, viz. : show his insensibility by laughing 
it off, any chance hit of the fool will expose every nerve and fibre of his folly. See 
Dr Johnson's paraphrase below. I really do not see any need of changing the text. 
—Ed.] 

58. bob] Dyce : A taunt, a scoff. ' A bob, sanna* G)les's Lai, and Eng, Diet, 
Wright: G>tgrave: 'Taloche: A bob, or a rap ouer the Bngers ends closed 
together.* 

58. If not] Johnson : Unless men have the prudence not to appear touched with 
the sarcasms of a jester, they subject themselves to his power ; and the wise man will 
have his folly 'anatomised,' that is, dissected and laid open^ by the 'squandering 
glances ' or random shots of a fool. 

60. squandring] See the citations in proof that to ' squander ' means to scatter in 
Mer, of Ven. I, iii, 22 : ' Other ventures hee hath squandred abroad.' 

66. Counter] Steevens : Dr Farmer observes to me that about the time when 
this play was written the French ' counters ' (t. e. pieces of false money used as a 
means of reckoning) were brought into use in England. They are mentioned in 
TYo. 6r* Cress. II, ii, 28 : * Will you with counters sum The vast proportion of his 
infinite?' Knight: The wager proposed by Jaques was not a very heavy one. 
Jettons or counters, which are small and very thin, are generally of copper or brass, 
but occasionally of silver, or even of gold ; they were commonly used for purposes 
of calculation in abbeys and other places, where the revenues were complex and of 
difficult adjustment. From their being found among the ruins of English abbeys they 
are usually termed abbey-counters. They have been principally coined abroad, par- 
ticularly at NQmberg, though some few have been struck in England since the reign 
of Henry VIII. The most ancient bear on both sides crosses, pellets, and globes ; 
the more modem have portraits and dates and heraldic arms on the reverse. The 

legends are at times religious, and at others Gardez vous de mescompter^ and the like. 
8 



114 ^^ you LIKE IT [ACT II. sc vn. 

Du. Sen. Mod mifcheeuous foule fin, in chiding fin : 67 

For thou thy felfe haft bene a Libertine, 
As fenfuall as the brutifli fting it felfe, 
And all th'imboffed fores, and headed euils, 70 

67. chiding Jin] F,. 69. fting\ swine Gould. 

68. bene\ ben F,. 70. imboffed] embossed Pope. 

69. bruHJh] bruiHJh FjF^. 

67, &c. MoBERLY : You would do foul sin in chiding others ; for your former 
profligacy would make you corrupt the world, not amend it, by your experience. To 
converts like you silence is more suitable than the part of a moral and social reformer. 
Allen (MS) : Jaques understands the sin, which the Duke predicts he will commit, 
to be false-witness, or calumnious satire, in that he will disgorge upon the world 
charges (< chidings ') of their being guilty of such sins as he had himself committed. 

69. brutish sting] Johnson : Though < brutish sting ' is capable of a sense not 
inconvenient in this passage, yet as it is a harsh and unusual mode of speech, I should 
read the < brutish sty^ Steevens : G>mpare 0th. I, iii, 361 : < our carnal stings, our 
unbitted lusts.' Wright : The impulse of the animal nature. 

70. imbossed] Dyce : A hunting term, properly applied to a deer when foaming 
at the mouth from fatigue. Also, swollen, protuberant. Furnivall {Abtes 6r* Qu, 
4th S. vol. xi, 507) shows that the two meanings, scarcely sufficiently distinguished by 
Dyce, are due to two different derivatives : * The oldest is a term in hunting from Old 
French, and, therefore, almost certain to involve some ** conceit *' or fancifril allusion. 
When the deer foams at the mouth frx>m fatigue, is covered with bubbles there, he is 
accordingly said to be "embossed." Cotgrave's ** Embosser: To swell, or arise in 
bunches, hulches, knobs; to grow knottie or knurrie.'* So in Tam. Shr. I, i, 17, the 
" poor cur " Merriman is embossed or foams at the mouth, and is ill. So again, of 
Antony foaming with rage against her, Cleopatra says (IV, xiii, 2) "the boar of 
Thessaly was never so embossed" ; never so foamed with rage. The other embossed 
is from the Old French " emboser^ emboiter, enchftsser nne chose dans une autre. 
Ducange, v. imbotareV — Hippeau. This is G>tgrave*s **Emhoister: To imbox, 
inclose, insert, fasten, put, or shut up, as within a box," and is Shakespeare's word in 
All^s Weiiy III, vi, " we have almost embossed him " (emboxt him), as is clear from 
the next speech : "First Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we ctise 
him.'" [Is not 'case,' by the way, in this last speech the ordinary hunting and 
culinary term, meaning to skin ? The distinction, however, between these two mean- 
ings, which have caused much discussion, was first, I think, here pointed out by Fur- 
nivall, and has been fully confirmed.] Skeat, s. v, ^Emboss (i), to adorn with bosses 

or raised work (French) Lat. im-^in; and Old French bosse, a boss. Emboss 

(2), to enclose or shelter in a wood (French) Old French, embosquer, to shroud 

in a wood Lat. im- = in; and Old French, bosc or bosque, only used in the 

diminutive form bosquet^ a little wood.' 

70. euils] Walker {Crit. iii, 61) : An old use of 'evil,' still extant in 'king's 
evil.* [In quoting this line Walker gives it ' beaded evils.* Lettsom, in a foot-note, 
says : ' I follow Walker's manuscript, though, from his silence, beaded may be a slip 
of his pen or memory. I suspect it to be the genuine word, though I believe all edi- 
tions have " headed." * It is certainly a good emendation, and follows out the mean- 
ing of ' embossed ' even more completely than, probably, Lettsom was aware of. — Ed.] 



ACT II. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT I15 

That thou with Hcenfe of free foot haft caught, 71 

Would'ft thou difgorge into the generall world. 

laq. Why who cries out on pride, 
That can therein taxe any priuate party : 

Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea, 75 

Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe. 

74. taxe\ be tax'dofT>9S!LveX, means Cald. wearer's very means Sing. 

76. wearie verie meanes"] weary very Wh. Dyce ii, Ktly, Coll. iii, Huds. Cla. 

means F F4, Rowe, Knt, Coll. i, Dyce i, Rife, very means of wear QjcilX.Yi. means^ 

iii, Sta. Cam. Clke. very very means the very means Jervis. tributary streams 

Pope+, Cap. Stecv. Mai. wearie very Lloyd (ap. Cam. 'EA.). 

71. with license] The definite article is absorbed in the th of * with.' — Ed. 

73. Walker i^Crit. iii, 61) would arrange the lines : * Why, who cries out on pride, 
that can therein Tax any private party ?' and begin a new line, < Doth it not,' &c. 
[But all such arrangements are merely scansion for the eye, and could not possibly 
be indicated on the stage. — Ed.] Keightley {Expository p. 158) : There is some- 
thing wanting here ; for in this play the speeches never begin with a short line. It 
is evident also that it is one kind of pride, that of dress, that is spoken of. I there- 
fore read without hesitation 'pride of bravery* 

73, &c. MOBERLY : Chide as I will, why should I offend them ? Who can say 
I mean him? Jaques appears either wilfully or through shallowness to miss the 
deep wisdom of the Duke's saying and the whole character of his admonition^ 
The Duke had not said that Jaques would offend people, but that he would corrupt 
them. 

76, 78. Tin that . . . When that] See I, iii, 44. 

76. wearie verie] Whiter (p. 24) : The original text is certainly right The 
sense is, 'Till that the very means being weary do ebb.' Caldecott explains 
* wearie * by exhausted. Singer {Notes 6r* Qu. vol. vi, p. 584, Dec. '52) : It is quite 
obvious we should read ' the wearer's very means.' The whole context shows this to 
be the poet's word, relating as it does to the extravagant cost of finery bestowed by 
the pride of the wearers on unworthy shoulders, ' until their very means do ebb.' 
Collier (ed. i) : A clear sense can be made out of the passage as it stands in the 
old text, and we therefore reprint it ; but the compositor may have misread * wearie ' 
for wearing^ and transposed < very ' ; and if we consider Jaques to be railing against 
pride and excess of apparel, the meaning may be that *■ the very wearing means,' or 
means of wearing fine clothes, * do ebb.' Halliwell : The meaning [of the original 
text] is, does not pride flow as stupendously as the sea, until that its very means, being 
weary or exhausted, do ebb. The original text is perfectly intelligible, and similar 
transpositions of adjectives are met with in other places. It may he observed, how- 
ever, that Rosalind, in the Fourth Act, terms herself * your very^ very Rosalind.' 
Collier (ed. ii) : Our reading is that of the (MS), * the very means of wear * being 
the money spent upon the apparel of pride to which Jaques is referring. Staunton : 
The reading of the old text is not very clear ; neither are the emendations of it which 

have been adopted or proposed The disputed words should, perhaps, be printed 

with a hyphen, weary-very or very-weary. Dyce (ed. i) : Though I believe the line 
to be corrupted, I follow the old copy, because none of the changes which have been 
pix^>06ed are quite satisfactory. [Herein Dyce takes me completely with hun. — Ed.] 



ii6 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. viL 

What woman in the Citie do I name, 77 

When that I fey the City woman beares 

The coft of Princes on vnworthy fhoulders ? 

Who can come in, and fay that I meane her, 80 

When fuch a one as fhee, fuch is her neighbor ? 

Or what is he of bafeft funftion, 

That fayes his brauerie is not on my coft, 

Thinking that I meane him, but therein fuites 

His folly to the mettle of my fpeech, 85 

There then, how then, what then, let me fee wherein 

My tongue hath wronged him : if it do him right, 

Then he hath wronged himfelfe : if he be free, 

why then my taxing like a wild-goofe flies 

VnclaimM of any. man But who come here? 90 

Enter Orlando. 
OrL Forbeare, and eate no more. 92 

78. City woman] dfy'jvoman Pope. Steev. Tk^e then ; haw then t what 

83. on my\ of my Cam. (misprint ?) then ? Theob. et cet. 

Glo. Qa. Wh. ii. 86. There ^./ee^There then; how then f 

85. fpeech^ speech. Pope, speech t let me then see Han. 

Theob. ^. wild-goo/e] Tvild goose 'Royrt. 

86. There then] Where then MaL 90. come] F,. 

conj. 91. Scene VIII. Pope+. 

There.,. what then] Ff, Rowe4-. Enter... with a sword drawn. 

There then; How^ what then? Gip. Theob. et seq. 

Dyce (ed. ii) : I adopt Singer's correction as being, at least, not so violent as the 

other proposed readings Mr Lettsom queries, < Till that your bravery bring 

your means to ebb.' Dyce (ed. iii) silently returns to the original text. 

76. meanes] In Notes b* Qu. 5th Ser. vol. v, p. 143, S. T. P. proposes to substi- 
tute mains, i. e. * main flood, or springtide.' On p. 345 of the same volume, J. L. 
Walker suggests ' mears, i. e. boundaries or limits.' 

82. function] Moberly : Suppose I say that mean fellows should not be smart, 
and suppose any such peraon, the lowest of the low, tells me he does not dress at my 
expense, he only proves that the cap fits. 

86. Walker ( Vers. 116) among instances of the shifting accent of wherein, whereof, 
&c. cites this line, but reads * T^hs then ' for < There then.' Dyce (ed. iii) says Lett- 
som conjectures ^ Where {sic Malone — Ed.] then? how then? what then? let^s see 
wherein.' [The line is inflexibly, and I believe intentionally, trochaic. — Ed.] 

88. free] Dyce : Free from vicious taint, guiltless. As in < Make mad the guilty 
and appal the free.' — Ham. II, ii, 590. 

90. any. man But] Another trifling variation in different copies of the First Folio. 
The Reprint of 1807, Staunton's Photo-lithograph, and my copy place the period after 

< any.' Booth's Reprint, and the copy used by the Cambridge Editors, place it after 

< man.'— Ed. 



ACT n, sc viLJ AS YOU LIKE IT 117 

laq. Why I haue eate none yet 93 

OrL Nor (halt not, till neceffity be feruM. 

laq. Of what kinde ftiould this Cocke come of? 95 

Du. Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy diftresf 
Or elfe a rude defpifer of good manners. 
That in ciuility thou feem'ft fo emptie ? 

OrL You touchM my veine at firft,the thorny point 
Of bare diftreffe, hath tane from me the (hew 1 00 

Of fmooth ciuility : yet am I in-land bred, 
And know fome nourture : But forbeare, I fay, 102 

94. #f^] thou Theob. ii, Warb. Johns. come of— Ktly. come of I marvel Ktly 

95. 0/wAatl What Johns. Gip. (cor- conj. 

rected in Errata). 100. hath'] that hath Ff, Rowe i. 

come of] come Rowe, Pope, Han. loi. in-land] in land F^. inland 

Rowe, Johns. 

92, 93. According to Abbott, § 500, a trimeter couplet For < eate,' see § 343. 

95. Of ... of ] Abbott, § 407 : Where the verb is at some distance from the 
preposition with which it is connected, the preposition is frequently repeated for the 
sake of clearness. See line 146 below, * the Sceane Wherem we play m.' [There is 
the same idiom in Greek and in Latin. — Ed.] 

96. bolden'd] Richardson, Diet. s. v., gives ioU in the sense of audacious^ impu- 
dent, as well as in a good sense of fearless, &c. There seems to be here this worse 
meaning of ' bolden'd,' making it parallel with ' a rude despiser of good manners ' in 
the next line. Allen (MS) suggests this. — Ed. 

97. else] Wright : Redundant here, as in Ii. of L, 875 : * Or kills his life or else 
his quality.' 

98. ciuility] Wright : Politeness in a higher sense than it is used at present. 
See III, ii, 127, and Mer. of Ven. II, ii, 204: * Use all the observance of civility.' 

100. tane] Johnson : We might read torn with more elegance, but elegance alone 
will not justify alteration. 

loi. Abbott's scansion (§ 467) of this line is to me objectionable. Perhaps he is 
right in saying that an unaccented i before -ty is sometimes dropped, but I doubt if 
this be here required ; it gives a line which is to my ear anything but pleasant : * Of 
smooth I civili | (^ y^t | am I (n | land br^d.' I prefer to pronounce every syllable, 
' Of smooth I civil | ity | yet am | I in | land bred,' and term the line a trimeter 
couplet, or courageously call it a downright Alexandrine.— Ed. 

lox. in-land] Holt White: The opposite to outland or upland. Orlando 
means to say that he had not been bred among clowns. Caldecx)TT : Uplandish in 
our early writers and dictionaries is interpreted * unbred, rude, rustical, clownish ' ; 
' because,' says Minsheu, ' the people that dwell among mountains are severed frx^m 
the civilitie of cities,' 161 7. See III, ii, 334. 

102. nourture] Steevens: That is, education, breeding, manners. < It is a 
point of mtrture, or good manners, to salute them you meete. Urbanitas est salutare 
obvios.' — Baret's Ahearie, 1580. Wright: See Saladyn^s Complaint in Lodge's 
Novel : ' the faults of thy youth .... not onely discovering little nourture, but blem- 
ishing the excellence of nature.' 



118 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. viL 

He dies that touches any of this fruite, 103 

Till I, and my affaires are anfwered. 

laq. And you will not be anfwered with reafon, 105 

I muft dye. 

Du. Sen. What would you haue? 
Your gentleneffe fhall force, more then your force 
Moue vs to gentleneffe. 

OrL I almofl die for food, and let me haue it. 1 10 

105. And'^ Ff,Rowe,Cald. -5'^Pope+. 105, 106. be,„dye] Sep. line, Pope + . 

An Cap. ct cet. Prose, Cap. ct seq. 

an/w€r'd'\ ansroered Rowe. 107, 109. Two lines, ending force,.. 

gentlenejjfe Pope et seq. 

103. fruite] It seems superfluous, if not worse, to call attention to Shakespeare's 
acou^cy even in the most trivial details. MecU ox food would have suited the rhythm 
here, but ' fruite ' recalls the * banket ' which was now before the Duke. Of course, 
a little further on, when Orlando says he dies for * food,' he had to use that word 
then; it would have been laughable to say he died ior fruit. — ^Ed. 

104. 105. answered . . . answer'd] Abbott, § 474, refers to this as an instance 
where -ed is sonant and mute, even in words in close proximity. It is certainly thus 
printed in the Folio, as we see ; but I doubt if it be the better way. The scansion 
of these lines is not easy, and the majority of modem editors, following Capell's lead, 
have evaded the difficulty by printing lines 105 and 106 as prose, which I cannot but 
think is wrong. The whole scene is in rhythm, and one solitary prose sentence, thus 
breaking in, is as certainly discordant as it is suspicious. Pope and his followers down 
to Capell divided the lines, and printed, thus : <If you will not Be answered with 
reason I must die,' which is certainly better than prose, and it makes -ed sonant in 
both examples of < answered,' but the division of the lines at * not ' is objectionable. 
Why Capell printed as prose I cannot see ; he certainly, in his NoUs^ approves of 
Pope's division, that is, if I can understand his ragged English. I prefer the arrange- 
ment as we have it here, merely changing * answer'd ' to answered^ in order to avoid 
throwing the ictus on the last .syllable of 'reason;' to accent the last syllable of 
* reason ' weakens the force of what, I am afraid, Jaques intended for a pun. — ^Ed. 

105. reason] Staunton : We should, possibly, read reasons. Here, as in other 
places, Shakespeare evidently indulged in the pereimial pun on reasons and raisins. 

108, 109. gentlenesse . . . force . . . force . . . gentleness] Moberly calls atten- 
tion to what he considers the chiasm here. I think this can hardly be called a 
perfect chiasm, wherein something more is needed than a mere criss-cross position 
of the terms ; to speak arithmetically, the extremes, as well as the means, should be 
related. For instance, < warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer,' (Mer. 
of Ven. Ill, i, 57) is a complete chiasm. There appears to be no such relation here. 
—Ed. 

no. and] Abbott, § 100: I pray you may perhaps be understood after this word, 
implied in the imperative < let.' Dyce (ed. iii) : Probably (as Mr Lettsom remarks), 
an error caused by < and ' occurring twice in the next line : qy. so t Wright : For 
this use of < and ' in the sense of < and so ' or < and therefore,' see below, line 142, and 
Temp. I, ii, 186 : < 'Tis a good dulness, And give it way.' 



ACT II, sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 119 

Du, Sen, Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table ill 

Orl, Speake you fo gently ? Pardon me I pray you, 

I thought that all things had bin fauage heere, 

And therefore put I on the countenance 

Of fteme command'ment. But what ere you are 115 

That in this defert inacceffible, 

Vnder the (hade of melanchoUy boughes, 

Loofe, and negleft the creeping houres of time : 

If euer you haue look'd on better dayes : 

If euer bcene where bels haue knoU'd to Church : 120 

If euer fate at any good mans feaft : 

If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare, 122 

112. gently'] gentle Ktly. II 6. defert] defart F^F^, Rowe, Pope, 

113. bin] beene Ff. Theob. Han. Warb. 

115. command' ment] Ff. command- 1 18. Loofe y ctnd negledl] Neglect and 

ment Rpwe. lose Gentleman. 

120. bcene] F,. 

Ill, &c. Fletcher (p. 210) : Orlando's eagerness to relieve the pressing necessity 
of his aged servant, would not have permitted him to waste his time on even the most 
eloquent appeal to the feelings of his stranger host and his companions, but that he 
now feels ' gentleness ' to be his most effective weapon for securing from these men, 
with whom he is so newly acquainted, the means of relief to the subject of his solici- 
tude. Here, therefore, the speaker is making the best use of his time, even for that 
immediate purpose ; while the passage itself, so touchingly expressing his own sense 
of the sweets of social life, as contrasted with that of the wilderness to which he is 
yet uninured, is one of those most intimately disclosing that genial nature which 
Shakespeare has so studiously developed in this character. 

115. command'ment] Walker {Vers. p. 126) notes that in certain words in 
-ment the e which originally preceded this final syllable was sometimes retained and 
sometimes omitted. Dyce (ed. iii) in a note on Mer. of Ven. IV, i, 471, says that 

< commandment ' is to be there read as a quadrisyllable, as also in / Hen. VI: I, 
iii. * In all the other passages in Shakespeare where it occurs in his blank verse it 
is a trisyllable.' Dyce overlooked the fact in this note on Mer. of Ven. that it 
is only by following the text of Q,, as Dyce himself did, that * commandment ' in 
that place is a quadrisyllable. In the Folio it follows the rule and is a trisyllable : 

< Be vil I u^d I agiinst | your wfues | commandment.' The Quarto reads : < Be 
val I ew'd gainst | your wiues | command | em^nt.' Hence the instance in 7 Hen, 
VI lemains the only one where, in Shakespeare's blank verse, the word is a quadri- 
syllable. Wright notes that the quadrisyllabic form is to be found in Pass. Pil. 418 : 
' If to women he be bent They have at commandement.' — Ed. 

120. knoU'd] G)tgrave translates Carillonner by <to chyme, or knowle, bells ' ; 
and Carillonneur by * a chymer, or knowler, of bells ' ; under Carillon^ however, he 
gives, * A chyming of bells ; a knell.' Way, in Prompt. Parv.^ s. v. Knyllynge^ cites 
Palsgrave : I knolle a hfAXty Je frappe du batant. Halliwell quotes, ' poor weary souls 
that hear the bell knoll.' — Humourous Lieutenant, II, iv [p. 457]. 



I20 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. viL 

And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittied : 123 

Let gentleneffe my ftrong enforcement be, 

In the which hope, I blufh, and hide my Sword. 125 

Du. Sen. True is it, that we haue feene better dayes, 
And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church, 
And fat at good mens feafts, and wip'd our eies 
Of drops, that facred pity hath engendred : 
And therefore fit you downe in gentleneffe, 130 

And take vpon command, what helpe we haue 
That to your wanting may be miniftred. 

Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while : 
Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne, 
And giue it food. There is an old poore man, 135 

Who after me, hath many a weary fteppe 
Limpt in pure loue : till he be firft fuffic'd, 
Oppreft with two weake euils, age, and hunger, 138 

123. knew] known Han. Johns. 136. a\ Om. F^, Rowe i. 

\2S biuflt^bujk Ff. 

125. the which] See I, ii, 120. 

125. blush] If by chance the misprint of the three later Folios had occurred in 
the First, how loudly Shakespeare's classical knowledge would have been extolled, 
founded on this clear reference to Harmodius and Aristogeiton ! — Ed. 

131. vpon command] Johnson : It seems necessary to read demand y that is, ask 
for what we can supply and have it. [In the next Variorum Edition published after 
Johnson's death, this note was withdrawn, and in its place, we have] Steevens : 
* Upon command,' is at your own command. Colijer [ed. ii, reading with his (MS) 
commend'\ : Orlando has previously spoken of < commandment,' which he finds 
unnecessary; and here the Duke tells him to *take upon commend^ (as opposed to 
command) what he requires. Commend is misprinted *• command ' in the Folios, but 
the small, though important error is set right by the alteration of a letter in the (MS). 
The verb to commend is explained in our dictionaries, < To give anything into the 
hands of another.' Orlando was to take what he needed as a free gift, and not as a 
violent enforcement. Dyce (Strictures ^ &c. p. 69) : If Mr Collier had not been under 
a sort of spell, thrown over him by the (MS), he never would have tried to expound 
such a senseless alteration as * upon commend^ by referring to what precedes, — ^he would 
have dismissed it in silence. The meaning of the old reading, though dark to the 
(MS), hardly requires a gloss; most people will see immediately that 'upon com- 
mand ' is equivalent to < as you may choose to order, — at your will and pleasure.' 

134. Whiles] For this genitive of while see Abbott, § 137. 

134. Doe] Malone refers to the repetition of this simile xnV, ^ A, 875. 

138. weak evils] Caldecott: That is, unhappy weaknesses, or causes of weak- 
ness. [See *■ thriftie hire,' II, iii, 41, from which this differs in being a genuine prolep- 
sis or anticipation. Walker {Crit. ii, 85, followed by Abbott, § 4) gives the following 
examples of this figure so familiar to the ancients, whereby a predicate, which prop- 



ACT II. sc. viL] AS YOU LIKE IT 121 

I will not touch a bit. 

Duke Sen. Go finde him out 140 

And we will nothing wafte till you retume. 

Orl. I thanke ye, and be bleft for your good comfort 

Du Sen. Thou feeft, we are not all alone vnhappie: 
This wide and vniuerfall Theater 

Prefents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane 145 

Wherein we play in. 

la. All the world's a ftage, 147 

142. Exit. Rowe et seq. 146. Wheretn..,in] Wherein we play 

Scene IX. Pope + . Rowe, Pope, Han. Which we do play 

in Cap. conj. 

erly indicates effect, is made to express cause. Heywood, Silver Age, Lamb's Sped' 
menSf vol. ii, p. 229 (Ceres is threatening the earth), * With idle agues I'll consimie 
thy swains ; . . . . The rotten showers Shall drown thy seed.' Shakespeare, Sonnet 
xiii, 'the stormy gusts of winter's day. And barren rage of death's eternal cold.' 

Beau. & R., Mad Lover, III, iv : * Live till the mothers find you And sow their 

barren curses on your beauty.' Spenser, Faerie Queene, Bk. vi, C. xi, St xvii (speak- 
ing of dogs), * striving each to get The greatest portion of the greedie prey.' Walker 
professed to give merely a few instances in other poets ; in Shakespeare are number- 
less examples. See ' fair state,' Ham. Ill, i, 152; and instances there cited. — Ed.] 

146. Wherein . . . in] Steevens : I believe we should read with Pope, and add 
a word at the beginning of the next speech, to complete the measure, viz. : Why, all 
the worlds,' &c. Maginn (p. 72) : Qy : * Wherein we play on^* i. e. continue to play. 
[See line 95 above.] 

147. stage] Steevens : This observation occurs in one of the Fragments [No. X] 
of Petronius : ' Non duco contentionis funem, dum constet inter nos, quod fere totus 
mundus exerceat histrioniamJ Malone: This observation had been made in an 
English drama before the time of Shakespeare. See Damon <Sr* Pythias [x57i»p>3i» 
ed. Hazlitt] : * Pythagoras said, that this world was like a stage. Whereon many play 
their parts.' In The Legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, 1597, we find these lines : 
' Unhappy man Whose life a sad continual tragedie, Himself the actor, in the world, 
the stage. While as the acts are measur'd by his age.' Douce (i, 299) : Petronius 

had not been translated in Shakespeare's time In Withal's Short Dictionarie in 

Laiine and English, 1599, is the following passage : * This life is a certain enterlude 
or plaie. The world is a stage full of chang everie way, everie man is a plaier.' 
Also in Pettie's translation of Guazzo's Civile conversation, 1586, one of the parties 
introduces the saying of some philosopher ' that this world was a stage, we the players 
which present the comedie.' See also Mer, of Ven, I, i, 78 : * I hold the world but 
as the world, Gratiano ; A stage where every man must play a part.' [One cannot 
but wonder after reading such notes as these by Steevens, Malone, and Douce, not to 
mention modem editors who have followed them in all seriousness, that it never seems 
to have occurred to these editors to ask themselves what is the legitimate inference to 
be drawn from their adducing such citations, and whether they are not hereby vir- 
tually claiming for such authors as Petronius, or Edwardes, or for Guazzo (almost the 
barrenest and jejunest of writers), a fund of originality which they deny to William 



122 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. vii. 

And all the men and women, meerely Players; 148 

They haue their Exits and their Entrances, 
And one man in his time playes many parts, 150 

His A6ls being feuen ages. At firft the Infant, 

151. At'\As Cap. conj. Dyce iii. 

Shakespeare. — Ed.] Knight: It is scarcely necessary to inquire whether Shake- 
speare found the idea in the Greek epigram: 'Zktjv^ Traj* b pioc, koI naiyvtov. ^ 
fidOe nai^eiVf Tr^ ffirovd^ fieradeiCf ^ ^pe rag 66ivag. — [Palladas, in Atithologia 
GracOy X. Proireptika, No. 72. The idea had aknost passed into a proverb. Halli- 
well says that the comparison of life to the stage < is of constant occurrence in Eng- 
lish writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.' It is therefore needless to 
< shed any more Christian ink ' in compiling what would be merely a bibliography of 
the phrase, and of no particle of use in the illustration of Shakespeare. One other soli- 
tary reference it is worth while to note. In that same collection of items which Oldys 
had gathered for a life of Shakespeare from which we get the anecdote about old 
Adam, see line 176 of this Scene, there is another extract, given by Steevens (Var. 
'21, vol. i, p. 467), as follows: * Verses by Ben Jonson and Shakespeare, occasioned 
by the motto to the Globe Theatre — Tottis mundus agii histriontm, 

Jonson. — ^^ If, but stage actors^ all the world displays, 
" Where shall we find spectators of their plays ?" 

Shakespeare. — ^"^ Little, or much, of what we see, we do ; 
" We are all both actors and spectators too." 

Poetical Characteristics, 8vo, MS, vol. i, some time in the Harleian Library; which 
volume was returned to its owner.* — Ed.] 

148. meerely] That is, absolutely, purely. 

151. His Acts being seuen ages] Steevens: Dr Warburton observes that this 
was ' no unusual division of a play before our author's time ' ; but forbears to offer any 
one example in support of his assertion. I have carefully perused almost every dra- 
matick piece antecedent to Shakespeare, or contemporary with him ; but so far from 
being divided into acts, they are almost all printed in an unbroken continuity of 
scenes. I should add, that there is one play of six acts to be met with, and another 
of twenty-one ; but the second of these is a translation from the Spanish, and never 
could have been designed for the stage. In God^s Promises^ I577» A Tragedie or 
Enterlude (or rather a Mystery) ^ by John Bale, seven acts may indeed be found. It 
should, however, be observed, that the intervals in the Greek Tragedy are known to 
have varied from three acts to seven. Malone: One of Chapman's plays. Two 
Wise Men and Ail the Pest Fools^ is in seven acts. This, however, is the only dra- 
matic piece that I have found so divided. But surely it is not necessary to suppose 
that our author alluded here to any such precise division of the drama. His com- 
parisons seldom run on four feet. It was sufHcient for him that a play was distributed 
into several acts, and that human life long before his time had been divided into 
seven periods. In T%e Treasury of Ancient and Modem Times, 1 61 3, Proclus, a 
Greek author, is said to have divided the lifetime of man into seven ages; over each 
of which, one of the seven planets was supposed to rule : * The Jirst age is called 
Infancy, containing the space of foure years. The second age continueth ten yeares 
until he attaine to the age of fourteene : this age is called Childhood. The third age 



M 



ACT II. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 123 

[His Acts being seuen ages.] 
consisteth of eight yeares, being named by our auncients Adolescencu or Yauthhood; 
and it lasteth fixmi fourteene till two and twenty yeares be fully compleate. The 
fourth age paceth on, till a man have accomplished two and forty yeares, and is 
tearmed Young Manhood, 'Y\iit fifth age^ named Mature Manhood^ hath (according 
to the said author) fiiteene yeares of continuance, and therefore makes his progress 
so far as six and fifty yeares. Afterwards, in adding twelve to fifty-sixe, you shall 
make up sixty-eight yeares, which reach to the end of the sixt age^ and is called Old 
Age, The seavenih and last of these seven ages is limited fiom sixty-eight yeares, so 
far as four-score and eight, being called weak, declining, and Decrepite Age, If any 
man chance to goe beyond this age (which is more admired than noted in many), you 
shall evidently perceive that he will retume to his first condition of Infancy againe.' 
Hippocrates likewise divided the life of man into seven ages, but differs from Proclus 
in the number of years allotted to each period. See Sir Thomas Brown's Enquiries 
into Vulgar and Common Errors^ 1686, p. 173 [Book IV, chap, xii : * Of the great 
climacterical year']. So also in The Diamant of Devotion, Cut and Squared into 
Six Severall Points, by Abraham Fleming, 1586, Part I : * Wee are not placed in this 
world as continuers ; for the scripture saith that we have no abiding citie heere, but 
as travellers and soioumers, whose custome it is to take up a new inne, and to change 
their lodging, sometimes here, sometimes there, during the time of their travell. Heere 
we walke like plaiers uppon a stage, one representing the person of a king, another 
of a lorde, the third of a plowman, the fourth of an artificer, and so foorth, as the 
course and order of the enterlude requireth ; everie acte whereof beeing plaide, there 
is no more to doe, but open the gates and dismisse the assemblie. Even so fareth it 
with us ; for what other thing is the compasse of this world, beautified with varietie 
of creatures, reasonable and unretisonable, but an ample and lai^e theatre, wherein 
all things are appointed to play their pageants, which when they have done, they die, 
and their glorie ceaseth.' Henley : I have seen, more than once, an old print, 
entitled, ' The Stage of Man's Life,' divided into seven ages. As emblematical rep- 
resentations of this sort were formerly stuck up, both for ornament and instruction, in 
the generality of houses, it is more probable that Shakespeare took his hint from 
thence, than from Hippocrates or Proclus. Hunter (i, 341) : The merit of Shake- 
speare is not that he invented this distribution, but that he has exhibited it more bril- 
liantly, more impressively, than had ever been done before. The beauty and tender- 
ness of the thought that life is a kind of drama with intermingling scenes of joy and 
sorrow, together with the justness of the sentiment, would have kept this forever in 
the public view : but the multitude would probably by this time have wholly lost sight 
of the distribution of life into periods, if it had not been embalmed in these never-to- 
be-forgotten lines. If it be asked how Shakespeare became acquainted with this dis- 
tribution of human life, since he certainly did not read Proclus or Hippocrates, nor 
yet Prudentius or Isidore, it might be sufficient to answer that the notion floated in 
society, that it was part of the traditionary inheritance of all, which was no doubt the 
case. But if a printed authority likely to have met his eye is wanted [reference is 
here made by Hunter to Primaudaye's French Academy, 1598, and to * another con- 
temporary with Shakespeare, Sir John Feme,' and the distribution in each case is 
given ; but as these ' distributions,' and all others which are not the same as Shake- 
speare's, are pure surplusage here and now, I have not repeated them. Malone's note 
is given in full because the substance of it has been so often repeated by subsequent 
editors]. Grant White {^Shahespeare's Scholar, p. 247) gives an extract from Eras- 



124 AS you LIKE IT [act ii, sc. viL 

[His Acts being seuen ages.] 
mus's Praise of Folie^ Englished by Sir Thomas Chaloner, 1549, sig. E, iii, in which 
< this life of mortall man ' is likened to < a certain kynde of stage plaie ' in which some- 
times one man * comes in two or three times with simdry partes.' [This same passage 
was afterwards re-discovered by < G. W. T.* in Notes 6* Queries, 1856, 2d Ser. ii, 44 ; 
again in the same volume, p. 207, J. Doran adduced a similar allusion in Calderon.] 
Halliwell cites a poem * clepid the sevene ages ' in the Thornton MS'of the fifteenth 
century in Lincoln Cathedral; also Arnold's Chronicle [ed. 181 1, p. 157, Wright]; 
also a lithographic reproduction of ' the Arundel MS, 83/ ' a highly interesting exam- 
ple executed in England in the early part of the fourteenth century, in which the 
various stages of life are depicted with an artistic merit reflecting great credit on the 
ancient delineator.' He also reproduces a wood-cut from the Orbis Sensualium Pic- 
tuSy 1689, p. 45, in which the figures are placed on no less than eleven steps. Staun- 
ton refers to * some Greek verses attributed to Solon,* * introduced by Philo Judicus 
into his LU>er de Mundi opificio ' ; also to an Italian engraving of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, by Christopher Bertello, where the school-boy is carrying his books, the lover 
bears a branch of myrtle, and at his feet is a young Cupid, the soldier is ' bearded like 
the pard,' the justice has an aspect of grave serenity, the sixth age is a senile person- 
age in a long furred robe, slippered, and with spectacles on nose, the last scene of all 
exhibits the man of eighty, blind and helpless. Staunton also refers to two elaborate 
articles, one in the Archaologia, vol. xxvii ; and the other in The Gentleman's Maga- 
zine for May, 1853 ; and also to a Monumental Brass dated 1487 in the Hdpital S. 
Marie, Ypres, in Belgium. Wright refers to * an interesting paper by Mr Winter 
Jones which he published in the Archaologia, xxxv, 167-189, on a block print of the 
fifteenth century,' wherein a < good deal of the literature of this subject has been col- 
lected ' ; also ' in the Mishna (Aboth, v, 24) fourteen periods are given, and a poem 
upon the ten stages of life was written by the great Jewish commentator, Ibn Ezra. 
The Midrash on Ecclesiastes, i, 2, goes back to the seven divisions. The Jewish 
literature is very fully given by LOw in his Treatise Die Lebensaiter in der jQdischen 
Literatur, and finally Wright refers to ' the pavement of the Cathedral of Siena, of 
which a description is given by Rx>fessor Sidney Colvin in The Fortnightly Review, 
July, 1875, pp. 53, 54.' C. Elliot Browne in Notes 6* Queries, 5th Ser. vol. v, p. 
143, refers to Vaughan's Directions for Health, 1602, and Done's Polydoron, * prob- 
ably published early in the seventeenth century.' [If a picture were in Shakespeare's 
mind, as Henley suggests, and which seems more likely than not, we can understand 
why the number of ages was seven. There were three steps of ascent, the soldier 
stood on the summit, and then followed three steps of descent. Five steps would 
have been too few, and nine would have been too many. — Ed.] 

151. At] Walker {Crit. \, 129) conjectured that this should be as, and included it 
among the instances of as used in the sense of to wit. He was, however, anticipated 
by Capell. I think the emendation is extremely probable. — Ed. 

151, &c. I have found it wellnigh impossible so to divide many of these lines that 
the eye may be guided to the rhythm. It is noteworthy that with the exception of 
the ' school-boy ' all the < ages ' begin in the latter half of a line, an indication of 
the long pause which should precede ; so long, that each of these half lines might 
not improperly form a line by itself, thus beginning a new paragraph. But this gives 
no help rhythmically to the lines that follow, which, in some cases, if the lines are to 
be considered pentameters, remain unalterably trochaic. Indeed, I am not sure that 
it would not be the simpler way to regard the whole of this speech as metric prose, 



ACT II, sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 125 

Mewling, and puking in the Nurfes armes : 152 

Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell 

And fhining morning face, creeping like fnaile 

Vnwillingly to fchoole. And then the Louer, 155 

Sighing like Furnace, with a wofuU ballad 

Made to his Miftreffe eye-brow. Then, a Soldier, 

Full of ftrange oaths, and bearded like the Pard, 158 

153. Then] And then 'Ro'wtn-k-fCii^, 157. a Soldier] the soldier Dyce iii, 
Steev. Ktly, Dyce iii, Wh. ii. Huds. 

exquisitely metric prose; until, toward the close, in harmony with the thought, it 
glides into the solemn cadence that ^nds this stringe eventful history. — Ed. 

154. like snaile] Abbott, § 83 : A'ls still omitted by us in adverbial compounds, 
such as 'snail-like,' 'clerk-like,' &c. Then it was omitted as being unnecessarily 
emphatic in such expressions as : ' creeping like snail,' ' sighing like furnace.' < Like 
snail ' is an adverb in process of formation. It is intermediate between ' like a snail ' 
and ' snail-like.' 

156. Furnace] Malone : So in Cymb. I, vi, 64 : 'a Frenchman .... that, it 
seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home ; he furnaces The thick sighs from him.' 

157. a Soldier] Dyce (ed. iii) : The Folio has ' a Soldier,' but compare elsewhere 
in the present speech ; * the infant,' * the school-boy,' * the lover,* * the justice,' &c. 
This correction was suggested to me by Mr Robson. Hunter (i, 343) : It is the 
great beauty of Shakespeare that he does not give us cold abstractions, but the living 
figures. The blood circulates through them ; it may be quickly or sluggishly, but the 
life-blood is there. They are personations of the abstract idea, borrowed from what 
was the actual life of many Englishmen of the better class in his time, who went to 
the wars and returned to execute the duties and enjoy the quiet majesty of the coun- 
try justice. A nice critic might, however, raise the question, how far it was proper 
thus to introduce the characters of Soldier and Justice, which are not common to all, 
with those accidents of life which belong to all conditions. It might be said that 
they are but spirited personations of the active and sedate periods of manhood, which 
are common to all ; but the proper answer is, that Jaques was a courtier addressing 
courtiers, and he speaks, therefore, of human life as it appeared in one of their own 
class. 

158. strange oaths . . . bearded] To the following passage in Hen. V: III, vi, 
78 Malone refers in illustration of beards^ and Wright in illustration of oaths: 
*And this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new- 
tuned oaths ; and what a beard of the general's cut, and a horrid suit of the camp will 
do .... is wonderful to be thought on.' ' Our ancestors,' says Malone, ' were very 
curious in the fashion of their beards, and a certain cut or form was appropriated to 
the soldier, the bishop, the judge, the clown,' &c. He cites a ballad wherein a sol- 
dier's beard is described as matching <in figure like a spade,' but the date, 1660, is 
rather late to be trusted as a correct description of what is as fickle as fashion. Wright 
explains ' bearded like a pard ' by < long pointed mustaches, bristling like a panther's 
or leopard's feelers.' This, I think, is doubtful. The beard is not the mustaches, or, 
as Stubbes calls them, < the mowchatowes,' showing by the very use of a specific term 
that a distinction was made in Shakespeare's day. Does not the present phrase refer 



126 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc. vii. 

lelous in honor, fodaine, and quicke in quarrell, 

Seeking the bubble Reputation i6o 

Euen in the Canons mouth : And then, the luftice 

In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd, 162 

to the general shagginess characteristic of a true soldier on duty in the field, as distin- 
guished from the trim nicety of a carpet knight, < whose chin new-reap'd shows like a 
stubble-land at harvest home ?' — Ed. 

159. sodaine] Hunter (i, 339) : A semicolon is necessary here, that we may not 
suppose the sense of ' sudden ' to pass over to the next clause, so as to become *■ sud- 
den in quarrel ;' while * sudden ' really stands absolutely. It is the same word which 
we have in Macb. IV, iii, 59 : ' I grant him sudden/ and it seems to be nearly equiva- 
lent to vehement ^ or violent ^ or hasty ^ or perhaps still more txtLC\ly prompt in executing 
a resolve. And this suggests what is a new, but probably the true, sense of the clause 
* quick in quarrel,' adroit in the duello^ not merely quick and spirited in any dispute. 
Halliwell, however, does not acknowledge this distinction, which is to me a good 
one ; he says : 'Accepting *' sudden " in the common sense of rash or precipitate, the 
phrase " sudden and quick " may be considered as intentionally pleonastic' 

i6o. Reputation] Hunter (i, 340) prints this with quotation-marks, regarding it 
as * a favorite word of soldiers, at which the cynical Jaques means to sneer, speaking 
it as a quotation in a contemptuous manner. Thus Feacham : " then at their return 
[as soldiers from the Netherlands], among their companions they must be styled by 
the name of Giptain, they must stand upon that airy title and mere nothing called 
Reputation y undertake every quarrel," &c. — Truth of our Times, p. 140. And so in 
an admirable little work, entitled Vade Mecum, of which the third edition was 
printed in 1638, <* The French in a battle before Moncountre, standing upon their 
Reputation, not to dislodge by night, lost their reputation by dislodging by day." 
This is sufficient to show that there was a military and kind of technical use of the 
word, such as might provoke a satirist ; and in this sense it is that Jaques uses it, 
meaning to deride it. Shakespeare has, in this play, still more pointed satire on the 
affected punctilio of the military profession.' 

162. In] Dyce (ed. iii) : 'Read,' says Mr Lettsom, '.^^ ; and six lines below, 
"In youthful hose." ' I must confess that I think both these alterations imnecessary. 

162. Capon lin'd] Hales (p. 219) : There is an allusion that has been missed in 
the mention of the < capon,' an allusion which adds to the bitterness of a sufficiently 
bitter life-sketch. It was the custom to present magistrates with presents, especially, 
it would seem, with capons, by way of securing their good will and favoiu*. This fact 
heightens the satire of Jaques's portrait of an Elizabethan J. P. It gives force and 
meaning to what seems vague and general. Wither, describing the Christmas season, 
with its burning * blocks,' its * pies,' &c., goes on to sing how : * Now poor men to the 
justices With capons make their errants; And if they hap to fail of these. They 
plague them with their warrants.' That is, the capon was a tribute fiilly expected 
and as good as exacted; it was ' understood ' it should be duly paid in. Singer cites 
a member of the House of Conunons as saying, in 1601 : <A Justice of the Peace is a 
hving creature that for half a dozen chickens will dispense with a dozen of penal 
statutes.' Other illustrations will be found in Davies's Supplementary English Glos- 
sary. [Hales quotes from a letter received from the author of this Glossary y wherein 
a sermon is mentioned], probably preached very early in the seventeenth century, 
which speaks of judges that judge for reward and say with shame, * Bring you ' such 



ACT II, sc. VU.J AS YOU LIKE IT 127 

With eyes feuere, and beard of formall cut, 163 

Full of wife fawes, and modeme inftances, 

And fo he playes his part The fixt age fhifts 165 

as the country calls ' capon justices/ A further illustration of this morally dubious 
custom is to be found in Massinger's Niew Way to Pay Old Debts [IV, ii, where Mr 
Justice Greedy, under promise of a yoke of oxen from Wellborn, drives from his pres- 
ence Tapwell, whose suit, under promise merely of a pair of turkeys, he had at first 
favoured]. 

163. formall cut] That is, cut with due regard to his dignity. It is not to be 
imagined that the nice customs of beards escaped the stem Stubbes. He is particu^ 
larly entertaining in his * anatomie ' of the barber shops : < The barbers/ he says in his 
AnatomU of Abuses ^ 1583 (Part II, p. 50, New Sh. Soc. Reprint), * haue one maner of cut 
called the French cut, another the Spanish cut, one the Dutch cut, another the Italian, 
one the newe cut, another the olde, one of the brauado fashion, another of the meane 
fashion. One a gentleman's cut, another the common cut, one cut of the court, an other 
of the country, with infinite the like vanities, which I ouerpasse. They haue also other 
kinds of cuts innimierable ; and therefore when you come to be trimed, they will aske 
you whether you will be cut to looke terrible to your enimie or aimiable to your freend, 
grime & steme in coimtenance, or pleasant & demure (for they haue diuers kinds of 
cuts for all these purposes, or else they lie). Then, when they haue done al their 
feats, it is a world to consider, how their mowchatowes must be preserued and laid 
out, from one cheke to another, yea, almost from one eare to another, and turned vp 
like two homes towards the forehead.' Harrison, too, has his fling at the fashions of 
beards. On p. 172, ed. 1587, he sa3rs : * Neither will I meddle with our varietie of 
beards, of which some are shauen from the chin like those of Turks, not a few cut 
short like to the beard of marques Otto, some made round like a mbbing brush, other 
with K pique de vant (O fine fashion!) or now and then suffered to grow long, the 
barbers being growen so cunning in this behalfe as the tailors. And therefore if a 
man haue a leane and streight face, a marquesse Ottons cut will make it broad and 
large ; if it be platter like, a long slender beard will make it seeme the narrower ; if 
he be wesell becked, then much heare left on the cheekes will make the owner looke 
big like a bowdled hen, and so grim as a goose, if G)raelis of Chelmeresford saie 
true; manie old men doo weare no beards at all.' — Description of England ^ prefixed 
to Holinshed. 

164. moderne] Steevens : That is, trite^ common. So in IV, i, 7 of this play. 
Dyce : Thai is, trite, ordinary, common. (* Per modo tutto fuor del modern^ uso.' — 
Dante, Purg. xvi, 42, where Biagioli remarks, *ModemOf s'usa qui in senso di ordi- 
nario.^) [It is not worth while to load the page with the various misunderstandings 
of this word, nor with the various passages wherein it occurs. It suffices to say that 
it is now understood to bear throughout the meaning of trite, trivial, commonplace, 
—Ed.] 

164. instances] Schmidt (p. 456) : The fundamental idea of this word in Shake- 
speare is ' proof, sign of the tmth of anything,' and hence it can naturally mean ' a 
single example.' [Schmidt translates ' modem instances ' by 'Allerwelts-Sentenzen.' 
In his Lexicon he gives as the meaning here : *A sentence, a saw, a proverb, anything 
alleged to support one's own opinion.' There are few words in Shakespeare that are 
used with a greater variety of shades of meaning than this. Schmidt seems to be 
correct in his interpretation of it here. — Ed.] 



128 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. vii. 

Into the leane and flipper'd Pantaloone, l66 

With fpe6lacles on nofe, and pouch on fide, 

His youthfull hofe well (au'd, a world too wide, 

For his ftirunke fhanke, and his bigge manly voice. 

Turning againe toward childifh trebble pipes, 170 

And whiftles in his found. Laft Scene of all. 

That ends this ftrange euentfull hiftorie. 

Is fecond childifhneffe, and meere obliuion, 

Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans euery thing. 174 

169. Jhanke] shanks Han. 170. trebbU pipe5'\ trehU, pipes Theob. 

166. Pantaloone] Capell (p. 60, a) : Pantaloon and his mates seem to have 
fomid their way into England about the year 1607 ; the conjecture is founded upon 
an extract from a play of that date intitl'd : Travels of TTiree English Brothers. [This 
extract is found in CapelPs School of Shakespeare ^ p. 66, wherein there is the follow- 
ing dialogue between Kempe and the * Harlaken ' : ^Kemp. Now Signior, how manie 

are you in companie ? Harl. None but my wife and myselfe, sir. Kemp but 

the project come, and then to casting of the parts. Harl. Marry sir, first we will 
have an old Pantaloune. Kemp. Some iealous Coxcombe,' &c.] Steevens refers to 
a curious * Plotte of the deade mans fortune * (reprinted Var. '21, vol. iii, p. 356), 
wherein < the panteloun ' is one of the characters, and in one place we find : *■ to them 
the panteloun and pescode with spectakles,' which Steevens cites in illustration of the 
next line in the present passage, albeit as far as we can see ' pescode ' and not *■ pante- 
loun * may have worn the spectacles. The date of this < plotte ' is unknown, but it may 
be fairly assumed to be older than CapelPs Travels^ &c. Malone, however, discovered 
in Nashe*s Pierce Pennilesse^ &c. 1 592 (p. 92, ed. Grosart) the assertion that 'our 
Sceane is more stately fumisht, .... and not consisting like [the foreign scene] of a 
Pantaloun, a Curtizan, and a 2Uuiie, but of Emperours,* &c., frx>m which it does not fol- 
low that the * Pantaloun * never appeared at all in * our sceane.' Dyce : H Pantalone 
means properly one of the regular characters in the old Italian comedy : < There are 
four standing characters that enter into every piece that comes on the stage, the Doc- 
tor, Harlequin, Pantalone^ and Coviello Pantalone is generally an old cully.'— 

Addison's Remarks on Several Parts of Italy ^ &c. p. loi, ed. 1705. H ALU WELL: 
It is possible that the term may here be applied more generally. Howell, 1660, 
makes a pantaloon synonymous with a < Venetian magnifico.' In Calot's series of 
plates illustrating the Italian comedy is one in which the ancient pantaloon is repre- 
sented as wearing slippers. Cowden-Clarke : A comic character of the Italian 
stage (of Venetian origin, and taken typically of Venice, as Arlechino is of Bergamo, 
Policinello of Naples, StentereUo of Florence, &c.), wearing slippers, spectacles, and 
a pouch, and invariably represented as old, lean, and gullible. Wright : Torriano 
in his Italian Dictionary, 1659, gives, < Pantalone, a Pantalone, a covetous and yet 
amorous old dotard, properly applyed in G>medies unto a Venetian.' 

167. on nose ... on side] For instances of the omission of the after prepositions 
in adverbial phrases, see Abbott, § 90. 

171. his sound] For ' its sound;' for the use of its^ see Abbott, § 228. 

174. Sans] See line 34, above. Halliwell: The present line may have been 



ACT n. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 129 

Enter Orlando with Adam. 175 

Du Sen. Welcome : fet downe your venerable bur- 
then, and let him feede. 177 

175. Scene X. Pope+. 177. and,„feede} Separate line, Rowe 

ii et 5eq. 

suggested by the following description of the appearance of the ghost of Admiral 
Coligny on the night after his murder at the massacre of St. Bartholomew, which 
occurs in Gamier's poem, the Henriade^ 1594^ 'Sans pieds, sans mains, sans nez, 
sans oreilles, sans yeux, Meurtri de toutes parts.' 

176. venerable burthen] Capell (p. 60, 3) : A traditional story was current 
some years ago about Stratford, that a very old man of that place, of weak intellects, 
but yet related to Shakespeare, being asked by some of his neighbors what he remem- 
bered about him, answered, that he saw him once brought on the stage on another 
man's back ; which answer was apply'd by the hearers to his having seen him per- 
form in this scene the part of Adam. That he should have done so is made not 
unlikely by another constant tradition, that he was no extraordinary actor, and there* 
fore took no parts upon him but such as this : for which he might also be peculiarly 
fitted by an accidental lameness, which, as he himself tells us twice in his Sonnets, 
befell him in some part of life ; without saying how, or when, of what sort, or in what 
degree ; but his expressions seem to indicate latterly. [It is well to mark the soiurce 
of this monstrous idea that Shakespeare was lame, because, forsooth, in Sonnet 37 he 
says : < So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,' and *■ Speak of my lameness and 
I straight will halt ' in Sonnet 89. Every now and then, in the revolving years, this 
idea is blazoned forth as new and original by some one who discovers the Sonnets^ — by 
reading them for the first time. Let the original folly rest with Gipell ; few of Shake- 
speare's editors can better afford to bear it. The story (which is a pleasant one, and 
one, I think, we should all like to believe) that Shakespeare acted the part of Adam, 
Steevens, also, found in < the manuscript papers of the late Mr Oldys,' and thus tells it, 
Var. 1793, vol. i, p. 65 :] Mr Oldys had covered several quires of paper with laborious 
collections for a regular life of our author. From these I have made the following 
extracts : * One of Shakespeare's younger brothers, who lived to a good old age, even 
some years, as I compute, after the restoration oiKing Charles 11^ would in his younger 
days come to London to visit his brother Will^ as he called him, and be a spectator 
of him as an actor in some of his own plays. This custom, as his brother's fame 
enlarged, and his dramatick entertainments grew the greatest support of our principal, 
if not of all our theatres, he continued it seems so long after his brother's death as 
even to the latter end of his own life. The curiosity at this time of the most noted 
actors [exciting them — Steeven5\ to learn something fi^m him of his brother, &c., they 
justly held him in the highest veneration. And it may be well believed, as there was 
besides a kinsman and descendant of the family, who was then a celebrated actor among 
them [Charles Hart. See Shakespeare's Will. — Steeveni\y this opportunity made them 
greedily inquisitive into every little circumstance, more especially in his dramatick 
character, which his brother could relate of him. But he, it seems, was so stricken 
in years, and possibly his memory so weakened with infirmities (which might make 
him the easier pass for a man of weak intellects), that he could give them but little 
light into their inquiries ; and all that could be recollected fi^m him of his brother 
Will in that station was, the faint, general, and almost lost ideas he had of having 

9 



130 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii. sc. viu 

Orl. I thanke you mod for him. 178 

Ad. So had you neede, 
I fcarce can fpeake to thanke you for my felfe. 180 

Du, Sen. Welcome, fall too : I wil not trouble you, 
As yet to queftion you about your fortunes : 
Giue vs fome Muficke, and good Cozen, fmg. 183 

once seen him act a part in one of his own comedies, wherein, being to personate a 
decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and appeared so weak and drooping and 
unable to walk, that he was forced to be supported and carried by another person to 
a table, at which he was seated among some company, who were eating, and one of 
them sung a song.' Malone discredits this story as far as the brother of Shakespeare 
is concerned, and, after a heartsome sneer at poor old Oldys, says : From Shake- 
speare's not taking notice of any of his brothers or sisters in his Will, except Joan 
Hart, I think it highly probable that they were all dead in 1616, except her, at least 
all those of the whole blood ; though in the Register there is no entry of the burial 
of his brother Gilbert, antecedent to the death of Shakespeare, or at any subsequent 
period ; but we know that he survived his brother E^dmund. The truth is, that this 
account of our poet's having performed the part of an old man in one of his own 
comedies, came originally from Mr Thomas Jones of Tarbick, in Worcestershire, who 
related it from the information, not of one of Shakespeare's brothers, but of a relation 
of our poet, who lived to a good old age, and who had seen him act in his youth. 
Mr Jones's informer might have been Mr Richard Quine^, who lived in London, and 
died at Stratford in 1656, at the age of 69 ; or of Mr Thomas Quiney, our poet's son- 
in-law, who lived, I believe, till 1663, and was twenty-seven years old when his 
father-in-law died ; or some one of the family of Hathaway. Mr Thomas Hathaway, 
I believe, Shakespeare's brother-in-law, died at Stratford in 1654-5, at the age of 85. — 
Var. 1821 y ii, 286. Halliwell-Phillipps {Outlines, p. 160, 5th ed.) gives the fore- 
going story of Oldys, and adds : This account contains several discrepancies, but there 
is reason for believing that it includes a glimmering of truth which is founded on an 
earlier tradition. Collier (Seven Lectures, 6j*c. by Coleridge, 1856, p. xvi) : I have 
a separate note of what Coleridge once said on the subject of the acting powers of 
Shakespeare, to which I can assign no date ; it is in these words : < It is my persua- 
lion, indeed, my firm conviction, so firm that nothing can shake it — the rising of Shake- 
speare's spirit from the grave, modestly confessing his own deficiencies, could not alter 
my opinion — that Shakespeare, in the best sense of the word, was a very great actor ; 
nothing can exceed the judgement he displays upon that subject. He may not have 
had the physical advantages of Burbage or Field ; but they would never have become 
what they were without his most able and sagacious instructions ; and what would 
either of them have been without Shakespeare's plays ? Great dramatists make great 
actors. But looking at him merely as a performer, I am certain that he was greater 
as Adam, in As You Like It, than Burbage as Hamlet or Richard the Third. Think 
of the scene between him and Orlando ; and think again, that the actor of that part 
had to carry the author of that play in his arms ! Think of having had Shakespeare 
in one's arms ! It is worth having died two hundred years ago to have heard Shake- 
speare deliver a single line. He must have been a great actor.' 

182. to question] That is, by questioning. So, too, I, i, 109; III, v, 66: < Foule 
is most foule, being foule to be z. scoffer,' 1. e. in being. See Abbott, § 356. 



ACT n. sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 131 

Song, 

BloWy blow J thou winter windij 185 

Thau art not fo vnfcinde, as mans ingratitude 
Thy tooth is not/o keene^ becaufe thou art notfeene^ 

although thy breath be rude. 188 

184. Amiens sings. Johns. 187. becaufe... feene] Thou causest not 

186, 187. As four lines, Pope. tktU teen Han. 

186. vnkinde] M alone: That is, thy action is not so contrary to thy kind^ or to 
human natiure, as the ingratitude of man. So in Ven. and Ad. 204 : ' O, had thy 
mother borne so hard a mind, She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.' 
Dyce: That is, unnatural. Halliwell: But the ordinary meaning of the term 
makes here a good, perhaps, a finer, sense. Wright : This literal sense of the word 
[t. e. unnatural] appears to be the most prominent here. 

187. seene] Warburton : This song is designed to suit the Duke*s exiled condi- 
tion, who had been ruined by ungrateful flatterers. Now the * winter wind,' the song 
says, is to be preferred to < man's ingratitude.' But why ? Because it is not seen. 
But this was not only an aggravation of the injury, as it was done in secret, not seen, 
but was the very circumstance that made the keenness of the ingratitude of his faith- 
less courtiers. Without doubt Shakespeare wrote the line thus : < Because thou art 
not sheeny i. e. smiling, shining, like an ungrateful court-servant, who Batters while he 
wounds, which was a very good reason for giving the ' winter wind ' the preference. 
The Oxford editor [t. e. Hanmer] who had this emendation communicated to him, 
takes occasion to alter the whole line thus : < Thou causest not that teen.' But in his 
rage of correction [This, from Warburton. — ^Ed.] he forgot to leave the reason, which 
is now wanting. Why the winter wind was to be preferred to man^s ingratitude. 
Johnson : Warburton's emendation is enforced with more art than truth. That sheen 
signifies shining is easily proved, but when or where did it signify smiling f For my 
part, I question whether the original line is not lost, and this substituted merely to fill 
up the measure and the rhyme. Yet even out of this line, by strong agitation, may 
sense be elicited, and sense not unsuitable to the occasion. < Thou winter wind,' says 
the Duke [^]» ' thy rudeness gives the less pain as thou art not seen^ as thou art an 
enemy that dost not brave us with thy presence, and whose unkindness is therefore 
not aggravated by insult.' Farmer : Perhaps it would be as well to read : < Because 
the hearths not seen,' y* harts^ according to the ancient mode of writing, was easily 
corrupted. Edwards (p. 106) : Shakespeare has equally forgotten, in the next 
stanza, to leave the reason, why vl. freezing sky is to be preferred to 2i forgetful friend ; 
which, perhaps, may give a reasonable suspicion that the word * because ' in the first 
stanza may be corrupt [In quoting this sentence Kenrick (p. 62) suggests that if 
'because' is wrong, 'Shakespeare must use the adverb or preposition disjunctive 
beside.'''] Heath (p. 147) : What the meaning of the common reading may be, it is 
extremely difficult to discover, which gives great ground for suspicion that it may be 
corrupt. Possibly it might be intended to be this : The impressions thou makest on 
us are not so cutting, because thou art an unseen agent, with whom we have not the 
least acquaintance or converse, and therefore have the less reason to repine at thy 
treatment of us. Kenrick (p. 65) : The scoliasts seem to blunder in mistaking the 
sense of the word ' keen,' which they take to signify sharps cuttings piercing ; whereas 



132 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ii, sc viL 

Heigh hoy Jing heigh hOy vnto the greene holly y 

Mojl frendjhip , isfayning ; mojl Louingy me ere folly: 190 

The heigh ho , the holly y 

This Life is mojl iolly. 

Freizeyfreize , thou bitter skie thatdojl not bight fo nigh 

as benefitts forgot : 
Though thou the waters warpey thy fling is notfofharpey 195 

asfreind remembred not. 

Heigh ho yfing , &c. 1 97 

191. The] Then Rowe et seq. 193. bight] bite FjF^. 

193. As two lines, Pope et seq. 196. remembred] remen^*ring Han. 

it only means eager ^ vehement; a sense equally common with the former. The poet 
here speaks only of a keenness of appetite ; he does not mention actual biting till he 
comes to address a more proper and powerful agent. Besides, if < keen ' here means 
sharp, piercing, this line hath the same meaning as [line 195] where the poet is at the 
last stage of his climax. And I think he would hardly be g^lty of such a piece of 
tautology, in the space of so few lines, or address the less severe and powerful agent 
exactly in the same manner as he does that which is more so. Steevens : G>mpare 
Lov^s Lab, Z. IV, iii, Z05 : < Through the veWet leaves the wind. All unseen, can 
passage find.' Malone: Again, in Meas, for Meas. Ill, i, 124: <Tobe imprison'd 
in the viewless winds ^ Harness : I never perceived any difficulty till it was pointed 
out by the commentators, but supposed the words to mean that the inclemency of the 
wind was not so severely felt as the ingratitude of man, because the foe is unseen, /. e. 
unknown, and the sense of injury is not heightened by the recollection of any former 
kindness. Staunton : If change is imperative, one less violent [than Warburton's 
or Farmer's] will afford a meaning quite in harmony with the sentiment of the song ; 
we might read, < Because thou art foreseen^ But the original text is, perhaps, sus- 
ceptible of a different interpretation to that it has received. The poet certainly could 
not intend that the wintry blast was less cutting because invisible ; he might mean, 
however, that the keenness of the wind's tooth was inherent, and not a quality devel- 
oped (like the malice of a false friend) by the opportunity of inflicting a hurt unseen. 
Rev. John Hunter : I have not met with any satisfactory explanation of this line. 
If the text be accurate, I would venture to interpret as follows : < It is not because 
thou art invisible, and canst do hurt in secret and with impunity, that thou bitest so 
keenly as thou dost.' Here I do not regard the expression ' so keen ' as meaning < so 
keen as the tooth of ingratitude.' [It is highly probable that Harness speaks for us 
all, and that our first intimation of a difficulty comes from the commentators. Sufficing 
paraphrases are given, I think, by Dr Johnson, Heath, and Harness. — Ed.] 

189. Heigh ho] White: The manner in which this is said and sung by intelli- 
gent people makes it worth noticing that this is * hey ho !* and not the < heigh, bo !' 
(pronounced high, hot) of a sigh. It should be pronounced hay-ho. 

189. holly] Halliwell: Songs of the holly were current long before the time 
of Shakespeare. It was tiie emblem of mirth. 

Z95. warpe] Kenrick : The surface of such waters as is here meant, so long as 
they remain unfix)zen, is apparently a perfect plane ; whereas when they are fiozen, 



ACT II, sc. vii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 133 

[Though thou the waters warpe] 
this surface deviates from its exact flatness, or warps. This is peculiarly remarkable 
in small ponds, the surface of which, when frozen, forms a regular concave, the ice 
on the sides rising higher than that in the middle. Johnson : To warp is to turn^ 
and to turn is to change : when milk is changed by curdling, we say it is turned ; 
when water is changed or turned by frost, Shakespeare says it is curdled. To be 
warp'd is only to be changed from its natural state. Steevens : Dr Farmer sup- 
poses warfd to mean the same as curdled^ and adds that a similar idea occurs in 
Coricl, V, iii, 66 : * — the icicle That's curdled by the frost.' Holt White : Among 
a collection of Saxon adages in Hickes's Thesaurus^ vol. i, p. 221, the succeeding 
appears : ' winter sceal geweorpan weder,' winter shall warp wcUtr, [See Wright's 
note,/<7j/.] So that Shakespeare's expression was anciently proverbial. Whiter: 
< Warp ' signifies to contract^ and is so used without any allusion to the precise physi- 
cal process which takes place in that contraction. Cold and winter have been always 
described as contracting ; heat and summer as dissolving or softening. The cold is 
said to ' warp the waters ' when it contracts them into the solid substance of ice and 
suffers them no longer to continue in a liquid or flowing state. Nares : It appears 
that to <warp' sometimes was used poetically in the sense of to Tveave, from the 
Toarp which is first prepared in weaving cloth. Hence [the present passage] may be 
explained, ' though thou weave the waters into a firm texture.' Caldecott : In III, 
iii, 80, Jaques says, ' then one of you will prove a shrunk pannel ; and, like green 
timber, warp, warp ;' and from the inequalities it makes in the surface of the earth 
the mo\^-warp (or mole) is so denominated. And see Golding's Oindy II [p. 22 
verso, ed. 1567] : < Hir handes gan warpe and into pawes ylfauordly to grow.' 
' Curvarique manus et aduncos crescere in ungues Gsperunt' [It is proper to repeat 
the foregoing notes here, erroneous in the main though they be, because some of them, 
in whole or in part, are fotmd in modem editions. But the note which supersedes all 
others, and which conclusively determines the meaning, is as follows :] Wright : In 
the Anglosaxon weorpan, or wyrpan^ from which * warp ' is derived, there are the two 
ideas of throwing and turning. By the former of these it is connected with the Ger- 
man werfen, and by the latter with Anglosaxon hiveorfan and Gothic hvairban. 
The prominent idea of the English <warp' is that of turning or changing, from 
which that of shrinking or contracting, as wood does, is derivative. So in Mecu. for 
Meas, I, i, 15, Shakespeare uses it as equivalent to 'swerve,' to which it may be ety- 
mologically akin : < There is our commission From which we would not have you 
warp.* Hence * warped,' equivalent to distorted^ in Lear^ III, vi, 56 : « And here's 
another, whose warp'd looks proclaim What store her heart is made on.' With which 
compare Wint. Tale^ I, ii, 365 : * This is strange : methinks My favour here begins to 
warp.' And AlVs Well, V, iii, 49 : * Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me 
Which warp'd the line of every other favour.' In the present passage Shakespeare 
seems to have had the same idea in his mind. The effect of the freezing wind is to 
change the aspect of the water, and we need not go so far as Whiter, who insists that 
' warp ' here means to contract, and so accurately describes the action of firost upon 
water. A fragment from a collection of gnomic sajrings, preserved in Anglosaxon in 
the Exeter (MS), has been quoted by Holt White and repeated by subsequent com- 
mentators under the impression that it illustrates this passage. This impression is 
founded on a mistake. [White renders the fragment 'winter shall warp water.'] 
But, unfortunately, * water ' is not mentioned, and the word so rendered is ' weather,' 
that is, < fair weather,' and is moreover the subject of the following and not the object 



134 ^S you LIKE IT [act ii, sc. vii. 

DuieSen.I{tii2± you were the good Sir Rowlands fon, 198 
As you haue whifper^d faithfully you were, 
And as mine eye doth his effigies witneffe, 200 

Moft truly limn'd, and liuing in your face, 
Be truly welcome hither : I am the Duke 
That louM your Father, the refidue of your fortune, 
Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man, 
Thou art right welcome, as thy mailers is ; 205 

Support him by the arme : giue me your hand. 
And let me all your fortunes vnderftand. Exeunt 207 

198. 199. were] are Dyce conj. 205. mafters\ F,. 

of the preceding verb. [In Caldecott's quotation from Golding's Oind] the idea of 
bending or tumingi and so distorting, is again the prominent one. We may, therefore, 
miderstand by the warping of the waters either the change produced in them by the 
action of the frost or the bending and ruffling of their surface caused by the wintry 
wind. 

196. remembred not] Capell (p. 61) : This is subject to great ambiguity in this 
place ; as signifying who is not remember*d by his friend, as well as who has no 
remembrance of his friend ; which was sometimes its signification of old, and is so 
here. Malone: < Remember*d ' for remembering. So afterwards. III, v, 136 : 'And 
now I am remembred,' 1. e, 'and now that I bethink me.' Whiter replies to 
Malone : Certainly not. If ingratitude consists in one friend not remembering another, 
it surely must consist likewise in one friend not being remembered by another. So in 
the former line, ' benefits forgot ' by our friend, or our friend forgeUing benefits, will 
prove him equally ungrateful. Moberly : As what an unremembered friend feels-^ 
compendiary comparison. 

199. whisper'd] By the use of this word we are artfully told that the Duke and 
Orlando had carried on a subdued conversation during the music. How old this 
practice is, and what vitality it has !— Ed. 

200. effigies] A trisyllable, with the accent on the second syllable. 

203. residue] By considering the unaccented 1 in the middle of this word as 
dropped, Abbott, § 467, thus scans : * That 16v'd | your father : | the r£si | due ^f | 
your f6rtune.' [Again, I doubt — Ed.] 

205. Thou] Note the change of address to a servant— Ed. 



I* .. 



ACT III. SC. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 13S 



A6lus Tertius . Scena Prima. 

Enter Duke^ Lordsy & Oliuer. 

Du, Not fee him fince ? Sir , fir, that cannot be : 
But were I not the better part made mercie, 
I fhould not feeke an abfent argument 

Of my reuenge, thou prefent : but looke to it, 5 

Finde out thy brother wherefoere he is, 
Seeke him with Candle : bring him dead, or Huing 
Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more 
To feeke a iiuing in our Territorie. 

Thy Lands and all things that thou doft call thine, lO 

Worth feizure, do we feize into our hands, 
Till thou canft quit thee by thy brothers mouth. 
Of what we thinke againft thee, 

01. Oh that your Highneffe knew my heart in this : 
I neuer lou'd my brother in my life, 15 

Duke.More villaine thou. Well pufh him out of dores 

1. The Palace. Rowe. 4. /eeke\fee Ff. 

Duke] Duke junior, dp. Duke 7. with Candle] instantly Cartwright 

Frederick Mai. 8. twelttemonth'] tweluemoneth F^F^. 

2. fee\ seen CoU. (MS) ii, iii, Sing. z6. WeUpuJh'] Well^Pusk Johns. 
KUy, Huds. 

3. the better part] See, for similar omissions of prepositions, Abbott, § 202. Cf. 
<all points,* I, iii, 123. 

4. argument] Johnson : An argument is used for the contents of a book ; thence 
Shakespeare considered it as meaning the subject^ and then used it for subject in yet 
another sense. [Cf. I, ii, 278.] 

5. thou present] Abbott, $ 381 : The participle is sometimes implied in the case 
of a simple word, such as ' being.' 

7. Candle] Steevens : Probably alluding to St Luke, xy, 8. 

zz. seise] The usual legal term for taking possession. It is doubtful, however, 
whether < seizure ' be used in a legal sense, although I am not sure that a nice legal 
point might not be herein detected by a wild enthusiast for the still wilder theory 
that Shakespeare was not the author of these plays. As there can be in strict law no 
< seizure ' until after < forfeiture,' the forfeiture in the case before us is made alternative 
upon Oliver's producing the body of Orlando, in which case a ' verbal seizure ' will 
hold. Clearly, therefore, it is this seizure in posse which is here intended, and not a 
seizure which can follow only conviction and forfeiture ; the term is thus used in its 
strictest, choicest, legal sense, and approves the consummate legal knowledge of 
I should say, Shakespeare.— Ed. 



136 AS you LIKE IT [act iil. sc. i 

And let my officers of fuch a nature 17 

Make an extent vpon his houfe and Lands: 

Do this expediently, and tume him going. Exeunt 19 

18. extent] Lord Campbell (p. 49) : A deep technical knowledge of law is here 
displayed, howsoever it may have been acquired. The usurping Duke wishing all 
the real property of Oliver to be seized, awards a writ of extent against him, in the 
language which would be used by the Lord Giief Baron of the Court of Exchequer, 
an extendi facias applying to house and lands, as a fieri facias would apply to goods 
and chattels, or a capias ad satisfaciendum to the person. [I cannot but think that 
the present is a passage which so far from showing any ' deep technical knowledge of 
law,* shows not much more than the ordinary knowledge (perhaps even a little vague 
at that), which must have been almost universal in Shakespeare's day, when statutes 
merchant and statutes staple were in common use and wont. It may be even pos- 
sible that there is here an instance of that confusion which follows like a fate drama- 
tists and novelists who invoke the law as a Deus ex machind. That Shakespeare is 
wonderfully correct in general is continually manifest. But I doubt if the present be 
one of the happiest examples. Lord Campbell, when he says that the Duke aims at 
Oliver's realty by this writ of extent^ overlooked the fact that the Duke had already 
< seized ' not only all Oliver's realty, but even all his personalty, by an act of arbitrary 
power. After this display on the part of the Duke that he should invoke the aid of 
the sheriff and proceed according to due process of law and apply for a writ of extendi 
faciasy which could only issue on due forfeiture of a recognizance or acknowledged 
debt (under circumstances which had not here occurred), is inconsequential, to say the 
least, and betokens either a confused knowledge of law (which could be only doubt- 
fully imputed to Shakespeare), or an entire indifference to such trivial details or sharp 
quillets which only load without helping the progress of the plot. It was dramatic- 
ally necessary that Oliver should be set adrift, houseless and landless, in order that he 
and Orlando should hereafter meet ; how he was to be rendered hoiiseless and land- 
less was of little moment, the use of a legal term or so would be all-sufficient to create 
the required impression ; officers of the law are ordered to make ' an extent ' upon his 
house and lands, and the end is gained. A < deep technical knowledge ' of the writ 
of extendi facias iti Shakespeare's day would know that with the lands and goods of 
the debtor in cases where the Crown was concerned, as here, the sheriff was com- 
manded to take the body also ; but this would never do in the present case ; Oliver 
must not himself be detained; he has to be sent forth, somewhere to meet with 
Orlando ; either the sheriff will have to apply to the Court for instructions or the writ 
must be radically modified. In short, b it not clear that the law here, as it is in The 
Merchant of Venice^ is invoked merely for dramatic purposes, and was neither intended 
to be shrilly sounded nor technically exact ? — Ed.] 

19. expediently] Johnson: That is, expeditiously. [For other instances of 
' expedient,' in the sense of expeditumSf see Schmidt, s, v.] 



u. 



ACT III. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 137 



Scena Secunda. 



Enter Orlando. 
OrL Hang there my verfe, in witneffe of my loue, 
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night furuey 
With thy chafte eye, from thy pale fpheare aboue 
Thy Huntreffe name, that my full life doth fway, S 

O Rofalindy thefe Trees fhall be my Bookes, 
And in their barkes my thoughts He charradler, 
That euerie eye, which in this Forreft lookes, 
Shall fee thy vertue witneft euery where. 

Run, run Orlando^ carue on euery Tree, 10 

The faire, the chafte, and vnexprefliue fhee. Exit 

I. The Forrest. Rowe. 3. thrice cr<rumed'\ thrice - crowned 
Orlando] with a Paper, dp. Theob. et seq. 

5. name"] fame Anon. 

3. thrice crowned Queene] Johnson : Alluding to the triple character of Proser- 
pine, Cynthia, and Diana, given by some mythologists to the same goddess, and com- 
prised in these memorial lines : < Terret, lustrat, agit ; Proserpina, Luna, Diana ; Ima, 
supema, feras ; sceptro, fulgore, sagittis^' Singer : Shakespeare was doubtless famil- 
iar with Chapman's Hymns^ and the following from Hymnus in Cynthiam^ I594> niay 
have been in his mind : *■ Nature's bright eye-sighty and the night's fair soul, That with 
thy triple forehead dost control Earth, seas, and hell.' [Although this has been 
repeated by four or five subsequent editors, I fail to detect any grounds for the suppo- 
sition that Shakespeare had ever seen the passage. — Ed.] 

5. Thy Huntresse name] Cowden-Clarke: Orlando calls his mistress one of 
Diana's huntresses, as being a votaress of her order ; a maiden lady, a virgin princess. 
Just as Hero is styled the < virgin knight ' of the < goddess of the night.' 

5. tway] Stkevens: So in Twelfth A''. II, v, 118: * M, O, A, I, doth sway my 
life.' 

II. vnezpressive] Johnson: For inexpressible. Malone: Milton also :* With 
ttnexpressive notes to Heaven's new-bom Heir.' — Hymn to the Nativity ^ 116. Cal- 
DECOTT quotes LycidaSy 176: 'And hears the tmexpressive nuptial song.' Walker 
{Crit. i, 179) gives many instances of adjectives in -vve that <are frequently used by 
Shakespeare and his contemporaries, so to speak, in a passive sense.' On p. 182 he 
asks : * Did this usage originate in the unmanageable length of some of the adjectives 
in able and t^Zr, as umuppressibUy uncomprehensible f* The corresponding section in 
Abbott is % 3. 

II. shee] For other instances where he and she are used for man and woman^ see 
Abbott, § 224. See line yj^^post. 



138 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

Enter Corin & Clowne. 12 

Co. And how like you this (hepherds life Mr Touchjlone^ 

Clow, Truely Shepheard, in refpedl of it felfe, it is a 
good life ; but in refpedl that it is a shepheards life, it is 15 

naught. In refpedl that it is folitary, I like it verie well : 
but in refpedl that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now 
in refpedl it is in the fields, it pleafeth mee well : but in 
refpedl it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a fpare 
life(looke you) it fits my humor well : but as there is no 20 

more plentie in it, it goes much againft my ftomacke. 
Has't any Philofophie in thee fhepheard ? 

Cor. No more, but that I know the more one fickens, 
the worfe at eafe he is : and that hee that wants money, 
meanes, and content, is without three good frends . That 25 

the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That 
pood pafture makes fat flieepe : and that a great caufe of 
the night, is lacke of the Sunne : That hee that hath lear- 
ned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good 
breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. 30 

Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philofopher : 

12. Scene III. Pope + . 27. pood'\ F,. 

13. Mr\ M, FjF^. master Steev. et 29, 30. good*., or] bad breedings and 
seq. Han. gross... or Warb. 

22. HasU] Hast Pope. 31, 32. Prose, Pope et seq. 

22, 32. Has't . . . Was't] For instances of the omission of the pronoun, see 
Abbott, $401. 

29. complaine of] Johnson : I am in doubt whether the custom of the language 
in Shakespeare's time did not authorise this mode of speech, and make < complain of 
good breeding * the same with < complain of the want of good breeding.' In the last 
line of the Mer. of Ven. we find that to * fear the keeping ' is to ' fear the not keep- 
ing.' Capell : May complain of it for being no better, or for having taught them no 
better. Whiter : This is a mode of speech conmion, I believe, to all languages, and 
occurred even before the time of Shakespeare : EZ r* hp^ fty* evx<^^ iirifikfi^era^, elff 
ixard/iPTjc. — It. i, 65 — * Whether he complains of the want of prayers or of sacrifice.' 

31. naturall] Warburton : The shepherd had said all the philosophy he knew 
was the property of things, that < rain wetted,' < Bre burnt,' &c. And the Clown's 
reply, in a satire on physicks or natural philosophy, though introduced with a quibble, 
is extremely just. For the natural philosopher is indeed as ignorant (notwithstanding 
all his parade of knowledge) of the efficient cause of things as the rustic. It appears, 
from a thousand instances, that our poet was well acquainted with the physicks of his 
time; and his great penetration enabled him to see this remediless defect of it. 
Steevens: Shakespeare is responsible for the quibble only; let the commentator 
answer for the refinement. Mason : The clown calls Corin a < natural philosopher,' 



ACT III, sc. u.] AS YOU LIKE IT 139 

Was't euer in Court, Shepheard? 32 

Car. No truly. 

Clo. Then thou art damn'd. 

Cor. Nay, I hope. 35 

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roafled Egge, 
all on one fide. 

Car. For not being at Court ? your reafon. 

Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer 
faw'ft good manners : if thou neuer faVft good maners, 40 

32, 39. wa^f] Ff, Rowc. wast Pope. 35. hope."] hope — Rowe et seq. 

because he reasons from his observations on nature. Malone : A natural being a 
common term for a fool, Touchstone, perhaps, means to quibble on the word. Cal- 
DECOTT : So far as reasoning from his observations on nature, in such sort a philoso- 
pher ; and yet as having been schooled only by nature, so far no better than a fool, a 
motley fool. [See I, ii, 51.] 

36, 37. Truly . . . side] Johnson : Of this jest I do not fully comprehend the 
meaning. Steevens : There is a proverb that ' a fool is the best roaster of an egg, 
because he is always turning it.* This will explain how an egg may be * damn'd 
all on one side ' ; but will not sufficiently show how Touchstone applies his similie 
with propriety ; unless he means that he who has not been at court is but half edu- 
cated. Malone : Touchstone only means to say that Corin is completely damn'd ; as 
irretrievably destroyed as an egg that is utterly spoiled in the roasting, by being done 
all on one side only. [It is by no means easy to decide here on the best punctuation. 
It is likely, I think, that it was the punctuation of the Folios which misled Dr John- 
son and prevented him from seeing that < all on one side ' applies to the egg and not 
to the < damn'd.' An illustration of the perplexity which may attend the placing of 
even a comma is to be found in the texts of the Cambridge Edition, of the Globe, and 
of the Clarendon. In the first and second the text is punctuated : < Thou art damned 
like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side,' which is not good, and would not have helped 
Dr Johnson. In the Clarendon Edition, however, Wright, improving on the Cam- 
bridge and Globe texts, thus punctuates : < Thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg 
all on one side,' which would have made the jest as clear to Dr Johnson as it does to 
us all. — Ed.] 

39, &c. Warburton : This reasoning is drawn up in imitation of Friar John's to 
Panurge in Rabelais : < Si tu es cocqu. Ergo ta femme sera belle. Ergo seras bien 
traict^ d'elle : Ergo tu auras des amys beaucoup ; ergo tu seras saulu6 ' [Liv. Ill, 
cbi^. xxviii. Although there is no good ground for supposing that there is any con- 
nection here between Shakespeare and Rabelais, yet it is worth while to note all 
these parallelisms; they have lately attracted attention at home and in Germany. 
—Ed.]. 

40. maners] Caldecott {App. p. 19) : Good manners (and manners meant 
moralsy no such term as morals being to be found in the dictionaries of these times) 
signified urbanity or civility, t. e. cultivated, polished manners as opposed to rusticity, 
t. e, coarse, unformed, clownish, or iU-manners, He, then, that has only good prin- 
ciples and good conduct, without good breeding and civility, is short of perfection by 
the half; and for want of this other half of that good^ which is necessary to salvation. 



I40 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

then thy manners muft be wicked, and wickednes is fin, 41 

and finne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous ftate fhep- 
heard. 

Cor. Not a whit Touch/lone , thofe that are good ma- 
tters at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as 45 
the behauiour of the Countrie is moft mockeable at the 
Court You told me, you falute not at the Court, but 
you kiffe your hands; that courtefie would be vncleanlie 
if Courtiers were fhepheards. 

Clo. Inftance, briefly : come, inftance. 50 

Cor. Why we are ftill handling our Ewes, and their 
Fels you know are greafie, 

Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands fweate ? and 
is not the greafe of a Mutton, as wholefome as the fweat 54 

42. parlous] patulous Cap. 44. are] have F F^, Rowe i. 

44. Touchftone] Mr. Touchstone Cap. 54. a"] Om. F^F^, Rowe, Pope, Han. 

Master Touchstone Dyce Hi, Huds. 

or the perfect man, is like a half-roasted egg, damn'd on one side. The earlier sense 
of the word manners, as * manners makyth man,' the motto of William of Wykeham 
(and familiar to us almost as the Bible translation of the passage in Euripides : < Evil 
communications corrupt good manners '), occurs in the works of an old pedagogue : 
* I wyll somewhat speke of the scholer's maners or duty : for maners (as they say) 
maketh man. De discipulorum moribus pauca contexam. Nam mores (ut aiunt) 
hominem exomant.' — Vulgaria, Robert! Whittintoni, 1521. As it does in Milton's 
AreopagUica : ' That also, which is impious or evil absolutely against faith or manners, 
DO law can possibly permit, that tends not to unlaw itself.' 

42. parlous] RiTSON (p. 133) : A corruption of perilous, Dyce also gives alarm- 
ing^ amazing, keen, shrewd. CoLLiER suggests that it may even sometimes mean 
talkative, * as in Day's Law TVichs, z6o8 : "A parlous youth, sharp and satirical.*' 
Perhaps, being '* sharp and satirical," the youth was on that Accovmi perilous or " par- 
lous." ' Wright : The spelling represents the pronunciation. 

44. Not a whit] Wright : As * not ' is itself a contraction of nAwiht or nawhit, 
not a whit ' is redundant. 

44. Touchstone] See Textual Notes. Dyce: Capell is doubtless right The 
Folio omits Master, But compare Corin's first speech in this scene; and let us 
remember that the word Master, being often expressed in Mss by the single letter 
M, might easily be omitted. [How if Shakespeare intended to indicate increasing 
familiarity on the part of tiie shepherd ? — Ed.] 

47. but] Abbott, § 125 : That is, without kissing your hands. 

51. still] That is, constantly. See Shakespeare, /oxn'm. 

52. Fels] A word of common occurrence in this country. From the fact that 
Wright has an explanatory note, and cites Florio, Chapman, and the Wiclifite Ver- 
sion of Job, it is to be inferred that the word is measurably lost in England. — ^Ed 

54. a Mutton] Compare 'As flesh of muttons.' — Mer. of Ven, I, iii, 172. 



ACT III. sa ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 141 

of a man? Shallow, (hallow: A better inflance I fay : 55 

Come. 

Cor. BefideSjOur hands are hard. 

Clo. Your lips wil feele them the fooner. Shallow a- 
gen : a more founder inftance, come. 

Cor. And they are often tarred ouer, with the furgery 60 

of our (heepe : and would you haue vs kiffe Tarre ? The 
Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet 

Clo. Moft (hallow man : Thou wormes meate in re- 
fpefl of a good peece of fle(h indeed : leame of the wife 
and perpend : Ciuet is of a bafer birth then Tarre, the 65 

verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat Mend the inftance Shep- 
heard. 

Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, He reft. 

Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd? God helpe thee (hallow 
man : God make incifion in thee, thou art raw, 70 

Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I eame that I eate : get 
that I weare ; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happi- 72 

59. more\ Om. Pope, Han. 63. wormes tneat'\ worms-meat Rowe. 

60. ouer^ witk\ overunth F . 64. /UJh indeed :\fieshj indeed! Theob, 

62. Courtiers'] Countiers F^. Warb, Jlesh — indeed I — Johns. Jlesh : 

63. Jhallow man .•] shallow y man : Indeed! — Steev. 
Rowe. shallow man ! Theob. indeed] ndeed F,. 

59. more sounder] For other instances of double comparatives, see Abbott, § 1 1. 

63. wormes meate] Wright : It is not impossible that this expression may have 
struck Shakespeare in a book which he evidently read, the treatise of Vincentio 
Saviolo, in which [ The 2. Booke^ between sig. G g 3 and H] a printer's device is found 
with the motto : *0 wormes meate. O froath : O vanitie. Why art thov so 

INSOLENT.* 

65. perpend] Schmidt : A word used only by Polonius, Pistol, and the Gowns. 

66. Cat] Cotgrave: 'Civette: f. Ciuet; also (the beasts that breeds it) a Ciuet 
cat* 

70. incision] Heath (p. 147) : That is, God give thee a better understanding ; 
thou art very raw and simple as yet. The expression probably alludes to the common 
proverbial saying, concerning a very silly fellow, that he ought to be cut for the sim- 
ples. Caldecott : That is, enlarge, open thy mind. Collier : Heath's explana- 
tion seems supported by the next speech of Touchstone, < That is another simple sense 
in you.' Grant White : The meaning of this phrase, which evidently had a well- 
known colloquial significance, has not been satisfactorily explained. Heath's expla- 
nation is the more plausible ; but the meaning has probably been lost. Wright : The 
reference is to the old method of cure for most maladies by blood-letting. 

70. raw] Malone : That is, thou art ignorant, inexperienced. [This word it is 
which, to me, throws a doubt on the explanations that have been offered of ' incision.* 
—Ed.] 



142 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

neffe : glad of other mens good content with my harme : 73 

and the greateft of my pride, is to fee my Ewes graze, & 

my Lambes fucke. 75 

Clo. That is another fimple fmne in you, to bring the 
Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your 
liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Bel- 
weather, and to betray a (hee-Lambe of a tweluemonth 
to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all 80 

reafonable match. If thou bee'ft not damn'd for this, the 
diuell himfelfe will haue no (hepherds, I cannot fee elfe 
how thou (houldfl fcape. 

Cor. Heere comes yong yi'Ganimed^ my new Miftrif- 
fes Brother. 85 

Enter Rofalind. 
Rof, From the eajl to wejleme Inde^ 
no iewel is like Ro/alindej 
Hir worth being mounted on the winde^ 

through all the world beares Ro/alinde. 90 

All the piilures fairejl Linde^ 

are but blacke to Ro/alinde : 92 

73. ^'iW] ^<W, Ff et seq. 86. Enter...] Enter.. .with a paper. 

78. bawd"] a bawd¥^^y Rowe + . Rowe. 

79. tweluemonth'] twetvetwrneth F^. 87. weileme] the western Pope, Han. 
twelve-month old Han. Inde] Jude F^. 

82. elf el Om. F,F^, Rowe. 89. Hir] F,. 

84. yong] Om. F^F^, Rowe. 90. beares] beards F^. 

Mr\M.Y^, wAf/^ Steev. et seq. 91. Linde] F,F^. Lind F^, Rowe. 

84, 85. Mijlrijfes] mistres^ Cald. Knt, limned Johns. Cap. Mai. '90. lUCd Pope 

Wh. i. et cet 

86. Scene IV. Pope+. 

73. harme] Knight : Resigned to any evil. Rolfe : * Patient in tribulation.' 
84. Mistrisses] Keightley (Exp, 159) : Though it stands thus in the Folio, 

metre and the usage of the time reject the i, \Aliquando dormitat^ &c. There is no 

metre here to demand a change. — Eo.] 

87. Inde] Walker {Crit. iii, 62) : This is the old pronunciation of Ind^ or rather, 
as in the Folio, Inde, Fairfax's Tasso^ B. v, st. lii, <And kill their kings from ^ypt 
unto Inde,' rhyming with mindznd. inclined: and so 6. vii, st XxiHy Jinde^Inde—binde. 
Spenser, Faerie Queene, B. i, C. v, st. iv, Ynd (Ind), rhyming with bynd vid assynd. 
And so C. V, St. ii, behind^ unkind^ find, Ynd. Drayton, Pofy-olbum, Song ii, < ships 
That from their anchoring bays have travelled to find Large China's wealthy realmes, 
and view'd the either Inde.' Sylvester's Dubartas, ii. ii. ii. ed. 1641, p. 124, • Mqre 
golden words, than in his crown there shin'd Pearls, diamonds, and other gems of 
Inde.' Carew, ed. Clarke, cxxi, p. 164, < Go I to Holland, France, or furthest Inde, 
I change but only countries, not my mind.' Did not Milton thus pronounce it. Par, 



ACT III, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 143 

Let no face bee kepi in ndnd^ 93 

but the f aire of Rofalinde. 

Clo. He rime you fo, eight yeares together ; dinners, 95 

and fuppers, and fleeping hours excepted : it is the right 
Butter-womens ranke to Market 97 

94. faire of] mod fair F,F^, Rowe i. Var. *2I, Cald. Knt, Sing. Hal. Ktly, 

face of Rowe ii+, Cap. Dyce iii, Huds. Coll. iii. 

fair face of Ktiy conj. 97. ranke'\ rate Han. Johns. Steev. 

97. wometu] womatCs Johns. Steev. Mai. canter Cartwright. 

Z, ii, 2 ? — * High on a throne of royal state, that far Outshone the wealth of Ormus or 
of Ind.* Wright : In Lcv^s Lab, Z. IV, iii, 222, * Inde * rhymes with * hlind.' 

91. Linde] Steevens: That is, most fairly delineated. Whiter: The most 
beautiful lines or touches exhibited by art are inferior to the natural traits of beauty 
which belong to Rosalind. 

93f 94< fi^c® • • • fairc] Steevens : < Fair ' is beauty , complexion. Compare 
Lodge's Novel: 'Then muse not nymphes, though I bemone The absence of faire 
Rosalynde, Since for her faire there is fairer none.' [See Appendix, Rosalyndes 
Description ; in Rosader*s Third Sonnet * faire ' is four times used in the sense of 
beauty. Walker {Crit. i, 327) proposed to retid fair in line 93; Dyce, who followed 
Rowe in reading y^r^ in line 94, objected to it on account of ' fairest ' just above. Both 
changes. Rowers and Walker's, are plausible and attractive, but we ought alwajrs reso- 
lutely to set our fair faces against any change which is not imperatively demanded ; 
as Dr Johnson says, the compositors who had Shakespeare's text before them are more 
likely to have read it right than we who read it only in imagination. — Ed.] 

96. right] True, exact, downright. See line iig, post, <the right vertue of the 
Medler.' 

97. ranke] Grey (i, 180) : A friend puts the qu. If < butter-woman's rant at 
market ' might not be more proper. Capell (p. 61) : * Rank ' means the order 
observ'd by such women; travelling all in one road, with exact intervals between 
horse and horse. Steevens : The sense designed might have been, it is such wretched 
rhyme as the butter-woman sings as she is riding to market. So, in Churchyard's 
Charge, 1 5 80, *And use a kinde of riding rime.* Again in his Farewell from the 
Courte : <A man maie, says he, use a kinde of ridyng rime* [Steevens also refers 
to the Scotch rcUt rime, which Jamieson, j. v., defines as ' any thing repeated by rote, 
especially if of the doggerel kind.'] Henley : The clown is here speaking in ref- 
erence to the ambling pace of the metre, which, after giving a specimen of, to prove 
his assertion, he affirms to be ' the very false g^lop of verses.' Malone : A passage 
in Airs Well, IV, i, 44 : < Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and 
buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils,' once induced 
me to think that the volubility of the butter-woman selling her wares at market was 
alone in our author's thoughts, and that he wrote * rate at market ' [which is a modi- 
fication of the emendation proposed by Grey's ' friend.'— Ed.] ; but I am now per- 
suaded that Hanmer's emendation is right. The hobbling metre of these verses (sajrs 
Touchstone) is like the ambling, shuffling pace of a butter-woman's horse, going to 
market. The same kind of imagery is found in / Hen, IV: III, i, 134: 'mincing 
poetry ; 'Tis like the forced gait of a shufHing nag.' Whiter (p. 30) : If rate con- 



144 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

[ Butter- womens ranke to Market] 
veys a sense suitable to the occasion, 'rank' will certainly be preferable; as it 
expresses the same thing with an additional idea; and perhaps the very idea in 
which the chief force of the comparison is placed. * The right Butter- women's rank 
to market' means ih^ jog-trot rate (as it is vulgarly called) with which Butter- women 
uniformly travel one after another in their road to market ; in its application to Orlan- 
do's poetry, it means a set or string of verses in the same coarse cadence and vulgar 
uniformity of rhythm. Caldecott : In the same sense we have, * The rank of 
oziers by the murmuring stream.' — IV, iii, 83. [To Steevens's instances of riding 
rhymes Caldecott adds from Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, p. 76, ed. Arber :] 

* Chaucer's other verses of the Canterbury Tales be but riding ryme, neuerthelesse very 
well becomming,' &c. [Guest {Hist, of Eng. Rhythms, vol. ii, p, 238) says : * The 
metre of Bve accents with couplet rhyme, may have got its earliest name of * riding 
rhyme ' from the mounted pilgrims of the Canterbury Tales.' — Ed.] Knight : We 
think that Whiter's explanation is right; and that Shakespeare, moreover, had in 
mind the pack-horse roads, where one traveller must follow another in single rank, 
"Walker (CW/. iii, 62) : Not, I think, * rhyme * (rime — ranke), on account of the 
repetition. [This I do not understand. — Ed.] At any rate, rank is wrong. [To 

this Lettsom adds the following foot-note :] ' Rank,' no doubt, is rank nonsense 

Hanmer's rate seems to me the genuine word. Even Whiter pays it an involuntary 
homage, when he explains rank as ' the jog-trot rate with which butter-women uni" 
formly travel one after another in their road to market ' ; [This shows that Lettsom had 
not looked up Whiter's note in the original, but had taken the final sentence, which 
alone is given in the Var. of '21. — Ed.] <one after another' is added to save 'rank,' 
as if rank m.t9jA file. Butter-women, going each from her solitary farm to the nearest 
market-town, would travel most of their way alone, and the critics, I suspect, would 
never have dreamt of drawing them up in rank or file, if they had not had a conjec- 
ture to attack. [Dyce, after quoting this note, quietly adds { For my own part, I think 
< rank ' the true reading.] Halliwell : The term ' rank ' is of constant occurrence 
in the sense of range, line, file, order ; in fact, to [sic"] any things following each other. 
Thus Browne, Britannia's Pctstorals, speaks of trees 'circling in a ranke.' The 
more common meaning is row. ' Range all thy swannes, faire Thames, together on a 
rancke.' — Drayton's Shepherd'' s Garland, 1593. * There be thirty egges laide in a 
rancke, every one three foote from another.' — Hood's Elements of Arithmeticke, 1596. 

* Short be the rank of pearls circling her tongue.' — Cotgrave's Wits Interpreter, 1671. 
Staunton : Whiter's explanation is not satisfactory. From a passage m Dra]rton'8 
poem. The Shepherd'' s Sirena, it might be inferred that < rank ' was a familiar term 
for chorus or rhyme : < On thy bank. In a rank. Let thy swans sing her.' And * but- 
ter-women's rank ' may have been only another term for verse which rhymed in coup- 
lets, called of old * riding ryme.' Dyce ( Gloss.) quotes this note of Staunton, and 
adds, * but by *' rank " Drayton assuredly means row.* Collier (ed. i) : ' Rank,' as 
Whiter observes, means the order in which they go one after another, and therefore 
Shakespeare says, * butter- women's,' and not butter-woman's, as it has been corrupted 
of late years. Wright : That is, going one after another, at a jog-trot, like butter- 
women going to market. This seems to be the meaning, if ' rank ' is the true read- 
ing. It is open to the rather pedantic objection that it makes < rank ' equivalent to 
file. But it may be used simply in the sense of order. I am inclined to consider 
rack to be the proper word, and I would justify this conjecture by the following quo- 
tations from Cotgrave's Fr. Diet. : 'Amble : f. An amble, pace, racke ; an ambling or 




ACT III, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 145 

Rof. Out Foole. 98 

Clo. For a tafte. 

If a Hart doe lacke a Hindi J 100 

Let him feeke out Rofalinde : 
If the Cat will after kinde^ 

fo be fure will Rofalinde : 
Wintred garments mufl be lindij 

fo muflflender Rofalinde : 105 

They that reap muflfheafe and binde^ 

then to cart with Rofalinde. 
Sweetefl nut^ hathfowrefl rinde^ 

fuch a nut is Rofalinde. 
He thatfweetefl rofe willfindey 1 10 

mustfinde Loues prickey & Rofalinde. 

This is the verie falfe gallop of Verfes, why doe you in- 

fe£l your felfe with themf 1 13 

loo-iiz. In sens, obsc In re. JHnde, qno Rosa, induta est, fortane tignificatnr. 

cLAf.c/y. I, iii, 88. In re. /ifufe, hoc ^£d. 

▼erbo congressus caninus significabatm', 100. doe] dafA Rowe+. 

V. Cotgrave, s. v, Ligner; immo hodie Z04. Wintred] F^ Cald. Knt, C6IL {» 

▼erbum sic usum est. In re. cart^ quaere "Wh. i, Hal. Winter F^F^ ct cet 

symbolum incontinentia^ ? cf. < rascal bea- linde] lin'd F^. 

die,' &c., Lear, IV, vi, 158, et Tam. SAr. 108. nut] meat r,F^ Rowe. 
I, i, 55. In 11. 108, 109, vestimentum virile, 

racking pace; a smooth or easie gate.' 'Ambler. To amble, pace; racke; to go 
easily and smoothly away.' In Holme's Arrmmry (6. ii, c. 10, p. 150) < rack ' is thus 
defined : ' Rack is a pace wherein the horse neither Trots or Ambles, but is between 
both.' [Since no change free from objections has been proposed, it seems to me 
safest to retain the original. — Ed.] 

102. Cat . . . kinde] Halliwell gives half a dozen instances of the use of ' this 
old proverbial phrase,' and more could be added. 

104. Wintred] White : See the following instance of the use of this participial 
adjective in a passage quoted from A Knack to Knew a Knave [circa, 1590] by 
Collier in his History of Eng. Dram, Poetry [ii, 421, ed. 1879] : * Now shepherds 
bear their flocks into the folds. And wint'red oxen, fodder'd in their stalls,' &c. 
Wright : Compare < azured ' in 7^ Tempest, V, i, 43, and perhaps ' damask'd ' in 
Sonnet cxxx, 5. [While fully agreeing with Grant White's opinion that 'wintred ' is 
to be here preferred, I doubt the parallelism of his example. < Wintred garments ' are 
exposed to the winter ; * wint'red oxen ' are protected from the winter. — ^Ed.] 

112. false gallop] M alone: So in Nashe's [Foure Letters Confuted, p. 202, ed. 

Grosart] : * I would trot a false g^lop through the rest of his ragged Verses, but that 

if I should retort his rime dogrell aright, I must make my verses (as he doth his) nm 

hobling like a Brewers Cart vpon the stones, and obserue no length in their feete.* 
zo 



146 AS YOU LIKE IT [act tii. sc. ii. 

Rof. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree. 

Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite. 1 1 5 

Rof. He graffe it with you, and then I (hall graffe it 

with a Medler : then it will be the earlieft fruit i'th coun- 1 17 

\ 1 

^^^ ' Hunter (i, 348) quotes as follows from Dictionnaire RaisonrU d^ Hippiatrique^ &c. 

par M. Lafosse, 1776, i, 334 : * Galoper faux, se dit du cheval lorsqu' en galopant il 
live la jambe gauche de devant la premiere, car il doit lever la droite la premiere/ 
[The phrase is thus understood, and still used, by horsemen at this day. — Ed.] 

112. infect] This is strong language — strong for the occasion and strong for the 
speaker. It is strange that this passage has escaped those who seem to think that 
Shakespeare wrote his plays solely for a chance to make local allusions or to poke sly 
fun or worse at his contemporaries. Indeed, a very pretty case could be made out for 
them here, proving beyond a perad venture that Shakespeare is referring to Nashe's quar- 
rel with Gabriel Harvey, and here indicates in terms too plain to be misunderstood that 
he sympathised with Nashe. In this very paragraph in Nashe, quoted in the preced- 
ing note by Malone, where the unusual phrase * false gallop * occurs (and mark, it is the 
ONLY TIME that either Shakespeare or Nashe uses it !) Nashe does not conclude his 
sentence without using the very identical, unusual, strong word that Touchstone uses 
here. After saying, as we have just seen, that his verses would * observe no length in 
their feet,* he goes on to say, * which were absurdum per absurdius^ TO infect my 
vaine with his imitation.' Surely the case is clear that Shakespeare, by using * false 
gallop' and Mnfect,' is alluding to Nashe. Can mortal man desire better proof? 
Here in one and the same paragraph we have these two unusual words! As 
Chief Justice Kenyon, whose classical quotations sometimes lacked the exactest 
parallelism, is said to have been wont to say : < Gentlemen, the case is as clear as the 
nose on your face ; latet anguis in herbA.'' — Ed. 

1 16. graffe] Skeat (s. v.) : The form p'afi is corrupt, and due to a confusion 
with graffed^ which was originally the past participle of * graff.' Shakespeare has 
l^aftedy Macb. IV, iii, 51 ; but he has rightly also * graft ' as a past participle. Rich. 
Ill: III, vii, 127. The verb is formed from the substantive graffe a scion. Old 
French, graffe^ grafe, a style for writing with a sort of pencil ; whence French, greffe^ 
• a graff, a slip or young shoot.' — Cotgrave ; so named from the resemblance of the 
cut slip to the shape of a pointed pencil. Similarly, we have Lat. graphiolum (i), a 
small style ; (2), a small shoot, scion, graflf. 

117. Medler] Beisly (p. 32) : The Mespilus germanica^ a tree, the fruit of which 
is small, and in shape like an apple, but fiat at the top, and only fit to be eaten when 
mellow or rotten. Ellacombe (p. 123) : The medlar is a European tree, but not a 
native of England ; it has, however, been so long introduced as to be now completely 
naturalised, and is admitted into the English flora. Chaucer gives it a very promi- 
nent place in his description of a beautiful garden ; and certainly a fine medlar tree 
< ful of blossomes ' is a handsome ornament on any lawn. Shakespeare only used the 
common language of his time when he described the medlar as only fit to be eaten 
when rotten. But, in fact, the medlar when fit to be eaten is no more rotten than a 
ripe peach, pear, or strawberry, or any other fruit which we do not eat till it has 
reached a certain stage of sofhiess. There is a vast difference between a ripe and a 
rotten medlar, though it would puzzle many of us to say when a fruit (not a medlar 
only) is ripe, that is, fit to be eaten. These things are matters of taste and fashion, 
and it is rather surprising to find that we are accused, and by good judges, of eating 



ACT ni, sc. iL] AS YOU LIKE IT 147 

try : for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's 1 1 8 
the right vertue of the Medler. 

Clo. You haue faid : but whether wifely or no, let the 120 
Forreft iudge. 

Enter Celia with a writing, 
i?^ Peace, here comes my fifter reading, (land afide. 
Cel. Why Jhould this Defert bee , 

far it is vnpeopled'i Noe : 125 

Tonges He hang on euerie tree^ 

ihatfltaU cndll fayings Jhae. 127 

121. Forrefli^ Forester Warb. a desert Rowe ct cct. 

122. Scene V. Pope + . 124, 125. bee,...vnpeopled?] be?... 
124. Cel.] Cel. [reads] Dyce, Cam. unpeopled, ^ovrt. be ?.,. unpeopled tOv^. 

Defert] F^F^, Knt, Hal. Defart 126. Tonges] Tongs F,F^. 

Fy desert silent Tyrwhitt, Steev. Mai. 127. flboe] (how F^. 

peaches when rotten rather than ripe. ' The Japanese always eat their peaches in an 
unripe state .... they regard a ripe peach as rotten.* 

117. be] Dyce (ed. iii): <Read bear; for "it" refers to the tree that is to be 
graffed.' — W. N. Lkttsom. 

117. earliest] Steevens: Shakespeare seems to have had little knowledge in 
gardening. The medlar is one of the latest firuits, being uneatable till the end of 
November. Douce (i, 302) : If a fruit be fit to be eaten when rotten, and before it 
be ripe, it may in one sense be termed the earliest. Collier (ed. ii) : If the medlar 
were graffed with the forwardness of the clown, instead of being one of the latest, it 
would be < th' earliest fruit i' the country,' and rotten before it was half ripe. 

124^153. Halliwell prints this in staves of eight, which, in a modernised edition, 
is, I think, good. — ^£d. 

124. Tyrwhitt: Although the metre may be assisted by reading *a desert,' the 
sense still is defective ; for how will the ' hanging of tongues on every tree ' make it 
less a desert ? I am persuaded we ought to read, < Why should this desert silent be ?' 
Whiter : The old reading, I believe, is genuine. Surely the same metaphor has 
power to people woods which is able to afford them speech. See what Dr Johnson 
says in the following note on * civil sayings.' If the metre should be thought defect- 
ive, < why ' may be read as a dissyllable. Let the reader repeat the line with a gentle 
pause upon < why,' and he will find no reason to reject it for deficiency of metre. 
Knight : The absence of people, says the sonneteer, does not make this place desert^ 
for I will hang tongues on every tree, that will speak the language of civil life. Desert 
is here an adjective opposed to civil. Dyce (ed. i) : As if * Why should this desert 
be ?' could possibly mean anything else than * Why should this desert exist P [Change 
seems unavoidable, and Rowe's is less violent than any other. ,Qu. deserted f~~'T.i>.'] 

125. for] For instances of < for ' in the -sense of because^ see Abbott, $151. 

127. civill] Johnson : Here used in die same sense as when we say rtW wisdom 
or civil life, in opposition to a solitary state or to the state of nature. This desert 
shall not appear unpeopled^ for every tree shall teach the maxims or incidents of social 
life. Steevens : * Civil ' is not designedly opposed to solitary. It Mieans only grave 



148 AS you LIKE IT [act hi, sc. iL 

Satney how brief e the Life of man 128 

rufis his erring pilgrimage y 
That the Jlretching of a fpan^ 1 30 

buckles in his fumme of age. 
Some of violated voweSy 

twixt the foules of friend^ and friend: 
But vpon thefairefl boweSj 

or at euerie fentence end ; 135 

Will I Rofalinda write y 

teaching all that reade^ to know 
The quintejfence of euerie fprite^ 

heauen would in little fhow. 139 

131. buckles] bucklefs F^. 138. The] This F^F^, Rowe + . 

135. or] And Ktly. 

or solemn, [For this meaning, which, I think, is the right one here, many examples 
could be adduced. The only definitions, in fact, which Dyce gives of * civil ' are 
* sober, grave, decent, solemn,' a range of meaning unaccountably overlooked by 
Schmidt, who gives as the meaning of this passage, * decent, well-mannered, polite.' 
Scarcely enough weight has been given, I think, by recent editors to this shade of 
meaning ; not that * civil ' does not here also include the idea of civilisation or of 
social life as opposed to ' desert ' ; but that it also involves the lover's melancholy is 
shown in the sigh over the shortness of life, man's erring pilgrimage, and the violated 
vows of friends. These, we are expressly told, were to be the * civil sayings * which 
would be hung on every tree. — Ed.] 

129. erring] Wright: Wandering; not used here in a moral sense. See Ham, I, 
i, 154: 'The extravagant and erring spirit.' The word occurs in its literal sense, 
though with a figurative reference, in Isaiah xxxv, 8 : < The wayfaring men, though 
fools, shall not err therein.' For < wandering stars ' in the Authorised Version of Jude 
13, the Wiclifite versions have < erringe steeres.' [For * his ' we should now use Us^ 

130. span] Wordsworth (p. 147) : As the Psalmist complains, < Thou hast made 
my days as it were a span long.' — xxxix, 6, IVayer Book Version. 

135. sentence end] Abbott, $ 217 : The possessive inflection in dissyllables end- 
ing in a sibilant sound is often unexpresised both in writing and in pronunciation. 

138. quintessence] * Quinta essentia est spiritualis et subtilis qusedam substantia, 
extracta ex rebus, per separationem, k quatuor elementis, differens realiter ab ejus 
essentia, ut aqua vita^ ipirihu vini* &c. — Minsheu, Guide Into Tongues, 1617. 
Wright : The fifth essence, called also by the mediaeval philosophers the spirit or 
soul of the world, * whome we tearme the quinticense, because he doth not consist of 

the foure Elementes, but is a certaine fifth, a thing aboue them or l)eside them 

This spirit doubtlesse is in a manner such in the body of the world, as ours is in mans 
body ; For as the powers of our soule, are through the spirit giuen to the members ; 
so the vertue of the soule of y* world is by the quintecense spread ouer all, for noth- 
ing is found in all the world which wanteth the sparke of his vertue.' — Batman vppon 
Barthoiome, fol. 173, a. 

139. in little] M alone : The allusion is to a miniature portrait. The current 



ACT in, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 149 

Therefore heauen Nature cfiarg^dj 140 

that one bodie Jhould be filVd 
With aU Graces wide enlarg^dy 

nature prefently diJlilPd 
Helens cheeke^but not his hearty 

Cleopatra's Maiejlie : 145 

Attalanta's better part^ 

fad Lucrecia's Modefiie. 147 

140. charged] changM Ff. 144. cheeke] cheelm FjF^, Rowe+. 

142. all] €Ul the Rowe i. his] Ff. her Rowe. 

wide enlarg'd] wide-enlarged heart] heare F^. 

Dyce, Cam. I47. LucreMs'\ LucreHaes Fj. Lu- 

enlarged,] enlarg'd; Rowe. cretid's F^. 

phrase in our author's time was * painted in little.* Steevens : So in Ham. II, ii, 
3S3 : ' give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in little.' [The 
train of thought here is so decidedly astrological, beginning with * quintessence ' and 
continuing through ' distillation ' to a * heavenly synod,' that it is possible that * in 
little ' may here refer to the microcosm, the ' little world of man,' to which the Gen- 
tleman refers in Lear^ III, i, 10. Where < in little ' elsewhere refers to miniatures, I 
think Shakespeare generally couples with it the idea of a < picture ' or of < drawing.' 
—Ed.] 

140, &c. Johnson : From the picture of Apelles, or the accomplishments of Pan- 
dora: llav6CiptjVf hri rc&vre^ 'OXhfiina d^fiar* ixovrec Hijpov iS6pij(rav. — [Hesiod, 
Erga, 70]. So in the Temp. Ill, i, 48 : * but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, 
are created Of every creature's best !' Caldecott cites : ' Of all complexions the 
cull'd sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; Where several worthies 
make one dignity.' — Levels Lab. L. IV, iii, 234, 

142. wide enlarg'd] * Spread through the world' is given by Schmidt as the 
equivalent of this phrase, which I doubt. Does it not refer to the magnitude of the 
graces with which Heaven had commanded Nature to fill one body ? — Ed. 

146. Attalanta's better part] Johnson was the first to start a discussion which 
has not, to this hour, subsided. He said : I know not well what could be the < better 
part ' of Atalanta here ascribed to Rosalind. Of the Atalanta most celebrated, and 
who therefore must be intended here where she has no epithet of discrimination, the 
< better part ' seems to have been her heels, and the worse part was so bad that Rosa- 
lind would not thank her lover for the comparison. There is a more obscure Ata- 
lanta, a huntress and a heroine, but of her nothing bad is recorded, and therefore I 
know not which was her < better part.' Shakespeare was no despicable mythologist, 
yet he seems here to have mistaken some other character for that of Atalanta. ToL- 
LET : Perhaps the poet means her beauty and graceful elegance of shape, which he 
would prefer to her swiftness. But cannot Atalanta's * better part ' mean her virtue or 
virgin chastity, with which Nature had graced Rosalind ? In Holland's Plinie^ bk. 
XXXV, chap. 3, we find it stated that < at Lanuvium there remaine yet two pictures of 
lady Atalanta^ and queen Helena, close one to the other, painted naked, by one and 
the same hand : both of them are for beauty incomparable, and yet a man may dis- 
ceme the one of them [Atalanta] to be a maiden, for her modest and chaste coonte- 



1 50 AS vol/ LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii, 

[Attalanta's better part] 
nance.' Farmer : I suppose Atalanta*8 < better part ' is her wit^ i. e. the swifhiess of 
her mind. Malone : Dr Farmer's explanation may derive some support from a sub- 
sequent passage [lines 269, 2^o^ posf\. It is observable that the story of Atalanta in 
Ovid's Metamorphoses is interwoven with that of Venus and Adonis, which Shake- 
speare had undoubtedly read. Thus, Golding's translation [bk. z, p. 132, ed. 1567] : 
*And hard it is to tell Thee whither she did in footemanshippe or beawty more excell/ 
*And though that shee Did fly as swift as arrow from a Turkye bowe : yit hee More 
woondred at her beawtye than at swiftnesse of her pace Her romiing greatly did 
augment her beawtye and her grace.' [In his ed. 1790, Malone suggested that Ata- 
lanta's lips were her better part, because in Marston's Insatiate Countess he found the 
reference, * Those lips were hers that won the golden ball ' ; evidently forgetting, as 
Wright says, that the allusion there was to Venus. This suggestion was withdrawn.— 
Ed.] Steevens : It may be observed that Statins also, in his sixth Hubaid^ has con- 
founded Atalanta, the wife of Hippomanes, with Atalanta, the wife of Pelops. After 
all, I believe that 'Atalanta's better part ' means only the best part about her^ such as 
was most commended. [Which is not altogether unlike Lincoln's well-known saying, 
that < for those who like this kind of thing, this kind of thing is what they would 
like ' ; what was < the best part about ' Atalanta is exactly what we are trying to find 
out. — Ed.] Whalley : I think this stanza was formed on an old tetrastich epitaph 
which I have read in a country churchyard : < She who is dead and sleepeth in this 
tomb. Had Rachel's comely face, aad Leah's fruitful womb: Sarah's obedience, 
Lydia's open heart, And Martha's care, and Mary's better part,* Whiter, to whom 
this passage offers a notable instance of the truth of his theory as to the association of 
ideas, devotes nearly nineteen octavo pages to its elucidation, whereof the following is 
a digest : It has been remarked that Shakespeare has himself borrowed many of his 
images from prints, statues, paintings, and exhibitions in tapestry ; and we may observe 
that some allusions of this sort are to be found in the play before us, and especially in 

those places which describe the beauty of Rosalind I have always been firmly 

persuaded that the imagery which our Poet has selected to discriminate the more 
prominent perfections of Helen, Cleopatra, Atalanta, and Lucretia was not derived 
from the abstract consideration of their general qualities ; but was caught Sxom. those 
peculiar traits of beauty and character which are impressed on the mind of him who 
contemplates their portraits. It is well known that these celebrated heroines of 
romance were, in the days of our Poet, the favourite subjects of popular representa- 
tion, and were alike visible in the coarse hangings of the poor and the magnificent 
arras of the rich. In the portraits of Helen, whether they were produced by the skil- 
fill artist or his ruder imitator, though her face would certainly be delineated as emi- 
nently beaudfVil, yet she appears not to have been adorned with any of those charms 
which are allied to modesty ; and we accordingly find that she was generally depicted 
with a loose and insidious countenance, which but too manifestly betrayed the inward 
wantonness and perfidy of her heart [Shelton's Don Quixote, Part ii, p. 480, is here 
cited in proof.] With respect to the < majesty of Cleopatra ' it may be observed that 
this notion is not derived from classical authority, but Sxom. the more popular storehouse 

of legend and romance I infer, therefore, that the familiarity of this image was 

impressed both on the Poet and his reader from pictures and representations in tapes- 
try, which were the lively and faithful mirrors of pq)ular romances. Atalanta, we 
know, was considered likewise by our ancient poets as a celebrated beauty ; and we 
may be assured therefore that her portraits were everywhere to be found. .... Since 



ACT ni, sc. iL] AS YOU LIKE IT 151 

[Attalanta's better part] 
the story of Atalanta represents that heroine as possessed of singular beauty, zealous 
to preserve her maidenliness even with the death of her lovers, and accomplishing 
her purposes by extraordinary swiftness in running, we may be assured that the skill 
of the artist would be employed in displaying the most perfect expressions of rnrgin 
purity ^ and in delineating the fine proportions and elegant symmetry of her person, 
.... Let us suppose, therefore, that the portraits of these celebrated beauties, Helen, 
Cleopatra, Atalanta, and Lucretia, were delineated as I have above described, that in 
the days of Shakespeare they continued to be the favorite subjects of popular repre- 
sentation, and that consequently they were familiarly impressed on the mind of the 
Poet and on the memory of his audience. Let us now investigate what the bard, or 
the lover, under the influence of this impression, would select as the better parts of 
these celebrated heroines, which he might wish to be transferred to his own mistress 
as the perfect model of female excellence. In contemplating the portrait of Helen 
he is attracted only by those charms which are at once the most distinguished, and at 
the same time are the least employed in expressing the feelings of the heart He 
wishes therefore for that rich bloom of beauty which glowed upon her cheeky but he 
rejects those lineaments of her countenance which betrayed the loose inconstancy of 
her mind — the insidious smile and the wanton brilliancy of her eye. Impressed with 
the effect, he passes instantly to the cause. He is enamoured with the better part of 
the beauty of Helen ; but he is shocked at the depravity of that hearty which was too 
manifestly exhibited by the worse. To convince the intelligent reader that < cheek * it 
iK>t applied to beauty in general^ but that it is here used in its appropriate and orig* 
inal sense, we shall produce a very curious passage from one of our author's Sonnets^ 
by which it will appear that the portraits of Helen were distinguished by the con- 
summate beauty which was displayed upon her cheek : * Describe Adonis, and tht 
counterfeit (f. e. picture) Is poorly imitated after yoiL On Helen's cheeh all art of 

beauty set. And you in Grecian tires are painted new.' — Sonnet 53 In survey 

ing the portrait of Atalanta^ and in reflecting on the character which it displayed, the 
lover would not find it difiicult to select the better part both of her mind and of hei 
form, which he might wish to be transfused into the composition of his mistress. He 
would not be desirous of that perfection in her person which contributed nothing to 
the gratification of his passion, and he would reject that principle of her soul which 
was adverse to the object of his wishes. He would be enamoured with the fine pro 
portions and elegant symmetry of her limbs ; though his passion would find but little 
reason to be delighted with the quality of swiftness with which that symmetry was 
connected. He would be captivated with the blushing charms of unsullied virginity ; 
but he would abhor that unfeeling coldness which resisted the impulse of love, and 
that uimatural cruelty which rejoiced in the murder of her lovers. The Poet lastly 
wishes for the modesty of the sad Lucretia^ that firm and deep-rooted principle of 
female chastity which is so visibly depicted in the sadness of her countenance, and 
which has rendered her through all ages the pride and pattern of conjugal fidelity. 
Such then are the wishes of the lover in the formation of his mistress, that the ripe 
and brilliant beauties of Helen should be united to the elegant symmetry and virgin 
graces of Atalanta^ and that this union of charms should be still dignified and eimo- 
bled by the majestic mien of Cleopatra and the matron modesty of Lucrttia. [Whiter 
concludes by pointing out the allusion to a picture, involved in * little,' line 139, and 
the term of painting, in * touches ' in line 15 1.] Caldecott : From the use of it in 
Quarles's Argalus and Parthenia, it has been suggested that this might have been a 



152 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc. ii. 

[Attalanta's better part] 
well-understood phrase for works of high excellence : < No, no, Hwas neither brow, 
nor lip, nor eye, Nor any outward excellence urg'd me, why To love Parthenia. 
'Twas her better part (Which mischief could not wrong) surpriz'd my heart' Hal- 
LIWELL : The expression ' better part ' is a very common one in works of th(<'sixr 
teenth and seventeenth centuries, used in the sense of the soul or mind, or sometimes 
for the head, the seat of the intellect or soul. Its exact meaning in the present line 
is somewhat obscure, but it probably refers to the chaste mind of the beautiful Ata- 
lanta. Knight quotes certain paragraphs from Whiter which are included in those 
given above. Coluer has no note on the passage. Singer says nothing new. 
Staunton (in a note on Macb, V, viii, r8 : < it hath cow'd my better part of man ') : 
Atalanta's better part was not her modesty ^ nor her heels ^ nor her wit^ but simply her 
spiritual part. The old epitaph quoted by Whalley almost proves, although he was 
apparently unconscious of the meaning, that * better part ' signified the immortal^ the 
intelligent part But the following lines from Overbury's Wife places this beyond 
doubt : * Or rather let me Love^ then be in lave; So let me chuse, as Wife and Friend 
to finde. Let me forget her Sex^ when I approve ; Beasts likenesse lies in shape^ but 
ours in minde ; Our Soules no Sexes have, their Love is deane, No Sex, both in the 
better part are men* The Italics are the author's. [Sig. D 2, ed. 1627.] Dyce says 
the expression is * common enough,' but offers nothing new in way of explanation. 
The Cowden-Clarkes think that Atalanta's beauty, reticence, and agility form her 
* better part.' Hudson : The * better part ' would refer to Atalanta's exquisite sym- 
metry and proportion of form ; and Orlando must of course imagine all formal, as 
well as all mental and moral graces, in his * heavenly Rosalind.' Wright : Winter's 
opinion that Shakespeare may have had in mind pictures or tapestry may well have 
been the case, and it is known that cameos representing classical subjects were much 
in request. [In a letter to me in 1877 the late A. E. Brae says : * My own interpre- 
tation, unpublished except now to you, is that the allusion is Meleager's Atalanta of 
epicene loveliness, half boy, half girl, with whom Meleager fell in love at first sight, 
just as Orlando did with Rosalind. The "better part" may be either Atalanta's 
feminine beauty as contrasted with her boyish beauty, or it may be her loveliness as 
contrasted with her equipment in huntress fashion. After the description of which, in 
Ovid's Afeta. lib. viii, comes: *< Talis erat cultus; facies quam dicere vere Virgineam 
in puero, puerilem in virgine posses." Now, had not Rosalind, even before she donned 
male attire, this double character of beauty ? .... It may be objected that Orlando 
did not know when he was versifying that Rosalind was in boy's dress, but Shake- 
speare knew it, and the audience knew it, and it is but a very slight discrepancy or 
oversight compared with the suggestion of ** agility " which is nowhere even hinted 

at as attributable to Rosalind Should you think the interpretation here suggested 

as too abstruse, I should substitute this : that Atalanta's subsequent eager susceptibil- 
ity to love fix)m Hippomanes and Meleager might well be called her better part, as 
opposed to her former insensibility and cruelty in outpacing and then slaughtering her 
lovers.' To me both of these interpretations are somewhat too refined ; the former 
Brae himself adequately condemns by referring to the anticipation involved in it. 
Atalanta wished to remain unwedded not from any love of maidenhood, but simply 
because the oracle had told her that marriage would prove fatal to her, as it did. It 
was her physical beauty which attracted her lovers and made them prefer death, to 
life without her. Staunton's explanation is hardly specific enough ; her < immortal 
part ' she shared in common with the other three types. Her < better part ' was, I 



ACT III. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 153 

Thus Rofalinde of manie parts ^ 148 

by Heauenly Synode was deui^dy 
Of manie faces y eyeSy and hearts^ 1 50 

to haue the touches deerefi priid. 
Heauen would thatfhee thefe gifts fhould hauCy 

and I to Hue and die herjlaue. 

Rof. O moft gentle lupiter, what tedious homilie of 154 

154. lupiter,'] Jupiter, FjF^. Juniper! Warb. pulpiter! Spedding, Cam. Glo. Cla. 

think, her physical, personal charms. Nature's distillation resulted in Helen's face, 
Qeopatra's bearing, Atalanta's form, and Lucretia's modesty. — Ed.] 

147. Lucrecia's] The spelling in F^, * Lucretiaes,' if it be phonetic, which is not 
unlikely, exactly reproduces the New England pronunciation of to-day among 
thoroughbred Yankees. I have heard from college professors Cubae^ stigmae, &c. for 
Cuba, stigma. See also what White says about < lectors,' line 336, post. — Ed. 

150. Wright: Shakespeare may have remembered the story of Zeuxis as told by 
Pliny (xxxv, 9, trans. Holland), * that when bee should make a table with a picture 
for the Agrigentines, to be set up in the temple of luno Lacinia, at the charges of the 
citie, according to a vow that they had made, hee would needs see all the maidens 
of the citie, naked ; and from all that companie hee chose five of the fairest to take 
out as from severall patterns, whatsoever hee liked best in any of them ; and of all 
the lovely parts of those five, to make one bodie of incomparable beautie.' 

151. touches] Johnson: The features; les traits. [See V, iv, 31.] 

152. 153. should . . . and I to Hue] Wright: The construction is loose, although 
the sense is clear. We may regard the words as equivalent to < And that I should 
live,* &c. ; or supply some verb from * would * in line 152, as if it were either * And I 
would live,' or * am willing to live,' &c. Abbott refers to this passage in $ 416, as 
an instance of where < construction is changed for clearness.' < Here ** to " might be 
omitted, or " should " might be inserted instead, but the omission would create ambi- 
guity, and the insertion would be a tedious repetition.' See also a parallel construction 
in V, iv, 25, 26. For other instances where < I ' is used before an infinitive, see 
Abbott, §216. 

154. lupiter] Spedding's emendation, pulpiter, adopted by the Cambridge Edi- 
tors and by Dyce in his Second Edition, but abandoned in his Third, is plausible and 
alluring. It is the word of all words to introduce the train of thought that follows, 
with which < Jupiter ' has no connection. This addition of an -^r to a noun in order 
to change it to an agent, like < moraler ' in Othello, * justicer ' in Lear, &c., is, as we 
all know, thoroughly Shakespearian. Moreover * lupiter ' is not printed in Italics as 
though it were a proper name, to which Wright calls attention, and as it is printed in 
the only other place where it is used in this play, II, iv, 3 ; which adds to the likeli- 
hood that it is here a misprint All these considerations are clamorous for Sped- 
ding's pulpiter. But, on the other hand the text is clear without it; once before 
Rosalind has appealed to < Jupiter,' and to use this mouth-filling oath, which is ' not 
dangerous,' may have been one of her characteristics, as certainly the use of expletives 
in general is. Although * Jupiter ' is not elsewhere printed in Roman, yet < Jove ' is, 
and in this very scene, line 231 ; and so also is * Judas ' in III, iv, 10. Pulpiter can 



154 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc. iL 

Loue haue you wearied your parifhioners withall, and 155 
neuer cri'de, haue patience good people. 

CeL How now backe friends : Shepheard,go off a lit- 
tle : go with him firrah. 

Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable re- 
treit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with 160 
fcrip and fcrippage. Exit. 

CeL Didft thou heare thefe verfes? 

Rof. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for fome 
of them had in them more feete then the Verfes would 
beare. 165 

CeL That's no matter : the feet might beare y verfes. 

Rof. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare 
themfelues without the verfe,and therefore ftood lame- 
ly in the verfe. 

CeL But didft thou heare without wondering, how 170 
thy name (hould be hang'd and carued vpon thefe trees ? 

Rof. I was feuen of the nine dales out of the wonder, 172 

156. cri^de] cride^ have your parijh- Cap. Stcev. Mai. back ^ friends. Coll. 
tones withall^ and never cri^de^ F,. Back, friends ! Wh. Cam. 

157. How now\ How now! Ff. How 162. Scene VI. Pope + . 

now f Coll. 172. the wonder"] wonder Ff, Rowe + , 

dache friends:"] dach -friends / Cap. 
Theob. Han. Warb. Johns, dach friends F 

hardly be called an emendation ; there is no* obscurity which amounts to a defect. 
It is an improvement, and against verbal improvements, which it is far from impossible 
to make in Shakespeare's text, we should, I think, acquire and maintain a dogged 
habit of shutting our eyes and closing our ears. See IV, iii, 19. — Ed. 
168. without] ' That is, outside of the verse. 

171. should] Abbott, $328: There is no other reason for the use of * should' 
in this line than that it denotes a statement not made by the speaker (compare sol/en 
in German). Should seems to denote a false story in George Yox^s Journal i * From 
this man's words was a slander raised upon us that the Quakers should deny Christ,' 
p. 43 (edition 1765). * The priest of that church raised many wicked slanders upon 
me : '* That I rode upon a great black horse, and that I should give a fellow money 
to follow me when I was on my black horse."' 'Why should you think that I 
should woo in scorn.' — Mid. N. D. Ill, ii, 122. Wright : * Should ' is frequently 
used in giving a reported speech. Thus in Jonson, The Fox, II, i : *Sir Politick. I 
heard last night a most strange thing reported By some of my lord's followers, and I 
long To hear how 'twill be seconded. Peregrine. What was 't, sir ? Sir. P. Marry, 
sir, of a raven that should build In a ship royal of the king's' [p. 202, ed. Gifford]. 

172. seuen . . . nine] Capell (p. 61) : It is still a common saying amongst us, 
that a wonder lasts nine days ; seven of which, says Rosalind, are over with me, for 
I have been wondering a long time at some verses that J have found. 



■s^ 



ACT HI. sc. ii,] AS YOU LIKE IT XS5 

before you came: for looke heere what I found on a 173 

Palme tree; I was neuer fo berim d fince Pythagoras time 

that I was an Irifh Rat, which I can hardly remember. 175 

174. Pythagoras] Pythagora^s Rowe + . Pythagoras* Cap. 

174. Palme tree] Stekvens: A < palm-tree ' in the forest of Arden is as much 
out of place as the lioness in a subsequent scene. Caldecott : Bulleyn in his Booke 
of Compounds t 1562, p. 40 [speaks of] < the kaies or woolly knottes, growing upon 
sallowes, commonly called palmes,^ Brand {^Pop. Ant, i, 127, ed. Bohn) : It is still 
customary with our boys, both in the south and north of England, to go out and gather 
slips with the willow-flowers or buds at this time [1. e. Palm Sunday]. These seem to 
have been selected as substitutes for the real palm, because they are generally the 
only things, at this season, which can be easily procured in which the power of vege- 
tation can be discovered. It is even yet a common practice in the neighborhood of 
London. The young people go a-palming; and the sallow is sold in London streets 
for the whole week preceding Palm Sunday, the purchasers commonly not knowing 
the tree which produces it, but imagining it to be the real palm, and wondering that 
they never saw it growing I Halliwell {Archaic Diet. s. v. Palm) : Properly exotic 
trees of the tribe Palmacea; but among our rustics it means the catkins of a delicate 
species of willow gathered by them on Palm Sunday. * Palme, the yelowe that grow- 
eth on wyllowes, chatton* — Palsgrave, 1 550. Wright : As the forest of Arden is taken 
from Lodge's Novel, it is likely that the trees in it came from the same source. This 
is certainly the case with the ' tuft of olives * in III, v, 78. Lodge's forest was such 
as could only exist in the novelist's fancy, for besides pines, beech trees, and cypresses, 
there were olives, figs, lemons, and citrons, pomegranates, and myrrh trees. The 
palm is mentioned, but not as a forest tree, and only in figures of speech ; as, for 
example : * Thou art old, Adam, and thy haires waxe white ; the palme tree is alreadie 
full of bloomes.' — ^Lodge's Novel. Coluer (ed. i) : Shakespeare cared little about 
such < proprieties ' ; but possibly he wrote plam-tree, which may have been misread 
by the transcriber or compositor. [Collier did not repeat this suggestion in his subse- 
quent editions. It seems quite clear frY>m both Bulleyn and Palsgrave that the catkins 
of the willow were called palms, and presumably for the reason that they were used, 
as Brand states, on Palm Sunday. But I can find no proof that the willow was ever 
called a * palm tree.' Here, in this city, on that day, in lieu of the Oriental branches, 
sprigs of box and the long leaves of the Phormium tenax are distributed in the 
churches, and are called < palms,' but no one ever thinks of calling the plants them- 
selves ' palm trees.' Shakespeare's forest was Lodge's forest, and, as Wright tmlj 
says, that forest could exist only in fancy.— Ed.] 

174, 175. berim d . . . Rat] Grey (i, 181): A banter upon Pythagoras's doc- 
trine of the transmigration of souls. See Spenser's Faerie Queene, I, ix [* As he were 
charmed with inchaunted rimes.'— line 437, ed. Grosart]. In Randolph's Jealous 
Levers, v, ii, there is an image much like this : *Azoius, And my poets Shall with a 
satire steep' d in gall and vinegar Rithme 'em to death, as they do rats in Ireland.' 
Johnson : The power of killing rats with rhymes Donne mentions in his Satires and 
Temple in his Treatises, [The passage in Donne's Satires to which reference is here 
made must be, I think, in Pope's version, pointed out by Wright, ScUire II, line 22 : 
* One sings the fair ; but songs no longer move ; No rat is rhymed to death, nor maid 
to love.' I cannot find it in the original. The passage in Temple is probably that 



156 AS VOLT LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

CeL Tro you, who hath done this ? 176 

Rof, Is it a man ? 

CeL And a chaine that you once wore about his neck: 
change you colour ? 

Rof. I pre' thee who? 180 

CeL O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to 

176. Tr6\ Trow Theob. ii. 1 78. wore\ wore, Ff, Rowe et seq. 

178, And'\ Ay, and Cap. 179. you] your F^F^. 

which is quoted by M. M. (iV. ^ Qu, Ist Ser. vol. vi, p. 460) from the Essay on 
Poetry : * and the proverb of ** rh3rming rats to death " came, I suppose, from the 
same root * \i. e. the Runic]. In the same volume of N. &* Qu. p. 591, G. H. Kings- 
ley supplied another allusion from Scot's Discouerie of Witchcraft : * The Irishmen 
.... terme one sort of their witches eybiters .... yea and they will not sticke to 
afiirme, that they can rime either man or beast to death.' — Book III, chap, xv, p. 64, 
ed. 1584. — Ed.] Steevens: So in an address <To the Reader' at the conclusion 
of Jonson's Poetaster: < Rhime them to death, as they do Irish rats In drumming 
tunes.' M ALONE : So in Sir Philip Sidney's Defence of Poesie : * I will not wish vnto 
you the Asses eares of Midcu .... nor to be rimed to death, as is said to be done in 
IreiSd* — [p. 518, ad fin. ed. 1598]. Halliwell gives several references of a later 
date, and adds that * the power of the Irish satirist to rhyme men to death is frequently 
referred to, and is the subject of various ancient legends. According to Mr Currie, 
" the most ancient story of rhyming rats to death in Ireland is found in an historico- 
romantic tale, entitled, Tke Adventures of the Great Company ^^ ' Hereupon, Halli- 
well quotes the < adventures,' whereof space and relevancy will scarcely permit the 
reprint here. <An anonymous critic adds,' says Halliwell in conclusion, 'that in 
France, at the present day, similar reliance on the power of rhyme is placed by 
the peasantry. Most provinces contain some man whose sole occupation is to lure 
insects and reptiles by song to certain spots where they meet with destruction. 
The superstition belongs to the same order as that of the serpent-charmers of the 
East.' 

174. Pythagoras] Walker (Crit, i, 152) cites this allusion to Pythagoras, among 
many others, to show the influence of Ovid on Shakespeare. The doctrines of that 
philosopher are set forth at large in Met, zv. 

175. that] Abbott, $ 284: Since thai represents different cases of the relative, it 
may mean * in thcU^ ' for that^ * because ' (* quod *), or * at which time ' (* quum '). 

175. which] For other instances where 'which' is used for < which thing,' often 
parenthetically, see Abbott, $ 271. 

178. And a chaine] Wright: This irregular and elliptical construction, in which 
< and ' does yeoman's service for many words, may be illustrated by the following 
from Cor. I, i, 82 : < Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses cnunmed with grain.' 
And in Cym. V, iv, 179 : ' But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman 
to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer.' 

181, 182. friends . . . meete] Steevens : Alluding to the proverb: ' Friends may 
meet, but mountains never greet.' See Ray's Collection, Malone : So in Mother 
BombiCy by Lily, 1594 : ' Then wee foure met, which argued wee were no mountaines.' 
-[V, iU]. 




ACT III. sc. U.] ^5 YOU LIKE IT 157 

meete ; but Mountaines may bee remoouM with Earth- 182 
quakes, and fo encounter. 

Rof. Nay, but who is it ? 

CeL Is it poffible? 185 

Rof. Nay, I pre'thee now, with moft petitionary ve- 
hemence, tell me who it is. 

CeL O wonderfull, wonderfuU, and moft wonderfull 
wonderfuU, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out 
of all hooping. 190 

Rof. Good my completion, doft thou think though 

186. prithee] pray thee Cap. Steev. whooping Thcob. ct seq. 

Var.'2i, Cald. Knt, Sta. 191. Goodmy\ C7<iV'j,myTheob.Haii 

187. teWl till F,. Od's my Cap. 

190. Jiooping\ hoping T^ Rowe. comptetfiion'] companion Gould. 

182. with] For other instancfia of the use of * with ' in the sense of by means of, 
see Abbott, § 193. 

183. encounter] Grey (i, 181) : A plain allusion to the following incident men- 
tioned by Pliny, Hist. Nat, ii, 83 [or as it stands in Holland's translation, cited by 
Toilet, but no credit given to Grey] : < There hapned once .... a great strange won- 
der of the earth ; for two hils encountered together, charging as it were, and with 
violence assaulting one another, yea, and ret3Ting againe with a most mighty noise.' 
Wright : There is of course no necessity for supposing that Shakespeare had such a 
passage in his mind. 

190. hooping] Steevens : That is, out of all measure or reckoning. Malone : 
This appears to have been a phrase of the same import as another formerly in use, 
' out of all cry* Caldecott : Literally beyond, or out of all call or stretch of the 
voice ; metaphorically, and as we are to understand it, not to be expressed by any 
figure of admiration. Dyce : Akin to this are the phrases Out of all cry and Out of 
all ho, [Of the former of these kindred phrases examples are given by Steevens, Col- 
lier, Wright, and many by Halliwell, but of the phrase itself, * hooping,' there does not 
appear to be another instance, nor is any needed : its meaning is clear enough. — Ed.] 
Wright: The form whoop [see Text. Notes] was in early use. Cotgrave gives: 
< Hucher. To whoope, or hallow for ; to call vnto.' And earlier still, in Palsgrave, 1 530, 
we find, * I whoope, I call. Je huppe Whooppe a lowde, .... huppe hault* 

191. complection] Theobald in his first edition confessed himself unable to ' rec- 
oncile this expression to common sense,' and hence his emendation, which Hanmer 
adopted. The emendation is ingenious, because afterwards Rosalind says, * Odd's, 
my little life,' and again, * Odd's, my will.' He withdrew it, however, in his second 
edition, presumably convinced in the interim by his ' most affectionate friend ' War- 
burton, who wrote to him (Nichols, Ulust. ii, 646) : < You say you cannot reconcile 
this to common sense. Can you reconcile odds my complexion to it ? The truth is, 
« good my complexion " is a fine proverbial expression, and used by way of apology 
when one is saying anything for which one ought to blush, and signifies, hold good, 
my complexion, t. e, may I not be out of countenance !' Very different this, in tone, 
from the sneer which Warboiton printed in his own edition seven years later. Ma- 
lone : That is, my native character, my female inquisitive disposition, canst thou 



i6o AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc ii. 

CeL So you may put a man in your belly. 200 

Rof. Is he of Gods making ? What manner of man ? 
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard ? 

CeL Nay, he hath but a little beard. 

Rof. Why God will fend more, if the man will bee 
thankful : let me ftay the growth of his beard, if thou 205 
delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 

CeL It is yong Orlando^ that tript vp the Wraftlers 
heeles,and your heart, both in an inftant 

Rof. Nay, but the diuell take mocking : fpeake fadde 
brow, and true maid. 210 

Cel. rfaith(Coz) tis he. 

Rof. Orlando ? 

CeL Orlando, 

Rof. Alas the day, what (hall I do with my doublet & 
hofe? What did he when thou faVft him? What fayde 215 

210. maid'\ mind Anon (a/. Cam. Ed.). 

201. Qods making] Wright: Or his tailor's? G)mpare Lear^ II, ii, 59: 
' nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made thee.' Stephens in his Essayes and Cka- 
ratters (2d ed. 1615) has one 'My Mistresse/ of whom he says: 'Her body is (I 
presume) of God's making & yet I cannot tell, for many parts thereof she made her 
selfe ' (p. 391). [Compare too what Viola answers ( Thvelfih N. I, ▼, 254) when Olivia 
unveils her face and asks, ' is't not well done ?' < Excellently done,' replies Viola, 
« if God did all.'— Ed.] 

205. stay] For many other instances where ' stay ' is equivalent to waii for, see 
Schmidt, s. v. 2, g. 

209, 210. sadde . . . maid] Ritson : That is, speak with a grave countenance, 
and as truly as thou art a virgin ; speak seriously and honestly. [In connection with 
the similar phrase ' I answer you right painted cloth,' line 267, Steevens cites the 
parallel construction : ' He speaks plain cannon Bre, and smoke and bounce *^^King 
John^ II, i, 462. And Malone cites, * I speak to thee plain soldier ' — Hen. V: V, ii, 
156; 'He speaks nothing but madman' — Twelfth N, I, v, 115. For 'sad' in the 
sense of grave^ Schmidt will supply many an instance.] 

213. Orlando] Lady Martin (p. 418) : Celia answers, and this time gravely, 
for Rosalind's emotion shows her this is no jesting matter. Oh happiness beyond 
belief, oh rapture inexpressible ! The tears at this point always welled up to my 
eyes and my whole body trembled. If hitherto Rosalind bad any doubt as to the 
state of her own heart, from this moment she can have none. Finding how she is 
overcome at the bare idea of his being near, the thought flashes on her : ' Alas, the 
day ! what shall I do with my doublet and hose ?' but Celia has seen him, he per- 
haps has seen Celia, and that perplexing thought is put aside in the eagerness to learn 
full particulars about her lover. 



ACT III. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT i6i 

he? HowlookMhe/ Wherein went he? What makes hee 2i6 
heere? Did he aske for me ? Where remaines he ? How 
parted he with thee f And when (halt thou fee him a- 
gaine? Anfwer me in one word. 

Cel. You muft borrow me Gargantuas mouth firft: 220 
'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages fize,to 
fay I and no, to thefe particulars, is more then to anfwer 
in a Catechifme. 223 

216. makes hee\ makes him Han. +, Steev. Mai. Coll. Sing. KUy. 

218. he'\ me F,. 221. fae^ to] size: To Ci^ siu, T0 

220. Gargantuas] GaragarUua^s Pope Coll. 

216. Wherein went he ?] Heath (p. 149) : That is, in what manner was he 
cloathed ? How did he go dressed ? Rev. John Huntee : This has been supposed 
to mean in what dress; but surely it is used for whereinto. [This latter inteipretation 
would be conclusive were it not that to go bears the meaning, so veiy fiequently, of tc 
dress. Schmidt gives fourteen or fifteen examples, and the list is far fxx>m complete. 
Furthermore, is not Hunter's inteipretation virtually contained in * Where remains 
he ?'— Ed.] 

218. with] Abbott, $ 194 : Though we still say ' I parted with a house ' or ' with 
a servant (considered as a chattel),* we could not say * When you parted with the 
king.*— ^iVA. //.• II, ii, 2. 

220. Gargantuas] Geey (i, 181) : Alluding to Garagantua's swallowing five pil- 
grims, with their pilgrims* staves, in a salad. [Rabelais, Bk. I, chap, xxxviii.] John- 
son : Rosalind requires nine questions to be answered in one word, Celia tells her 
that a word of such magnitude is too big for any mouth but that of Garagantua, the 
giant of Rabelais. Steevens : It appears from the Stationers' Registers that in 1592 
[April 6— Wright ; vol. ii, p. 607, ed. Arber] was published ' Gargantua his prophesie.* 
And in 1594 [Dec. 4 — Wright ; vol. ii, p. 667, ed. Arber] *A booke entituled, the his- 
torie of Gargantua,* &c. The book of Gargantua is likewise mentioned by Laneham 
in his letter from Kenilworth, 1575. Halliwell: Although there had been no 
English translation of Rabelais in Shakespeare's time, yet it is evident from several 
notices that a chap-book history of Gargantua was very popular in this country in the 
sixteenth century. [Hereupon Halliwell gives several of these notices and other 
references. See Text. Notes for the misspelling started among the Editors by Pope. 
— Ed.] Wright : Cotgrave gives : < Gargantua. Great throat Rab.' 

222. I and no] On that puzzling passage in Lear, IV, vi, 99, where Lear says 
««*Ay'* and "no** too was no good divinity,* Cowden-Clarke remarks: *In 
proof that " ay *' and " no ** was used by Shakespeare with some degree of latitude 
as a phrase signifying alternate reply, and not merely in strictness " yes ** and « no,*' 
compare [this present passage], where if the questions Rosalind asks be examined, it 
will be perceived that neither " ay ** nor " no '* will do as answers to any of them, 
except to " Did he ask for me ?** ' [Celia's words, as Cowden-Clarke intimates, are 
not to be taken literally. I think she means that if she were to give even the very 
shoxtest of answers to all of Rosalind*s questions, it would be a longer task than to go 
through the Catechism. — Ed.] 

223. in a] Heath (p. 149): We should read *to answer a catechism.' <To 

zz 



i6a 4S YOU LIKE IT [act in. sc. ii. 

Rof. But doth he know that I am in this Forreft, and 
in mans apparr^U ? Looks he as frcfhly^ ^ he did the day 225 
he Wraftled ? 

Cel. It is as eafie to count Atomies as to refoliie the 
propofitions of a Louer : but take a tafte of my finding 
him, and rellifh it with good obferuance. I fpund him 
vnder a tree like a dropM Acome. 230 

Rof. It may wel be calM loues tree, when it droppea 
forth fruite. 

CeL Giue me audience, good Madam. 

Rof. Proceed. 

Cel. There lay hee ftretch'd along like a Wounded 235 
knight. 

Rof. Though it be pittie to fee fuch a fight, it well 
becomes the ground* 238 

aa6. WraftUd'\ WraJttdY^, Knt 

227. Atomies] Atonus F^F^. Atoms 230. a tree] an oak-tree Han. 

iU>we+, 2^2, forth] suck Cap. KUy, Hnds. 

229. good] a good St^Yywr,* 21, Cald. /ortk suck Ff, Rowe et cet 

answer in a catechism ' implies no more than to answer a single question in it. The 
sense rec^uires that the answer should be to every part of it. 

^27. Atomies] Malone : * An atomic/ says Bullokar, in his ExposOor^ 1616, * ii 
a mote flying in the sunne. Any thing so small that it cannot be made lesse.' [Prob- 
ably this was pronounced atomeis. In Sylvester's Du Bartas^ BeikuHas Rescue^ 1632, 
lib. vi, 346 : < Alas I I erre : for all in Atomies Wert thou divided, all would not suf- 
fice.' Again, Ibid,^ Battaii of Yury^ 421 : * Our State (yerst honour'd where the Sun 
doth rise) Would fly in sparks or die in atomies.' Also in R. L.*s DieUa^ Sonn. zxx., 
quoted by Caldecott (not, however, in reference to the pronunciation of atomic), we 
read : * Hee that <:an count the candles of the skiie Or number nomborlesse small 
attomie.* — Ed.] 

231. loues] Because the oak was sacred to Jove^ and because Orlando was^om- 
oared to an acorn, Warburton reads ' under am oak tree ' in the preceding line. <A 
laughing allusion,' says Neil, < to Minerva's springing full-grown from, Jupiter's head, 
seeing that the oak's acorn Celia spoke of was a iiill-grown lover.' 

232. forth fruite] See Text Notes for the omission su{^ed by the Second Folio. 
Capell asserted that no such phrase as ' drops fortk ' is ' acknowledg'd by English- 
men ' ; but Malone dtes it in this very play, IV, iii, 37. 

238. becomes the ground] Capell: The metaphor is taken from colour'd 
needlework, whose figures are more or less beautiful, according to the ground they 
are lajr'd on. Halliwell : But the more obvious meaning may be what is intended. 
Steevens : So in Ham. V, ii, 413 : * Such a sight as this Becomes the field.' Wright : 
But < field ' in this case means * battle-field.' Staunton : That is, it well adorns, or 
graces, or sets off the ground. To < become,' in the present day, signifies usually to 
befit, to be suitable; formerly it meant more than this. Thus, in Com. of Err, III, il 






ACT ni, 9C. ±1 AS Y€U LIKE IT 1^3 

CeL Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee : it curnettes 
vn&afonably. He was furnifh'd like a Hunter* 24a 

Ro/. O ominous, he comes to kill my hart 
CeL I would fing my fong without a burthen, thou 
bring^ft me out of tune. 243 

239. Aolla'] holla F^, Rowe. - 241. harfl Ff, Pope, Cap. Cald. Knt. 

tk€\ Ff, Cald. Knt My Rowe heart Rowe et cet 
et cet. 

Luciana bids Antipholus, * become disloyalty ; Apparel Vice, like Viitne's harbinger.' 
And in Kmg Johfi^ V, i, Falconbridge exhorts the king to * glister like the god of 
war, When he intendeth to become the fields' 

239. hoUa] Skxat: Holla^ HoUoy stop, wait! (French). Not the same word as 
haliooy and somewhat difierently used in old authors. The tme sense is stop ! wait I 
and it was at first osed as as interjection simply, though early confused widi halloo^ 
and thus acquiring the sense of to shout * Holla, stand there.' — Othu I, ii, 56. [The 
present passage citedw] French hold^ * an interjection, hoe there enough ; . . . . also, 
hear you me, or come hither.'^-Cotgra,ve. French ho, interjection, and Id, there. 
The French Zi is an abbreviation from Latin iHaef that way, there, originally a femi- 
nine ablative, from illu, pronoun, he yonder, which is a compound of iUe, he, and the 
enclitic ce, meaning * there.' — Lear, III, i, 55 ; Tkifelfth N. I, v, 291. But note that 
there is properly a distinction between holla (with final a), die French form, and hallo 
(with final 0), a variant of halloo^ the English form. Confusion was inevitable ; it is 
worth noting that die Fr. Zi accounts for the final tf, just as Ang. Sax. Zi accounts for 
the final or 00; since Ang. Sax. A becomes long o by rule, as in bdn, %bone, stdn, a 
stone. 

239. the] Walker (CriL ii, 231) has a chapter on the confiision of thy and the, 
of which confusion the present word is an instance. Rapid pranunciation will, I 
think,, account for this apparent confusion in many an instance. The every-day speech 
of the Quakers, or < their Friends' language,' as they call# it, furnishes finequent 
examples.-— Ed. 

24a vnseasonably] Apparendy through a mere oversight Steevens in his edition 
of 1793 inserted very before this word; thereupon the enxnr curvetted unseasonably 
through the Variorums of 1803, 18x39 182X, and Singer's first edition, until Knight 
cried holla to it-— Ed. 

241. hart] Steevens: A quibble between heart and hart, [See Schmidt, x. v, 
hearty for die same pun elsewhere.] 

242. I woald] See Abbott, $ 329, for other exan^les of * would ' used for wUl, 
wish, require. 

242. burthen] Chappell (p. 222) : The ' burden ' of a song, in die old accepta- 
tion of the word, was the base, foot, or trnder-song. It was sung throughout, and not 
merely at the end of the verse. ' Burden ' is derived from bourdoun, a drone base 
(French, bourdon), * This sompnour bar to him a stif burdoun, Was nevere txonqM 
of half so gret a soun.' — {^Cant, Tales, ProL, line 673, ed. Monris]. We find as early 
as 1250 that Somer is icumen in was sung with a foot^ or burden. In two parts through- 
out (* Sing cuckoo, sing cuckoo ') ; and in the preceding century Giraldus had noticed 
the peculiarity of the English in singing under-parts to their songs. That * burden * 
still bore the sense of an under-part or base, and not merely of a ditty, see A Quest 



164 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act III, sc. ii. 



Rof. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke, 
I muft fpeake : fweet, fay on. 245 

Enter Orlando & Toques. 
Cel. You bring me out 5oft, comes he not heere ? 
Rof. 'Tis he, flinke by, and note him. 248 



244. when'\ what Han. 

246. Scene VII. Pope + . 
Enter...] After line 248, Dyce. 

247. out'\ontY^, 



247. heere\ neere F,. near F^F^. 

248. flinke\ fling F^F^. 

Cel. and Ros. retire. Theob. 



of Inquiry ^ &c. 1595, where it is compared to the music of a tabor: ' Good people, 
beware of wooers' promises, they are like the musique of a tabor and pipe : the pipe 
says golde, giftes, and many gay things ; bat performance is moralised in the tabor, 
which bears the burden of '' I doubt it, I doubt it" ' So in MucA Ado, III, iv, 44, 
Margaret says, ' Qap's into ** Light o' love ;** that goes without a burden * [there 
being no man or men on the stage to sing one. — Chappell] : * do you sing it, and I'll 

dance it' Ugh/ 0* Lave was therefore strictly a baUety to be sung and danced 

Many of these burdens were short proverbial expressions, such as : * 'Tis merry in hall 
when beards wag all.' .... Other burdens were mere nonsense, words that went glibly 
off the tongrue, giving the accent of the music, such as hey nonny, nonny no ; hey derry 
down, &c. [See IV, ii, 14.] 

247. bring me out] Almost a repetition of what she had just said ; which explains 
itself. Wright cites Lovis Lab. L. V. ii, 171 : 'They do not mark me, and that 
brings me out.' If the reference in the present instance be not exclusively to music, 
our modem idiom has merely substituted /«/ for * bring.' — Ed. 

248. Cowden-Clarke : One of Shakespeare's touches of womanly nature. Rosa- 
lind, so eager to hear of him, so impatient to extract every particle of description of him, 
the instant she sees Orlando approach, draws back, and defers the moment of meet- 
ing him. In the first place, she cannot bear to join him while he has another person 
with him, and waits till Jaques is gone ; in the next place, she wishes to look upon 
him before she looks at him face to face ; and lastly, she is glad to have an interval 
wherein to recover from her first emotion at hearing he is near, ere she accosts him in 
person. Dramatically, also, the poet is skilful in this pause ; he gives opportunity for 
the dialogue between Jaques and Orlando, showing them together, and making the 
latter avow his passion for Rosalind (in her very presence, though unconsciously) 
before he brings the lover to his mistress. Lady Martin (p. 405) : It was surely 
a strange perversion which assigned Rosalind, as it once assigned Portia, to actresses 
whose strength lay only in comedy. Even the joyous, buoyant side of her nature 
could hardly have justice done to it in their hands ; for that is so inextricably mingled 
with deep womanly tenderness, with an active intellect disciplined by fine culture, as 
well as tempered by a certain native distinction, that a mere comedian could not give 
the true tone and colouring even to her playfulness and her wit. These forest scenes 
between Orlando and herself are not, as a comedy actress would be apt to make them, 
merely pleasant fooling. At the core of all that Rosalind says and does lies a passion- 
ate love as pure and all-absorbing as ever swayed a woman's heart Surely it was the 
finest and boldest of all devices, one in which only a Shakespeare could have ventiu^d, 
to put his heroine into such a position that she could, without revealing her own secret. 



ACT III. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 165 

laq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith 
I had as liefe haue beene my felfe alone. 250 

OrL And fo had I : but yet for fafhion fake 
I thanke you too, for your focietie. 

laq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can. 

OrL I do defire we may be better ftrangers. 254 

251, 252. Prose, Pope et seq. Wh. Dyce. ht vn* Cla. Rife, de with 

253. buy\ Ff, Cam. b^tt^ Rowe+. Steev. et cet 
be ft/ Cap. Mai. Sta. bye. Coll. b' wi* 

probe the heart of her lover to the very bottom, and so assure herself that the love which 
possessed her own being was as completely the master of his. Neither could any but 
Shakespeare have so carried out this daring design, that the woman, thus rarely placed 
for gratifying the impulses of her own heart and testing the sincerity of her lover's, should 
come triumphantly out of the ordeal, charming us during the time of probation by wit, 
by fancy, by her pretty womanly waywardness playing like summer lightning over her 
throbbing tenderness of heart, and never in the gayest sallies of her happiest moods 
losing one grain of our respect. No one can study this play without seeing that, 
through the guise of the brilliant-witted boy, Shakespeare meant the charm of the 
high-hearted woman, strong, tender, delicate, to make itself felt. Hence it is that 
Orlando finds the spell which * heavenly Rosalind ' had thrown around him drawn 
hourly closer and closer, he knows not how, while at the same time he has himself 
been winning his way more and more into his mistress's heart. Thus, when at last 
Rosalind dofis her doublet and hose and appears arrayed for her bridal, there seems 
nothing strange or unmeet in this somewhat sudden consummation of what has in 
truth been a lengthened wooing. The actress will, in my opinion, fail signally in her 
task who shall not suggest all this, and who shall not leave upon her audience the 
impression that when Rosalind resumes her state at her father's court she will bring 
into it as much grace and dignity as by her bright spirits she had brought of sunshine 
and cheerfulness into the shades of the forest of Arden. 

249-254. Both Walker {^Crit. i, l) and Abbott (§511) suggest that this passage is 
Terse. The arrangement proposed by the former happens, however, to be exacUy the 
division of lines as given here in the Folio. Unless the whole scene were converted 
into verse, it is not easy to see what gain would accrue from thus converting these few 
lines. We must not foiget how seldom Shakespeare's prose in serious passages is 
wholly unrhythmical; it is almost alwajrs metric. — ^Ed. 

250. my selfe] Abbott, § 20 (foot-note) : * Mjrself ' seems here used for our by 
myself, 

253. Qod buy you] Walker ( Ven, 227) : God be with ycu is in fact Godb^ wi' 
you ; sometimes a trisyllable, sometimes contracted into a dissyllable ;^-now Good bye. 
(Quere, whether the substitution of good for God was not the work of the Puritans, 
who may have considered the familiar use of God's name in the common form of 
leave-taking as irreverent ? I suggest this merely as a may-be^ This form is vari- 
ously written in the Folio and in old editions of our other dramatists ; sometimes it 
is in full, even when the metre requires the contraction ; at others God b* wP ye, God 
be wy you, God bwy, God buy, &c. I have noticed the form God i^ wC you as late as 
Smollett [JRotUrick Random, chap, iii) : < B' wye, old gentleman ' ; if not later. 



i66 AS YOU UKE IT [act hi, sa ik 

laq. I pray you marre no more trees with Writing 255 
Loue-fongs in their barkes. 

Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verfes with rea- 
ding them ill-fauouredly. 

laq. Ro/aHnde is your loues nam^ Orl. Yes^ lull. 

laq. I do not like her name. 260 

Orl. There was no thought of pleafing you when ftie 
was chriften'd. 

laq. What ftature is flie of? 

Orl. luil as high as my heart 

laq. You are ful of prety anfwers : haue you not bin ac- 265 
quainted with goldfmiths wiues,& cond th5 out of rings 

257. moe\ Cla. Rife, mo Mai. more 266. cond^ cottn'd Rowe. conned 

Ffetcet Knt. 

261. no\ not F,. 

257. moe] SxxAT: The moden EngHdi word more does duty for two Middle 
English words whidh were, generally, well 4istingiiidied, viz. : mo and more, the former 
relating to number, the latter to size. x. Middle Englifth mo, moie in nmnber, addi- 
tionaL *Mo than thxies ten '••more tiian thirty in number; Chaucer, C. T. ST^.— 

Ang, Sax. md, both as a(^. and adv., Grein,ii, 201 This A. S. md seems to have 

been originally an adrerbial fern ; it is cognate with Ger. moAr, Goth, mats, adv., Lat 
aM^. .... 2. Mid. £ng. nt«rv, larger in size, bigger; ' snore and lesse ' — greater and 
smaller, Chaucer, C. T. 6516. (The distinction between mo and more is not tUmt^ 
observed in old anthofS,bat very often it appears clearly enough) — ^A. S. mirs, greater, 
laiger; Greio, ii, 2x2. .... This is really a double con^>arative, with the additional 
oomp. suffix -Ttf. .... It deserves to be noted that some grammarians, perceiviBg that 
W90-re has one oonpasative suffix more than mo, have rushed to the conclusion that 
fvtf is a positive form. This is false ; the positive forms are mickle, much, and ^)rac- 
licaily) mmny^ [A aomewhat different ground of distinction is laid down by the 
German grammarians, with whom Wright appaiently agrees. It was suggested fint 
by MoMMSBN (I ^peak subject to correction), in his edition of Rom. 6f*. Jul. p. X2 
(dted by Mfttzncr, i, 277, trans. Grece); who, on die authority of an assertion by 
Alexander Gil that mo is plural in form, said diat he * knew of scarcely a single pas- 
sage in any poet of that age where mo was used with the singular.' The inference is 
that he held m« to be used with plurals and nwre with singulars. What we merely 
infer firom Mommsen is laid down with emphasis by Koch (GrammaHk, ii, 20^-* 
cited by Wright), who says : * The difference seems to be firmly fixed that more is 
used with the singular and mo with the plural; whence it comes that the oldest 
grammarians, like Gil and Wallis, set forth mo as the coapmUive of wumy, and mare 
6ie compandve of much. Finally, Wkight, with a broader knowledge, says that 
< die distincdon appears to be that ** mot " is used only with die plural, ** more " both 
widi singular and pUsal.' See Wright's 'Additional Note,' V, i, 34.— -Ed.] 

266. wiues . . . rings] The shop-keqpers wives decked out in fine clothes were 
wont to sit before their doors, and had it in their power by their engaging manners 
gready to augment dieir husbands' custom. Goldsmiths' Row In Cheapside was the 




ACT III. sc ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 16; 

OrL Not fo : but I anfwer you right painted cloath| ^7 
from whence you haue ftudied your queftions. 

laq. You haue a nimble wit ; I thinke 'twad made of 
Attalantafs heeles« Will you fitte downe with me, and ^70 
wee two^ will raile againft our Miftris the worlds and ail 
our mlferie. 272 

267. you] your Mason. 468* your] you F^. 

right'\ rightfKiy^rt, rigkiin the 271. Miftris} mistress^ Pc^ + , Cap. 

style of the Yim, Mai. 

pride of London for its display of glittering ware, and naturally a resort for young 
fqps with more money than brains. The sneer at Orlando is not even thinly yetled. 
In Arber's English Garner^ i, 611, Is to be found a collection of Love Posies for rings, 
many hundred in number, from a MS of about 1596. Other specimens of them may 
be found in Tusser's Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry, and Wright reien to 
Fairholt's Rambles of an Archaologisty pp. 142, 143. — £d. 

267. painted cloath] Capell : In the painted cloth style, t . e. briefly and pithily. 
Tapestries are improperly caird painted cloths : therefore the cloths here alluded to 
seem rather those occasional paintings that were indeed done upon doth, L e. Hnneil 
or canvas ; and hung out by the citizens Upon different publick occasions, but chiefly 
—entries ; the figures on these cloths were sometimes made to converse and ask ques* 
tions, by labels coming out of their mouths ; and these are (he speeches that Jaqiiei 
is accused of studying. There was also a furniture of painted doth ; (he derioes tnd 
legends of one of them, the possessors of Sir Thomas More*s woriui may See among 
his poems. [Steevens was evidently one of these possessors ; he quotes from Sir 
Thomas Morels Works, 1557 :] < Mayster Thomas More in hys youth devysed in hyi 
father's house in London, a goodly hangyng of fyne paynted clothe, with nine 
pageauntes and verses over every of those pageaontes ; which verses expretted and 
declared what the ymages in those pageauntes represented! and abo in those 
pageauntes were paynted the thynges that the verses over (hem dyd (in effecte) 
declare.' [Theobald having spoken of this * painted cloth ' as ' tapestry,' Nares coi^ 
lects him, and 8a3rs < it was really cloth or canvas painted in oil with various devices 
or mottoes. Tapestry, being both more costly and less durable, was nnich less used, 
except in splendid apartments; nor though coloured could it properly be called 
<' painted." ' [Steevens, Malone, Knight, Halliwell, all give lefierences thronghooC 
Elixabethan literature to this painted doth, with specimens of the mottoes, but refer- 
ences from Shakespeare himself are all that is needful, and are fiEor more satiafactoty.] 
Theobald : See R, of L. 244 : < Who fears a sentence, or an old mans saw Shall by 
a pafaited doth be kept in awe.' Wright : The scenes were frequently of Scriptait 
subjects. Compare / Hen, IV: IV, ii, 28: 'Slaves as ragged as Lazams m tbt 
painted cloth.' And m Hen, IV: II, i, 157 : <And for thy walls, a pretty tfight 
drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in waCer-woik, is worth 
a thousand of these fly-bitten tapestries.' Rolte : Compare Loif^s Lah, L, V, U, 
579, and Thf. ^f Cress, V, x, 47. Johnson : This may mean, I give you a trtte 
painted cloth answer; as we say, she talks right Billingsgate; that is, exactly iscll 
language as is used at Billingsgate. [For the oonstraction see * speake sadde ht^mf 
line 209; and for ' right ' see < right Batterwonias rank,' line 96.] 



i68 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. u. 

Orl^ wil chide no breather in the world but my felfe 273 
againft whom I know mod faults. 

laq. The word fault you haue,is to be in loue. 275 

Orl. *Tis a feult I will not change, for your beft ver- 
tue : I am wearie of you. 

lag. By my troth, I was feeking for a Foole, when I 
found you. 

Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and 280 
you ftiall fee him. 

laq. There I ftial fee mine owne figure. 

OrL Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher. 

laq. He tarrie no longer with you, ferewell good fig- 
nior Loue. 285 

Orl. I am glad of your departure : Adieu good Mon- 
iieur Melancholly. 

Rof. I wil fpeake to him like a fawcie Lacky. and vn- 
der that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear For- 

Orl. Verie wel, what would you ? (refter. 290 

273. breather] brother Rowe i. 287. CcL and Ros. come forward. 

274. mo/f\ no Ff, Rowe« Pope, Han. Theob. 

275. you] yon F,. 288. Aside to Cel. Cap. 

285. Exit.] Rowe. After line 287, 289. himy] him: Rowe+. him~^ 
Cap. Johns, him. Cap. et seq. 

286. Scene VIII. Pope+. 

273. breather] M alone: So in the 8ist Sonnet: < When all the breathers of this 
world are dead.' Again, in Ant. 6f* CUop^ III, iii, 24 : < She shows a body rather 
than a life, A statue than a breather.' Halliwell : < Let a man examine himself; 
for if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.' — / Corinthians^ xi. It is 
Law, if I recollect rightly, who observes, not imagining he was nearly quoting Shake- 
speare, that every man knows something worse of himself than he is sure of with 
respect to others. Moberly : As Jaques had been routed by the Duke's sound and 
vigorous reflections in II, vii, so here Orlando's sound-heaitedness, and afterwards 
Rosalind's caustic criticisms, make short work with his melancholic view of life. 

274. know most faults] See Text Notes. It is to be regretted that neither Pope 
nor Hanmer has vouchsafed to us an interpretation of this fine speech, which, by fol- 
knring the later Folios, they have transformed fixnn modest humility to the extreme 
of boastful arrogance. — Ed. 

282. Is it quite in keeping with Jaqnes's mother-wit that be should thus tamely lall 
into the trap set for him by Orlando ? — Ed. 

283. Cipher] White (ed. ii) : A pun on ' sigh for,' with an allusion to Narcissus. 
[Grant White, in his Preface (p. xii), sajrs that * in determining what passages were 
sufficiently obscure to justify explanation,' he ' took advice of his washerwoman.' It 
is a comfort to know the source of die foregoing note. — Ed.] 

289. Lady Maetin (p. 418) : At this moment Orlando is seen approaching with 



ACT III, sc. U.] AS YOU LIKE IT 169 

Rof. I pray you, what i'ft a clocke ? 291 

OrL You fhould aske me what time oMay: there's no 
clocke in the Forreft. 

Rof. Then there is no true Louer in the Forreft, elfe 
fighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold 295 
deteft the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke. 

OrL And why not the fwift foote of time ? Had not 
that bin as proper ? 

Rof. By no meanes fir ; Time trauels in diuers paces, 
with diuers perfons : He tel you who Time ambles with- 300 
all, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, 
and who he ftands ftil withall. 302 

299. /tfr«] places FjF^, Rowc i. 300. diuers\ diver/e F,. 

Jaques through the trees. A glance assures Rosalind that it is indeed he ; but now 
the woman's natural shyness at being discovered in so strange a suit comes over her. 
'Slink by and note him,' she says; and withdrawing along with Celia to a point 
where she may see and not be seen, she listens, with what delight we may conceive, 
to the colloquy in which her lover more than holds his own when the misanthrope 
Jaques rallies him on being in love and marring the forest trees < with writing love- 
songs in their bark.' On the assurance given by Orlando's answers that she is the 
very Rosalind of these songs, her heart leaps with delight Not for the world would 
she have Orlando recognise her in her unmaidenly disguise; but now a sudden 
inq>ulse determines her to risk all, and even to turn it to account as the means of test- 
ing his love. Boldness must be her friend, and to avert his suspicion her only course 
is to put on a ' swashing and a martial outside,' and to speak to him * like a saucy 
laquey, and under that habit play the knave with him.' He must not be allowed for 
an instant to surmise the * hidden woman's fear ' that lies in her heart. Besides, it is 
only by resort to a rough and saucy greeting and manner that she could mask and 
keep under the trembling of her voice and the womanly tremor of her limbs. I 
alwajrs gave her * Do you hear, forester ?' with a defiant air, as much as to say, < What 
are you, a stranger, doing here, intruding in the forest on those who are " natives of 
the place " ?' With such a swagger, too, that Orlando feels inclined to turn round 
ihaiply upon the boy, as he had just done upon the C3mical Jaques. 

295, 296. Abbott refers to Rich, II: V, v, 50, etc. : < For now hath time made me 
his numbering clock ; My thoughts are minutes ; and with sighs they jar Their watches 
on unto mine eyes, the outward watch. Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is point- 
ing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is 
Are dambrous groans, which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell ; so sighs and 
tears and groans Show minutes, times, and hours.' 

296. detect] Allen (MS) : To < detect ' rather implies discovery by indications 
(reKfjt^piov). Then, taking the liberty (as Shakespeare does) to use the verb intransi- 
tively, it may mean here : A groan once an hour and a sigh once every minute jw^ 
indications of the progress of time. 

300, &c. who] See Abbott, § 274, for many, other examples of this common use of 
' who ' for whom. 



I70 AS you LIKE IT [act hi. sc. ii. 

Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal t 303 

3031 316. who'\ whom Ff, Rowe+, Cap. 

303-315. Mrs Griffith (p. 84, foot-note) says that to * trot bard * means fa trot 
high, < which is the most fatiguing rate to a traveller.' Hunter (i, 349) : This por- 
tion of this very sprightly dialogue appears to have undergone dislocation at a very 
early period, for the old copies and the new are alike. To trot hardy at least in the 
present use of the phrase, is a rapid motion, only just below the gallop. How, then, 
can it be said that Time * trots hard ' when a se'ennight seems as long as seven years ? 
A slow motion is intended, such as is meant by the word ambling. Again, Time 
passes swiftly with the easy priest and the luxurious rich man who is free firom gout. 
He * trots hard ' with them. And that this transposition is required appears fh)m the 
order in which Rosalind proposed to show the divers paces of Time with diveiis per- 
sons: I. ambling; 2. trotting; 3. galloping. I would therefore propose to regulate 
the passage thus : ^Orl. I prythee who ambles Time withal ? Ros. Marry, he ambles 
with a young maid, &c. Time's pace is so ambling, &c. OrL Who doth he trot 
withal ? Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, &c. There Time trots withal.' If this 
is not accepted we are driven to the supposition that when Shakespeare speaks of 
* trotting hard ' a slow motion is intended, and that ambling denotes a swift motion, 
neither of which can, I think, be maintained. Whits : Of all the means of making 
a short journey seem long, a hard-trotting horse is the surest ; while an ambling nag, 
on the contrary, afibrds so easy and luxurious a mode of travelUng that the ridef 
arrives all too soon at his joiuney's end. That Rosalind's comparison is between 
comfort and discomfort, not speed and slowness, is, beside, conclusively shown by het 
saying, afterward, that Time gallops with a thief to the gallows, < for though he go At 
softly as foot can fall^ he thinks himself too soon there.' Haluwell : Can this 
[* He trots hard with a young maid '] be accepted that Time appears so long to her 
that it increases the necessary pace to enable him to overcome it ? The repetition of 
the word hard shows that it is unlikely there is any misprint, but the term may per* 
haps here be interpreted, with difficulty ^ very slowly, ' Solid bodies foreshow rain, aft 
boxes and pegs of wood when they draw and wind hard.^ — Bacon. * Time goes on 
cratches, till love hath all his rites.' — Much Ado [H, i, 372, cited by Malone]. It is 
perhaps possible that Rosalind is referring to the idea that in matters of ardent desirb 
even rapidity is reckoned a delay. < In desiderio etiam celeritas mora est-— in desyre, 
in a thing that a man coveteth, even spede is counted a taryaunce.' — ^Taveraer's Mmi 
Publianiy 1539 [cited by Caldecott]. Wright: The following defmition from 
Holme's Armoury ^ B. II, c. 7, p. 150, justifies the original arrangement: 'Trot, or a 
Trotting Horse, when he sets hard and goes of an uneasy rate.' The point is not 
that Time goes fast, but that he goes at an uneasy pace, and therefore seems to be 
slow. [I caxmot but agree with Hunter, not in any exchange of the phrases, but that, 
in the case of the young maid it is the rate of the pace, not its quality, to which 
Rosalind refers. I think that here < hard ' means fast. The speed of the trot is 
increased by the shortness of the time. Invert the order of the sentence : ' If the 
interim be but a sennight. Time will trot hard.' Are we not compelled here to inter- 
pret * hard ' z&fast f What effect can the flight of time have on the quality of a trot 
other than on its speed ? How can any shortness of the interim make a trot jaun- 
cing ? The faster the trot, as every one knows, the easier it is. That the time seems 
long because the trot is jauncing is a mere inference ; in actual experience the com- 
fort or discomfort of such a trot depends not a Uttle on the use smd wont of the rider. 




ACT in, sc. fi.] AS YOU LIKE IT 171 

Rof. Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between 
the contraft of her marriage, and the day it is folemnizd: 305 
if the interim be but a fennight^ Times pace is fo hard, 
that it feemes the length of feuen yeare. 

OrL Who ambles Time withal ? 

Rof. With a Pried that lacks Ladne, and a rich man 
that hath not the Gowt : for the one fleepes eafily be- 310 
caufe he cannot (hidy, and the other liues merrily, be- 
caufe he feeles no paine : the one lacking the burthen of 
leane and wafteful Learning; the other knowing no bur- 
then of heauie tedious penurie. Thefe Time ambles 
withal. 315 

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 

Rof. With a theefe to the gallowes : for though hee 
go as fofUy as foot can iall, he thinkes himfelfe too foon 
tfiere. 

Ori. Who ftaies it ftil withal? 320 

Rof. With Lawiers in the vacation : for they fleepe 
betweene Terme and Terme,and then they perceiue not 
how time moues. 

OrL Where dwel you prettie youth ? 

Rof. With this Shepheardefle my fifter : heere in the 325 
skirts of the Forreft, like fringe vpon a petticoat. 

Orl. Are you natiue of this place ? 

Rof, As the Conie that you fee dwell where fliee is 
kindled. 329 

307. yeare] years F^, Rowc+, Mai. ^20,Jaus W] Uands hi Coll. (MS) 

Steev. Coll. Sing. Ktly. ai, iii. 

320. Who] Whom Ff, Rowe + . 329. kindled] kind-led Yo^ i. 

Unquestionably, * hard ' may be applied to a trot in the sense of uneasy ^ and it is 
apparently so used in Wright's citation fix)m Holme's Armoury^ but I doubt if it can 
be restricted to this sense. Hunter thinks that a < slow motion ' is intended when Rosa- 
lind says that * Time's pace is so hard that a sennight seems the length of seven years.' 
To me it implies fast motion, seven years are compressed into a week ; the thoughts, 
hopes, wishes, prayers of seven yean are felt and lived through while ' * the happy 
pbmet dips forward under starry light' only seven times. — Ed.J 

307. yeare] Wright : We still use po%ind and sUme with plural numerals as did 
HanUet, III, ii, 298: <ril take the Ghost's word for a thousand pound.' Other 
inatances of this use are in Tam. cf Shr^ Induct. II, 115 ; / Hen. IV: II, iv, 50; ^ 
Hm. IV: III, ii, 224.— Note on Temp. I, a, 53. [See V, ii, 62.] 

327. natiue] Wright : ' Native,' as applied to persons, is always an adjectiTe in 
Shakespeare. 



172 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii. 

Orl. Your accent is fomething finer, then you could 330 
purchafe in fo remoued a dwelling. 

Rof. I haue bin told fo of many : but indeed, an olde 
religious Vnckle of mine taught me to fpeake, who was 
in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtfhip too 
well : for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read ma- 335 
ny Leftors againft it, and I thanke Grod,I am not a Wo- 
man to be touch'd with fo many giddie offences as hee 
hath generally taxM their whole fex withal. 

Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils, 
that he laid to the charge of women? 340 

Rof. There were none principal ^ they were all like 

336. Ledors] LeOurs F,. Lectures 336. and'\Om. F^F^, Rowc+. . 

F F 

329. kindled] Skeat : To bring forth young. Middle English, kindlefiy kundlen, 
. . . . Cf. also : ^Kyndlyn^ or brynge forthe yonge kjrndelyngis, Feto^ effeto,^ — Prompt, 
Parv. p. 275. And in Wyclif, Luke iii, 7, we find * kyndlis of edderis ' in the earlier, 
and < kyndlyngis of eddris ' in the later version, where the A. V. has < generation of 
vipers.' .... It refers, in general, to a numerous progeny, a litter, especially with 
regard to rabbits, &c. [It is still in common use in this country, and alwajrs, I 
believe, restricted to rabbits. — Ed.] Cambridge Editors: In F^ and in Rowe-a 
two editions the word ' kindled ' happens to be in two lines, and therefore divided 
by a hyphen. Pope, misled by this, printed it in his first edition as a compound, 
* kind-led,' interpreting it probably with reference to the gregarious habits ti the ani- 
mal in question. 

331. purchase] That is, simply, to acquire. In technical legal language all land, 
howsoever acquired, other than by descent, is by purchase. — ^£d. 

331. remoued] Reed : That is, remote, sequestered. 

332. of many] See II, i, 54 or Abbott, § 170. 

333. religious] Moberly: An uncle of mine, who is an aged monk or her- 
mit Abbott (p. 456) refers to Rich* II: V, i, 23 : < Cloister thee in some religious 
house.' 

334. inland] See II, vii, loi. 

334. Courtship] White: That is, court life. Schmidt: Used in the double 
sense of civility and elegance of manners and of courting or wooing. So also Rom. 
^ Jul. Ill, iii, 34: 'more honourable state, more courtship lives in carrion-flies than 
Romeo.' 

335. there] Allen (MS) : That is, at the court, implied in < courtship.' 

336. L>ectors] White : This is one of the many evidences that the English of 
Shakespeare's time has been remarkably preserved, even in sound, by the inhabitants 
of New England. Throughout the Eastern States, even among a large proportion of 
those who are < inland-bred and know some culture,' lecture is pronounced iectur, 
Wright : In the same way in Bacon's Advatuement of Learnings 1605, p. 30, < ver^ 
dure is spelt ** verdor." ' 

337. touch'd] Cowden-Clarke : That is, tainted, infected. 



ACT III, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 173 

one another, as halfe pence are, euerie one fault feeming 342 
monftrous,til his fellow-fault came to match it 

Orl. I prethee recount some of them. 

Rof. No: I wil not caft away my phyfick, but on thofe 345 
that are ficke. There is a man haunts the Forreft, that a- 
bufes our yong plants with earning Rofalinde on their 
barkes; hangs Oades vpoh Hauthomes, and Elegies on 
brambles; all (forfooth) defying the name ol Rofalinde. 
If I could meet that Fancie- monger, I would giue him 350 
fome good counfel, for he feemes to haue the Quotidian 
of Loue vpon him. 

Orl. I am he that is fo Loue-fhakM, I pray you tel 
me your remedie. 354 

• 

342. euerie oHe'\ every ones F^F^. 348. barkes] borkes F,. 

Rowc. 349. defying] deifying Ff. 

342. halfe pence] Wright : No ludfjpence were coined in Elizabeth's reign til] 
1582-3. Bacon refers to <the late new halfpence' in the Dedication to the first 
edition of his Essays^ which was published in 1597. Thej all had the portcullis with 
a mint mark, and on the reverse a cross moline with three pellets in each angle, so 
that, in comparison with the great variety in coins of other denominations then in dr- 
culation, there was a propriety in saying < as like one another as halfjpence are.' They 
were used till 1601. See Folkes, Table of Silver CoinSj p. 57. 

343. monstrous] One of Walker's most valuable chapters is that on < Omissions 
in consequence of Absorption' (Crit. ii, 254). On p. 264 he cites the present pas- 
sage, and after it, follows, without comment, *Most monstrous ' ; which is, to me, a 
decidedly plausible conjecture. The fault was not made less monstrous by having a 
fellow-fault. It was its pre-eminence, its superlative degree, that was thereby taken 
from it.— Ed. 

344. recount some of them] Lady Martin (p. 420) : What an opening here 
for her to put her lover to the test, to hear him say all that a loving woman most longs 
to hear from him she loves, and he all the while ignorant that he is laying bare his 
heart before her! 

350. Fancie] Love. 

351. Quotidian] Rushton [Shakespeare s EuphuisMy p. 90) : < Doubdesse if euer 
she [liuia] hir selfe haue bene scorched with the flames of desire, she wil be redy to 
quench the coales with courtesie in an other ; if euer she haue bene attached of loue, 
she wil rescue him that is drenched in desire : if euer she haue ben taken with the 
feuer of fancie, she will help his ague, who by a quotidian fit is conuerted into 
phrensie.' [Lily's Euphues^ p. 66, ed. Arber, — ^Wright In Greene's Planeto- 
machioy 1585, we find * the peculiar affections of those men, in whom she [Venus] 
is predomjmant,' and on p. 103 (ed. Grcsart), quotidian fevers are expressly men- 
tioned as a symptom of love ; we there read : < the peculiar diseases to this starre are 
Cathais, Coryse Branchy [qu. Coryza?], Lethargies, Palsies, .... quotidian feuers, 
paines in the heade.' — ^Ed.] 



174 ^^ you LIKE IT [act hi. sc. tk 

Rof. There is none af my Vnckks markes vpon you: 555 
he taught me how to know a man in loue : in which cage 
of rufhes, I am fure you art not prifoner. 

OrL What were his markes ? 

Rof. A leane cheeke, which you haue not : a blew eie 
and funken, which you haue not : an vnqueftionable Q)i- 360 
rit, which you haue not : a beard neglected, which you 
haue not:rt)ut I pardon you for that, for fimply your ha- 
uing in beard^ is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your 
hofe fhould be vngarter^d, your bonnet vnbanded, your 364 

357. art} F,. 363. m] no Fi, Rcfwe, Pope. 

355. There is . . . markes] See Abbott, § 335, for other instances of * the inflec- 
tion in 'S preceding a plural subject' 

356, 357. cag« of rushea} C. H. Hart {Mw SA. Soc. Trans., 1877-9, PL iii, p. 
402) : * Gige * of course means prison here ; but if * cage of rushes ' be not taken to 
mean a rush ring, or to allude to it, the phrase seems to me meaningless and de p riv ed 
of its pitk. [For rusk rings, used in mock ceremonies of marriage, and much con- 
ducing hereby to immorality, see Nares, s. Vk ; Brand's Po^, Ant. ii, p. 107 ; Skeat^i 
Ikua NobU Kins. IV, I, S8— all cited by Hart. I doid)t if there be more of an alhi- 
akm here to a custom, low and vu^ar at its best, than might be suggested by the mere 
chance use of the word. It is in keeping with Rosalind's assumed disbeKef in Uke 
strength of Orlando's k>ve, that she should refer to the bars of his prison as no more 
than rushes. — Ed.] 

359. blew eie] Steevens: That in, bhieBess about the eyes. White: That is, 
hoUow-eyed. * Bhie e3re8 ' were called grey in Shakespeare's time. See * blue-eyed 
hag,' Temp. I, ii, 370. 

360. vnquestioiiablo] Chamier: Unwilling to be convened with. M. Mason-: 
So in [III, iv, 34] RoeaHod says she had * much question ' with the Duke. And itt' 
V, iv, 165, the Duke was converted after < some question with an old religious man;' 
In both places, 'questkm^ means discourse or convettsaHon. [For mai^ moie 
instances, see Schmidt, /. v. * Question,' die noi» and die verb. White refers ti>> 
* Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,'— /^»i». I, iv, 43, where the word is used 
in exactly the same sense ; that is, thou com'st in a shape so proper to be questioned, 
and yet this line is often quoted as if * questionable ' meant * su^icious.'] 

362. hauing] Steevens : ' Having ' is possession, estate. So in Merry Wives, III, 
11, 73: 'The gentleman is of no having.' [For nine or ten other examples see 
Schmidt] 

364. vngarter'd] Malone: The established and characteristical marks by which 
the votaries of love were denoted in the time of Shakespeare. Thus, in The Fair 
Maid of the Exchange, by He3rwood, 1637 : ' Shall I that have jested at lovers' sig^ 
now raise whirlwinds ? Shall I, that have flouted cth / m^s once a quarter, now prac- 
tise ah ! M^s every minute ? Shall I defy hatbands, and tread garters and shoe-swings 
under my feet ? Shall I fall to £dling-bands and be a ruff-an no longer t I must ; I 
am now liege-man to Cupid, and have read all diese informations in his book of Stat- 
utes.' — [p. 22, ed. Sh. Soc. Evidently these signs of love were unmistakeable in the 



Ik. 



ACT ni. sc. U,] AS YOU UKE IT 17S 

fleeue vnbutton'd^ your (hoo vnti'de, and euerie thing 365 
about you, demonftrating a careleffe defolation : but you 
are no fuch man] you are rather point deuice in your ac« 
couftrements, as louing your felfe, then feeming the Lo- 
uer of any other. (I Loue. 

Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee belecue 370 
Rof. Me beleeue it ? You nuty aflbone make her that 

367. poini^ a point F^F^. 367, 368. accoufiremnUsl Ff. Accm- 

point deuice] pomt-de-vUe Johns. trements Rowe. 
point-devise Dyce. 

speaker's mind ; what he h$s just said is after he had seen the Fair Maid of the 
Exchange; before he had seen her he says (p. 18) : 'if evVy tale of love, Or love 
itself, or fool-bewitching beauty, Make me cross-arm myself, study ak-m^s. Defy my 
hatband, tread beneath my feet Shoe-stringi and gaiters, practise in my glass Dis- 
tressed looks, and dry my liver up, With sighs enough to wind an argo^, If ever I 
turn thus fantastical, Love plague me/] Again, in How a Man may Choose a Good 
Wife from a Bad, 1602 : * I was once like thee, A sigher, melancholy humorist. 
Grosser of arms, a goer without garters, A hatband-hater, and a busk-point wearer/— « 
[I, iii, p. 17, ed. HazUtt Hamlet*s ^ungartered stockings ' will occur to every one.— 
Ed.] 

364. vnbanded] The foregoing extracts^ cited by Malone, fairly illustrate this 
whole passage. Wright quotes from The Anatomie of Abuses, 1583, where Stubbes 
describes the fashions of hats : < An other sort have round crownes, sometimes with 
one kinde of bande, sometimes with an other ; nowe blacke, now white, now russet, 
now red, now greene^ now yellowe, now this, nowe that, never content with one 
colour or fashion two dayea to an ende. .... Besides this, of late there is a new 
fashion of wearing their Hattes sprung vp amongst them, which they father vpon the 
Frenchmen, namely to weare them without bandes; but how vnseemelie (I will not 
say how Assy) a fashion that is, let the wise judge.'— (p. 52, Collier's Reprint) [Part 
I, pp. 50, 51, ed. New Sh. Soc] 

367. point deuice] Stssvsns : That is, drest with 6nical nicety. So in Lov^s 
Lab. L. V, i, 21 : < I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point- 
devise companions.* Skeat : A shortened form of the older phrase at point device^ 
equivalent to with great nicety or exactitude, as : < With limmes [limbs] wrought at 
point device;^ — Rom, of tkt Rose, 1. 830; a translation of Old French, 'i^ point devis, 
i^ccording to a point [of exactitude] that is devised or imagined, &. ^. in the best way 
imaginable. 

Fletcher (p. 216): Who does not see the pleasure with which, under her 
^cted disbelief, she dwells on the contrast which Orlando's neatness of personal 
appearance presents to that of the ordinary but less healthy kind of lover, * about 
whom everything demonstrates a careless desolation.' 

367, 368. acGOUstiements] Wright : The early form of the French word. In 
King John, I, i, 211, and in Tom. Shr. Ill, ii, 121, it occurs in the modem spelling. 

371. Me beleeue it] Kekshtley's text reads *Make me believe it,' and in a note 
(Exp, 160) he says : < Surely the passage thus gains not only in metre, but in spirit' 
[This is the second time (see line 84 above) that Keighlley in a prose passage appeals 



176 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. ii, 

you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant (he is apter to do, 372 
then to confeffe (he do's : that is one of the points, in the 
which women ftil g^ue the lie to their confciences. But 
in good footh, are you he that hangs the verfes on the 375 
Trees, wherein Rofalind is fo admired ? 

OrL I fweare to thee youth, by the white hand of 
Rofalindy I am that he, that vnfortunate he. 

Ros. But are you fo much in loue, as your rimes fpeak ? 

OrL Neither rime nor reafon can expreffe how much. 380 

Rof: Loue is meerely a madnefle, and I tel you, de- 
ferue?' Ss^wel a YfiHce houfe, iiljd'-a'^hip, as madmen do : 
and the reafon why they are not fo puni(hM and cured, is 
that the Lunacie is fo ordinarie, that the whippers are in 
loue too : yet I profeffe curing it by counfel. 385 

OrL Did you euer cure any fo ? 

Rof, Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to ima- 
gine me his Loue, his Miftris .• and I fet him euerie day 
to woe me At which time would I, being but a mooni(h 
youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and 390 
liking, proud, fantaftical, api(h, (hallow, inconftant, ful 

381. and'\ andf Rowe, Theob. et seq. 389, &c. woe] woo Rowe. 

to the needs of metre. I suppose that he Msiimes all of Shakespeare's prose to be 
metric prose, and he therein comes near the truth. I dare not say how flat his 
present emendation strikes me. * Me believe it !' is absolute Rosalind ; just as, after- 
wards, she says • you a lover !* — ^Ed.] 

378. that he] See line 1 1, or Abbott, § 224. 

380. expresse how much] Lady Martin (p. 421) : Oh, how intently she has 
watched for that answer ! with what secret rapture heard it ! But he must discern 
nothing of this, so, turning carelessly away, and smiling inwardly to think she is her- 
self an illustration of what she says, she exclaims : < Love is merely,' &c. 

381. meerely] Staunton : It may not be impertinent to say, once for all, thif 
' merely,' from the Latin merus, and * mere ' in old language, meant aSso/ts/efy, aUo- 
gether^ purely. See II, vii, 148. In Lodge's Rosalynde : *And forth they pulled 
such victuals as they had, and fed as merely as if they had been in Paris.' 

382. See Malvolio's treatment in Twelfth Night. 

387. Fletcher (p. 217) : Her answer shows us one of those subtle devices by 
which Shakespeare so well knew how to exalt the ideal perfection of a favorite hero- 
ine. The exquisite characterisation which she gives us of feminine caprice in the 
weaker portion of her sex most beautifully sets off that contrary disposition by which 
her every sentence makes us feel that she herself is animated. 

389. moonish] Steevens : That is, variable. Halliwell : It is possible that it 
may, however, be correctly rendered foolish^ weak; for Ben Jonson uses the term 
moonJifig in the sense of a fool or a lunatic. 



ACT III, sc. iL] AS YOU LIKE IT m 

of teares, full of fmiles ; for euerie paflion fomething, and 392 

for no paiTion truly any thing, as boyes and women are 

for the mod part, cattle of this colour : would now like 

him, now loath him : then entertaine him, then forfwear 395 

him : now weepe for him, then fpit at him ; that I draue 

my Sutor from his mad humor of loue,to a liuing humor 

of madnes, w was to forfweare the ful ftream of y world, 

and to Hue in a nooke meerly Monaftick : and thus I cur'd 399 

397. my^ this Rowe. 397. liuing] loving Jolms. conj. Coll. 

Statrr] SuUr F,. Smtor F^F^. i, ii, iii, Dyce, Sta. Huda. 

from] for F^. 398. li] which Ff. 

397. liuing] Johnson : If this be the true reading, we must by < living ' under- 
stand lasting f or permanent; but I cannot forbear to think that some antithesis was 
intended which is now lost ; perhaps the passage stood thus : I drove my suitor from 
a dying humour of love to a living humour of madness. Or rather thus : From a 
mad humour of love to a loving humour of madness, that is. From a madness that 
was lovey to a love that was madness. This seems somewhat harsh and strained, but 
such modes of speech are not unusual in our poet ; and this harshness was probably 
the cause of the corruption. Farmer : Perhaps we should read : to a humour of 
loving madness. Malone : <A living humour of madness ' is, I conceive, a humour 
of living madness^ a mad humour that operates on the mode of living; or, in other 
words, and more accurately, a mad humour of life; * — to forswear the world, and 
live in a nook,* &c. Whiter (p. 51): Compare: *Give me a living reason she's 
disloyal.' — 0th, III, iii, 470. That is, give me a direct^ absolute, and unequivocal 
proof. Why then may not the < living humor of madness ' mean a confirmed, abso- 
lute, and direct state of madness? This signification is easily deduced from the 
sense which the original word bears in the phrases of < Done or expressed to the life * 
— ad vivum expressum. Collier : The antithesis is complete if, with Johnson, we 
read laving, 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 himiour in which he was in love with madness, and forswore 
the world. [It is also loving in Collier's (MS).] White: Loving is plausible, and 
tly antithetical conceit quite in the manner of Shakespeare's time. Walker (Crit, 
iii, 63) : Of course loving, [Walker gives five or six instances where unquestionably 
* live * has been printed love, and * love * live.] Wright : But * living ' in the sense 
of real or actual [as Whiter suggests] gives a very good meaning, and its resemblance 
in sound is sufficiently near to keep up the jingle. [Wherewith the present editor 
entirely agrees. — Ed.] 

399. meerly Monastick] Allen (MS) : I wonder whether it should not be wnt- 
ten : < to live in a nook, merely monastic ' ? That is, ' monastic ' as an adjective in 
the nominative, < he becoming merely monastic,' i. e. absolutely religious, 

399. Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833): Who could resist this? Not 

Orlando ; for, though love-stricken [Qu. because love-stricken ? — ^Ed.], he is full of 

the power of life ; his passion is a joy ; his fear is but slight shadow, his hope strong 

sunshine There is a mysterious spell breathed over his whole being from that 

za 



178 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ni, sc. ii 






him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wafh your Li- 400 
uer as cleane as a found fheepes heart, that there (hal not 
be one fpot of Loue in't 

OrL I would not be cured, youth, 

Rof. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rofar- 
tindj and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me. 405 

Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will ; Tel me 
where it is. 

Rof. Go with me to it, and He fliew it you : and by 
the way, you (hal tell me, where in the Forreft you liue : 
Wil you go f 410 

OrL With all my heart, good youth. 

Rof. Nay, you mufl call mee Rofalindx Come fitter, 
will you go ? Exeunt. 413 

401. eleane\cteare'E^, cUerY^, clear 4C)8. /Sr] /«e^Rowe+. 

F^, Rowe+, Cap. 412. AStj'] Nay, nay F^, Rowc+. 

405. Coaf^ cvU Rofre. cotte Theob. 

sUver speech. Near the happy doae of the play the Duke says to him : < I do remem- 
ber in this shepherd-boy Some Uvely touches of my daughter's favour.' And OrlaiKlo 
answera : ' My lord, die fkst time that I ever saw him, Methonght he was a brother to 
your daughter.' That sweet diought had passed across his mind at dieir first meeting, 
although he did not tell the ' shepherd-boy.' .... And is not tiiis shepherd-boy with 
* lively touches of my daughter's favour ' a thousand times better than a dead picture ? 
It is a living full-length pictive even of Rosalind in a fancy-dress ; and 'tis easy as 
delightful to imagine it die very original's own self, <die slender Rosalind,' *tbe 
heavenly Rosalind,' 'tis * Love's young dream !' 

400, 401. Steevens : This is no very delicate comparison, though pxxluced by 
Rosalind in her assumed character of a shepherd. Halliwell: Tlie liver was con- 
sidered the seat of love. Weight t See The Temp, IV, i, 56 : * The cold white vu-- 
gin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my Uver.' Compare the < jecur ulcero- 
sum ' of Horace, Od. I, zxv, 15. [Forgetfulness of this £u:t, so femiliar to every 
student, whether English or Classical, led Dr Bucknill (p. no) to prqx)se that the 
words * heart' and 'liver' riiould be transposed. Whereto attention was called by 
' Speriend,' Notes £r* Qu, 5th S. vol. iv, p. 182.] 

406. I will] Neil : Francis, ' the dramatic Censor,' suggests the insertion here of 
die words, ' The more so as thou hast strong traces of Rosalind's favour,' justified 
by V, iv, 32, 33. 

4x3. Fletcher (p. 2x8) : We must bear in mind that Orlando cannot be supposed 
to lose sight for a moment of the resemblance in feature and in voice which the sup- 
posed forest youth bears to his noble and graceful mistress. Nor does he any more 
wish for his own cure than Rosalind herself desires it On the contrary, it is because 
be feels the Hvely and delicate charm which he finds in this new acquaintanoe, opera- 
ting, by strong affinity, to nourish and deepen the impression which his real mistress's 
perfections have made v^n his heart, that he at last accepts the sportive invitation to 



ACT III, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 179 

{will you sfo] 
visit the cottage of the 6ctitiou8 Ganymede. Ou the other hand, Rosalind has secured 
to herself the pleasure of hearing under her disguise the continued addresses of her 
lover; while the fact of her remaining undiscovered is brought within the limits of 
probability by the exceeding unlikelihood to Orlando's mind of such a metamorphosis 
on the part of his princess, and yet more by the perfect self-possession and finished 
address wherewith both she and her cousin are enacting their forest and pastoral parts, 
as if they were as native to the scene, to borrow Rosalind's expression, ' as the coney 
that you see dwell where she is kindled.' But, above all, she is talking herself more 
deeply into love. How beautifully does this appear in her subsequent conversation 
with Celia, when Orlando has failed to keep his wooing appointment : ' Never talk to 
me, I will weep,* &c., and in her account of how she had avoided recognition by her 
father, although she and her cousin had set out upon their wanderings on purpose to 
seek him. Laoy Martin (p. 422) : I need scarcely say how necessaiy it is for the 
actress in this scene, while carrying it through with a vivacity and dash that shall 
divert from Orlando's mind every suspicion of her sex, to preserve a refinement of 
tone and manner suitable to a woman of Rosalind's high station and cultured intel- 
lect ; and by occasional tenderness of accent and sweet persuasiveness of look, to 
indicate how it is that, even at the outset, she establishes a hold vepon Orlando's feel- 
ings, which in their future intercourse in the forest deepens, without his being sensibly 
conscious of it, his love for the Rosalind of his dreams. I never approached this 
scene without a sort of pleasing dread, so strongly did I feel the difficulty and the 
importance of striking the true note in it. Yet when once engaged in it, I was borne 
along I knew not how. The situation in its very strangeness was so delightful to my 
imagination that from the moment when I took the assurance from Orlando's words 
to Jaques that his love was as absolute as woman could desire, I seemed to lose 
myself in a sense of exquisite enjoyment A thrill passed through me ; I felt my 
pulse beat quicker ; my very feet seemed to dance under me. That Rosalind should 
forget her first woman's fean about her *■ doublet and hose ' seemed the most natural 
thing in the world. Speak to Orlando she must at any hazard. But oh, the joy of 
getting him to pour out all his heart, without knowing that it was his own Rosalind to 
whom he talked,— of proving if he were indeed worthy of her love, and testing, at the 
same time, the depth and sincerity of her own devotion ! The device to which she 
resorted seemed to suggest itself irresistibly; and, armed with Shakespeare's words, 
it was an intense pleasure to try to give expression to the archness, the wit, the quick, 
ready intellect, the ebullient fancy, with the tenderness underlying all, which give to 
this scene its transcendent charm. Of all the scenes of this exquisite play, while this 
is the most wonderful, it is for the actress certainly the most difficult Grant Whits 
(Studies^ &c., p. 254) : Now here most Rosalinds go shyly off with Celia and leave 
Orlando to come dangling after them ; but when I read the passage I see Ganymede 
jauntily slip his arm into Orlando's, and lead him off, laughingly lecturing him about 
his name ; then turn his head over his shoulder, and say, * Come, sister !' leaving Celia 
astounded at the boundless * cheek ' of her enamored cousin. [In a foot-note :] I 
have used the words * cheek ' and * chaff' in connection with Rosalind, because they 
convey to us of this day the nature of her goings-on as no other words would ; and 
Shakespeare himself, who always treats slang respectfully, although he contemns and 
cant, would be the first to pardon me. 



i8o AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc. ui. 



ScoBua Tertia. 



Enter Clazvne^ Audrey y & laques : 

C/o. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your 
Goates, Audrey : and how Audrey am I the man yet ? 
Doth my fimple feature content you ? 

Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs : what features ? 5 

Scene IX. Pope+. 3. hciv] now F^F^ Rowe+. 

2. Audrey] Audrie F,. 

3. the man] Abbott, § 92 : T^e used to denote notoriety. 

5. features] Steevens: Feat 91A feature^ perhaps, had anciently the same mean- 
ing. The Qown asks if the features of his face content her ; she takes the word in 
another sense, i. e. feats, deeds, and in her reply seems to mean what feats, i. e, what 
have we done yet ? Or the jest may turn on the Clown's pronimciation. In some 
parts, * features ' might be pronounced faitors, which signify rascals, low wretches. 
Pistol uses the word in 2 Hen. IV: II, iv, 173, and Spenser very frequently. Ma- 
lone : In Daniel's Cleopatra, 1 594 : * I see then artless feature can content. And that 
true beauty needs no ornament' [III, ii, line 729, ed. Grosart]. Again, in The 
Spanish Tragedy : * My feature is not to content her sight ; My words are rude, and 
work her no delight' [II, i, p. 37, ed. Hazlitt]. 'Feature' appears to have for- 
merly signified the whole countenance. So, in / Hen. VI: V, v, 68 : * Her peerless 
feature, joined to her birth, Approves her fit for none but for a king.' Whiter (p. 
51) : < Feature ' appears to have three senses. First, The cast and make of the face. 
Secondly, Beauty in general. Thirdly, The whole turn of the body. Caldecott : 
< Feature ' strictly \sform or figure. Nares : This passage may as well be explained 
by supposing that the word ' feature ' is too learned for the comprehension of the sim- 
ple Audrey. * Feature ' is sometimes used for form or person in general : ' She also 
dofit her heavy haberieon. Which the fair feature of her limbs did hide.'-— Spenser, 
Faerie Queene^ III, ix. As a magical appearance : * Stay, all our charms do nothing 
win Upon the night ; our labour dies 1 Our magick feature will not rise.' — ^Jonson^ 
Mcuque of Queens. On the preceding charm Jonson's own note sajrs : < Here they 
speake as if they were creating some new feature, which the devil persuades them to 
be able to do often, by the pronouncing of words, and pouring out of liquors on the 
earth.' Dyce: 'Feature' is form, person in general. Walker [Crit. ii, 305): 
' Feature,' in its earliest form, the \j6!oxi factura, signifies, in our old writers, the make 
of a person, his tout-ensemble. Jonson, Poetaster, II, i, Gifford, vol. ii, p. 4x6: 'her 
hSx features* ; surely an error; in the very same scene, p. 4x8, 1. 4, we have, ' No 
doubt of that, sweet feature ' ; as Browne, B. P. i, Song iv, Clarke, p. 112 : * from the 
ruins of this mangled creature Arose so fair and so divine a feature, That envy from 
her heart would dote upon her,' &c. ; and, I think, Milton, P. L.xi 'So scented the 
grim feature ' ; abstractum pro concreto, utperscepe in poitt. vett. Anglicis. Uncertain 
Poets, Chalmers, vol. ii, p. 439, col. 2, Praise of M. [Mistresse'\ M.:^\ woxe asto- 



ACT III, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT i8i 

[Your features . . . what features ?] 
nied (?) to read the feator \^fe<Uure\ of her shape, And wondred that a mortall hart 
such heavenly beames could scape.' Browne, B. P, B. i, Song ii, Clarke, p. 67 (of a 
fountain) : * Not changing any other work of nature. But doth endow the drinker with 
a feature More lovely,' &c. Spenser, F, Q. B. iv, C. ii, St. xliv : *And to her service 
bind each living creature. Through secret understanding of their feature ' ; f . e, th^ir 
construction, their make, C. ii, of Mutabilitie, St. iv : *And thither also came all 
other creatures. Whatever life or motion do retaine. According to their sundry kinds 
of features.' Carew, Epitaph on the Lady S., Clarke, Iviii, init. p. 76 : < The harmony 
of colours, features, grace. Resulting airs (the magic of a face) Of musical sweet 
tones, all which combined. To crown one sovereign beauty, lies confined To this dark 
vault' Drunken Bamaby : < Where I sought for George k Green a ; But cou'd find 
not such a creature. Yet on a sign I saw his feature,' &c. [p. 19, ed. 1805]. Dubartas, 
i, vi, ed. 1 641, p. 54, col. 2 : * Can you conceal the feet's rare-skilful feature. The 
goodly bases of this glorious creature?' Wright: There is possibly some joke 
intended here, the key to which is lost. ' Feature ' in Shakespeare's time signified 
shape and form generally, and was not confined to the face only. [In the TranS' 
actions, 1877-9, Part I, p. loo, of The New Shakspere Soc, W. WiLKiNS * made 
Touchstone use '* feature " in its etymological sense of ** making," that is, the Early 
English making or writing of verses, as we use ^ composition,'* &c. now. Ben Jon- 
son,' continues Furnivall, * seems to use the word in the same sense when he says 
of his creature or creation, the play of Volpone, that two months before it was no 
feature : ** think they can flout them, With saying he was a year about them. To 
this there needs no lie, but this his creature. Which was two months since no feature." 
— Prologue to Volpone, 1607. Mr. W. A. Harrison finds the same sense in Bp. 
Latimer and Pliny : << Some of thenv ingendred one, some other such features, and 
euery one in that he was deliuered of was excellent, politike, wise." — Frvitfull Ser- 
mons, &c. by Master Hvgh Latimer, &c. 1596, Sig. B4, p. 12. Feture means here 
" a thing made," " a production." Pliny (Praef. Lib. I) uses fetura figuratively of a 
literary production, and calls his work on Natural History proxima fetura : " Libros 
Naturalis Historise .... natos apud me proxima fetura." ' Nares's citations are also 
repeated in a foot-note.] Brinsley Nicholson (Scofs Discovery of Witchcraft, 
Reprint, 1886, p. 548) : *■ Feature.' An example of its being used for the make of a 
man, and not merely of the features of his coimtenance, to which it is now appropri- 
ated ; but till I can find — and as yet I have found none, though I have looked out for 
it — an example of feature used for things inanimate, I cannot accept the interpretation 
of song or sonnet in [the present passage.] Did it refer to verse we should expect 

features All Touchstone's reference to verse-making in this passage may readily 

have arisen from his reference to his new situation as like that of the honest poet Ovid 
among the Goths. Had he been poetical and given her verses, he could not have 
explained to Audrey that he, being a poet, only feigned to love her. [We know, from 
Steevens's note, that the jest was lost over a hundred years ago, and it seems vain to 
hope to find it now. We may have our own little explanations and theories, but it is 
doubtful that any can be now proposed which will be generally accepted. The latest 
that has been offered, that of Wilkins and of The New Shakspere Soc., is to me far 
from satisfactory, and indeed is scarcely a clue to the joke at all, which does not lie 
in what Touchstone sajrs, but in Audrey's interpretation. It makes but little differ- 
ence to us what Touchstone's ' feature ' is ; it may be anything in the world, from a 
sonnet to the cut of his beard, it may be < feature ' in the sense of composition^ or it 



iSa AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. Hi, 

Clo. I am heere with thee, and thy Goats, as the moft 6 

capricious Poet honeft Ouid was among the Gothes. 

7. Gothes] Goths F^. 

may be, which I think extremely probable, that the sentence is merely a repetition by 
Touchstone, in different words, of his previous question, < am I the man yet ?' But 
what is important, and most be known before our lungs can crow like chanticleer, is 
the meaning that Audrey attaches to it which necessitated a < Lord warrant us ' when 
she alluded to it. Here lay the jest, and I think it still lies there, not in Touchstone's 
meaning, but hidden in his pronunciation of < feature,' as Steevens suggested. We 
need have little doubt that the ai in ' feature ' was pronounced to rhyme with the a in 
our pronunciation of nature. ElUs (Early Eng. Pronun. p. 992) gives * feature * in 
palseotype as ' fee-tyyr,' wherein ' ee ' has the sound of a in Mary, and < yy ' the sound 
of the German softened il. By the analogy of < Lectors,' however, which we had in 
the last scene, and of many simitar words, I think we have a right to suppose that 
Touchstone varied this pronunciation and may have said < fee-tor.' If so, Audrey 
may readily have accepted it as meaning ^(/<^, which is exactly what Steevens sug- 
gested. Faitor means a cheat, a vagabond, a villain. Pistol in a Hen, IV: II, iv, 
173, says ' Down, down, dogs ! down, faitora !' and in Spenser we have < The false 
faitor Scudamore.' If this be the jest, it is not, it must be confessed, side-splitting, 
but it is quite enough to disconcert Touchstone, who was fishing for a compliment, 
whether we take ' feature ' to mean his manly proportions (as I think he means it) or 
his verses, as Wilkins supposes. In support of the latter interpretation it is a little 
unfortunate that no other exactly parallel instance of the use of ' feature ' in the sense 
of factura has been dted. In the quotation from Jonson's Volpone the allusion is 
more physiological than psychological, and, it seems to me, clearly refers to the shape 
or outline of his play. If, however, Jonson, with his unquestionable scholarship, here 
uses * feature ' in its classical sense, it should be classed, I think, with the fetura of 
Pliny (cited above by Harrison), which comes from quite a different root, and has 
quite a difiierent meaning, frcfOL factura. There may well have been some peculiarity, 
not confined to Touchstone, in the pronunciation of * feature.' In Willobie's Avisa, 
1594, on pp. 19, 46, 99 (ed. GiDSart), it is spelled fevfture, and in no other way, as 
fer as I noticed. This may have been a peculiarity of a Northern dialect, of which 
there are other indications in the poem, or it may have arisen from some peculiarity 
in the handwriting of ' Hadrian Dorrell,' but at any rate I think it helps to justify us 
in looking to Touchstone's pronunciatioQ as the source wherein Audrey's jest lies 
perdu.— Ed.] 

5. Farmer : I doubt not this should be < Your feature I Lord warrant us ! what^s 
feature P 

7. capricious] Caldecott: Caper, capri, caperitious, capricious, fantastical, 
capering, goatish ; and by a similar process are we to smooth < Goths ' into ' goats.' 
Dyce quotes Lettsom : No doubt there is an allusion to caper here : but there seems 
to be also one to capere; at least the word capricums may be used in the sense of 
< taking.' Compare [Brewer's ? — Dyce] Lingua, II, ii : ' Carry the conceit I told you 
this morning to the party you wot of. In my imagination 'tis capricious; 'twill take, 
I warrant thee.' — [p. 368, ed. Hazlitt]. 

7. Gothes] Caldecott : In our early printing Goths and Gothic were spelt Gotes 
and Gottishe, Wylliam Thomases Historye of Italye, 1561, foi. 86: 'agamst the 
gota\' and fol. 201 : 'Attila, kyng of the GotL* So in Chi^Mnan's Homer, passim. 



ACT in, sc. iii.] AS YOU UKE IT 183 

laq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worfe then loue in 8 

a thatch'd houfe. 

8, 29, 42. Aside. Johns, et seq. 

White (Introd. to Much Ado, p. 226, ed. i) : This joke of Touchstone's is quite deci- 
sis upon the point that the combinatioa oth was sometimes, at least, pronounced ote. 
If the pronunciation of ' Goths ' was not gotes^ he might as well have said < among the 
Vandals.' [See also vol. xii, p. 431 of Grant White's first edition, where, in one of 
the earliest attempts to fix the pronunciation of Elizabethan Eqglish, White argues 
rather more strongly perhaps than he would have maintained in his maturer years that 
*d, thf and / were indiscriminately used to express a hardened and perhaps not uniform 
modification of the Anglosaxon *$.' Ellis (Early Eng. Pronunctalion, p. 971) reviews 
at length White's conclusions and dissents from them : * there does not appear,' he 
says, p. 972, * to be any reason for concluding that the genuine English M ever had the 
sound of /, although some final /'s have fallen into M.' This seems to be stated a little 
too broadly, especially with Touchstone's joke before us, which Ellis elsewhere recog- 
nises, but refers to the category of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew words in which at that 
time there was probably great uncertainty of pronunciation. Again, there is a little 
strain in thus classing with Latin, Greek, or Hebrew a word as thoroughly Anglo- 
Saxon as 'goat' 

We all know that poor Ovid for an unknown misdeed was banished to the bleak 
shores of the Euxine among the Getae, who are the Goths.— Ed.] 

8. inhabited] Steevens : That is, ill-lodged. An unusual sense of the word. A 
mmilar phrase occurs in Re3molds' Gad's Revenge against Murder, book v, hist 21 : 
* Pieria's heart is not so ill-lodged, .... but that she is very sensible of her disgrace.' 
Again, in The Golden Legend, ed. Wynkyn de Worde, fc^. 196 : ' I am ryghtwysnes 
that am enhabyted here, and this hous is myne.' [' But,' adds Wright, * there is do 
evidence that in ^lakespeare's time ''inhabit" was equivalent to "lodge" in the 
active sense. Hi-lodged must be the meaning, although it is not easy to say why.'] 
Abbott thus explains this curious word, § 294 : Hence \u e, from the license in the 
formation of verbs] arose a ciuious use of passive verbs, mostly found in the participle. 
Thus * famous' d for fights ' (Sonn. 25) means ' made famous ' ; but in ' Who .... 
would not be so lever' d^ — Z. C. ' lover'd ' means ' gifled with a lover.' And this is 
the general rule : A participle formed from an adjective means ' made (the adjective),' 
and derived from a noun means ' endowed with (the noun).' [Hereupon a page and 
a half of examples follow, which see ; among them, the present phrase is interpreted 
' nuide to inhabit' See also ' guiled shore,' Mer, of Ven. Ill, ii, 103.] 

9. thatch'd house] Upton: That of Bauds and Philemon; 'Stipulis et caana 
tecta palustri.' — Ovid, Met. viii, 63a [' The roole therof was thatched all with stiaw 
and fennish reede.' — Golding's trans. 1567, p. xo6]. Knight: The same allusion is 
in Much Ado, II, i, 99 : *Don Pedro, My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house 
is Jove. Hero, Why, then, your visor should be thatched.' 

9. Capell: Does not this reflection of Jaques upon Touchstone's speech vcogfij a 
soit of conscioasness in the Poet, that he had nuide his clown a little too learned ? 
for, besides that he has made him acquainted with Ovid's situation in Pontus, and his 
complaints upon that subject in his Poems de Tristidus, he has put into his mouth a 
conundrum that certainly proves him a latinist ; ' Capricious ' .... as if it had spnmg 
directly from ea^, without the medium either of the French caprice or the Italian 



i84 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. iii. 

Clo. When a mans verfes cannot be vnderftood, nor lO 

a mans good wit feconded with the forward childe^ vn- 
derftanding: it ftrikes a man more dead then a great rec- 
koning in a little roome : truly, I would the Gods hadde 
made thee poeticall. 

Aud, I do not know what Poetical is : is it honefl in 15 

deed and word: is it a true thing? 

Clo, No trulie : for the trueft poetrie is the mod fai- 
ning, and Louers are giuen to Poetrie : and what they 
fweare in Poetrie, may be faid as Louers, they do feigne. 

Aud. Do you wifh then that the Gods had made me 20 

Poeticall ? 

Clow. I do truly : for thou fwear^ft to me thou art ho- 
ned : Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue fome hope 
thou didd feigne. 

Atid, Would you not haue me honed ? 25 

Clo. No truly, vnleffe thou wert hard fauour^d : for 

12. 13. reckoning] reeking Han. 19. may] it may Mason, Coll. (MS) 

11, 111. 

capriccio : The Poet has indeed qualify'd his learning a little, by giving him < Goths ' 
for Getes, 

13. roome] Warburton : Nothing was ever wrote in higher humour than this 
simile. It implies that the entertainment was mean, and the bill extravagant 
MoBERLY : To have one's poetry not understood is worse than the bill of a first-class 
hotel in a pot-house. Rev. John Hunter : An extensive reckoning to be written out 
in very small space. [Can this last interpretation possibly be right ? To me Moberly's 
paraphrase is admirable, and the only one. — Ed.] 

14. poeticall] Giles (p. 193) : Touchstone is the Hamlet of motley. He is bit- 
ter, but there is often to me something like sadness in his jests. He mocks, but in his 
mockery we seem to hear echoes from a solitary heart. He is reflective ; and melan- 
choly, wisdom, and matter aforethought are in his quaintness. He is a thinker out of 
place, a philosopher in mistaken vesture, a gentleman without benefice, a genius by 
nature, an outcast by destiny. 

15. honest] That is, chaste. So in I,.ii, 38, and ' dishonest,' V, iii, 5. 

17, 18. the truest . . . faining] Capel Lofft (p. 285) : This was Waller's courtly 
apology to Charles II for having praised Cromwell. 

19. feigne] Johnson : This sentence seems perplexed and inconsequent ; perhaps 
it were better read thus : What they swear as lovers, they may be said to feign as 
poets. Mason : I would read : it may be said as lovers they do feign. Wright : 
The construction is confused. Shakespeare may have intended to continue the sen- 
tence 'may be said to be feigned.' [Mason's emendation is so trifling, and yet 
effective withal, that, if change be necessary, it may well be adopted. But I think 
change is unnecessary; confused as the construction is, the sense is quite intelligible. 
—Ed.] 



ACT III. sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 185 

honeftie coupled to beautie, is to haue Honie a (awce to 27 

Sugar. 

laq. A materiall foole. 

Aud. Well, I am not £iire, and therefore I pray the 30 

Gods make me honeft. 

C/o, Truly, and to caft away honeftie vppon a foule 
flut,were to put good meate into an vncleane difh. 

Aud. I am not a (lut, though I thanke the Goddes I 
am foule. 35 

26. hard fauour'd] Cowden-Clarke : These words show that Audrey was not 
uncomely ; although she in her modesty, and Touchstone in his pleasantry, choose to 
make her out to be plain. It is evident that the court-jester had the wit to perceive 
something genuinely and intrinsically attractive about the girl, beneath her simple 
looks and manner. Besides, she was an oddity, and that had charms for him. More- 
over, she evidently idolises him ; which rivets him to her. 

29. materiall] Johnson : A fool with matter in him ; a fool stocked with notions. 
[Dyce adopts this.] Steevens: So in Chapman's version of the 24th Iliad: 'his 
speech even charm'd his eares, So ordered, so materiall.' Halliwell : The Duke 
has said of Jaques that he likes to meet with him when he is ' full of matter.'— II, i, 
73. White (ed. i) : Does not the clown's apparent unwillingness to have his wife 
both honest and beautiful make it clear that the cynical Jaques means to say that he 
is materially— thoroughly, essentially a fool? [In his second edition White has 
grown positive ; he no longer asks a question, but asserts that < a material fool is equiv- 
alent to an absolute fool ; a fool in what is material or of essential importance.'] 

32. foule] The Cambridge Edition notes this 2a fatde in the Second Folio. 
There is, therefore, a variation in the copies here ; mine reads as in the First Folio. 
—Ed. 

35. foule] Hanmer : By * foul * is meant coy qx frowning. Tyrwhitt: I rather 
believe ' foul ' to be put for the rustic pronunciation oi fult, Audrey, supposing the 
clown to have spoken of her as ' a foul slut,' says, naturally enough, * I am not a slut, 
though, I thank the gods, I am foul^ i. e. full,^ RiTSON : Audrey says she is not 
fair^ i. e. handsome, and therefore prajrs the gods to make her honest. The clown 
tells her that to ' cast honesty away upon a foul slut ' (f . e, an Ul-favoured^ dirty crea- 
ture) is to put meat in an unclean dish. She replies, she is no ' slut ' (no dirty drab)^ 
though in her great simplicity she thanks the gods for her foulness (homeliness), L e, 
for being as she is. Mason : By *■ foul ' Audrey means not fair^ or what we call 
honuly. Audrey is neither coy nor ill-humoured ; but she thanks God for her home- 
liness, as it rendered her less exposed to temptation. So Rosalind says to Fhoebe, 
III, ▼, 66 : < Foul is most foul, being foul, to be a scoffer.' Malone : I believe 
Mason's interpretation to be the true one. So in Abrahan^s Scicrifice^ 1577 : < The 
fayre, the fowle, the crooked, and the right' So also in Gascoigne's Steele Glasse : 
* those that loue to see themselues How foule or fayre, soeuer they may be ' [p. 55, 
ed. Arber]. Talbot : That ' foul ' retained the meaning in which it is used here as 
low down as Pope, we find by the following lines in 7^ Wife of Bath : *■ If fair, 
though chaste, she cannot long abide. By pressing youth attack'd on every side ; If 
foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures.' Whiter (p. 55) : What can be more mani- 



iS6 AS YOU LIKE IT [act ni, sc. iH. 

Clo. Well,praifed be the Gods^ for thy foulneffe;flut- 36 

tiflineffe may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, 
I wil marrie thee : and to that end, I haue bin with Sir 
Oliuer Mar-text^ the Vicar of the next village, who hath 
promisM to meete me in this place of the Forreft, and to 40 

couple vs. 

laq. I would &ine fee this meeting. 

Aud.VJAy the Gods giue vs ioy. 

Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, 
dagger in this attempt : for heere wee haue no Temple 45 

but the wood, no aflembly but home-beads. But what 

44. may] might Coll. (MS). 44. were] weare F,. 

fest than that the humour of the passage (such as it is) consists in the equivocal sense 
of * foul/ which in our poet's time not only signified what it does at present, but 
means likewise plain or homely ? Caldbcott : < Foul ' is used in opposition Unfair : 
* If the maiden be fayre she is sone had, and litUe money geven with her : if she be 
foule, they avaunce hir with a better portion.'— Thomas's Historie of Italye, 1 561, p. 
83. [Schmidt gives between twenty and thirty instances of the use of * foul ' as 
opposed to * fair,' and possibly his list is not complete. In the present passage the 
jest's prosperity lies not alone in the ear of the hearer, but in the mouth of the 
speaker, and in its double meaning. There is no humour nor thought of laughter 
when Rosalind says of Silvins and Phoebe, ' He's fallen in love with her foulness.' 
—Ed.] 

36. foulnesse] Cowdbn-Clarkb : Judging by these jumbled axioms upon fiur- 
ness, foulness, and slutdshness, Shake^)eare seems to have been looking into the 
twelfth chapter of Florio's Second Frutes, where are strung together as many of 
these trite sayings upon women's various qualities as Sancho Panza's irrelevant prov- 
erbs. We believe that this work of Florio's was often in Shakespeare's hand ; for it 
is curious to observe how many of the words and i^xrases therein he has adopted. 
For instance, one of the scores of whimsical axioms in the above-mentioned twelfth 
chapter is, < If fayre, she is sluttish ; if foule, she is prowd.' 

38. with] Allen (MS) : Equivalent to j'ai 6t^ ehe»^ I went to the house ot 

38. Sir] See notes on Dramatis Persona, 

43. That more may be meant by this exclamation of Audrey than meets our mod- 
em ears may be inferred, I think, from the foUowing passage in Lilly's Mother Bom- 
He, where there is a dispute over the marriage of two young people : *Lucio, Faith 
there was a bargaine during life, and the docke cried, God give them joy. Prisius. 
Villaine! they be married! Halfepenie, Nay, I thinke not so. Sperantus. Yes, 
yes ! God give you joy is a bmder I' — p. 138, ed. Fairiiolt To Audrey, therefore, 
this exclamation may have meant the firm conclusion of the match, if not of the mar- 
riage itself. — Ed. 

46. home-beattt] This is one of the very many examples which Walker cites 
(Crit. ii, 63) of the confusion, in the Folio, of final d and final /, a confusion which 
arose ' in some instances, peihaps, from the juxtaposition <^ d and / in the composi- 
tor's case ; but far oftener — as is evident firom the frequency of the erratum — ^from 



ACT HI. sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 187 

though? Courage. As homes are odious^ they are necef- 47 

larie.It is (aid, many a man knowes no end of his goods; 

right : Many a man has good Hornes^and knows no end 

of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none 50 

of his owne getting ; homes, euen fo poore men alone : 

No, no, the nobleft Deere hath them as huge as the Raf- 52 

51. homesy,,. alone :'\ Horns 9 even so Rile. Horns / never for poormen alone f 

•"Poor men alone — Rowe, Pope. Horns f Sing. Horns f ever to poor men alone f 

even so— poor men alone f — Theob. Han. Dyce. Horns ! Are horns given to poor 

.Warb. Johns. Steer. Mai. Knt, Sta. Cam. men alone f Coll. iii. Horns are not for 

KUy, Wh. ii (sub6.). Are hams given to poor men alone, Spedding [pp. Cam. 

poor men alone f Coll. (MS) ii, Wh. i, Ed.). 

something in the old method of writing the final / or </, and which those who are 
▼ersed in Elizabethan MSS may perhaps be able to explain.' In a foot-note Lettsom 
adds : *■ Walker's sagacity, in default of positive knowledge, has led him to the truth. 
The e^ with the last upstroke prolonged and terminated with a loop, might be easily 
mistaken for d. It is frequenUy found so written.' The many instances in which the 
sense imperatively demands this correction, and in which the change firom eXa d and 
from ^ to « is nuide in all modernized editions, ought to embolden us to make the 
change here fix>m nonsense to sense, and instead of 'home-beasts,' write horned 
beasts. — Ed. 

46, 47. what though] Johnson : What then ? [Seeing that ' so,' < originally 
meaning in that way^ is frequently inserted,' according to Abbott, J 65, < in replies 
where we should omit it ' [e, g, • Trib. Repair to the Capitol. People, We will so*^^ 
Cor, II, iii, 262), so after < I think,' * if,' &c. ' so ' is sometimes omitted ; see Abbott, 
§ 64. Thus here the full meaning of the phrase is < But what though it may be J0.'] 

51. homes, . . . alone] Collier (Notes &* Emend, p. 133) : It appears that are 
had accidentally dropped out, and that for < euen so ' we ought to read given to, and 
then Touchstone's question will be perfectly intelligible : 'Are horns giiMn to poor 
men alone ?' ' No, no (replies Touchstone to his own interrogatory) : the noblest 
deer,' &c. This emendation may have been obtained fkom some good authority. 
Singer : I prefer, as a less violent innovation [than Theobald's text], to read, instead 
of 'euen so,' never for ; which makes the passage intelligible and less incoherent. 
White (ed. i) : Collier's (MS) furnishes the emendation which is more consistent 
with the context than either [Theobald's or Singer's]. Dyce quotes Singer's text, 
and adds *■ which I hardly understand.' Halliwell : The effect of this ruminating 
is impaired by the violent alteration proposed by Collier's (MS). Staunton : We 
adopt the ordinary punctuation of this hopeless passage, though with reluctance. 
White (ed. ii) : Unsatisfactory as it is, this reading [Theobald's] is peihaps the best 
diat can be made of the original. 

52. Rascall] Caldecott : 'As one should hi reproch say to a poore man, thoii 
raskall knaue, where rasiall is properly the huntera terme giuen to young deere, leane 
and out of season, and not to people.' — Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, p. 
150. Again, ' The bucks and lusty stags amongst the rascals strew'd As sometimes 
gallant spirits amongst the multitude.' — Drayton's Poly-olbion [Thirteenth Song, p. 
304, ed. 1748]. Way (foot-note to Rasealyer^Prompi. Parv,) : Fabyan, under the 
year 1456, speaks of ' a multitude of rascall and poore people of the cytye.' Certain 



i88 AS YOU LIKE IT [act tii. sc. iiL 

call : Is the fingle man therefore bleffed ? No, as a wall'd 53 

Towne is more worthier then a village, fo is the fore- 
head of a married man, more honourable then the bare 55 
brow of a Batcheller : and by how much defence is bet- 
ter then no skill, by fo much is a home more precious 
then to want 

Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text. 
Heere comes Sir Oliuer : Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are 60 

wel met Will you difpatch vs heere vnder this tree, or 
(hal we go with you to your Chappell ? 

OL Is there none heere to giue the woman ? 

Clo. I wil not take her on guift of any man. 

01. Truly fhe muft be giuen, or the marriage is not 65 

lawfull. 

laq. Proceed, proceede : He giue her. 

Clo. Good euen good My what ye cal't : how do you 
Sir, you are verie well met : goddild you for your laft 
companie, I am verie glad to fee you, euen a toy in hand 70 

heere Sir : Nay, pray be couer'd. 

lag. Wil you be married. Motley ? 72 

54. more] Om. Pope. 69. goddild^godUdYl, God'ildThtx^^ 

68. Mr'\ M, Yl, Rowe. God ild Dyct. 
cart"] ftfi7Roweii + . 

ftnimalB, not accounted as beasts of chase, were likewise so termed. In the St Albans 
Book it is stated that ' there be fine beasts which we cal beasts of the chace, the buke, 
the doe, the foxe, the marteme, and the roe ; all other of what kinde soeuer terme 
them Rascal!.* It appears, however, from the Mayster of Game, that the hart, until 
he was six years old, was accounted * rascayle or foly.' — Vesp, B. xii, f. 25. In the 
Survey of the Estates of Glastonbury Abbey, taken at the Dissolution, the deer in the 
various parks are distinguished as ' deere of anntler ' and < deere of Rascall.' 

53, 54. wall'd . . . village] Allen (MS) : A town has the defence of a wall ; a 
village has none. Shakespeare has got fortification into his head. I wonder, there- 
fore, whether he is not thinking of a *■ homwork ' as one work in a system of defences. 
How early was the term used ? 

56. defence] Steevens: < Defence,' as here opposed to *no skill,' signifies the 
art of fencing. Thus, ' and gave you such a masterly report, for arts and exercise in 
your defence.* — Hcrni. IV, vii, 98. Caldecott: Any means of defence is better 
than a lack of science ; in proportion as something is to nothing. [Steevens's is the 
better interpretation, I think. — Ed.] 

69. goddild you] Steevens : That is, God yield you, God reward yon. So in 
Ant. 6r* Chop, IV, ii, 33 : 'And the gods yield you for 't* [According to Skeat, the 
original meaning of *■ yield ' is \xipay.'\ 



ACT III, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 189 

Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow fir, the horfe his curb, 73 

and the Falcon her bels, fo man hath his defires, and as 
Pigeons bill, fo wedlocke would be nibling. 75 

laq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding)be 
married vnder a bufli like a begger f Get you to church, 
and haue a good Prieft that can tel you what marriage is, 
this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne 
Wainfcot, then one of you wil proue a fhrunke pannell, 80 

and like greene timber, warpe,warpe. 

Clo, I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee 
married of him then of another, for he is not like to mar- 
rie me wel : and not being wel married, it wil be a good 
excufe for me heereafter, to leaue my wife* 8$ 

73. bow] bough Cap. 74. defires] defire F^F^, Rowe+. 

74. her bels] his bells Y^^, Rowe+. 8^-85. Aaidc. Cap. 

73. bow] Capell : The wooden collar or yoke, that lyes across the neck of draft 
oxen, and to which their traces are fastened, is call'd their bow; and this being the 
spelling of the word in former editions, it has probably been the sense it was taken 
in ; but a little attention to the true meaning of the other two similies, and to the 
matter they are meant to illustrate, will show that we must seek for another interpre- 
tation of bow : The faulcon is thought to take delight in her ' bells,' and to bear her 
captivity the better for them ; * curbs * and their jingling appendages, add a spirit to 
horses ; and if we interpret * bow ' to signify bough of a tree, the ox becomes a proper 
similitude too, who, thus adom*d, moves with greater legerity : and the same effect 
that these things have npon the several animals, * desires,' and their gratifications, 
have upon men ; making them bear their burthens the better, and jog on to the end 
of life's road. [Can perverted ingenuity further go ? Steevens said that the * bow ' 
was the yoke, and has been followed, I think, by every English editor except Halli- 
well, who rightly defines it. The fact is, that the bow, and the yoke, in which the 
bow is inserted, being two different things, cannot bear the same name; as well might 
we say a horse's ^ is his bridle. — Ed.] 

74. Falcon her] The gender here is properly feminine ; the male hawk was called 
a tiercel, perhaps from its lesser size. See the notes on * tassel-gentle ' in Jiom. &• 
Jul. II, ii, 159. Wright: Shakespeare once makes 'falcon' masculine in /!. o/L, 
507, but the gender of the pronoun in that passage may be explained by the fact that 
it refers to Tarquin, who is compared to a falcon. 

82. not in the minde, but] Caldecott : That is, I am of no other opinion ot 
inclination than, my mind is, that it were better to be married by him. [The fore- 
going paraphrase is all the help that is offered to us on this somewhat puzzling con- 
struction, which is, I think, intelligible only on the principle of two negations making 
an afHrmative. Touchstone was not in the mind that it were not better, and therefore 
he was in the mind that it was. For the phrase ' I were better,' see Abbott, §§ 352 
and 230, where we find that in this and similar expressions, like * You were best,' 
' Thou wert better,' &c., /, Th4m, and You originally datives, were changed to nomi- 
natives. — Ed.] 



190 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. iii. 

lag. Goe thou with mee, 86 

And let me counfel thee. 

01. Come fweete Audrey^ 
We muft be married, or we muft Hue in baudrey : 
Farewel good M^ Oliuer : Not O fweet Oliuer^ O braue ' 90 

86, 87. One line, Pope et seq. 90, 91. Not, ..But"] Included in the 

^, 01.] F,. verse, Cap. Excluded from the verse, 

88, 89. Prose, Pope-f. Mai. et seq. (subs.). 

90. Mr"] M, Ff. .Sir Theob. ii, Warb. 90-^2. Not.,.tkee\ Six lines of veise, 

Johns. Cap. et seq. 

90, &c. Not O sweet Oliuer, &c.] Capell : These words have no appearance 
of a ballad as [Warburton] has fancy' d ; but rather of a line in some play, that per- 
haps might run thus, ' O my sweet Oliver, leave me not behind thee ' ; which this wag 
of a clown puts into another sort of metre, to make sport with sir Oliver, telling him : 

* I'll not say to you, as the play has it, " O sweet Oliver, | O brave Oliver, | Leave me 
not behind thee " ; but I say to you, << wind away," ' &c., continuing his speech in the 
same metre. In this light the passage is truly humorous ; but may be much height- 
en'd by a certain droleness in speaking the words, and by dancing about sir Oliver 
with a harlequin gesture and action. [The world cannot afford to lose the flash of 
histrionic genius with which Capell illumines this passage. — Ed.] Johnson : Of this 
speech, as it now appears, I can make nothing, and think nothing can be made. In 
the same breath he calls his mistress to be married, and sends away the man that 
should marry them. Warburton has very happily observed that ' O sweet Oliver ' is a 
quotation from an old song ; I believe there are two quotations put in opposition to 
each other. For ' wind ' I read wend, the old word iot ge. Perhaps the whole pas* 
sage may be regulated thus : *Jaqu€S. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
[They whisper."] Clown. Farewell, good sir Oliver, not O sweet Oliver^ O brave 
Oliver^ lea'ue me not behind theef^hoi — fVend Aynjf — Begone, I say, — I will not to 
wedding with thee to-day.' Of this conjecture die reader may take as much as shall 
appear necessary to the sense or conducive to the humour. Tyrwhitt : The epithet 

* sweet ' seems to have been peculiarly appropriated to * Oliver,' for which, perhaps, he 
was originally obliged to the old song before us. See Jonson's Underwoods : *A11 the 
mad Rolands and sweet Olivers.' — [LXII, p. 417, ed. Gifford.] Steevens : < O brave 
Oliver, leave me not behind you ' is a quotation at the beginning of one of Breton's 
Lettera in his Poste with a Packet of Mad Letters^ x6oo [vol. ii, p. 34, ed. Gro- 
sart]. In the Stationers' Registera, Aug. 6, 1584, was entered by Ridiard Jones, 
the ballad of <0 swete Olyuer, Leave me not behind the.' Again [on the 20th 
of August], <The answeare of O sweete Ol3ruer.' Again [on Aug. 1st] in 1586, 
*0 swete Olyver, altered to ye scriptures.* — [vol. ii, pp. 434, 435, 451, ed. Arber]. 
Farmer : I often find a part of this song applied to Cromwell. In a paper called A 
Man in the Moon, Discovering' a World of Knavery under the Snn, * ihe/uncto wiH 
go near to give us the baggage^ if O brave Oliver come not suddenly to relieve them.' 
The same allusion is met with in Cleveland. < Wind away ' and wind off are still 
ViS^^ provincially ; and, I believe, nothing but the /r^rvtiffiaii/ pronunciation is wanting 
to join the parts together. I read : * Leave me not behi* thee — But — ^wind away-— 
Begone, I say, — I will not to wedding tw' thee.^ Steevens: 'Wind* is used for 
wend in Qssar and Pompey, 1607 : * Winde we then, Antony, with this royal queen.' 




ACT III, 8C. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 191 

OUuer leaue me not behind thee : But winde away, bee 91 

gone I fay, I wil not to wedding with thee. 

01. 'Tis no matter ; Ne're a feuitaftical knaue of them 
all fhal flout me out of my callmg. Exeunt 94 



Scoena Quarta. 

Enter Ro/alind& Celia. 

Rof. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe. 

CeL Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to confider^ 
that teares do not become a man. 

Rof. But haue I not caufe to weepe f 5 

Cel. As good caufe as one would defire, 
Therefore weepe. 

Rof. His very haire 
Is of the diflfembling colour. 9 

91. behmdtkie] keki* tket Steer. ^ 92. Exeunt Jaqnet, Qown, and An- 
hmd tkee, pr'ythee ! Ktlj. drey. Cap. 

wi$ule\ wend ^ad%. Coll. (MS) si, 94. Exennt] Exit Cap. 

iii, Qke, Huda. Scene X. Fq)e+. 

92. wUh thee\ wi* thee Steev. bmd A Cottage in the Forest. Theob. 
thee Coll. (MS) ii, iii. 6-16. Prose, Pope et seq. 

9. thi\ a Rowe ii, Pope, Han. 

Collier {Neies, &c., p. 133) : All printed editions have missed the rhyme in the last 
line of the fragment of the ballad, * O sweet OliTer.' Perhaps it was only the extem- 
poral invention of Touchstone, but it is thus given by the MS corrector of the Folio, 
1632: *Bttt wend away; begone I say, I will not to wedding kind thee.' Dyce: 
But there is no reason to suppose that a rhyme in the last line was intended by Shake- 
speare ; for it would seem that Touchstone is citing two distinct portions of the ballad. 
Nor can we doubt that * wind away ' was the reading of the old ditty ; compare TTU 
History of Pyramus and ThisHe : * That doone, oztMiy hee ttnndeSf as fier of hell or 
Vulcan's thunder/ &c. — 7%g Gorgiom Gallery of Gallant Inventions^ 157^, p. 171, 
reprint. * Wind ' is an early form of wend, [In both his first and second editions 
Collier refers to his Introduction to Afid, N, />., where a stanza of Robin Goodfelhw 
is given, in which < wind ' is used for wend. This particular copy of the ballad, how- 
ever, was in a MS of the time, and the stanza does not appear in Percy's Reliques^ 
1765, although the word *wend' does appear there in line no. — ^Ed.] 

1-16. These lines, with their division into apparent verse, are an indication, I 
think, of the piecemeal printing of the Folio. They are the last lines on the page, 
at the foot of the column. The compositor to whom this portion was intrusted was 
apparently anxious to complete his stint with a full page, and, indeed, was perhaps 
forced to do so, that there might be no gap between his share and his nei^bor*s, and 
so spread out the text by thus dividing the lines.— Ed. 



192 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc. iv. 

CeL Something browner then ludaffes : 10 

Marrie his kiffes are ludaffes owne children. 

Rof. Ffaith his haire is of a good colour. 

CeL An excellent colour : 
Your Cheffenut was euer the onely colour : 

iE^And his kiffing is as ful of fanftitie, 15 

As the touch of holy bread. 

10, II. /iw/i^«] F,. Judas' s¥^^. 16. ^^«/]^^a«/Theob.Warb. Johns. 

16. the] F,. Cap. 

9. dissembling colour] Hunter (i, 349) : That certain colours of the hair were 
supposed to indicate particular dispositions was an opinion of the time, as may be 
seen at large in The Shepherd's Calendar, not Spenser's beautiful poem so entitled, 
but the medley of moral and natural philosophy, of verse and prose, which, under 
that title, was a favourite book of the common people in the reigns of the Tudors. < A 
man that hath black hair,' we are told, ' and a red beard, signifies to be letcherous, 
disloyal, a vaunter, and one ought not to trust him.' Halliwell : ' Hair of the 
colour of gold denotes a treacherous person, having a good understanding, but mis- 
chievous ; red hair, enclining to black, signifies a deceitful and malicious person.'— 
Saunders, Physiognomie and Chiromancie, 1 67 1, p. 1 89. 

10. ludasses] Steevens : Judas was constantly represented in ancient painting 
or tapestry with red hair and beard. Tollet : The new edition of Leland's Collec- 
tanea, vol. v, p. 295, asserts that < painters constantly represented Judas, the traytor, 
with a red head.' Dr Rot's Oxfordshirey p. 153, says the same: 'This conceit is 
thought to have arisen in England, from our ancient grudge to the red-haired Danes.' 
Nares : The current opinion that Judas had red hair arose from no better reason than 
that the colour was thought ugly. Thiers in his Histoire des PemtqueSy p. 22, gives 
this as one of the reasons for wearing wigs : ' Les rousseaux pottdrent des pemiques, 
pour cacher la couleur de leurs cheveux, qui sont en horreur k tout le monde, parce 
que Judas, & ce qu'on pretend, etoit rousseau.' Dryden, in Amboyna, has, ' there's 
treachery in that Judas-colour'd beard,' and in a fit of anger he described Jacob Ton- 
son, ' with two left legs, and Judas-coloured hair.' As Tonson is in the same attack 
described as * freckled fair,' there can be no doubt that Judas's hair was always sup- 
posed to be red. A red beard was considered as an infallible token of a vile dispo- 
sition. 

15. Walker (Crii. iii, 94) would let Celia interrupt this speech, thus: *Ros, And 
his kissing — CeL Is as fidl of sanctity as,' &c., and it is not to be denied that it is 
quite in the spirit of the rest of the dialogue, but — ^it is improving Shakespeare, or 
rather, it is improving the plain, unsophisticated text, which should not be. — ^Ed. 

16. holy bread] Warburton : We should read beard, that is, the kiss of an holy 
saint or hermit, called the kiss of charity. This makes the comparison just and 
decent ; the other impious and absurd. Collier : * Holy bread,' as the Rev. Mr 
Barry observes to me, * is sacramental bread ' ; and he adds that * pax-bread ' is ren- 
dered by Coles /tf»w osculandus. Barron Field {Sh. Soc. Papers, vol. iii, p. 133) : 
It is strange that these reverend gentlemen should have been so ill-read in Church 
History as not to know what * holy bread ' was. Sacramental bread, in those times, 
would have been called a great deal more than holy bread, and would never have 



ACT III, 8C. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 193 

CeL Hee hath bought a paire of caft h'ps of Diana : a 17 

Nun of winters fifterhood kiffes not more religiouflie, 
the very yce of chaftity is in them. 19 

17. cafi[\ ckaft Yi, chaste Rowe, Pope, Huds. ccuts Mai. (misprint?). 

been profaned bf Shakespeare. Rosalind is guilty of no impiety. *■ Holy bread ' was 
merely one of the < ceremonies' which Henry VHIth's Articles of Religion pro- 
nounced good and lawful, having mystical significations in them. * Such/ he says, 
* were the vestments in the worship of God, sprinkling holy water .... giving holy 
breads in sign of our union to Christ,' &c. Another of these Articles declared that in 
the sacrament at the Altar, under the form of bread and wine, there was truly and 
substantially the body of Christ. Wright : Tyndale in his Obedience of a Christian 
Man (Doctrinal Treatises, p. 284, Parker Society ed.), says : * For no man by sprink« 
ling himself with holy water, and with eating holy bread, is more merciful than 
before,' &c. [Do we ever stop to think how either Rosalind or Celia could have 
known anything of Orlando's kisses ? Rosalind, as Rosalind, had met him but once^ 
after the wrestling, and it is unlikely, indeed scarcely thinkable, that Orlando should 
have kissed Ganjrmede, and yet Celia's allusion to ' the very ice of chastity ' seems to 
imply that she spoke either from experience or as a witness. In a subsequent scene, 
where Ganymede and Orlando are talking of kisses, they would surely have kissed 
then had they ever kissed before. Perhaps Rosalind is thinking here only how pure» 
of necessity, must be the kisses of such a man as Orlando, and the kisses to which 
she now refers are of ' those by hopeless fancy feigned on lips that are for others.' 
But, after all, we are in the forest of Arden, and this is but a part of Shakespeare's 
glamour, into which it is sacrilege to pry too curiously.— Ed.] 

17. cast] Theobald: That is, a pair left off hy Diana. Wright: Compare y^rr, 
xxxviii, II : <okl cast clouts and rotten rags.' [Again, 'Tis state .... to have ao 
.... usher march before you .... in a tuftafata jerkin Made of your old cast gown.' 
-^Ram Alleyy IV, i. We have retained the word to this day, having added merely 
0^.-^Ed.] Douce (i, 303) : It is not easy to conceive how the goddess could leave 
offhtr lips ; or how, beinc; left off, Orlando could purchase them. Celia seems rather 
to allude to a statue r<u/ in plaister or metaly the lips of which might well be said to 
possess the ice of chastity. [HalliwcU adopted this note by Douce, and even added 
to it the suggestion by one who prudently remained *■ Anonymous,' that * it would be 
more correct to say that it [jiV] is to a pair of lips cast for a statue, as that kind of 
workmanship is commonly executed in detached parts.' It was a note of Douce't 
similar to the above, though not quite so far fet, that elicited from Dyce the assertion 
that * except those explanatory of customs, dress, &c. the notes of Douce are nearly 
worthless.' — Remarksy p. 96. And here let me record my respectful, but unflinch- 
ing, protest against the interpretation of * cast,' in the sense of cast 4^, as it is given 
in modem editions. The idea that Celia, whose references to Or)ando's kisses have 
been thus far, to say the least, dainty and refined, should be here represented as saying 
that he had bought a pair of worn-out, second-hand, old-cld lips, is to me worse^ than 
absurd ; it is abhorrent. < Cast ' is here either the mere phonetic spelling of chaste^ 
which from the Latin castus retained, it is not unlikely, the hard sound of ^, or it is a 
downright misprint for chast or chaste, which the editor of the Second Folio quickly 
corrected. Moreover, an allusion to her chastity is almost inseparable from Diana; 
this, of itself, would almost justify us in making the change.— Ed.] 
»3 



194 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc iv. 

Ro/a. But why did hee fweare hee would come this 20 

morning, and comes not/ 

Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him. 

Rof. Doe you thinke fo ? 

Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purfe, nor a horfe- 
ftealer, but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as 25 

concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut 

Rof. Not true in loue ? 

CeL Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in. 

Rof. You haue heard him fweare downright he was. 

CeL Was, is not is : befides, the oath of Louer is no 30 

ftronger then the word of a Tapfter, they are both the 
confirmer of falfe reckonings, he attends here in the for- 
reft on the Duke your father. 33 

20. why^wyY^. 32. confirmer] canfirmers Pope+, 

30. Louer"] a Lover Ff, Rowe+, Cap. Cap. Mai. Stecv. Coll. Sta. Qke, Dycc iii, 
Steev. Var. *2I et seq. Huds. 

18. winters] Theobald : It seems to me more probable that the Poet wrote : < a 
nmi of Winifred^ s sisterhood.' Not, indeed, that there was any real religious Order of 
that Denomination, but the legend of St Winifred [as given in Camden's Britannia] 
tells how she suffered death for her chastity. [Warburton, after a vigorous sneer at 
Theobald, in the course of which he denied that there was any sisterhood of St Wini- 
fred, which Theobald had never affirmed, proceeded to apportion the year, to his own 
satisfaction and without the smallest classical authority, among the heathen goddesses, 
winding up with the assertion that * the sisterhood of winter were the votaries of Diana.' 
In his long note there is only one sentence worth heeding or remembering : ' Shake- 
speare meant an unfruitful sisterhood which had devoted itself to chastity.' To this 
add a remark by Douce, which even Dyce adopts, that < Shakespeare poetically feigns 
a new order of nuns most appropriate to his st^ject,' and the passage has received all 
requisite attention, except, perhaps, that Steevens notes ' one circumstance in which 
[Warburton] is mistaken. T^e Golden Legend, p. ccci, &c., gives a full account of St 
Winifred and her sisterhood. — ^W3mkyn de Worde, 1527.' — Ed.] 

22. Cowden-Clarke : Nothing can exceed the sweetness of the touches whereby 
Shakespeare has painted the character of Celia. In three several scenes she appears 
comforting her sprightly cousin in the April tears she sheds, and pretty poutings she 
gives way to, ever petting, humouring, loving, and ministering to Rosalind. Here, 
her irony of banter, her praising under guise of disparaging, her affecting to blame 
the man her cousin loves, that her cousin may have an opportunity of defending and 
eulogising him, are all in the highest taste and most perfect knowledge of womanly 
nature. 

26. couered] Warburton : A goblet is never kept * covered * but when empty. 
M. Mason : It is the idea of hollowness, not that of emptiness, that Shakespeare 
wishes to convey; and a goblet is more completely hollow when covered than when 
it is not. 



ACT III. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 195 

Rof. I met the Duke yefterday, and had much que- 
ftion with him : he askt me of what parentage I was ; I 35 

told him of as good as he, fo he laugh'd and let mee goe. 
But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is fuch a man 
as Orlando? 

Cel. O that^s a braue man, hee writes braue verfes, 
fpeakes braue words, fweares braue oathes, and breakes 40 

them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his lo- 

34. Hartley Coleridge (ii, 140) : Roealind is not a very dutiful daughter, but 
her neglecting so long to make herself known to her father, though not quite proper, 
is natural enough. She cannot but be aware that in her disguise she is acting a peril- 
ous and not very delicate part, which yet is so delightful that she cannot prevail on 
herself to forego it, as her father would certainly have commanded her to do. Noth- 
ing is more common than for children to evade the sin of flat disobedience by decep- 
tion and concealment. Jennie Deans, a stricter moralist than Rosalind, set out on 
her pious pilgrimage without consulting her father, because she could expect no bless- 
ing if she had incurred his express prohibition. This, to be sure, was a practical 
sophism ; but no Jesuit*s head is so full of sophistry as a woman's heart under the 
influence of strong affection. Yet Rosalind might, at any rate, have shown more 
interest in her father's fortunes. 

34* 35* question] Steevens : That is, conversation. See III, il, 360, or V, iv, 
165, or Schmidt. 

37. what] For other examples of < what ' used for why^ see Abbott, § 253. 

37, 38. man as Orlando] Lady Martin (p. 423) : What a world of passionate 
emotion is concentrated in that last sentence, and how important it is to bear this in 
mind in the subsequent scenes with Orlando! 

41. trauers] Warburton : As breaking a lance against his adversary*s breast, in 
a direct line, was honorable, so the breaking it across his breast was, as a mark either 
of want of courage or address, dishonorable ; hence it is that Sidney, describing the 
mock combat of Clinias and Dametas, says : < The wind tooke such hold of his stafFe, 
that it crost quite ouer his breast [and in that sort gaue a flat bastonado to Dametas.' 
— Arcadia^ III, p. 2S4, ed. 1598]. To break across was the usual phrase, as appears 
from some verses of the same author, speaking of an unskilful tilter : * For when he 
most did hit, he ever yet did miss. One said he brake across, full well it so might be.' 
[It is to be feared that Warburton did not read his Arcadia with needful attention, or 
be would have seen that his quotation affords a most meagre illustration of the present 
passage, if indeed it afford any at all. Qinias's staff crossed over, not his adversary's 
breast, but his own, and, moreover, we are expressly told a few lines further on that 
it was not broken. It would not have been worth while to notice this, were it not 
that several editors have followed Warburton and adopted his note without verifica- 
tion. — Ed.] Steevens : So in Northward Ho^ 1607 : * melancholie like a tilter, that 
had broke his staves foul before his mistress.' — [III, i, p. 189, ed. Dyce]. Nares 
calls attention to the skilful manner in which the author of Ivanhoe has introduced 
this circumstance into his tournament. [* The antagonist of Grantmesnil, instead of 
bearing his lance-point fair against the crest or shield of his enemy, swerved so much 
from the direct line as to break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent, a 
circumstance which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually 



196 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi. sc. iv. 

uer, as a puifny Tilter, y fpurs his horfe but on one fide, 42 

breakes his ftaffe like a noble goofe ; but all's braue that 
youth mounts, and folly guides : who comes heere ? 

Enter Corin. 45 

Corin. Miftreffe and Mafter, you haue oft enquired 

42. pui/ny] puny Cap. 43. noble] n^e-quilled Ilan. notable 

y\ that Ff. Sing. Ktly. 

on"] Om. Pope, Theob. Warb. 44. keere"] heete F,. 

Johns. 

unhorsed ; because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the farmer evinced 
awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and the horse.' — Ivanhoe^ 
chap, viii.] 

41, 42. louer] Malone : That is, of his mistress. * Lover ' was applied to both 
men and women. Compare A Lover's Complaint^ where the * lover ' is a despairing 
maiden. So Meas.for Meas. : * Your brother and his lover have embraced/ I, iv, 40. 

42. puitny] Cam. Ed. : Here used not in the modem sense of diminutivey but in 
the now obsolete sense of inferior^ umskiUed. Wright : Cotgrave has * Puisn6. Punie, 
younger, borne after.' 

42, 44. spurs . . . guides] Again, there is a variation in copies of the Second 
Folio (see line 32 of the preceding scene). The Cam. Ed. records as the spelling 
of these two words in that Folio : spumes and guider. In my copy they are spurres 
and guides. Again, a similar variation occurs in * drops ' of line 8 in the next scene, 
which in the Cambridge Editors' copy of F, is props ; in mine it is not misspelled. 
Therefore, the proof is conclusive that the copy of the Cam. Ed. is an earlier impres- 
sion than mine, and as all four of these exrorSf/aule, spurrus^ guider ^ tJiAprops^ occur oa 
two pages facing each other, it is likely that they were all corrected at the same time, 
and their number was a sufficient cause to stop the work of striking off and to unlock 
the forms, ffae fahula docet how remote from Shakespeare's hand the text of the 
Folios is, and how careful we should be not to place too much reliance on collation. 
—Ed. 

43. noble] For this word Hanmer actually substituted in the text nose-quilled; 
* but,' says Farmer, with nalvet6, < no one seems to have regarded the alteration.' 
Whereupon he proceeds to ' regard * it seriously, and adds : ' Certainly nose-quilled is 
an epithet likely to be corrupted ; it gives the image wanted, and may in a great 
measure be supported by a quotation from Turberville's Falconrie : ^ Take with you a 
ducJke, and slip one of her wing-feathers^ and having thrust it through her nares^ 
throw her out unto your hawke." ' Steevens too backs up Fanner with a citation 
from Philaster: < He shall .... be seel'd up With a feather through his nose, that,' 
&c.— [V, iv, p. 298, ed. Dyce. However much such a tampering with the text of 
Shakespeare, by exsufHicate and blown surmises, invites flippancy and excuses disre- 
spect, the temptation must be resisted to couple for the nonce in the same sentence the 
name of Sir Thomas Hanmer and a 'noble goose.'— Ed.] Caldecott: By the 
phrase ' noble goose ' is perhaps meant a magnanimous simpleton of an adventurer. 
Singer : I do not hesitate to read < notable goose ' instead of ' noble.' The epithet 
is often used by the poet. Keightley : Singer, very unnecessarily and most tamely, 
reads n<ftable. Printing fhnn his edition, I have heedlessly followed him in mine. 




ACT ni, sc. v.J AS YOU UKE IT I97 

After the Shepheard that complainM of loue, 47 

Who you (aw fitting by me on the Turph, 

Fraifing the proud difdainfull ShepherdeiTe 

That was his Miflreffe. 50 

CeL Well : and what of him ? 

Cor. If you will fee a pageant truely plaid 
Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue, 
And the red glowe of fcome and prowd difdaine^ 
Goe hence a little^ and I fliall condu£l you 55 

If you will marke it 

Rof. O come, let vs remoue, 
The fight of Louers feedeth thofe in loue : 
Bring vs to this fight, and you (hall (ay 
He proue a bufie a£lor in their play. Exeunt. 60 



Scena Quinta. 



Enter Siluius and Phebe. 

Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not fcome me, do not Phebe 
Say that you loue me not, but fay not fo 
In bitteme(re ; the common executioner 4 

48. Who] Whom Ff, Rowe+, Ci^. us to see Jervis, Dyce iii, Coll. iii, Huds. 

Huds. Rife. 

55. and'] as Allen conj. 60. He] /Dyce conj. 

59. Bring vs to] Bring us M to Scene XI. Pq)e+. 

Popc-f. Come, Mng us to Cap. Bring [Changes to another part of the 

us unto Mai. Steer. Cald. Ktly. Bring Forest. Theob. 

2. not Phebe] not, Phebe, F^F^. 

47. that] Abbott, % a6o : Since that introduces an essential characteristic without 
which the description is not complete, it follows, that, eren where this distinction is 
not marked, that comes generally nearer to the antecedent than who or which, [As 
to * who ' for whom in the next line, see Shakespeare, j^assim, or Abbott, $ 274. See 
also the same sequence, < that ' followed by * who,' in lines 14, 1 5 of the next Scene.] 

52. pageant] Whiter (p. 56): The < pageant* of hue seems to have been 
impressed on the mind of our poet. So in Mid. N. D, III, ii, 112, Puck speaks of 
< the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a iovev*s fee. Shall we their fond pageant 
Beer 

59. vs to] Jervis (p. 12) : Read ; ' Bring us to see,* &c. Compare < To see this 
sight, it irks my very soul.' — j Hen. VI: II, H. 

4. Even this line Abbott ($ 494) will not ootmteiMiice as an Alesaadrine) be layi 



198 AS YOU LIKE IT [act hi, sc. v. 

Whofe heart th'accuftomM fight of death makes hard S 

Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck, 

But firft begs pardon : will you ftemer be 

Then he that dies and Hues by bloody drops ? 8 

8. dies and iiues by] deals and lives by^ Cap. lives and dies by Coll. conj. 
by Theob. lives and thrives by Han. Ktly. sheds and lives by Ktly conj. 
deals^ and lives by, Warb. eyes, and lives daily lives by Heath. 

that in the last foot one of the two extra syllables is slurred : * In bft | temdss. | The 
c<5m I mon ^x | tc6lioner.* To my ear the remedy is worse than the disease. — Ed. 

6. Falls] For many instances of the conversion of intransitive into transitive verbs 
see Abbott, § 291 ; also the same, § 120, for the use of ' But ' in the next line, in the 
sense of $xcept or without. Douce (i, 303) : There is no doubt that the expression 
' to fall the axe ' may with propriety refer to the usual mode of decapitation ; but if it 
could be shown that in the reign of Elizabeth this punishment was inflicted in Eng- 
land by an instrument resembling the French guillotine, the expression would perhaps 
seem even more appropriate. Among the cuts to the first edition of Holinshed's 
Chronicle such a machine is twice introduced. [Douce hereupon shows that the 
so-called ' Halifax Gibbet ' and * the Maiden ' in Scotland were quite similar instru- 
ments, and from a contemporary MS account in his possession of the execution of 
Morton for the murder of Damley, where it is said he < layde his head under the axe* 
there can be no doubt of the fact that such a mode of beheading was practised. 
Haydn {Diet, of Dates) says that the ' Halifax Gibbet ' was used as late as 1650.] 

8. dies and Hues] Warburton : The executioner lives, indeed, by bloody drops, 
if you will ; but how does he die by bloody drops ? The poet must certainly have 
wrote ' deals and lives,' &c. Johnson : I should rather read : < he that dyes his lips 
by bloody drops.' Will you speak with more sternness than the executioner, whose 
lips are used to be sprinkled with blood ? Steevens : I am afraid our bard is at his 
quibbles again. To die means as well to dip a thing in a colour foreign to its own, as 
to expire. In this sense, contemptible as it is, the executioner may be said Xo die zs 
well as live by bloody drops. Shakespeare is fond of opposing these terms to each 
other. TOLLET : That is, he who, to the very end of his life, continues a common 
executioner ; as in V, ii : * live and die a shepherd.' Musgrave : To die and live by 
a thing is to be constant to it, to persevere in it to the end. Lives, therefore, does not 
signify is maintained, but the two verbs taken together mean who is conversant all his 
life with bloody drops. Capell [see Text. Notes] : That is, is accustomed to look 
upon blood, and gets his livelihood by it. That this is the sense of the line, and eyes 
the true correction of the printer's word ' dies,' will want no proving to him who but 
considers it's nearness, and gives another perusal to the third line before it Cal- 
DECOTT : Who by bloodshed makes to die or causes death ; and by such death-doing 
makes his living or subsists— who by the means he uses to cut off life, carves out to 
himself the means of living. Compare the epitaph on Burton : < Cui Vitam pariter et 
Mortem Dedit Melancholia.' Collier {Notes, &c., p. 134) : The MS corrector for 
< dies ' substitutes kills. Can dines have been the true word ? Arrowsmith {Notes 
&* Qu. 1st Ser. vol. vii, p. 542) : This hysteron proteron is by no means uncommon : 
its meaning is, of course, the same as live and die, i. e. subsist from the cradle to the 
grave. All manner of whimsical and farfetched constructions have been put by the 
conmientators upon this very homely sentence. As long as the question was whether 



ACT III, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 199 

Enter Ro/alindy Celiuy and Corin. 
Phe. I would not be thy executioner, 10 

I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee : 
Thou tellft me there is murder in mine eye, 
'Tis pretty fure,and very probable^ 
That eyes that are the frailft, and fofteft things. 
Who (hut their coward gates on atomyes, 15 

Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers. 
Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart. 
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: 
Now counterfeit to fwound, why now fell downe, 19 

« 

9. Enter...] Enter Celia and Rosa- 12. eye\ eyes 'Kom^-^r . 

lind, at a distance, Corin leading them. 13. pretty fure^ Ff, Rowe, Pope. 

Cap. Enter... Corin, behind. Coll. P^f^i sure^ Theob. et seq. 

12. murder] murther Ff, Rowe, Pope, 1 9. /wound'] swoon Pope. 
Theob. Han. Warb. Wh. i. 

their wits should have license to go a- woolgathering or no, one could feel no great con* 
cem to interfere ; but it appears high time to come to Shakespeare's rescue when Col- 
lier's ' clever ' old commentator, with some little variation in the letters, and not much 
less in the sense, reads kills for ' dies.* Compare * With sorrow they both die and live 
That unto richesse her hertes geve.* — The Romaunt of the Rose^ v. 5789. * He is a 
foole, and so shall he dye and Hue, That thinketh him wise, and yet can he nothing.' 
— Barclay's Ship of Fooles^ I570> fol. 67. * Behold how ready we are, how willingly 
the women of Sparta will die and live with their husbands.' — The Pilgrimage of 
Kings and Princes ^ p. 29. [Until this conclusive note appeared, Dyce (/Jsw Notes, 
p. 68) was inclined to agree with Steevens's * quibble.' Halliwell repeats Arrow- 
smith's note, and to the examples there given adds one which, as he says, is somewhat 
different : * I live and die, I die and live, in languor I consume.' — Achelley's Lament- 
able and Tragicall Historie, &c., 1576. Ingleby {The Still Lion, p. 59) adopts Dr 
Sebastian Evans's paraphrase of the present passage, as meaning * a man's profession 
or calling, by which he lives, and failing which he dies,' where the felicitousness of 
the phrase blinds us to the fact that it does not explain the curious inversion of dying 
and living. — Ed.] 

II. for] That is, because. 

13. pretty sure] Note the almost comic turn which the omission of the comma 
gives this phrase. Of course, as Douce points out, 'sure ' is here surely. — Ed. 

14. That] See line 47 of the preceding scene ; and for < who,' in the next line, 
see Abbott, § 264, where examples may be found of < who personifying irrational ante- 
cedents.' 

18. And if] This \& anif according to Abbott, § 103. 

19. swound] The pronunciation of this word also was in a transition state when 
the Folio was printing. In IV, iii, 166 it is spelled ' swoon, and in V, ii, 29 it appears 
in its homely garb ' sound,' which, I think, must have been its common pronunciation 
for many a long day. The Nurse in Rom. ^ Jul. Ill, ii, 56 says : 'All in gore blood : 
I sounded at the sight ;' where < sounded ' may possibly have been pronounced soonded; 



30O AS YOU LIKE IT [act in. sc. v 

Or if thou canft not, oh for fliame, for fhame, 20 

Lye not, to fay mine eyes are murtherers : 

Now fliew the wound mine eye hath made in thee, 

Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaines 

Some fcarre of it : Leane vpon a rufli 

The Cicatrice and capable impreffure 25 

22. eye hath'\ eyes hath Rowe il, Steev. Ktly, Dyce iii, Rife, Wh. ii. Lean thee 

'85. eyes have Pope + . Jervia. 

24. Leane'\ Leane but Yi^ Rowe + , 25. ra/a^/r] /o^^/f Sing. Coll. (MS) 

Cap. Steev. Mai. Coll. Sing. Cam. Clke, ii, Ktly. 

at least, no w was pronounced, whatever may have been the sound of the ou. Cer- 
tain it is that * sound ' rhymed with fottnd in Scottish poetry, where again the latter 
word may have been pronoimced foond. It is simply noteworthy that the soimd of 
the w is sometimes present and sometimes lacking, and that, when lacking, it is by 
no means a mark of vulgarity, as we might, perhaps, infer from its use by Juliet's 
Nurse ; < sound ' from Rosalind's lips could not but be refined. Cf. an old ballad of 
The Wofull Death of Queene Jane, wife to King Henry the Eighty and haw King 
Edward was cut out of his mother : * She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond. 
They opend her two sides, and the baby was found.' — Child's English and Scottish 
Popular Balkuis, Part vi, p. 373. We do not now pronounce the w in anstver, nor 
commonly in sword, although my fitther sa3rs that in his childhood, more than eighty 
years ago, in New England, he was always taught t6 pronounce the w in the latter 
word, and I have heard Edward Everett pronounce it. Many, very many instances 
could be given of sound in the old dramatists. Malone went so far as to say that it 
was always so written, or else swound; the example * swoon ' in the present play shows 
that his remark was too general, and that the pronunciation was, as I have said, in a 
transition state. — Ed. 

19. why now] I think a comma should be placed after ' now,' not after < why,* 
where it is generally put 

21. Lye not, to say] Allen (MS) : That is, lie not to such an extent as to say. 

24. Leane] As Wright says, htt is added in the Second Folio 'perhaps unneces- 
sarily, as broken lines are defective in metre ' ; at the same time, it keeps up the con- 
struction, < scratch thee but with a pin.' — Ed. 

25. Cicatrice] Johnson : Here not very properly used ; it is the scar of a wound. 
[Here it is simply, as Dyce defines it, the mark.] Staunton : The only difficulty 
in the line is this word, which certainly appears here to be used in an exceptional 
sense. 

25. capable impressure] Johnson : That is, hollow mark. Malone : < Capable,' 
I believe, here XDJtviA perceptible. Our author often uses the word for intelligent. So 
in Ham. HI, iv, 126: 'His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones. Would 
make them capable.' Singer : It is evident we should read palpable. For no one 
can surely be satisfied with the strained explanations offered by Johnson and Malone. 
Collier: Palpable is the correction of the (MS). Blackwood's Magazine: 
* Capable impressure ' means an indentation in the p>alm of the hand sufficiently deep 
to contain something within it White : < Capable ' is used here in a peculiarly and 
unmistakeably Shakespearian manner for receivable. Yet it has been proposed to 
xtaA palpable. The change is one of a kind that commends itself to the approval of 



ACT III, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT aoFi 

Thy palme fome moment keepes : but now mine eyes 36 

Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not, 
Nor I am fure there is no force in eyes 
That can doe hurt. 

Sil. O deere Phebe, 30 

If euer (as that euer may be neere) 
You meet in fome frefli cheeke the power of ^ncie. 
Then fhall you know the wouuds inuifible 
That Loues keene arrows make. 

Phe. But till that time 35 

Come not thou neere me : and when that time comes, 
Afflift me with thy mockes, pitty me not, 
As till that time I fliall not pitty thee. 

Rof. And why I pray youPwho might be your mother 39 

28. Nor\ Now Quincy (MS). And 31. neere] near F^F^. 
Ktly conj. 32. meet] met Ff, Rowe i. 

29. doe hurt] do any hurt Han« do 33. wouuds] F,. wound^s Pope, Han. 
hurt to any Cap. do hurt to any one 39. why.„you P] why f,.,you^ CoIL 
KUy. u. 

30. O] O my Han. you F] you ? [Advancing] Cap. 

Cbose who have not fully apprehended the peculiarities of Shakespeare's diction, pecn* 
liarities without affectation, and who seize on an emendation of a supposed corruptioik 
to guide them through an obscurity which exists but in their own perception. A com- 
plete counterpart to the use of * capable impressure ' here is found in the phrase ' cap- 
tious and intenible sieve.' — AWi Welly I, iii, 208. Staunton: 'Capable' means 
tensible. [See Abbott, §§ 3, 445, for instances of other adjectives in -^/r, used both 
actively and passively.] 

26. some moment] Rolfs : Compare Rom. &* Jul. V, iii, 257 : < some minute 
ere the time,' &c. * Some ' is still used with singular nouns to express kind or quan- 
tity ; as in * some fresh cheek ' in line 32 just below, * some food.' — Temp. I, ii, 160, &c 
We can even say * some half an hour,' — Lov^s Lab. L. V, ii, 90 ; * some month or 
t9ro.^-^Afer. of Ven. HI, ii, 9, &c. It is doubtful, indeed, whether there is any Shake- 
spearian use of the word which might not be allowed now. In Temp. I, ii, 7 (' Who 
had no doubt some noble creature in her'), Dyce, Staunton, and others read * crea- 
tures'; but even here the singular would not be clearly an exceptional instance. 

28. Nor . . . no] For double negatives see Shakespeare, /oJiMFf, or Abbott, $$ 406, 
408. 

30. deere] Moberly : A dissyllable, and the missing syllables are probably filled 
op by a laugh of derision. 

32. fancie] Johnson : Here used for lave [and always so used in Shakespeife, 
might be added]. 

39. mother] Johnson : It is common for the poets to express cruelty by Mying 
of those who commit it that they were bom of rocks or suckled by tigresses. Cow- 
den-Clarke : It seems evident to us that there was in Shakespeare's time some point 
in making allusion to a beauty's mother. Here there is a scoff implied in this que*- 



202 AS you LIKE IT [act hi. sc. v. 

That you infult^exultyand all at once 40 

Ouer the wretched ? what though you hau no beauty 

40. in/ult,..once\ insult, and, all at Whait though Ktly. 

once, exult Ktly. 41. hau no] F,. have Thcob. Warb. 

and. ..once"] and rail, at once Johns. Steev. ^«z/^ j^w^ Han. Dyce iii. 

Theob. Warb. Sing, and domineer Han. have mo Mai. Var. *2I. have more Steev. 

d V outrecuidance Forbes (N. 6f* Qu. vi, '93. 

423) and tyrannise Gould. 41, 42. hau no beauty As] have more 

41. what though] What though ? Sing. beauty Yet Quincy (MS). 

tion, and in Cym. Ill, iv, there is a passage which has puzzled commentators, but 
which we think is readily comprehensible if our theory be correct. • Some jay of 
Italy, whose mother was her painting,' appears to us to contain the like contemptuous 
reference to a would-be beauty's origin, as in the sentence of the text. 

40. all at once] Warburton : If the speaker intended to accuse the person 
spoken to only for insulting and exulting, then, instead of * all at once,' it ought to 
have been * both at once.' But, by examining the crime of the person accused, we 
shall discover that the [phrase should be] : * rail at once.' Heath (p. 150) : Phebe 
had in truth both insulted and exulted, but had not said one single word which could 
deserve the imputation of railing. Steevens : I see no need of emendation. The 
speaker may mean : * that you insult, exult, and that, too, all in a breath^ Such is, 
perhaps, the meaning of * all at once.' Singer : It has been asked, * What <' all at 
once " can possibly mean here ?' It would not be easy to give a satisfactory answer. 
It is certainly a misprint, and we confidently read rail, with Warburton. Grant 
White speaks of Warburton's conjecture as * somewhat plausible.' [On the follow- 
ing passage in Hen. V: I, i, 36 : * Never was such a sudden scholar made ; Never 
came reformation in a flood ; With such a heady currance, scouring faults ; Nor never 
Hydra-headed wilfulness So soon did lose his seat, and all at once. As in this king,' 
Staunton has this note :] This ' and all at once ' was a trite phrase in Shakespeare's 
day, though not one of his editors has noticed it. [The present passage in As You 
Like It is then referred to.] It is frequently met with in the old writers. Thus, in 
The Fisherman^ s Tale, 1594, by F. Sabie : * She wept, she cride, she sob'd, and all at 
once.' And in Middleton's Changeling, IV, iii : * Does love turn fool, run mad, and 
all at once ?' Keightley : Read, * That you insult and exult all at once.' This 
transposition removes all necessity for correction. Strange that the critics should not 
have thought of it ! In my edition the transposition is wrong. Schmidt {s. v. once, 
i) : And all the rest, and everything else. Wright, after citing Staunton's illustra- 
tions, says : The first of these [from Hen, V] is not to the point, and a reference to 
the others would not have been necessary had it not been proposed to substitute for 
what gives a very plain meaning, either rail or domineer. [If a paraphrase be really 
needed, Steevens's seems to be near enough. — Ed.] 

41. hau no] Theobald: It is very accurately observed to me, by an ingenious 
unknown correspondent, who signs himself L. H., that the negative ought to be left 
out. [The letter of L. H. to Theobald is printed in Nichols's Illust. vol. ii, p. 632.] 
Capell : The gentlemen who have thrown out the negative, and the other who has 
chang'd it to some, make the Poet a very bad reasoner in the line that comes next to 
this sentence ; and guilty of self-contradiction in several others, if * no ' be either 
alter'd or parted with : besides the injury done to him in robbing him of a lively 
expression, and a pleasantry truly comick ; for as the sentence now stands, the conse- 



ACT III, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 203 

[what though you hau no beauty] 
qnence that should have been from her beauty he draws from her * no beauty/ and 
extorts a smile by defeating your expectation. This ' no beauty ' of Phebe's is the 
burthen of all Rosalindas speeches, from hence to her exit. Malone : That * no ' is 
a misprint appears clearly from the passage in Lodge's Rosalyndty which Shakespeare 
has here imitated : * Because thou art beautiful, be not so coy ; as there is nothing 
more faire, so there is nothing more fading.' * No ' was, I believe, a misprint for mo. 
So in III, ii, 257 : <mar no moe of my verses.' 'What though I should allow you 
had more beauty than he (says Rosalind), though by my faith,' &c. (for such is the 
force of As in the next line), ' must you therefore treat him with disdain ?' M. 
Mason : If more is to stand, then we must read ' had more beauty,' instead of ' have.' 
ToLLET : I have no doubt that the original reading * no ' is right. It is conformable 
to the whole tenor of Rosalind's speech, particularly the line : ' Foul is most foul, 
being foul to be a scoffer.' That mo or more was not the word used is proved by the 
passage : < You are a thousand times t^properer man Than she a woman* Whiter : 
Toilet's instance is foreign to the purpose. Take an example in point : ' thc^ there 
was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very i^wtunable.' — ^V, iii. Collier : 
The meaning seems quite clear. Rosalind intends throughout her speech to check 
the vanity of Phebe, and begins by telling her she has no beauty, and therefore no 
excuse for being * proud and pitiless.' The difficulty seems to be to imderstand 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 Sylvius, because Rosalind says he was < a properer man.' Singer : 
The negative particle was not intended to be taken literally. What though / is an 
elliptical interrogation, and is again used in Mid. N» />., ' What though he love your 
Hermia? Lord, what though?' Grant White: Rosalind's purpose is solely to 
take the conceit out of Phebe. Walker {Crii. i, 308) : *No' is evidently wrong. 
Somty I think, little as (even when shortened to som) it resembles ' no.' [Foot-note by 
Lettsom] : In this class of errors there is often little or no resemblance between the 
ejected and the substituted word. I believe som to be right ; but we should also read 
had for * hau,' as the Folio prints the word, confoimding d with the long u or v. See 
Dyce's Remarks^ p. 21 [where unquestionable instances are given of such confusion]. 
Dyce (ed. iii) : The fact is, * no ' was inserted by a mistake of the transcriber or com- 
positor, whose eye caught it from the next line. Wright : The negative is certainly 
required, because Rosalind's object is to strike a blow at Phebe's vanity. [Unques« 
tionably, Rosalind's object is * to strike a blow at Phebe's vanity ' and * to take the con- 
ceit out of her.' The question, it seems to me, is : will this end be gained as effect- 
ively by denying that the girl has any beauty at all as by granting that she has no more 
than the ordinary of nature's sale-work. To tell Phebe roundly that she had no beauty 
whatsoever would be overshooting the mark. The devotion of Silvius disproves that. 
Phebe knew she was pretty, and though inky brows and black silk hair were not 
deemed as bewitching, in former times, as those of gold, yet cheeks of cream have 
never been despised since blushes first mantled them. To have acknowledged that 
she had some beauty, no more than without candle may go dark to bed, is damning 
with very faint praise, the bitterest of all condemnation ; it is a disprizing, the pangs 
whereof Hamlet teaches us. Furthermore, to be strictly logical, can a maiden with 
no beauty, therefore^ or on that account, be proud ? But if she has only a little beauty 
it may well be asked whether she is therefore to be proud and pitiless. Accordingly, 
the text which I should follow would be Hanmer's. — Ed.] 



204 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iii^ sc t. 

As by my faith, I fee no more in you 42 

Then without Candle may goe darke to bed : 

Muft you be therefore prowd and pittileffe? 

Why what meanes this ? why do you looke on me ? 4$ 

I fee no more in you then in the ordinary 

Of Natures fale-worke/'ods my little life, 

I thinke fhe meanes to tangle my eies too : 

No faith proud Miftreffe, hope not after it, 

'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke filke haire, 50 

Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creame 

That can entame my fpirits to your worfhip : 

You foolifli Shepheard, wherefore do you follow hef 

Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine. 

You are a thoufand times a properer man 55 

Then (he a woman. 'Tis fuch fooles as you 

43. Cf. La nnit, toos lea chats sont 50. blacke ,., haire\ black -silk hair 

gris.— ^Ed. Cap. Steev. Mai. Coll. Sing. Dyce, Sta. 

48. my e%es\ mine eyes Ff, Rowe+» black si/k-kair KHy. 

Cap. 52. entame] entraine Warb. conj. 

50. yonr inkie] you inkie F,. 56. woman.] woman : Cap. 

1 ■ - - - ' — -■- — - - - — . _ - - . 

43. darke] Moberly : That is, without exciting any particular desire for light to 
■ee it by. 

46. This line, as line 4 aboTe, Abbott classes among 'Apparent Alexandrines ' by a 
mode of scansion to which I cannot become reconciled : * I s^ | no mdre | in ydu | 
than fn | the 6Tdinary* I had rather have the slow dragging of a dozen wounded 
boa-constrictors than the ' slurring ' of syllables which is here recommended.^-£D. 

47. salc-worke] Warburton : The allusion is to the practice of mechanics, whose 
work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or 
to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called ' sale-work.' Wright : The modem 
phrase is * ready-made goods.' 

51. bugle] Murray (New Eng. Did.) : A tube-shi^d glass bead, usually black, 
and to ornament wearing apparel. [Examples follow from Spenser, 1579, to the pres- 
ent day. Its colour here, we learn fix>m Fhebe ; in line 135 she says : * He said mint 
eyes were black.'— Ed.] 

52. entame] Abbott, § 440 : That is, bring into a state of tameness. 

53. Again Abbott, § 458, thus scans : * You fool | ish sh^p | herd, wh^re | fore d<5 1 
you iSilow her^ 

54. foggy South, puffing] Caldecott: Compare *Pu£b away from thence, 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.' — Rom. ^ Jul. I, iT. 

56. 'Tis] Capell was the first to desert the good punctuation of the Folio here, 
and has been followed by nearly every editor, except White in his first edition, even 
down to Verity in his edition for Irving. A full stop in the middle of a line is so 
unusual in F,, that it deserves more attention than the punctuation in that edition 
generally merits. Frequently it indicates a change of address, as in II, vii, 204; III, 



ACT III, sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 205 

That makes the world full of ill-fauourd children : 57 

'Tis not her glafle, but you that flatters her, 

And out of you fhe fees her felfe more proper 

Then any of her lineaments can fhow her : 60 

But Miftris, know your felfe, downe on your knees 

And thanke heauen, fading, for a good mans loue; 

For I muft tell you friendly in your eare. 

Sell when you can, you are not for all markets : 

Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer, 65 

Foule is moft foule, being foule to be a fcoffer. 

So take her to thee Shepheard,&reyouwell. 

Pile. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together, 
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe. 

Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulneffe, & fhee'U 70 

57. tnakes\ Ff, Rowe, Cap. Cam. Ktly, Pope et cet 

Rife, Wb. ii. maJie Pope et cet 7a [Aside.] Johns. 

58. flatter5\ flatter Rowe ii + . y<mr\ her Han. Johns. Cap. Steev. 
64. when'\ what Rowe i. Mai. Dyce iii, Coll. iii, Huds. 

67. fareyouwell^ fare you well Ff. &»fliee'll'\ To Silvins. Andshe^U 

70-73. Dividing lines, flie^ll.,.fo^.^. Sing. 
lookeSf. ,. words. „me f Ktly. As Prose, fliee'll'\youUlYXLy, 

i, 16, also in line 71 of this present scene ; and such a change, I think, is indicated 
here. It is to Phebe, not to Silvius, that Rosalind says, < 'Tis such fools as you,' &c. 
The words are another stab at Phebe's personal vanity. It is she, with her folly, that 
is to be the mother of ill-favoured children. Rosalind is espousing Silvius's part, and 
although she has just called him * foolish,' that is not the same as calling him a ' fool.' 
After having compared him with Phebe on the score of physical beauty, and pro- 
nounced him a thousand times a properer man, it is not exactly in keeping to say 
that he is to be the father of ugly children. Of course, the text shows clearly enough 
that lines 58-60 are addressed to Silvius, but it is the punctuation here in line 56 
which, I think, was intended to be our guide.-~ED. 

57. That makes] Wright : The verb is singular because the nominative is the 
idea contained in what precedes, as if it had been, * 'tis the fact of there being such 
fools as you that makes,' &c. [See Abbott, § 247.] 

66. Warburton : The only sense of this is : An ill-favoured person is most ill- 
finvoured when, if he be ill-favoured, he is a scoffer. Which is a deal too absurd to 
come from Shakespeare ; who, without question, wrote : < being /ound to be a scoffer ' ; 
i, e, where an ill-favoured person ridicules the defects of others, it makes his own 
appear excessive. Heath : Mr Warburton first of all gives us a very false and absurd 
interpretation of this passage, and then on the foundation of that very absurdity, which 
is wholly his own, and not to be found in the text, he rejects the authentic reading, to 
make room for his own very flat emendation. Johnson : The sense is. The ugly seem 
™oBt ugly, when, thn^k ugly, they are scoffers. Abbott, § 356 : This seems to 
mean : foulness is most foul when its foulness consists m heit^ scomiiil. [For this 
use of the infinitive see I, i, 109; II, vii, 182.] 



206 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act III, SC. V. 



Fall in loue with my anger. If it be fo, as fall 

As (he anfweres thee with frowning lookes, ile fauce 

Her with bitter words : why looke you fo vpon me? 

Phe. For no ill will I beare you. 

Rof. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee, 
For I am falfer then vowes made in wine : 
Befides, I like you npt : if you will know my houfe, 
'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by : 
Will you goe Sifter ? Shepheard ply her hard : 
Come Sifter : Shepheardeffe, looke on him better 
And be not proud, though all the world could fee, 
None could be fo abusM in fight as hee. 
Come, to our flocke, Exit. 

Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy faw of might. 
Who euer lovM,that louM not at firft fight? 



71 



75 



80 



85 



80. Sifiery] Sifter, Fj. Sifter F^. 

81. fee'\ see ye Han. 

83. Come^ Come F^F^ Rowe i. 



84. Dead'\ Deed Ff, Rowe, Warb. 
^Deedy Han. 



70. your] If Hanmer's change to her be adopted, Johnson's marking of this speech 
as an Aside seems proper enough. And yet it seems necessary that Silvius should 
hear it in order that he may understand why Rosalind should sauce Phebe with bitter 
words. Again, note the break in the line, which may give emphasis, as in line 56, to 
the change of address ; yet it will not do to build too much on this, or on any punc- 
tuation in the Folio. Surely, if anywhere, a full stop as ai^ indication of the change 
of address is needed in line 73. — ^Ed. 

72. sauce] RoLFE : Cf. our vulgarism of ' sassing ' a person. From meaning to 
give zest or piquancy to language, the word came to be used ironically in the sense of 
making it hot and sharp ; or, in other words, from meaning to spice, it came to mean 
\a pepper, 

77. Again, according to Abbott, § 499, this is only an < apparent Alexandrine.' But 
this time it is not the final syllables which are slurred over, but the single foot < Besides ' 
which precedes the line and creates the false show. 

82. abus'd] Johnson : Thdugh all mankind could look on you, none could be so 
deceived as to think you beautiful but he. 

84. Dead Shepheard] Dyce (Marlowe's Works, i, xlviii) : These words sound 
not unlike an expression of pity for Marlowe's sad and untimely end. 

85. Capell was the first to discover that this <saw' is from Marlowe's Hero and 
Leander, the paraphrase of a poem by the Pseudo-Musseus, first printed in 1598, 
although the edition which Capell used was that of 1637. The line is in the First 
Sestiad (p. 12, ed. Dyce): 'Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever 
lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?' It is also given in England^ s Parnassus, 1600, 
p. 308, Collier's Reprint, and on p. 423 of Capell's School. — Ed. Malone : This 
poem of Marlowe's was so popular (as appears from many contemporary writers) that 



ACT III. sc. v.] AS you LIKE IT 207 

SU. Sweet /%^3^. 86 

Phe. Hah: what faift thou Siluius ? 

SU. Sweet Phebe pitty me, 

Phe. Why I am forry for thee gentle Siluius. 

SU. Where euer forrow is, reliefe would be : 90 

If you doe forrow at my griefe in loue, 
By giuing loue your forrow, and my griefe 
Were both exterminM* 

Phe. Thou haft my loue, is not that neighbourly? 

SU. I would haue you. 95 

Phe. Why that were couetoufneffe : 
SUuius; the time was, that I hated thee ; 
And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue. 
But fince that thou canft talke of loue fo well, 
Thy company, which erft was irkefome to me lOO 

I will endure ; and He employ thee too : 
But doe not looke for further recompence 
Then thine owne gladneffe, that thou art employd 

5/7. So holy, and fo perfeft is my loue, 
And I in fuch a pouerty of grace, 105 

That I (hall thinke it a moft plenteous crop 
To gleane the broken eares after the man 
That the maine harueft reapesJoofe now and then 108 

86. Phebe.] Phebe, — Cap. et seq. Rowe, Pope, Han. 

87. Siluiiu] Sihna Johns, (misprint ?). 105. grace"] grace attends it Rowe, 

92. loue yoter forrow,'] love, your SOT' Pope, Han. 

row Rowe et seq. 106. plenteous] plentious Ff. 

105. And I in] And in Y^ And F^F^, 108. loo/e] lofe F^, Rowe. 

a quotation from it must have been known at once, at least by the more enlightened 
part of the audience. Shakespeare again alluded to it in The 7\vo Gent. [This 
* allusion ' is merely a reference to the story of Hero and Leander. The only twist 
whereby Malone can there make it refer to Marlowe's Poem, which is of a later date 
than The Tkuo Gent., is to suppose that Shakespeare read the poem in MS before its 
publication. — Ed.] 

93. eztermin'd] Exterminated. Wright: Compare exiirp and extirpated, 
RoLFE : Used by Shakespeare only here. Its equivalent, exterminate, he does not 
use at all. 

94. neighbourly] Halliwell: These words seem scarcely natural to the 
speaker, unless it be presumed there is here an allusion to the injunction to < Ioyc 
thy neighbour as th3r8elf.' 

98. yet it is not] Rev. John Hunter : The time is not yet 

99. since that] See I, iii, 44, or Abbott, $ 287. 



90S AS YOU LIKE IT [act in, sc. v. 

A fcattred fmile,and that He Hue vpon. Awhile? 

Phe. Knowft thou the youth that fpoke to mee yere- I lO 

Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft, 
And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds 
That the old Carlot once was Mafter of. 

Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him, 
'Tis but a peeuifti boy, yet he talkes well, 115 

But what care I for words ? yet words do well 
When he that fpeakes them pleafes thofe that heare : 
It is a pretty youth, not very prettie. 
But fure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him; 
Hee'U make a proper man: the beft thing in him 1 20 

Is his complexion : and iafler then his tongue 
Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp : 
He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall : 
His leg is but fo fo,and yet 'tis well : 124 

109. fcattred'] fcattered Ff, Rowe. 123. very\ Om. Han. Cap. Steev. '93, 

scattered Pope et seq. Dyce iii. 

no. yerewhile] F,Fj. 124. /o/o\ so Johns. 
113. Carlot] Roman, first by Steev. 

no. yerewhile] Wright calls attention to this spelling in the first three Folios, 
and adds: < So in the Authorised Version of 1 611 < ere' is spelt 'yer' in Numbert 
xi, 33; xiv, ii.» 

113. Carlot] Douce: That v&y peasant, from carie or churl; probably a word of 
Shakespeare's coinage. Dyce : It is evidently the diminutive of ror/— churl (com- 
pare * My master is of churlish disposition,' — II, iv, 84, where the same person is 
alluded to). And see Richardson's Diet, in v. Carle. CoLUER (ed. ii) : Richardson, 
under Carl, quotes Shakespeare's ' Carlot,' and says Drayton has Carlet in his Barani 
WdrSf B. V. He has Cartel in B. iv, but by Cartel he means Herckley, Constable of 
Carlisle. Shakespeare alone uses < Carlot.' Keightley : It is printed as a proper 
name, and it may be the Spanish Carloto. No such substantive as < carlot ' is known. 

114. Caldecott : Trinculo does not more naturally betray himself when he says : 
* By this good light, a very shallow monster : / afeard of him f a very shallow mon- 
ster.' — Temp. II, ii. Fletcher (p. 203) : Of Phebe, in name and character no less 
an ideal shepherdess than Rosalind is an ideal princess, it may be said that we might 
have been grateful for her creation, even had she been introduced for no other pur- 
pose than to give us the enamoured lines which convey so exquisite a portrait of this 
terrestrial Ganymede. 

115. peeuish] Cotgrave has: Hargntux. Peeuish, wrangling, diuerous, ouer- 
thwart, crosse, waiward, froward ; ill to please, euer compla]ming, neuer quiet. 

123. very] Walker (Crit. i, 269) agrees with Hanmer in erasing this 'very*; 
which is, I think, justifiable, seeing how frequently this word is interpolated. To 
avoid the baleful name Alexandrine, Abbott, § 501, calls the line a trimeter couplet, 
and thus divides it : < He is | not v^ | ry till : || yet i^ \ his y^ars | he's till.' — ^£d. 



ACT III. sc. v.] AS YOU LIKE IT 209 

There was a pretty redneffe in his lip, 12$ 

A little riper, and more luftie red 

Then that mixt in his cheeke: ^twas iuft the difference 

Betwixt the conftant red, and mingled Damaske. 

There be fome women Silutus, had they markt him 

In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere 130 

To fall in loue with him : but for my part 

I loue him not, nor hate him not : and yet 

Haue more caufe to hate him then to loue him, 

For what had he to doe to chide at me ? 

He faid mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke, 135 

And now I am remembred, fcom'd at me : 

I maruell why I anfwer'd not againe. 

But that^s all one ; omittance is no quittance : 

He write to him a very tanting Letter, 

And thou (halt beare it, wilt thou St/uius? 140 

Sil. Phebe^ with all my heart. 

Phe. He write it ftrait : 
The matter's in my head, and in my heart, 
I will be bitter with him, and paffmg (hort ; 
Groe with me Siluius. Exeunt 145 

133. Haue\ Dyce i, Sta. Qke. / 139. tanHng\ taunting F^. 

have Yiy Rowe et cet. Have much Sta. Letter^ Lettler F,. 

conj. 144. and'\ Om. Cap. 

127. Abbott, § 494, tells iu to slur the extra syllables in < difference.' 

128. Damaske] Steevens : < Constant red' is uniform red. *^ Mingled damask ' 
is the silk of that name, in which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter 
shades of the same colour are exhibited. Knight : We doubt this. The damask 
rose was of a more varied hue than the constant red of other species of rose. 
Wright: Red and white, like the colour of the damask roses. Compare Sonn. 
cxxx, 5 : ' I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in 
her cheeks.' [' Mingled damask ' is of course a colour, and a colour well known, 
but what the colour was, it is doubtful if we can by any means tell at present It 
is even possible that < damask ' may refer to some kind of material, and not to roses. 
Cotgrave tells us distinctly that damask roses are white. At the present day and in 
this country there is no variation, such as Knight speaks of, in the hue of the old- 
fashioned damask rose, other than in the paler hue which accompanies its fading ; 
otherwise its tint of light pink is quite as < constant ' as that of any of its redder sis- 
ters. Until we can gain more information we must rest content with imagining Gany- 
mede's cheek to be of the fairest earthly tint and finest earthly texture. But where 
is the umber ? — Ed.] 

138. omittance is no quittance] Walker {Crit, iii, 64) : A proverb of course. 
Milton, P. L, X, 53, man * soon shall find Forbearance is no quittance ere day end.' 
14 



2IO AS you LIKE IT [act iv. sc. i. 



A6lus Quartus . Scena Prima. 



Enter Rofalindj and Celia^ and laques. 

lag. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted 
with thee. 

Rof They fay you are a melancholly fellow. 

lag. I am fo : I doe loue it better then laughing. 

Rof. Thofe that are in extremity of either, are abho- 
minable fellowes, and betray themfelues to euery mo- 
deme cenfure,worfe then drunkards. 8 

The Forest. Rowe. 6, 7. abhominabie] abominable F^. 

2. me] me be Yi et seq. 

5. I do loue it] MoBERLY : < You are always complaining of melancholy/ says 
Johnson to Boswell (iv, 301), ' and I conclude from those complaints that you are fond 
of it. Do not pretend to deny it ; manifestum habemus furem. Make it an invari- 
able and obligatory law on yourself never to mention your own mental diseases. If 
you are never to speak of them you will think of them but little ; and if you think 
little of them they will molest you rarely.* 

7, 8. modeme . . . drunkards] The drift of Rosalind's whole speech appears to 
be that both classes of men, those who are profound in their melancholy and those who 
are boisterous in their mirth, expose themselves even more openly than drunkards to 
every conunonplace, hackneyed criticism. She had taken down Phebe's conceit by 
asserting that her beauty was no more than a fair average of Nature's ready-made 
goods ; she is now about to do the same to Jaques by saying that he was no more 
interesting in his sentimental melancholy than a common drunkard. But Moberly 
interprets it somewhat differently ; and as his interpretation of the whole comedy, 
with which I cannot altogether agree, is charming and attractive, every word he 
utters in support of it deserves to be well weighed. To Moberly, this encounter 
between Jaques and Rosalind is one of the passages where the great moral lesson of 
cheerfulness is conveyed, a lesson which Shakespeare happened to need in his oWn 
life at that time, and the need whereof he saw in the anxious thought of eminent men 
around him : * Thus,' says Moberly, * Sir H. Sidney writes to his son Sir Philip, " Let 
your first action be the lifting up of your mind to Almighty God by hearty prayer ; . . . . 
then give yoiu-self to be merry ; for you degenerate from your father, if you find not 
yourself most able in wit and body to do anything when you are most merry." ' This 
present speech of Rosalind is one of the happy hits, and is thus paraphrased by 
Moberly {ItUrod. p. 9) : 'And what is this melancholy of which Jaques boasts ? [asks 
Rosalind sarcastically]. Something as bad or worse than the most giddy merriment : 
something that incapacitates him from action as completely and more permanently 
than drunkenness.' Again, his note ad loc. is : < Worse than drunkards. For both 
alike are as incapable of action as drunkards, and their state is more permanent.' 



ACT IV. sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT an 

lag. Why/tis gopd to be fad and fay nothing, 
Rof. Why then 'tis good to be a pofte. lO 

lag. I haue neither the SchoUers melancholy, which 
is emulation: nor the Mufitians, which is fantaflicall ; 
nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers, 
which is ambitious : nor the Lawiers, which is politick : 
nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which 15 

is all thefe : but it is a melancholy of mine owne, com- 
pounded of many fimples, extrafted from many obiefts, 
and indeed the fundrie contemplation of my trauells, in 18 

14. polituk] political Rowe i. titms of F^F^, Rowe i. 

18. fundrie] fundty F^. i8, 19. in which"] which Var. '21. on 

contemplation of my] contempla- which Seymour. 

Here Moberly seems to take * worse * as qualifying the subject ; I think it qualifies 
the verb * betray.' — Ed. 

1 1-20. Maginn : This is printed as prose, but assuredly it is blank verse. The 
alteration of a syllable or two, which in the corrupt state of the text of these plays is 
the slightest of all possible critical licenses, would make it run perfectly smooth. At 
all events, ' emulation ' should be emutcUive^ to make it agree with the other clauses of 
the sentence. The courtier's melancholy is not pride^ nor the soldier's ambition, &c. 
The adjective is used throughout : < fantastical,' < proud,' ' ambitious,' < politic,' < nice.' 
[Maginn thus divides the lines : < Neither the scholar's melaif^oly, which || Is emu- 
lation ; nor the musician's, which is || Fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; || 
Nor the soldier's, || Which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which || Is politic ; nor the 
lady's, which is nice ; || Nor the lover's, which is all these ; but it is || A melancholy 
of mine own, compounded || Of many simples, extracted from many objects || And 
indeed || The sundry contemplation of my travels, || In which my often rumination 
wraps me || In a most humorous sadness.'. [Rather ragged verse, it must be owned. 
I should prefer to call it metric prose, or measurably like the semi-metric prose of 
Walt Whitman at the present day. There would be a lack of harmony in giving 
Jaques a single speech in regular blank verse in a scene where every other speech is 
in prose. — Ed.] 

14. Moberly : The scholar's melancholy springs from envy of other men's supe- 
rior mental powers, which his diligence may be unable to cope with ; the courtier's is 
from pride, which puts him out of sympathy with his kind ; the lady's is from fastid- 
iousness ; the soldier's from disappointed ambition ; the lawyer's from professionally 
assumed or half-real sympathy with his client. [To understand the musician's melan- 
choly, I think we must take ' fantastical ' as referring to love-sick music ; and may we 
not take both < politic ' and < lawyer ' in a somewhat wider sense than that just given ? 
May not ' lawyers ' be lawgivers, and < politic ' denote that which is connected with 
the science pf government? — Ed.] 

15. nice] Steevens : Silly, trifling. Caldecott : Affected, over-curious in trifles. 
Nares: Foolish, trifling. Halliwell: Delicate, affected, efieminate. Dyce: 
Scrupulous, precise, squeamish. Hudson: Fastidious, dainty, or squeamish. Verity: 
Squeamish, super-subtle, finicking. [An object-lesson, to teach the student to make 
his own definitions,— especially where none is required. — Ed.] 



212 AS YOU LIKE IT [activ. sc. i. 

which by often rumination, wraps me in a mod humo- 
rous fadneffe. 20 

Rof. A Traueller : by my faith you haue great rea- 
fon to be fad : I feare you haue fold your owne Lands, 
to fee other mens ; then to haue feene much , and to haue 
nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands. 

laq. Yes, I haue gainM my experience. 25 

Enter Orlando. 

Rof. And your experience makes you fad : I had ra- 
ther haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to 
make me (ad, and to trauaile for it too. 

Orl. Good day, and happineffe, deere Rofcdind. 30 

laq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke 
verfe. 32 

19. by\ Var. *2I, Coll. Sing. Sta. Ktly, 31. laq.] Orl. F,. 

Dyce iii. »iy Ff, Rowe et cet. ^y\ Ff, Cam. h'v^y Rowe + . 

rumination^ rumination Roweet V wi"* Wh. Dyce. be Ttn* Cap. et cet 
seq. and'} Ff, Rowe, Cald. an Pope 

i«] is Steev. '93. et cet. 
25. wy] Om. Rowe, Pope, Han. nte 32. ver/e} verfe. Exit. Ff, Rowe et 

Theob. ii, Warb. Johns. seq. 

29. trauaile} travel F^F^. Scene II. Pope, Han. Warb. 

18-20. in . . . sadnesse] Malone, reading < by often,' omitted the first ' in,' in 
line 18; Steevens, reading < my often,' changed the second <in,' in line 19, to tr, 
adding: < Jaques first informs Rosalind what his melancholy was not ; and naturally 
concluded by telling her what the quality of it tr.* Caldecott, reading * my often,* 
thus paraphrases : It is the diversified consideration or view of my travels, in which 
process my frequent reflection, and continued interest that I take, wraps me in a 
whimsical sadness. Knight, reading my : His melancholy is the contemplation of 
his travels, the rumination upon which wraps him in a most humorous sadness. 
White : * By ' is clearly a corruption, as it leaves * wraps ' without a nominative 
expressed or understood. The point of the speech is that the satirical Jaques finds in 
the contemplation of his travels his cause for melancholy. He means to sneer, more 
suOy at the whole world ; and this he is made to do by the substitution of my for < by,' 
and of a semicolon for a conuna after < travels.' The pleonastic use of ' in ' is quite 
in conformity to the custom of the time. 

19. humorous] Caldecott : In his Apology for Smectymnus^ Milton says of his 
own ear for numbers, that it was < rather nice and humorous in what was tolerable 
than patient to read every drawling versifier.' — ^Warton's Miltonj p. 207. [See 

* humorous.' — I, ii, 265.] 

31. and] That is, an. See Abbott, § loi, if necessary. Wright: In this form 
it occurs where it is little suspected in the Authorised Version of Genesis^ xliv, 30 : 

* Now therefore when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with 
us.' 

31, 32. blanke verse] What are we to understand by this? It is Orlando who 



ACT IV, sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 213 

Rof. Farewell Mounfieur Trauellor : looke you 33 

lifpe,and weare ftrange fuites; difable all the benefits 

has just uttered the only line of blank verse. Jaques, therefore, hears Orlando, even 
if Rosalind does not, or pretends that she does not ; see Grant White's interpretation, 
in the next note. — £d. 

32. Nearly every modem edition follows the Ff in putting Exit at the end of this 
line. Dyce placed it after < gondola ' in line 38, and is followed by Cowden-Clarke, 
Hudson, and the Irving. Dyce {Remarks, p. 63) quotes Rosalind's speech from line 
33 down to her address to Orlando in line 38, and asks : ' Does Rosalind say all this 
to Jaques after he has left the stage /' He then goes on to say, in regard to the Exit 
of the Ff, that * Exits as well as Entrances were very frequently marked much earlier 
than they were really intended to take place ; and nothing can be more evident than 
that here the exit of Jaques ought to follow " gondola." * White (ed. i) : The ques- 
tion has been raised, whether Jaques should go out when he takes leave, or just before 
Rosalind addresses Orlando. It seems plain that in the latter case a charming and 
characteristic incident would be lost. Rosalind is a little vexed with Orlando for not 
keeping tryst. She sees him when he comes in, but purposely does not look at him, 
no woman needs be told why. He speaks, but she, with her little heart thumping at 
her breast all the while, refuses to notice her lover, and pretends to be absorbed in 
Jaques ; and as he retires, driven off by the comidl; scene of sentiment, the approach 
of which he detects, she still ignores the presence of the poor delinquent, and con- 
tinues to talk to Jaques till a curve in the path takes him out of sight ; then turning, 
she seems to see Orlando for the first time, and breaks upon him with, ' Why, how 
now ?' &c. Well might the old printer in Promos and Cassandra say that there are 
some speeches 'which in reading wil seeme hard, and in action appeare plaine.' 
Dyce quotes this note of White's, and adds : 'All this is, no doubt, very ingenious ; 
but I cannot help thinking that it shows little knowledge of stage-business. The 
modem acting-copies of As You Like It do not allow Jaques to take any part in the 
present scene.' White, however, did not lay to heart this criticism and improve his 
* knowledge of stage-business.' In his second edition he says : < Rosalind's speech, 
until she chooses to notice the tardy Orlando, is addressed to the retiring Jaques.' 
[I cannot avoid thinking that Dyce is entirely right. There is something humiliating 
in the idea of Rosalind talking to Jaques's back, and if he walked away at even a 
leisurely pace Rosalind's final words must have been pitched, if he is to hear them, 
almost in the scream of a virago. We must note the effect on Jaques of these final 
thrusts, we must count the wounds, or else Rosalind's victory is small. If Jaques's 
back is turned, his ears are deaf, and the victory is his rather than Rosalind's. At 
the same time that I give in my adhesion to Dyce, I must confess that he does not 
explain Orlando's address to Rosalind, nor her disregard of it It may be that 
he would accept that much of Grant White's interpretation which attributes her 
silence to a punishment for his tardiness, but then one of Dyce's strong points 
IS that the entrances are marked (for stage purposes) many lines in advance. Here 
the entrance is marked, and Orlando speaks, many lines before he is addressed by 
Rosalind.— Ed.] 

34. lispe] See Mercutio's invective against Tybalt. — Rom. ^ Jul, II, iv, 26. 
Wright : See Overbury's Characters ( Works^ p. 58, ed. Fau-holt), where * An Affec- 
tate Traueller ' is described : < He censures all things by countenances, and shrugs, 
and speakes his owne language with shame and lisping.' [Sig. F, ed. 1627. Over- 



214 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. i. 

of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your 35 

natiuitie, and almofl chide God for making you that 
countenance you are ; or I will fcarce thinke you haue 
fwam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando^ where 
haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you 
ferue me fuch another tricke, neuer come in my fight 40 

more. 

OrL My faire Rofalindy I come within an houre of my 
promife, 

Rof. Breake an houres promife in loue? hee that 
will diuide a minute into a thoufand parts, and breake 45 

but a part of the thoufand part of a minute in the affairs 

38. Gundello] Gondallo Rowe. Con- et cet. 
i/ic^/ci Pope. ^<7if</i9/a. [Exit Jaques] Dyce. i^(i, thoufand'\ thousandth Rowe et 

39> 50. and'\ Ff, Rowe, Cald. an Pope seq. 

bury's Characters were published in 1614; after his death.] Moberly quotes a 
passage from The Scholemaster [p. 75, ed. Arber] where Ascham says: 'I know 
diverse, that went out of England, men of innocent life, men of excellent leamyng, 
who returned out of Italic^ not onely with worse manners, but also with lesse learn* 
yng ; neither so willing to line orderly, nor yet so hable [Lat. habilis'\ to speake 
leamedlie, as they were at home, before they went abroad.' But this is only one sen- 
tence where whole paragraphs might be quoted from these closing ten pages of 
Ascham's First booke. His denunciation of the life led by Englishmen in Italy, and 
of their manners when they return, is unmeasured. 'And so,' he says, ' beyng Mules 
and Horses before they went, relumed verie Sw]me and Asses home agayne ' ; and 
farther on, < they should carie at once in one bodie, the belie of a Swyne, the head 
of an Asse, the brayne of a Foxe, and the wombe of wolfe ' ; and that even the 
Italians have a proverb which says: 'Englese Italianato, e vn diabolo incamato.' 
It is from these pages that in the Mer. of Ven. p. 297, 1 quoted Ascham's indig- 
nation at the translations of Italian novels then 'sold in euery shop in London.' 
—Ed.] 

34. disable] That is, undervalue, disparage. See V, iv, 79. 

38. Gundello] Johnson : That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licen- 
tiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their 
morals, and sometimes lost their religion. Mrs Griffith (p. 87) : Venice was then 
the polite goal^ as Paris is now : so that to ' swim in a Gondola ' is as if we should say, 
< ride in a vis-&-vis,' at present [A Mrs Griffith to date is needed to give us a note 
on a < vi8-2i-vis. — Ed.] White (ed. i) : Ladies say that their shoes are < as big as a 
gundalow ' (what lady's shoes are ever otherwise ?), without any notion that they are 
comparing them to the coaches of Venice. But it is so. [For the spelling see < Gun- 
delier.' — 0th, I, i, 138. Walker {^Vers, 218) gives 'gondelay,' from Spenser, F, Q. 

II, c. vi, St. ii ; and * ** gundelet," 1. e, a gondoletta,' from Marston's Ant. &* Afellida, 

III, ii.] 

46. thousand] Thb is merely phonetic spelling, like ' sixt' ' for sixth. — Ed. 



ACT IV, sc. L] AS YOU LIKE IT 215 

of loue, it may be faid of him that Cupid hath clapt 47 

him oth' (houlder, but He warrant him heart hole. 

OrL Pardon me deere Rofalind. 

Rof. Nay, and you be fo tardie, come no more in my $0 

fight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile, 

Orl. Of a Snaile ? 

Rof. I, of a Snaile : for though he comes flowly, hee 
carries his houfe on his head ; a better ioynfture I thinke 
then you make a woman: befides, he brings his deftinie 55 

with him. 

Orl. What's that ? 

Rof. Why homes : w fuch as you are faine to be be- 
holding to your wiues for : but he comes armed in his 
fortune, and preuents the flander of his wife. 60 

48. hearihoU] heart whole ¥^. heart- 58. ^^] Om. Rowe i. 

whole Rowe. 58, 59. behoiding] Ff, Rowe, Cap. 

55. you make"] you can make Han. Cam. Coll. iii, Wh. ii. beholden Pope 

Johns. Steev. Md. Wb. i, Dyce iii, Coll. et cet. 

iii. 59. comes^ come F,Fj. 

47. clapt] It is not easy to decide whether this means a clap by way of friendly 
encouragement, as it is used in Much Ado, I, i, 261 : < He that hits me, let him be 
clapped on the shoulder, and called Adam ' ; and again, Love's Lab. L, V, ii, 107 : 
* With that, all laughM and clapp'd him on the shoulder. Making the bold wag by 
their praises bolder'; and again in Tro, dr* Cress. Ill, iii, 138: 'even already They 
clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast ' ; 
or a clap by way of arrest from a court officer, as in Cym. V, iii, 78 : < fight I will no 
more. But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder.' Wright 
prefers the latter interpretation, as does also Schmidt, whom Rolfe follows, and there 
is colour for the preference in the use of the word ' warrant ' immediately following. 
But, on the whole, the former interpretation seems preferable. — Ed. 

51. of] If necessary, see Abbott, § 170. 

55. you make] Hanmer's change, 'than you can make,' is upheld by White 
(ed. i) on the score that * Rosalind is speaking not of Orlando's acts, but of his abili- 
ties.' To me, however, the change is not only needless, but erroneous. ' You ' does 
not refer to Orlando personally, any more than < your wives,' in line 59, accuses him 
of polygamy. It is the French < on.' I suppose the meaning of the sentence is that 
a snail is better off than a woman because he enjoys all the time the possession of his 
house, whereas a woman cannot possibly poteess her jointiire until she becomes a 
widow, and if she dies before her husband will never have it at all. — Ed. 

59. beholding] The almost universal form, among the dramatists, of the present 
beholden. 

60. fortune] Allen (MS) : That is, come armed in that which it is his fortune to 
come to. 

60. prevents] Anticipates, in its Latin derivative sense. For examples, see 
Schmidt 



2i6 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc. i. 

OrL Vertue is no home-maker : and my Rofalind is 6 1 

vertuous. 

Rof. And I am your Rofalind, 

CeL It pleafes him to call you fo : but he hath a Rofa- 
lind of a better leere then you. 65 

Rof Come,wooe me,wooe mee: for now I am in a 
holy-day humor, and like enough to confent: What 
would you (ay to me now, and I were your verie, verie 
Rofalind} 

Orl. I would kiffe before I fpoke, 70 

Rof Nay, you were better fpeake firft,and when you 
were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take oc- 
cafion to kiffe: verie good Orators when they are out, 
they will fpit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs) 
matter, the cleanlieft fliift is to kiffe. 75 

66. «/, woo€\ me, wooe, F^. 71. Rof.] Orl. F,. 

68. and'\ Yiy Rowe, Cald. an Pope 74. wame\ warrant Anon, {ap, CanL 

et cet. Ed.). 

65. leere] Tollet : That is, of a better feature, complexion, or colour than you. 
Skeat : The Mid. Eng. Ure means the cheek, also the face, complexion, mien, look. 
* A loveli lady of Ure ' = a lady of lovely mien. — P. Plowman, B. i, 3. It was orig- 
inally almost always used in a good sense, and with adjectives expressive of beauty, 
but in Skelton we find it otherwise in two passages : ' Her lothely lere Is nothynge 
clere, But vgly of chere ' =her loathsome look is not at all clear, but ugly of aspect. 
^^Elynour Rummynge, 1. 12; 'Your lothesum lere to loke on.* — 2d Poem against 
Gamesche, 1. 5. Shakespeare has it in two senses: (i) the complexion, aspect [the 
present passage]. Tit. And, IV, ii, 119; (2) a winning look. Merry Wives, I, iii, 
50. At a later period it is generally used in a sinister sense. From Ang. Sax. hledr, 
the cheek ; hence the face, look. The original sense may have been < slope,' from the 
Teut. base hli, to lean. [Does not this refer to the umber with which Ganymede's 
Utot was smirched? — Ed.] 

72. grauel'd] Cotgrave has : ^AssabU : Grauelled ; filled with sand ; also, stucke 
in, or run on, the sand.' Wright : Compare Bacon, Advancement of Learning (ed. 
Wright), i, 7, § 8, p. 57 : ' But when Marcus Fhilosophus came in, Silenus was grav- 
elled and out of countenance.' [See also Richardson's Diet, for several other exam- 
ples of the verb.] 

73. kisse] Steevens : Thus also in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy : * and when 
he [Stratocles] hath pumped his wits dry, can say no more, kissing and colling are 
never out of season.* — [p. 506, ed. 165 1]. 

74. warne] Steevens : If this exclamation (which occurs again in the Qq. of 
Mid. N. Z>.) is not a corruption of < God ward us,' f . e. defend us, it must mean * sum- 
mon us to himself.' So in Rich. Ill : I, iii, 39 : 'And sent to warn them to his royal 
presence.' ScHMiDT interprets it : ' God guard us,' ' God forbid,' which has a mean- 
ing, like Dii avertite omen, but in < God summon us ' here, there seems to be none.— Ed. 



ACT IV. sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 217 

OrL How if the kiffe be denide? 76 

Rof. Then fhe puts you to entreatie, and there begins 
new matter. 

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued 
Miftris ? 80 

Rof. Marrie that (hould you if I were your Miftris, 
or I (hould thinke my honeftie ranker then my wit 

OrL What, of my fuite ? 

Rof. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your 
fuite : 85 

Am not I your Rofalindf 

OrL I take fome ioy to fay you are, becaufe I would 
be talking of her. 

Rof Well, in her perfon, I fay I will not haue you. 

OrL Then in mine owne perfon, I die. 90 

Rof No faith, die by Attorney : the poore world is 
almoft fix thoufand yeeres old, and in all this time there 
was not anie man died in his owne perfon {videlicet) in 
a loue caufe : Troilous had his braines dafti'd out with a 
Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before, 95 

and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would 
haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had tum'd 97 

81-85. In sens. obs. 84, 86. Prose, Pope et seq. 

82. thinke... ranker\ thank... rather 90. dW\ doe F,F^. dye F^. 
Coll. (MS) ii, iii. 94. Troilous] Fj. 

83. of^ out o/QoW. (MS). braims] braine Ff. 

82. thinke . . . ranker] Collier (referring to the MS corrector's change to thank 
.... rather) : This is said in answer to the question of Orlando how he could possi- 
bly be out ? and Rosalind replies that if he were not out, but continued his suit, he 
would be more indebted to her honesty, which allowed him to proceed, than to her 
wit in disconcerting him. The two misprints were easily made, and the restoration is 
exactly to the point White (ed. i) : Strange to say, Collier's reading has found 
some favour. For in the alternative supposed by Rosalind, she would have no hon- 
esty to thank ! and therefore it is that she says that in that case she should think her 
honesty ranker than her wit Dyce (ed. ii) : Mr Collier understands the passage no 
more than his corrector. 

95. club] Wright : Troilus, in the story of his death as told by Dictys Cretensis, 
Dares Phrygius, Tzetzes, and Guido Colonna, was slain by Achilles (' impar congres- 
sus Achilli.' — Vei^. jEn. I, 474), either with sword or spear, and the Grecian club is 
as much an invention of Rosalind's as Leander's cramp. 

96. Leander, he] Those who wish to find other examples of this insertion of the 
pronoun may find them in Abbott, § 243. 



2i8 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc i. 

Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midfomer-night, for 98 

Tgood youth)he went but forth to wafti him in the Hel- 
lefpont, and being taken with the crampe, was drounM, 100 
and the foolifli Chronoclers of that age, found it was 
Hero of Cellos. But thefe are all lies, men haue died 
from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not 
for loue. 104 

98. had^ bad F,. ners Han. Sing. Coll. (MS) ii, iii, KUy, 

99. him'\ Om. Ff, Rowe + . Glo. Wh. ii. 

loi. Chr(mocUrs\chronicler5YL coro- loi. it was] it Yian, 

102. Ceftos] Seftos Ft 

loi. Chronoclers] Capell : If to make his author more witty than there is rea- 
son to think he designed to be, was an editor's business, he of Oxford [f. e. Hanmer, 
see Text. Notes] may seem to have demean'd himself rightly, .... but the judicious 

will hardly allow this ' Chroniclers ' could never be a mistake, nor * was ' a meer 

insertion of printers ; coroners, and the phrase recommended, being too well known 
to them to suspect an alteration of either for what was certainly not so familiar. It 
follows then, if the above observation be just, that they were true to their copy io this 
place ; and the Poet will stand acquitted for writing so, if it be consider'd that too 
much wit, or wit too much pointed, is not a beauty in comedy ; especially in such 
comedy as this, which is simple and of the pastoral kind. M. Mason : I am sur- 
prised that Hanmer's just and ingenious amendment should not be adopted as soon as 

suggested * Found ' is the legal term on such occasions. . Edwards refers to 

Ifam. V, i, 5 : < The crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.' Calds- 
COTT : In the language of a coroner^s jtuy, the chroniclers of that age, who record 
and transmit facts to itosieriiy, found (t. e. stated) it to be Hero. Knight: We are 
unwilling to alter the text, but there can be little doubt that Hanmer*s change, per- 
haps crottmers, gives the true word. The technical use ot * found ' decides this. We 
must accept * chroniclers ' in the sense of coroners. White (ed. i) denounces Han- 
mer's change on the same ground as Capell, and as earnestly : < If we can at will 
reduce a perfectly appropriate and uncorrupted word of ten letters to one of eight, 
and strike out such marked letters as h, /, and e, we may re-write Shakespeare at our 
pleasure.' [And yet after these brave words Grant White in his second edition fol- 
lows Hanmer. The reason is, I think, that he printed from the Globe Edition, where 
the Cambridge Editors in a temporary aberration of mind deserted the sound text of 
the Cambridge Edition. The printed text before our eyes always exercises a strong 
influence, and from this influence, in the present case, that excellent editor Grant 
White did not free himself. — Ed.] Halliwell : " Found * here merely mt2ja&fou$ui 
out, discovered, stated. .... The alteration made by Hanmer will not even make good 
sense, for though the coroner's jiuy might find a verdict of * drowning,' they could 
not have ' found it was Hero of Sestos.' The passage in Hamlet is written in inten- 
tional error, and cannot fairly be appealed to in the present discussion. Dyce (ed. 
iii) quotes Lettsom: *The word "found" makes for coroners; but the plural num- 
ber and the phrase " of that age " tell the other way.' Wright : I h&ve left the old 
reading, for there would be only one coroner, and the * chroniclers ' might be consid- 
ered to be the jurymen. 



ACT IV. sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 219 

OrL I would not haue my right Rofalind of this mind, 105 
for I proteft her frowne might kill me, 

Rof. By this hand; it will not kill a flie : but come, 
now I will be your RofcUind in a more comming-on dif- 
pofition : and aske me what you will, I will grant it. 

OrL Then loue me Rofalind. 1 10 

Rof. Yes faith will I,fridaies and (aterdaies,and all. 

OrL And wilt thou haue me? 

Rof. I, and twentie fuch. 

OrL What laieft thou ? 

Rof Are you not good ? 115 

OrL I hope fo. 

Rofalind. Why then, can one defire too much of a 
good thing : Come filler, you fhall be the Prieft, and 
marrie vs : giue me your hand Orlando : What doe you 
fay filler/ 120 

OrL Pray thee marrie vs. 

CeL I cannot fay the words. 
Rof You muft begin, will you Orlando. 

CeL Goe too ; wil you Orlando^ haue to wife this Ro- 
falindf 125 

OrL I will 

Rof I, but when? 

OrL Why now, as fad as fhe can marrie vs. 

Rof Then you muft fay, I take thee Rofalind for 
wife. 1 30 

OrL I take thee Rofalind for wife. 

109. aske mi\ ask Rowe. 129. Rof.] Cel. Anon. (ap. Canu 

127. /] Om. FjF^, Rowe i. Ed.). 

107. kill a flie] Lady Martin (p. 427) : This rejoinder should, I think, be given 
with a marked change of intonation, sufficient to indicate that, notwithstanding all 
the wild raillery of her former speech, there is in herself a vein of tenderness that 
would make it impossible for her to inflict pain deliberately. We should be made to 
feel the woman just for the moment, — before she passes on to her next words, which, 
playful as they are, lead her on unawares to what I believe was regarded by her as a 
very real climax to this sportive wooing. 

1 26-131. I will ... for wife] Lady Martin (p. 428) : It is not merely in pastime, 
I feel assured, that Rosalind has been made by Shakespeare to put these words into 
Orlando's mouth. This is for her a marriage, though no priestly formality goes with 
it ; and it seems to me that the actress must show this by a certain tender earnestness 
of look and voice, as she replies, < I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband.' I could 



220 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. L 

Rof. I might aske you for your Commiflion, 132 

But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband : there's a 
girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans 
thought runs before her aftions. 135 

Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd. 

Rof. Now tell me how long you would haue her, af- 
ter you haue poffeft her ? 

OrL For euer, and a day. 

Rof. Say a day, without the euer: no, no OrlandoyVatn 140 
are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed: 
Maides are May when they are maides,but the sky chan- 
ges when they are wiues : I will bee more iealous of 
thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more 144 

132-135. Prose, Pope et seq. Var. *2I. Thus Lloyd («/. Cam. 

133. Bui /] Ff, Rowe + . but, /Cap. Ed.). 
Cam. Wh. ii. bul — /Mai. et cet. 137. haue] lave Han. 

lhere''s\ There Farmer, Steev. '95, 141. Ihey wed] IheyWe wed Daniel. 

never speak these words without a trembling of the voice, and the involuntary rushing 
of happy tears to the eyes, which made it necessary for me to turn my head away 
from Orlando. But, for fear of discovery, this momentary emotion had to be over- 
come and turned off by carrying his thoughts into a different channel. Still, Rosa- 
lind's gravity of look and intonation will not have quite passed away — for has she not 
taken the most solemn step a woman can take ? — as she continues : < Now tell me how 
long,' &c. 

133, 134. there's . . . goes] Collier : Alluding to her anticipating what Celia 
ought to have said: There's a girl who goes faster than the priest Wright: 
Farmer's change is unnecessary, for the relative is only omitted. [For omission of 
the relative, see Abbott, § 244.] 

140, &c. Fletcher (p. 220) : Rosalind's heart is now at leisure to gratify itself 
with another of those conscious contrasts between the imputed capriciousness of her 
sex and the steady affectionateness of her own character. We have heard already 
her description of feminine weakness and perverseness as exhibited in the season of 
courtship ; she now gives us a still more lively one of the same failings as they show 
themselves after marriage. 

144. Barbary cocke-pidgeon] Fulton [Book of Pigeons^ p. 7) : Shakespeare 
was evidently a close observer, if not an actual student, of pigeons. It is difBcult to 
avoid the conclusion that he was at heart, if not in practice, a fancier, his intimate 
knowledge of them comes out in so many different ways. Thus he alludes to the 
mode in which they feed their young [in I. ii, 90, supra ; and again in the present 
line we may find a proof], collateral, if not strictly historical, of the great antiquity of 
the Barb. Such allusions as these, it is true, only prove a general acquaintance with 
the birds ; but when the great poet makes Hamlet say : < But I am pigeon-livered, and 
lack gall To make oppression bitter,' he shows a knowledge, however acquired, of the 
singular physiological fact that the pigeon, like the horse, has no gall-bladder. Again, 
one of his inimitable comparisons is, <As patient as a female dove, When that her 



ACT IV, sc. i.] AS you LIKE IT 221 

clamorous then a Parrat againft raine, more new-fang- 145 
led then an ape, more giddy in my defires, then a mon- 
key : I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Foun- 147 

golden couplets are disclosed.' Now pigeons, unlike poultry, will readily leave their eggs 
before hatching, if disturbed ; but very rarely when once the beautiful little < golden ' 
young claim their care ; then, as the same close observer elsewhere says, even * doves 
will peck in safeguard of their brood.* (P. 225) There can be very little doubt that this 
pigeon [the Barb] did, as the name implies, come to us originally from the north of 
Africa, and was first known as the Barbary pigeon. [I have searched for any inti- 
mation that the Barb is of a pre-eminently jealous disposition, but have found none. 
Nor is any needed. < Barbary ' of itself implies Oriental watchfulness and jealousy. 
Is there left in the world any human trade, profession, or pursuit wherein Shakespeare 
is not claimed as a fellow-craftsman ? Did any of us ever think that we should live 
to see him hailed as a * pigeon-fancier ' ? — Ed.] 

145, 146. new-fangled] Skeat : Fond of what is new, novel. The old sense is 
' fond of what is new ' ; see Lovers Lab. L. I, i, 106 [and the present passage], and 
in Palsgrave. The final -d is a late addition to the word, due to a loss of a sense of 
the old force of -U (see below) ; the Mid. Eng. form is newef angel (4 syllables), fond 
of novelty, Chaucer, C. T. 10932. So also Gower, C. A. ii, 273 : * But euery newe 
loue quemeth To him, that newef angel is ' » but every new love pleases him who is 
fond of what is new. Compounded of newe^ new ; Bnd,f angel, ready to seize, snatch- 
ing at, not found in Ang. Sax., but formed with perfect regularity from the basey^if^-, 
to take (occurring in Ang. Sax. fang-en, pp. oi fon, contracted form ol fangan, to 
take), with the suffix -el ( =>■ Ang. Sax. -<>/), used to form adjectives descriptive of an 
agent. This suffix is preserved in modem Eng. 7tntt-ol'=^ont who knows, sarcastically 
used to mean an idiot ; cf. A. S. sprec-ol, fond of talking, talkative ; wac-ol, vigrilant. 
So also y^M^^/— fond of taking, readily adopting, and newfangled ion^ of taking 
up what is new ; whence new-fangle-d, by later addition of d. The suffix -ol, by the 
usual interchange of / and r, is nothing but another form of the familiar suffix -er, 
expressive of the agent. Thus newf angle '^^ new fang-er. 

147. Diana] M alone conjectured that Shakespeare must have had in mind some 
well-known conduit, and Whalley discovered what has been generally accepted as 
the allusion in Stowe's Survey, where [p. 484, ed. 161 8], in giving a history of the 
* Elianor Cross,* or * the great Crosse in West Cheape,* Stowe says : * in the yeer next 
following [t. e. 1596] was then set vp a curious wrought Tabernacle of gray Marble, 
and in the same an Alablaster Image of Diana, and water conuayed from the Thames, 
prilling from her naked brest for a time, but now decayed.' ' Statues,' continues 
Whalley, ' and particularly that of Diana, with water conveyed through them to give 
them the appearance of weeping figures, were anciently a frequent ornament of foun- 
tains. So in The City Match, III, iii : " Now could I cry like any image in a foun- 
tain, which Runs lamentations." — [p. 263, ed. Dodsley ; first printed 1639]. Again, 
in Rosamond's Epistle to Henry II, by Drayton : " Here in the garden, vrrought by 
curious hands, Naked Diana in the fountain stands." ' — [p. 80, ed. 1748]. Halli- 
WELL (p. 69) : It should be remembered that the image of a fountain-fig^ure weeping 
was an exceedingly conmion one, and that Diana was a favorite subject with the 
sculptors for such an object. Wright : If Shakespeare had this image of Diana 
[mentioned by Stowe] in his mind, his recollection of it was not strictly accurate. 
[It seems to me most unlikely that there is any reference here to the Diana on the 



222 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc. i. 

taine,& I wil do that when you are difpos'd to be merry: 148 

I will laugh like a Hyen,and that when thou art incUn'd 

to fleepe. 1 50 

Orl. But will my Rofalind doe fo / 

Rof, By my life, fhe will doe as I doe. 

OrL O but fhe is wife. 

Ros. Or elfe fhee could not haue the wit to doe this : 
the wifer, the waywarder : make the doores vpon a wo- 155 
mans wit, and it will out at the cafement : fhut that, and 
'twill out at the key-hole : ftop that, 'twill flie with the 
fmoake out at the chimney. 

OrL A man that had a wife with fuch a wit, he might 
fay, wit whether wil't ? 1 60 

149. thou art"] you are Rowe ii + . 157. ^ twill Jlie] it will fly e F^, Rowe + , 

\^o. fleepe\ weep Theob. conj. Warb. Steev. '85. 
Coll. iii. 160. whether\ whither Rowe. 

1 55. doores\ doors fast Rowe ii + , Cap. tuU^t ] F,. wilt F^F^ et seq. 

Quincy (MS). 

Eleanor Cross. And I think Malone in his secret heart thought so too. In his 
Second Appendix and in his own edition he was inclined to claim the credit of dis- 
covering the allusion, but he afterwards silently resigned it to Whalley. For aught 
we can tell, this < prilling ' Diana may not have been a symbol of sorrow ; it was evi- 
dently an excrescence, and had no connection with the other Biblical figures around 
the Cross. See Appendix, * Date of Composition.* — Ed.] 

149. Hyen] Kenrick (p. 69) could discover no * propriety in this allusion ' ; be 
knew of ' no animal in nature possessed of the streperous part of risibility ' vigorous 
enough * to prevent a drowsy man's going to sleep,' * except man.' Wherefore he 
proposes a change, and, like a true-bom Briton, offers * to lay a good bet, if it could be 
determined,' that Shakespeare wrote * " laugh like a Hyad^ * To be sure, * a Hyad * 
is not a man, but a womatty and to < laugh ' must be interpreted to cry. But apart 
from these trifles the simile is assured, because the Hyads < wept so vehemently ' that 
they were translated as constellations to the sky. Barclay, in his vindication of 
Johnson from Kenrick's attack, proposed (p. 49), as a sarcastic jest, that the text be : 
* laugh like a Hoyden, or Hydetiy as he had seen it spelt. Steevens : The bark of 
the hyena was anciently supposed to resemble a loud laugh. So in Webster's Duchess 
of Malfy^ 1623: *Methinks I see her laughing. Excellent hyena!' — [II, v, p. 223, 
ed. Dyce]. 

150. sleepe] Johnson: I know not why we should read to weep [as in War- 
burton's text]. I believe most men would be more angry to have their sleep hindered 
than their ^ny interrupted. [Theobald's conjecture, weep is to be found in Nichols's 
niust. ii, 331.] 

155. make the doores] Steevens: This is an expression used in several mid- 
land coimties, instead oi bar the doors. So in Com. of Err. Ill, i, 93: *The doors 
are made against you.' 

160. wit whether wil't] Johnson : This must be some allusion to a story well 



\MjtLt 



ACT IV, sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 223 

Rof. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you 161 
met your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed. 

OrL And what wit could wit haue,to excufe that? 

Rofa. Marry to fay, fhe came to feeke you there : you 
fhall neuer take her without her anfwer,vnlefle you take 165 
her without her tongue : 6 that woman that cannot 
make her fault her hufbands occafion,let her neuer nurfe 
her childe her felfe, for fhe will breed it like a foole. 168 

167. occafion^ accusation Han. Sing. \(A, Jke wUL.M like a] sh^U,,M a 

Ktly. accusing Coll. (MS) ii, iii. Cap. conj. 

known at that time, though now perhaps irretrievable. Steevens: This was an 
exclamation much in use when any one was either talking nonsense or usurping a 
greater share in conversation than justly belonged to him. So in Decker's SaHrO' 
nmstixy 1 602 : * My sweet twV, whither wUt thou f my delicate poetical fury,* &c. [p. 
166, ed. Hawkins]. Again, in Heywood^ s lioyaJ ITing : * Captain. I since came to 
purchase that Which all the wealth you have will never win you. Bonville. And 
what's that, I pray ? Capt. Wit. Is the word strange to you ? Wit. Bon. Whither 
wilt thou? Capt. True; Wit will to many ere it come to you' [I, i, p. 18, ed. Sh. 
Soc. Steevens quoted, of the above, only the phrases containing the proverb. But I 
think the Captain's answer throws some light on the obscure meaning of the phrase ; it 
seems as though it were equivalent to saying : * Wit, whither wilt thou go ? Thou art 
clearly leaving the present company.' Halliwell adds several other authorities for 
the use of the phrase, to which more could be added without increasing our know- 
ledge of the meaning. Malone believed the phrase to be the first words of an old 
madrigal. See I, ii, 55. — Ed.] 

165. answer] Tyrwhitt : See Chaucer, Marchaundes Tale [line 1020, ed. Mor- 
ris, where Proserpine assures Pluto that May shall have an answer ready to excuse 
any escapade ;] * Now by my modres Ceres soule I swere. That I schal yive hir suffi- 
saunt answere. And alle wommen after for hir sake ; That though thay be in any gult 
i-take. With face bold thay schul hemself excuse. And here hem doun that wolde hem 
accuse. For lak of answer, noon of hem schal dyen. Al had a man seyn a thing 
with bothe his yen, Yit schul we wymmen visage it hardily. And wepe, and swere, 
and chide subtilly. So that ye men schul ben as lewed as gees.' 

166. 6] What rule, if any, guided the compositor in the use of this circumflexed d 
it seems almost impossible to discover. Perhaps, as it does not beg^in a sentence, the 
lower case seemed too insignificant without some distinction, or perhaps it was that, 
unlike Othello, its demerits could not speak unbonneted. Walker {Crit. i, 104) says 
that * O * in the forms 0^ my truths o^ my life^ &c. is fi^quently expressed by 6.* As 
we see here, in the present instance, the same type is used in the mere exclamation. 
It is, however, purely a matter of typography, and very remotely, if at all, connected 
with Shakespeare. — Ed. 

167. occasion] Johnson: That is, represent her fault as occasioned by her hus- 
band. Capell : That cannot make her husband the cause of it Caldecott : That 
is, an act done upon his occasions, in prosecution of his concerns. Staunton: 
If any deviation is required, we might perhaps, and without departing far &om the 
text, read, * her husband's confusion.^ Keightley : I find I have followed Hanmer, 



/ 



224 AS voir LIKE IT [act iv, sc. i. 

Orl. For thefe two houres Rofalinde^\ wil leaue thee. 

Rof. AlaSjdeere loue,I cannot lacke thee two houres. 170 

OrL I muft attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock 
I will be with thee againe. 

Rof. I, goe your waies, goe your waies : I knew what 
you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I 
thought no leffe : that flattering tongue of yours wonne 175 
me : 'tis but one caft away, and fo come death : two o' 
clocke is your howre. 

OrL I, fweet Rofalind. 

Rof. By my troth, and in good eameft, and fo God 
mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dange- 180 
rous, if you breake one iot of your promife,or come one 
minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the mod 
patheticall breake-promife, and the moft hollow louer, 183 

176. <?»] £?*/>!' Rowe + . (fthe?i\^y, \%Z' patheticall'\ atheistical Waib. 

'85. Jesuitical Grey. 

but doubt if I was justified in so doing. Wright : That is, an occasion against her 
husband ; an opportunity for taking advantage of him. 

168. In Kemble's Acting Copy Rosalind here sings the song from Lcv^s Labour 
Lost : * When daisies pied,' &c. 

• 170. Fletcher (p. 221) : How deliciously after all this acted ley'ity and mischiev* 
ousness, comes immediately this fond exclamation ! 

171, 176. two a . . . two o'] Let us note this variation in spelling, a compositor's 
mere vagary, within half a dozen lines, and let our souls be instructed. — Ed. 

176. come death] It is not impossible that there is here just an allusion to that 
popular song of Anne BuUen's : ' Death, rock me asleep. Bring me to quiet rest,' 
&c. It sounds to me like some quotation or allusion, whose popularity excuses, or at 
least lightens, the charming exaggeration. — Ed. 

177. your howre] Lady Martin (p. 429): This is to be *full of tears;' and 
when she has put a pang into her lover's heart by this semblance of reproachful grief, 
she suddenly floods it with delight by turning to him her face radiant with smiles, 
and saying, * Two o'clock's yoiu- hour !' This is to be * full of smiles,' and the charm 
so works upon him that we see he has lost the consciousness that it is the boy Gany- 
mede, and not his own Rosalind, that is before him, as he answers, *Ay, sweet Rosa- 
lind.' And she, too, in her parting adjuration to him, comes nearer than she has ever 
done before to letting him see what is in her heart. 

183. patheticall] Heath : The meaning is. That of all break -promises he best 
counterfeits a real passion. I suppose the old salvo of faithless lovers : * perjuria ridet 
amantum,' maintained its ground even in Shakespeare's time. Talbot : We now use 
pitiful in a like sense. Whiter (p. 57) : * Pathetical,' in its first sense, means yW/ 
of passion and sentiment. In a ludicrous sense, a < pathetical break -promise ' is a 
whining, canting, promise-breaking swain. Shakespeare, perhaps, caught this word 
from Lodge's Novell where Phoebe's indifference to Montanus is described : *■ But she, 




ACT IV, sc. i.] AS VOLT LIKE IT 225 

and the moft vnworthy of her you call Rofalindey that 
may bee chofen out of the groffe band of the vnfaith- 185 
full : therefore beware my cenfure, and keep your pro- 
mife. 

OrL With no leffe religion, then if thou wert indeed 
my Rofalind : fo adieu. 

Rof. Well, Time is the olde luftice that examines all 190 
fuch offenders, and let time try : adieu. Exit. 

Cel. You haue fimply mifusM our fexe in your loue- 
prate : we muft haue your doublet and hofe pluckt ouer 
your head, and fhew the world what the bird hath done 
to her owne neaft. 19S 

Rof. O coz, coz, coz : my pretty little coz, that thou 
didft know how many fathome deepe I am in loue : but 
it cannot bee founded : my affeftion hath an vnknowne 
bottome,like the Bay of Portugall. 199 

191. try\ try you Coll. (MS). 191. Scene III. Pope, Han. Warb. 

measuring all his passions with a coy disdaine, and triumphing in the poore shep- 
heard's patheticall humours.' &c. Wright: Cotgrave explains *Pathetique' aa 
Pathetically passionate ; persuasiue, afTection-moving. Allen (MS) : Rosalind 
merely misplaces the epithet (by a kind of hypallage) ; ' pathetical ' properly belongs 
to < lover/ as if she had said : ' I will think you the most passionate — not lever as now 
—but break -promise.' 

183. breake -promise] * At lovers' perjuries They say Jove laughs.' — Rom, 6* 
Jul. II, ii, 93. 

190. olde lustice] Steevens : So in Tro. 6* Cress, IV, v, 225 : * that old com- 
mon arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.' 

192. misus'd] MoBERLY: Completely libelled our sex. Wright: That is, 
abused. On the other hand, abuse in Shakespeare's time was equivalent to the mod- 
em 'misuse.' 

195. neast] Steevens: So in Lodge's Rosalynde : <I pray (quoth Aliena) if 
your robes were off, what mettal are you made of that you are so satjrrical against 
women? is it not a foule bird that defiles his own nest?' 

199. Portugall] Wright: In a letter to the Lord Treasurer and Lord High 

Admiral, Ralegh gives an accotmt of the capture of a ship of Bayonne by his man 

Captain Floyer in * the bay of Portugal ' (Edwards, Life of Ralegh, ii, 56). This is 

the only instance in which I have met with the phrase, which is not recognised, so far 

as I am aware, in maps and treatises on geography. It is, however, I am informed, 

still used by sailors to denote that portion of the sea off the coast of Portugal from 

Oporto to the headland of Cintra. The water there is excessively deep, and within a 

distance of forty miles from the shore it attains a depth of upwards of 1400 fathoms, 

which in Shakespeare's time would be practically unfathomable. Neil : Perhaps this 

simile ought to be taken as a time-mark of the production of the play. The history 

of Portugal engaged a good deal of attention between 1578 and 1602. On the 4th 
IS 



226 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc l 

CeL Or rather bottomlefle, that as &fl as you poure 200 
afie£tion in, in runs out 

Rof, No, that fame wicked Baftard of VenuSy that was 
begot of thought, conceiuM of fpleene, and borne of 
madnelTe, that blinde rafcally boy, that abufes euery 
ones eyes,becaufe his owne are out, let him bee iudge, 205 
how deepe I am in loue ; ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be 
out of the fight of Orlando : lie goe finde a (hadow, and 
figh till he come. 

Cel. And lie fleepe. Exeunt 20() 

201. m, m] in, it F, et seq. 207. Orlando] Orland F,. Orlanda F^. 

J06. iU teU'\ I tell Cam. Edd. conj. 209. lie] Pit go Ktly. 

of August, 1578) the destructive battle of Alcazar, on which George Peele composed 
a play published in 1594, was fought, and Don Sebastian, the king, was lost 00 the 

field In 1589, before the public exultation at the defeat of the Spanish Armada 

had subsided, a band of adventurers, 21,000 in 180 vessels, engaged in an expedition 
into Portugal, under the command of Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris, in which 
the Earl of Essex also had a share. Instead of returning with the bays of victory, 
1 1,000 persons perished ; of the 1 100 gentlemen volunteers, only 350 returned to their 
native country. They were embayed in its [sic] unknown bottom. In Der Bestrafte 
Brudermcrdf founded, it is believed, about 1598, on an early draught of Shakespeare's 
Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark suggests ironically to his uncle-£EUher, < Send me off 
to Portugal, so that I may never come back again^ In 1602 there appeared at Lon- 
don The true History of the late and lamentable Adventures of Don Sebastian, King 
of Portugal, on which Massinger founded his play. Believe as you List, a drama only 
recently discovered and printed, whose title is a sort of echo of the play before us. 
A Portingal Voyage is noticed also as a memorable thing in Webster's Northward- 
Ho! published in 1607, but acted some time before that date. 

203. thought] This is melancholy, according to Steevens, Malone, Caldecott, and 
Dyce. It is also moody reflection, according to Halliwell. Or with Schmidt we can 
take it as applied to love, * a passion bred and nourished in the mind.' It is hardly 
to be taken as care, anxiety, the sense in which Hamlet uses it m * sicklied o'er with 
the pale cast of thought,' or as in < take no thought of the morrow.' — ^£d. 

203. spleene] Schmidt : That is, caprice ; a disposition acting by fits and starts. 
Wright : A sudden impulse of passion, whether of love or hatred. 

206. ile tell thee] Dyce (ed, iii) : « Qu, " I tell thee" ? This blundei, if it be 
one, is not uncommon.'^-L£TTSOM. It is not a blunder. [See Text Notes, where 
Lettsom is anticipated.] 

207. shadow] Steevens : So in Afacb. IV, iii, i : < Let us seek out some desolate 
shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty.' 



K. 



ACT IV, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 23/ 



Scena Secunda. 



Enter laques and Lards ^ Forrejlers. 

lag. Which is he that killed the Deare ? 

Lord, Sir, it was I, 

lag. Let's prefent him to the Duke like a Romane 
Conquerour, and it would doe well to fet the Deares 5 

horns vpon his head, for a branch of viflory ; haue you 
no fong Forrefter for this purpofe ? 

Lord. Yes Sir, 

lag. Sing it : 'tis no matter how it bee in tune^ fo it 
make noyfe enough. lo 

Muficke, Song. 
What/hall he haue that kild the Deare ? 
His Leather skiny and homes to weare : 
Then Jing him honuy the rejljhall beare this burthen ; 14 

Scene IV. Pope, Han. Warb. Johns. 8. Lord.] For. Rowc + , Cam. 2. F, 

Scene continued, Theob. Cap. 2 Lord. Mai. 

3. Lord.] I. F. Cap. I Lord. Mai. 14. For Text. Notes, see p. 231. 
A Lord. Cam. 

1. Johnson : This noisy scene was introduced to Bll up an interval which is to rep- 
resent two hours. [See note on Rosalind's first speech in next Scene.] Gervinus 
(p. 388) : This is characteristic of idle rural life, where nothing of more importance 
happens than a slaughtered deer and a song about it. [Gervinus presumes also to 
call this scene * a stop-gap.' It is all very well for Dr Johnson to say that this scene 
is merely to fill up an interval : from him, we accept all notes and rate them as they 
deserve, but the learned German should have remembered that < That in the captain's 
but a cholerick word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.' — Ed.] 

2. Flower {Memorial Theatre Editim) : On the occasion of the first representa- 
tion of As YoM Like It in the Memorial Theatre, April 3Cth, 1879, a fallow deer was 
carried on the stage by the foresters [in this scene] which had been that morning shot 
by H. S. Lucy, Esq., of Charlecote Park, out of the herd descended firom that upoo 
which Shakespeare is credited with having made a raid in his youth. The deer is 
now stuffed, and carried on whenever the play is acted in Stratford. 

4-7. Neil: Sir Thomas Elyot, in 77n Govemowr^ I53if Mys, regarding the hmit- 
ing of red deer and fallow : ' To them which in this huntynge do showe moste prowess 
and actyvyty, a garlande or some other lyke token to be given in sign of victory, and 
with a joyful manner to be broughte in the presence of h3rm that is chiefe of the com- 
pany there, to receive condigne prayse for their good endeavour.' — Bk. I, chap, xriii. 

I2y 13. M ALONE: Shakespeare seems to have formed this song on a hint afibrded 



228 AS YOU LIKE IT [act tv, sc. u. 

[the rest shall beare this burthen] 
by Lodge's Rosalynde : * What newes, forrester ? hast thou wounded some deere, and 
lost him in the fall ? Care not, man, for so small a losse ; thy fees was but the skinne, 
the shoulder, and the horns.' 

14. In the arrangement of this Song, Rowe and Pope followed the Folio, and 
their < sagacity ' in so doing was sarcastically pronounced by Theobald * admirable.' 
* One would expect,' he continues, in a tone which was intended to be very bitter, 
' when they were Poets, they would at least have taken care of the Rhymes, and not 
foisted in what has Nothing to answer it. Now where is the Rhyme to ** the rest 
shall bear this Burthen " ? Or, to ask another Question, where is the sense of it ? 
Does the Poet mean that He, that kill'd the Deer, shall be sung home, and the Rest 
shall bear the Deer on their Backs ? This is laying a Burthen on the Poet, which 
We must help him to throw off. In short, the Mystery of the Whole is, that a Mar« 
ginal Note is wisely thrust into the Text ; the Song being design'd to be sung by a 
single Voice, and the Stanza's to close with a Burthen to be sung by the whole Com- 
pany.' And so Theobald printed it < The rest shall bear this burthen ' was placed 
as a stage-direction in the margin ; and then to show that he too was a Poet he thus 
patched and pieced out the lines : < Then sing him home : take thou no scorn || To 
wear the horn, the horn, the horn.' Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson followed him, 
except that Hanmer, in line 18, read : *And thy own father bore it.' Johnson re- 
printed Theobald's note ' as a specimen,' he said, * of Mr Theobald's jocularity, and 
of the eloquence with which he recommends his emendations ;' but Johnson adopted 
Theobald's text nevertheless. Capell remodelled the whole Song thus, wherein < I. 
V.' and < 2. V.' stand for First and Second Voice respectively, and < both ' means both 
voices : 

1 . V. What shall he have, that kUVd the deer f 

2. V. His leather skin, and horns to wear. 
I. V. Then sing him home .^ — 

both. 

Take thou no scorn 
to wear the horn, the lusty horn 
it was a crest ere thou wast bom .•— 

1. V. Thy father's father wore it; 

2. V. And thy father bore it .•— 

cho. 
The hem, the horn, the lusty horn, 
is not a thing to laugh to scorn. 

Capell suggested that if line 18 * should be perfected ' we might read : <Ay and thy 
father,* &c., or *Ay and his father bore it,' * meaning his father's father's father ; which 
makes the satire the keener, by extending the blot to another generation.' < Cho.' 
means the whole band of foresters, ' Jaques and all.' However much Steevens might 
laitgh at Capell and his crabbed English, and Dr Johnson say of him, * Sir, if he had 
come to me, I'd have endowed his purposes with words,' there can be no doubt that 
Capell's text had deservedly great influence with both of these two editors in their 
Variorum editions. (Indeed, it is scarcely too much to say that to Theobald and to Ca- 
pell, more than to any other two editors, is due the largest share of the purity of Shake- 
speare's text to-day.) Accordingly, in the Variorum of 1773 the lines of the Song were 
numbered I and 2, as Capell had numbered them, but the imitation was not carried so 



ACT IV, sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 229 

[the rest shall beare this burthen] 
far as to add I. V. or 2. V., and < The rest shall bear this burthen ' was retained in the 
margin, whereas, as we have seen, Capell omitted it altogether. In the next Vario« 
rmn, 1778, Capell's reading was silently adopted in line 15 : * To wear the horn, the 
lusty horn/ This, however, was rejected by Malone in 1790, and the text of the 
Folio substantially retained, except that *■ The rest,* &c. was inserted as a stage-direc- 
tion, I. and 2. as given by Capell were adopted, and before the last two lines was pre- 
fixed *AIV This arrangement Steevens followed in his own edition of 1793 ; and Bos- 
well also in Malone's Varionmi of 182 1. In the latter edition Boswell has the follow- 
ing : * In Flayford's Musical Companion^ 1673, where this is to be fotmd set to music, 
the words *' Then sing him home " are omitted. From this we may suppose that they 
were not then supposed to form any part of the song itself, but spoken by one of the 
persons as a direction to the rest to commence the chorus. It should be observed, 
that in the old copy the words in question, and those which the modem editors have 
regarded as a stage-direction, are given as one line.' Knight, the next critical editor 
(Caldecott confessedly followed the Folio), omitted this line (line 14) altogether, lines 
12 and 17 were numbered i, and lines 13 and 18 were numbered 2, and to line 19 
was prefixed 'All.' Knight's note is as follows : ' The music to this " song " ' [which 
is here reprinted from Knight at the end of this note] ' is from a curious and very rare 
work, entitled CcUch that Catch can ; or a Choice Collection of Catches, Rounds, 6f*c,, 
collected and published by John Hilton, Batch, in Musicke, 1 652; and is there called 
a catch, though, as in the case of many other compositions of the kind so denomi- 
nated, it is a round, having no catch or play upon the words, to give it any claim to 
the fonner designation. It is written for four bases, but by transposition for other 
voices would be rather improved than damaged. John Hilton, one of the best and 
most active composers of his day, was organist of St Margaret's, Westminster. His 
name is affixed to one of the madrigals in The Triumphs of Oriana, 1601, pre- 
viously to which he was admitted, by the University of Cambridge, as a Bachelor in 
Music. Hence he was of Shakespeare's time, and it is as reasonable to presume as 
agreeable to believe that a piece of vocal harmony so good and so pleasing, its age 
considered, formed a part of one of the most delightful of the great poet's dramas. 
In Hilton's round the brief line, ** Then sing him home," is rejected. The omission 
was unavoidable in a round for four voices, because in a composition of such limit, 
and so arranged, it was necessary to give one couplet, and neither more nor less, to 
each part But it is doubtful whether that line really forms part of the original text, 
[where it is] printed as one line without any variation of type. Is the whole of the 
line a stage-direction ? " Then sing him home " may be a direction for a stage pro- 
cession. Mr Oliphant, in his useful and entertaining Afusa Madrigalesca, 1837, 
doubts whether the John Hilton, the author of the Oriana madrigal, could have 
been the same that subsequently published Catch that Catch can, as well as another 
work which he names. This is a question into which we shall not enter, our only 
object being to g^ive such music, as part of Shakespeare's plays, as is supposed to have 
been originally sung in them, or that may have been introduced in them shortly after 
their production.' Collier agrees with Knight that the whole of line 14 is clearly 
only a stage-direction, printed by error as a part of the song in the old copies, but 
instead of omitting it he places it in the margin, and has the following note : * ** Then 
sing him home " has reference to the carrying of the lord, who killed the deer, to the 
Duke ; and we are to suppose that the foresters sang as they quitted the stage for 
their " home " in the wood. '< The rest shall bear this burden " alludes to the last six 



239 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act IV, sc iu 



[the rest shall beare this burthen] 
lines, which are the burden of the song.' Dyce in his first edition says : ' Much dis- 
cussion has arisen whether these words [line 14] are a portion of the song or of the 
stage-direction. It is a question on which I do not feel myself competent to speak 
with any positiveness.' Accordingly, Dyce prints the line in the margin, in smaller 
tjrpe merely. In his two later editions he has no note, except the remark that Grant 
White altered * Then ' to They. Grant White divided the song into two sUnzas 
of four lines each, and marked them I and II ; line 14 appears as a stage-direction 
with * Then,' as has just been noted, changed to They. At the end, instead of ' Exeunt,' 
he reads : [* They bear off the deer^ s%nging.^'\ In his first edition, after giving his 
reasons for believing line 14 to be a stage-direction, which are the same as those 
advanced by preceding editors, he 9x^ : < '< Then sing him home '* has reference to 
Jaques's suggestion to present the successful hunter to the Duke ** like a Roman con- 
queror " ; for the song was *' for this pmpose." That there is an alternation of two 
lines of s(^ with two of chorus or burthen, the latter being in both cases lusty lines 
about the lusty horn, no musician or glee-singer, and it would seem no reader with an 
ear for rhythm, can entertain a doubt '< Then " in the original stage-direction seems 
plainly a misprint for they.^ Staunton prints only < The rest,' &c. in the margin as 
a stage-direction. ' We rather take,' he says, < " Then sing him home " to form the 
burden, and conjecture it ought to be repeated after each couplet' Haluwell %k^ : 

< There can be little doubt that the greater part of this song, in fact, the last six lines, 
was originally intended to be sung in chorus, Jaques being indifferent to the tune, *< so 
it make noise enough," ' wherefore Halliwell divides line 14 after *• beare,' thus keep- 
ing up the rhyme to < weare ' ; places < This burthen ' in a line by itself; and assigns 
the rest to be sung by the whole company. He claims for this arrangement that it 

< seems on the whole more likely to be correct than considering any portion of the line 
as a stage-direction.' Barron Field (Sh. Soc. Papers^ 1847, iii, 135) was the first, 
I think, to suggest that < This burthen ' should be printed by itself, but then he said it 
should be in a marginal note, wherein his treatment is slightly different from Halli- 
well's. He also suggested ^Men sing him home,' instead of < They.' 

I have thus given all, I think, of the diverse textual arrangements of this song. 
Subsequent editors have ranged themselves under one or the other leader as best 
suited their fancy. The majority, however, agree in holding < Then sing him home ' 
as part of the song, and ' The rest shall beare this burthen ' as a stage-direction ; which 
is also the belief of Roffe (p. 12) and of the present £d. 



^ 





i 




w-jijj I I'll 



What thali he hare diat kiU'd the deer T His leath • er skin, and homa to wear. 



Xake thou no scorn to wear the horn. It was 




Thy & - ther's&'ther bore 



^^1 



r i r V ir rir 



it. And thy fa - ther wore it. 



I 



The horn, tfie horn, tiie his - ty horn Is not a diing to laugh to tcora. 



ACT IV, SC it] 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



Take thou nofcorne to we are the home^ 

It was a crejl ere thou wajl borne ^ 

Thy fathers father wore ity 

And thy father bore ity 

The homey the home, the lujly home^ 

Is not a thing to laugh to f come. 



131 

IS 



Exeunt. 



20 



14. Om. Knt In margin, Coll. Wh. 
Dyce, Huds. 

the... burthen] In margin, Theob. 
+ , Steev. Mai. Sing. Sta. Clke, Ktly, 
Rife. 

14, 15. Then...fcome] As one line, 
Theob. Han. Warb. Johns. As two 
lines, Steev. '85. 



15. to... home] One line, reading To 
wear the h&my the Jk^m, the horn Theob. 
Han. Warb. Johns. One line, reading To 
wear the hom^ the lusty horn Steev. *85. 

18. thy] thy own Han. 

19. The] All. The Mai. Steev. '93. 
19, 20. Marked as * Burthen,' Wh. ii. 
19. luily] luftly F,. 



i8t Time. 



^ 



St 




jlj JUJ I J^J IP 







m 



^^ \ ^-^AA JU. JjIj jlj J U J I J . J I f II 





^ ^ I j j lj^ f\} [' ^ l (^ 



14. burthen] See III, ii, 242. 

15. home] Coleridge (p. 108) : I question whether there exists a parallel instance 
of a phrase that, like this of ' horns,' is universal in all languages, and yet for whidi 
no one has discovered even a plausible origin. 



232 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc. iii. 



Sc€^na Tertia. 



Enter Rofalind and Celia, 
Rof. How fay you now, is it not part two a clock ? 
And heere much Orlando. 

Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue,& troubled brain. 

Enter Siluitis, 5 

He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth 

Scene V. Pope, Han. Warb. Johns. much Orlando I Steev. '85. and ker^s 

Scene continued, Theob. no Orlando. "Rxtson^QmiicyiyiS), And 

2. a clock"] o'clock Theob. here — muchy Orlando / John Hunter. 

3. ^»^... Orlando] / wonder much 4-7. Pilose, Pope et seq. (except CoU.). 
Orlando is not here, Pope + . and how 6. l^ane"] ta^ne F^. id en Rowe. 
much Orlando comes f Cap. and here^s 6, 7. forth To] forth — to Cap. et seq. 

I. After the remark upon the * noisy scene/ which has just passed (see the first 
note in preceding scene), and which was introduced to fill up the interval of two 
hours, Johnson continues : This contraction of time we might impute to poor Rosa- 
lindas impatience but that a few minutes after we find Orlando sending his excuse. 
I do not see that by any probable division of the Acts this absurdity can be obviated. 
[This remark, if I understand it, and I am not sure that I do, is an undeserved slur 
on Shakespeare's dramatic art. To defend any dramatist, let alone Shakespeare, 
against the charge of absurdity in representing the passage of time by the shifting of 
scenes, is in itself an absurdity which no one, I think, would consciously commit. 
As this comedy is performed now-a-days, the < noisy scene' is fi^uently omitted 
altogether, and this present scene opens in *■ another part of the Forest ;' this of itself 
is sufficient to indicate a flight of time, and no spectator notes an < absurdity.' How 
much more pronounced is this flight when a whole scene intervenes, with new cha- 
racters and wholly new action. It is to be feared that, in very truth, this Song pene- 
trated to Dr Johnson's deaf ears only as < noise,' and that, furthermore, Shakespeare's 
art in dramatic construction was in general so exquisitely concealed that when once 
it stood revealed with unmistakable plainness, Dr Johnson resented the attempt to 
sway his mood as a personal affront. — Ed.] 

3. heere much] Whalley : We have still this use of < much,' as when we say, 
speaking of a person who we suspect will not keep his appointment, <Ay, you will be 
sure to see him much P Malone : So the vulgar yet say, < I shall get much by that, 
no doubt,' meaning that they shall get nothing. Holt White: It is spoken iron- 
ically. GiFFORD, in a note on < Much wench, or much son I' — Every Man in his 
Humour y IV, iv, p. 117, says ' Much !' is an ironical exclamation for little or none^ in 
which sense it frequently occurs in our old dramatists. Thus in Heywood's Edward 
IV: *'Much duchess I and much queen, I trow !' [On p. 40 of Edward IV^ ed. Sh. 
Soc. there is < Much queen, I trow I' but I cannot find the line as given by Gifibrd, 
who is usually accurate. — Ed.] 

4-7. Walker (CW^. i, 16) : These lines are printed as verse in the Folio; which, 



ACT IV, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 233 

To fleepe : looke who comes heere. 7 

SU. My errand is to you,faire youth, 
My gentle PhebeydXA bid me giue you this : 
I know not the contents, but as I gueffe 10 

By the fterne brow, and wafpifli aftion 
Which fhe did vfe, as fhe was writing of it, 
It beares an angry tenure ; pardon me, 
I am but as a guiltleffe meffenger. 

Rof. Patience her felfe would ftartle at this letter, 15 

And play the fwaggerer, beare this, beare all : 
Shee faies I am not faire,that I lacke manners. 
She calls me proud, and that fhe could not loue me 
Were man as rare as Phenix : 'od's my will, 19 

9. did'\ Mai. Cald. KdI, Coll. i, Wh« 13. tenure\ tenour Theob. et seq. 
i, Dyce i. Om. Ff et cet 16. After reading the letter. Han. 

10. kfuruT^ knew Ff. 

coupled with their being followed by a dialogue, also in verse, inclines me to think 
Shakespeare meant them as such. [Walker makes no new division of the lines, 
but aids the rhythm by reading ' warrant ' as wart'nt^ and contracting ' and is ' to 
aiK/'x.] CoLUER (ed. ii) : [Lines 4 and 6] are underscored in the Folio (MS) as 
if they were a quotation, and they read like it Celia applied them to Orlando, who 
had nothing to do with * bows and arrows ' that we are anywhere informed. [In line 
6] < is ' was erased by the old annotator. [Capell introduced a dash after ' forth,' in 
line 6, and has been followed in every subsequent edition, I think, except the Cam- 
bridge, the Globe, Wright's, and White's second edition.] 

8. faire youth] Abbott (§510), considers an interjectional line, and thus scans: 
' Look, wh6 I comes h^re ? | My tfr | rand (s | to y6u || Fair y6uth, || My g^nt | le 
Ph^ I be bfd I me give | you this.' 

9. did bid] Keightley : Editors, myself included, follow F,, and omit < did.' I 
think we are wrong. [We are, therefore, to infer that Keightley would here pro- 
nounce ' Fhebe ' as a monosyllable, wherein he has Collier for company. It is not 
impossible that it may have been the lover's pet-name, but where it occurs farther on, 
in V, iv, 25, it seems wholly out of place &om Rosalind. I think it should be pro- 
nounced uniformly as a dissyllable. — Ed.] 

12. writing of it] For other instances of this construction of verbal nouns, see, if 
need be, Abbott, § 178. 

14. as] Abbott, §115: As was used almost, but not quite, redundantly after 
< seem ' (as it is still after ' regard,' < represent ') : 'To prey on nothing that doth seem 
as dead,' — [line 123, below], and even after < am' [as here, where it means] : ' I am 
here in the character of^ &c. 

18. calls . • . and that] Abbott, $ 382 : As in Latin, a verb of speaking can be 
omitted where it is implied by some other word, as here : * She ccMs me proud, and 
(says) that,' &c. 

19. man . . . Phenix] Walker in his Article (LI, Vers. p. 243) on the plural of 
Substantives ending in a plural sound which are found without the usual addition of t 



234 ^S you LIKE IT [act iv, fic. Hi. 

Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt, 20 

Why writes fhe fo to me ? well Shepheard, well, 
This is a Letter of your owne deuice. 

Sil. No, I proteft, I know not the contents, 
Phebe did write it. 

Rof. Come, come, you are a foole, 25 

And tum'd into the extremity of loue. 

20. doe] did Ff, Rowe. 26. turned into the] turned in the or 

25. you are] you're Pope + , Dyce iii, turned so in the Cap. conj. 
Huds. the extremity] th* extremity Pope 

-f , Dyce iii, Hud&. 

or eSf instances (p. 266) < words ending in jt,' and cites the present line thus : * Were 
men as rare as Phoenix/ which last word he evidently thinks should be thus 
printed : Phoenix' as an indication of the plural. Lettsom's foot-note is as follows : 
< Walker does not say from what edition he took the reading men. I find it in a 
small edition published by Tilt in 1836, professedly ^* from the text of the corrected 
copies of Steevens and Malone/' and therefore I suppose it is the reading of what 
used to be called the received text. The Four Folios, Pope, Hanmer, Theobald, 
Capell, Var. 1821, Knight, and Collier all read ^ man," but the sense seems to demand 
men,* Lettsom might have added, as reading < man,* Rowe i, ii, Warburton, Johnson, 
the Var. 1773, 1778, 1785, Steevens, 1793, Malone, 1790, Rann, Var. 1803, 1813, 
Harness, Singer's First Edition, Chalmers, Campbell,— all except Hazlitt, 1 85 1, who 
reads men. In Hazlitt I am inclined to think that the reading is by no means acci- 
dental. — Ed. 

19. Pheniz] Halliwell: 'That there is but one Phoenix in the World, which 
alter many htmdred years bumeth it self, and from the ashes thereof ariseth up another, 
is a conceit not new or altogether popular, but of great Antiquity.'— Brown's Vulgar 
Errors [Book III, chap, xii, p. 144, ed. 1672]. 

19. 'od's my will] Are not all these oaths, in which Rosalind indulges with 
marked freedom, her attempts to assume a swashing and a martial outside ? Before 
she donned doublet and hose she uttered none. < Faith ' was then her strongest 
affirmation, but from the hour she entered Arden we hear these charming little oaths 
from Ganymede. This, among others, is a reason, I think, why we should not adopt 
Spedding's pulpiter in place of * Jupiter ' in III, ii, 154; or Collier's * Love, love * in 
lieu of * Jove, Jove * in II, iv, 60. — Ed. 

24. write it] Mason (p. 87) : The metre of this line is imperfect, and the sense 
of the whole ; for why should Rosalind dwell so much upon Phebe's hands unless 
Silvius had said something about them ? I have no doubt but the line originally ran 
thus : < Phebe did write xX.'^with her own fair hand.* And then Rosalind's reply will 
naturally follow. Cowden-Clarkb : Mason's conjecture is very plausible. Some 
allusion to the whiteness and delicacy of Phebe's hand seems requisite to accomt for 
Rosalind's abuse of its colour and texture. 

26. tum'd into] Capell : Had Silvius been at first a cool lover, as now a hot one, 
the word * tum'd' had been proper; but as this was never the case, we must either 
put a sense upon < tum'd ' that is not common, to wit, got or fall'n ; or else suspect a 
cormption, and look out for amendment: [See Text. Notes] both [of these are] 



ACT IV, sc. ui.] AS YOU LIKE IT 235 

I faw her hand, fhe has a leatheme hand 27 

A freeftone coloured hand : I verily did thinke 

That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands: 

She has a hufwiues hand, but that's no matter: 30 

I fay fhe neuer did inuent this letter, 

This is a mans inuention,and his hand. 

Sil, Sure it is hers. 

Rof. Why,tis a boyfterous and a cruell ftile, 
A ftile for challengers : why, fhe defies me, 35 

Like Turke to Chriftian : vvomens gentle braine 
Could not drop forth fuch giant rude inuention, 
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effeft 
Then in their countenance : will you heare the letter ? 

Sil. So pleafe you, for I neuer heard it yet : 40 

Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie. 

Rof. She Phebes me : marke how the tyrant writes. 42 

29. on'\ one F,Fj. ct cet. 

36. vvomens] Ff,Cam. woman^s Rowe 37. giant rude] giant-rude Var. *2I. 

within the bounds of probability, but the first of them seems the most eligible : for 
'tmned' will signify-^ead-turned ; and then Rosalind's meaning will be, — Come, 
come, you're a simpleton, and the violence of your love has tum'd your head. 
Wright : That is, brought into. Compare, for this sense of ' turn,' Tkvo Gent, IV, 
iv, 67 : <A slave, that still an end turns me to shame.' The Temp, I, ii, 64 : < O 
my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have tum'd you to.' Twelfth N. II, 
y, 224 : < It cannot but turn him into a notable contempt' Cor, III, i, 284 : < The 
which shall turn you to no further harm.' Hence Capell's emendations are unneceS' 
sary. 

28. freestone coloured] Wright : Of the colour of Bath brick. Neil : StnO- 
ford-on- Avon is situated on the Oolite strata, which are much used in building because 
they are able to be worked freely or easily by the mason. This, therefore, is a glover 's- 
son-like descriptive phrase for a somewhat brownish-yellow hand, readily suggested 
to a Warwickshire man. 

32. his hand] Is the key to the masculine character of Phebe's handwriting, 
which evidently surprises Rosalind, to be found in the emphatic * waspish action ' 
with which Silvius says she wrote the letter ? Like Hamlet's nervous gesture when 
he writes : * So, uncle, there you are !' — Ed. 

34, &c. Phebe's letter, apart from the deception which is practised on Silvius, is, I 
think, charming, pace Hartley Coleridge ; Rosalind is therefore forced into this furious^ 
exaggerated abuse of it, and into fictitious quotations from it, in order to arouse in 
Silvius a proper degree of manly indignation against Phebe, and to make him, poor 
tame snake, believe in her cruelty. — Ed. 

37. giant rude] For many more such compounds see Abbott, $ 43a 

39. countenance] For the sake of exactest rhythm this is to be pronoonced as a 
dissyllable. See Abbott, § 468, 



>36 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. iii. 

Read. Art tJiou god, to Sheplurd turned} 43 

That a maidens heart hath burtid. 
Can a woman raile thus ? 45 

Sil. Call you this railing ? 

Rof. Read. Why y thy godhead laid a part^ 
Wat^Jl thou with a wotnans heart ? 
Did you euer heare fuch railing ? 

Whiles tlie eye of man did wooe me^ $0 

That could do no vengeance to me. 
Meaning me a beafl. 
If the fcorne of your bright eine 
Haue power to raife fuch loue in mine^ 

Alacke, in me^ whatflrange effell 55 

Would they worke in milde afpeSl ? 
Whiles you chid me , / did loue , 
How then might your praiers moue ? 
He that brings this loue to thee^ 

43, 47. Read.] Reads. Rowe et seq. 47. a part] apart Ff. 

43. god] a god KUy. 48. War'ft] Waft F^. 

Shepherd] fheapheard F,. 52. me'\ nuy Theob. Warb. 

43,44. tum'd?...bum'd.] tum^d^,., 53. eine] ^,yii/ Rowe. 

burned? Rowe et seq. 57. chid] Mtic^ Rowe. 

43, 47. Read] This imperative mood here betrays the stage copy. — ^Ed. 

43. Hartley Coleridge (ii, 144) : Fhebe is no great poetess. It may be 
remarked in general that the poetry, introduced as such by Shakespeare, is seldom 
better than doggerel. A poem in a poem, a play in a play, a picture in a picture, the 
imitation of flageolet or trumpet in pianoforte music, are all departures fixnn legitimate 
art ; and yet how frequent in our old drama was the introduction of play within play ! 
Sometimes, as in Bartholomew Fair, Tke Knight of the Burning Pestle^ The Tam- 
ing of the Shrew, and others, the main performance is as it were double-dramatised ; 
an expedient which Moore, in his Lalla Rookh, has transferred to narrative. But 
more frequently the episodic drama is more or less subservient to the plot, as in Ham' 
let. The Roman Actor, &c. ; or purely burlesque, as in Midsummer Night^s Dream, 

51. vengeance] Johnson : Here used for mischief 

52. That is, of course, meaning that I am a beast Theobald, by his conmia after 
< me,' made it possible to suppose that Rosalind calls Fhebe a beast — Ed. 

54. Haue] Abbott, § 412 : The subjunctive is not required, and therefore ' have ' 
is probably plural here. 

56. aspect] Schmidt paraphrases this as look, air, countenance, but Wright is 
clearly more correct in interpreting it as ' an astrological term used to denote the 
favourable or unfavourable appearance of the planets,' for which interpretation Schmidt 
furnishes many examples. ' The accent,* adds Wright, < is always on the last syllable.' 

59. loue] Walker (Crit. i, 295) marks this word as suspicious, but does not sug- 
gest any in its room ; he merely says : *Love occurs three other times in the course 



ACT IV. sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 237 

Little knawes this Laue in me : 60 

And by him fe ale vp thy minde^ 

Whether that thy youth and kinde 

Will thefaithfidl offer take 

Of mey and all that I can make^ 

Or elfe by him my loue denie^ 65 

And then Ilejludie how to die. 

Sil. Call you this chiding ? 

Cel* Alas poore Shepheard. 

Rof. Doe you pitty him ? No, he deferues no pitty : 
wilt thou loue fuch a woman ? what to make thee an in- 70 

ftrument,and play falfe ftraines vpon thee f not to be en- 
dured. Well,goe your way to her; (for I fee Loue hath 
made thee a tame fnake) and fay this to her ; That if fhe 
loue me, I charge her to loue thee : if fhe will not, I will 
neuer haue her, vnleffe thou intreat for her : if you bee a 75 

true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more 
company. Exit, Sil. 

Enter Oliuer. know) 

Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones : pray you, (if you 79 

60. this] that Rowc ii. 78. Scene VI. Pope, Han. Warb. 

71. Jlraines] strings ¥{f Rowe. Johns. 

76. louer Aence,"] /ovtr, hence^ Rowe. 

of these fourteen lines.' If repetition Is in itself suspicious, and it often is, I cannot 
think that this is the < love ' on which suspicion should light ; it is connected indis- 
solubly with the preceding < love,' that flourished even under chiding. It is this very 
love which is now sent by Silvius, so it seems to me. — Ed. 

62. kinde] Johnson: The old word for nature, Caldecott: Natural and 
kindly affections. 

64. make] Steevens : That is, raise as profit from anything. So in Meas. for 
Meas. IV, iii, 5 : * He's in for a commodity of brown paper, .... of which he made 
five marks.' Caldecott : That is, make up, all that shall be my utmost amount. 
Hallfwell : Probably used in its ordinary acceptation, make by my labour or skill. 

70. instrument] That is, use thee as a messenger while deceiving thee; as 
Wright sa3rs, it is here used in two senses, as a tool and as a musical instrument. 

73. snake] Malone : This term was frequently used to express a poor, contempt- 
ible fellow. So in Sir John OldcastUf 1600: « Priest, —and you, poor snakes, come 
seldom to a booty.' — [p. 253, a, FJ. Again, in Lord Cromwell^ 1602 : *Hales. — ^nd 
the poorest Snake, that feeds on Lemmons, Pilchers.' — [p. 234, 3, F^. Cotgrave 
(always a good authority) gives : ^Haire. m. A leane, or ill-fauoured curtail ; a carrion 
iade ; (hence) also, a wretched or miserable fellow ; a poore snake.' — Ed.] 

79. faire ones] Wright : Shakespeare seems to have forgotten that Celia was 



238 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. iii. 

Where in the Purlews of this Forreft, ftands 80 

A fheep-coat,fencM about with Oliue-trees. 

Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbor bottom 
The ranke of Oziers,by the murmuring ftreame 
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place : 
But at this howre,the houfe doth keepe it felfe, 85 

There's none within. 

OH. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
Then fhould I know you by defcription. 
Such garments, and fuch yeeres : the boy is feire, 
Of femall fauour, and beftowes himfelfe 90 

80. Where i«] Wherein F^F^. 89-92. the boy .„brother'\ As a quo- 

84. brings\ bring Ff, Rowe i. tation, Theob. et seq. 

85. howre'\ F,. 90. femall^ F,. female F^F^. 

apparently the only woman present. Perhaps we should read ' fair one,^ [Decidedly. 
It is the very last oversight which Shakespeare would be likely to commit. It is 
Celia who replies, which increases the likelihood that it is she alone who is 
addressed. — ^Ed.] 

79. (if you know)] Rowe exchanged these parentheses of the Folios for commas. 
Johnson was the first to drop the second comma and read : ' Pray you, if you know 
"^liere in the/ &c., and was followed, except by Capell, in all editions down to and 
including Knight. G)llier restored the second comma, which has been since retained. 
It is a trifling matter, but it involves a shade of meaning which an editor cannot dis- 
regard. — Ed. 

80. Purlews] Malone : Bullokar, Expository has : *Purh4e, A place neere ioin- 
ing to a Forrest, where it is lawfull for the owner to the groxmd to hunt, if hee can 
dispend fortie shillings by the yeere of free land.' Reed : Purlieu^ says Manwood's 
Treatise on the Forest Laws, c. xx, * is a certaine territorie of ground adjoyning unto 
the forest, meared and bounded with unmoveable marks, meeres, and boundaries : 
which territories of ground was also forest, and afterwards disaforested againe by the 
perambulations made for the severing of the new forest from the old.' 

82. bottom] Capell : This word should have a fuller stop after it, a semicolon; 
for the meaning of these lines, whose construction is a little perplex'd, is as follows : 
It stands to the west of this place y and doTtm in the neighbour bottom ; if you leave 
the rank of osiers y that grows by the brook-side, on your right handy it will hsmgyou 
to the place. [For many examples of noun compounds, see Abbott, § 430.] 

83. ranke] See III, ii, 97. 

84. Left] See Capcll's foregoing note. 

90. fauour] Moberly : To favour is to resemble in Yorkshire even now [and here 
in this country also. — Ed.]. Hence it might be argued that 'favour* means resem- 
blance y and therefore cottntenance. It would, however, be more accurate to derive the 
verb from the substantive, as in the parallel phrase of the same dialect, < you breed o' 
me,' for you are like me. In that case < favour ' may perhaps be a corruption (by 
proximity) of < feature ' (faiture), which is similarly used as a verb (< a glass that fea- 
tured them '). Compare, for the vanishing of the /, * vetulus ' with < vieil,' and < em* 



•/ 



ACT IV, sc. m.J AS YOU LIKE IT 239 

Like a ripe fifter : the woman low 91 

91. ripeji/ier] right forester Lettsom, Steev. Mai. Sing. Qke, KUy, Dyce iii, 
Huds. Coll. iii. 

the\ But the Ff, Rowe+» Cap. 

ph3rteu8i8 * with • (en)fief.* Wright : * Favour * is aspect, look ; used generally of 
the face. Compare Meub. I, ▼, 73 : * To alter favour ever is to fear.' And Hatnlet^ 
Vy i, 214 : < Let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.' 

90. bestowes] Steevens : Compare 2 Hen, IV: II, ii, 186: * How might we see 
Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen ?' 
Rbv. John Hunter : I apprehend the meaning here to be, that by stuffing out his 
bosom, he gives himself the appearance of a girl of ripe age. [Schmidt supplies 
many exan^les where < bestow,' used reflectively, means to deport one's self.'] 

91. ripe sister] Walker {Fers. 209) : *A ripe sister' seems an odd expression. 
Lettsom [in a foot-note to Walker] : Odd, no doubt, and it is not less odd that 
nobody, as far as I know, made this remark before. * Ripe sister ' seems corrupted 
from right forester. This last word was often written forster and foster. Perhaps, 
too, the first < and ' has usuiped the place of but. The F, reads : < Like a ripe sister s 
But the woman low,' &c. So in Macb. I, vii, the same edition has : 'And dasht the 
Branes out, had I but so swome,' &c. But^ in both these passages, is a crutch fur- 
nished by the compassionate editor to assist the lameness of the metre. In Macbeth 
the idiom of our language, as well as the harmony of the verse, seems to require us to 
read : 'And dash'd the brains on^t out, had I so sworn,' &c. Dyce (ed. iii) pro- 
nounces this emendation of Lettsom's < most ingenious,' a commendation by no means 
too strong. *A ripe sister,' not only as a phrase by itself, but as applied to a young 
man or even to a * boy,' seems to be not merely ' odd,' but almost unintelligible, and 
until something better is proposed Lettsom's r^ht forester holds, for me, pre-eminent 
rank. But, on the other hand, Wright, our highest Shakespearian authority now 
living, accepts the present text, and sa3rs : ' The meaning must be that Rosalind, though 
in male attire and acting the part of a brother, was in her behaviour to Celia more like 
an elder sister.' See also Hunter's explanation in the preceding note.-— Ed. 

91. sister] Of course it is manifest that the scansion of this line halts if we read 
it in the right butterwon^'s rank to market. To smooth it out Walker ( Vers, 209) 
suggested that ' sister ' be pionounced as he says daughter is sometimes pronounced ; 
that is, as a trisyllable. Oxen and wainropes will never draw me to the belief that 
either word was ever so pronounced, or at least ever should be so pronounced. 
Almost invariably where the rhythm halts over these two words there is a pause in the 
sense ; and this pause it is which takes the place of the extra syllable. How Walker 
missed seeing this, it is difficult to comprehend. He himself even calls attention to 
this pause, and notes that in at least half of the instances of his trisyllabic daughter 
there is not only a pause, but a full stop after the word. And yet he speculated on 
the original form of the word as a source of its prolonged pronunciation, and Lettsom 
suggested that it might lie in the original guttural sound. Abbott, too, is scarcely 
better ; for he suggests (§ 478) that the -er final may have been * sometimes pronounced 
with a kind of *' burr," which produced the effect of an additional syllable,' and thus 
scans the present line : ' Like a | ripe sfis | //r .* | the wdm | an Idw.' * Trisyllables 
and * burrs ' may make lines rhythmical on paper, but let them remain on the paper, 
and never leave it Or let them be set to the music which is asked for in Othello, 
*that may not be heard.'—- Ed. 



240 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. uL 

And browner then her brother : are not you 92 

The owner of the houfe I did enquire for ? 

Cel. It is no boaft, being ask'd, to fay we are. 

OIL Orlando doth commend him to you both, 95 

And to that youth hee calls his Ro/alind, 
He fends this bloudy napkin ; are you he ? 

Ro/, I am : what muft we vnderftand by this ? 

Olu Some of my fhame, if you will know of me 
What man I am, and how, and why, and where I GO 

This handkercher was ftain'd. 

Cel, I pray you tell it. 

Olu When laft the yong Orlando parted from you, 
He left a promife to returne againe 

Within an houre, and pacing through the Forreft, 105 

Chewing the food of fweet and bitter fancie, 

93. owner] owners Cap. conj. Hal. Huds. Rife, handkerchief "Royrt et cet, 

Dyce iii, Huds. 105. an houre] two hours Han. 

97. this] his Warb. (misprint?). lo6. food] cud Sta. Dyce ii, ill, ColL 

loi. handkercher] Ff, Dyce, Cam. iii, Huds. 

92. browner] Cowden-Clarke : It must be remembered tbat when Celia pro- 
posed to disguise herself as a shepherdess, she says that she will ' with a kind of 
umber smirch ' her < face ' ; and this browner complexion, mentioned here, shows that 
she has fulfilled her idea. 

93. owner] Capell's conjecture is harmless ; but Cowden-Clarks thus vindicates 
the original text in a note on Celia's reply * we are * : ' In this little touch there is a 
manifestation of Shakespeare's subtlety and true taste. Oliver, wholly occupied with 
Celia, asks her if she be the " owner of the house " he inquires for ; but she, with the 
usual delicacy, modesty, and generosity which characterise her, especially where 
sharing all things equally with her cousin is concerned, answers by a word that com- 
prehends them both as joint-ownere.' 

97. napkin] Steevens : That is, handkerchief [as it is called within five lines.— 
Ed.]. Ray says that a pocket-handkerchief is so called about Sheffield in Yorkshire. 
Boswell : Napkin is still a handkerchief in Scotland, and probably in all the north- 
em English counties. [* Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne.* — Lover's Com- 
plaint^ 21. See 0th, III, iii, 335, where the fatal < handkerchief spotted with straw- 
berries * is also called a * napkin.* — Ed.] 

loi. handkercher] This is the uniform spelling in the Firet Quarto of Othello; 
and once the Third Folio (IV, i, 167) spells it * HankerchifTe.* In the First Folio in 
Othello the spelling is uniformly * handkerchiefe.' 

105. an houre] < We must read,* says Johnson, 'vrithin two hours,' and then did 
not so read in his text. As Tyrwhitt asks, < may not '< within an hour ** signify ivithin 
a certain time ?' It does not mean one; it is simply the indefinite article. — Ed. 

106. food] Staunton : Undoubtedly a misprint. * To chew the cud,* metaphori- 
cally, to ruminate^ to resolve in the mind, is an expression of frequent occurrence in 



ACT IV, sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 241 

Loe what befell : he threw his eye afide, 107 

And marke what obieft did prefent it felfe 

Vnder an old Oake, whofe bows were mofs'd with age 

And high top, bald with drie antiquitie: IIO 

A wretched ragged man,ore-growne with haire 

Lay fleeping on his back ; about his necke 1 12 

109. old'\ Om. Pq)e+, Cap. Steev. 1 10. wUh"] o/Rowe ii. Pope, Han. 

Wh. Cam. Dyce iii, Huds. Rife. 

our old authors. Dyce (ed. ii) : In the Introduction to Quentin Durward the imag- 
inary Marquis de Hautlieu is made to quote the present line thus : ^Shewing the code 
of sweet and bitter fancy ' ; which is followed by the remark : * Against this various 
reading of a well-known passage in Shakespeare I took care to offer no protest ; for I 
suspect Shakespeare would have suffered in the opinion of so delicate a judge as the 
Marquis, had I proved his having written " chewing the cud^^ according to all other 
authorities.' — p. xxxvi, ed. 1823. Sir Walter Scott, therefore, was not aware that *• all 
authorities * agreed in < chewing the food of,' &c. ; and to him, in fact, we owe the 
correction of the line. Erem {Noies &* Qu. 5th ser. iv, 4) : The cud is identically 
the chewed. There is, then, a chewing that is not the cud, but of fresh food, which, 
become so a cud, is laid by for re-chewing. Orlando chews no cud, but the food, 
ever springing afresh, of sweet and bitter love-thoughts, a crop in repute for quick 

and thick gpnowth How at home the metaphor is in the English mind is shown 

in the curious fact that the oral tradition of our educated society has usurped posses- 
sion of the verse, turning < food ' into cud. Engage ten persons of literary cultivation 
with the elder brother's revelation of the younger's reverie, and, if the world is as it 
was, nine will, I expect, pledge their scholarship to that reading of this text which, 
on the page of Shakespeare, they have not read. With a step back into the world 
as it was you have wonderfully Sir Walter Scott in example, [who] deliberately 
alleges cttd for the universal reading, more than a generation before [a single text] 
had it 

106. bitter fancy] Capell : The epithets given to ' Fancy ' look'd so like a trans- 
lation of the Greek yXwcfrntxpov, that the editor thought for some time, the Poet must, 
somehow or other, have been fishing in those waters ; but turning again to his novel- 
ist, he found a passage he had not reflected on, and thus it runs : * Wherein I have 
noted the variable disposition of fancy, .... being as it should seeme a combat mixt 
with disquiet, and a bitter pleasure wrapt in a sweet prejudice ' ; the words are 
address'd to Rosalind by this identical speaker. [See Appendix.] Malone : Low 
is always thus described by our old poets, as composed by contraries. See notes on 
I^om. ^ Jul. I, i, 169. Farmer : Watson begins one of his canzonets : < Love is a 
sowre delight, a sugred griefe, A living death, an ever-dying life,' &c. 

109. old] Stervens : As this epithet hurts the measure without improvement of 

the sense (for we are told in the same line that its * boughs were moss'd with d^,* 

and, afterwards, that its top was bald with dry antiquity)^ I have omitted it, as an 

unquestionable interpolation. White : I cannot believe that in an otherwise deftly 

wrought and perfectly rhythmical passage, Shakespeare would load a line with a 

heavy monosyllable, entirely superfluous to any purpose other than that of marring 

the description and making the verse halt 
16 



242 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv, sc. Hi. 

A greene and guilded fnake had wreath'd it felfe, 113 

Who with her head, nimble in threats approach^ 

The opening of his mouth : but fodainly 1 15 

Seeing Orlando^ it vnlink'd it felfe, 

And with indented glides, did flip away 

Into a bufh, vnder which bufhes fhade 

A Lyonnefle, with vdders all drawne drie, 

Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch 120 

When that the fleeping man fhould ftirre ; for 'tis 

The royall difpofition of that bead 

To prey on nothing, that doth feeme as dead : 123 

114. threats] threats ^ Rowe. 1 1 8. which"] who/e Ff, Rowe. 

113. guilded] RoLFE cites Schmidt as 'noting that Shakespeare uses ''gilded'' 
twenty times and "gilt" only six times.' 

113. snake] Maginn (p. 91) : Some sage critics have discovered as a great geo- 
graphical fault in Shakespeare that he introduces the tropical lion and serpent into 
Arden, which, it appears, they have ascertained to lie in some temperate zone. I 
wish them joy of their sagacity. Monsters more wonderful are to be found in that 
forest ; for never yet, since water ran and tall tree bloomed, were there gathered 
together such a company as those who compose the dramatis persona of As You Like 
It, All the prodigies spawned by Africa, leonum arida nutrix, might well have 
teemed in a forest, wherever situate, that was inhabited by such creatures as Rosalind, 
Touchstone, and Jaques. [Maginn refers to certain < sage critics ' who have severely 
criticised Shakespeare's geography. Other commentators refer to ' wiseacres,' or to 
' would-be critics,' who sneer at Shakespeare's ' lions ' and scoff at his * palm trees ' 
here in the forest of Arden, but nowhere that I can find are these * sage critics * or 

* wiseacres ' mentioned by name. I would gladly know who they are. My reading 
has been tolerably extensive in what has been written about this play, and yet I have 
never come across these sneerers and scoffers. Allusion to them is abundant, and 
illimitable ridicule is heaped on them, and no end of indignation is stirred in defence 
of poor dear Shakespeare against their inanities, but the cowards skulk, and dodge, 
and hide, and show never a face. Exist somewhere they must. It cannot be that 
we are all turned Don Quixotes. At last, in my search for these wretches, I have 
concluded, in my despair, that it is absolutely necessary to take a hint from the Law, 
and to adopt, for the nonce, into our circle of commentators a < John Doe ' and a 

* Richard Roe,' whom we may here load with obloquy, cover with ridicule, and 
wither with indignation, to our own immense relief, and with the heartsome reflection 
that no breather in the world will be, for it all, one atom the worse. — Ed.] 

114. Who] See III, v, 15, and again, line 137 below, or Abbott, §264, for 
instances of *who' personifying irrational antecedents. 

119. drie] Steevens : So in Arden of Fevershanty 1592: *the stamen Lyones, 
When she is dry suckt of her eager young.' — [II, ii, p. 37, ed. Bullen. Compare 
Lear^ III, i, 12: 'This night wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch.'] 

121. that . . . should] For * that,' see I, iii, 44; for ' should,' see Abbott, § 326. 

123. dead] The belief in this disposition is probably as old as Aristotle; it is men- 



ACT IV. sc. iii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 243 

This feene, Orlando did approach the man, 

And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 125 

Cel, O I haue heard him fpeake of that fame brother, 
And he did render him the moft vnnaturall 
That liuM amongft men. 

OH. And well he might fo doe. 
For well I know he was vnnaturall. 130 

Rof. But to Orlando : did he leaue him there 
Food to the fuck'd and hungry Lyonneffe ? 

Olu Twice did he turne his backe,and purposM fo : 
But kindneffe, nobler euer then reuenge. 

And Nature ftronger then his iuft occafion, 135 

Made him giue battell to the Lyonneffe : 
Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling 137 

128. among/f] Ff, Rowe i, Cam. Wh. ii. among Rife, ^mongst Rowe ii et cet 

tioned by Pliny in his chapter on Lions, which he says he derived in the main from 
the Greek. Grey (i, 185) called attention to this passage in Pliny, which thus appears 
in Holland's translation (Book VIII, chap, xvi] : < The Lion alone of all wilde beasts, 
is gentle to those that humble themselues vnto him, and will not touch any such vpon 
their submission, but spareth what creature soeuer lieth prostrate before him.* Natu- 
rally, in the case of a belief so old and so popular, allusions to it abound. * The rag- 
ing Lyon neuer rendes The 3rielding pray, that prostrate lyes,* it stands written in 
\Villobie*s Aznsa, p. 99, ed. Grosart ; and Douce (i, 308) cites Bartholomaeus, Dt 
Propriet. Rerum : * their mercie is known by many and oft ensamples : for they spare 
them that lye on the ground.* Shakespeare refers to the nobleness of the lion in 
Twelfth N. and in Tro. ^ Cress. Moreover, this delay of the lion in devouring 
Oliver is mentioned in Lodge's Novel (see Appendix), although it is there stated as 
due not to a royal disposition, but to a disrelish of ' dead carkasses.* — Ed. 

123. as] See line 14, above. 

127. render him] Malone: That is, describe him. [This line is another furtive 
Alexandrine which Abbott would unmask by 'slurring' the last two syllables of 
' nnna/t/ra/.* To say unnafral would come nat'ral to Hosea Bigelow, but, I think, 
to no one else. — Ed.] 

131, &c. Fletcher (p. 222) : How finely is this scene contrived so as to show us 
the dignity of Rosalind's affection ever keeping pace with its increasing warmth. 
Her first solicitude, on this occasion, is not about her lover's personal safety, but as to 
the worthiness of his conduct under this new and extraordinary trial of his generosity. 

135. occasion] Caldecott: That is, such reasonable ground as might have amply 
justified, or given just occasion for abandoning him. See IV, i, 167. 

137. Who] See line 114, above. 

137. hurtling] Steevens : To hurtle is to move with impetuosity and tumult. So 
in Jul. Cas. II, i , 22 : * The noise of battle hurtled in the air.* Skeat : To come 
into collision with, to dash against, to rattle. Nearly obsolete, but used in Gray's 
Fatal SisterSy St. i ; imitated from Shakespeare's Jul. Cas. Middle English, hurtlen^ 



244 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc. iii. 

From miferable flumber I awaked. 138 

CeL Are you his brother ? 

Rof. Was't you he refcu'd ? 140 

CeL Was't you that did fo oft contriue to kill him ? 

Olu 'Twas I : but ^tis not I : I doe not fhame 
To tell you what I was, fince my conuerfion 
So fweeetly taftes, being the thing I am. 

Rof. But for the bloody napkin ? 145 

Olu By and by : 
When from the firft to laft betwixt vs two, 
Teares our recountments had moft kindely bath'd, 
As how I came into that Defert place. 

I briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke, 150 

Who gaue me frefli aray, and entertainment, 

140. Jf^/] Ff, Rowe, Pbpe, Han. 144. fweeetly] F,. 

Theob. i, Sing. Wh. Sta. Cami. Rife. 149. As how] As^ how Steev. '93 ct 

Was it Theob. ii et cet. seq. (subs.). 

refold] rescued Knt, Cam. Ktly, Defert ] Defart F^ Rowe, Pope, 

Coll. iii, Huds. Rife. Theob. Han. Warb. 

141. Was't] Was it Theob. ii, Warb. 150. /] In Ff. 

to jostle against, dash against, push. 'And he him hurtleth with his hora adoun.'— 
Chaucer, C. T. 2618, in the Ellesmere MS, where most other MSS have hurteth. In 
fact, hurt-le is merely the frequentative of hurt^ in the sense of < to dash.* And this 
hurt is the Mid. Eng. hurten, to dash, to dash one's foot against a thing, to stumble. 
* If ony man wandre in the dai, he hirtith not,' t. e. stumbles not.-r-Wyclif, John^ xi, 
9. HurteHf to dash, is the same with the modem English word. 

147, &c. Capell : No heedful peruser of this line, and the three it is follow' d by, 
ian think we have the passage entire ; other heads of these brothers' * recountments ' 
are apparently necessary to make the Poet's * in brief right and sensible. What the 
accident was, or whose the negligence, that has depriv'd us of these heads, the editor 
does not take upon him to say ; this only he is bold to assert, that there is a lacuna^ 
and (perhaps) of two lines : if the public thinks well to admit of them, here are two 
that may serve to fill up with : < How, in that habit ; what my state, what his ; || And 
whose the service he was now engag'd in ; — || In brief,* &c. Malone : I believe a 
line has been lost after line 149. Steevens : I suspect no omission. Keightley : 
There may have been a line lost, but I rather think it is an aposiopesis. [The omis- 
sion of a line is so serious a defect that we might diminish the chances of its having 
occurred by converting * recountments ' into the singular. That final / is an unruly 
letter, which has given so much trouble that Walker even goes so far as to suggest, 
as I have already noted many times, that its presence may have been due to some 
peculiarity in Shakespeare's handwriting. At any rate, its omission here is certainly 
less violent than the insertion of a whole line, or, worse still, of two whole lines. 
Keightley's < aposiopesis ' is not without its dramatic effect, as though emotion choked 
the speaker. — Ed.] 

149. As] Steevens : <As,' in this place, signifies— as for instance. [See II, i, 8.] 



ACT IV. sc. iu.] AS YOU LIKE IT 245 

Committing me vnto my brothers loue, 152 

Who led me inftantly vnto his Caue, 

There ftript himfelfe, and heere vpon his arme 

The Lyonneffe had tome fome flefli away, 155 

Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted, 

And cride in fainting vpon Ro/alinde. 

Briefe,! recouer^d him, bound vp his wound, 

And after fome fmall fpace, being ftrong at heart. 

He fent me hither, ftranger as I am 160 

To tell this ftory,that you might excufe 

His broken promife, and to giue this napkin 

Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth, 

That he in fport doth call his Rofalind. 

CeL Why how now Ganimed, fweet Ganimed. 165 

OH, Many will fwoon when they do look on bloud. 

CeL There is more in it ; Cofen Ganimed. 

OIL Looke,he recouers. 

Ro/. I would I were at home. 

CeL Wee'U lead you thither : 1 70 

161. Jtory] Om. F^F^. 167. more in it"] no more in it F^F^, 

163. this] Mai. Steev. '93, Cald. Knt Rowe. no more in^t Pope, Han. 

his Ff, Rowe + , dp. G>11. Wh. Dyce, Cofen Ganimed] Cousin Gani- 

Sta. Cam. Ktly. med/Rowe. Cousin — Ganymed ! ]ohn&, 

164. [R08. faints. Pope etseq. (subs.). Steev. Mai. Wh. i. 

165. Ganimed,yz&^^/ Ganimed.] (za/t^- 168. [Raising her. Coll. ii (MS). 
med I — Sweet ! — Ganymed ! Johns. 1 69. / would ] Would Pope + . 

158. Briefe] In Schmidt will be fomid other instances of 'brief thus used. 

163. this] Malone : The change to his of F, is unnecessary. Oliver points to 
the handkerchief when he presents it ; and Rosalind could not doubt whose blood it 
was after the account that had been before given. Steevens : Either reading may 
serve ; and certainly his is not the worst, because it prevents the disgusting repetition 
of the pronoun * this/ with which the present speech is infested. [This is one of the 
examples in Walker's chapter on < the Substitution of Words ' (Crit, i, 317), and on it 
he remarks : < Here the proneness of this and his to supplant each other might facili- 
tate the error.' * This blood ' is weak compared with *■ his blood.' That it is his blood, 
Orlando's very blood, makes Rosalind faint. — Ed.] 

167. Johnson : Celia, in her Hrst fright, forgets Rosalind's character and disguise, 
and calls out < cousin,' then recollects herself, and says, ' Ganymede.' Dyce : But 
< cousin ' is used here merely as a term of familiar address. Capell : Celia's Mght 
makes her almost forget herself; begin, with telling more than she should do; and end, 
with calling Ganimed * cousin,' whom her hearer has call'd < brother/ and believes 
him to be so. The incident that gives birth to this fright, ' the bloody napkin,' has no 
existence in the Novel that fumish'd most of the othenk 



246 AS YOU LIKE IT [act iv. sc. iii. 

I pray you will you take him by the arme. 171 

OIL Be of good cheere youth : you a man? 
You lacke a mans heart. 

Rof. I doe fo, I confeffe it : 
Ah,firra, a body would thinke this was well counterfei- 175 
ted, I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfei- 
ted : heigh-ho. 177 

l^ I. will you] Om, F^F^, Rowe. Mai. [5tV F^, ^. Mai. '90, but corrected 

172-175. Prose, Pope et seq. in Var. *2I.] 



172-175. Prose, Pope et seq. in Var. *2I.] 

l^S. Jirra] Sir Pope+, Cap. Steev. 



171. Cowden-Clarke : Here is another of Shakespeare's subtly characteristic 
touches. Celia, like a true woman for the first time in love, and in love at first sight, 
eagerly takes the opportunity of retaining near her the man she loves, and as gladly 
enlists his services of manly support and kindness on behalf of one dear to her. But 
while indicating this womanly trait in Celia, he at the same time marks her generosity 
of nature, by making her, even in the first moment of awakened interest in Oliver, still 
most mindful of her cousin Rosalind, whom, when she sqqs likely to betray her secret, 
she recalls to herself by the words : < Come, you look paler and paler ; pray you, draw 
homewards.' 

174. I doe so] Lady Martin (p. 432) : The rest of the scene, with the struggle 
between actual physical faintness and the effort to make light of it, touched in by the 
poet with exquisite skill, calls for the most delicate and discriminating treatment in the 
actress. The audience, who are in her secret, must be made to feel the tender, lov- 
ing nature of the woman through the simulated gaiety by which it is veiled ; and yet 
the character of the boy Ganymede must be sustained. This is another of the many 
passages to which the actress of comedy only will never g^ve adequate expression. 
How beautiful it is! 

175. Ah, sirra] Caldecott: Yet scarce more than half in possession of herself, 
in her flutter and tremulous articulation she adds to one word the first letter, or 
article, of the succeeding one. Dyce : ' Sirrah ' was sometimes nothing more than a 
sort of playful familiar address. In / Hen. IV: I, ii, Poins says to the Prince : 
^Sirrahy I have some cases of buckram for the nonce,' &c., compare, too, Rom, &* 
Jul. I, V : ^Ahy sirrah^ this unlook'd-for sport comes well.' ^Ah^ sirrah^ by my fay, 
it waxes late.' [Dyce, in his first edition, added, what he subsequently omitted, Cal- 
decott's note, with the remark that it < could not well be surpassed in absurdity.'] 
White : On recovering herself, Rosalind immediately resumes her boyish sauciness, 
and a little overdoes it. The printing of sir for < sirrah ' by some editors, and the com- 
ments, laboriously from the purpose, of others, who give the original word, must serve 
as the excuse for this note. Moberly : A similar form seems still in use in America 
(without any notion of upbraiding). Rolfe : Moberly apparently refers to the vulgar 
sirretj which is of very recent origin, and of course has no connection with * sirrah.' 

175. a body] Halliwell: It may be worth notice that the term * body' Was for- 
merly used in the way it is here in the text in serious composition. Wright : It is 
common enough in Scotch and provincial dialects, and was once more common still. 
Compare Psalm liii, I (Prayer Book Version) : ' The foolish body hath said in his 
heart.' So in Meas. for Meas. IV, iv, 25 : < an eminent body.' 




ACT IV, sc. ui.] AS YOU LIKE IT 247 

Olu This was not counterfeit, there is too great te- 178 
ftimony in your complexion, that it was a paflion of ear- 
neft. 180 

Rof, Counterfeit, I affure you. 

Olu Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to 
be a man. 

Rof. So I doe : but yfaith, I fhould haue beene a wo- 
man by right. 185 

Cel, Come, you looke paler and paler : pray you draw 
homewards : good fir, goe with vs. 

OH. That will I : for I muft beare anfwere backe 
How you excufe my brother, Ro/alind. 

Rof. I fhall deuife fomething : but I pray you com- 190 
mend my counterfeiting to him : will you goe ? 

Exeunt. 192 

179. a paJfton\ paffion Ff, Rowe. 

181. White {Studies^ &c., p. 256) : When is it that we have seen a stage Rosalind 
that showed us what the Rosalind of our imagination felt at the sight of the bloody 
handkerchief? I never saw but one : Mrs Charles Kean. The last that I saw 
behaved much as if Oliver had shown her a beetle, which she feared might fly upon 
her ; and in the end she turned and clung to Celiacs shoulder. But as Oliver tells his 
story the blood of the real Rosalind runs curdling from her brain to her heart, and she 
swoons away, — falls like one dead, to be caught by the wondering Ohver. Few words 
are spoken, because few are needed ; but this swoon is no brief incident ; and Rosa- 
lind recovers only to be led off by the aid of Celia and Oliver. And here the girl 
again makes an attempt to assert her manhood. She insists that she counterfeited, 
and repeats her assertion. Then here, again, the stage Rosalinds all fail to present her 
as she is. They say < counterfeit ' with at least some trace of a sly smile, and as if 
they did not quite expect or wholly desire Oliver to believe them. But Rosalind was 
in sad and grievous earnest. Never word that she uttered was more sober and serious 
than her < counterfeit, I assure you.' And the fun of the situation, which is never 
absent in As You Like It^ consists in the complex of incongruity, — the absurdity of a 
young swashbuckler's fainting at the sight of a bloody handkerchief, the absurdity 
of Rosalind's protest that her swoon and deadly horror were counterfeit, combining 
with our knowledge of the truth of the whole matter. 



248 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v, sc i. 



A6lus Quintus. Scena Prima. 

Enter Clowne and Awdrie. 

Clow. We Ihall finde a time Awdrie^ patience gen- 
tle Awdrie. 

Awd. Faith the Prieft was good enough, for all the 
olde gentlemans faying. 5 

Clow. A moft wicked Sir OliucTy Awdrie y a moft vile 
Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the 
Forreft layes claime to you. 

Awd. I, I know who 'tis : he hath no intereft in mee 
in the world : here comes the man you meane. lo 

Enter William. 

Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to fee a Clowne, by 
my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to anfwer 
for : we fhall be flouting : we cannot hold. 

Will. Good eu'n Audrey. 15 

And. God ye good eu'n William. 

Will. And good eu'n to you Sir. 

Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer 
thy head : Nay prethee bee eouer'd. How olde are you 
Friend ? 20 

Will. Fiue and twentie Sir. 

Clo. A ripe age : Is thy name William ? 22 

9. in nue] Om. Pope, Han. 15, &c. eu^n] F,. et^n F^F^. even 

11. Enter...] After line 14, Dyce,Sta. Coll. Dyce, Sta. Cam. 
Cam. 16. ye\ give Johns. 

19. eaun'd'] F,. 

5. olde gentlemans] There is nothing disrespectful here in thus speaking of 
Jaques ; it merely gives us a hint of his age. Yet Dingelstedt translates it * der alte 
Murrkopf. ' — Ed. 

12. meat and drinke] Of this common old proverbial phrase Halliwell gives many 
examples, and Wright refers to its repetition in Merry Wives^ I, i, 306. 

14. shall] See I, i, 126. 

14. flouting] MoBERLY : We must needs be jeering people. Wright : We must 
have our joke. 

15, 16. These two appear as < Godden' and ' Godgigoden' in the Qq and Folios 
of Rom. 6* Jul, I, ii, 55, 56. 




ACT V, sc. i.] AS YOU LIKE IT 249 

WUl. WUliafn,{\x. 23 

Clo. A faire name. Was't borne I'th Forreft heere ? 

Will. I fir, I thanke God. 25 

Clo. Thanke God : A good anfwer ; 
Art rich ? 

WUl. 'Faith fir, fo,fo 

Cle. So, fo, is good, very good, very excellent good: 
and yet it is not, it is but fo, fo : 30 

Art thou wife ? 
. Will. I fir, I haue a prettie wit. 

Clo. Why, thou faift well. I do now remember a fay- 
ing : The Foole doth thinke he is wife, but the wifeman 
knowes himfelfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philofo- 35 

pher, when he had a defire to eate a Grape, would open 
his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning there- 
by, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. 
You do loue this maid ? 

WUl. I do fit 40 

26, 27, and throughout, Prosey Pope. 36. defire\ design (so quoted in foot- 

34. wifeman^ wise man Rowe et note) Theob. 
«eq. ^o, /tt'\/irYi. 

34. The Foole, &c.] Moberly : The marrow of the Apologia Socratis condensed 
Into a few words. See Prov, xii, 15. Wordsworth (p. 340) asks, « Is the " say- 
hig " here quoted derived from / Corinthians^ iii, 18 ?' 

34. Wiseman] Cambridge Editors : There can be no doubt that the words wise 
moMf printed as two, in obedience to modem usage, were frequently in Shakespeare's 
time written and pronounced as one word, with the accent on the first syllable, as 
'madman' is still. See Walker {Cri/. ii, 1391). [See I, ii, 83, where this note 
should have also appeared, but was unaccountably omitted. See also Mer. of Fen. I, 
i, 116. Here, too, be another omission supplied, which was discovered only when it 
was too late to change the stereotyped page, and space could be found on that page 
only to refer to this present penitential expiation of the oversight. On p. xxxvi of the 
< Clarendon Edition,' Wright, none of whose words can we afford to lose, has the 
following 'Additional Note* on 'moe,' III, ii, 257 : * The statement that <*moe" is 
used only with the plural requires a slight modification. So far as I am aware, there is 
but one instance in Shakespeare where it is not immediately followed by a plural, and 
that is in Tike Tempest, V, i, 234 (First Folio) : ** And mo diversitie of sounds." But in 
this case also the phrase « diversity of sounds " contains the idea of plurality.* — Ed.] 

38. open] Capell : What he sa3rs of the * heathen philosopher ' is occasion'd by 
seeing his hearer stand gaping (as well he might), sometimes looking at him, some- 

times the maid ; who, says he, is not a grape for your lips When the Poet was 

writing this speech his remembrance was certainly visited by some other expressions 
in Euphues. [See Appendix. ' Phoebe is no lettice for your lippes, and her grapes 
bang so high, that gaze at them you may, but touch them jovl cannot'] 



2SO AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. i. 

Clo. Giue me your hand : Art thou Learned f 41 

Will. No fir. 

Clo. Then leame this of me, To haue, is to haue. For 
it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr^d out 
of a cup into a glafle, by filling the one, doth empty the 45 

other. For all your Writers do confent, that ip/e is hee : 
now you are not ip/ey for I am he. 

Wm. Which he fir? 

Clo. He fir, that muft marrie this woman: Therefore 
you Clowne, abandon : which is in the vulgar, leaue the 50 

focietie : which in the boorifli, is companie, of this fe- 
male : which in the common, is woman : which toge- 
ther, is, abandon the fociety of this Female, or Clowne 
thou perifheft : or to thy better vnderftanding, dyeft ; or 
(to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, tranflate thy life in- 55 

to death, thy libertie into bondage : I will deale in poy- 
fon with thee, or in baftinado, or in fteele : I will bandy 
with thee in faftion, I will ore-run thee with police: I 58 

43, 49. Clo.] Col. F,. Steev. '93, Dyce iii. 

54» 55' ^ {^^ wUy] to wit Farmer, 58. police] policy Yi ti cei, 

56. poyson] Warburton's far-fetched idea, that < all this seems an allusion to Sir 
Thomas Overbury's affair,* was properly refuted by Heath, who recalled the date of 
Sir Thomas Overbury's * affair,' which * did not break out till 1 61 5, long after Shake- 
speare had quitted the stage and within a year or a little more of his death.' 

57. bastinado] Wright : This spelling has been adopted in modern times. But 
Cotgrave gives : ' Bastonnade : f. A bastonadoe ; a banging or beating with a cudgell.* 
Florio {Ital. Diet.) has : * Bastonata, a bastonado, or cudgell blow.' 

57. bandy] Skeat : To beat to and fro, to contend. Shakespeare has bandy^ to 
contend. Tit. And. 1, 312, but the older sense is to beat to and fro, as in Rom. ^ Jul. 
II, V, 14. It was a term used at tennis, and was formerly also spelt band^ as in * To 
band the ball.' — Turberville. The only difficulty is to account for the final -y ; I sus- 
pect it to be a corruption of the Fr. bander (or bandi)^ the Fr. word being taken as a 
whole y instead of being shortened by dropping -er in the usual manner ; Fr. ' bander^ to 
bind, fasten with strings ; also to bandie^ at tennis.' — Cotgrave. He also gives : < Jouer 
k bander et k racier contre, to bandy against, at tennis ; and (by metaphor) to pursue 
with all insolencie, rigour, extremitie.' Also : < Se bander contre, to bandie or oppose 
himselfe against, with his whole power ; or to ioyne in league with others against.' 
Also ; * lis se bandent k faire un entreprise, they are ploting a conspiracie together.' 
The word is therefore the same as that which appears as band^ in the phrase *to band 
together.' The Fr. bander is derived from the Ger. band^ a band, a tie, and also 
includes the sense of Ger. bande^ a crew, a gang. 

58. police] This is one of the many examples in Walker's chapter {Crit. ii, 48) 
on the confusion of / and it final. 



ACT V. sc. il] AS YOU LIKE IT 251 

will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore trem- 
ble and depart. 60 

Aud. Do good William. 

Will, God reft you merry fir. Exit 

Enter Conn. 

Cor. Our Mafter and Miftrefle feekes you : come a- 
way,away. 65 

Clo. Trip Audryy trip Audry^ I attend, 
I attend. Exeunt 67 



Sc(Bna Secunda. 

Enter Orlando & Oliuer. 
Orl. Is't poflible, that on fo little acquaintance you 2 

61. Do\ Do, Rowe. 64. feekes\ F,. feeks F^F^, Knt, Dyce 

62. you merry] you merry, Rowe et i, Sta, Cam. Wh. ii. seek Rowe et cet 
seq. 66. Audry] F,. Audrey F^F^. 

64. seekes] Again that obtrusive s to which our attention ifi so often directed in 
the Folio. Whatever it be, a compositor's oversight or a flourish in Shakespeare's 
handwriting, it is not, as far as Shakespeare is concerned^ ' that figment of the gram- 
marians,* so says Wright in happy phrase, the old Northern plural in s. See I, ii, loi. 
Abbott ingeniously suggests that * being indicated by a mere line at the end of a 
word in MS, it was often confused with the comma, full stop, dash, or hyphen.'— 
§ 338. Sometimes, of course, the rhyme shows that it is genuinely present. — Ed. 

1. Dyce: Here, perhaps, the Scene ought to be marked: 'Another part of the 
Forest. Before a Cottage.' 

2. possible] Steevens : Shakespeare, by putting this question into the mouth of 
Orlando, seems to have been aware of the impropriety he had been guilty of by desert- 
ing his original. In Lodge's Novel the elder brother is instrumental in saving Aliena 
from a band of rufHans. Without the intervention of this circumstance, the passion 
of Aliena appears to be very hasty indeed. Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833, 
p. 558) : Dr Johnson saith : ' I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with 
which both Rosalind and Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be for- 
given for the heroism of her friendship.' The ladies, we ^re sure, have forgiven 
Rosalind. What say they to Celia ? They look down, blush, shake head, smile, and 
say, ' Celia knew Oliver was Orlando's brother, and in her friendship for Rosalind she 
felt how delightful it would be for them two to be sisters-in-law as well as cousins. 
Secondly, Oliver had made a narrow escape of being stung by a serpent and devoured 
by a lionness, and " pity is akin to love." Thirdly, he had truly repented him of his 
former wickedness. Fourthly, 'twas religiously done by him, that settlement of all 
the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's upon Orlando. Fifthly, what but true love, 



252 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iL 

Ihould like her f that, but feeing, you (hould loue her ? 3 

And louing woo ? and wooing, (he (hould graunt ? And 

will you perfeuer to enioy her ? S 

01. Neither call the giddineflfe of it in queftion ; the 
pouertie of her, the fmall acquaintance, my fodaine wo- 7 

5. per/euer] F,, Cap. Steev. Var. Cald. Ktly, Huds. Rife, per/evere F^F^, Rowe 
Knt, Coll. i, Sing. Wh. Dyce, Sta. Cam. +, Mai. Coll. iii. 

following true contrition, could have impelled him thus to give all up to his younger 
brother, and desire to marry Aliena, <* who, with a kind of umber, had smirched her 
face," a woman low and browner than her brother ? Sixthly, " tell me where is fancy 
bred ?" At the eyes.* Thank thee, ma douce philosopht. There is a kiss for thee, 
flimg off the rainbow of our Flamingo ! Hartley Coleridge (ii, p. 144) : I con- 
fess I know nothing in Shakespeare so improbable, or, truth to say, so unnatural, as 
the sudden conversion of Oliver from a worse than Cain, a coward fratricide in will, 
to a generous brother and a romantic lover. Neither gratitude nor love works such , 

wonders with the Olivers of real life Romance is all very well in the Forest of 

Arden, but Oliver is made too bad in the first scenes ever to be worthy of Celia, or 
capable of inspiring a kindly interest in his reformation. Celia .... should at least 
have put his repentance on a twelvemonth's trial. But in the Fifth Act ladies have no 
time for discretion. Swinburne {A Study^ &c., p. 151) : Nor can it well be worth 
any man's while to say or to hear for the thousandth time that As You Like It would 
be one of those works which prove, as Landor said long since, the falsehood of the 
stale axiom that no work of man's can be perfect, were it not for that one unlucky slip 
of the brush which has left so ugly a little smear on one comer of the canvas as the 
betrothal of Oliver to Celia ; though with all reverence for a great name and a noble 
memory, I can hardly think that matters were much mended in George Sand's adap- 
tation of the play by the transference of her hand to Jaques. Once elsewhere, or 
twice only at the most, is any other such sacrifice of moral beauty or spiritual harmony 
to the necessities and traditions of the stage discernible in all the world-wide work 
of Shakespeare. In the one case it is unhappily undeniable ; no man's conscience, 
no conceivable sense of right and wrong, but must more or less feel as did Coleridge's 
the double violence done it in the upshot ol Meas. for Mecu. Even in the much more 
nearly spotless work which we have next to glance at \^Much Ado"], some readers 
have perhaps not unreasonably found a similar objection to the final good fortune of 
such a pitiful fellow as Count Claudio. It will be observed that in each case the sac- 
rifice is made to comedy. The actual or hypothetical necessity of pairing off all the 
couples after such a fashion as to secure a nominally happy and undeniably matri- 
monial ending is the theatrical idol whose tyranny exacts this holocaust of higher and 
better feelings than the more liquorish desire to leave the board of fancy with a palat- 
able morsel of cheap sugar on the tongue. 

5. perseuer] Wright : The common spelling in Shakespeare's time, the accent 
being on the second syllable. The only exception to the uniformity of this spelling, 
given by Schmidt {Lexicon), is in Lear, III, y^ 23, where the Qq have perseifere and 
the Ff periever, [As is seen by the Text Notes, this spelling did not last down to 
Z664.] 

7. of her] For other instances of the use of the pxxxumn for the pronominal adjec- 
tive, see Abbott, $ 225. 



ACT V. sc. u.] AS YOU LIKE IT 253 

ing, nor fockine confenting : but fay with mee, I loue 8 

Aliena : fay with her, that fhe loues mee ; confent with 

both, that we may enioy each other : it fhall be to your 10 

good : for my fathers houfe, and all the reuennew, that 

was old Sir Rowlands will I eftate vpon you, and heere 

liue and die a Shepherd. 

Enter Ro/alind. 

Orl. You haue my confent. 15 

Let your Wedding be to morrow : thither will I 
Inuite the Duke, and all's contented followers: 
Go you, and prepare Aliena] for looke you, 
Heere comes my Rofalinde. 

Rof. God faue you brother. 20 

OL And you faire fifter. 

8. nor] Ff, Knt nor her Rowc ct cet. 1 7. alVs] Yi, Rowe, Coll. Wh. Dyce, 

14. Enter...] After line 17, Coll. Cam. a// ^u Pope et cet. 

After line 19, Dyce. 19. [Exit Oliver. Hal. 

15-19. As verse, Ff, Rowe, Coll. As 21. OL] Orl. F^F^, Rowc i, Hal. 

prose, Pope et cet [Exit Oliver. Ci^. 

8. nor Bodaine] Knight is the solitary editor who retains this reading, which can- 
not but be a misprint ; even with Knight it is apparently an oversight ; he has no note 
on it, and he rarely fails to plead his loyalty to the Folio. Caldecott, who is a greater 
stickler for the Folio than even Knight, here falls into line and prints ' nor her sud- 
den.' — Ed. 

12. estate] For other instances of the use of this verb in the sense of bestow^ settle^ 
see Schmidt 

21. faire sister] Johnson: I know not why Oliver should call Rosalind 'sister.' 
He takes her yet to be a man. I suppose we should read : 'And you, and your fair 
sister.' Chamier : Oliver speaks to her in the character she had assumed, of a 
woman courted by Orlando, his brother. White : Much wonder is expressed as to 
how the knowledge of Rosalind's sex, which this reply evinces, was obtained ; and 
forgetfulness is attributed to Shakespeare. But those who wonder must themselves 
forget that since the end of the last Act Oliver has wooed and won Celia ; for to 8U]>- 
pose that she kept Rosalind's secret from him one moment longer than was necessary 
to give her own due precedence, would be to exhibit an ignorance in such matters 
quite deplorable. Dyce : To me none of these notes is satisfactory. Halliwell : 
The words in the text seem, under any explanation, improperly assigned to Oliver, 
who had probably taken his departure just previously. All difficulty is obviated by 
giving them to Orlando. [But would Rosalind address Orlando as < brother ' ? — Ed.] 
Cowden-Clarke : Oliver has a double reason for calling Rosalind ' sister ' : he calls 
her so, because she is the girlish-looking brother of the woman he hopes to marry, 
and because she is the youth whom his own brother courts under the name of a 
woman. It should be remembered, that in the very first scene where they meet, 



254 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. ii. 

Rof. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to fee 22 

thee weare thy heart in a fcarfe. 

Orl. It is my arme. 

Rof. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with 25 

the clawes of a Lion. 

OrL Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady 

Rof. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted 
to found, when he (hew'd me your handkercher? 

Orl. I, and greater wonders then that 30 

Rof. O, I know where you are : nay, tis true : there 
was neuer any thing fo fodaine, but the fight of two 
Rammes, and Ce/ars Thrafonicall bragge of I came, faw, 
and ouercome. For your brother, and my fifter, no foo- 
ner met, but they look'd : no fooner look'd, but they 35 

lou'd ; no fooner lou'd, but they figh'd : no fooner figh'd 

29. /ound'\ F,F^, Cald. Knt. /wound 32. fight'\ fight F^. 

F^, Rowe. swoon Pope et cet. 34. ouercome\ ouercame Ff, Rowe et 

handkercher\ F^F^, Dyce, Cam. seq. 
handkerchief F^, Rowe et cet. 

Oliver thus addresses her : ' I must bear answer back how you excuse my brother, 
Rosalind.^ He at once acknowledges the assumed character, humours its assumption 
by giving her the name she is supposed to assume, and now follows up this playful 
make-believe by giving her the title and relationship she has a claim to, as the feigned 
Rosalind. Wright : Oliver enters into Orlando's humour in regarding the apparent 
Ganymede as Rosalind. [The explanation of the Cowden-Clarkes and of Wright carry 
conviction. Gervinus has here one of those disheartening remarks (in which it must 
be sadly confessed he abounds) which reveal his incapacity, partly owing to his 
nationality, thoroughly to appreciate Shakespeare. He says (i, 492, ed. 1872), * Noth- 
ing prevents us from so interpreting the action as to see that Orlando, at Oliver's sug- 
gestion, after the fainting fit, has detected the disguise of the fair Ganymede, and 
suffers him to play the game through to the end only that his joy may not be marred ; 
if this can be made clear in the performance, the exquisite delicacy (FeinheU) of the 
play will be extraordinarily increased.' — Ed.] 

29. sound] See III, v, 19. 

31. where you are] Wright: I know what you mean, what you are hinting at 
[Hamlet uses the same phrase, I think, when he says, 'Ah, ha, boy ! say'st thou so ? 
art thou there, true-penny ?' — I, v, 150. He does not refer to his father's being in the 
* cellarage,' but rather * is that yoiu* meaning ? there is need of secresy ?' — Ed.] 

33. Thrasonicall] Farmer (note on Love's Lab. Z. V, i, 14) : The use of this 
word is no argument that our author had read [the Eunuchus of] Terence. It was 
introduced to our language long before Shakespeare's time. Malone : It is found in 
Bullokar's Expositor y l6i6. Halliwell: Stanyhurst, 1 582, writes: * Linckt was in 
wedlock a loftye Thrasonical huf snufTe' — [p. 143, ed. Arber]. Compare, also, 
Orlando Furioso^ 1594 : * Knowing him to be a Thrasonical madcap,' &c. 



M 



ACT V. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 255 

but they ask'd one another the reafon : no fooner knew 37 

the reafon, but they fought the remedie: and in thefe 
degrees, haue they made a paire of ftaires to marriage, 
which they will climbe incontinent, or elfe bee inconti- 40 

nent before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of 
loue, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part 
them. 

OrL They (hall be married to morrow: and I will 
bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing 45 

it IS, to looke into happines through another mans eies : 
by fo much the more (hall I to morrow be at the height 
of heart heauineflfe. by how much I (hal thinke my bro- 
ther happie,in hauing what he wi(hes for. 49 

46, 47. eus : by] eyes ! By Cap. et seq. 

39. degrees] Cowden-Clarke : Used here in its original sense as derived from 
the Latin gradtiSf and French degri^ a step ; which affords the pun with the word 
* stairs* immediately after. 

39. paire of staires] H. C. Hart {New Sh. Soc, Trans. 1877-9, P^- J"» P* 47') 
believes that in this phrase there lurks an allusion to wedlock which time has lost ; it 
reappears in the phrase * below stairs' {Much Ado^ V, ii, 10), in which, Hart says, 
' there is always some hidden meaning ' ; in proof whereof he brings forward several 
examples from Jonson and Chapman. It is more than likely that he is right in regard 
to the phrase ' below stairs,' which cannot always be explained by reference to the 
servants' hall. But in the present passage the simile is so clear, that though some 
allusion may be hid in it, we scarcely feel the lack of our knowledge of it. — Ed. 

40. incontinent] Caldecott : Without restraint or delay, immediately. 

42. Clubbes] Malone : It appears from many of our old dramas that it was a 
common custom, on the breaking out of a fray, to call out ' Clubs 1 clubs !' io part the 
combatants. So in 71^. And. II, i, 37 : ' Qubs, clubs ! these lovers will not keep the 
peace.' The words * they are in the very wrafh of love * show that our author had 
this in contemplation. Mason : So in Henry VIII: V, iv, 53 : * I missed the meteor 
once, and hit that woman; who cried out " Clubs !" when I might see from far some 
forty truncheoners draw to her succour.' Knight (Note on Rom. ^ Jul. I, i, 66) : 
Scott has made the cry familiar to us in Tlie Fortunes of Nigel. * The great long 
club,' as described by Stow, on the necks of the London apprentices, was as charac- 
teristic as the flat cap of the same quarrelsome body in the da}'S of Elizabeth and 
James. Dyce: 'Clubs* was originally the pgpular cry to call forth the London 
apprentices, who employed their clubs for the preservation of the public peace ; some- 
times, however, they used these weapons to raise a disturbance, as they are described 
as doing [in the foregoing example from Henry VIII']. 

45. Nuptiall] Wright : The plural form, which is now the prevailing one, is used 
only twice by Shakespeare : in Per. V, iii, 80 and in 0th. II, ii, 9. In the latter pas- 
sage the Ff have the singular, while the Qq read nuptialls. [In Mid. N. D. V, i, 75, 
the First Folio has the singular, while the three later Ff have the plural, as noted by 
Schmidt.] 



256 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. u. 

Rof, Why then to morrow, I cannot feme your tume 50 

for Ro/alind} 

Orl, I can liue no longer by thinking. 

Rof. I will wearie you then no longer with idle tal- 
king. Know of me then (for now I fpeake to fome pur- 
pofe) that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit: 55 

I fpeake not this, that you (hould beare a good opinion 
of my knowledge : infomuch (I fay) I know you arc:nei- 
ther do I labor for a greater efteeme then may in fome 
little meafure draw a beleefe from you, to do your felfe 
good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you pleafe, 60 

that I can do ftrange things : I haue fince I was three 
yeare olde conuerft with a Magitian, mod profound in 62 

57. I know you] I know what you 62, yeare] F,. years F^ Rowe + 

Rowe + . Steev. Mai. Coll. Sing. Ktly. year F^ 

arc] F,. Cap. et cet. 

54-57. Know . . . arc] Whiter (p. 58) : This thought we find in Ham, V, ii, 
134: *Osru. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is. Ham. I dare not 
confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence ; but, to know a man well, 
were to know himself.' 

55. conceit] ScHMmT : Rosalind says this to Orlando in order to convince him 
of her pretended knowledge of mysteries. It cannot therefore be equivalent to a 
gentleman of good parts, of wit ; for there ' needs no magician to tell her this.' 
[Schmidt's definition, therefore, of 'conceit' in this passage (and his note in his 
translation (p. 461) is substantially the same) is ' extraction, birth,' but he indicates 
his doubt of its correctness by placing after * birth ' an interrogation-mark. In this 
instance, as elsewhere, there are indications, I think, that Schmidt held, and deserv- 
edly held. Heath in high regard ; but here, however, I am afraid Heath led him 
slightly astray. Heath's definition of 'conceit' here is, <of good estimation and 
rank.' — Ed.] Craik {Jul, Qts. I, iii, 142) : To conceit is another form of our still 
familiar conceive. And the noun 'conceit,' which survives with a limited mean- 
ing (the conception of a man by himself, which is so apt to be one of over-estima- 
tion), is also fi^quent in Shakespeare, with the sense, nearly, of what we now call 
conception^ in general. Sometimes it is used in a sense which might almost be said 
to be the opposite of what it now means ; as when Juliet employs it as the term to 
denote her all-absorbing affection for Romeo, II, v, 30. Or as Gratiano uses it in 
Mer. of Ven. I, i, 102, that is, in the sense of deep thought. So, again, .when Rosa- 
line, in Love's Lab. L. II, i, speaking of Biron, describes his * fair tongue ' as < con- 
ceit's expositor,' all that she means is that speech is the expounder of thought The 
scriptural expression, still in familiar use, ' wise in his own conceit,' means merely 
wise in his own thought or in his own eyes, as we are told in the margin the Hebrew 
literally signifies. Wright : Of good intelligence or mental capacity. Shakespeare 
never uses the word in its modem sense. 

62. yeare] Wright: F^ had already 'years,* or the change would have been 
made by Pope, on the ground that the singular was vulgar. See III, ii, 507. 



ACT V. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 257 

his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue Rofalinde 63 

fo neere the hart, as your gefture cries it out : when your 
brother marries Aliena, (hall you marrie her. I know in- 65 

to what ftraights of Fortune (he is driuen, and it is not 
impoflTible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you, 
to fet her before your eyes to morrow, humane as (he is, 
and without any danger. 

OrL Speak'ft thou in fober meanings ? 70 

Rof. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though 

63. Artl^ heart F^. 65. Jkall you\ F,. you JkaU FjF^, 

64. cries iV] cryeth Cap. conj. Rowe + , Steev. 

70. meanings\ meaning Dyce iii. 

64. gesture] Bearing. 

68. humane] Johnson : That is, not a phantom, but the real Rosalind, without 
any of the danger generally conceived to attend the rites of incantation. 

Fletcher (p. 224) [on 11. 53-69] : Here we have another of those exquisite pas- 
sages which no masculine hand but Shakespeare*s could ever write, and which so 
charmingly betray to the auditor the delicate woman under her masculine garb. It is 
pretty to contrast the rapid, pointed volubility of Rosalind, so long as Orlando's courtship 
is carried on in seeming jest, with the circumlocutory manner in which, speaking now, 
as she says, * to some purpose,' she announces to him that he shall so soon be married 

if he will Every female reader, and especially every female auditor, if the 

actress's own instinct lead her aright, will well understand this delicately-rendered 
coyness of the speaker in approaching seriously so decisive a declaration to her lover, 
even under the mask of her fictitious personation. 

70. meanings] Again the superfluous 5 which Walker {Crit. i, 248) detected, and 
Dyce (ed. iii) at once erased. 

71. deerly] Steevens : It was natural for one who called herself a magician to 
allude to the danger [to her life from the Acts of Parliament] in which her avowal, 
had it been a serious one, would have involved her. [Warburton inferred from this 
allusion that this play * was written in James's time, when there was a severe inquisi- 
tion after witches and magicians.' But Malone, having shown that the play was 
entered on the Stationers' Registers as early as 1600, it followed that there could be 
here no allusion to the Act of James, but if there be an allusion at all, it must be to 
the Act then in force, which was passed under Elizabeth ; this Act is thus cited, with 
an abstract, by] Wright: By 5 Eliza, cap. 16, *An Act agaynst Conjuracons, 
Inchantmentes, and Witchccrafles,' it was enacted that all persons using witchcraft, 
&c., whereby death ensued, should be put to death without benefit of clergy. If the 
object of the witchcraft were to cause bodily harm, the punishment was, for the first 
offence, one year's imprisonment and pillory; and for the second, death. To use 
witchcraft for the purpose of discovering treasure or to provoke unlawful love was an 
offence punishable upon the first conviction with a year's imprisonment and pillory, 
and upon the second with imprisonment for life and forfeiture of goods. This Act , 
was repealed by another, I Jac. I, cap. 12, which was even more severe. By this any 
one invoking or consulting with evil spirits and practising witchcraft was to be put to 
death ; and for attempting by means of conjurations to discover hidden treasure or to 

17 



258 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iu 

I lay I am a Magitian : Therefore put you in your beft a- 72 

ray, bid your friends : for if you will be married to mor- 
row, you fhall : and to Rofalind if you will. 

Enter Siluius & Phebe. 75 

Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers. 

Phe, Youth, you haue done me much vngentleneffe, 
To fhew the letter that I writ to you. 

Rof, I care not if I haue : it is my ftudie 
To feeme defpightfuU and vngentle to you : 80 

you are there followed by a faithful fhepheard, 
Looke vpon him, loue him : he worfliips you. 

Phe. Good ftiepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue 

SU. It is to be all made of fighes and teares, 
And fo am I for Phebe. 85 

Phe. And I for Ganimed. 

OrL And I for Rofalind. 

Rof. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and feruice, 
And fo am I for Phebe. 90 

Phe. And I for Ganimed. 

Orl. And I for Rofalind. 

Rof. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of fantafie. 

All made of paffion, and all made of wiflies, 95 

All adoration, dutie, and obferuance, 
• 

72. put you wj] put you on Rowe + , 84. all made] F,. made all F F^, 
Steev/85. Rowe + , Steev/85. 

75. Scene III. Pope, Han. Warb. 89. all made] made all Rowe + , 
Johns. Steev. *85. 

Enter...] After line 76, Cap. Dyce, 96. obferuance] obferbance F,. obe- 

Sta. dience Coll. (MS) ii, iii,"Wh. i, Dyce, Rife. 

procure unlawful love the punishment was one year's imprisonment and pillory for the 
first offence, and for the second, death. 

73. bid] More than one editor has thought it best to explain the meaning of this 
word here and in line 45. But surely the New Testament has made us all familiar 
with it. — Ed. 

76. comes] See I, ii, 113. 

82. vpon him] Abbott, § 483, calls attention to the emphasis thrown by the rhythm 
on this * him.* 

94. fantasie] Craik i^Jul, Cas. p. 167) : That is, fancy or imagination, with its 
unaccountable anticipations and apprehensions, as opposed to the calculations of 
reason. [See II, iv, 32.] 




ACT V. sc. ii.] AS YOU LIKE IT 259 

All humbleneffe, all patience, and impatience, 97 

All puritie, all triall,all obferuance: 
And fo am I for Phebe. 

Phe, And fo am I for Ganimed, 100 

OrL And fo am I for Rofalind. 

Rof. And fo am I for no woman. 

Phe. If this be fo, why blame you me to loue you ? 

Sil, If this be fo, why blame you me to loue you ? 104 

98. ob/eruancel obedience Mai. conj. 103. [To Ros.] Pope et seq. 

Raxm. endurance Harness conj. Sing. 104. [To Phe.] Pope et seq. 

Ktlj, Huds. 

98. all obseniance] Ritson : Read obeisance. Heath (p. 153) : As the word 

* observance * had been already employed but two lines before, might not the poet pos- 
sibly have written in this place * 2\\ perseverance y which follows very aptly after * trial * ? 
Capell approves of this emendation of Heath's, and calls attention to the accent, 
which is perseverance; Rann adopted it. Malone: 1 suspect our author wrote: 

* all obedience.^ Harness : Perhaps endurance might be more in harmony with the 
context ; Singer adopted it ; and of it Collier (ed. ii) says : * It may be a very 
good word, but it is not Shakespeare's ; he uses it only twice in his thirty-seven plays, 
and then not as applied to the sufferings of a lover; whereas he has " obedience " in 
fifty places.' According to Collier's * old corrector ' it is the preceding * observance * 
in line 96 that is wrong, and that * observance ' was changed by him into obedience^ 

* which,' adds Collier, * more properly follows " duty " than " trial." * This obedience 
White also adopted, because : ' Obedience to the wishes of the beloved is one of the 
first fruits and surest indices of love, one which in such an enumeration could not be 
passed over ; and yet according to the text of the Folio it is not mentioned, while 
"observance" is specified twice in three lines. Such a repetition is not in Shake- 
speare's manner, for although he had peculiarities, senseless iteration was not one of 
them.' In his second edition White returns to the Folio with the remark that although 
*the word is corrupt, no acceptable substitute has been suggested.' Walker {Crit. 
i, 280) thinks Ritson's conjecture preferable. [The Cambridge Edition records 

* deservancCy Nicholson conj.* Whether or not this conjecture is elsewhere in print, I 
do not know, nor who is the Nicholson. If it be Dr Brinsley Nicholson, the con- 
jecture is worthy of all respect, as any conjecture hoai that source always is. We 
shall all agree, I think, that one of these two ' observances ' must be wrong ; for two 
reasons it is more likely to be the second than the first : where it occurs in line 96 it 
is * appropriately associated,' Wright says, * with adoration and duty ;' to * observe * 
meant to < regard with respectful attention,' as where Hamlet is spoken of as ' the 
observed of all observers ' ; this usage lasted even to Milton's time ; in Par. Lost 
(xi, 817) Noah is spoken of as *the one just man of God observed.* Secondly, 
there is the compositor's common error of repetition. Of the substitutes that have 
been proposed, I think the weight of probability lies with obedience, not alone on the 
score of propriety, but on account of the ductus literarum, wherein it much resembles 

* observance.' — Ed.] 

103, &c. to loue] The infinitive is here used as we have had it several times before 
in this play. We should now use the participle withy^ or in. See I, i, 109. 



26o AS YOU LIKE IT [act v, sc. iu 

Orl, If this be fo, why blame you me to loue you ? 105 

Rof. Why do you fpeake too, Why blame you mee 
to loue you. 

OrL To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare. 

Rof. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling 
of Irifh Wolues againft the Moone : I will helpe you no 
if I can : I would loue you if I could : To morrow meet 
me altogether : I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie Wo- 
man, and He be married to morrow : I will fatisfie you, 
if euer I fatisfi'd man, and you fhall bee married to mor- 
row. I wil content you, if what pleafes you contents 115 
you, and you fhal be married to morrow : As you loue 
Rofalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no 117 

106. ?f%^... /<?£?] Ff,Cald.G)ll.i,Dyce, 114. tomorrow'] tomorrow [To Orl.] 

Wright, Rife. Whom. ..to Sing. Who.., Pope et seq. 
tOf Rowe et cet. fatisfi'd'\ satisfy Douce, Dyce iii, 

111. can] can [To Orl.] Johns, can Huds. 

[To Sil.] Cap. et seq. 1 16. to morrow] tomorrow [To Sil.] 

could] could [To Phe.] Johns, et seq. Pope et seq. 

112. altogether] all together Rowe et 117. Rofalind] Rosalind [To Or!.] 
seq. Johns, et seq. 

113. to morrow] tomorrow [To Phe.] Vh&h^meet] Phebe meet \To Sil.] 
Pope et seq. Johns, et seq. 

io6. Why . , , too] Collier (ed. i) : This reading is perfectly intelligible when 
addressed to Orlando, who replies that he speaks too, notwithstanding the absence of 
his mistress. If altered, it need not be altered, as by the modem editors, to bad 
English : * Who do you speak to?' Collier (ed. ii) ; Here again we follow the (MS), 
the old text being : * Why do you speak too ?' The grammar is defective, according 
to the strictness of modern rules, but perfectly intelligible, and no doubt what Shake- 
peare wrote : * Whom do you,' &c. is a modem colloquial refinement. [I cannot see 
the trace of a sufficient reason for deserting the Folio. — Ed.] 

no. Irish Wolues] Malone: This is borrowed from Lodge's Novel: *I tell 
thee, Montanus, in courting Phoebe, thou barkest with the wolves of Syria against the 
moone.' [See Appendix.] Caldecott : That is, the same monotonous chime weari- 
somely and sickeningly repeated. In the passage to which Malone refers it imports 
an aim at impossibilities, a sense, which, whatever may be Rosalind's meaning, can- 
not very well be attached to it here. Wright : In Ireland wolves existed as late as 
the beginning of the last century. Spenser, in his View of the Present State of IrC' 
land (p. 634, Globe ed.), mentions some of the Irish superstitions connected with the 
wolf. [The clue to this allusion is probably lost. There were wolves in England 
which presumably howled against the moon quite as monotonously or dismally as in 
Ireland. We know well that a wolf * behowled the moon ' on one certain Midsum- 
mer's Night. But these are Irish wolves— can there be an adumbration of the Irish 
wailings ? The loan from Lodge, which Malone alleges, is not so manifest. It is a 
far cry, or, rather, a far * bark,' from Syria to Ireland, and, as Caldecott says, the two 
phrases are dissimilar in meaning. — Ed.] 



ACT V. sc. iii.] AS VOW LIKE IT 261 

woman, He meet : fo fare you wel : I haue left you com- 1 18 
mands. 

Sil. He not faile, if I Hue. 120 

Phe. Nor I. 

OrL Nor I. Exeunt 122 



Sc(Bna Tertia. 



Enter Clowne and Atidrey. 

Clo. To morrow is the ioyfuU day Audrey y to morrow 
will we be married. 

Aud. I do defire it with all my heart: and I hope it is 
no difhoneft defire, to defire to be a woman of y world? 5 

Heere come two of the banifh'd Dukes Pages. 

Enter two Pages. 

I. Pa. Wel met honeft Gentleman. 

C/o. By my troth well met : come, fit, fit, and a fong. 

2. Pa, We are for you, fit i'th middle. lO 

I. Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking. 

Scene IV. Pope, Han. Warb. Johns. $. world F'\ F,Fj. world. F^ et seq. 

I, &c. Qowne] Touchstone Mai. et 10. you^ Jit'\ you. Sit Johns, et seq. 
seq. (subs.). 

118. you commands] Allen (MS) : I suspect that the compositor has left out 
your here as a repetition : * I have left you your commands/ just as an officer would 
now say : * I have given you your orders.* 

5. dishonest] As we have had * honest * in the sense of ckaste in I, ii, 38; III, ii, 
I5» so here ' dishonest ' means unchasU. Wright : In * the character of the persons * 
prefixed to Ben Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour^ Fallace is described : * She 
dotes as perfectly upon the courtier, as her husband doth on her, and only wants the 
face to be dishonest.' 

5. world] Steevens : To go to the world is to be married. So in Much Ado^ II, 

'^iZZ^'' * Thus goes every one to the world but I I may sit in a comer and cry 

heigh-ho for a husband!' Whiter: So also in AWs Welly I, iii, 20: *If I may 
have your Ladyship's good will to go to the world.' [Dyce defines it * to commence 
housekeeper,' which is good as a hint of what, it may be presumed, is the origin of the 
phrase : when a yotmg couple married and set up for themselves,, they really entered 
the world and its ways for the first time. — Ed.] 

10. sit i'th middle] Dingelstedt (p. 234) : This is clearly a reference to an 
old English proverb \^Sprichwort'\ : * hey diddle diddle, fool in the middle.' [See 
Roflfe's note below, on line 16.] 

II. clap into't] Schmidt: To enter upon, to begin with alacrity and briskness. 
Thus, Meas.for Meas. IV, iii, 43 : ' I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, 



262 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act V, sc. uL 



or fpitting, or faying we are hoarfc, which are the onely 
prologues to a bad voice. 

2. Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two 
gipfies on a horfe. 

Song. 
// was a Louery and his lajfe^ 

With a heyy and a hOy and a hey noninOj 
T/iat dre the greene cornefeild did pajfe^ 



12 



IS 



19 



12. the <mely\ only the Cap. conj. 
Huds. your only Wh. i. 



i8, 20, 21. As two lines each, Cap. 
19. feild^ F.. 



look you, the warrant's come ' ; Much Ado^ III, iv, 44 : * Clap's into " Light o* Love," 
that goes without a burden.* 

12. the onely] White (ed. i) : Hawking and spitting are often only the prologues 
to a bad voice ; but no one .... can consider them the only premonitory symptoms 
of that inflection, and it does not appear that * the only * was an old idiom for only 
the. Your only^ meaning the chief, the principal, was, however, an idiom in common 
use; and it seems plain that it is here intended, the printer having mistaken^ iox y*. 
White (ed. ii) : * The only,' as if without * the ' ; only prologues. [See I, ii, 185.] 

14, 15. a tune ... a horse] That is, one. Compare < Doth not rosemary and 
Romeo both begin with a letter.* — Rom. ^ Jul. II, iv, 188. 

16. Song] The music, with the words, which is here reprinted is taken from Chap- 
pell's Popular Music of the Olden Time^ p. 205. The transposition of the stanzas 
which we find here was also independently made by Dr Johnson, who says that it 
had been also ' made by Dr Thirlby in a copy containing some notes on the margin ' 
which Dr Johnson had * perused by the favour of Sir Edward Walpole.' Malone's 
slighting remark (in reference to Steevens's conjectiu^), that * the passage does not 
deserve much consideration,' is expanded by Tieck into a very positive sneer. * It is 
not impossible,' says Tieck (p. 212), 'that the arrangement of the stanzas of this 
utterly silly ditty may have been intentionally adopted in the Folio to produce this 
confused effect.' — Ed. Chappell : [This Song is taken] from a Qto MS, which 
has successively passed through the hands of Mr Cranston, Dr John I^yden, and Mr 
Heber ; and is now in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh. It contains about thirty- 
four songs with words (among them the * Farewell, dear love,* quoted in Twelfth 
Night) y and sixteen song and dance tunes without. The latter part of the MS, which 
bears the name of a former proprietor, William Stirling, and the date of May, 1639, 
consists of Psalm Tunes, evidently in the same handwriting, and written about the 
same time as the earlier portion. .... The words used here are printed from the MS 
in the Advocates' Library. 




It w as a lover and his lass, with a hey, with a ho, with a hey 

i 



non ne 





ACT V, sc. iii.] 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



263 



[Song] 





no. And a hey . . . non ne no ni no. 



That o'er the green com*field did pass In 



spring time, in spring time, in spring time ; The only pretty ring time. When birds do sing. Hey 




ding a ding a ding. Hey ding a ding a ding. Hey ding a ding a ding, Sweet lovers love the spring. 
:« ^-^ ^ -^ 



S=t 



^ 



^ 



i 



± 



^ 



± 



[In the words which accompany the music, as given by Chappell, the chiefest varia- 
tions are * ring t\me ' instead of * rang tune ' ; line 23 reads : • Then, pretty lovers, 
take the time ' ; line 29 is : * These pretty country ^t?i[f did lie ' ; and line 33 : * How 
that life was but a flower.'] Knight : It seems quite clear that this manuscript can- 
not have been written later than sixteen years after the publication of the present play, 
and may have existed at a much earlier period ; it is, therefore, not straining proba- 
bility too hard to suppose that this air was, in some form, — ^most likely as a duet, unless 
the two Pages sang in unison, — ^performed in the play, either as it was originally acted 
or not long afler its production. Roffe (p. 16) : Mr Linley has set this poem as a 
duct for the two Pages ; it occiu^ to me as being very possible that Shakespeare con- 
templated a trio between the Pages and Touchstone, who, it may be observed, is the 
first to ask for a song, and upon the Pages making ready to comply. Touchstone is 
requested to ' sit i' the middle.' It might also strike many that, granting Touchstone 
and the Pages personated by competent vocalists, the dramatic effect of a trio would 
be very superior to that of a duett. Should an objection be raised to this view, 
grounded upon the Pages' ideas as to * clapping into it roundly,' * both in a tune,* that 
objection, even if allowed, would not necessarily shut Touchstone out from joining in the 
three lines common to every verse^ and beginning at * In the pretty spring-time.' It would 
De most highly natural, as well as dramatically effective, that Touchstone should do so. 
18. Wright : In the Preface to his Ghostly Psalms, Coverdale {Pemains, p. 537, 
Parker Soc.) refers to these meaningless burdens of songs : *And if women, sitting 
at their rocks, or spinning at the wheels, had none other songs to pass their time 
withal, than such as Moses' sister, Glehana's [Elkanah's] wife, Debora, and Mary the 
mother of Christ, have sung before them, they should be better occupied than with 
hey nonyy nony, hey troly loly and such like phantasies.* [In serious poetry, Sir 
Philip Sidney reached, I think, the extreme limit in the use of < such like phantasies,' 
when he bequeathed to us the following stanza : < Fa la la leridan, dan dan dan deri- 
dan : || Dan dan dan dcridan deridan dei : || While to my mind the outside stood || 
For messenger of inward good.' — Arcadia, p. 486, ed. 1598. — Ed.] 



264 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v, sc. iii. 

In the fpring tifnCj the onely pretty rang time. 20 

When Birds do Jingyhey ding a dingy ding. 
Sweet Louers loue the fpring ^ 
And therefore take the prefent time. 
With a hey, & a ho, and a hey noninOy 
For loue is crowned with the prime. 2$ 

In fpring time, &c, 

Betweene the acres of the Rie, 
With a hey y aft d a hOy& a hey nonino: 
Thefe prettie Countryfolks would lie. 
In fpring time, &c. 30 

This Carroll they began that houre. 
With a hey and a hOy& a hey nonino : 
How that a life was but a Flower ^ 
In fpring time, &c. 

Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no 35 

great matter in the dittie, yet y note was very vntunable 

20. onely] Om. Rowe ii+, Cap. 30, 34. In] /« M^ F^F^, Rowe+,Cap. 

Steev. '85. Steev. Dyce i, Clke. 

rang] Ff, Rowe i, Cald. Spring 31. This] F,. 7)4^ FjF^, Rowe + , Cap. 

Rowe ii + , Cap. rank Steev. Mai. Var. Steev. 

ring Steev. conj. Knt et cet. 32. With a hey] With a hoy F,. 

23-26. Transposed to follow line 34, 33. a life] our life Han. Coll. ii. life 

Johns, et seq. (except Cald. Knt). Steev. '85. 

26. In] Ff. In the Rowe + , Cap. 36. vntunable'] untimeable Theob. 

Steev. Dyce i, Clke. Warb. Sing. Wh. Coll. ii, iii, Dyce iii, 

Huds. 

19. W. RiDGEWAY {The Academy, 20 Oct. 1883) : Is there not here a reference to 
the ancient system of open-field cultivation ? The com-Beld being in the singular 
implies that it is the special one of the common fields which is under com for the 
year. The common field being divided into acre-strips by balks of unploughed turf, 
doubtless on one of these green balks, * Between the acres of the rye These pretty 
country folks would lie.* 

20. rang] Steevens : I think we should read * ring time,' i, e. the aptest season 
for marriage. Whiter (p. 60) : Why may not * rang time ' be written for * range 
time,* the only pleasant time for straying or ranging about ? [The MS in the Advo- 
cates* Library confirmed Steevens's conjecture.] 

ifi. vntunable] Theobald : It is evident, fhim the sequel of the dialogue, that the 
poet wrote untimeable. Time and * tune ' are frequently misprinted for one another 
in the old editions. [It may be remarked, too, that time and tune were formerly syn- 
onymous. — Dyce, Strictures, &c., p. 70.] Johnson : This emendation is received, I 






ACT V, sc. ui.] AS YOU LIKE IT 265 

I. Pa, you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we loft not 37 

our time. 

Clo. By my troth yes : I count it but time loft to heare 
fuch a foolifh fong. God buy you, and God mend your 40 

voices. Come Audrie. Exeunt, 

37. k^'\ keep FjF^. be with you Steev. Var. Cald. Knt, Sing. 

40. buy you'\ Ff, Cam. b'^w'y you Ktly. b^ zui* youVih. Dyce, Huds. 
Rowe + . be wi^ you Cap. Mai. Coll. Sta. 

think very undeservedly, by Dr Warburton. M. Mason : The reply of the Page 
proves to me, beyond any possibility of doubt, that we ought to read untimeable, 
Steevens : The sense seems to be : * Though the words of the song were trifling, the 
music was not (as might have been expected) good enough to compensate their defect.' 
Caldecott : Though there was so little meaning in the words, yet the music fully 
matched it ; the note was as little tuneable. Collier (ed. i) : Touchstone would 
hardly say that * the note * of the song was very untinieabU. The Page might mis- 
take the nature of Touchstone's remark, and apply to the time what was meant of 
the tune : the clown subsequently hopes that their voices may be mended, in order 
that they may sing more tunably. Collier (ed. ii) : Here the (MS) comes mate- 
rially to oiu- aid; the printed reading is amended to untimeable ^viMxK^ entirely accords 
with what follows. Walker {Crit. 1,295) would retain *vntunable,' but change 
* time ' in the Page's reply to tune. White : Shakespeare was a good musician ; and 
the answer of the Page and the reply of Touchstone make it plain that [the word is] 
untimeable ; otherwise the Page's answer is no reply at all. In the manuscript of any 
period it is very difficult to tell Hme from tune^ except by the dot of the », so fre- 
quently omitted ; and as most people think that to be in tune or out of tune is the 
principal success or the principal failure of a musical performance, it is by no means 
strange that the word written in the old hand, with the i undotted, should be taken 
for * untunable.' I can speak from experience that in ninety-nine cases out of a hun- 
dred in which time is written, it will be first put in type as tune. One curious instance 
occurs in King John^ III, iii : * I had a thing to say. But I will fit it with some better 
time.' The original has * some better tune.^ Wright : Theobald forgot that Touch- 
stone is the speaker. The Page misunderstands him in order to give him an opening 
for another joke. Cowden-Clarke : * Untunable ' was sometimes used in Shake- 
speare's day for ' out of time ' as well as ' out of tune,' and it is probable that pert 
Master Touchstone wished to insinuate both defects in the Pages' singing ; while the 
First Page defends himself and his fellow-chorister from the more pardonable musical 
error of the two. This may be the better comprehended if it be imagined (as we 
always do when we read this amusing little scene, so pointed in satire as it is upon the 
affectations of musical amateurs, both performers and listeners) that Touchstone, with 
the air of a connoisseur, beats time to the music while the song is proceeding ; which 
accotmts for the Page's words in answer to the action that preceded the word ' untun- 
able,' and gave it the meaning then oflen attached to the term. Be it observed that 
the Second Page's words immediately before the song * both in a tune^ &c. tend to 
show that ' in a tune ' was sometimes used for ' in time ' ; as the simile of two fellows 
jogging along on the same horse implies measure, rhythm, uniform pace. 



266 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



[act V, sc. iv. 



Scena Quarta. 



Enter Duke Senior j Amy ens y laques, Orlan- 

doy Oliuerj Celia. 
Du, Sen, Doft thou beleeue Orlando^ that the boy- 
Can do all this that he hath promifed ? 

OrL I fometimes do beleeue, and fomtimes do not, 
As thofe that feare they hope, and know they feare. 



5 



Scene V. Pope, Han. Warb. Johns. 

6. feare ...feare"] Ff, Rowe, Pope, 
Theob. Steev. Var. Rann, Cald. Har- 
ness, Coll. i, Sing. Wh. Dyce, Hal. 
Sta. Cam. Clke, Neil, Mob. Rife, think 
they hope, and know they fear Han. 
fear, they hope, and know they fear 
Johns. Mai. fear their hope, and know 
their fear Heath, Cap. fear, — they 
hope and know they fear Knt. fear 
to hope, and know they fear Coll. (MS) 
ii, iii, Huds. fear their hope and hope 
their fear Lettsom, Ktly. fear with hope. 



and hope with fear or fear, they hope, 
and now they fear Johns, conj. ffign 
they hope, and know they fear Black - 
stone, fear, then hope; and know, then 
fear Musgrave. who fearing hope, atid 
hoping fear M. Mason, fear ; they hope, 
and know they fear Henley, J. Hunter. 
fear thee, hope, and know thee, fear 
Rann. conj. fear may hope and know 
they fear Harness conj. fear that they 
hope, and know they fear Jervis. fain 
would hope and know they fear Cart- 
wright. 



I. Dyce : This ought, perhaps, to be marked * Another part of the Forest. Before 
a Cottage.' 

6. As . . . feare] Warburton : This strange nonsense should be read thus : *A8 
those that fear their hap, and know their fear,' i. e. As those that fear the issue of a 
thing when they know their fear to be well grounded. Heath (p. 153) : I think it 
may be better corrected with less alteration, thus : *As those that fear their hope, and 
know their fear,' i. e. As those that fear a disappointment of their hope, whose hope 
is dashed and rendered doubtful by their fear, but who are most undoubtedly certain 
they fear. Malone : As those who fear, — they, even those very persons, entertain 
hopes that their fears will not be realized ; and yet at the same time they well know 
that there is reason for their fears. Caldecott : As those, that under a sad misgiv- 
ing entertain a trembling hope, at the same time that they feel real apprehension and 
fears. A man might, with propriety, say, I fear I entertain so much hope, as teaches 
me I cannot be without fear of disappointment. Orlando says he is like that man. 
Knight ; That is, those who fear, they, even they, hope, while they know they fear. 
Collier : Orlando dares not hope that Rosalind will perform her promise, yet hopes 
that she will, and knows that he fears she will not. Singer : As those who are 
alarmed at their own tendency to be sanguine (fear that they are harbouring secret 
hopes which will lead to disappointment), and are quite aware that they fear. Hope 
and Fear alternating, they are not quite certain whether they hope, but fear they do. 
They fear, because to hope is imprudent : — they are quite certain that they fear. Dyce 
(ed. i): I believe that the line now stands as Shakespeare wrote it. White: As 



ACT V, sc iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 267 

Enter Ro/alinde^ Siluitis, & Phebe. 7 

Rof. Patience once more, whiles our c6pa<5l is vrg'd: 
You fay, if I bring in your Rofalindey 
You wil beftow her on Orlando heere? 10 

Du, Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir. 

i?^And you fay you wil haue her, when I bring hir? 

Or/. That would I, were I of all kingdomes King. 

Ro/. You fay,you'l marrie me, if I be willing. 

P/ie. That will I, fhould I die the houre after. 1 5 

Ro/. But if you do refufe to marrie me, 
You'l giue your felfe to this mod faithfull Shepheard. 

PAe. So is the bargaine. 

Ro/. You fay that you'l haue PAeie if fhe will. 19 

8. ^?/<z^] compact Ff. 12. [To Orl.] Rowe ct seq. (except 
vr^d^ heard Coll. (MS). Cap. Cam. Wh. ii, Rife). 

9. [To the Duke] Rowe et seq. (ex- 14. [To Phe.] Rowe et seq. (except 
cept Cap. Cam. Wh. ii, Rife). Cap. Cam. Wh. ii, Rife). 

II, 12. hir\ F,. herY^^, 19. [To Sil.] Rowe et seq. (except 

Cap. Cam. Wh. ii, Rife). 

those who are apprehensive that they are deceiving themselves by indulging a secret 
hope, although they know they fear the issue, — a state of mind in which few readers 
of Shakespeare can have failed to be at some time. Apology is surely necessary for 
offering even a paraphrastic explanation of so simple a passage. Halliwell : As 
those that fear what they hope, and know very well they fear a disappointment. 

Staunton : This line, not without reason, has been suspected of corruption A 

somewhat similar form of expression is found in AlVs Welly II, ii : * But know I 
think, and think I know most sure.' Keightley: Coleridge thus expresses the 
same thought : 'And Fears self-willed, that shunned the eye of Hope ; And Hope 
that scarce would know itself from Fear.' Cowden-Clarke : Those who dread that 
they may be hoping without foundation, knowing that they really fear. Moberly : 
Of the many conjectures for the emendation of this passage the most likely is John- 
son's [qu. Heath's ?] : *As they who fear their hope and know their fear.* Hudson : 
As those that fear lest they may believe a thing because they wish it true, and at the 
same time know that this fear is no better ground of action than their hope. Who 
has not sometime caught himself in a similar perplexity of hope and fear ? Wright : 
Who are so diffident that they even hope fearfully, and are only certain that they 
fear. RoLFE : Whose hopes are mingled with fear, and only their fears certain. [In 
the preceding notes, it is pleasing to observe, in the general interpretation of the 
meaning, such a remarkable unanimity. — Ed.] 

8. c6padt] See Abbott, § 490, for a long list of words, chiefly derived from the 
Latin, where the accent is nearer the end than with us. 

8. vrg'd] Collier : The (MS) has heard for * urg'd,* and the ear may have 
misled the scribe or the printer ; but as *■ urg'd ' sufficiently well answers the pur- 
pose, we refrain from making any change. Dyce : Heard is unnecessary, not to say, 
foolish. 



Hife 



k^. 



268 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v, sc, iv. 

Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one 20 

thing. 

Rof, I haue promised to make all this matter euen : 
Keepe you your word,0 Duke, to giue your daughter, 
You yours Orlando^ to receiue his daughter : 
Keepe you your word Phebe^^zX. you'l marrie me, 25 

Or elfe refufmg me to wed this fhepheard : 
Keepe your word SiluiuSy that you'l marrie her 
If fhe refufe me, and from hence I go 
To make thefe doubts all euen. Exit Rof. and Celia. 29 

22. I haui] Pve Pope + , Dyce iii, Mai. Sing. Cam. Ktly, Dyce iii, Huds. 
Huds. Rife, Wh. ii. 

25. ^tw] Om. Rowe + , Cap. Stcev. 29. cuen\even — ^z/^it x^ Coll. (MS) ii, 

• • • 

lU. 

22. euen] Schmidt : That is, plain, smooth. Compare what the Doctor says of 
Lear, * 'tis danger to make him even o'er the time he has lost.' So, too, the last line 
of this speech of Rosalind's, where Steevens cites : '' yet death we fear That makes 
these odds all even.' — Meas. for Meas. Ill, i, 41. 

25. Phebe] Is ' Phebe ' a monosyllable or a dissyllable? A momentous question. 
If a dissyllable, then we must follow Pope and read : * Keep your word,* wherein the 
ictus falls excellently on * your.' If the present text is to stand, then is * Phebe * a 
monosyllable ; as an affectionate abbreviation it seems utterly out of place in Rosa- 
lind's mouth. See IV, lii, 9. — Ed. 

25, 26. that you'l ... to wed] Abbott, §416: Just as that is sometimes omitted 
and then inserted to connect a distant clause with a Brst part of a sentence, so some- 
times < to ' is inserted apparently for the same reason. Here *■ to ' might be omitted, 
or [< you'll '] might be inserted instead, but the omission would create ambiguity, and 
the insertion be a tedious repetition. See III, ii, 152, 153. 

29. Collier : The line is deficient, and we may be confident, from the rhyme, if 
from nothing else, that the speech of the heroine was originally thus concluded : * To 
make these doubts all even— even so.' [This is one of the class of changes in 
Shakespeare's text which, I am sure, aroused the sharpest antagonism to Collier's old 
corrector's emendations, — an antagonism which, when once started, quickly spread to 
all the other emendations from the same source. It is one thing to change the words 
we have before us, but it is another, and a very different thing, to add words entirely 
new. In the one case we are groping afler Shakespeare's genuine words which we 
know stood there. But in the other case we are asked to accept words, and phrases, 
and even whole lines, which could not possibly have been written on the margin of 
Collier's Second Folio until after Shakespeare had been sixteen years in his grave. 
Before giving these additions place in Shakespeare's text we must have some plainer 
plea for them than mere propriety. The gulf which separates this class and Shake« 
speare's hand is impassable. All other changes may be tried on their merits ; the 
question of * forgery ' (a most disagreeable word, even to write) has nothing to do 
with them. On many grounds I have faith in Collier : first, there is in all of his 
pleadings that I have read on the subject the quiet breast of truth ; he is never violent, 




ACTV. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 269 

Du. Sen, I do remember in this fhepheard boy, 30 

Some liuely touches of my daughters fauour. 

OrL My Lord, the firft time that I euer faw him, 
Me thought he was a brother to your daughrer : 
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forreft borne. 
And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments 35 

Of many defperate ftudies, by his vnckle, 
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian. 

Enter Clowne and Audrey. 
Obfcured in the circle of this Forreft. 

laq. There is fure another flood toward, and thefe 40 

couples are comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre 

30. Jhepheard'\Jhepherds F^. 38. Enter...] After line 43, Dyce. 
33. daughter^ F,. Clowne] Touchstone Mai. 

37. Whom\ Who F^F^, Rowe i. 40. Scene VI. Pope, Han. Warb. 

Magitian."] Ff. Johns. 

nor, when severe, abusive ; secondly, he had not the ability, the natural g^fts, as he 
himself urged, to devise so vast a number of corrections ; in none of his previous edit- 
ings, and they are voluminous, did he give promise of that fertility of conjecture or of 
emendation which the old corrector displays on every page ; and thirdly, and mainly 
(a ground any criminal lawyer will immediately appreciate), there is an entire absence 
of motive. Dishonesty would have copied out all these emendations, flames would 
have consumed the original, and the fame fearlessly claimed (and as surely bestowed) 
as the keenest editor Shakespeare had ever had. With such a chance before him of 
being deemed the author, would a dishonest man be content with the reputation of a 
mere transcriber ? Does a man * forge ' for the benefit of another who can make him 
no return ? Does the fame of a mere scribe equal the fame of an author ? Had Col- 
lier been dishonest he would have seized the latter. He openly assumed the former. 
—Ed.] 

31. touches] Caldecott: That is, traits. See *the touches dearest priz'd.'^ 
in, ii, 151. Wright : As Orlando does not recognise Rosalind in her disguise, it is 
not surprising that her father fails to do so. But his curiosity is excited, and the 
inquiries which must certainly have followed upon Orlando's speech are checked by 
the entry of Touchstone and Audrey. 

36. desperate] Allen (MS) : Magical studies (sorcery, &c.) were supposed to be 
pursued by men who had made a league with the Devil, and who had, therefore, 
already despaired ofy or renounced, their salvation ; that is, they would not, unless they 
had already come to despair of their salvation, have made a league with the Enemy 
of mankind. Cf. Friar Bacon, for the union of * religion ' and magic. Observe, too, 
this is Orlando's statement ; Rosalind says the < magician was most profound in his 
art, and yei not damnable* — V, ii, 62. [Prospero, in the Epilogue to TTie Tempest, 
says, as a magician, that his < ending is despair.' Schmidt interprets it as * forbidden 
by law,* which is, I think, far afield. — Ed.] 

40. toward] Compare < O proud Death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell.' 
^Ham, V, ii, 375. 



270 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

of verie ftrange beads, which in all tongues, are call'd 42 

Fooles. 

Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all. 

laq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome : This is the 45 

Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue fo often met in 
the Forreft: he hath bin a Courtier he fweares. 

Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my 
purgation, I haue trod a meafure, I haue flattred a Lady, 
I haue bin politicke with my friend, fmooth with mine 50 

enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had foure 
quarrels, and like to haue fought one. 

laq. And how was that tane vp ? 

Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon 
the feuenth caufe. 55 

42. verie Jlrange'\ unclean Han. 53. tane'\ to* en Rowe. 

Warb. 

42. verie strange] Warburton : What * strange beasts * I and yet such as have a 
name in all languages ! Noah's ark is here alluded to ; into which the clean beasts 
entered by sevens^ and the unclean by two^ male and female. It is plain then that 
Shakespeare wrote * a pair of unclean beasts,* which is highly humorous. Johnson : 

* Strange beasts ' are only what we call odd animals. White : There were female 
jesters as well as male, and it is possible that there may be here an allusion to that cus- 
tom, — ^Audrey being whimsically supposed by Jaques to have assumed the profession 
as well as the station of her husband. Else why does he call them a pair of Fools ? 

49. measure] Malone : Touchstone, to prove that he has been a courtier, par- 
ticularly mentions a < measure,* because it was a very stately, solemn dance. Reed : 

* Measures * were performed at court, and at public entertainments of the societies of 
law and equity at their halls, on particular occasions. It was formerly not deemed 
inconsistent with propriety even for the gravest persons to join in them ; and accord- 
ingly at the revels which were celebrated at the Inns of Court it has not been unusual 
for the first characters in the law to become performers in treading the measures. 
See Dugdale's Origines Juridiciales, Sir John Davies, in his poem called Orchestra^ 
1622, describes them [concluding with] : * Yet all the feet wherein these measures 
go, Are only spondees, solemn, grave, and slow.* Chappell (p. 626) : The * meas- 
ure ' was a grave and solemn dance, with slow and measured steps, like the minuet. 
To tread a measure was the usual term, like to walk a minuet. [ Yoimg Lord Loch- 
invar has made us familiar enough with the phrase.^ED.] 

52. like] Craik (note on *is like.* — Jul. Cas. I, ii, 175) : This form of expression 
is not quite, but nearly, gone out Rolfe : It is still vulgarly used, at least in New 
England. 

53. tane] Caldecott : That is, made up. Touchstone presently sajrs, an if did 
it once, ' when seven justices could not take up a quarrel.* 

54. was vpon] Johnson : It is apparent from the sequel that we must read, * the 
quarrel was not upon the seventh cause.* Malone : By * the seventh cause * Touch- 



ACT V, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 271 

laq. How feuenth caufe ? Good my Lord, like this 56 

fellow. 

Du. Se. I like him very well. 

Clo, God'ild you fir, I defire you of the like : I preffe 
in heere fir, amongft the reft of the Country copulatiues 60 

to fweare, and to forfweare, according as mariage binds 
and blood breakes : a poore virgin fir, an il-fauor'd thing 
fir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine fir, to take 
that that no man elfe will : rich honeftie dvvels like a mi- 
fer fir, in a poore houfe, as your Pearle in your foule oy- 65 

fter. 

Du, Se. By my faith, he is very fwift, and fententious. 

C/o, According to the fooles bolt fir, and fuch dulcet 
difeafes. " 69 

56. fetunth'\ the fevtnth F F , Rowe 61, 62. binds.., breakes] bids tmd blood 

+ , Coll. i, Dyce iii, Huds. bids break Warb. conj. 

59. you of] of you Han. Warb. 65. foule] Om. F^F^, Rowe i. 

stone, I apprehend, means the lie seven times removed ; i. e. *■ the retort courteous/ 
which is removed seven times (counted backwards) from the lie direct, the last and 
most aggravated species of lie. See the subsequent note on line 72. 
59. God'ild you] See III, iii, 69. 

59. desire you of the like] See I, ii, 53. 

60. copulatiues] Wright : Who desire to be joined in marriage. For the force 
of the termination -ii^e in Shakespeare see III, ii. 1 1. 

61. 62. sweare . . . breakes] Henley : A man, by the marriage ceremony, 
rwears that he will keep only to his wife ; when, therefore, he leaves her for another, 
blood breaks his matrimonial obligation, and he is forsworn. [It is a case of respect- 
ive construction ; * to swear * refers to * marriage^ and * to forswear * refers to * blood.' 
Dyce or Schmidt will furnish many examples where * blood' means temperament, 
passion. — Ed.] 

62. Weiss (p. 116) : We see Touchstone's good sense, too, in the scene where he 
brings his wife into the Duke's company, with such an air of self-possession mixed 
with a pleased sense that she is his best joke at the punctilio of fashionable life. 

64. honestie] Again used as Celia and Audrey have used it before. 

67. swift, and sententious] Caldecott : Prompt and pithy. 

68. fooles] Another variation in the old copies. The Cam. Ed. here records y^/fx 
in F,. In my copy it \s fooles. — Ed. 

68, 69. dulcet diseases] Johnson : This I do not understand. For < diseases ' 
it is easy to read discourses ; but perhaps the fault may lie deeper. Capell : ^ Dul- 
cet diseases ' mean wits or witty people ; so call'd because the times were infested 
with them ; they and fools — that is, such fools as the speaker — ^being all their delight. 
Steevens : Perhaps he calls a proverb a disease. Proverbial sayings may appear to 
him the surfeiting diseases of conversation. They are often the plague of commenta- 
tors. Dr Farmer would read : *■ in such dulcet diseases,' i. e. in the sweet uneasiness 
of love, a time when people usually talk nonsense. Malone : Without staying to 



iiik»tl*< 



272 AS VOLT LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

laq. But for the feuenth caufe . How did you finde 70 

the quarrcll on the feuenth caufe ? 

Clo, Vpon a lye, feuen times remoued : (beare your 72 

examine how far the position last advanced is founded on truth, I shall only add that 
I believe the text is right, and that this word is capriciously used for sayings^ though 
neither in its primary nor figurative sense has it any relation to that word. In The 
Mer. of Vtn. the Clown talks in the same style, but more intelligibly. M. Mason : 
For * diseases ' we should probably read phrases, unless we suppose that Shakespeare 
intended that the Clown should blunder ; and Touchstone is not one of his blunder- 
ing clowns. Wright ; The Clown only shares the fate of those, even in modem 
times, who use fine phrases without understanding them, and ' for a tricksy word defy 
the matter.' Walker (CnV. iii, 64): He is resuming his former speech; point, if 
the names be rightly prefixed to the characters : * as your pearl in your foul oyster ;— 
Duke Sen. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touchstone. According to 
the fool's bolt, sir; — and such dulcet diseases — Jaques. But, for the seventh cause; 
how did you find,' &c. But I have scarcely any doubt that the parts ought to be dis* 
posed thus : * — and sententious. Jaques. According to the fool's bolt, sir. Touch- 
stone. And such dulcet diseases,' &c. [TiESSiN (Englische Studien, II, ii, p. 454) 
conjectures that possibly Touchstone means to say < dulcet diesisesJ It is such fan- 
tastic tricks as this which, now and then, Germans will insist upon playing before 
high Shakespeare, that make the judicious English critic grieve, and stone his heart 
against all foreign meddling with the language of these plays. Schlegel omitted the 
phrase, having detected in it, — ^what no English commentator has detected, — some- 
thing which, so he says, had better remain untranslated. — Ed.] 

72. seuen times remoued] Malone: Touchstone here enumerates seven kinds 
of lies, from the * Retort courteous ' to the seventh and most aggravated species of lie, 
which he calls. the *lie direct.' The courtier's answer to his intended af&ont he 
expressly tells us was * the Retort courteous,' the first species of lie. When, there- 
fore, he says that Xhey found the quarrel was on * the lie seven times removed, we 
must understand by the latter word, the lie removed seven times, counting backwards, 
(as the word removed seems to intimate,) from the last and most aggravated species 
of lie, — namely, * the lie direct.' So, in A IPs Well: * Who hath some four or five 
removes come short To tender it herself.* Again, in the play before us : * Your accent 
is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling,' i. e. so distant 
from the haunts of men. When Touchstone and the coiutier met, they found their 
quarrel originated in the seventh cause, i. e. on the Retort courteous or the lie seven 
times removed. In the course of their altercation after their meeting, Touchstone did 
not dare go further than the sixth species, (counting in regular progression from the 
first to the last,) the lie circumstantial ; and the courtier was afraid to give him the 
lie direct ; so they parted. In a subsequent enumeration of the degrees of a lie, 
Touchstone expressly names the Retort courteous as the first ; calling it, therefore, 
here * the seventh cause,' and * the lie seven times removed,* he must mean distant 
seven times from the most offensive lie, the lie direct. There is certainly, therefore, 
no need of reading with Dr Johnson in a former passage : * the quarrel was not in the 
seventh cause.* [It is, I am afraid, a waste of time to attempt to reconcile any dis- 
crepancy in Touchstone's category of lies and causes. There can be no doubt that 
his * Lie circumstantial ' was not the seventh cause, although the lie may have been 
seven times removed. One single, simple question will, I think, show Malone's fal- 



ACT V, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 273 

bodie more feeming Audry) as thus fir : I did diflike the 73 

cut of a certaine Courtiers beard : he fent me word, if I 

faid his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it 75 

was : this is call'd the retort courteous. If I fent him 

word againe, it was not well cut, he wold fend me word J J 

77. iw/] Om. FjF^, Rowe i. 

lacy. If the Retort courteous be the seventh cause, as he says it is, what was the 
eighth cause or the ninth cause, for Touchstone had not exhausted the tale ? We may 
count the *• lies ' backwards, but the < causes ' forwards. And in that case Touch- 
stone's computation of causes is wrong. Halliwell, however, makes him out to be 
right. — Ed.] Halliwell : In Touchstone's calculation the quarrel really was, or 
rather depended upon, the lie directy or the seventh cause. Six previous causes had 
passed without a duel ; there were six modes of giving the lie, none of which had 
been considered sufficient to authorise a combat ; but the seventh, the He direct ^ would 
have been the subject of the quarrel, and this is also what is to be understood by a 

* lie seven times removed.* The absurdity of the dispute just terminating before the 
necessity of fighting had arrived, and of there being two lies of higher intensity than 
the countercheck quarrelsome * I lie,* is evidently intentional. 

73. seeming] Steevens : That is, seemly. * Seeming * is often used by Shake- 
speare for becoming, ov fairness of appearance. [But * seeming * is here used adverb- 
ially, and is not * often * so foimd. — Ed.] Daniel (p. 38'^ : No editor, I presume, 
would venture to alter * seeming * in this phrase ; but the following passages may sug- 
gest a doubt whether we have the right word : * she, with pretty and with swimming 
gait.* — Mid. N. D. II, ii. * Where be your ribbands, maids? Swim with youi 
bodies. And carry it sweetly and deliverly.' — Beau. & Fl. Two Noble Kins. Ill, v. 

* Carry your body swimming.^ — Massinger, The Bondman, III, iii. * Come hither, 
ladies, carry your bodies swimming.^ — Massinger, A Very Woman, III, v. The fol- 
lowing passage from Steele's Tender Husband, III, i, may be interesting as showing 
the sense in which the phrase was understood at a later period : ' Your arms do but 
hang on, and you move upon joints, not with a swim of the whole person.' Elzb 
{^Sh. Jahrbuch, xi, 284) : To the passages which Daniel has brought forward in sup- 
port of his brilliant conjecture, another may be added which shows unmistakably 
that a ' swimming gait ' was a fashion of the day. It is as follows : * Carry your body 
in the swimming fashion.^ — Chapman, The Ball, II, p. 494, ed. Shepherd. 

73. dislike] Staunton : * Dislike ' here imports not merely the entertaining an 
aversion, but the expressing it; so in Meas. for Afeas. I, ii, 18: * I never heard tJij 
soldier dislike it.' Also in [the passage fix>m] Beau. & Fl. Queen of Corinth, IV, i 
[quoted by Warburton] : * has he familiarly Dislik'd your yellow starch ? or said your 
doublet Was not exactly Frenchified ?' [Dyce also gives this especial meaning of 

* dislike ' here. It escaped Schmidt. The rest of Warburton's quotation from 77ie 
Queen of Corinth, p. 457, ed. Dyce, which was cited to illustrate, not this word * dis- 
like,* but Touchstone*s degrees of a lie, is as follows : * has he given the lie In circle, 
or oblique, or semi-circle. Or direct parallel ? you must challenge him.' See also 
Jonson's Alchemist, p. 107, ed. Gifford, where the safety that lies in quarrels is esti- 
mated in half-circles, acute and blunt angles, &c., &c., and the whole subject is ridi- 
culed. — Ed.] 

z8 



274 A^ you LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

he cut it to pleafe himfelfeithis is calPd the quip modeft, 78 

If againe, it was not well cut, he difabled my iudgment: 

this is called, the reply churlifh. If againe it was not well 80 

cut, he would anfwer I fpake not true : this is calPd the 

reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold 

fay, I lie : this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelfome : 

and fo ro lye circumftantiall,and the lye direfl. 

laq. And how oft did you fay his beard was not well 85 

cut? 

Clo. I durft go no further then the lye circumftantial: 
nor he durft not giue me the lye direft : and fo wee mea- 
fur'd fwords, and parted. 

laq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of 90 

the lye. 

Clo, O fir, we quarrel in print, by the booke : as you 92 

83. I lie] I /t'fd Han. Cap. Glo. Dyce 84. /o ro] so th€ Rowe + . fo to the 

iii, Coll. iii, Huds. Wright, Rife, Wh. ii. Ff, Cap. et cet. 

78. quip] Wright : Cotgrave explains * Sobriquet * as * A surname ; also, a" nick- 
name, or byword ; and a quip or cut giuen, a mocke or flowt bestowed, a ieast broken 
on a mkn.* .... Another form of the word is quibf which is found in Coles's Dict,y 
and in Webster it is given on the authority of Tennyson in a quotation from The 
Death of the Old Year, 1. 29. I have, however, been unable to find it in any Eng- 
lish edition. [And I in any American. — Ed.] 

79. disabled] See IV, i, 34 : * disable all the benefits,' &c. 
83. lie] Hanmer's change is as good as it is trifling. 

92. booke] Theobald : The boisterous Gallants in Queen Elizabeth's reign did 
not content themselves with practising at the Sword in the Schools, but they studied 
the Theory of the Art, the Grounding of Quarrels, and the Process of Challenging, 
from Lewis de Caranza's Treatise of Fencings Vincentio Saviola's Practise of the 
Rapier and Dagger ^ and Giacomo di Grassi's Art of Defence. Warburton : The 
particular book here alluded to is a very ridiculous treatise of one Vincentio Saviolo, 
1594. [Only the Second Book is dated 1594;, the First is 1595, but as, in The Epis- 
tle Dedicatorie, the Earl of Essex is requested to accept this book as * a new yeeres 
gifte,' both books were probably struck off" in 1594, and the latest possible date given 
only to the First. It is from the First Book that we learn the use of the terms that 
Mercutio ridicules, *the immortal passado! the punto reverso!' &c. The Second 
Book treats *0f Honor and Honorable Quarrels,' and these are the 'quarrels in 
print ' to which it is supposed Touchstone alludes ; in especial there is *A Discourse 
most necessarie for all Gentlemen that haue ip regarde their honors. touching the giu- 
ing and receiuing of the Lie, wherevpop the Duello & the Combats in diuers sortes 
doth insue, & many other inconueniences, for lack only of the true knowledge of 
honor, and the contrarie : & the right vnderstanding of wordes, which heere is plainly 
set downe.' Whereupon, to guard us from these * inconveniences ' and impart to us 
* a right understanding of wordes/ Saviolo proceeds to discourse ' Of the manner 



ACT V. sc. iv.] . AS YOU LIKE IT 275 

[we quarrel in print, by the booke] 
and diuersitie of Lies.' First comes * Of lies certaine ' ; this was supposed by War- 
burton to correspond to Touchstone's * lie direct,' but erroneously, I think. For a * lie 
certain ' it is requisite * that the cause whereupon it is giuen, be particularlye specified 
and declared.' It is the quality of the lie, not the terms of the answer, which must 
be * certaine.* Then comes * Of conditionall Lyes.' Here Warburton was nearer right 
in finding a correspondence to Touchstone's * lie circumstantial.* * Conditionall lyes,' 
says Saviolo, ' be such as are giuen conditionally : as if a man should sale or write 
these woordes, If thou hast saide that I haue offered my Lord abuse, thou lyest : or if 
thou saiest so heerafter, thou shalt lye. And as often as thou hast or shalt so say, so 
oft do I and will I say that thou doest lye. Of these kinde of lyes giuen in this man- 
ner, often arise much contention in words, and diuers intricate worthy [jiV] battailes, 
multiplying wordes vpon wordes whereof no sure conclusion can arise.' * By which 
he means,' says Warburton, * they cannot proceed to cut one another's throats, while 
there is an if between. Which is the reason of Shakespeare's making the Clown 
say " I know seven justices," &c.' Saviolo, however, utterly disapproved of condi- 
tional! lies, of which the issue is always doubtful. * Therefore,' he pluckily concludes, 
' not to fall into any error, all such as haue any regarde of their honor or credit, ought 
by all meanes possible to shunne all conditionall lyes, neuer geuing anie other but cer- 
tayne Lyes : the which in like manner they ought to haue great regarde, that they 
griue them not, vnless they be by some sure means infallibly assured, that they giue 
them rightly, to the ende that the parties vnto whome they be giuen, may be forced 
without further Ifs and Ands, either to deny or iustifie, that which they haue spoken.* 
Then follow short chapters, * Of the Lye in generall,' * Of the Lye in particular,' * Of 
foolish Lyes,' and finally, *A Conclusion touching the Challenger and the Defender, 
and of the wresting and returning back of the lye, or Dementie.* Warbiuton cites 
this last chapter thus : 'A conclusion touching the wresting or returning back of the 
lye,' and thereupon interprets it, * or the countercheck quarrelsome,' — a quotation as 
unfairly stated as its interpretation is unwarranted ; the contents of the chapter are 
clearly defined by its title, and have nothing whatever to do with * quarrelsome counter- 
checks.' (It is not needless thus to criticise Warburton ; he has been blindly followed 
by more than one editor.) Who will refuse a sympathetic response to Saviolo's pious 
sigh of relief as he concludes the whole matter ? *And so (God be thanked) we finde 
that almost we haue dispatched this matter, no lesse vneasie (as it is sayd before) to be 
handled & vnderstood, than necessary to be ktiowen of all caualiers and Gentlemen.' 
It is doubtful if too much importance has not been attached to this book of Saviolo. 
Its connection with Touchstone's speech is really very slight ; there is in it nothing of 
the enumeration of causes, and there can be scarcely a doubt that the names for the 

* degrees ' are wholly Shakespeare's own. There is, however, another book wherein 
the * causes ' of quarrels, to judge by its title, are expressly mentioned, and it, rather 
than Saviolo, would seem to be the * booke ' referred to by Touchstone, if he referred 
to any special book at all. Its title runs : TTie Booke of Honor and Amies y wherein 
is discoursed the Causes of Quarrelly and the nature of IniurieSy with their Repulses^ 
&c. 4to, 1590. In all likelihood this volume was well sifted by Malone, and the fol- 
lowing is apparently the only extract which he found germane to Touchstone's speech : 

* Another way to procure satisfaction is, that hee who gave the lie, shall say or write 
unto the partie belied to this cfTect : I pray you advertise me by this bearer, with what 
intent you spake those words of injurie whereupon I gave you the lie. The other 
will answere, I spake them in choller, or with no meaning to offend you. Thereimto 



276 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. Sc. iv, 

haue bookes for good manners : I will name you the de- 93 

grees. The firft, the Retort courteous : the fecond, the 
Quip-modeft : the third, the reply Churlifh : the fourth, 95 

the Reproofe valiant : the fift, the Counterchecke quar- 
relfome : the fixt, the Lye with circumftance : the fea- 
uenth, the Lye direfl : all thefe you may auoyd, but the 
Lye direfl : and you may auoide that too , with an If. I 
knew when feuen luftices could not take vp a Quarrell, lOO 
but when the parties were met themfelues, one of them 
thought but of an If; as if you faide fo, then I faide fo : 
and they fhooke hands, and fwore brothers. Your If, is 
the onely peace-maker : much vertue in if. 

lag. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord ? He's as good 105 
at any thing, and yet a foole. 

Du, Se. He vfes his folly like a ftalking-horfe, and vn- 
der the prefentation of that he fhoots his wit. 108 

9^t 97' /fi-'J^^O F.- fifth. ,.ftxth 105. aj] Om. Rowe + , Steev. '85. 

FjF^. 108. Scene VII. Pope + . 

100. take^ make Quincy (MS). 

may be answered by him again that gave the lie thus : If your words were said onlie 
in anger and no intent to challenge me, then I do assure you that my lie given shall 
not burthen you, for I acknowledge you to be a true speaker and a gentleman of good 
reputation : wherefore my desire is that the speech passed between us may be forgot- 
ten. This mode of pacification may serve in many cases, and at sundrie occasions.' 
Sorry enough, as far as 3rielding hints for Touchstone's speech is concerned ; it is not 
even as fruitful as Saviolo's Practise^ for all the promise of its title. Wherefore I do 
greatly doubt if any particular book was hinted at by Shakespeare, or that there was 
any one book in that day which was so widely known that Shakespeare's promiscuous 
audience would have instantly recognised the allusion. The very essence of a popu- 
lar allusion is that what is alluded to, should be popular. — Ed.] 

93. bookes for good manners] Furnivall has edited for the Early English Text 
Society y 1868, many of these * books of manners,* including Hugh Rhodes's Boie of 
Nurture^ mentioned by Steevens. It is an invaluable compilation, enriched with 
exhaustive Prefaces. Again, for the same Society in the same year the same Editor 
reprinted Caxton's Book of Curtesye. — Ed. Wright : These * books ' are like * the 
card or calendar of gentry ' to which Osric compares Laertes, evidently in allusion to 
the title of some such book. 

102. as] Walker [Crit. i, 129) cites this as an instance of the use of or in the 
sense of to wit. Compare Jaques's Seven Ages : ^As first, the infant,' &c. 

103. swore brothers] Rolfe: Like \ht fratres jurati, who took an oath to share 
each other's fortunes. 

107. stalking-horse] Steevens (note on Much Ado, II, iii, 95) : A horse, either 
real or fictitious, by which the fowler anciently sheltered himself from the sight of the 
game. So in the 25th Song of Drayton's Poly-olbion : < One underneath his horse to 



ACT V. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT rjj 

Enter Hymen, Rofalindy and Celia, 

Still Muficke. 1 10 

Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen^ 
When earthly things made eauen 

attone together. 113 

109. Rofalind] Rosalind in Woman's their proper Dress. Ros. led by a Per 
Qoths. Rowe. Rosalind and Celia in son presenting Hymen. Cap. 

113. attone] atone Rowe. 

get a shoot doth stalk.' Reed : Again in Nao Shreds of the Old Snare, 1624, by 
John Gee : * Methinks I behold the cunning fowler, such as I have knowne in the 
fenne countries and els- where, that doe shoot at woodcockes, snipes, and wilde ibwle, 
by sneaking behind a painted cloth which they carrey before them, having pictured in 
it the shape of a horse ; which while the silly fowle gazeth on, it it knockt down with 
hale shot, and so put in the fowler's budget.' 

108. presentation] Schmidt : Show (deceptions), semblance. 

109. Hymen] Johnson : Rosalind is imagined by the rest of the company to be 
brought by enchantment, and is therefore introduced by a supposed aerial being in 
the character of Hymen. Capell : The following masque-like eclarcissement, which 
is wholly of the Poet's invention, may pass for another small mark of the time of this 
play's ¥mting : for precisely in those years that have been mentioned in former notes 
[1604 and 1607] the foolery of masques was predominant; and the torrent of fashion 
bore down Shakespeare, in this play and the Tempest, and a little in Timon and Cym- 
beline. But he is not answerable for one absurdity in the conduct of this masque, that 
must lye at his editor's doors ; who, by bringing in Hymen in proprid persond, make 
Rosalind a magician indeed ; whereas all her conjuration consisted — in fitting up one of 
the foresters to personate that deity, and in putting proper words in his mouth. [See 
Text. Notes.] If, in representing this masque. Hymen had some Loves in his train, 
the performance would seem the more rational ; they are certainly wanted for what is 
intitrd the Song; and the other musical business, beginning: < Then is there mirth,' 
&c. would come with greater propriety from them, though editions bestow it on 
Hymen. Steevens: In all the allegorical shows exhibited at ancient weddings. 
Hymen was a constant personage. Ben Jonson, in his Hymenal, or the Solemnities 
of Masque and Barriers, has led instructions how to dress this favorite character : 
' On the other hand, entered Hymen, the god of marriage, in a saffron coloured robe, 
his under vestures white, his sockes yellow, a yellow veile of silke on his left arme, 
his head crowned with roses and marjoram, in his right hand a torch of pine-tree.' 

no. Still Musicke] Staunton: That \^, soft, low, gentle music: *then calling 
softly to the gentlemen who were witnesses about him, he bade them that they should 
command some still musicke to sound.* — A Patteme of the painefull Adventures of 
Pericles, prince of Tyre, i6o8. Again : *Afler which ensued a still noyse of recorders 
and flutes.' — A true reportarie . . of the Baptisme of . . Prince Frederik Henry, &c., 

1594. 

113. attone] Skeat : To set at one ; to reconcile. Made up of .the two words at 
and one / so that atone means to *■ set at one.' This was a clumsy expedient, so much 
so as to make the etymology look doubtful ; but it can be clearly traced, and there need 
be no hesitation about it. The interesting point is that the old pronunciation of Mid- 
dle English oon (now written one^ and corrupted ia pronunciation to wuPk) is here 



278 AS YOU LIKE IT [actv. sc. iv. 

Good Duke receiue thy daughter^ 

Hymen from Heauen brought her^ 115 

Yea brought her hether . 
That thou mightjl ioyne his hand with kis^ 
Whofe heart within his bofome is. 118 

116. hether] F,. hither F^F^. Ii8. his bofome] ^^^^j^ww Mai. Stee v. 

117. his hand] F„ Cald. Hal. her '93, Knt, Coll. Sing. Wh. i, Dyce, Ktly, 
hand F^F^ et cet. Huds. Rife. 

exactly preserved ; and there are at least two other similar instances, viz. in a/one 
(from Mid. Eng. a/, all, and (me)^ and on/y (Mid. Eng. oonly), etymologically one-ly 
[frequently spelled onefy in the Folio. — Ed.], but never pronounced vmnly in the 
standard speech. In anorty lit. * on one,* the -on is pronounced as the preposition * on/ 
never as anwun. The use of atone arose from the frequent use of Mid. Engl, at oon 
(also written at on) in the phrases * to be at oon * =» to agree, and * set at oon,* 1. e. to 
set at one, to make to agree, to reconcile. [Hereupon Skeat traces the phrase from 
Robert of Gloucester to Dryden.] Wright : The verb * atone ' does not occur in 
the Authorised Version, but we have there, in Acts vii, 26; 2 Mace, i, 5, the phrases 
* to set at one ' in the sense of * to reconcile,' and * to be at one * in the sense of * to be 

reconciled,' from which both are derived The spelling of the Folio has given 

occasion to the conjectural emendation attune, 

117, 118. his hand . . . his bosome] Malone reads * her hand ' and * her bosom ' ; 
he followed the Third and Fourth Folios in reading * her hand * ; but in reading * ?ier 
bosom ' the change was his own. Of the text (which is his, and not Shakespeare's) 
he gives the following paraphrase : * " That thou might'st join her hand with the hand 
of him whose heart is lodged in her bosom," i. e. whose affection she already pos- 
sesses.* Collier (adopting Malone's text) says * his * is evidently wrong in both 
instances ; * the error was, no doubt, produced by the not infrequent custom at that 
date of spelling " her,*' hir^ which misled the compositor.' Her is also the correction 
of Collier's (MS). Walker (if I understand him aright) also (CnV. i, 317) approves 
of Malone's text. 

On the other hand, Caldecott adheres to the Folio, reading * his ' in both places, 
with the following note: Before our attention had been directed to the variance 
between the old copies and modem editions, we had conceived that our author had 
repeatedly used the masculine pronoun in reference to the previously assumed cha- 
racter, and * doublet and hose * dress of Rosalind ; but it seems now, from this as well 
as other considerations, that her dress could not have been altered. The Duke, her 
father, who did not now know or suspect who she was (although he had just before 
said * he remembered some lively touches of his daughter in this shepherd-boy '), must, 
one would think, have at once recognised her in a female dress ; and she must also 
have delivered the epilogue in a male habit, or she could hardly have used the expres- 
sion * if I were a woman.* That the text is correct there may be much doubt. The 
introduction of the words ' in women's clothes * in the modem editions, was probably 
in consequence of stage practice. [It is not easy to see what leads Caldecott to sup- 
pose that the Duke fails to recognise his daughter ; he quite forgets, too, that when 
Rosalind in the Epilogue says * if I were a woman,' it was the boy-actor who spoke. 
There can be no doubt that from Rowe's times to the present Rosalind here appears 
' in woman's clothes * ; and it is clear, I think, that Phebe would not at once have 



k. 




ACT V. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 279 

Rof. To you I giue my felfe, for I am yours. 
To you I giue my felfe, for I am yours. 120 

Du. Se, If there be truth in fight, you are my daughter. 

Or/, If there be truth in fight, you are my Rofalind, 

7%^. If fight & fhape be true, why then my loue adieu 

Rof, He haue no Father, if you be not he : 
He haue no Husband, if you be not he : 125 

Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not fhee. 

Hy. Peace hoa : I barre confufion, 
'Tis I mud make conclufion 
Of thefe mod ftrange euents : 

Here's eight that muft take hands, 130 

To ioyne in Hymens bands, 

119. [To the Duke] Rowe et seq. 123. Two lines, Pope et seq. 

120. To you] Or. To you F^F^. 124. [To the Duke] Johns, et seq. 
[To Orl.] Rowe et seq. 1 25. [To Orl.] Johns, et seq. 

122. ftght] shape Johns, conj. Dyce 126. [To Phe.] Johns, et seq. 

iii, Coll. iii, Huds. 

renounced her if she had not. The stage-directions in Rowe are to be accepted with 
the respect due to the directions which most probably governed the stage of Shake- 
speare himself. At the same time it may be permitted to doubt whether the change 
to woman's dress has anything to do with a change of *• his ' to her. It is by no means 
certain that when we adopt * her hand * and * her bosom * we are following Shake- 
speare ; but our leader may be the admirable, though prosaic, Malone. It is conceiv- 
able that the text as we have it is just as it should be. First, on that sound, healthy 
principle, too often neglected now-a-days, of durior lectio^ &c. ; and, secondly, since 
Orlando had wooed his love as a boy, nay, even been married to her as a boy, and 
had even in very truth once * joined his hand to his,' it is not, I think, over-refinement 
to suppose that the < mirth in heaven ' here prompts this allusion to the past, and by 
the use of * his ' we are reminded that though we have Rosalind before us, we are not 
to forget Ganymede. — Ed.] 

122. sight] Johnson : The answer of Phebe makes it probable that Orlando says : 
* If there be truth in shaped that is, * if a form may be trusted ' ; if one cannot usurp 
the form of another. Walker {Crit. i, 306) : Read shape^ to which Phebe evidently 
refers. Shape is dress; see Gifford's Massinger \The Emperor of the East ^ III, iv, 
p. 294, where the word unquestionably means, as Gifford says, dress. Pulcberia sajrs 
to Eudocia, whom she had previously caused to be gorgeously clad in order to win 
her brother's heart : * When, .... The garments of thy sorrows cast aside, I put thee 
in a shape as would have forced Envy from Cleopatra, had she seen thee.* It was 
the dress, and the dress alone, that made the difference to Orlando between his Rosa- 
lind and his Ganymede. I yield to Johnson and to Walker as did the conservative 
Dyce in his last edition. Wright, however, does not accept shape in this sense : he 
adheres to the Folio. *■ Rosalind's woman's shape,' he explains, * was more fatal to 
Phebe's hopes than the mere fact of her identity, whereas her identity was everything 
to Orlando.' — Ed.]. 



28o AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

If truth holds true contents. 132 

You and you, no croffe fhall part ; 
You and you, are hart in hart : 

You, to his loue muft accord, 135 

Or haue a Woman to your Lord. 
You and you, are fure together, 
As the Winter to fowle Weather : 
Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we fmg, 

Feede your felues with queftioning : 140 

That reafon, wonder may diminifh 
How thus we met, and thefe things finifh. 

Song. 
Wedding is great lunos crowne^ 

blejfed bond of boord and bed: 145 

^Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne ^ 
High wedlock then be honored: 

Honor ^ high honor and renowne 
To Hyinen^ God of euerie Towne. 

Du, Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me, 1 50 

133. andyifu] and and you F . 136. [To Phe.] Johns. 

[To Orl. and Ros.] Johns, et 138. [To the Clo. and Aud.] Johns, 

ieq. 142. thefe things'] thus we Coll. (MS). 

134. [To Oli. and Cel.] Johns. 149. of euerie] in every Coll. (MS). 

132. contents] Johnson : That is, if there be truth in truths unless truth fails of 
veracity. Wright : This appears to be the only sense of which the poor phrase is 
capable. [It is merely a strong asseveration, stronger, perhaps (since there is no con- 
tradiction), than the occasion demands ; but then, what of that ? Hymen is always 
a little incomprehensible. Isabel, in Afeas. far Meas.y says : < truth is truth to the 
end of reckoning.* — Ed.] 

136. to your Lord] Compare Matthew^ iii, 9: * We have Abraham to our father.* 

137. sure] Schmidt: That is, indissolubly united, betrothed. 

140. questioning] Steevens: Though Shakespeare frequently ViSts 'question* 
for conversation^ in the present instance ' questioning * may have its common and 
obvious signification. [See III, ii, 360.] 

143. Song] White : Both the thought and the form of the thought in this * Song ' 
seem to me as unlike Shakespeare's as they could well be, and no less unworthy of 
his genius ; and for the same reasons I think it not improbable that the whole of 
Hymen*s part is from another pen than his. ROLFE : We are inclined to agree with 
White; and it may be noted also that lines 127-149 make an awkward break in the 
dialogue, which would run along very naturally without them. 

147. This should be punctuated, I think, if necessary, * High, wedlock then, be 
honored/ to indicate, at a glance, the word which < High * qualifies. — Ed. 



ACT V, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT a8i 

Euen daughter welcome, in no leffe degree. 151 

Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine, 
Thy fiiith, my iancie to thee doth combine. 

Enter Second Brother, 
2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two: 155 

I am the fecond fonne of old Sir Rowlandy 
That bring thefe tidings to this faire affembly. 
Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day 
Men of great worth reforted to this forreft, 

Addreft a mightie power, which were on foote 160 

In his owne conduft, purpofely to take 
His brother heere, and put him to the fword : 
And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came ; 
Where, meeting with an old Religious man, 164 

151. daughter welcome^ ^'9^3* <^o^gh- daughter Cartwright. 

ter^ welcome^ F^, Rowe, Pope, Cam. Rife, 152. [To Sil.] Coll. 

Wh. ii. ^flf/^i4/^-wr/(f<wi/, Theob. Warb. 154. Scene VIII. Pope + . 

Johns. Dyce iii, Huds. daughter, wel- Enter...] Enter Jaquesde Boyes. 

come Han. Cap. Steev. Mai. Cald. Knt, Rowe. 

Coll. i, ii, Sing. Wb. i, Dyce i, Sta. Ktly. 155. 2. Bro.] Jaq. de B. Rowe. de B. 

daughter y — welcome^ Coll. iii. as a Cap. 

151. daughter welcome] Walker {Crit. iii, 64] : Read Maugbtei welcome ' ; 
as welcome as a daughter. [Anticipated by Theobald. See Text. Notes.] Dowden 
i^TTie Academy y 19 Jan. 1S84) : Is not Shakespeare at his old trick of blundering 
about no less, and does he not mean * Even a daughter is welcome in no higher 
degree than you, my niece?' Littledale [The Academy, 26 Jan. 1884): Surely 
there is no need to explain * no less ' as a mere blunder for no higher. A comma 
after ' daughter ' (and even so much is not essential) yields the natural sense : * O my 
dear niece .... nay, my daughter, welcome, in no less (or lower) degree than that of 
daughter, not in the more distant relation of niece.' Allen (MS) : That is, I address 
you, not as niece merely, but as daughter, since thou art welcome in no less degree 
than daughter. 

153. combine] Steevens: That is, to bind; as in Meas. for Meas. IV, iii, 149: 
• I am combined by a sacred vow.* 

154. Second Brother] Collier: He is thus called to avoid confusion with the 
' melancholy Jaques.' [The ' confusion ' could arise only in print, and could not last 
long even there ; he says at once that he is old Sir Rowland's second son. — Ed.] 

160. Addrest] Caldecott: Prepared. White: At this day and in this country 
it is perhaps necessary to point out that Jaqlies de Bois means that Duke Frederick 
made ready a mighty power, not that he made a speech to them. 

164. old Religious man] Francois-Victor Hugo (p. 58) : Sous le froc v6n6- 
rable du solitaire, c'est la nature elle-mfime qui s'est r6v61ie It Fr6d6ric. C'est la 
nature qui I'a zxttXJk au passage et qui, par cette voix sainte, lui a cri6 : Tyran, tyran, 
pourquoi me persicutes-tu ? Le due est entr6 dans la forftt par la route de Damas. 



2b2 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

After fome queftion with him, was conuerted 165 

Both from his enterprize, and from the world : 

His crowne bequeathing to his banifhM Brother, 

And all their Lands reftor'd to him againe 

That were with him exil'd. This to be true, 

I do engage my life. 1 70 

Du, Se, Welcome yong man : 
Thou offer'ft fairely to thy brothers wedding : 
To one his lands with-held, and to the other 
A land it felfe at large, a potent Dukedome. 
Firft, in this Forreft, let vs do thofe ends 175 

That heere vvete well begun, and wel begot : 
And after, euery of this happie number 
That haue endur'd fhrewM daies, and nights with vs, 178 

168. to hifft] Ff, Coll. i. to them Rowe Cald. brother^ s F^, Rowe ii, Pope, Theob. 
et cet. Warb. Johns. Mai. Coll. iii, Wh. ii. 

169. /tf ^^] /«?/r(7z/^ Abbott, so quoted, brothers^ Cap. et cet. 
§ 354. 176. wete\ were Ff. 

172. brothers] F^F^, Rowe i, Han. 

Un rayon d'en haut a perc6 la nue, et, 6clair6 par cette clart^ divine, le despote a 
reconnu toute Thorreur de son despotisme. Le bourreau du droit en est devenu 
I'apdtre. II s'est prostemd devant les v^rit^s qu'il venait combattre. Usurpateur, il 
areni6 1' usurpation: porte-sceptre, il s'est d6fait de la couronne; bomme de guerre, 
il a mis bas les armes; porte-glaive, il a rendu son 6p6e k la nature anachorite et il 
s'est constitu6 prisonnier du desert. 

1 68. to him] Collier in his first edition retained this obvious misprint, on the 
ground that the converted Duke restores to the banished Duke all the lands of those 
who were exiles with him, in order that the latter might afterwards restore these lands 
to their former owners. * The Duke,' he says, * afterwards tells his nobles [line 180] 
that he will give them back their estates.' Dyce, however, points out (J^emarJh, p. 
64) that Collier mistook the meaning of line 180, where 'states' does not mean 
estatesj but that the line means, * all my faithful followers shall receive such rewards 
as suit their various stations.' Collier afterwards followed his (MS) corrector, who 
followed Rowe. White thinks it conclusive that ' him ' is a misprint because of the 
verb < were ' in the next line. It is not impossible to suppose that the nominative to 
* were ' is contained in * their.* — Ed. 

168. all . . . restored] Wright: This may be grammatically explained either by 
regarding it as a continuation of the sentence in line 165, < was converted,' the inter- 
vening line being parenthetical ; or by supposing an ellipsis of were^ < all their lands 
were restored ' ; or, which seems best, as an independent participial clause, ' all their 
lands being restored.' 

169. This to be true] See Abbott, § 354, for instances of a 'noun and infinitive 
used as subject or object.' 

177. euery] For other examples of * every' used as a pronoun, see Abbott, § 12. 

178. shrew'd] *The air,' Hamlet says, 'bites shrewdly, it is very cold.' This 



ACT V. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 283 

Shal (hare the good of our returned fortune, 

According to the meafure of their ftates. 180 

Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie, 

And fall into our Ruflicke Reuelrie : 

Play Muficke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all, 

With meafure heapM in ioy, to'th Meafures fall. 

laq. Sir, by your patience : if I heard you rightly, 185 

The Duke hath put on a Religious life. 
And throwne into negleft the pompous Court 

2.Bro. He hath. 

laq. To him will I : out of thefe conuertites. 
There is much matter to be heard, and learned : 190 

you to your former Honor, I bequeath 

l^g, Jharc]¥^. ^tfzv Walker, so quot- 191. [To the Duke] Rowe. 

ed, Vers. 40. bequeath'] bequeath ; F,. be- 

180. ftates\ * states Coll. queath^ Rowe. 

allusion to ' shrewd days and nights/ here in the last words of the Duke, recalls 
to us the first, when he could smile at the churlish chiding of the winter's wind. — Ed. 

180. states] White: That is, of course, their estates. Dyce would read * states,* 
I. e. conditions. Dyce (ed. iii) : I certainly do read * states,' but as certainly I under- 
stand that reading to mean estates. Can Grant White for a moment suppose that 
when Theobald, Hanmer, Capell, Malone, Staunton, &c. printed (and rightly), as I 
do, *■ states,' without a mark of elision, they understood it to mean conditions f [See 
line 168.] 

185. Sir] Capell : To the duke; putting himself, without ceremony, between 
him and de Boys, and then addressing the latter : and the subject of this address is 
the most admirable expedient for Jaques to make his exit in character that ever human 
wit could have hit upon ; nor can the drama afford an example in which Horace's 
servetur ad imum has been better observ'd than in this instance. 

187. pompous] Of course, in its original true meaning, full of pomp. 

189. conuertites] Cotgrave; Covers [a misprint for Convers] : vn con. A con- 
uertite ; one that hath turned to the Faith ; or is woon vnto religious profession ; or 
hath abandoned a loose, to follow a godlie, a vicious to lead a vertuous, life. 

191. you to your . . . Honor] That this apparent inversion, whereby the Duke 
is bequeathed to his crown, puzzled the compositors, is clear from the punctuation, 
revealing, as it does, their attempts to grapple with the meaning. The compositor of 
the Second Folio was more successful, and has been universally followed. Schmidt, 
in the closing pages of his Lexicon (p. 1424), has given a list of passages, of which 
the present is one, where he says * the whole relation of ideas is inverted.' It is likely 
that he is correct in thus interpreting the present passage. It is, however, not impos- 
sible that the inversion is here intentional. There may be a covert, cynical intimation 
to the Duke that his crown is more substantial than he, that he is a mere chattel to be 
passed by bequest ; and, therefore, Jaques so phrases it that instead of bequeathing a 
legacy to a legatee he bequeaths a legatee to a legacy. — Ed. 

191. bequeath] Wright: Loosely used in the sense of < leave,' as above, line 



mj- 



284 ^S YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc iv. 

your patience, and your vertue, well deferues it 192 

you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit : 

you to your land, and loue, and great allies : 

you to a long, and well-deferued bed : 195 

And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage 

Is but for two moneths viftuall'd : So to your pleafures^ 

I am for other, then for dancing meazures. 

Dii.Se^ Stay, laques, ftay. 

laq. To fee no paftime, I : what you would haue, 2CX) 

He ftay to know, at your abandonM caue. Exit. 

192. de/ertifs] deserve Pope+, Coll. 195. [To Sil.] Rowe. 
Dyce iii, Huds. 196. [To the Clown] Rowe. 

193. [To Orl.] Rowe. 197. monethy] months F . 

194. [To Oli.] Rowe. 

167. Properly, like the A. S. becwcEj>an, it signifies only to g^ve by will, and is 
applied to personal property. This passage is not quoted by those who insist upon 
Shakespeare's intimate technical knowledge of law. [But we must remember that 
Jaques was about to join the Duke, who by *• putting on a religious life ' became dead 
to the world. By the use of this very word < bequeath ' Jaques intimates to us that 
he too will become the same. — Ed.] 

192. desenies] For this singular after two nominatives, see Abbott, §336, if 
necessary ; or Shakespeare, passim, 

201. Steevens: Amid this general festivity, the reader may be sorry to take his 
leave of Jaques, who appears to have no share in it, and remains behind unreconciled 
to society. He has, however, filled with a gloomy sensibility the space allotted to 
him in the play, and to the last preserves that respect which is due to him as a con- 
sistent character and an amiable, though solitary, moralist. It may be observed, with 
scarce less concern, that Shakespeare has, on this occasion, forgot old Adam, the ser- 
vant of Orlando, whose fidelity should have entitled him to notice at the end of the 
piece, as well as to that happiness which he would naturally have found, in the return 
of fortune to his master. Farmer : It is the more remarkable that old Adam is for- 
gotten ; since, at the end of the novel. Lodge makes him * captaine of the king's 
guard.' [Or, in other words, William Shakespeare was not Thomas Lodge. — Ed.] 
Maginn (p. 90) : Whether he would or not, Jaques departs from the stage with the 
grace and easy elegance of a gentleman in heart and manners. He joins his old 
antagonist, the usurping Duke, in his fallen fortimes ; he had spumed him in his pros- 
perity ; his restored friend he bequeaths to his former honour, deserved by his patience 
and his virtue, — ^he compliments Oliver on his restoration to his land, and love, and 
great allies, — ^wishes Silvius joy of his long-sought and well-earned marriage,— cracks 
upon Touchstone one of those good-humoured jests to which men of the world on the 
eve of marriage must laughingly submit, — ^and makes his bow. Moberly: It is 
remarkable that Jaques himself had been convicted by the Duke of being a ' con- 
vertite,' whose new-bom morality was not likely to do much good to the world. Thus, 
therefore, he ends as he began; learning from profligacy, and cherishing as if it 
were wisdom, that contempt of mankind and their affairs which came to Hamlet only 
through misery, and was hated by him as a fresh misery. He has failed to learn the 



jm 



ACT V. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 285 

Du, Se, Proceed, proceed : wee'l begin thefe rights, 202 

As we do truft, they'l end in true delights. £xi^ 

Rof. It is not the fafhion to fee the Ladie the Epi- 
logue : but it is no more vnhandfome, then to fee the 205 
Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs 
no bulh, 'tis true, that a^^oodolay needes no Epilogue. 207 

202. wr^/]Wh. i. t»riw7/Ffetcet 203. truft, they I end'\ trust they'll 
rights'] Ff. rites Rowe. endy Pope. 

203. As"] And Var. '03, '13, '21, Cald. Exit.] Om. Ff et seq. A Dance. 
Knt. Cap. 

203. Epilogue. Theob. ii. 

lessons either of prosperity or of adversity ; has, to the last, eyes for nothing but the 
meanness of human nature ; and is, to the last, the type of the man characterised in 
Bacon's striking sentence : < He that is prudent may seek to have a desire ; for he who 
does not strive after something with eagerness finds everything burdensome and 
tedious.' 

203. As] In Reed's Variorum of 1803 this appears as And. It is probably a mere 
misprint, but its vitality is surprising. — Ed. 

203. Exit] Collier : The universal modem stage-direction here [see Text. Notes] 
is * a dance,' which probably followed the Duke's speech. . . . There seems no suffi- 
cient reason why the Duke should go out before the conclusion of the Epilogue^— 
nevertheless, according to the custom of our old stage, he may have done so. [Appa- 
rently, he did not do it in 1632. See Text. Notes. — Ed.] White : It appears that 
this * Exit ' is an accidental repetition of that intended for Jaques just above. 

204. not the fashion] G. S. B. ( The Prologue and Epilogue, &c. p. 13) : The 
dramatists of the early age of our drama did not begin (habitually, at least) to assign 
their Prologues and Epilogues to the characters of the play so soon as we should sup- 
pose from the instances of such a practice which we find in As You Like It, The 
Tempesty and in several other plays of Shakespeare. Some contemporaries of Shake- 
speare, no doubt, adopted the practice ; but, though by the time of Congreve and 
Wycherley, and even of Dryden, it had become usual, it was rather the exception 

than the rule in the sixteenth century The next decided novelty, as regards 

the character of the person deputed to speak the Prologue, was introduced in 1609, 
when a female character (not a woman, of course, as women had not begun to act at 
this time, but a boy-actor personating a female) spoke the Prologue to Every Woman 
in her Humour. The stage-directions are : * Enter Flavia, as a Prologue ' ; and, hav- 
ing entered, she says, * Gentles of both sexes, and of all sorts, I am sent to bid ye 
welcome. I am but instead of a Prologue, for a she-Prologue is as rare as a usm^r's 
alms.' So also Rosalind feels bound to justify what was not yet an established usage. 
. . . Not long af^er the introduction of Killigrew's and D'Avenant's actresses at the 
Restoration, we find women, instead of boys, in female characters, speaking both Pro- 
logues and Epilogues. Nell Gwynne, Mrs Mountford, and Mrs Bracegirdle became 
particularly noted for their art in this respect, and one or other of them was often 
selected for the purpose by Dryden and his fellow-dramatists. 

207. bush] Steevens : It appears formerly to have been the custom to hang a 
tuft of ivy at the door of a vintner. I suppose ivy was chosen rather than any other 
plant, as it has relation to Bacchus. So in Gascoigne's Glass of Government, 1575 : 



286 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

Yet to good wine they do vfe good bufhes : and good 208 

playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues: 

What a cafe am I in then, that am neither a good Epi- 210 

* Now a days the good wyne needeth none ivye garland.' Again in Summer's Last 
Will and Testament ^ 1600: Green ivy-bushes at the vintners' doors.' RiTSON: The 
practice is still observed in Warwickshire and the adjoining counties at statute-hirings, 
wakes, &c. by people who sell ale at no other time. Halliwell : Chaucer alludes 
to the bush, and its customary position appended to an ale-stake or sign-post, when he 
sp)eaks of *A garland hadde he sette upon his hede As gret as it were for an alestake.' 
— Prologue y 668. [The allusions to this custom are endless. — Ed.] H. C. Hart 
{JSh. Sac. Trans. 1877-9, ^^^ iii» P- 461) : Holly and ivy would no doubt, from their 
freshness and greenness, have been used fix}m the earliest period as symbols of rejoi- 
cing ; but in reference to wine, ivy bears a further meaning, without a knowledge of 
which the real force of the proverb is, I believe, lost. This may be proved from 
abundant sources, but the following will suffice : *■ In their feasting, they would some- 
times separate the water from the wine that was therewith mixed, as Cato teacheth " de 
re rustica " (c. 3), and Pliny (1. 16, c. 35) with an ivie cup would wash the wine in a 
bason full of water, then take it out again with a funnel pure as ever.' — Rabelais, Bk. 
i, ch. 24, Ozell's Trans. And again, * after that ; how would you part the water from 
the wine and purify them both in that case ? I understand you well enough, your 
meaning is that I must do it with an Ivy Funnel.' — lb. Bk. iil, ch. 52. And Gervase 
Markham : ' If it came to pass that wine have water in it, and that we find it to be 
so, ... . cause a vessel of ivie wood to be made, and put therein such quantitie of wine 
as it will hold, the water will come forth presently, and the wine will abide pure and 
neate.' — TTie Countrie Farmty Bk. vi, ch. 16. Hence the meaning of the proverb 
would appear to be that good (that is to say, pure or neat) wine would not, like diluted 
wine, require ivy to make it drinkable ; otherwise the saying means no more than that 
humanity has wit enough to find its way to a good thing without beiog directed, 
which is neither a very pointed, nor yet a very true, remark. But that this was the 
meaning of the proverb we are not without actual proof, thus : * The common saying 
is, that an ivie bush is hanged at the Taveme-dore to declare the wine within ; But 
the nice searchers of curious questions affirme this the secret cause, for that that tree 
by his native property fashioned into a drinking vessel plainly describeth unto the eye 
the subtile art of the vintner in mingling licors, which else would lightly deceive the 
thirsty drinker's taste.' — Accedens of Armorie, Gerard Leigh, 1 591 : Richard Argol 

to the Reader In Ray's Proverbs may be found its Italian, French, Latin, and 

Spanish equivalents. 

210. then] Johnson: Here seems to be a chasm, or some other depravation, 
which destroys the sentiment here intended. The reasoning probably stood thus: 
' Good wine needs no bush, good plays need no Epilogue ' ; but bad wine requires a 
good bush, and a bad play a good Epilogue. * What case am I in, then ?' To restore 
the words is impossible ; all that can be done, without copies, is to note the fault 
M. Mason : Johnson mistakes the meaning of this passage. Rosalind says, that 
good plays need no Epilogue ; yet even good plays do prove the better for a good 
one. AMiat a case, then, was she in, who had neither presented them with a good 
play, nor had a good Epilogue to prejudice them in favor of a bad one! Kenrick 
(Rev. of Johnson, p. 71) : It can hardly be called a supposition that Shakespeare 
wrote tho^ instead of < then.' It is obvious he must, as he plays on the word ' good ' 



ACT V, sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 287 

logue, nor cannot infinuate with you in the behalfe of a 211 
good play? I am not fumifh'd like a Begger, therefore 
to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure 
you, and He begin with the Women. I charge you (O 
women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much 215 
of this Play, as pleafe you : And I charge you (O men) 
for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your 
fimpring,none of you hates them) that betweene you, 218 

211. nor cannot'^ nor can Pope + , M^w Steev. '93. 
Stecv. '85. 216. And/] and so /Steev. '93. 

216. ^Ua/t you] pUafes you F^F^, 218. hates] hate Pope+, Steev. Mai. 

Rowe, Pope, Theob. Johns. Mai. pleases them) that] them) to like as much 

them Han. Warb. Cap. Steev. '85. please as pleases them, that Han. Warb. Cap. 

all through the passage, not once introducing the epithet dad, made use of by Dr 
Johnson, nor hinting at the antithesis which the editor conceives so necessary to the 
sense. Tho\ at the end of a sentence, is commonly used in discourse for however, 
and has the same meaning as hit at the beginning of it. Thus it is the same thing 
as if the speaker had said, *But what a case,' &c. 

211. insinuate with] Schmidt supplies other instances of this use in the sense <if 
ingratiating one's self. 

212. fumish'd] Johnson : That is, dressed; so before [HI, ii, 240] he was fur- 
nished like a huntsman. 

216. please] Abbott, § 367, gives this as an example of the < subjunctive used 
indefinitely after the Relative.' Wright gives as a parallel instance : * Yes, faith, it 
is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say, " Father, as it please you." ' — Much Ado, 
n, i, 56, where it is used impersonally. But Walker (CnV. i, 206) well suggests 
that there may be * a double meaning here : as may be acceptable to you /' and so, 
indeed, it seems to have been interpreted by the older editors down to Steevens. 

216, 218. please you: . . . that betweene] Warburton: This passage should 
be read thus, ' to like as much of this play as pleases them : and I charge you, O 
men, for the love you bear to women (as I perceive, &c.), to like as much as pleases 
them, that between you,* &c. Without the alteration of * you ' into them the invo- 
cation is nonsense ; and without the addition of the words to like as much as pleases 
them, the inference of, 'that between you and the women the play may pass' [sic], 
would be unsupported by any precedent premises. The words seem to have been 
struck out by some senseless Player, as a vicious redundancy. Heath (p. 155) : As 
[Warburton] hath managed his cards, the poet is just between two stools. The men 
are to like only just as much as pleased the women ; and women only just as much 
as pleased the men ; neither are to like anything from their own taste ; and if both 
of them disliked the whole, they would each of them equally fulfil what the poet 

desires of them But Shakespeare did not write so nonsensically ; he desires the 

women to like as much as pleased the men, and the men to set the ladies a good 
example ; which exhortation to the men is evidently enough implied in these words, 
* that between you and the women, the play may please.' [Although Capell must 
have seen Heath's criticism (he refers more than once to Heath with commendation, 
as well he might), he was nevertheless borne down by Warburton's confidence, and 



288 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v. sc. iv. 

and the women, the play may pleafe. If I were a Wo- 219 

not only * subscribes to his reasoning very heartily,' but actually inserted Warbuiton'8 
words in the text. Johnson did not follow Warburton in his text, but of the change 
of * please you ' into pleases them, he says] : The words you and ^, written as was 
the custom in that time, were in manuscript scarcely distinguishable. The emen- 
dation is very judicious and probable. Malone: The text is sufficiently clear with- 
out any alteration. Rosalind's address appears to me simply this : ' I charge you, O 
women, for the love you bear to men, to approve as much of this play as affords you 
entertainment ; and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women [not to set 
an example to, but] to follow or agree in opinion with the ladies ; that between you 
both the play may be successful.' The words * to follow, or agree in opinion with, 
the ladies,' are not, indeed, expressed, but plainly implied in those subsequent : * that, 
between you and the women, the play may please.' In the Epilogue to s Henry IV 
the address to the audience proceeds in the same order : * All the gentlewomen here 
have forgiven [i. e. are favourable to] me ; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentle* 
men do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an 
assembly.* Grant White : Warburton's suggestion would be plausible, were not 
the whole speech a bit of badinage. [Heath seems to have disposed of Warburton's 
suggestion once and for ever. — Ed.] 

219. If I were a Woman] Hanmer : Note that in this author's time the parts 
of women were always performed by men or boys. [There can be no doubt that 
Hanmer is right. There is, however, one unfortunate little phrase in Tom Coryat's 
Crudities which has never been explained, except by conjecture. Coryat was in Ven- 
ice in August, 1608, and writes as follows (p. 247, ed. 1611 ; vol. ii, p. 16, ed. 1776) : 

* I was at one of their play-houses where I saw a Comedie acted. The house is very 
beggarly and base in comparison of our stately Play-houses in England : neyther can 
their Actors compare with vs for apparell, shewes, and musick. Here I obsenied 
certaine things that I neuer saw before. For I saw women acte, a thing that I neuer 
saw before, though / haue heard that it hath beene sometimes vsed in London, and 
they performed it with as good a grace, action, gesture, and whatsoeuer convenient 
for a Player, as euer I saw any masculine Actor.' Collier explains this allusion to 
actresses in London by supposing that Coryat refers to companies of foreign actors. 
But were this so, Coryat's contrast between the English stage and the Venetian stage 
would lose its point. Still, for lack of any better, this explanation of Collier's must 
suffice. We know that some years after this, foreign actors did perform in London. 
Collier {^Annals of the Stage, vol. i, p. 451, ed. 1879) says substantially as follows : 
The year 1629 is to be especially marked as the first date at which any attempt was 
made in this country to introduce female performers upon our public stage. The 
experiment was tried, though without success, by a company of French comedians at 
the Blackfriars' Theatre. On the 4th of November, 1629, Sir H. Herbert received 
2/. as his fee * for the allowing of a French company to play a farce at Blackfriars'.' 
In Prynne's Histriomastix (1633, p. 414) is inserted a marginal note in these words : 

* Some French-women, or monsters rather, in Michaelmas term, 1629, attempted to act 
a French play at the playhouse in Blackfriars, an impudent, shameful, unwomanish, 
graceless attempt.' [From a private letter written by one Thomas Brande, which 
Collier discovered among some miscellaneous papers in the library of the Archbishop 
of Canterbury at Lambeth, bearing date the 8th of November, the following extract 
is given :] ' Furthermore you should know, that last daye certaine vagrant French 



ACT V. sc. iv.] AS YOU LIKE IT 289 

[If I were a Woman] 
players, who had beene expelled from their owne countrey, and those women, did 
attempt, thereby giving just offence to all vertuous and well-disposed persons in this 
town, to act a certain lascivious and unchaste comedye, in the French tonge at the 
Blackfryers. Glad I am to saye they were hissed, hooted, and pippin-pelted from the 
stage, so as I do not thinke they will soone be ready to trie the same againe.' Brande 
was mistaken in supposing that their failure would deter them from renewing their 
attempt. A fortnight later they again appeared * for a daye * at the Red Bull. More 
than three weeks elapsed before they ventured once more to face an English audi- 
ence, when they chose the Fortune playhouse. But failure attended them here as 
elsewhere, and the Master of the Revels remitted half his fee on a representation of 
the unprofitableness of the speculation. * Some stress,' adds Collier, in a foot-note, 
* has been recently laid upon a MS in the British Museum, dated 1582, as showing 
that, even then, an actress had appeared in London ; but it only means that a boy 
" without a voice " had unsuccessfully played the part of a " virgin " at the theatre in 
that year.' Peck (A/emoirs of Miltony p. 233) suggests that the ladies may have acted 
at Court before women appeared in public, and hence may have arisen any allusions 
which precede in date the year when we know with certainty that women first took 
part in public performances. Ward (ii, 422) says that * in the masks at Court ladies 
constantly took part as performers ; so that when in Christmas, 1632-3, the Queen 
with her ladies acted in a Pastoral at Somerset House, there was no real novelty in 
the proceeding.* Langbaine (p. 117), speaking of King John and Maiilday a Trag- 
edy, * printed in quarto, Lond. 1655,' says that it was published by * Andrew Penny^ 
cutcke, who acted the part of Matilda, Women in those times not having appeared on 
the stage.' It seems not unlikely that in this, as in other things, the change was grad- 
ual, and it is extremely probable that it arose from necessity. During the eighteen 
years, from 1642 to 1660, while the theatres were suppressed, the young boys who 
had been trained to act as women had grown to man's estate, with valanced faces. 
The incongruity, therefore, between the actor and his part must have been monstrous. 
As Jordan, in 1662, said : 

' For to speak truth, men act, that are between 
Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen ; 
With bone so large, and nerve so incompliant, 
When you call Desdemona— enter Giant.' 

Of course, reform was necessary, and what innovation could be more natural than 
that women should assume the roles of women ? Accordingly, very soon after the 
re-opening of the theatres, possibly at the very re-opening, or within a few months at 
least, we find Pepys (as noted by Wright) thus recording : * January 3, 1660. To the 
Theatre, where was acted " Beggar's Bush," it being very well done ; and here the 
first time that ever I saw women come upon the stage.' Again, * Feb. 12, 1 660-1. 
By water to Salsbury Court play-house, where not liking to sit, we went out again, 
and by coach to the Theatre, and there saw " The Scornful Lady," now done by a 
woman, which makes the play appear much better than ever it did to me.' It needs 
no great penetration to see that a change which made a * play please much better 
than ever it did ' before was likely to become permanent. It is, I believe, generally 
conceded that the first play in which it was openly announced that women would 
take part is Othello, for which a Prologue heralding the fact was printed in 1662, 
19 



290 AS YOU LIKE IT [act v, sc. iv. 

man, I would kiffe as many of you as had beards that 220 
pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that 
I defiMe not : And I am fure, as many as haue good 
beards, or good faces, or fweet breaths, will for my kind 
offer, when I make curt'fie,bid me farewell. Exit. 224 



FINIS. 



224. curt^Jle] my curtesy Ktly. 224. Exit.] Exeunt. Ff. Exeunt Om- 

nes. Pope. 

and from which some lines have just been quoted. Who was the first performer of 
Desdemona remains in doubt Dyce (Shirley's Works, v, 353) found evidence, 
though he does not give it, which satisfied him that it was Mrs Hughs. Malone 
(Var. '21, iii, 126) says that it is *the received tradition that Mrs Saunderson was 
the first English actress.' (See Othello^ p. 397, of this edition, where the subject is 
more fully discussed.) — Ed. 

221. lik'd me] See Schmidt, s. v. 2, for many other instances of this use in the 
sense of to plectse. 

222. defi'de] Nares : To reject, refuse, renounce. 

224. farewell] Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833): But Rosalind, — she is 
the Star, the Evening and the Morning Star, — setting and rising in that visionary, 
sylvan world, — and we leave her, — ^unobscured, — ^but from our eyes hidden,— in that 
immorul umbrage. 




APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 



THE TEXT 



The Text of this play is derived from the First Folio of 1623 ; no copy of it in a 
separate form, or Quarto in shape, is known to exist. That its publication in such a 
form was at one time intended, we learn from TTie Stationers^ Registers. 

The early volumes of these Registers are designated by the letters of the alphabet 
The volume €, containing entries of books from 1595 to 1620, has in the beginning a 
couple of leaves containing sundry somewhat promiscuous notes, the earliest dated 
August, 1595, and the last. May, 1615 ; in all about sixteen or seventeen in number. 
With two or three exceptions all these notes, when they refer to the entries of books, 
contain a caveat, or warning that permission to print is not accorded unless upon better 
proof of ownership than the printer offers at the time the note is made. In the mean 
time the printer is restrained or * staied ' from issuing the book. These two leaves 
look, in fact, like a * Blotter,' or a rough * Gieck-list ' to help the clerk's or the Master 
Warden's memory in the granting of future entries ; and, moreover, it looks as if the 
clerk had begun this especial list at the top of the third page, and after two or three 
entries had gone back to the first. With the exception of the very first note of all, 
at the top of the first page, which is dated 1596, and does not refer to the printing of 
books, but is merely a memorandum of a business detail of the Stationers' Company, 
every item on the first and second pages is of a date subsequent to that at the top of 
the third page. This detail, trivial though it be, is not unimportant if we learn from 
it with what carelessness all these items were set down, and consequently how much 
uncertainty in the matter of chronology must attend every entry on these leaves where 
the exact date is not explicitly set forth— a misfortune which happens to be true of 
the item containing the title of the present play. It is among these irregular items 
on this fiy-leaf, as it were, of the Register that the memorandum containing the title 
of As Ycu Like It is to be found, and it is dateless. 

The last entry at the foot of the second page (Arber's Transcript^ iii, 36) is of a 
ballad, * to be stayed,' of the * Erie of Essex going to Cales ' ; its date is * vltimo maij 
[1603].' The top of the third page begins, and continues as follows : [Be it observed 
that the entry to Thomas Thorp and william Aspley, which follows the As Vim Like 
It item, and is here reprinted merely to show the way in which that item falls in with 
the others on the page, is quoted by Malone as of the 23 January , an error (that is, 
if Arber's Reprint is correct) quite insignificant, it is true, but which has been fol- 
lowed by Halliwell, Stokes, and all other later editors who have referred to the item] : 

293 






294 



APPENDIX 



27 may 1600 
To master 
Robertes 
27 May 
Tohym 



*■ my lord chamberlens memis plaies Entred 

viz 

A moral of clothe breches and velvet hose 

AUarun to London/ 

As you like yt/a booke 
Henry the Ffift/a booke 
Euery man in his humour /a booke 
The commedie of muche A doo about nothing 
a booke/ 



> to be stated 



Thomas Thorp 
William Aspley 



28 Jtmti/1008 
This is to be their copy gettinge aucthority for it/ &c. 



It is to be noticed that there is, as I have already mentioned, no date in the margin 
opposite this As You Like It item, nor any date following < August' Malone ( Var, 
^2iy vol. ii, p. 367) says that *■ it is extremely probable that this " 4 of August " was of 
*the year 1600; which, standing a little higher on the paper, the clerk of the Sta- 

* tioners' Company might have thought unnecessary to be repeated,' especially, too, if, 
as I have suggested, these leaves were a mere rough check-list for his own use and 
behoof. But the Registers themselves, further on, supply us with evidence which is 
abundantly satisfactory that this is the August of the year 1600. On the 14th of August 
in the ' 42 Reg^ne ' {i. e. 1600) we Bnd that certain books were entered to Thomas 
Pavyer (Arber, iii, 169), and among them is * The hiatorye of Henry the V**» with the 
' battell of Agencoiut.' * These Copyes foUowinge,' says the entry, ' beinge thinges 

* formerlye printed and sett over to the sayd Thomas Pavyer.' On the same day in 
this month of August Master Burby and Walter Burre entered ' a booke called Euery 
man in his humour.' And nine days later, on the 23d, there was ' entred ' to Andrewe 
Wyse and William Aspley * Two bookes. the one called Muche a Doo about nothinge. 
< The other the second parte of the history of king Henry iiij^ with the humours of 
*Sir John FfallstafT: Wrytten by master Shakespere.' 

Unfortunately, no mention can elsewhere be found of As Vm Like It. But the 
appearance in 1600 of the other plays settles the date of the August item in < the 
check-list,' and we may be sure that in that year the present comedy existed, in some 
shape or other. 

There still remains to be considered in the As You Like It item that mysterious 
little sentence *■ to be staled.' On this we may exercise our ingenuity to our heart's 
content ; the field of our conjectures need be neither a desert nor nnpec^led. 

COLLISR (Introduction to Much Ado about Nothing) supposes that < the object of 

* the " stay " probably was to prevent the publication of Henry F, Every Man in his 

* Humour, and Much Ado by any other stationers than Wise and Aspley.' 

With this supposition Staunton agrees, and adds that * as the three other ^ books " 



THE TEXT 



295 



were issued by them in a quarto fornix probabilities are in favour of the fourth having 
been so published also. At all events, there are sufficient grounds for hope that a 
quarto edition may some day come to light.' 

Wright: *We can only conjecture that As You Like It was not subsequently 
entered, because the announcement of its publication may have been premature and 
the play may not have been ready. [To this conjecture Wright is led, because] 
even in the form in which it has come down to us there are marks of hasty work, 
which seem to indicate that it was hurriedly finished. For instance, the name of 
Jaques is given to the second son of Sir Rowland de Boys at the beginning of the 
play, and then when he really appears in the last scene he is called in the Folios 
" second Brother," to avoid confounding him with the melancholy Jaques. Again, 
in the First Act there is a certain confusion between Celia and Rosalind which is 
not at all due to the printer, and gives me the impression that Shakespeare himself, 
writing in haste, may not have clearly distinguished between the daughter and niece 
of the usurping Duke. I refer especially to I, ii, 78, 79 : "CTp. One that old Fred- 
" ericke your Father loues. Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him," &c. 
Theobald was the first to see that the last speaker must be Celia and not Rosalind, 
while Capell proposed to substitute Ferdinand for * Frederick ' in the Clown's 
speech, supposing the former to be the name of Rosalind's father. It may be said, 
of course, that this is a mere printer's blunder, and I cannot assert that it may not 
have been. But it would be too hard upon the printer to attribute to him the slip in 
Le Beau's answer (I, ii, 271) to Orlando's inquiry, which of the two was daughter 
of the Duke : ** But yet indeede the taller is his daughter," when it is evident from 
the next scene (I, iii, 121) that Rosalind is the taller. Again, Orlando's rapturous 
exclamation, " O heavenly Rosalind !" comes in rather oddly. His familiarity with 
her name, which has not been mentioned in his presence, is certainly not quite con- 
sistent with his making inquiry of Le Beau, which shewed that up to that time he 
had known nothing about her. Nor is Touchstone, the motley-minded gentleman, 
one that had l)cen a courtier, whose dry humour had a piquancy even for the worn- 
out Jaques, at all what we are prepared to expect from the early description of him 
as " the clownish fool " or " the roynish clown." I scarcely know whether to attrib- 
ute to the printer or to the author's rapidity oi composition the substitution of "Juno " 
for Venus in I, iii, 78. But it must be admitted that in the last scene of all there is 
a good deal which, to say the least of it, is not in Shakespeare's best manner, and 
conveys the impression that the play was finished without much care.' 

Fleay, in his Introduction to Shakespearian Study, 1877 (?• 24), says that this 
* " staying " was probably carried out, because the play was still acting at the Globe ' ; 
and in his Life and Work of Shakespeare, 1 886, he somewhat modifies this opinion. 
On p. 40, speaking of the * sta3ring ' of the plays mentioned in the As You Like It 
item, he says : * They were probably suspected of being libellous, and reserved for 

* further examination. Since the " war of the theatres " was at its height, they may 
< have been restrained as not having obtained the consent of the Chamberlain, on 

* behalf of his company, to their publication As You Like It was not allowed 

* to appear, the company probably objecting that it had only been on the stage for one 

* year.' And again on p. 140 : « I think [the staying] likely to have been caused by 

* the sup}x>sed satirical nature of the plays.' 

Wright's conjecture would carry conviction, if, in the course of time, after the * stay- 
ing,' a Quarto had actually appeared bearing all these marks of haste which Wright 
detects in the play as we now have it ; then all these oversights would make assur- 



296 APPENDIX 

ance double sure, and from this proven haste we might be not unreasonably certain 
that it was to gain time and thwart injurious stealth that the booke had been ' staied.' 
But no Quarto appeared at all, complete or incomplete ; and for twenty-three years 
the play carried these marks which Wright, and with much probability, attributes to 
haste. Rapid, miraculously rapid, the composition of As You Like It must have been, 
but the connection is not so obvious between this rapidity of execution on Shake- 
speare's part and a refusal to permit the play to be printed on the Warden's part. 
If the play could be acted, an unscrupulous printer might suppose it could be printed, 
and make the attempt to enter it at Stationers' Hall ; and if the author or legitimate 
owner had power enough to * stay ' the printing of this play and the others for a time, 
he would have, one would think, enough power to stay their printing altogether. 
But, as we see, the * stay ' was of the shortest in the case of Henry V. The prohi- 
bition lasted only ten days; on 14th of August, Thomas Pavyer received permission 
to print that play ; and nine days after that, Andrew Wyse received permission to 
print Much Ado. 

It is this same expeditious removal of the caveat which is also fatal, it seems to me, 
to Fleay's conjecture that the plays were * staied ' because they were satirical or libel- 
lous. However libellous Every Man in his Humour or Henry K might be, I cannot 
recall a single accusation of libel or of even keen satire in As You Like //, except 
the one or two accusations of satire against Jonson, which Tieck ui^es ; and these 
chaises were born and died in the learned German's brain. Certainly, Fleay himself 
specifies no libel in this play. And yet this is the very play of all where the * stay * 
is permanent. The libellous or satirical character ceased to be operative in the caso 
of all the others within the month. 

Of course, in cases like the present, where all our speculations must be, necessarily, 
of the vaguest and most shadowy character, it is easy to criticise and pick flaws. All 
the influences at work in connection with the printing of Shakespeare's plays we do 
not know and probably never shall know. Accordingly, in this realm of pure specu- 
lation a critic is a chartered libertine, and he may take up with any theory he may 
chance to meet. WTierefore, in the exercise of this right, I scarcely shrink from sug- 
gesting that one of the causes of all this * staying' (I have hinted at another one in 
* The Source of the Plot'), and at the bottom of all this entanglement over the printing 
of As You Like It^ was James Roberts. If we look back at the entries in the Sta- 
tioners' Registers^ we shall see that his is the last name before the As You Like It 
item set down as an applicant for an entry ; and the same needlessness which deterred 
the clerk from repeating, on this informal sheet, the date of the year, deterred him 
from repeating in the margin opposite the titles of these new * bookes ' the name of 
the applicant ; who was (is it not probable ?) this very same James Roberts. Now, 
this James Roberts was far from being one of the best of the Stationers, at least if we 
can judge from the fact that he came more than once under the ban of the Wardens 
and was fined by them. Perhaps it was that he violated the professional etiquette of 
the Stationers, which forbade a trespass on a neighbour's manor even when that neigh- 
bour had merely a prescriptive right to his manor and did not hold it by Letters Patent. 
The right to print certain books and certain classes of books was secured by Letters 
Patent to certain printers ; thus Letters Patent secured to Richard Tottell the exclusive 
right to print Law books, and to Tallis to print Music, and to Bowes to print Playing 
Cards, &c., &c., and to James Roberts, this same James Roberts, the right to prinl 
'Almanackes and Pronostycacyons.' But there were no Letters Patent guarding the 



%. 



THE TEXT 297 

right to print ' plaie bookes * ; only prescription could confer that, and courtesy guard 
it, especially as this branch of the trade may not have been in the best repute. Now, 
it looks much as if James Roberts felt at times that his horizon of Almanackes and 
Pronostycacyons was too restricted. (lie held the privilege for only twenty-one years, 
and the term had more than half expired in i6cx).) He once made an attempt 
on the Queen's Printer's realm of Catechisms, and was promptly repressed by the 
Master Wardens of the Stationers' Company, and fined. Next he seems to have 
turned his attention to the stage, and clasped itching palms with some of my Lord 
Chamberlain's men. In a mysterious way he gained possession of a copy of The 
Merchant of Venice^ and would have incontinently printed it, had not the Wardens 
* staied ' it, and staied it for two years too, at the end of which time James sold his 
copy to young * Thomas haies,' and at once proceeded to print a second and better 
copy for himself. Clearly, James Roberts was what the Yankees would call * smart,* 
or rather, in the true Yankee pronunciation, which gives a more admiring tone to it, 
*smah't.' I believe he had made some friends with the mammon of unrighteousness 
among my lx)rd Chamberlain's men, and by underhand dealings obtained possession 
of stage copies of sundry plays of Shakespeare which happened to be unusually 
popular. His name does not appear often in the Registers in these years. After he 
was foiled in his attempt to print The Merchant of Venice in 1598, he made one other 
entry towards the close of that year, and succeeded in getting permission to print 
Marston's Satires. Then in March of the next year he tried to enter a translation of 
Stephan's Herodotus^ but was * staied.' Again in the following October he was per- 
mitted to print a History of Don Frederigo^ but with the permission was coupled the 
very unusual condition that he should print * only one impression and pay six pence in 
the pound to the use of the poore ' ; manifestly, James Roberts was in ill repute. Hia 
next venture was in May, when he tried to enter *A morall of Clothe breches and 
velvet hose. As yt is Acted by my lord Chamberlcns ser\'antes,' but there follows the 
proviso * that he is not to putt it in prynte Without further and belter Aucthority.* 
Two days later, on the 29th of May, he again tried to enter a book : * the Allarum to 
London,* and again there follows the incvitai)le caveat * that yt be not printed with- 
out further Aucthorilie.' These two items, which appear in their proper order in the 
main body of the Registers^ the clerk, as I suppose, briefly jotted down on the blank 
page at the beginning of the book, as a reminder to keep his eye on James Roberts. 
When, therefore, on the 4th of August, James Roberts brought forward four more plays 
that were performed by * my lord chamberlen's menn,' the clerk noted them down 
on his fly-leaf under the others, and did not take the trouble to repeat James Rob- 
erts's name, which was already there in the margin opposite the * Clothe breches and 
velvet hose,* but added (what was almost the synonym of James Roberts) * to be 
staied.' 

This it was, the bad reputation of James Roberts, which caused the printing of 
these plays when first offered to be forbidden. Be it remembered that all this, on 
my part, is merely conjecture. What the circumstances were which, within the 
month, gave to Thomas Pavyer and Andrew Wyse and others the privilege of print- 
ing these very plays, we do not know, and cannot know unless some new sources of 
information are discovered. We must remember that Heminge and Condell, when 
they issued the First Folio, denounced every one of these printers as 'injurious 
imposters,' who had abused the public with * stolne and surreptitious copies.* Where 
the line was among the printers, which the Master W'ardens of the Stationers drew, 
blessing some and banning others, we cannot know. Only it looks as though where 



298 APPENDIX 

all were bad James Roberts was somehow among the worst, and that to his nnsayory 
reputation is due the fact that we have no Quarto edition of As You Like //. 

Staunton expressed the hope that a Quarto might yet be discovered. But I fear 
the hope is groundless. When Master Blounte and Isaak Jaggard received per- 
mission in 1623 to print the First Folio, a list of plays was made of such as *■ are not 
formerly entred to other men,' that is, of such of which there were no Quarto copies. 
In this list stands As You Like It, 

The conclusion, therefore, is safe that the only Text we shall ever have for thb play 
is that of the First Folio, and we may well congratulate ourselves that it is, on the 
whole, unusually good. 

The only voice dissenting from this opinion in regard to the excellence of the First 
Folio is that of Joseph Hunter, and his voice is very dissenting indeed. * The text 

* has come down to us,' he says (i, 331), * in a state of very gross corruption. Some- 

< times speeches are assigned to the wrong characters. Sometimes the corruptions 
' are in particular passages. There are within the compass of this play at least twenty 

* passages in which the corruption is so decided that no one would for a moment think 
*■ of defending the reading : and there are about fifteen where the probability of cor- 

* ruption is so great that the most scrupulous editor would think it his duty, if not to 
' substitute a better text, yet to remark in his notes the text as delivered to us and the 

< text as it probably should be.' I am afraid that the excellent Himter has here said 
more in a minute than he could stand to in a month. We might reasonably expect 
that after this prologue, which roars so loud of gross corruption and thimders in the 
index, he would help us bravely to a purer text in the fifteen or twenty passages 
which he had in mind. But, omitting his notes purely illustrative, in which he is 
always happy, bringing forth for us, from the stores of his great learning, things new 
and old,-— omitting these, his notes on the text, as such, amount to four in number, 
and of these four, two sustain and uphold the Folio. 

Knight's opinion is that *■ the text of the original Folio is, upon the whole, a very 

* correct one ;' and Grant White, much more emphatic in his praise, says that *the 

* text of As You Like It exists in great purity in the original Folio. Few of its cor- 

< ruptions are due to any other cause than the lack of proof-reading ; and those few 

* it is not beyond the power of conjectural criticism to rectify.' Of the two extremes, 
I think. Grant White is nearer the truth than Himter. Every student, however, with 
the Textual Notes in the present edition before him, can solve the question for him- 
self, and with decidedly more profit than if it were solved for him. Those who can 
find any pleasure in such a task will make the examination for themselves ; and for 
those who do not care for it, it would be a waste of time to prepare it. 

Halliwell (p. 261) notes the somewhat singular fact that * a copy of the First 

< Folio many years in the possession of the late James Baker of King's Arms Yard, con- 

* tains two cancelled leaves of As You Like It in sheet R, op rather two leaves, each 

* of which has been cancelled on account of one of the pages being wrongly printed. 

* The first is a cancel of sig. R, comprising pp. 193, 194, the first page being enon- 

* eously given as 203, and the signature as R 2. The second is the last leaf of the 

* sheet, pp. 203, 204, the second page of which is misprinted 194. There do not 

* appear to be any textual variations in consequence of these cancels, which are chiefly 

* curious as showing that the work received some corrections while in the process of 



THE TEXT 399 

< being passed through the press. In another copy of the First Folio, at p. 204, col. 

* I, the Qown's speech, "a ripe age," is given to Orlando, and William's speech, 

* immediately following it, is assigned to the Gown.' I am inclined to think that 
what Halliwell has here attributed to two copies is true of only one. The ' Baker 
copy * to which he refers is now in the Lenox Library in New York ; it is the cele- 
brated copy which is supposed to be dated 1622 instead of 1623 ; and it is on the 
cancelled page 204, misprinted 194, of this copy that the Clown's speech, <A ripe 
age,' &c. is given to Orlando, and William's speech given to the Qown ; so that to 
this extent there were textual variations in consequence of these cancels, and they 
are the only ones, in this play, mentioned by Lenox (p. 36) in his printed collation. 

In all copies, I believe, p. 189 is misprinted 187 ; and on p. 197 the running title 
is Ai Yoa Like It, 

Practically, the text of the Four Folios is one and the same. The discrepancies 
between the First and the Fourth are mainly such as we might expect in the changes 
of the language within the dates of publication. In the last century Steevens pro- 
fessed to give to the Second Folio a preference over the First. But I doubt if this 
preference sprang from any very deep conviction ; I am not sure that Steevens did not 
profess it mainly for the sake of annoying Malone, whose * learning and perspicacity ' 
Steevens extolled chiefly for the purpose, I am afraid, of calling him in the same sen- 
tence his * Hibernian coadjutor,' a cruel little stab at one who had tried to obliterate his 
nationality, it is said, by dropping, with the letter^, the accent on the final vowel of his 
name. In the present play there are two or three instances where unquestionably the 
Second Folio corrects the First. For instance, Oliver says (IV, iii, 150) : * I briefe, he 
led me to the gentle Duke ' ; this trifling tjrpographical error is corrected in the Second 
Folio to *^In brief he,' &c. Again, in line 163 of the same speech, Oliver says ' this 
napkin died in this blood,' where the Second Folio reads * died in his blood.' But 
these are insignificant, and not beyond the chance corrections of a good compositor, 
who, however, overshot the mark when he changed Rosalind's words (IV, iii, 71) 
from * false strains ' to * false itrings^ and did even worse for Orlando, when one of 
the finest sentences in the whole play was converted into limitless bombast. * I will 
chide no breather in the world,' says Orlando in the Second Folio, * but myself, against 
whom I know no faults.' It is a little singular that what is always in the First Folio 

* Monsieur ' is in the Second and following Folios, Mounsieur. Whether this indi- 
cates a change in general pronunciation from Elizabeth's time to Charles the First's, 
or is merely peculiar to one compositor, I do not know. 

The evidences of haste in this play, which Wright points out, such as the same 
name for two characters, the use of < Juno ' for Venus, and the like, are chargeable, I 
am afraid, to the author rather than to the printer. The conclusion then remains 
unshaken that in the First Folio we have an unusually pure text, and that in this, as 
in everything else about this delightful comedy, it is exactly As You Like It. 



/ 



3C50 APPENDIX 

DATE OF COMPOSITION 

The Date of the Composition of a Play may be approximated by External and 
by Internal evidence. External evidence, which is generally documentary, gives us a 
date before which a play must have existed in some shape or other, and Internal evi- 
dence, which consists of allusions, in the play itself, direct or indirect, to contemporary 
events, gives us a date after which the play must have been written. 

First, tlie External evidence in the case of As You Like It is the provisional entry 
in the Stationers' Registers^ which was discovered by Steevens. Although no publi- 
cation of the play followed this entry on the 4th of August, 1 600, yet this record has 
been accepted, not unnaturally, as sufficient proof that the play in some shape or other 
was in existence at that date. Wright thinks that * the play was probably written 

* in the course of the same year,' and conjectures that the reason why it was not after- 
ward entered for publication, in due form, is that * the announcement of its publi- 

* cation may have been premature and the play may not have been ready.' With the 
exception of Capell (who knew nothing of this entry in the Stationer^ Registers), 
and, perhaps, of Knight, no editor oversteps the date of this year, but all concede 
that the latest limit for the Date of Composition is 1600. Other External evidence^ 
than this in the Stationers^ Registers, there is none. 

For the earliest limit we must look to Internal evidence, with which the Play 
itself must supply us. From this source, however, we gain nothing either satisfactory 
or decisive, at least so decisive as to carry instant conviction. Before Steevens had 
discovered the memorandum in the Stationers^ Registers, Capell conjectured that 
the Date of Composition was about 1 607, and on two grounds : first, because at about 
that date < the foolery of masques was predominant ;' and secondly, because in Jaques's 

* lean and slippered Pantaloon ' he found an allusion to an obscure play of that date, 
called The Travels of Three English Brothers, wherein Will Kempe proposes to act 
the part of ' an old Pantaloune.' This is a good illustration of the small reliance 
which is in general to be placed on this Internal evidence. Had not the entry in 
the Stationers' Registers been subsequently discovered, probably no arguments could 
have conclusively disproved this far-fetched conjecture of CapelVs. 

In another piece of Internal evidence Capell was more successful. He discovered 
the * dead Shepherd ' to be Marlowe, whose saw : * Who ever loved that loved not at 

* first sight,' Phebe found to be of might. (Capell has not received the credit of this 
discovery ; it is always accorded to Malone. Capell gives, on p. 66 of his * School,' 
the extract containing this line from Hero and Leander.) Marlowe's poem was pub- 
lished in 1598. It was entered in the Stationers' Registers on the second of March, 
in that year. This seems to afford the earliest date after which the play was written, 
thus narrowing down the range to the years 1598, 1599, and 1 600. Some slight 
doubt, however, can be cast on 1598 as the very earliest date. Marlowe died in 
1593 ; and in the five years that passed before his Hero and Leander, with Chapman's 
conclusion, was printed, it is not impossible that Shakespeare may have read the line 
before it was published, — nay, even before Marlowe's death, while the poem was still 
in manuscript in Marlowe's hands. It is generally conceded that Lodge must have 
read the Tale of Gamelyn in some manuscript. W^hy may not Shakespeare, as 
Malone surmises, have thus read Hero and Leander, or, as Ilalliwell suggests, have 
heard it recited ? I cannot say that I think either supposition likely. The mere fact 
that the quotation is put in the mouth of Phebe implies that the poem, at that time, 
was well known and popular, and would be recognised by the audience. Still, these 



• ' *L, 



DATE OF COMPOSITION 301 

are suppositions which all have a right to make, and that we can make them, or others 
like them, in regard to allusions thus detected in this play, helps to reveal the imsure, 
shifting character of Internal evidence. 

Again in Orlando's verses : * From the East to farthest Ind^ No jewel is like Rosa- 
lind ; Her worth being mounted on the wind Through all the World bears Rosalind.' 
Chalmers (p. 382) sees * obvious allusions to the frequent voyages for distant dis- 

* covery, which seem to have ended, for a thne, in 1596.' Again, on p. 383, Chal- 
mers continues : ' It seems to be more than probable that the intrigues at Court, which 

* became apparent to every eye, after the return of Essex from Ireland, on the 28th 
*of September, 1599, may have extorted the sarcasm of the Duke's question: "Are 
* " not these woods More free ixovo. peril than the envious Court ?^^ * * If there be any 

* allusion,' Chalmers goes on to say, * in these reflections, to the fall of Essex, who 

* was sequestered from Court soon after his arrival, the epoch of As You Like It must 
*be fixed in the winter of 1599. There can be no doubt that it was imitated by 

* Drayton in his Owlf which was first published in 1 604.' 

Again, the negative proof is adduced that if the play had been acted before 1598, 
Fran'CIS Meres would have enumerated it, with the others which he mentions, in 
his well-known reference to Shakespeare. Cuthbert Burbie entered the Palladis 
Tamia on the 7th of September, 1598; of course Meres must have written it before 
that date, and although it does seem highly improbable that Mercs should have men- 
tioned such a play as The Comedy of Errors or Titus AndronicuSt and omitted As 
You Like Itf yet we must remember that Meres did not undertake to give a complete 
list ; it is to be presumed that only the most popular plays are there given, and if the 
play had only just then been brought out, its popularity could hardly have been 
sufficiently tested. Moreover, Meres's list of the plays of Shakespeare is longer than 
his list of any other poet, and he may not have cared to swell it. 

Again, in Rosalind's words, * I will weep for nothing like Diana in the fountain,' 
Whalley detected an allusion to a statue of Diana set up on the Eleanor Cross in 
Cheapside, *with water prilling from her naked breast' (see notes on IV, i, 147). 
According to IIalliwell, Stowe, in his edition of 1598, described this statue as per- 
fect and in use ; but in his edition of 1603 Stowe says that the statue is * now decayed.* 

* It is evident, therefore,' says Halliwell, * that if Shakespeare alludes to the Cheap- 
*side fountain, the words of Rosalind must have been penned somewhere between 
*the year 1596, when it was erected, and 1603, when it had been allowed to go to 

* ruin. At the same time, it should be remembered that the image of a fountain- 

* figure weeping was an exceedingly common one, and that Diana was a favorite 
•subject with the sculptors for such an object.* 

I think Shakespeare is entitled to more respect, to say the very least, than to sup- 
pose that in Rosalind's words he made any allusion to the Cheapside Diana. If that 
statue was perfectly familiar to his audience, and in running order, it is almost incon- 
ceivable that any hearer in that audience could ever have associated, for one single 
instant, this statue with Rosalind's weepings or that any amount of poetic license can 
so ludicrously defy the laws of physiology. 

Again, Wright says (p. vi), * there may possibly be a reference in V, ii, 71 (" By 
* " my life, I do ; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician *') to the 

* severe statute against witchcraft which was passed in the first year of James the 

* First's reign [1603]. Again, in IV, i, 180 (" by all pretty oaths that are not danger- 
* « ous ") we might imagine the Act to Restrain the Abuses of Players (3 Jac. I, chap. 
< 21, 1605) to be pointed at. But both these would give dates too late, and they may 



302 APPENDIX 

* easily have been added at some subsequent representation of the play, which was 

* mainly composed, as I think, in the year i6cx), and after the other plays which are 
'mentioned with it in the entry at Stationers' Hall.' 

TiECK is positive in his date of the composition. In his JVaf^s (p. 30S) he speaks 
of this comedy as * the most daring and defiant of all Shakespeare's comedies ; here 

< Shakespeare, with his palms and lions and snakes, laughs at time and place, and 

* derides all rules of composition ; nay, the very rules which he himself devised and 
' elsewhere practises he here parodies, and wends his wild and wanton way to make a 

* pure, free, joyous Comedy, which was assuredly first performed in the summer of 

* 1599. Therefore shortly after Twelfth Night. ^ Even if Tieck be correct in his 
conclusion, and other critics have adopted the same year, 1599, yet the reasons which 
have led him to it are, to say the least, fanciful. Tieck's knowledge of our early 
drama was remarkable, very remarkable for a foreigner and at that early date, in the 
first quarter of this century, but he can scarcely be accepted as a safe guide now. He 
had no drama nor early literature at home to study, and so was driven, as his coun- 
trymen ever since have been driven, to study those of other nations. In the present 
case he discovered that * B. Jonson, in Every Man Out of his Humour^ ridicules 

* the freedom from all rules which Shakespeare displayed in As You Like It* This 
ridicule was infused not only into the Prologue^ where it is pointedly said that *Art 
hath an enemy called Ignorance,' but throughout the running commentary in the play 
itself the rules which ought to govern comedy are pedantically laid down. ' The play 

< was a failure,' says Tieck, < and so in the year 1 600 Jonson brought out another com- 

* edy, Cynthia's Revels^ wherein he spoke even more offensively of himself as the great 

* reformer of the stage,' and throughout, so says Tieck, referred to Shakespeare ; but 
pre-eminently in the Epilogue, where Jonson vaunts himself, and, in contemptuous dis- 
regard of his audience, says of his own work : * By 'tis good, and if you like 't 

you may.' * The title of his play,' says Tieck, * which was not perhaps, at first, As 

< You Like Itf Shakespeare intended as a jest on Jonson's boastfulness and braggart 

< treatment of his audiences. In effect, Shakespeare says : " If you like it, and as you 
* " like it, it is a comedy. It is not so in itself, but only after you, the spectators, have 
* " so pronounced it by your applause." ' It is almost needless to call attention to the 
visionary supposition to which Tieck is forced to resort in order to support his theory, 
— ^viz. : that this comedy bore originally a different name ; without some such postulate 
his dates will not fadge. Tieck asserts that Every Man Out of his Humour was ' a 

* failure, which greatly irritated its author ' ; a sequence entirely credible when * B. 

* Jonson's ' temperament is remembered ; but that the play was a failure escaped the 
research of Gifford, who says of it : * its merits are unquestionable ; but I know not 
*its success.* 

W. W. Lloyd suspects that * Shakespeare's creation of Rosalind followed that ol 

* Portia, and pretty closely * ; it undoubtedly followed Portia, but if the date of The 
Merchant of Venice be about 1 5 96, and if the line from Marlowe be taken from the 
volume published in 159S, then at least two very busy years must have separated the 
Forest of Arden from the Garden of Belmont. 

MoBERLY says : * This charming comedy was probably represented in 1599, the 

* year when Essex was Lord Lieutenant in Ireland, and when a new Spanish Armada 
*was expected A period which may be called that of Shakespeare's highest 

* genius. He was then thirty-five years old ; his p>owers of thought were maturing, 

* and his language was pure, manly, and simple in the highest degree.* 

Fleay also adopts this year, 1599, as that wherein this comedy was written. The 




DATE OF COMPOSITION 303 

Globe Theatre was opened in the spring of that year, and among the plays produced 
after the opening was Henry Vy * and soon after in this year As You Like It.'' — Shake- 
speare's Life and IVark, p. 138. Again, on p. 208, Fleay says, * The date may, I 
' think, be still more exactly fixed from I, ii, 84, ** the little wit that fools have was 
'"silenced," which alludes probably to the burning of satirical books by public 
'authority 1st of June, 1599. Every indication points to the latter part of 1599 as 

* the date of production The comparison of the world to a stage in II, vii, sug- 

< gests a date subsequent to the building of The Globe, with its motto, Ta/us mundus 
' a^ histrionem ; and the introduction of a fool proper, in place of a comic clown, 
' such as is found in all the anterior comedies, confirms this : the " fools " only occur 

* in plays subsequent to Kempe's leaving the company.' I have no great faith in the 
allusion to the burning of the satirical books, but that the change from * clowns ' to 

* fools * should follow the retirement fix)m my lord Chamberlain's men of Will Kempe, 
the pre-eminent * clown,' is one of those shrewd, happy inferences which Fleay's 
through and through familiarity with the stage-history of Shakespeare's day enables 
him at times to make, with so much force. 

To the two kinds of evidence. External and Internal, concerning the Date of Com- 
position there may be added a third, — ^viz. : that derived from a close scrutiny and com- 
parison of the metre of the different plays. It is assumed that certain peculiarities 
of style or methods of poetic treatment will mark the growth of the dramatist, and 
that, in general, the Seven Ages will prove true of the inner as of the outer man. 
This idea had been floating dimly in men's mimis ever since it was first put forth by 
Edwards in his criticism of Warburton, in the last century. But it attracted little 
attention, despite the pleas put forth in its behalf by such fine minds as Spedding 
in England and Herzberg in Germany, until the JVinu Shakspere Socieiy arose and 
Fleay came to the fore with his laborious results of years of silent study. Since then 
a fierce light has beat on * weak endings * and * light endings,' on * end-stopped lines * 
and * pauses,' until now we have all of Shakespeare's plays as elaborately, if not as 
accurately, tabulated and calculated as the Ephemerides of the Nautical Almanac, 
If the results have not been quite commensurate with the outlay, it is not for a moment 
to be thought that the time for all the workers has been lost. Like the magic book 
of the physician Douban in the Arabian Tale, by merely turning the leaves of Shake- 
speare a subtle charm is imparted and absorbed. If in the first flush of accomplished 
work the advocates of this new test somewhat exaggerated their claims for its accu- 
racy, surely with Burke, who could * pardon some things to the spirit of Liberty,' we 
may pardon some things to the zeal for Shakespeare. And we should surely remem- 
ber such temperate words as these of Dr Ingram's, which we may accept as a sum- 
mary of the best thought on the subject : * I quite recognise the necessity of subordi- 

* nating verse-tests in general to the ripe conclusions of the higher criticism, if these 

* two sorts of evidence should ever be found at variance. But I believe that the more 

* thoroughly the former are understood, and the more scientifically they are used, the 

* more they will be found in accordance with the best aesthetic judgements. What 
•appears to me surprising is, not that the verse-tests should sometimes appear to 

* sanction wrong conclusions, but that they should, to such a remarkable extent, agree 

* amongst themselves, and harmonize with every other mode of investigation which 
'can be applied to the same questions.' 

Bathurst, who was the first, I believe, to apply systematically to all the plays the 
♦est of metre as a means of determining their chronology, says (p. 76) : *As You Like 



304 APPENDIX 

* It is in a more advanced style of metre than Much Ado [which was printed in 

* 1600] ; see, particularly, the si^eech of Jaques about the Fool, Orlando's speech, * If 

* you have,' &c. Double endings not unusual. Rhymes at the end of speeches occur. 

* One speech is in alternate rhymes, III, i. The " Seven Ages " are well known. 

* The verse there broken, though it is an enumerative passage. Weak endings : 
* " Swearing that we || Are mere usurpers." " For 'tis || The royal disposition of that 
* " beast." The speeches often end on a half-line, which is, I believe, always regu- 

* larly taken up. This is perfectly the reverse of an historical or political play. I 
'would put it as early as possible. So say 1598 or 1599.* 

Ingram, however, places it, according to its proportion of * Light and Weak End- 
ings,' after Much Ado. In his List {^New Shakspere Society^ s Transactions^ 1 874, 
Series I, p. 450) Much Ado is No. 14, As You Like It, No 15, and Twelfth Nighty 
No. 16. The Merchant of Venice is No. 9. This would put the date oi As You Like 
It well into 1600, and to that extent confirms Wright's conjecture. 

FuRNiVALL divides all the plays into * Periods,' and the * Periods * into * Groups.' 
This play is placed in * the Second Period,' and in a Group of * Three Sunny- or 

* Sweet-Time Comedies : Much Ado (1599-1600) ; As You Like It (1600) ; Twelfth 

* Night {l(>oi): 

DowDEN divides the Histories, Comedies, and Tragedies into Early, Middle, and 
Later each, and subdivides into Groups. The same three plays, just enumerated, he 
places in a Group of * Musical Sadness/ with Jaques as a link to the next Group of 
< Discordant Sadness.' 

To recapitulate : 

The Date of Composition of As You Like It is assigned by 

Collier to * summer of* 1598 

Dyce ^1598 

Neil 1598 

Bathurst, Grant White 1598 or 1599 

Hudson * between * 1598 and 1599 

Malone, Skottowe, Staunton, Haluwell, Cowden-Clarke, 

Moberly, Rolfe, Fleay 1599 

Rev. John Hunter 1599 or 1600 

Chalmers, Drake, Wright, Furnivall 1600 

Knight 1600 or 1601 

Capell 1607 

In conclusion, there is on this Date of the Composition a happy unanimity, which 
centres about the close of the year 1599 ; if a few months carry it back into 1598, or 
carry it forward almost to 1 601, surely we need not be more clamorous than a parrot 
against rain over such trifles. As I have said before, and shall repeat until I change 
my opinion, the whole subject is one which to my temperament has absolutely no 
relation whatsoever to the play itself or to the enjoyment thereof. An exact know- 
ledge, to the very day of the week, or of the month, when Shakespeare wrote it, can 
no more heighten the charm of Rosalind's loveliness and wit than would the know- 
ledge of the cost per yard of her doublet and hose. Does ever a question concerning 
the Date of Composition arise in our thoughts when we are sitting at the play ? Still, 
it would be a very grey, sombre world if we all thought alike, and undoubtedly to 



SOURCE OF THE PLOT 305 

many minds of far higher reach than mine the Date of the Gmiposition has charms : 
for such as seek information about it, in the foregoing pages a full and, I trust, impar- 
tial account of what has been written thereon will be found. 



SOURCE OF THE PLOT 



In 1754 Dr Zachary Grey {Critical^ Histaricaly and Explanatory Notes on 
Shakespeare^ vol. i, p. 156) wrote : * Several passages in this play were certainly bor- 

* rowed from the Cokeys Tale of Gamelyn in Chaucer,' and thereupon proceeded to 
give an abstract of this Tale of Gamelyn^ reciting the passages wherein Shakespeare 
had followed Chaucer, as Grey supposed. 

Some time after, both Capell and Farmer, in the same year, 1767, announced 
what was more nearly the truth, that As You Like It was founded, not on the Tale 
of Gamelyn^ but on a novel by Lodge. 

Capell, in the Introduction to his edition (p. 50), writes as follows : *A novel or 

* (rather) pastoral romance, intitl'd " Euphues* Golden Legacy f* written in a very fan. 

* tastical style by Dr Thomas Lodge, and by him first publish'd in the year 1590, in 

* quarto, is the foundation oi As you like it. Besides the fable, which is pretty exactl) 

* follow'd, the out-lines of certain principal characters may be observ'd in the novel ; 

* and some expressions of the novelist (few, indeed, and of no great moment) seem 

* to have taken possession of Shakespeare's memory, and thence crept into the play.' 

Dr Farmer's note is to be found in his Essay On the Learning of Shakespeare 
(one cannot but think, from the style and contents of this Essay, that a more exact 
title would have been On the Learning of Richard Farmer^ and the Ignorance of 
William Shakespeare), On p. 15 the essayist says : *As You Like It was " certainly 
* " borrowed," if we believe Dr Grey and Mr Upton, from the Cok^s Tale of Game^ 

* lyn^ which, by the way, was not printed till a century afterwards ; when, in truth, 
< the old Bard, who was no hunter of M.S.S., contented himself with Dr Lodge's 

* Rosalynd or Euphues^ Golden Legacy e,^ 

Steevens supplemented Fanner's remark with: 'Shakespeare has followed 

* Ix)dge's Navel more exactly than is his general custom when he is indebted to such 
' worthless originals ; and has sketched some of his principal characters and borrowed 
' a few expressions from it. His imitations, &c., however, are in general too insig- 
' nificant to merit transcription. It should be observed that the characters of Jaques, 

* the tHown, and Audrey are entirely of the poet's own formation.' 

This judgement of Steevens stirred Collier's indignation; in the Poetical 
Decameron (vol. ii, p. 176, ed. 1820) Collier exclaims, in reference to it, * Steevens 
' was a tasteless pedant, and nothing better could be expected from him.' 

Knight, too, was no less angered, and after quoting the remark of Steevens, 
which I have just given, bursts forth : 'All this is very unscrupulous, ignorant, and 
*■ tasteless. Lodge's Rosalynd is not a worthless original ; Shakspere's imitations of 

* it are not insignificant. Lodge's Novel is, in many respects, however quaint and 
'pedantic, informed with a bright poetical spirit, and possesses a pastoral charm 
'which may occasionally be compared with the best parts of Sidney's Arcadia^ 

When Collier reprinted Rosalynde in his Shakespeare Library^ he again replies 

to Steevens : ' Comparing Rosalynde with As You Like It^ the former may indeed be 
do 



3o6 APPENDIX 

' tenned " worthless,'* inasmacb as Shakespeare's play is so immeasiirabty svperior to 
' it; . . . but placing Lodge's Novel by the side of other productions of the same class, 
' we cannot hesitate to declare it a very amusing and varied composition, full of agree- 
' able and graceful invention (for we are aware of no foreign authority for any of the 
'incidents) [Does "foreign authority" exclude the Tale of Gamelynf — Ed.], and 

* with much natural force and simplicity in the style of the narrative. That it is here 

* and there disfigured by the faults of the time, by forced conceits, by lowness of allu- 
' sion and expression, and sometimes by inconsistency and want of decorxmi in the 

< characters, cannot be denied. There are errors which the judgement and genius of 

* Shakeq>eare taught him to avoid ; but the admitted extent and nature of his general 
' obligations to Lodge afford a high tribute to the excellence of that " original," which 

< Steevens pronounced " worthless." It may be almost doubted whether he had even 

< taken the trouble to read carefully that performance upon which he delivered so 
'dogmatical and definitive a condemnation.' 

Grant White rates Lodge's Novel differently. 'Although,* he says (ed. i), 
' there is this identity in the plots of the tale and the comedy, Shakespeare's creative 
' power appears none the less remarkably in the latter. The personages in the two 
' works have nothing in common but their names and the functions which they per* 
' form. In the tale they are without character, and exist but to go through certain 
' motions and utter certain formally constructed Complaints and Passions. The ladies 
' quote Latin in a style and with a copiousness which would delight a Women's Rights 
' Convention, and quench, in any man of flesh and blood the ardor of that love which 
is the right most prized of woman. Rosalind, for instance, musing upon her dawn- 
ing passion for Rosader and his poverty, says : " Doth not Horace tell thee what 
' " methode is to be used in love ? Querenda pectinia primum^ post nummos virtus** 
' There was a model for the traits and language of Shakespeare's Rosalind !' 

Nor did age mellow White's judgement In his second edition he reiterates: 
' The comedy is, in fact, a mere dramatization of the tale — an adaptation it would 

* now be called — the personages, the incidents, most of the names, and even some of 
' the language, being found in Lodge's Novel. The chief difference between the two 
' — more remarkable, even, than that one is a tale and the other a drama — is that the 
' ambitious tale is one of the dullest and dreariest of all the obscure literary perform- 
' ances that have come down to us from past ages, and the comedy, written as joumey- 
' work by a playwright to please a miscellaneous audience, is the one bright, immortal 
' woodland poem of the wcM-ld.' 

Dyce (ed. iii) : ' If Steevens somewhat undervalues [Lodge's RosafymU]^ Mr 
'Collier greatly overrates it* 

W. C. Hazlitt, on the other hand, in his reprint of Collier's S^iespeare Likrary^ 
says : ' It appears to me that Mr Collier states the matter fairly enough.' 

' Never,' says Campbell, ' was the prolixity and pedantry of a prosaic narrative 
' transmuted by genius into such magical poetry. In the days of James I, George 
' Heriot, the Edinburgh merchant, who built a hospital still bearing his name, is said 
' to have made his fortune by purchasing for a trifle a quantity of sand that had been 
'brought as ballast by a ship from Africa. As it was dry, he suspected from its 
'weight that it contained gold, and he succeeded in filtering a treasure from it. 
' Shakespeare, like Heriot, took the dry and heavy sand of Lodge and made gold 
'out of it* 

As we have seen, Steevens, by his supercilious reference to Lodge, stirred Knight's 
anger, and Dr Farmer was equally unfortunate when he said that ' the old bard was 



SOURCE OF THE PLOT yyj 

* no hunter of MSS.* * Thua,* exclaims Knight, * " the old bard," meaning Shake- 
< speare, did not take the trouble of doing, or wa^ incapable of doing, what another 

* old bard (first a player and afterwards a naval sui^eon) did with great care — consult 

* the manuscript copy ' of the Tale of Gamelyn. Thereupon, Knight undertakes to 
show that both Shakespeare and Lodge made use of the Tale of Gamelyn. That 
Lodge was indebted to Gamelyn will be, I think, conceded by all, but Shakespeare*s 
indebtedness to that source is founded by Knight on three incidents wherein Lodge 
and Shakespeare do not agree, and wherein Shakespeare took the hint, so Knight 
thinks, from Gamelyn : First, Lodge represents Rosader (pronounced, by the way, 
with the accent on the first syllable : R6sader) as having had bequeathed to him the 
largest share of his father's estate. That to Orlando should have been devised the 
smallest. Knight maintains is due to the hint which Shakespeare took from the delib- 
erations of the old Knight's friends in Gamelyn. To this difference in treatment 
Knight thinks is due the entirely different conception of the two characters, Rosader 
and Orlando. Secondly, in Gamelyn^ the old man, whose sons are fatally injured by 
the Wrestler, * bigan bitterly his hondes for to wrynge.* In Lodge's Novel the father 

* never changed his countenance.' Wherefore, when Shakespeare represents the old 
father as making * pitiful dole ' over his boys. Knight detects therein the direct traces 
of Gamelyn. Thirdly, in Lodge, when the Champion approaches Rosader, he sim- 
ply gives him * a shake by the shoulder ' ; m As You Like It he mocks Orlando with 
taunting speeches ; and so in Gamelyn he starts towards the youth, *■ and sayde " who 
* " is thy fader, and who is thy sire ? For sothe thou art a gret fool, that thou come 
•«»hire."' 

The force of these proofs is, I think, weakened by the following considerations : 
Had the largest share of the father's estate been bequeathed, contrary to English 
custom, to the youngest son, Orlando, Oliver's jealousy and envy would not have 
been motiveless ; it would have been scarcely unnatural. Secondly, the bitter lamen- 
tations of a father over the violent deaths of his sons, or, thirdly, the mocking jeers 
of a braggart, are none of them of so unusual or of so extraordinary a character that 
Shakespeare need have himted round for authority or suggestion. 

In The New Shakspere Socieiys Transactions (Part ii, p. 277, 1882) W. G. Stone 
compares As You Like It and Rosalynde. In . addition to Knight's three points of 
resemblance between Gameljm and Orlando, Stone, in this good essay, detects < five 
' other parallelisms, more or less clear,' as follows : 'After his father's death, Johan, 

* Gamelyn's eldest brother, " clothed him [Gamelyn] znAfed him yvel znd. eek wrothe " 

* [see 1. 73, post\ Orlando complains to Adam that Oliver's " horses .... are faire 
* " with their feedingy .... hee lets mee feede with his Hindes." Lodge only says, 
' generally, that Saladym made « Rosader his foote boy for the space of two or three 

* ** yeares, keeping him in such servile subjection, as if he had been the sonne of any 
* " country vassal." When Oliver called Orlando a ** villaine," the latter replied : " I 
< " am no villaine : I am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, 
* " and he is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines." Gamelyn 

* answered the epithet "gadelyng," thus: << I am no worse gadel3mg ne no worse 

* ** wight. But bom of a lady and geten of a knight " (11. 107, 108). As Gamelyn 

* rode away to the wrestling-match, Johan [hoped] '* He mighte ireke his nekke in 
*"that wrastl)mg" (1. 194). In commending Orlando to Charles's "discretion," 

* Oliver said : " I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his 6nger.'* The wrestler 

* thus taunted Gamelyn : " Come thou ones in myn bond, schalt thou never the " (1. 

* 254). Duke Frederick said : " You shall trie but one fall." Charles answered : 



/ 



♦• 



3o8 APPENDIX 

* " No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a second." Lastly, the 

* forest of Arden and that to which Gamelyn and Adam betook themselves are 

* described by the same adjective. Adam remarked : " That lever me were keyes for 
*"to here, Then walken in this wilde woode my clothes for to tere." [See/<?j/.] 

* Compare "And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he [Duke Frederick] came." ' 

I cannot say that I think these five additional instances carry much weight. The 
phrases common to the Tale and the Drama are in no respect either unusual or strik- 
ing. It is only fair to add that the author of the paper by no means insists on their 
parallelism, and that they are given only incidentally to the main purpose of his Essay, 
which, as I have stated, is a comparison between Shakespeare and Lodge. 

W. W. Lloyd, whose Critical Essays form by far the most valuable portion of 
Singer's second edition, shares to some extent Knight's belief that Shakespeare ha] 
at least read Gamelyn. On p. 1 14 he says : * There can be no doubt that [Lodge 

* Novel'\ was carefully gone through by the poet, and it is not improbable that he had 

* also in his hands the Tale of Gamelyn. Still, in this case, as in others, we must not 

* rashly conclude that we possess all the sources. We have only negative proof that 

< Shakespeare was the first to dramatise Rosalynde^ and in those days of originality 
' we shall make a great mistake if in eagerness to elevate Shakespeare we disable the 

* inventive resources of his predecessors and contemporaries. Hence we tread but on 

* uncertain ground when in comparing novel and play we too broadly assume that the 
' improvements in the latter are necessarily more than adoptions from another source, 

* an intermediate mind. Still, duly guarded, the value of comparison remains ; the 

* glory of Shakespeare rests in any case not on the taste or judgement of particular 

< alterations, but on the completeness with which, among multitudes of alternatives, he 

* has gone right where he might so easily have been tempted wrong ; and in the com- 

* parison of the finished work with the remoter rudiment, however many links of inter- 

* mediate developement are lost, the attention is invariably guided to the spirit in which 

* irregularities were corrected, relief supplied, and crudity or coarseness refined or 

* suppressed.' 

There is no evidence in As You Like It which is to me at all conclusive that 
Shakespeare drew any the smallest inspiration from The Tale of Gamelyn. The 
atmospheres of the two works are heavenwide apart, and as for mere verbal repetitions, 
it is not impossible that a number of phrases might be found common to As You 
Like It and the Book of Job. As between Lodge and Shakespeare, however, the 
case is different ; there can be no doubt that the Novel is interwoven in the drama, 
but whether by Shakespeare's hand, or, as Lloyd suggests, by another's, who can tell ? ly 
Whether Shakespeare went directly to the Novel itself, or gilded with his heavenly 
alchemy some pale, colorless drama which had been tried and failed, but whose 
dramatic capabilities Shakespeare's keen eye detected, I find it impossible to decide. 
The trivial blemishes in As You Like It which have been ascribed with probability, 
by Wright and others, to haste on Shakespeare's part, may be attributed, it seems to 
me, quite as plausibly to the outcroppings of the original play, which Shakespeare 
remodelled, and their presence would still be due, more or less, to haste. Among these, 
there is one, however, for which, I think, haste is hardly a sufficient explanation, and 
this is, the character of Touchstone. If there is one quality in which Shakespeare is 
forever Shakespeare, it is in the unity of his characters, in their thorough individuality, 
in their absolute truth to themselves. A hundred and fifty years ago Pope said that 
to prefix names to the speeches in Shakespeare's plays was almost superfluous; the 



SOURCE OF THE PLOT 309 

speeches themselves unerringly proclaimed the speakers. We also know that either 
before the entrance of an important character, or very soon aAer, Shakespeare is wont 
to give either a prelude or a keynote, as it were, of that character, and with this key- 
note we all know how absolutely every subsequent trait xyt utterance is in harmony. 
If, then, this test be applied to Touchstone (or, why not say, this touchstone to 
Touchstone), will his character from first to last stand it ? Is the * clownish fool ' 
and the ' roynish clown ' of the First Act, with his bald jests of knights and pancakes, 
the Touchstone of the Fifth Act, who had trod a measure, flattered a lady, been 
politic with his friend and smooth with his enemy ? Is the simpleton of the First 
Act, * Nature's natural ' as he is in truth, the same with the Touchstone who can cite 
Ovid and quarrel in print, by the book ? Are there not here two separate characters ? 
^jhese two clowns cannot be one and the same. The true Touchstone we meet for the 
^frst time in the Forest of Arden, and although when Jaques speaks of him we have 
already seen him and heard him, yet it is Jaques who gives us the keynote of his cha- 
racter ; and in the Touchstone of the last Act we recognise our old acquaintance, who 
solemnly pondered that * from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, and then from hour to 

* hour we rot and rot, and thereby hangs a tale.* 
However rapid may have been Shakespeare's composition, I cannot suppose — ^it is 

to me unthinkable — that from the very first instant each character was not present 
before him in perfect symmetry and absolute completeness. For any discrepancy, 
therefore, any distortion in the character of Touchstone, haste in composition is 
hardly, I think, an adequate explanation, and I humbly suggest one of two courses 
as a possible solution : First, either we have, in the Clown of the Second Scene of the 
play, the genuine roynish fool of the original old play which Shakespeare rewrote, 
and who here crops out, perhaps through an oversight (here, at least, due to haste), or 
perhaps purposely retained to please the groundlings; or else, secondly, that the 
Clown who cracks his joke about beards and mustard was not Touchstone, but a 
separate and very different character, and who should never have been called Touch- 
stone. Theobald, be it observed, was the first (and this, too, not till his second edi- 
tion) to call this Clown Touchstone. He is our sole authority for it. This Qown 
Rosalind threatens with the whip— would she ever have thus menaced Touchstone ? 

Although this latter suggestion will relieve Touchstone's character from inconsist- 
ency, — an inconsistency which all must have felt, and to which Wright expressly calls 
attention, — ^yet the other trifling blemishes remain, such as styling Rosalind at one tune 
the * shorter,' and at another time the * taller,' or speaking of * Juno's swans,* &c. 
For these, I think, we must fall back on the explanation that they are the survivals of 
the older play. Theobald's error in nomenclature (that is, in calling the Clown of 
the Second Scene Touchstone) may account for the most serious of all ; but for the 
others, I think, we can account by supposing that there was an older drama, which 
was intermediate between our As You Like It and Lodge's Navel, 

Moreover, the weakness which we all feel here and there in the last scene, in pas- 
sages which, as Wright fltly says, < are not, to say the least, in Shakespeare's best 

* manner,' — ^all these imperfections will be readily accounted for if we suppose them 
to be remnants of the old play, which Shakespeare was either too hurried, or too 
indiflerent, to erase. The chiefest objection to this lies in the uncritical method which 
is herein implied, whereby we attribute, as a rule, whatever is good to Shakespeare, 
and whatever is less good to some one else. Still, I think, the rule may be, for the 
nonce, applied with due propriety to the close of this play. 
A Furthermore, is there not a mystery hanging over the staying of As You Like It 



310 APPENDIX 

by the Wardens of the Stationers* Company ? It is not utterly beyond the pale of 
possibility that a clue to the mystery might be found in a clashing of pecuniary 
interests between the owners of the old play and of the new, and which was never 
set at rest until the ownership of both passed into the same hands before the First 
Folio was entered on the Stationers' Registers and permitted to be printed. 

The student will find elaborate comparisons between Lodge*s Novel and this play 
in the Shakespeare Jahrbuch^ vol. vi, pp. 226-249, by Delius ; also an extremely 
valuable analysis of the Tale of Gamelyn, in the Shakespeare Jahrbtuh^ vol. xxi, pp. 
69-148, by ZUPITZA ; and again in the New Shakspere Society's Transactions^ Part ii, 
pp. 277-293, 1882, by W. G. Stone, wherein the writer * examines Shakspere's treat- 
* ment of Lodge's Rosalynde from a negative point of view ; and instead of showing 
' his agreement therewith, dwells upon his divergence therefrom in varying the plot 
' and in modifying the characters.' All these valuable Essays are designed for the 
benefit of those who have no access to the originals, and it is needful here merely to 
give their titles. In reprinting on the following pages both The Tale of Gamelyn and 
Lodge's Rosalynde^ the original material is supplied from which the student, with best 
profit to himself, can make his own deductions and comparisons. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 

The Tale of Gamelyn is here reprinted from Skeat's admirable edition {^Clarendon 
Press Series y Oxford, 1884). The following few facts, all that are germane to this 
play, are wholly derived from that editor's excellent Introduction^ and as much as 
possible in his very words: We may roughly date the Tale of Gamelyn near the 
middle of the fourteenth century. It so happens that all the copies of it which have 
been preserved occur in MSS of the Canterbury Tales; in three of the best MSS, 
however, it does not appear ; but when it does appear it is always in the same place, 
i. e. in the gap left in Chaucer's work by his omission to finish the composition (or, 
more probably, the revision) of the Cook^s Tale. There is, in fact, no connection 
between Gamelyn and any work of Chaucer, and no reason for connecting it with 
the Cook's TcUe in particular, beyond the mere accident that the gap here found in 
Chaucer's work gave an opportunity for introducing it. < I cannot but protest,' says 
Skeat, < against the stupidity of the botcher whose hand wrote above it « The Cokes 
'Tale of Gamelyn." That was done because it happened to be found next after 
< the Cook's Tale, which, instead of being about Gamelyn, is about Perkin the reveller, 
' an idle apprentice.' 

It so happens that none of the black-letter editions of Chaucer contain the Tale^ 
which was, in fact, never printed till 1721, but MSS of Chaucer circulated among 
readers, and in this way Thomas Lodge became acquainted with it He certainly 
made use of a MS, which gave the name of the old Knight as Sir John of Burdeux; 
a Cambridge MS is the only one known to Skeat which has the spelling burdeuxs. 
Whence Lodge obtained the latter part of his RoscUynde does not iq)pear, but it is 
not improbable that he had it horn, some ItaHan novel. Gamelyn is remarkable as 
being a story without a heroine ; no female name is even mentioned in it, and it is 
only in the fifth line from the end that we are told that the hero < wedded a wife both 
good and fair.' Hence it is not surprising that Lodge thought it necessary to expand 
the story, and to provide a Rosalind for his Rosader. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 311 

The footnotes are wholly taken from Skeat*s Notes and Glossary, In reprinting, 
the only liberty I have taken is to change the character 5 into y at the beginning, and 
into gh in the middle, of a word. 

LITHETH, and lesteneth • and herkeneth aright, I 

And>« schulle here a talkyng * of a doughty knight; 
Sire lohan of Boundys * was his righte name, 3 

He cowde of norture ynough ' and mochil of game. 4 

Thre sones the knight hadde * that with his body he wan ; 
The eldest was a moche schrewe ' and sone he bygan. 6 

His bretheren loued wel here fader * and of him were agast, 7 

The eldest deserued his fadres curs * and had it at the last 
The goode knight his fader * Ijruede so >ore, 9 

That deth was comen him to * and handled him iiil sore. 

But his chief anxiety was for his children's future. He, therefore, sent for some 
wise knights to come and help him dispose of his property ; and charged them to 
divide his land evenly, and not to forget Gamelyn, his young son. The knights hav- 
ing learned his wishes, 

Tho lete they the knight lyen * that was nought in hele, 41 

And wenten in-to counseil * his landes for to dele ; 42 

For to delen hem alle * to oon, that was her thought 43 

And for Gamelyn was ^ngest * he schulde haue nought 
Al the lond that ther was * they dalten it in two, 45 

And leten Gamelyn the ^nge * withoute londe go, 
And ech of hem seyde * to other full lowde, 
His bretheren might ^ve him lond * whan he good cowde. 4B 

When they reported this division to the knight, he liked it right nought, and told 
them to keep still, and he would deal out his land at his own will, as follows : 

Johan, myn eldeste sone * schal haue plowes f3rue 57 

That was my fadres heritage * whil he was on lyue 58 

And my myddeleste sone * fyue plowes of lond ; 

That I halp for to gete * with my righte bond ; 

And al myn other purchas * of londes and of leedes, 61 

That I byquethe to Gameljrn * and alle my goode steedes. 

I. LitJutk, Hearken ye. The imperative plural. 3. Bffundyt. It ia not clear what is meant 

by ' Boundys/ nor is there any clear indication of the supposed locality of the story. ' Boundys/ a 
place-name, is perhaps » bounds, marches, border-land; or possibly Bons, near Falaise in Nor* 
mandy. 4 . ' He was sufficiently instructed in right bringing up, and knew mudi about sport.' 
6. tchrrwe, wicked man. 6. sone he bygan, vis. to make good his reputation. y. 



afraid (in a good sense). 9. yore, a long time. 41. • Then they left the knight lying there, 

who was not in health.' ^4*. dele, divide. 43. 'To apportion them all to one, that was 

their plan.* 44. And for. And because.—— ^-45. dalten, divided. 48. whan he good cowdt^ 

when he knew what was good, /. e. when he was old enough to know right from wrong ; or, as wc 
now say, when he came to years of discretion. Observe that the division of land here proposed waa 
not final; the good knight, being still alive, altered it. 57. flowet, plough-lands. 'A plough 

of land was as much as could be ploughed with one plough.' — ^Wright, e^, Skeat. 38. om lyuo, 

in life ; alive. 61. furckat, i. e. purchases. Still applied, in law, to all pr op er ty obtained 

otherwise than by descent. 



u 



312 APPENDIX 

Having thus disposed of his land, he lay stone still and died when his time came. 
When he was buried under the grass, 

Sone the elder brother • gyled the >^nge knaue ; 10 

He took into his hond ' his lond and his leede, 71 

And Gamelyn himselfe * to clothen and to feede. 

He clothed him and fedde him * yuel and eek wrothe, 73 

And leet his londes for-fare * and his houses bothe, 74 

His parkes and his woodes * and dedc nothing wel ; 

And seththen he it aboughte * on his faire fel. 7^ 

Now Gamelyn waxed strong, so that neither man nor boy dared vex him. 

Gamelyn stood on a day • in his brotheres ^rde, 81 
And bygan with his hond * to handlen his berde ; 

He thoughte on his londes * that layen vnsawe, 83 

And his faire okes ' that down were i-drawe ; 84 

His parkes were i-broken * and his deer byreued. 85 

Not a single good steed did he have left. Soon after his brother came up, and 
asked Gamelyn if the meat was ready, which enraged Gamel3m, who 'swore by 
goddes book Thou shalt go bake thyself; I will not be thy cook/ His brother is 
astonished at such lang^uage, and Gamelyn rehearses his grievances, thou-xoig his 
brother instead of using the respectful youy and winds up with cursing him. Where- 
upon his quick-tempered brother replied : 

' Stond stille, gadelyng * and hold right thy pees ; 102 

Thou schalt be fayn for to haue * thy mete and thy wede ; 103 

What spekest thou, Gamelyn * of lond other of leede ?* 104 

Thanne seyde Gamelyn * the child that was ying, 105 

< Cristes curs mot he haue * that clepeth me gadelyng ! 

I am no worse gadelyng * ne no worse wight, 107 
But bom of a lady * and geten of a knight.* 

The brother dared not approach Gamel3m, but bade his men get staves to beat the 
boy, who, when he saw them, all thus armed, draw near, looked round for some means 
of defence, and his eye lit on a large pestle standing up against a wall ; this he seized, 
and looking like a wild lion he laid round him lustily, and soon had all the men l3nng 
in a heap. His brother, not relishing this turn of affairs, fled up into a loft and shut 
the door fast. Gamelyn looked everywhere for his brother, and finally espied him 
looking out at a window. Then began a parley which ended in the brother's coming 
down and making his peace, and promising that all of Gamelyn's inheritance should 
be restored, and more too if he wanted it. ' But the knight thoughte on tresown and 
Gamelyn on none. And wente and kiste his brother when they were at oon,* t. e, at 
one, t. e, reconciled. Alas, young Gamelyn, nothing he wist with what a false treason 
his brother him kissed ! 

70. gyled^ beguiled the young boy. 71. leede , people, serfs. 73. yuel and eek wrothe, 

badly, nay abominably. 74. leet his londes for-fare, let his lands go to ruin. 76. 'And 

afterwards he paid for it in his fair skin.' We should now say, his recompense fell upon his own 

head. 81. yerde, yard, courtyard. 83. vnsawe, unsown. 84. i-drawe, pulled down 

to the ground. 85. byreued, stolen. xoa. gadelyng, fellow ; a term of reproach. But 

observe that the sarcasm lies in the similarity of the sound of the word to Gamelyn. Hence Game- 

lyn's indignant reply. X03. * Thou shalt be glad to get mere food and clothing.' X04. other, 

eithei 105. ying, young. 107. wight, man. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 313 

Litheth and lesteneth * and holdeth your tonge 169 

And ye schul heere talkyng * of Gamelyn the yonge. 

Ther was ther bysiden ' cryed a wrastlyng, 171 

And therfor ther was set vp * a ram and a ring; 

And Gamelyn was in wille * to wende therto 

For to preuen his might * what he cowthe do. 1 74 

* Brother,* seyde Gamelyn • * by seynt Richer, 175 
Thou most lene me to-nyght * a litel courser 1 76 
That is freisch to the spores * on for to ryde ; 177 
I most on an erande * a litel her byside/ 1 78 

* By god !' seyde his brother • * of steedes in my stalle 

Go and chese the the best * and spare non of alle 180 

Of steedes or of coursers * that stondcn hem bisyde ; 
And tel me, goode brother • whider thou wolt ryde.* 

* Her byside, brother • is cryed a wrastlyng, 
And therfor schal be set vp * a ram and a ryng ; 

Moche worschip it were • brother, to vs alle, 185 

Might I the ram and the ryng * bring home to this halle.' 
A steede ther was sadeled * smertely and skeet; 187 

Gamelyn did a paire spores * fast on his feet. 
He sette his foot in the styrop * the steede he bystrood, 
And toward the wrastelyng • the ^nge child rood. 

Tho Gamelyn the yonge * was riden out at gat, 191 

The false knj^^t his brother * lokked it after that, 
And bysoughte lesu Crist * that is heuen kyng, 
He mighte breke his nekke * in that wrastelyng. 

As sone as Gamelyn com * ther the place was, 195 

He lighte doun of his steede * and stood on the gras. 

And ther he herd a frankeleyn * wayloway synge, 197 

And bigan bitterly * his hondes for to wrynge. 
< Goode man,' seyde Gamelyn * * why makestow this fare ? 199 

Is ther no man that may * ^u helpe out of this care ?* 

* Alias !' seyde this frankeleyn • * that euer -was I bore ! 

For tweye stalworthe sones * I wene that I haue lore ; 202 

A champioun is in the place * that hath i-wroi^^t me sorwe, 203 

For he hath slayn my two sones * but-if god hem borwe, 204 
I would ^ue ten pound * by lesu Crist ! and more. 

With the nones I fand a man * to handelen him sore.' 206 

' Goode man,* sayde Gamelyn * * wilt theu wel doon, 207 
Hold myn hors, whil my man * draweth of my schoon, 

171. bysiden t close by. 171. crygd, procUimed. 174. preuen^ test, shew.— —174. 

cowthtf could. 175. RichtTf Richard. His name still appears in our Prayer-books.—— 

176. Utu, loan. 177. sporeMt spurs.— —178. her byside, close by here.— — x8o. chese, 

choose. 185. worschip, honour. 187. smertely a$td skeet, K^yAiMcf and swiftly.— 19X, 

Tho, when. 195. ther, where. 197. wayloway, wellaway. For Ang. Sax. wd lA wA, lit. 

* woe I lo 1 woe I'— —199. makestow, makest thou.— — 199. fare, behaviour. a w a. lore, lost. 

903. sorwe, sorrow. 304. but-if, &c., unless God be surety for them, /. #. ensure their 

recovery. The two are not slain, but greatly disabled. ao6. With the nones, on the occasion 

that, provided that. For the nones, for the occasion, stands (or for then ones, for the once ; so here 

with the nones » with then ones, with the once. 907. wilt thorn, &c., if thou wishest to do a 

kind deed. 



314 APPENDIX 

And help my man to kepe ' my clothes and my steede, 209 

And I wil into place go ' to loke if I may speede.* 

< fiy god V sayde the frankeleyn * * anon it schal be doon ; 
I wil my-self be thy man * and drawen of thy schoon, 
And wende thou into place * lesu Crist the speede, 

And drede not of thy clothes * nor of thy goode steede/ 214 

Barfoot and vngert * Gamelyn in cam, 
Alle that weren in the place * heede of him they nam, 216 

How he durste auntre him * of him to doon his might 217 

That was so doughty champioun ' in wrastlyng and in fighL 
Vp sterte the champioun * rapely anoon, 219 

Toward ^nge Gamelyn * he bigan to goon, 
And sayde, * who is thy fader * and who is thy sire ? 
For sothe thou art a gret fool * that thou come hire !' 
Gamelyn answerde ' the champioun tho, 

< Thou knewe wel my fader - whil he couthe go, 224 
Whiles he was on lyue • by seint Martyn I 

Sir lohan of Boundys was his name * and I Gamelyn.' 

< Felaw,' seyde the champioun * * al-so mot I thryue, 227 
I knew wel thy fader * whil he was on lyue ; 

And thiself, Gamelyn * I wil that thou it heere, 

Whil thou were a >^ng boy * a moche schrewe thou were.' 230 

Than seyde Gamelyn * and swere by Cristes ore 231 

< Now I am older woxe * thou schalt fynde me a more !' 232 

< Be god !' sayde the champioun * *• welcome mote thou be I 

< G)me thou ones in myn bond * schalt thou neuer the/ 234 

The time was night and the moon was shining when the wrestling began. Many 
a trick did the champion try on Gamelyn, but in vain. Then said Gamelyn to the 
champion : < I have withstood many tricks of thine, now you must try one or two of 
mine.' Whereupon, of all his tricks he showed him only one, * and cast him on the 
left side, that three ribbes to brak.' And thereto one of his arms that gave a great 
crack. Then said the Franklin: 'Blessed be thou, Gamelyn, that ever thou wast 
bom,' and being no longer in awe of the champion he scoffed at him for being beaten 
by so young a man. But the champion answered that Gameljrn was the master of all, 
and that never in his life had he been so roughly handled. And Gamelyn stood 
there shirtless, and dared any one to encounter him, satirically remarking that the 
champion did not appear to want any more. Not a soul came forward. At last two 
gentlemen, the overseers of the games, told Gamelyn to put on his shoes and stock- 
ings, for the fair was over. Then said Gamelyn : * So mote I well fare, I have not yet 
sold out the half of my ware.' Whereupon the champion grimly spoke up : * He is 
a fool that thereof buyeth, thou sellest so dear.' < Fellow,' said the Franklin, < why 
dost thou blkme his ware ? what thou boughtest thou hadst too cheap.' Then the 
wardens that were of that wrestling came and brought Gamelyn the ram and the ring, 

914. dretU not o/^ fear not for. 3x6. warn, took. 2x7. * How he dared adventure him- 

telf» to prove his strength upon him that was so doughty a champion?* 8x9. ra^fy mnaon, 

quickly in a minute. 2^4. wkil ht couthe go ^ whilst he was able to go about. 337. Ftlaw, 

fellow (as a term of reproach). 887. also mot /, as I may. 330. a moche schrewe^ &c., 

thou wast a great doer of mischief. Gamdyn retorts that he is now a more, i. e. a still greater doer 
of mischief. 331. ore, grace. 33a. woxe, grown.— — 134. the, thrive. 



THE TALE OF GAMELYN 315 

and he went, with much joy, home in the morning. His brother saw him coming 
with a great rowte, and bade shut the gate, and hold him without. The porter of 
his lord was full sore agast, and started at once to the gate, and locked it fast. 

[The chief points of resemblance between As You Like It and The Tale of Game- 
lyn here cease. In what remains only the name Adam, and Adam's flight with Gam- 
elyn to a forest where they find outlaws feasting, can be at all considered common to 
both. I have been careful to retain, as far as possible, the phraseology of the original 
in the following abstract of the remaining six hundred lines of The Tale, It is of 
necessity brief, and gives merely an outline of the story, from which it can be seen 
that there are no situations, except possibly the forest-scene, wherein young Gamelyn 
could have served in the least as the direct prototype of Orlando.] 

When Gamelyn, flushed with victory, returned home with the ram and the ring 
and a disorderly crew of friends, he found the gate shut against him. Whereupon 
he kicked the gate in, caught the porter, broke his neck, and threw him down a 
well. His friends were cordially invited by him to help themselves to meat, and for 
drink five tuns of wine were hospitably placed at their disposal. His brother mean- 
while lay hid in a * litel toret * of the castle and saw them * wasting his good,' but 
< durste he not speke.' This carousal lasted for eight days, then the guests took their 
leave, and when they had * riden and i-goon« Gamelyn stood allone, friends had he 
noon.' His brother ventured then from his hiding-place, which he had i4;>parently 
changed, though we are not told why, fix)m the * toret ' to the * selleer.' The treach- 
erous knight forgave Gamelyn, and even went so far as to tell him that because * of 
my body, brother, heir geten have I noon, I will make thee mine heir, I swear by 
St Johan.' Gamelyn was, of course, very grateful, but nothing wist of his brother's 
guile. Under the plea of an oath which he had made when from his hiding-place he 
had seen Gamelyn throw the porter down the well, the brother persuaded Gamelyn 
to be bound hand and foot, merely out of formality, that his oath should not be 
broken. But as soon as he was bound and securely fettered, his brother told every- 
body that Gamelyn was mad. For two days and two nights, without meat or drink, 
was the young fellow fastened to a post. Then he appealed privately to Adam, who 
was the spencer, or officer of the household who dispensed the provisions, to succour 
him, which Adam, the spencer, did, with food and drink. It was then agreed 
between them that Adam should unlock Gamelyn*s fetters, and when the feasting and 
revelry was at its height, with all the Abbots and Priors, on Sunday, Gamelyn should 
make an appeal to all the men of holy Church for help, and if they refused he should 
break forth, and he with a good staff, and Adam with another, fight for freedom. And 
it so befell, the men of holy Church banned him instead of blessing him, whereupon 
he cast away his fetters and began to work, and with such good effect that there was 
none of them all that with his staff met but he made him overthrow, and quit them 
his debt. * Gamelyn,' said Adam, < do them but good ; they are men of holy church, 
draw of them no blood, take heed of the tonsure, and do them no harms, but break 
both their legs, and after that their arms.' This provident advice was followed until 
at last Gamelyn got at his brother ; him he struck in the neck, and also a little above 
the girdle, and bruised his backbone, and set him in the fetters. The sheriff was 
summoned by those who escaped, and when Gamelyn saw him and his posse approach 
he fled with Adam, so that when the sheriff got to the castle he found a nest, but no 
egg ; however, he found the brother fettered, and anone sent for a doctor to heal his 
backbone. 

Gamelyn and Adam meanwhile marched steadily into the wood ; but the latter 



3i6 APPENDIX 

took it ill, and at last said : * I see now that it is better to be a spencer. It is far 
* preferable keys for to bear than to walk in this wild wood my clothes for to tear.* 

< Adam/ said Gamelyn, *■ dismay thee right nought ; many a good man's child into 

< care is i-brought.' And as they were walking together they heard talking of men 
near by. Then Gamelyn under the wood looked aright, and seven score of young 
men he saw well a-dight, that is, accoutred ; all sat at meat in a circle about. * Adam,' 
said Gamelyn, *■ now have we no doubt, after ill cometh good, through grace of God 
' almight ; me thinketh of meat and drink that I have a sight.' Adam looked then 
under wood-bough, and when he saw meat he was glad enow ; for he hoped to God 
to have his share or deel, and he was sore alonged after a good meal. The master 
outlaw, after finding out who they were, bade them sit there adown for to take rest, 
and bade them eat and drink, and that of the best. In the cow-se of time Gamelyu 
rose to be king of the outlaws. Meanwhile his false brother had risen to be sheriff, 
and caused Gamelyn to be proscribed as an outlaw and summoned to appear at the 
next sessions. 'Alas,' said Gamel3m, * that ever I was so slack As not to break his 
' neck, though I did break his back.' However, Gamelyn was thrust in prison. His 
brother Ote now appeared, and became surety for Gamelyn's appearance on the next 
court day. On that day Gamelyn entered the court with a band of his merry men, 
and finding that his false brother had suborned a jury to condemn to death his brother 
Ote, as a forfeit for his absence, he seized the Judge, the sheriff (his brother), and 
the jury, and hanged them all. This act of summary justice seemed somehow to 
strike the king very favourably, for he not only made Ote a Justice, but Gamelyn a 
Chief Justice. The latter thus recovered his land and his serfs ; brother Ote made 
him his heir, and Gamelyn wedded a wife both good and fair. And they lived 
together, while that Crist wold, Until Gamelyn was buried under the mold. And so 
shall we all ; that none may flee : God bring us to the joy, that ever shall be. 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 

The Text oi Rosalynde here given is fix)m a copy issued by the Hvnterian 
Club, and placed, with alacrity, at my disposal by my kind friend, Mr Alexander 
Smith, of Glasgow. In the Fifth Annual Report^ 1878, of this excellent Club, that 
has done, and is still doing, such fine work in its especial field, this issue of Lodge's 
Novel v& thus spoken of: 'In regard to '< Rosalynde," it may be noted that the first 
edition, 1590, has never until now been reprinted. For ^e use of the unique original 
(unfortunately imperfect) in the Britwell library, the Club is indebted to the kindness 
« of Mr S. Christie-Miller. The deficiency (Sig. R, 4 leaves) has been supplied irom 
*the second edition, 1592, in the collection of Mr Henry Huth.* ^ 

Marginal references are placed opposite those passages only which have been 
specifically mentioned by critics in the preceding Commentary on the Play. 

The Novel is so long, and demands so many pages, that I have compressed its 
form, not its substance, in all possible ways, running into the text when practicable 
lines of poetry, titles of chapters, &c., &c., which in the original stand out in the 
page with generous margins. For the same reason I have not followed the original 
in printing every name in small capitals. Be it remembered, therefore, that the sub- 
stance alone is here reproduced ; the form is quite disregarded. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 317 

RosALYNDE. || EuPHUES GOLDEN LE- || gacie / found after his death || in his Cell at 
Si' II lexedra. || Beqtuathed to Philautus fonnes || nourfed vp with their || father in 
Eng- II land. || Fetcht from the Canaries. || By T. L. Gent. || London, || Imprinted 
by Thomas Orwin for T, G. || zxi^ John Busbie. || 1590. || 



To THE RIGHT HO- || nourablc and his moft eileemed || Lord the Lord of Hun/don, 
Lord II Chamberlaine of her MaiefUes || houfholdy and Gouemor of her || Towne 
of Barwicke : || T, L. G, wifheth increafe || of all honourable ver- || tues. || 

SVch Romanes (right Honourable") as delighted in martiall exploytes^ attempted 
their anions in the honour <?/' Auguftus, becaufe he was a Patron offouldiers : and 
Virgil dignified him with his poems ^ as a Moecenas offchollers', both ioyntly aduaun- 
cing his royalties as a Prince warlike and learned. Such asfacrifice to Pallas, pre- 
fent her with bayes as fhe is wife^ and with armour as fhe is valiant \ obferuing 
herein that excellent to irpeirov which dedicateth honours according to the perfeiflion 
of the perfon. When J entred (right honourable) with a deep infight into the con- 
fideration of thefe premiffes, feeing your L. to be a Patron of all martiall men^ and 
a Moecenas offuch as applie themfelues toJiudie\ wearing with Pallas both the launce 
and the bay^ and ayming with Auguftus at thefauour of ally by the honourable vertues 
of your minde : being my f elf e first a Student^ and after falling from bookes to armeSy 
euen vowed in all my thoughts dutifully to affect your L. Hauing with Capt : Clarke 
made a voyage to the Jlands of Terceras <Sr* the Canaries, to beguile the time with 
labour y J writ this booke ; roughy as hatcht in theflormes of the Ocean^ and feathered 
in the f urges of many perillous feas. But as it is the worke of a fouldier and a 
fchollery J prefumed to fhrowde it vnder your Honors patronage^ as one that is the 
fautor and fauourer of all vertuous adlions\ and whofe honourable Loues growen 
from the generall applaufe of the whole Common wealth for your higher deferts, may 
keep it frd the mallice of euery bitter tung. Other reafons more particular [right 
Honorable) chalenge in me a fpeciall affe^ion to your L. as being a fcholler with 
your two noble fonneSy Master Edmond Carew 6r» M. Robert Carew, (two fiens 
worihie of fo honorable a treey and a tree glorious in fuch honourable fntite) as alfo 
being fcholler in the Vniuerfitie vnder that learned and vertuous Knight Sir Edward 
Hobbie, when he was Batcheler in ArtSy a mil as well lettered as well bomCy and after 
the Etymologic of his name f oaring as high as the wings of knowledge can mount 
himy happie euerie way, &* the more fortunate y as bleffed in the honor of fo vertuous 
a Ladie. Thus (right honourable) the duetie that J owe to the fotmeSy chargeth me 
that all my affection be placed on the father % for where the braunches are fo precious ^ 
the tree of force must be most excellent. Commaunded and emboldened thus with the 
conftderation of thefe forepaffed reafons y to prefent my Booke to your Lordfhip'y I 
humbly intreatCy your Honour will vouch of my labourSy and fauour a fouldiers and 
a fchollers pen with your gracious acceptance ; who anfweres in affection what he 
wants in eloquence \ fo deuoted to your Honoury as his onely defire isy to end his life 
vnder the fauour offo martiall and learned a Patron. 

Resting thus in hope of your Lordfhips courtefiey in deyning the Patronage of my 
ivorkcyjceafe : wijhing you as many honourable fortunes as your Lord/hip can defire^ 
or /imagine. 

Your Honours fotddier 
humbly affe^ionate : 
Thomas Lodge. 



3ia APPENDIX 

To the Gentlemen Readers, 

GEntlemen, look not here to find anie fprigs of Pallas bay tree, nor to heare the 
humour of any amorous Lawreate, nor the pleafing vaine of anie eloquent Orator : Nolo 
altum fapere^ they be matters aboue my capacitie ; the Coblers checke (hall neuer light 
on my head, Ne futor vltra crepidam^ I will goe no further than the latchet, and 
then all is well. Heere you may perhaps find fom leaues of Venus mir- 
tle, but heawen down by a fouldier with his curtleaxe, not bought with I, iii, 124 
the allurement of a 61ed tongue. To be briefe Gentlemen, roome for a 
fouldier, & a failer, that giues you the fruits of his labors that he wrought in the 
Oceany when euerie line was wet with a furge, & euerie humorous pafsion counter- 
checkt with a ilorme. If ^ou like it, fo : and yet I will be yours in duetie, if you bee 
mine in fauour. But if Momus or anie fquint-eied affe that hath mightie eares to con- 
ceiue with AfidaSj and yet little reafon to iudge ; if hee come aboord our Barke to 
find fault with the tackling, when he knows not the (hrowdes. He downe into the 
hold, and fetch out a rudie pollax, that fawe no funne this feauen yeare, and either 
well be bad him, or heaue the cockfcombe ouer boord to feede cods. But courteous 
Gentlemen that fauour mofl, backbite none, & pardon what is ouerslipt, let fuch come 
& welcome. He into the Stewards roome, & fetch them a kan of our beft beuradge. 
Well Gentlemen, you haue Euphues Legacie. I fetcht it as farre as the Hands of 
TerceraSf and therefore read it ; cenfure with fauour, and farewell. 

Yours T.L, 

Rofalynd. 

THere dwelled adioyning to the citie of Bourdeaux a Knight of mofl honorable 
parentage, whom Fortune had graced with manie fauours, and Nature honored with 
fundrie exquifite qualities, fo beautified with the excellence of both, as it was a 
queflion whether Fortune or Nature were more prodigall in deciphering the riches of 
their bounties. Wife hee was, as holding in his head a fupreme conceipt of policie, 
reaching with Nestor into the depth of all ciuill gouemment ; and to make his wife- 
dome more gracious, he had that falem ingenij and pleafant eloquence that was fo 
highlie commended in Vlisses : his valour was no lefTe than his wit, nor the (Iroake 
of his Launce no lefTe forcible, than the fweetnelTe of his tongue was perfwafiue : for 
he was for his courage chofen the principall of all the Knights of Malta, This bardie 
Knight thus enricht with Vertue and Honour, fumamed Sir lohn of Bourdeaux^ han- 
ing pafTed the prime of his youth in fundrie battailes againfl the TurkeSj at lafl (as the 
date of time hath his courfe) grew aged : his haires were filuer hued, and the map of 
age was figured on his forehead : Honour fat in the furrowes of his face, and many 
yeres were pourtraied in his wrinckled liniaments, that all men might perceiue his 
glade was runne, and that Nature of necefTity chalenged her due. Sir lohn (that 
with the Fhenix knewe the tearme of his life was now expyred, and could with the 
Swanne difcouer his end by her fongs) hauing three fonnes by his wife Lynida, the 
verie pride of all his forepaifed yeres, thought now (feeing death by conflraint would 
compel! him to leaue them) to bedowe ypon them fuch a Legacie as might bewray 
his loue, and increafe their enfuing amitie. Calling therefore thefe yong Gentlemen 
before him in the prcfence of all his fellowe Knights of Malta, he refoWed to leaue 
them a memoriall of his fatherlie care, in fetting downe a methode of their brotherlie 
dueties. Hauing therefore death in his lookes to mooue them to pitie, and teares in his 
eyes to paint out the depth of his pafTions, taking his elded fonne by the hand, hee began 
thus. Sir lohn of Bourdeaux Legacie he gaue to his Sonnes. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 319 

Oh my Sonnes, yon fee that Fate hath fet a period of my yeares, and DeiliDies haue 
detennined the finall ende of my daies : the Palme tree waxeth away ward, for he 
Aoopeth in his height, and my plumes are full of ficke feathers touched with age. I 
mud to my graue that difchargeth all cares, and leaae you to the world that encreafeth 
many forowes : my filuer haires conteineth great experience, and in the number ol 
my yeares are pend downe the fubtilties of Fortune. Therefore as I leaue you fome 
fading pelfe to counterchecke pouertie, fo I will bequeath you infallible precepts that 
(hall leade yon vnto vertue. Firft therefore vnto thee Saladyne the elded, and there- 
fore the chiefefl piller of my houfe, wherein (hould be ingrauen as well the excellence 
of thy fathers qualities, as the eHentiall forme of his proportion, to thee I giue foure- 
teene ploughlands, with all my Mannor houfes and richefl plate. Next vnto Feman- 
dyne I bequeath twelue ploughlands. But vnto Rosader the yongeft I giue my Horfe, 
My Armour and my Launce, with fixteene ploughlands : for if the inward thoughts 
be difcouered by outward (hadowes, Rosader will exceed yon all in bountie and hon« 
our. Thus (my Sonnes) haue I parted in your portions the fubftance of my wealth, 
wherein if you bee as prodigall to fpend, as I haue been carefull to get, your friends 
will grieue to fee you more wadfull than I was bountifull, and your foes fmile that my 
fall did begin in your exceffe. Let mine honour be the glade of your a<5lions, and 
the fame of my vertues the Loadftarre to dire^ the courfe of your pilgrimage. Ayme 
your deedes by my honorable endeuours, and (hewe your felues fiens worthie of fo 
florifliing a tree : lead as the birds Halcyones which exceede in whitenefTe, I hatch 
yong ones that furpaffe in blacknelTe. Qimbe not my fonnes; afpiring pride is a 
vapour that afcendeth hie, but foone tumeth to a fmoake : they which dare at the 
Starres, dumble vppon dones ; and fuch as gaze at the Sunne (vnleflfe they bee Eagle 
eyed) fall blinde. Soare not with the Hobbie, lead you fall with the Larke ; nor 
attempt not with Phaeton, lead you drowne with Icarus. Fortune when (he wils you 
to flie, tempers your plumes with waxe, and therefore either fit dill and make no 
wing, or els beware the Sunne, and holde Dedalus axiome authenticall {medium 
tenere ttUiffimum), Low (hrubbes haue deepe rootes, and poore Cottages great 
patience. Fortune lookes euer vpward, and enuie afpireth to nedle with dignitie. 
Take heede my fonnes, the meane is fweeted melodic ; where drings high dretcht, 
either foone cracke, or quicklie growe out of tune. Let your G)untries care be your 
hearts content, and thinke that you are not borne for your felues, but to leuell yoTU* 
thoughts to be loyall to your Prince, careful for the G>mmon weale, and faithfull to 
your friends ; fo (hall France fay, thefe men are as excellent in vertues, as they be 
exquifite in features. Oh my fonnes, a friend is a precious lewell, within whofe 
bofome you may vnloade your forowes and vnfolde your fecretes, and hee either will 
releeue with counfaile, or perfwade with reafon : but take heede in the choyce, the 
outward (hew makes not the inward man, nor are the dimples in the face the Calen- 
ders of trueth. When the Liquorice leafe looketh mod drie, then it is mod wet. 
When the (hoares of Lepanthus are mod quiet, then they forepoint a dorme. The 
Baaran leafe the more faire it lookes, the more infe(flious it is, and in the fweeted 
words is od hid the mod trecherie. Therefore my fonnes, choofe a friend as the 
Hiperborei do the mettals, feuer them from the ore with fire, & let them not bide the 
damp before they be currant ; fo trie and then trud, let time be touchdone of friend- 
(hip, & then friends faithfull lay them vp for lewells. Be valiant my fonnes, for cow- 
ardife is the enemie to honour ; but not too ra(h, fop that is an extreame. Fortitude 
is the meane, and that is limitted within bonds, and prefcribed with circumdance. 
But aboue all, and with that he fetcht a deepe figfa, beware of Loue, for it is farre 



320 APPENDIX 

more perilous than pleafant, and yet I tell you it alloreth as ill as the Syrens. Oh 
my fonnes, fancie is a fickle thing, and beauties paintings are trickt vp with times 
colours, which being fet to drie in the Sunne, perilh with the fame. Venus is a wan- 
ton, & though her lawes pretend libertie, yet there is nothing but loffe and gliflering 
miferie. Cupids wings are plumed with the feathers of vanitie, and his arrowes 
where they pearce, inforce nothing but deadly defires : a womans eye as it is precious 
to behold, fo it is preiudiciall to gaze vpon ; for as it affoordeth delight, fo it fnareth 
vnto death. Tnift not their fawning fauours, for their loues are like the breath of a 
man vpon fleele, which no fooner lighteth on but it leapeth of, and their paflions are 
as momentarie as the colours of a Polipe, which changeth at the fight of euerie obie<5l. 
My breath waxeth fhort and mine eyes 'dimme, the houre is come and I mud away : 
therefore let this fuffice, women are wantons, and yet men cannot want one : and 
therefore if you loue, choofe her that hath her eyes of Adamant, that will tume only 
to one poynt ; her heart of a Diamond, that will receiue but one forme ; her tongue 
of a Sethin leafe, that neuer wagges but with a Southeafl winde : and yet my fonnes, 
if (he haue all thefe qualities, to be chad, obedient, and filent ; yet for that die is a 
woman, dialt thou finde in her fufficient vanities to counteruaile her uertues. Oh now 
my fonnes, euen now take thefe my lad words as my lated Legacie, for my thrid is 
fponne, and my foote is in the graue : keepe my precepts as memorialls of your fathers 
counfailes, and let them bee lodged in the fccrete of your hearts ; for wifedome is 
better than wealth, and a golden fentence worth a world of treafure. In my fall fee 
& marke my fonnes the foUie of man, that being dud climbeth with Biares to reach at 
the Heauens, and readie euerie minute to dye, yet hopeth for an age of pleafures. 
Oh mans life is like lightning that is but a flafh, and the longed date of his yeares 
but as a bauens blaze. Seeing then man is fo mortall, bee carefuU that thy life bee 
vertuous, that thy death may be full of admirable honours ; so dialt thou challenge 
fame to bee thy fautor, and put obliuion to exile with thine honorable a(flions. But 
my Sonnes, lead you (hould forget your fathers axiomes, take this fcroule, wherein 
reade what your father dying, wils you to execute lining. At this hee dirunke downe 
in his bed and gaue vp the ghod. 

lohn of Bourdeaux being thus dead, was greatlie lamented of his Sonnes and 
bewayled of his friends, efpeciallie of his fellowe Knights of Maltay who attended 
on his Funeralls, which were performed with great folemnitie. His Obfequies done, 
Saladyne caufed next his Epitaph the contents of the fcroule to be pourtraied out, 
which were to this effe(5L 

The contents of the fcedule which Sir lohn of Bourdeaux gaue to his Sonnes. 
MY SontuSy behold what portion J doo giue ; 
I Uaue you goodSf but they are quicklie lost; 
J leaue aduice^ to/choole you how to Hue; 
I leaue you wity but wonne with little cost : 
But keepe it well\ for counfaile flill is one^ 
When Father y friends y and worldlie goods are gone. 

In choice of thrift let honour be thy gaine, 
IVinne it by vertue and by manly might; 
In dooing good esieeme thy toyle no paine, 
Prote/l the fatherleffe and widowes right: 
Fight for thy faith y thy Countrie and thy King, 
For why f this thrift will prooue a blefsed thing. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 321 

In choice of wifcy preferre the modeft cha/l, 
Liiiies are f aire injhewj but fouU infmell\ 
Thefweetejl lookes by age arefoone defaft : 
Then choofe thy wife by wit and lining well. 
Who brings thee wealth and many faults withally 
Prefents th^e honie^ mixt with bitter gall. 

In choice of friends , beware of light belief e^ 
A painted tongue mayfhroud afubtill heart \ 
The Sjrrens teares doo threaten mickle grief e^ 
Forefee my fonne, for feare of fodaine fmart : 
Chufe in thy wants : and he that friends thee then, 
IVhen richer growne J befriend him thou agen, 

Leame of the Ant infommer to prouide\ 
Driue with the Bee the Droane from out thy hiue; 
BuUde like the Swallowe in thefommer tide\ 
Spare not too much (myfonne) but f paring thriue : 
Be poor e infollie, rich in allbutfinne: 
So by thy death thy gloritJhaU beginne. 

Saladine hauing thus fet vp the Scedule, and hangd about his Fathers hearfe many 
pafllonate Poems, that France might fuppofe him to be pafTmg forrowfuU, he clad him- 
felfe and his Brothers all in black, & in fuch fable futes difcourfed his griefe : but as 
the Hiena when Ihe moumes is then moil guilefull, fo Saladine vnder this (hew of 
griefe (hadowed a heart full of contented thoughtes : the T3rger though hee hide his 
clawes, will at lad difcouer his rapine : the Lions lookes are not the mappes of his 
meaning, nor a mans phifnomie is not the difplay of his fecrets. Fire cannot bee hid 
in the draw, nor the nature of man fo concealed, but at lad it will haue his courfe : 
nourture and art may doo much, but that Natura naturaus which by propagation is 
ingrafted in the heart, will be at lad perforce predominant according to the olde verfe. 
Naturam expellas furca licet, tamen vfque recurret. So fared it with Saladyne, for 
after a months mourning was pad, he fell to confideration of his Fathers tedament, 
how he had bequeathed more to his younger brothers than himfelfe, that Rosader was 
his Fathers darling, but now vnder his tuition, that as yet they were not come to yeres, 
& he being their gardin, might (if not defraud them of their due) yet make fuch 
hauock of their legacies and lands, as they fhould be a great deale the lighter: 

whereupon hee began thus to meditate with himfelfe. S aladynes meditation 

with himfelfe . Saladyne, how art thou difquieted in thy thoughts, & perplexed 

with a world of redleflfe paflions, hauing thy minde troubled with the tenour of thy 
Fathers tedament, and thy heart fiered with the hope of prefent preferment 9 by the 
one, thou art counfaild to content thee with thy fortunes ; by the other, perfwaded to 
afpire to higher wealth. Riches (Salad3me) is a great royalty, & there is no fweeter 
phifick th& dore. Auicen like a foole forgot in his Aphorifmes to fay, that golde was 
the mod precious redoratiue, and that treafure was the mod excellent medecine of the 
minde. Oh Saladyne, what were thy Fathers precepts breathed into the winde ? had 
thou fo foone forgotte his principles f did he not wame thee from coueting without 
honor, and climing without vertue ^ did hee not forbid thee to aime at any adtion that 
fhould not be honourable ^ and what will bee more preiudiciall to thy credit, than the 
careleffe mine of thy brothers welfare ? why fhouldd not thou bee the piller of thy 
brothers profperitie ; and wilt thou become the fubuerfion of their fortunes f is there 
21 



322 APPENDIX 

any Tweeter thing than concord, or a more precious lewel then amity ? are you not 
fons of one Father, fiens of one tree, birds of one nefl ^ and wilt thou become fo 
vnnaturall as to rob them, whome thou Ihouldil relieue ^ No Saladync, intreate them 
with fauours, and intertaine them with loue ; fo (halt thou haue thy conscience cleare 
and thy renowne excellent. Tufli, what words are thefe bafe foole ; farre vnfit (if 
thou be wife) for thy humour. What though thy Father at his death talked of many 
friuolous matters, as one that doated for age, and raued in his ficknelTe : (hal his words 
be axioms, and his talke be fo authenticall, that thou wilt (to obferue them) preiudice 
thy felfe ^ No no Saladyne, fick mens wills that are parole, and haue neither hand 
nor feale, are like the lawes of a Citie written in dufl ; which are broken with the 
blafl of euerie winde. What man thy Father is dead, and hee can neither helpe thy 
fortunes, nor meafure thy a(fHons : therefore burie his words with his carkaiTe, and 
bee wife for thy felfe. What, tis not fo olde as true ; Non fapity qui fibi non fapit. 
Thy Brother is young, keepe him now in awe, make him not check mate with thy 
felfe : for Nimia familiarit as contemptum parit. Let him knowe little, fo (hall he 
not be able to execute much ; fuppre(re his wittes with a bafe edate, and though hee 
be a Gentleman by nature yet forme him a new, and make him a peafant by nourture : 
fo (halt thou keepe him as a (laue, and raign thy felfe fole Lord ouer al thy Fathers 
po(re(Iions. As for Femandyne thy middle brother he is a fcholer, and hath no minde 
but on Aristotle, let him reade on Galen while thou rifled with gold, and pore on his 
booke til thou dood purchafe lands : wit is great wealth, if hee haue learning it is 
enough; and fo let all red. 

In this humour was Saladyne making his brother Rosader his foote boy, for the 
fpace of two or three yeares, keeping him in fuch feruile fubie<5Uon, as if hee had 
been the fonne of any countrie vafTall. The yong Gentleman bare al with patience, 
til on a day walking in the garde by himfelf, he began to confider how he was the fon 
of lohn of BourdeauXf a knight renowmed for many vi(5lories, & a Gentlemft famozed 
for his vertues, how contrarie to the tedament of his father, he was not only kept from 
his land, and intreated as a feruant, but fmothered in fuch fccret (lauerie, as he might 
not attaine to any honourable a(5tions. Ah quoth he to himfelfe (nature working thefe 
effe6hiall pa(rions) why (hould I that am a Gentleman borne, paffe my time in fuch 
ynnaturall drudgerie / were it not better either in Paris to become a fcholler, or in 
the court a courtier, or in the 6eld a fouldier, than to liue a foote boy to my own 
brother : nature hath lent me wit to cOceiue, but my brother denied me arte to con- 
template: I haue drength to perfonne any honorable exployte, but no libertie to 
accompli(h my vertuous indeuours : thofe good partes that God hath bedowed vpon 
me, the enuie of my brother dooth fmother in obfcuritie : the harder is my fortune, 
and the more his frowardnelTe. With that cading vp his hand he felt hidre on his 
face, and perceiuing his beard to bud, for choler hee began to blu(h, and fwore to him- 
felfe he would bee no more fubiedl to fuch (lauerie. As thus he was ruminating of 
his melancholic pa(rions, in came Salad3me with his men, and feeing his 
brother in a browne dudie, and to forget his wonted reuerence, thought to I, i, 5a 
(hake him out of his dumps thus. Sirha (quoth hee) what is your heart 
on your halfe penie, or are you faying a Dirge for your fathers soule ? what is my 
dinner readie ^ At this quedion Rosader turning his head afcance, and bending his 
browes as if anger there had ploughed the furrowes of her wrath, with his eyes full 
of fire, he made this replie. Doed thou af ke me (Saladyne) for thy Gates ^ afke 
fome of thy Ghurles who are fit for fuch an office : I am thine equall by nature, thougji 
not by birth ; and though thou had more Gardes in the bunch, I haue as many trumpt 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 323 

in my hands as thy felfe. Let me quedion with thee, why thon haft feld my Woods, 
fpoyled my Manner houfes, and made hauock of fuch vtenfals as my father be- 
queathed vnto me 9 I tell thee Saladyne, either anfwere me as a brother, or I will 
trouble thee as an enemie. 

At this replie of Rosaders, Salad3me fmiled as laughing at his prefumption, & 
frowned as checking his foUie : hee therefore tooke him vp thus (hortlie. What Hrha, 
well I fee earlie prickes the tree that will prooue a thome : hath my familiar conuerfmg 
with you made you coy, or my good lookes drawne jrou to be thus contemptuous S 
I can quickly remedie fuch a fault, and I will bende the tree while it is 
a wand : In faith (fir boy) I haue a (baffle for fuch a headftrOg colt. You If i» 53 
firs lay holde on him and binde him, and then I will giue him a cooling 
carde for his choUer. This made Rosader halfe mad, that ilepping to a great rake ' 
that flood in the garden, he laide fuch loade vpon his brothers men that he hurt fome 
of them, and made the reft of them run away. Saladyne feeing Rosader fo refolute, 
and with his refolution fo valiant, thought his heeles his beft fafede, and tooke him 
to a loaft adioyning to the garden, whether Rosader purfued him hotlie. Saladyno 
afraide of his brothers furie, cried out to him thus. Rosader bee not ib rafli, I am 
thy brother and thine elder, and if I haue done thee wrong He make thee amends : 
reuenge not anger in bloud, for fo (halt thou ftaine the vertue of olde Sir lohn of 
Bourdeaux : fay wherein thou art difcontent and thou (halt be fatiftied. Brothers 
frownes ought not to be periods of wrath : what man looke not fo fowerlie, I knowe 
we (hall be friends, and Detter friends than we have been. For, Aman/ium ira 
antoris redini egratio eft. 

Thefe wordes appeafed the choUer of Rosader, (for hee was of a milde and cour- 
teous nature) fo that he laide downe his weapons, and vpon the faith of a Gentleman 
a(rured his brother he would offer him no preiudice: wherevpon Saladyne came 
downe, and after a little parley they imbraced each other and became frends, and 
Saladyne promifmg Rosader the reftitution of al his lands, and what fauour eb 
(quoth he) any waies my abilitie or the natiu-e of a brother may performe. Vpon 
thefe fugred recOciliations they went into the houfe arme in arme together, to the 
great content of all the old feruants of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux. Thus continued the 
pad hidden in the ftrawe, till it chaunced that Torismond King of France had 
appo3mted for his pleafure a day of Wraftling and of Tournament to bufie his G)m- 
mons heads, leaft being idle their thoughts (hould runne vpon more ferious matters, 
and call to remembrance their old banifhed King ; a Champion there was to (land 
againft all commers a Norman, a man of tall ftature and of great ftrength ; fo valiant, 
that in many fuch confti(5ls he alwaies bare away the vi<5lorie, not onely ouerthrowing 
them which he incountred, but often with the weight of his bodie killing them out- 
right. Saladyne hearing of this, thinking now not to let the ball fall to the ground, 
but to take oportunitie by the forehead : firft by fecret meanes conuented with the 
Norman, and procured him with rich rewards to fweare, that if Rosader came within 
his clawes he (hould neuer more retume to quarrell with Saladyne for his pofleffions. 
The Norman defirous of pelfe, as ( Quis nifi mentis mo^s oblahtm refpuU aurwn^ 
taking great gifU for little Gods, tooke the crownes of Saladjme to performe the 
ftratagem. Hauing thus the Champion tied to his vilanous determination by oath, 
he profecuted the intent of his purpofe thus. Hee went to young Rosader, (who in 
all his thoughts reacht at honour, and gazed no lower than vertue commaunded him) 
and began to tell him of this Tournament and Wraftling, how the King fhould be 
there, and all the chiefe Peeres of France^ with all the beaatifiill damofels of the 



324 APPENDIX 

Countrey: now brother (quoth he) for the honor of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux our 
rcnowmed father, to famous that houfe that neuer hath been found without men 
approoued in Cheuahie, fhewe thy refolution to be peremptorie. For my felfe thou 
knowefl though I am eldefl by birth, yet neuer hauing attempted any deedes 
of Armes, I am yongeft to performe any Martiall exploytes, knowing better I, i, 54 
how to furuey my lands, than to charge my Launce : my brother Femandyne 
he is at Paris poring on a fewe papers, hauing more infight into Sophiilrie and prin- 
ciples of Philofophie, than any warlike indeuours : but thou Rosader the youngefl in 
yeares, but the eldefl in valour, art a man of ilrength and dared doo what honour 
allowes thee ; take thou my fathers Launce, his Sword, and his Horfe, and hie thee 
to the Tournament, and either there valiantlie crack a fpeare, or trie with the Nor- 
man for the palme of actiuitie. The words of Saladyne were but fpurres to a free 
horfe ; for hee had fcarce vttered them, ere Rosader tooke him in his armes, taking 
his proffer fo kindly, that he promifed in what he might to requite his courtefie. The 
next morowe was the day of the Tournament, and Rosader was fo defirous to (hew 
his heroycall thoughts, that he pail the night with little fleepe : but affoone as Phoebus 
had vailed the Curteine of the night, and made Aurora blufh with giuing her the 
benoles labres in her filuer G)uch, he gat him vp ; and taking his leaue of his brother, 
mounted himfelfe towards the place appoynted, thinking euery mile ten leagues till 
he came there. But leaning him fo defirous of the ioumey : to Torismond Jthe King 
of FrancCy who hauing by force baniflied Gerismond their lawfull King that lined as 
an outlaw in the Forrefl of Arden^ fought now by all meanes to keepe the French 
bufied with all fportes that might breed their content. Amongil the red he had 
appointed this folemne Tournament, whereunto he in mod folemne manner reforted, 
accompanied with the twelue Peeres of France^ who rather for feare than loue graced 
him with the (hewe of their dutifuU fauours : to feede their eyes, and to make the 
beholders pleafed with the fight of mod rare and glidring obie(5ls, he had appoynted 
his owne daughter Alinda to be there, & the faire Rosalynd daughter vnto Gerismond, 
with all the beautifull damofels that were famous for their features in all France. 
Thus in that place did Loue and Warre triumph in a fimpathie : for fuch as were 
Martiall, might vfe their Launce to bee renowmed for the excellence of their 
Cheualrie; and fuch as were amorous, might glut themfelues with gazing on the 
beauties of mod heauenly creatures. As euerie mans eye had his feuerall furuey, 
and fancie was partiall in their lookes, yet all in generall applauded the admirable 
riches that Nature bedowed on the face of Rosalynd : for vppon her cheekes there 
feemed a battaile betweene the Graces, who ftiould bedow mod fauours to make her 
excellent. The blufh that gloried Luna when (he kid the (hepheard on the hills of 
Latmos was not tainted with fuch a pleafant dye, as the Vermilion flouri(ht on the 
filuer hue of Rosal3mds countenance ; her eyes were like thofe lampes that make the 
wealthie couert of the Heauens more gorgeous, fparkling fauour and difdaine ; cour- 
teous and yet coye, as if in them Venus had placed all her amorets, and Diana all 
her chaditie. The tramells of her hayre, foulded in a call of golde, fo farre furpaft 
the bumi(ht glider of the mettall, as the Sunne dooth the meaned Starre in bright- 
neffe : the treffes that foldes in the browes of Apollo were not halfe fo rich to the 
fight ; for in her haires it feemed loue had laide her felfe in ambu(h, to intrappe the 
prouded eye that durd gafe vppon their excellence : what (hould I neede to decipher 
her particular beauties, when by the cenfure of all (he was the paragon of all earthly 
perfedlion. This Rosalynd fat I fay with Alinda as a beholder of thefe fportes, and 
made the Caualiers crack their lances with more courage : many deeds of Knight- 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 325 

hoode that day were perfonned, and many prizes were giuen according to their 
feuerall deferts : at laft when the tournament ceafed, the wraflling began ; and the 
Norman prefented himfelfe as a chalenger againfl all commers ; but he looked like 
Hercules when he aduaund himfelfe againd AcheloUs ; fo that the furie of his coun- 
tenance amafed all that durfl attempt to incounter with him in any dcede of actiuitie : 
till at lafl a luflie Francklin of the Countne came with two tall men that were his 
Sonnes of good lyniaments and comely perfonage : the elded of thefe dooing his 
obeyfance to the King entered the 1yd, and prefented himfelfe to the Norman, who 
draight coapt with him, and as a man that would triumph in the glorie of his drength, 
roufed himfelfe with fuch furie, that not onely hee gaue him the fall, but killed liim 
with the weight of his corpulent perfonage : which the younger brother feeing, lept 
prefently into the place, and thirdie after the reuenge, affayled the Norman with fuch 
valour, that at the fird incounter hee brought him to his knees : which repuld fo the 
Norman, that recouering himfelfe, feare of difgrace doubling his drength, hee dept 
fo dcamely to the young Francklin, that taking him vp in his armes he threw him 
againd the ground fo violently, that he broake his neck, and fo ended his dayes with 
his brother. At this vnlookt for maffacre, the people murmured, and were all in a 
deepe paffion of pittie; but the Francklin, Father vnto thefe, neuer changed his 
countenance; but as a mft of a couragious refolution, tooke yp the bodies of his 
Sonnes without any (hew of outward difcontent. All this while doode Kosader and 
fawe this tragedie: who noting the vndoubted vertue of the Francklins minde, 
alighted of from his horfe, and prefentlie fat downe on the graflfe, and commaunded 
his boy to pull off his bootes, making him readie to trie the drength of this Cham- 
pion; being dimifhed as he would, hee clapt the Francklin on the (boulder and 
faide thus. Bolde yeoman whofe fonnes haue ended the tearme of their yeares with 
honour, for that I fee thou fcomed fortune with patience, and twharted the iniurie 
of fate with content, in brooking the death of thy Sonnes : dand a while and either 
fee mee make a third in their tragedie, or elfe reuenge their fall with an honourable 
triumph ; the Francklin feeing fo goodlie a Gentleman to giue him fuch courteous 
comfort, gaue him hartie thankes, with promife to pray for his happis fucceffe. With 
that Rosader vailed bonnet to the King, and lightlie lept within the lids, where 
noting more the companie than the combatant, hee cad his eye vpon the troupe of 
Ladies that glidered there like the darres of heauen, but at lad Loue willing to make 
him as amourous as he was valiant, prefented him with the fight of Rosalynd, whofe 
admirable beautie fo inueagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting himfelfe, he doode 
and fed his lookes on the fauour of Rosalynds face, which die perceiuing, blufht : 
which was fuch a doubling of her beauteous excellence, that the bafhfuU red of 
Aurora at the fight of vnacquainted Phaeton was not halfe fo glorious : The Norman 
feeing this young Gentleman fettered in the lookes of the Ladies, draue him out of his 
memento with a (hake by the dioulder ; Rosader looking back with an angrie frowne, 
as if he had been wakened from fome pleafant dreame, difcouered to all by the furie 
of his countenance that he was a man of fome high thoughts : but when they all 
noted his youth, and the fweeteneflfe of his vifage, with a generall applaufe of fauours, 
they grieucd that fo goodly a young man (hould venture in fo bafe an a<5lion : but fee- 
ing it were to his difhonour to hinder him from his enterprife, they wifht him to be 
graced with the palme of victorie. After Rosader was thus called out of his memento 
by the Norman, hee roughlie clapt to him with fo fierce an incounter, that they both 
fell to the ground, and with the violence of the fall were forced to breathe : in which 
fpace the Norman called to minde by all tokens, that this was hee whom Saladyne 



326 APPENDIX 

had appoynted him to kil ; which conie(5hire made him ilretch euerie limb, & trie 
euerie finew, that working his death he might recouer the golde, which fo bountifull^r 
was promifed him. On the contrarie part, Rosader while he breathed was not idle, 
but dill cafl his eye vppon Rosalynd, who to incourage him with a fauour, lent him 
fuch an amorous looke, as might haue made the moil coward defperate: which 
glance of Rosalynd fo fiered the pafTionate defires of Rosader, that turning to the 
Norman hee ran vpon him and braued him with a (Irong encounter ; the Norman 
receiued him as valiantly, that there was a fore combat, hard to iudge on whofe fide 
fortune would be prodigall. At lad. Rosader calling to minde the beautie of his new 
MidreiTe, the fame of his Fathers honours, and the difgrace that (hould fall to his 
houfe by his miffortune, roufed himfelfe and threw the Norman againd the ground, 
falling vpon his Ched with fo willing a waight, that the Norman yeelded nature her 
due, and Rosader the vidlorie. The death of this Champion ; as it highlie contented 
the Francklin, as a man fatiffied with reuenge, fo it drue the King and all the Peeres 
into a great admiration, that fo young yeares and fo beautifull a perfonage, Ihould 
containe fuch martiall excellence : but when they knew him to be the yongeft Soxme 
of Sir lohn of BourdeauXy the King rofe from his feate and imbraced him, and the 
Peeres intreated him with al fauourable courtefie, commending both his valour and 
his vertues, wilhing him to goe forward in fuch haughtie deedes, that he might attaine 
to the glorie of his Fathers honourable fortunes. As the King and Lordes graced 
him with embracing, fo the Ladies fauored him with their lookes, efpecially Rosa- 
lynd, whome the beautie and valour of Rosader had alreadie touched ; but 
die accounted loue a toye, and fancie a momentarie pafTion, that as it was I, ii, 25 
taken in with a gaze, might bee diaken off with a winck ; and therefore 
feared not to dallie in the dame, and to make Rosader knowe die affe<5led him ; tooke 
from hir neck a lewell, and fent it by a Page to the young Gentleman. The Prize 
that Venus gaue to Paris was not halfe fo pleafmg to the Troian, as this lemme was 
to Rosader : for if fortune had fwome to make him fole Monark of the world, he 
would rather haue refufed fuch dignitie, than haue lod the iewell fent him by Rosa- 
lynd. To retoume her with the like he was vnfumidied, and yet that hee might 
more than in his lookes difcouer his affe(5tion, he dept into a tent, and taking pen 
and paper writ this fancie. 

Thvo Sunnes at once from one f aire heauen there Jhinde^ 
Ten branches from two boughes tipt all with rofes^ 
Pure lockes more golden than is golde refinde^ 
Two pearled roioes that Natures pride inclofes : 

Two mounts f aire marble white j downe-foft and daintie^ 

A fnow died orbe\ where loue increast by pleafure 

Full wofuU makes my hearty and bodie faintie : 

Hir fair e (my woe) exceedes all thought and meafure. III, ii, 93 

Jn lines confufde my luckleff^e harme appeereth ; 
Whomforrow clowdes^ whom pleaf ant fmiling cleereth. 

This fonnet he fent to Rosalynd, which when die read, die bludit, but with a 
fweete content in that die perceaued loue had alotted her fo amorous a feruant Lean- 
ing her to her new intertayned fancies, againe to Rosader ; who triumphing in the 
glory of this conqued, accompanied with a troupe of young Gentlemen, that were 
defirous to be his familiars, went home to his brother Saladynes, who was walking 



LODGES ROSALYNDE yri 

before the gates, to lieare what fuccefle his brother Rosader (hould haue, alTaring him 
felf of his death, and deuifing how w< diflimuled forrow, to celebrate his funeralls ; 
as he was in this thought, hee cail vp his eye, & fawe where Rosader returned with 
the garlande on his heade, as hauing won the prize, accompanied with a crew of 
boone companions ; greened at this, hee (lepped in and (hut the gate. Rosader fee- 
ing this, and not looking for fuch vnkinde interta3mement, blufht at the difgrace, and 
yet fmothering his griefe with a fmile, he turned to the Gentlemen, and defired them 
to holde his brother excufed, for hee did not this vpon any malicious intent or nig- 
gardize, but being brought vp in the countrie, he abfented him felfe, as not fmding his 
nature fit for fuch youthfull companie. Thus hee fought to Ihadow abufes profTred 
him by his brother, but in vayne, for he could by no meanes be fuffered to enter : 
whereupon hee ran his foote againil the doore, and brake it open ; drawing his fworde 
and entring bouldly into the Hall, where hee founde none (for all were fled) but one 
Adam Spencer an Englifh man, who had been an olde and trudie feruant to Sir lohn 
of Bourdeaux : he for the loue he bare to his deceafed Maifler, fauored the part of 
Rosader, and gaue him and his fuch intertaynement as he coulde. Rosader gaue him 
thankes, and looking about, feeing the hall empty, faide, Gentlemen, you are wel- 
come, frolicke and be merie, you fhall be fure to haue Wine enough, whatfoeuer your 
fare be, I tell you Caualiers my brother hath in his houfe, fine tunne of wine, and as 
long as that lafleth, I befhrewe him that fpares his liquor. With that he burfl open 
the butterie dore, and with the helpe of Adam Spencer, couered the Tables, and fet 
downe whatfoeuer he could finde in the houfe, but what they wanted in meate, Rosa- 
der fupplied with drinke, yet had they royall cheere, and withall fuch a hartie wel- 
come, as would haue made the courfcfl meates, feeme delicates. After they had 
feafled and frolickt it twife or thrife with an vpfey freeze, they all tooke their leaues 
of Rosader and departed. AlToone as they were gone Rosader growing impatient of 
the abufe, drewe his fworde, and fwore to be reuenged on the difcurteous Salad3me : 
yet by the meanes of Adam Spencer, who fought to continue friendfhip and amitie 
betwixt the brethren, and through the flattering fubmiffion of Saladyne, they were 
once agayne reconciled, & put vp all fore pafTed iniuries, with a peaceable agreement, 
lining together for a good fpace in fuch brotherly loue, as did not onely reioyce the 
feruants, but made all the Gentlemen and bordring neighbours glad of fuch friendlie 
concord. Saladyne hiding fire in the draw, and concealing a poysoned hate in a 
p>eaceable countenance, yet deferring the intent of his wrath till fitter opportimitie, he 
(hewed him felfe a great fauorer of his brothers vertuous endeuours : where leaning 
them in this happie league, let vs retume to Rosalynd. 

Rosalynd returning home frxmi the triumph, after fhe waxed folitarie, loue pre- 
fented her with the Idea of Rosaders perfe<flion, and taking her at difcouert, flrooke 
her fo deepe, as fhe felt her felfe grow pafTmg paffionate : fhe began to cail to minde 
the comelinefTe of his perfon, the honor of his parents, and the vertues that excelling 
both, made him fo g^cious in the eies of euerie one. Sucking in thus the hony of 
loue, by imprinting in her thoughtes his rare qualities, fhe began to furfit with the con- 
templation of his vertuous conditions, but when fhe cald to remembrance her prefent 
eflate, and the hardneffe of her fortunes, defire began to fhrink, & fancy to vale bon- 
net, that betweene a Chaos of confufed thoughtes, fhe began to debate with her felfe 

in this manner. R osalynds pafsion . Infortunate Rosal3md, whofe mif- 

fortunes are more than thy yeeres, and whofe paffions are greater than thy patience. 
The bloiTomes of thy youth, are mixt with the fh>fles of enuie, and the hope of thy 
enfuing fhites, perifh in the bud. Thy father is by Torismond banifht from the 



328 APPENDIX 

crowne, & thou the vnhappie daughter of a King detained captiue, liuing as difquieted 
in thy thoughts, as thy father difconteted in his exile. Ah Rosalynd what cares wait 
▼pO a crown, what griefes are incident to dignitie ? what forrowes haunt royal Pal- 
laces 9 The greateft feas haue the forefl ilormes, the highefl birth fubie<5l to the mofl 
bale, and of al trees the Cedars foonefl (hake with the winde : fmall Currents are euer 
calme, lowe valleyes not fcorcht in any lightnings, nor bafe men tyed to anye balefull 
preiudice. Fortune flies, & if (he touch pouertie, it is with her heele, rather difdayn- 
ing their want with a frowne, than enuying their wealth with difparagement. Oh 
Rosalynd, hadd thou been borne lowe, thou hadft not fallen fo high ; and yet being 
great of bloud, thine honour is more, if thou brookeil miffortune with patience. Sup 
pofe I contrary fortune with content, yet Fates Tnwilling to haue me any way happie, 
haue forced loue to fet my thoughts on fire with fancie. Loue Rosalind 9 becommeth 
it women in dillreire to thinke of loue ^ Tu(h, defu^ hath no refpe<5l of perfons, 
Cupid is bhnde and (hooteth at randon, as foone hitting a rag, as a robe, and percing 
aflbone the bofome of a Captiue, as the bread of a Libertine. Thou fpeakeil it poore 
Rosalynd by experience, for being euerie way didreft, furcharged with cares, and 
ouergrowne with forrowes, yet amidd the heape of all thefe mifliaps, loue hath lodged 
in thy hart the perfe<5lion of young Rosader, a man euery way abfolute as well for his 
inward life, as for his outward lyniaments, able to content the eye with beauty, and 
the eare with the report of his vertue. But confider Rosalind his fortunes, and thy 
prefent eflate, thou art poore and without patrimonie, and yet the daughter of a Prince, 
he a younger brother, and voide of fuch poflefTions as eyther might maintayne thy 
dignities, or reuenge thy fathers iniuries. And had thou not learned this of other 
Ladies, that louers cannot liue by lookes ; that womens eares are fooner content with 
a dram of giue me, than a pound of heare me ; that gould is fweeter than eloquence ; 
that loue is a fire, & wealth is the fewell ; that Venus Coffers fhould be euer full. 
Then Rosal3md, feeing Rosader is poore, thinke him leffe beautifull, becaufe he is in 
want, and account his vertues but qualities of courfe, for that hee is not indued with 
wealth. Doth not Horace tell thee what methode is to be vsed in loue, Querenda 
pecunia primum^ post nummos virtus, 

Tufh Rosalynd, be not ouer rafh ; leape not before thou looke ; eyther loue fuch a 
one as may with his landes purchafe thy liberty, or els loue not at all. Choofe not a 
fayre face with an emptie purfe, but fay as mofl women yfe to fay, Si nihil attuUris, 
ibis Homere foras. 

Why Rosalynd, can fuch bafe thoughtes harbour in fuch high beauties 9 Can the 
degree of a Princes, the daughter of Gerismond harbour fuch feruile conceites, as to 
prize gold more than honor, or to meafure a Gentleman by his wealth, not by his ver- 
tues. No Ro6al3md, blufh at thy bafe resolution, and fay if thou louefl, either Rosa- 
der or none : and why 9 becaufe Rosader is both beautifull and vertuous. Smiling 
to her felfe to thinke of her new entertajmed pafHons, taking vp her Lute that lay by 
her, (he warbled out this dittie. 

Rofal3mds Madrigal. 

Loue in my hofotne like a Bee 

dothfucke hisfweete : 
New with his wings he playes with me^ 
now with his feete. 
Within mine ties he makes his neastf 
His bed amidst my tender breast^ 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 329 

My kijfes are his daily feast \ 
And yet he robs me of my rest. 
Ah wanton^ will ye ? 

And if JJltepey then pearcheth he 

with pretie flighty 
And makes his pillow of my knee 
the liuelong night. 
Strike I my lute he tunes the firings 
He muficke playes if fo Ifingy 
He lends me etierie louelie thing \ 
Yet cruell he my heart doth fling, 
Whifi wanton ftill ye ? 

Els I with rofes euerie day 

wUl whip you hence ; 
And binde you when you long to play , 
for your offence. 
Hefhut mine eyes to keepe you in, 
He make you fast it for your finne. 
He count your power not worth apinne; 
Ahlas what hereby fhall Iwinne, 
Jf he gainfay me ? 

WhcU if Jbeate the wanton boy 

with manie a rod? 
He will repay me with annoy, 
becaufe a God. 
Then fit thoufafely on my knee. 
And let thy bowre my bofome be : 
Lurke in mine eyes J like of thee: 
Oh Cupid /tf thoupitie me. 

Spare not but play thee. 

Scarce had Rosalynde ended her Madrigale, before Torismond came in with his 
daughter Alinda, and manie of the Peeres of France, who were enamoured of her 
beautie : which Torismond perceiuing, fearing lead her perfe<5lion might be the begin- 
ning of his preiudice, and the hope of his fruite ende in the beginning of her blof- 
fomes, hee thought to banifh her from the Court : for quoth he to himfelfe, her face is 
fo full of fauour, that it pleades pitie in the eye of euerie man ; her beautie is fo 
heauenly and deuine, that (he will prooue to me as Helen did to Priam : fome one of 
the Peeres will a3rme at her loue, ende the marriage, and then in his wiues right 
attempt the kingdome. To preuent therefore had I will in all thefe a<5tions, (he 
tarries not about the Court, but (hall (as an exile) either wander to her father, or els 
feeke other fortunes. In this humour, with a fleame countenance fiill of wrath, hee 
breathed out this cenfure vnto her before the Peeres, that charged her that that night 
(hee were not feene about the Court : for (quoth he) I haue heard of thy afpiring 
fpeaches, and intended treafons. This doome was (Irange vnto Rosalynde, and pref- 
ently couered with the (hield of her innocence, (hee boldly brake out in reuerend 
tearmes to haue cleared her felfe : but Torismond would admit of no reafon, nor 
durft his Lordes plead for Rosalynde, although her beautie had made fome of them 



33© APPENDIX 

pafTionate, feeing the figure of wrath portraied in his brow. Standing thus all mute, 
and Rosalynde amazed, Alinda who loued her more than her felfe, with griefe in her 
heart, & teares in her eyes, falling downe on her knees, began to intreate her father 

thus: Alindas oration to her father in defence of fa ire Rofa- 

lynde. If (mightie Torismond) I offende in pleading for my friend, let the law 

of amitie craue pardon for my boldnes ; for where there is depth of affe(flion, there 
friendlhip alloweth a priuiledge. Rosalynde and I haue beene foflered vp from our 
infancies, and nurfed vnder the harbour of our conuerfing together with fuch priuate 
familiarities, that cuflome had wrought an vnion of our nature, and the fympathie of 
our afiedtions fuch a fecrete loue, that we haue two bodies, and one foule. Then 
meruaiie not (great Torismond) if feeing my friend diftreft, I finde my felfe perplexed 
with a thoufand forrowes : for her vertuous and honourable thoughts (which are the 
glories that maketh women excellent) they be fuch, as may challenge loue, and race 
out fufpition : her obedience to your Maieilie, I referre to the cenfure of your owne 
eye, that fmce her fathers exile hath fmotbered all griefes with patience, and in the 
abfence of nature, hath honoured you with all dutie, as her owne Father by nouriture : 
not in word vttering anie difcontent, nor in thought (as farre as coniedhire may reach) 
hammering on reuenge ; onely in all her adlions feeking to pleafe you, & to winne my 
fauour. Her wifedome, filence, chaditie, and other fuch rich qualities, I need not 
decypher : onely it reds for me to conclude in one word, that (he is innocent. If 
then. Fortune who triumphs in varietie of miferies, hath prefented fome enuious per- 
fon (as minider of her intended dratagem) to taint Rosalynde with anie furmife of 
treafon, let him be brought to her face, and conBrme his accufation by witneifes ; 
which prooued, let her die, and Alinda will execute the malTacre. If none can 
auouch anie confirmed relation of her intent, vfe ludice my Lord, it is the glorie of a 
King, and let her line in your wonted fauour : for if you banifh her, my felfe as 
copartner of her hard fortunes, wil participate in exile fome part of her extremities. 
Torismond (at this fpeach of AUnda) couered his face with fuch a frowne, as 
T3rrannie feemed to fit triumphant in his forehead, and checkt her vp with fuch taunts, 
as made the Lords (that onlie were hearers) to tremble. Proude girle (quoth he) 
hath my lookes made thee fo light of timg, or my fauours incouraged thee to be fo 
forward, that thou dared prefume to preach ader thy father ? Hath not my yeares 
more experience than thy youth, and the winter of mine age deeper infight into ciuill 
policie, than the prime of thy florifhing dales ? The olde Eion auoides the toyles 
where the yong one leapes mto the net : the care of age is prouident and forefees 
much : fufpition is a vertue, where a man holds his enemie in his bofome. Thou 
fonde girle meafured all by prefent affe<5lion, & as thy heart loues thy thoughts cen- 
fure : but if thou knewed that in liking Rosalynd thou hatched vp a bird 
to pecke out thine owne eyes, thou wouldd intreate as much for her I, iii, 83 / 
abfence, as now thou delighted in her prefence. But why do I alleadge 
policie to thee 9 fit you downe hufwife and fall to your needle : if idlenefTe make yon 
fo wanton, or libertie fo malipert, I can quicklie tie yon tool ftiarper tafke : and you 
(maide) this night be packing either into Arden to your father, or whether bed it (hall 
content your humour, but in the Court you (hall not abide. This rigorous replje of 
Torismond nothing amazed Alinda, for dill (he profecuted her plea in the defence of 
Rosalynd, wilhing her father (if his cenfure might not be reuerd) that he would 
appoint her partner of her exile ; which if he refufed to doo, either (he would (by 
fome fecret meanes) deale out and followe her, or els end her daies with fome def- 
perate kinde of death. When Torismond heard his daughter fo refolnie, hit heart 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 331 

was fo hardened againfl her, that he fet downe a definitiue and peremptorie fentence 
that they (hould both be banifhed : which prefentlie was done. The Tyrant rather 
choofing to hazard the lolTe of his only child, than any waies to put in quedion the 
(late of his kingdome : fo fufpicious and feareful is the confcience of an vfurper. 
Well, although his Lords perfwaded him to retaine his owne daughter, yet his refo- 
lution might not bee reuerd, but both of them mud away from the court without either 
more companie or delay. In he went with great melancholie, and left thefe two 
Ladies alone. Rosalynd waxed very fad, and fat downe and wept. Alinda (he 
fmiled, and fitting by her friende began thus to comfort her. Alindas com- 
fort to perplexed Rofalynd. Why how now Rosalynd, difmaide with a 

frowne of contraric fortune ^ Haue I not oft heard thee fay that high minds were 
difcouered in fortunes contempt, and heroycall feene in the depth of extremities <? 
Thou wert wont to tell others that complained of diflrefTc, that the fweeteil falue for 
miferie was patience ; and the onlie medicine for want, that precious implaider of 
'content : being fuch a good Phifition to others, wilt thou not miniiler receipts to thy 
lelfe 9 But perchance thou wilt fay : Confulenti nunquam caput doluit. 

Why, then, if the patients that are ficke of this difeafe can finde in themfelues neither 
reafon to perfwade, nor arte to cure ; yet (Rosalynd) admit of the counfaile of a friend, 
and applie the falues that may appeafe thy pafTions. If thou grieued that beeing the 
daughter of a Prince, and enuie thwarteth thee with fuch hard exigents, thinke that 
royaltie is a faire marke ; that Crownes haue crolTes when mirth is in Cottages ; that 
the fairer the Rofe is, the fooner it is bitten with Catterpillers ; the more orient the 
Pearle is, the more apt to take a blemilh ; and the greated birth, as it hath mod 
honour, fo it hath much enuie. If then Fortune aimeth at the faired, be patient 
Rosalynd ; for fird by thine exile thou goed to thy father ; nature is higher prifed 
than wealth, & the loue of ones parents ought to bee more precious than all dignities : 
why then doth my Rosalynd grieue at the frowne of Torismond, who by offering her 
a preiudice, proffers her a greater pleafure S and more (mad lafTe) to be melancholie, 
when thou had with thee Alinda a frend, who will be a faithful! copartner of al thy 
miffortunes, who hath left her father to foUowe thee, and choofeth rather to brooke 
all extremities than to forfake thy prefence. What Rosalynd : Solamen mi/eris focios 
habuijfe doloris. 

Cheerelie woman, as wee haue been bedfellowes in royaltie, we will be fellowe 
mates in pouertie : I will euer bee thy Alinda, and thou (halt euer red to me Rosa- 
lynd : fo (hall the world canonize our friendfhip, and fpeake of Rosalynd and Alinda, 
as they did of Pilades and Orestes. And if euer Fortune fmile and wee retume to 
our former honour, then folding our felues in the fweete of our friendfhip, wee fhall 
merelie fay (calling to minde our forepaffed miferies) ; Olim hcsc meminijfe iuuabit. 

At this Rosalynd began to comfort her; and after fhee had wept a fewe kind 
teares in the bofome of her Alinda, fhe gaue her heartie thanks, and then they fat 
them downe to confult how they (hould trauell. Alinda grieued at nothing but that 
they might haue no man in their companie : faying, it would be their greated preiu- 
dice in that two women went wandring without either guide or attendant Tufh 
(quoth Rosalynd) art thou a woman, and had not a fodaine (hid to pre- 
uent a miffortune ^ I (thou feed) am of a tall dature, and would very I, iii, zaz 
well become the perfon and apparell of a page, thou (halt bee my Midris, 
and I will play the man fo properly, that (trud me) in what company fo euer I come 
I will not be difcouered ; I will buy mee a fuite, and haue my rapier very handfomely 
at my fide, and if any knaue ofier wrong, your page will (hew him the point of his 



332 APPENDIX 

weapon. At this Alinda fiooiled, and vpon this they agreed, and prefentlie gathered 
vp all their lewels, which they trufTed vp in a Caf ket, and Rosalynd in all haft pro- 
oided her of roabes, and Alinda (from her royall weedes) pat her felfe in more home- 
lie attire. Thus fitted to the purpofe, away goe thefe two friends, hauing 
now changed their names, Alinda being called Aliena, and Rosal3md I, iii, 131 
Ganimede : they trauailed along the Vineyards, and by many by-waies ; 
at laft got to the Forreft fide, where they trauailed by the fpace of two or three daies 
without feeing anie creature, being often in danger of wild beads, and pajmed nvith 
many pafiionate forrowes. Now the black Oxe b^an to tread on their feete, and 
Alinda thought of her wonted royaltie : but when (he call her eyes on her Rosalynd, 
(he thought enerie danger a ilep to honour. Pafllng thus on along, about midday they 
came to a Fountaine, compad with a groue of Cipreflfe trees, fo cunninglie and 
curiouflie planted, as if fome Goddeflfe had intreated Nature in that place to make 
her an Arbour. By this Fountaine fat Aliena and her Ganimede, and foorth they 
pulled fuch Ti(5hialls as they had, and fed as merilie as if they had been in Paris 
with all the Kings delicates : Aliena onely grieuing that they could not fo much as 
meete with a (hepheard to difcourfe them the way to fome place where they might 
make their aboade. At lad Ganimede cading vp his eye efpied where on a tree was 
ingrauen certaine verfes : which aflbone as he efpied, he cried out ; bee of good 
cheere Midris, I fpie the figures of men ; for here in thefe trees be ingrauen certaine 
verfes of diepheards, or fome other fwaines that inhabite here about With that 
Aliena dart vp ioyfull to heare thefe newes ; and looked, where they found earned in 
the barke of a Pine tree this pafTion. 

Montanus palsion. 

Hadft thou been borne whereas perpetuall cold 
Makes Tanais hard^ and mountaines Jiluer old: 
Had I complained vnto a marble ftone ; 
Or to theflotids bewraide my bitter mone, 

I then could beare the burden of my grief e. 
But euen the pride of Countries at thy birth, 
WhiVJl heauens did f mile did new aray the earth 

with flowers chiefe. 
Yet thou the flower of beautie bleffed borne, 
Hafl pretie lookes, but all attired in f come. 

Had J the power to weepe fweet Mirrhas teares\ 
Or by my plaints to pearce repining eares ; 
Hadft thou the heart to f mile at my complaint \ 
To f come the woes that doth my heart attaint, 

I then could beare the burden of my grief e. 
But not my teares, but truth with thee preuaUes, 
And feeming fowre my forowes thee ajfailes : 

yet f mall relief e. 
For if thou wilt thou art of marble hard; 
And if thou pleafe my fuite fhall foone be heard. 

No doubt (quoth Aliena) this poefie is the pafTion of fome perplexed (hepheard, 
that being enamoured of fome faire and beautifull ShepheardeiTe, fuffered fome (harpe 
repulfe, and therefore complained of the crueltie of his Midris. You may fee (quoth 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 333 

Ganimede) what mad cattell you women be, wbofe hearts fometimes are made of 
Adamant that will touch with no imprefTion ; and fometime of waxe that is fit for 
euerie forme : they delight to be courted, and then they glorie to feeme coy ; and 
when they are mod defired then they freefe with difdaine : and this fault is fo com- 
mon to the fex, that you fee it painted out in the (hepheards pafTions, who found his 
Miflris as froward as he was enamoiu^d. And I pray you (quoth Aliena) if your 
roabes were off, what mettall are you made of that you are fo fatyricall 
againft women ^ Is it not a foule bird defiles the owne nefl 9 Beware IV, i, 195 
(Ganimede) that Rosader heare you not ; if he doo, perchance you will 
make him leape fo far from loue, that he wil anger euery vain in your hart. Thus 
(quoth Ganimede) I keepe decorum, I fpeake now as I am Alienas page, not as I 
am Gerismonds daughter : for put me but into a peticoate, and I will (land in defiance 
to the vttermofl that women are courteous, conflant, vertuous, and what not. Stay 
there (quoth Aliena) and no more words ; for yonder be Canuflers grauen vpon the 
barke of the tall Beech tree : let vs fee (quoth Ganimede) : and with that they read 
a fieuicie written to this ef!e<5L 

Firftjhall the heautns wantftarrie light \ 
The/eas be robbed of their waues ; 
The day want f unite y and funne want bright \ 
The night wantjhade^ the dead men graues ; 

The ApH II y flowers and leafe and tree, 

Before Ifalfe my faith to thee, 

Firftfhall the tops of highefl hills 
By humble plaines be ouerpride\ 
And Poets f come the Mufes quills. 
And fifh forfake the water glide; 

And Iris loofe her coloured weed. 

Before Ifaile thee at thy need, 

Fir/l direfull hate fh all tume to peace. 
And hue relent in deepe difdaine ; 
And death his fatall flroake fhall ceafe. 
And enuie pitie euery paine ; 

And pleafure maumey aud forowe fmile. 

Before I talke of any guile, 

Firfi time fhall flay his ftayleffe race. 
And winter bleffe his browes with come; 
And f now bemoysten Julies face ; 
And winter fpring, andfommer moume. 

Before my pen by helpe of fame, 

Ceafe to recite thy f acred name, Montanus. 

No doubt (quoth Ganimede) this proteflation grewe from one full of pafTions. I 
am of that mind too (quoth Aliena) but fee I pray, when poore women feeke to keepe 
themfelues chad, how men woo them with many fained promifes, alluring with fweet 
words as the Syrens, and after proouing as trothlelTe as AEneas. Thus promifed 
Demophoon to his Phillis, but who at lafl grewe more falfe ? The reafon was (quoth 
Ganimede) that they were womens fonnes, and tooke that fault of their mother ; for 
if man had growen from man, as Adam did from the earth, men had neuer been 



334 APPENDIX 

txoubled with inconflancie. Leaue off (quoth Aliena) to taunt thus bitterly, or els 
He pul off your pages apparell and whip you (as Venus doth her wantons) with net- 
ties. So you will (quoth Ganimede) perfwade me to flattrie, and that needs not : but 
come (feeing we haue found heere by this Fount the trackt of Shepheards by their 
Madrigals and Roundelaies) let vs forward; for either we (hall finde fome foldes, 
Iheepcoates, or els fome cottages wherein for a day or two to reft. Cotent (quoth 
Aliena) and with that they rofe vp, and marched forward till towards the euen : and 
then comming into a faire valley (compaffed with mountaines, whereon grewe many 
pleafant (hrubbs) they might defcrie where two flocks of (heepe did feede. Theo 
looking about, they might perceiue where an old Ihepheard fat (and with him a yong 
fwaine) vnder a couert moft pleafantlie fcituated. The ground where they fat was 
diapred with Floras riches, as if (he ment to wrap Tellus in the glorie of her vefl- 
ments : round about in the forme of an Amphitheater were moft curiouflie planted 
Pine trees, interfeamed with Limons and Citrons, which with the thickneffe of their 
boughes fo fhadowed the place, that Phoebus could not prie into the fecret of that 
Arbour ; fo vnited were the tops with fo thicke a clofure, that Venus might there in 
her ioUitie haue dallied vnfeene with her deereft paramour. Faft by (to make the 
place more gorgeous) was there a Fount fo Chriflalline and cleere, that it feemed 
Diana with her Driades and Hemadriades had that fpring, as the fecrete of all their 
bathings. In this glorious Arbour fat thefe two fhepheards (feeing their fheepe feede) 
playing on their pipes many pleafant tunes, and from mufick and melodic falling into 
much amorous chat : drawing more nigh wee might defcrie the countenance of the 
one to be full of forowe, his face to be the verie pourtraiture of difcontent, and his 
eyes full of woes, that lining he feemed to dye : wee (to heare what thefe were) ftol« 
priuilie behind the thicke, where we ouerfaeard this difcourfe. 

A pleafant Eglog betweene Montanus and G>ridon. 

Condon. 
Say /hepheards boy, what makes thee greet fo fore f 
Why leaues thy pipe his pleafure and delight f 
Yong are thy yeareSj thy cheekes with roses dight: 
Then fing for ioy {^fweet fwaine) andfigh no more* 

This milke white Poppie and this climbing Pine 
Both promifefhade ; then fit thee downe and fing^ 
And make thefe woods with pleafant notes to ring^ 

TVl Phoebus daine all Westward to decline. 

Montanus. 
Ah (Coridon) vnmeet is melodie 
To him whom proud contempt hath ouerbome : 
Slaine are my ioys by Phcebes bitter fcome^ 
Farre hence my weale and nere my ieopardii, 

Lotus burning brand is couched in my brefl^ 
Making a Phoenix of my faintfull hart : 
And though his furie doo inforce my fmart^ 
Ay blyth am I to honour his behefl, 

Preparde to woesfincefo my Phoebe wUls^ 
My lookes dif maid fence Phoebe wUl difdaim x 
Ibanifh bliffe and welcome home mypaimi 
Soflreame my teares as fhowers from Alpine kiUi. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 335 

Jn errours mask£ Iblmdfolde iudgements eyt^ 
J fetter reafon in thefnares of lust^ 
Jfeemefecure, yet know not how to trust i 
J Hue by thaty which makes me liuing die, 

Deuoyd of rest, compani4m of distreffe^ 
Plagtie to myfelfey confumed by my thought \ 
How may my voyce or pipe in tune be brought t 
Since J am reft of folace and delight. 

Condon. 
Ah Lorrell lad, what makes thee Herry loue t 
A fugred harme, a poyfon full of pleafure^ 
A painted fhrine fulfild with rotten treafure^ 
A heauen infkew, a hell to them that proue, 

Againe, in feeming fhadowed ftill with want, 
A broken fiaffe which follie doth vpholde, 
A flower that fades with euerie frostie colde. 
An orient rofe f prong from a wythred plant, 

A minutes iqy to gaine a world of greefe, 
A fubtill net tofnare the idle minde, 
A feeing Scorpion ^ yet in feeming blinde, 
A poore reioyce, a plague without releefe. 

For thy M.onXaji\x& follow mine arreede, 

( Whom age hath taught the traynes thatfancie vfetK) 

Leauefoolifh loue ; for beautie wit abufeth. 

And drownes (by follie) vertues fpringing feede, 

Montanus. 
So blames the childe the flame, becaufe it bumes ; 
And bird thefnare, becaufe it doth intrap ; 
Andfooles true loue, becaufe of forrie hap ; 
Andfaylers curffe thefkip that ouertumes : 

But would the childe forbeare to play with flame ^ 
And birdes beware to trust the fowlers ginne, 
Andfooles forefee before they fall andfinne. 
And maiflers guide their fhips in better frame ; 

The childe would praife the fire, becaufe it warmtt\ 

The birds reioyce, to fee the fowler faile ; 

And fooles preuent, before their plagues preuaile\ 

Andfaylers bleffe the barke that faues from harmei. 

Ah Coridoo, though manie be thy yeares. 
And crooked elde hathfome experience left\ 
Yet is thy minde of iudgement quite bereft 
In view of loue, whofe power in me appeares. 

The ploughman little wots to tume the pen^ 
Or bookeman skills to guide the ploughmans carif 
Nor can the cobler count the tearmes of Art, 
Nor bafe men iudge the thoughts of migktie men % 



336 APPENDIX 

Nor wythered age {ynmeete for beauties guide^ 
Vncapable of lotus imprejjion) 
Difcourfe of that, whofe choyce poffejfion 
May netter tofo bafe a man be tied. 

But I {whom nature makes of tender molde^ 
And youth most pliant yeeldes to fancies fire^ 
Doo builde my hauen and heauen onfweete defire, 
Onfweete defire more deere to me than golde, 

Thinke I of loue, d how my lines aspire ? 
How hast the Mufes to imbrace my browes. 
And hem my temples in with lawrell bowes. 
And fill my braines with chafl and holy fire ? 

Then leaue my lines their homely equipage^ 
Mounted beyond the circle of the Sunne ; 
Amas^d I read theftile when I haue done. 
And Herry Loue that fent that heauenly rage. 

Of Phcebc then, of Phcebe then Ifmg, 
Drawing the puritie of all the fpheares. 
The pride of earth, or what in heauen appeares. 
Her honoured face and fame to light to bring, 

Jn fluent numbers and in pleafant vaines, 
J rob both fea and earth of all their ftate. 
To praife her parts : I charme both time and fate. 
To blefse the Nymph that yieldes me loue ficke paints. 

Myfheepe are turned to thoughts, whom fronvard wiU 
Guides in the restleffe Laborynth of loue, 
Feare lends them paflure wherefoere they moue. 
And by their death their life renueth fiill, 

Hyfheephooke is my pen, mine oaten reede 
My paper, where my manie woes are written \ 
Thus filly fwaine {with loue andfancie bitten) 
J trace the plaines of paine in wofull weede. 

Yet are my cares, my broken fleepes, my teares. 
My dreames, my doubts, for l^hcehe fweete to me: 
Who wayteth heauen inforrowes vale must be. 
And glorie fhines where danger most appeares. 

Then Coridon although J blythe me not. 
Blame me not man, fince forrow is my fweete\ 
So willeth Loue, and Phcebe thinkes it meete. 
And kinde Montanus liketh well his lot, 

Coridon. 
Oh flaylefse youth, by errourfo mif guided; 
Where will prefcribeth lawes to perfeifl wits. 
Where reafon moumes, and blame in triumph fiis^ 
And follie poyfoneth all that time prouided. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 337 

With wilfull hlindnejfe bleardy preparde tojhame^ 
Prone to negUifl Occafion when Jhe f miles : 
Alas that Lone (by fond and froward guiles^ 
Should make thee traifl the path to endlejfe blame. 

Ah {my Montanus) curfed is the charme 
That hath bewitched fo thy youthfull eyes : 
Leaue off in time to like thefe vanities ; 
Be forward to thy goody and fly thy harme. 

As manie bees as Hibia daily Jhields^ 
As manie frie asfleete on Oceans /ace. 
As manie heards as on the earth doo trace. 
As manie Jlowres as decke the fragrant fields. 

As manie ftarres as glorious heauen containes, 
As manie ftormes as wayward winter weepes. 
As manie plagues as hell inclofed keepes ; 
So manie greefes in loue,fo manie paines, 

Sufpitions, thoughts, defires, opinions, praiers, 
Miflikes, mifdeedes, fond ioyes, and fained peace, 
Jllufeons, dreames, great paines, and f mall increafe, 
Vowes, hopes, acceptance, f comes, and deepe defpaires. 

Truce, warre, and woe doo waite at beauties gate ; 
Time loft, lament, reports, and priuie grudge. 
And laft, fierce Loue is but a partiall Judge, 
Who yeeldes for feruice fhame, for friendftiip hate, 

Montanus. 
All Adder-like I ft op mine eares {fondfwaine) 
So charme no more ; for I will neuer change. 
Call home thyftockcs in time thatftragling range : 
For loe, the Sunne declineth hence amaine. 

Terentius. 
Jn amore hctc omnia infunt vitia, inducia, inimicita, bellum, pcuc rurfum : incerta 
hcecfi tu postules, ratione certa fieri nihilo plus agas, quamfi des operam, vt cum 
raiione infanias. 

The (hepbeards bailing thus ended their Eglogue, Aliena flept with Ganimede 

from bcbinde the thicket : at'whofe fodaine fight the (hepbeards arofe, and Aliena 

faluted them thus ; Sbepheards all haile, (for fuch wee deeme you by your flockes) 

and Louers, good lucke ; (for fuch you feeme by your paflions) our eyes being wit- 

nefle of the one, and our eares of the other. Although not by Loue, yet by Fortune, 

I am a diflrelTed Gentlewoman, as forrowful as you are pafTionate, and as full of woes 

as you of perplexed thoughts : wandring this way in a forreft vnknowen, onely I and 

my Page, wearied with trauaile would faine baue fome place of reft. May you 

appoint vs anie place of quiet harbour, (be it neuer fo meane) I (hall be thankfull to 

you, contented in my felfe, and gratefull to whofoeuer (hall bee mine hofte. Coridon 

hearing the Gentlewoman fpeak fo courteoufly returned her mildly and reuerentlie 

this aunfwere. 

Faire Miftres, we retume you as beartie a welcome, as you gaue vs a coiirteous 
aa 



338 APPENDIX 

falute. A (hepheard I am, & this a loner, as watchful to pleafe his wench, as to feed 
his (heep : full of fancies, and therefore (fay I) full of follies. Exhort him I may, 
but perfwade him I cannot ; for Loue admits neither of counfaile, nor reafon. But 
leauing him to his palTions, if you be didrefl, I am forrowfuU fuch a faire creature is 
croil w< calamitie : pray for you I may, but releeue you I cannot : marry, if you want 
lodging, if you vouch to (hrowd your felues in a fhepheards cotage, my houfe (for this 
night) fhalbe your harbour. Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and prefently fate her 
downe and Ganimede by her. Condon looking eameilly vppon her, and with a 
curious furuey viewing all her perfe(flions, applauded (in his thought) her excellence, 
and pitying her diilrelTe, was defirons to heare the caufe of her miffortnnes, began to 
queflion with her thus. 

If I (hould not (faire Damofell) occafionate offence, or renae yotr griefes by rub- 
bing the fcarre, I would faine craue fo much fauour, as to know the caufe of your 
miffortime : and why, and whether you wander with your page in fo dangerous a for- 
reil. Aliena (that was as courteous as (he was faire) made this reply ; Shepheard, a 
friendlie demaund ought neuer to be offenfiue, and quedions of courtefie carrie priui- 
ledged pardons in their forheads. Know therfore, to difcouer my fortunes were to 
renue my forrowcs, and I (hould by difcouHing my mi(haps, but rake fier out of the 
cinders. Therefore let this fuffice (gentle (hepheard) my didrelTe is as great as my 
trauell is dangerous, and I wander in this forred, to light on fome cottage where I 
and my Page may dwell : for I meane to buy fome farme, and a flocke of (heepe, and 
fo become a (hepheardeiTe, meaning to liue low, and content me with a countrey life : 
for I haue heard the fwaynes fay, that they dninke without fufpition, & (lept without 
care. Marry Miflres (quoth Coridon) if yon meane fo you came in a good time, for 
my landdord intends to fell both the farrae I till, and the flocke I keepe, & cheap you 
may haue them for readie money : and for a (hepheards life (oh MiflreiTe) did you 
but liue a while in their content, you would faye the Court were rather a place of for- 
rowe, than of folace. Here (Miflreffe) (hall not Fortune thwart you, but in meane 
miffortunes, as the lofTe of a few (heepe, which, as it breedes no beggerie, fo it can bee 
no extreame preiudice : the next yeare may mend al with a fre(h increafe. Enuie 
(lirres not vs, wee couet not to climbe, our defires mount not aboue our degrees, nor 
our thoughts aboue our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our cottages, nor doo our 
homely couches know broken (lumbers : as we exceede not in diet, fo we haue inongh 
to fatifRe : and Midres I haue fo much Latin, Satis est quod fufficit. 

By my troth (hepheard (quoth Aliena) thou maked me in loue with your conntrey 
life, and therefore fende for thy Landdord, and I will buy thy farme and thy flockes, 
& thou (halt dill (vnder me) be onerfeer of them both ; onely for pleafurefake I and 
my Page will feme you, lead the flocks to the field, and folde them : thus will I line 
quiet, vnknowcn, and contented. This newes fo gladded the hart of Coridon, that 
he (hould not be put out of his farme, that (putting off his (hepheards bonnet) he did 
her all the reuerence that he might. But all this while fate Montanus in a mnfe 
thinking of the crueltie of his Phoebe, whom he woed long, but was in no hope to 
winne. Ganimede who dill had the remembrance of Rosader in his thoughts, tooke 
delight to fee the poore (hepheard paffionate, laughing at loue that in all his atftions 
was fo imperious. At lad when (hee had noted his teares that dole downe his cheekes, 
and his fighes that broake from the center of his heart, pittying his lament, (he de- 
maunded of Coridon why the young (hepheard looked fo forrowfuU 9 Oh fir (quoth 
he) the boy is in loue. WTiy (quoth Ganimede) can (hepheards loue ? I (quoth 
Montanus) and ouerloue, els (houldd not thou fee me fo pcnfme. Loue (I tell thee) 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 339 

is as precious in a (hepbeards eye as in the lookes of a King, and we cotmtrey fwaynes 
intertain fancie with as great delight, as the proudeil courtier doth affe<5lion. Oppor- 
tunitie (that is the fweeteil freind to Venus) harboureth in our cottages, and loyaltie 
(the chiefefl fealtie that Cupid requires) is found more among Ihepheards than higher 
degrees. Then af ke not if fuch filly fwaynes can loue ? What is the cause then, 
quoth Ganimede, that Loue being fo fweete to thee, thou lookeft fo forrowfull^ 
Becaufe, quoth Montanus, the partie beloued is froward : and hauing courtefie in her 
lookes, boldeth difdaine in her tongues ende. What hath (he then quoth Aliena, in 
her heart 9 Defire (I hope Madame) quoth he : or els my hope loft, defpaire in Loue 
were death. As thus they chatted, the Sunne being readie to fet, and they not hauing 
folded their (heepe, Coridon requefted (he would fit there with her Page, till Montanus 
and he lodged their (heepe for that night You (hall goe quoth Aliena, but firft I will 
intreate Montanus to (ing fome amorous Sonnet, that bee made when he hath been 
deeply padionate. That I will quoth Montanus : and with that he began thus. 

Montanus Sonnet. 
Phoebe /a/tf 

Sfuette Jhe fatet 

Sweetefaie Phoebe when Ifano her^ 
White her brow^ 
Coy her eye: 

Brew and eye htm much yonplea/e me f 
Words J f pent ^ 
SighesJ/ent, 

Sighes and words could neuer draw her. 
Oh my loue 
Thou art loji^ 

Since no fight could euer eafe thee, 

V^ccha/at 
By afount\ 

Sitting by afountjfpide her: 
Sweet her touch. 
Bare her voyce ; 

Touch and voice what may distaineyou t 
Asfiiefung, 
Ididfigh, 

And hyfighs whilft that Itride her. 
Oh mine eyes 
You did loofe 

Her firft fight who/e want didpaineyom. 

Y^o^aeAflocks 
White as woolly 

Yet were Fhoebes lochs more whiter, 
Fhoebes eyes 
Douelike mild, 

Douelike eyes both mild and crueU, 
Montan fweares 
In your lampes 

He will die for to delight her. 



340 APPENDIX 

Fhoebe yeeJd^ 
OrIdie\ 

Shall true hearts be fancies fuell t 

Montanus had no fooner ended his fonnet, but Condon with a lowe courtefie rofe 
vp and went with his fellow and Ihut their (heepe in the foldes : and after returning 
to Aliena and Ganimede, condu<fled them home wearie to his poore Cottage. By the 
way there was much good chat with Montanus about his loues ; he refoluing Aliena 
that Phoebe was the fairefl Shepherdice in all France, and that in his eye her beautie 
was equall with the Nimphs. But (quoth hee) as of all (lones the Diamond is mod 
cleered, and yet mod hard for the Lapidory to cut ; as of all flowers the Rofe is the 
faired, and yet guarded with the (harped prickles : fo of all our Countrey Lafles 
Phoebe is the brighted, but the mod coy of all to doope vnto defire. But let her take 
heede quoth he, I haue heard of Narcissus, who for his high difdaine againd Loue, 
perilhed in the follie of his owne loue. With this they were at Coridons cotage, 
where Montanus parted from them, and they went in to red. Alinda and Ganimede 
glad of fo contented a (helter, made merrie with the poore fwayne : and though they 
had but countrey fare and courfe lodging, yet their welcome was fo great, and their 
cares fo litle, that they counted their diet delicate, and flept as foundly as if they had 
been in the court of Torismond. The next mome they lay long in bed, as wearied 
with the toyle of vnaccudomed trauaile: but aflbone as they got vp, 
Aliena refolued there to fet vp her red, and by the helpe of Condon II, iv, 97 
fwept a barga ne with his Landdord, and fo became Midres of the farme 
& the flocke : her felfe putting on the attire of a diepheardefle, and Ganimede of a 
yong fwaine : euerie day leading foorth her flocks with fuch delight, that die held 
her exile happie, and thought no content to the blifle of a Countrey cottage. Leaning 
her thus famous amongd the diepheards of Ardetiy againe to Saladjme. 

When Saladyne had a long while concealed a fecret refolution of rcuenge, and 
could no longer hide Are in the flax, nor oyle in the flame ; (for enuie is like light- 
ning, that will appeare in the darked fogge). It chaunced on a morning verie early 
he calde vp certaine of his fcruaunts, and went with them to the chamber of Rosader, 
which being open, he entred with his crue, and furprifed his brother beeing a fleepe, 
and bound him in fetters, and in the midd of his hall chained him to a poad. Rosa- 
der amazed at this draunge chaunce, began to reafon with his brother about the caufe 
of this fodaine extremitie, wherein he had wrongd S and what fault he had committed 
worthie fo fliarpe a penaunce. Saladyne anfwered him onely with a looke of difdaine, 
& went his way, leauing poore Rosader in a deepe perplexitie. Who (thus abufed) 
fell into fundne paflions, but no meanes of releefe could be had : wherevpon (for 
anger) he grew into a difcontented melancholy. In which humour he continued two 
or three dayes without meate : infomuch, that feeing his brother would giue him no 
foode, he fell into defpaire of his life. Which yfdam Spencer the olde feruaunt of 
Sir lohn of Bourdeaux feeing, touched with the duetie and loue he ought to his olde 
Mader, felt a remorfe in his confcience of his fonnes mifhap : and therefore, although 
Saladyne had giuen a generall charge to his feruaunts, that none of them vppon paine 
of death (houlde giue either meate or drinke to Rosader, yet ^dam Spencer in the 
night arofe fecretely, and 'brought him fuch vi(5lualls as hee could prouide, and 
vnlockt him and fet him at libertie. After Rosader had well feaded himfelfe, and 
felt he was loofe, draight his thoughts aymed at reuenge, and now (all being a fleepe) 
hee woulde haue quit Saladyne with the methode of his owne mifchief. But ^dam 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 341 

Spencer perfwaded him to the contrarie, with thefe reafons ; Sir quoth he, be content, 
for this night go againe into your olde fetters, fo Ihall you trie the faith of friends, 
and faue the life of an olde feruant. To morrowe hath your brother inuited al your 
kindred and allyes to a folempne breakfail, onely to fee you, telling them all, that 
you are mad, & faine to be tied to a poail. Aflbne as they come, make complaint to 
them of the abufe profered you by Saladyne. If they redrelTe you, why fo : but if 
they paffe ouer your plaints ftcco pede^ and holde with the violence of your brother 
before your innocence, then thus : I will leaue you vnlockt that you may breake out 
at your pleafure, and at the ende of the hall (hall you fee Hand a couple of good pol- 
laxes, one for you, and another for me. When I giue you a wink, (hake off your 
chaynes, and let vs play the men, and make hauocke amongd them, driue them out 
of the houfe and maintaine poffefTion by force of armes, till the King hath made a 
redreffe of your abufes. Thefe wordes of ^dam Spencer fo perfwaded Rosader, that 
he went to the place of his punilhment, and flood there while the next morning. 
About the time appoynted, came all the guefls bidden by Saladyne, whom he 
intreated with courteous and curious intertainment, as they al perceiued their wel- 
come to be great. The tables in the hal where Rosader was tyed, were couered, and 
Saladyne bringing in his guefls together, (hewed them where his brother was boimd, 
and was inchainde as a man lunaticke. Rosader made replie, and with fome 
inuedliues made complaints of the wrongs proffered him by Saladyne, defiring they 
would in pitie feeke fome meanes for his reliefe. But in vaine, they had flopt their 
eares with Vlisses, that were his words neuer fo forceable, he breathed onely his 
pafTions into the winde. They careleffe, fat down with Saladyne to dinner, being 
verie frolicke and pleafant, wafhing their heads well with wine. At lad, when the 
fume of the grape had entred peale meale into their braines, they began in fat3rrical 
fpeaches to raile againfl Rosader : which Adam Spencer no longer brooking, gaue 
the figne, and Rosader (baking off his chaines got a poUax in his hand, and flew 
amongil them with fuch violence and fury, that he hurt manie, flew fome, and draue 
his brother and all the reft quite out of the houfe. Seeing the coail cleare, he fhut 
the doores, and being fore an hungred, and feeing fuch good vi(5luals, he fate him 
downe with Adam Spencer and fuch good fellows as he knew were honed men, and 
there feafled themfelucs with fuch prouifion as Saladyne had prepared for his frieds. 
After they had taken their repaft, Rosader rampierd vp the houfe, lead vpon a fodaine 
his brother fhould raife fome crue of his tenaunts, and furprife them vnawares. But 
Saladyne tooke a contrarie courfe, and went to the Sheriffe of the (hyre and made 
complaint of Rosader, who giuing credite to Saladyne, in a determined refolution to 
reuenge the Gentlemans wrongs, tooke with him fine and twentie txdl men, and made 
a vowe, either to breake into the houfe and take Rosader, or els to coope him in till 
he made him yeelde by famine. In this determination, gathering a crue together he 
went forward to fet Saladyne in his former edate. Newes of this was brought vnto 
Rosader, who fmiling at the cowardize of his brother, brookt all the iniuries of For- 
tune with patience, expecfling the comming of the Sheriffe. As he walkt vpon the 
battlements of the houfe, he defcryed where Saladyne and he drew neare, with a 
troupe of ludie gallants. At this he fmilde, and calde vp Adam Spencer, and (hewed 
him the enuious treacherie of his brother, and the folly of the Sheriffe to bee fo 
credulous : now Adam, quoth he, what (hall I doo 9 It r^ds for me, either to yeelde 
vp the houfe to my brother and feeke a reconcilement, or els iffue out, and breake 
through the companie with coiu^e, for coopt in like a coward I will not bee. If I 
fubmit (ah Adam) I difhonour my felfe, and that is worfe than death ; for by fuch 



342 APPENDIX 

open difgmces tbe fame of men giowes odious : if I ifTue out amongft them, fortune 
may fauour me, and I may efcape with life ; but fuppofe the woril : if I be flaine, 
then my death (hall be honourable to me, and fo inequall a reiKnge infamous to Sala- 
dyne. Why then Mafler forward and feare not, out amongil them, they bee but faint 
hearted lozells, and for Adam Spencer, if he die not at your foote, fay he is a daflard. 
Thefe words cheered vp fo the hart of yong Rosader, that he thought himfelfe fiif- 
ficient for them all, & therefore prepared weapons for him and Adam Spencer, and 
were readie to intertaine the Sheriffe : for no fooner came Saladyne and he to the 
gates, but Rosader vnlookt for leapt out and aflailed them, wounded manie of them, 
and caufed the reft to giue backe, fo that ^dam and hee broke through the preafe in 
defpite of them all, and tooke theyr way towards the forred of Arden. This repulfe 
fo fet the Sheriffes heart on fire to reuenge, that he llraight rayfed al the countrey, 
and made Hue and Crie after them. But Rosader and Adam knowing full well the 
fecrete wayes that led through the vineyards, ilole away priuely through the prouince 
of Bourde<mx,t & efcaped iafe to the forrefl of Arden. Being come thether, they were 
glad they had fo good a harbour : but Fortune (who is like the Camelion) variable 
with euerie obie<^, & conflant in nothing but inconfl&cie, thought to make them myr- 
rours of her mutabilitie, and therefore dill crofl them thus contrarily. Thinking dill 
to palTe on by the bywaies to get to Lions^ they chaunced on a path that led into the 
thicke of the forred, where they wandred fine or fixe dayes without meat, that they 
were almod famifhed, finding neither (hepheard nor cottage to relieue them: and 
hunger growing on fo extreame, Adam Spencer (being olde) began fird to faint, and 
fitting him downe on a hill, and looking about him, efpied where Rosader laye as 
feeble and as ill perplexed : which fight made him (hedde teares, and to fall into 

thefe bitter tearmes. Adam Spencers fpeach. Oh how the life of man 

may well be compared to the flate of the Ocean feas, that for euerie calme hath a 
thoufand dormes : refembling the Rofe tree, that for a few faire flowers, hath a mul- 
titude of fharpe prickles : all our pleafures ende in paine, and our highed delights, 
are croffed with deeped difcontents. The ioyes of man, as they are few, fo are they 
momentarie, fcarce ripe before they are rotten ; and wythering in the blofibme, either 
parched with the heate of enuie, or fortune. Fortune, oh incondant friend, that in 
all thy deedes are froward and fickle, delighting in the pouertie of the lowed, and 
the ouerthrow of the highed, to decypher thy incondancie. Thou dandd ypon a 
gloabe, and thy wings are plumed with times feathers, that thou maid euer be refl- 
lefle ; thou art double faced like lanus, carying frownes in the one to threaten, and 
fmiles in the other to betray ; thou proffered an Eele, and perfouimed a Scorpion ; 
and where thy greated fauours be, there is the feare of the extreamed mifTortunes ; 
fo variable are all thy a<5lions. But why Adam dood thou exclaime againd fortune ^ 
fhe laughs at the plaints of the didrefled ; and there is nothing more pleafing vnto 
her, than to heare fooles boad in her fading allurements, or forrowfuH men to dif- 
couer the fower of their paffions. Glut her not Adam then with content, but thwart 
her with brooking all mifhappes with patience. For there is no greater checke to the 
pride of fortune, than with a refolute courage to pafle ouer her croffes 
without care. Thou ait olde Adam, and thy haires wax white, the III, ii, 174 
Palme tree is alreadie full of bloomes, and in the furrowes of thy 
face appeares the Kalenders of death ? Wert thou blefled. by fortune thy yeares 
could not be manie, nor the date of thy life long : then f\th Nature mud haue her 
due, what is it for thee to refigne her debt a little before the day. Ah, it is not this 
which grieueth mee : nor doo I care what mifhaps Fortune can wage againd me : but 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 343 

the fight of Rosader, that galleth vnto the quicke. When I remember the woHhips 
of his houfe, the honour of his fathers, and the vertucs of himfelfe ; then doo I fay, 
that fortune and the fates are mod iniurious, to ccnfure fo hard extreames, againil a 
youth of fo great hope. Oh Rosader, thou art in the flower of thine age, and in the 
pride of thy yeares, buxfome and full of May. Nature hath prodigally inricht thee 
with her fauours, and vertue made thee the myrrour of her excellence : and now 
through the decree of the vniufl (larres, to haue all thefe good partes nipped in the 
blade, and blemilht by the inconilancie of Fortune. Ah Rosader, could I helpe 
thee, my griefe were the lefle, and happie (hould my death be, if it might be the 
beginning of thy reliefe : but feeing we perifh both in one extreame, it is a double 
forrowe. What (hall I do ^ preuent the fight of his further miffortune, with a prefent 
difpatch of mine owne life. Ah, defpaire is a mercileife finne. 

As he was readie to go forward in his paflion, he looked eameflly on Rosader, and 
feeing him change colour, he rife vp and went to him, and holding his temples, faide, 
Wliat cheere mafler ? though all faile, let not the heart faint : the courage of a man 
is (hewed in the refolution of his death. At thefe words Rosader lifted vp his eye, 
and looking on Adam Spencer began to weepe. Ah Adam quoth he, I forrowe not 
to die, but I grieue at the manner of my death. Might I with my launce encounter 
the encmie, and fo die in the field, it were honour, and content : might I (Adam) 
combat with fome wilde bead, and perifh as his pray, I wer fatiffied ; but to die with 
hunger, O Adam, it is the extrcamed of all extreames. Mader (quoth hee) you fee 
wee are both in one predicament, and long I cannot line without mcate, feeing there- 
fore we can fmd no foode, let the death of the one preferue the life of the other. I 
am olde, and ouerwome with age, you are young, and are the hope of many honours : 
let me then die, I will prefently cut my veynes, & mader with the warme bloud relieue 
your fainting fpirits : fucke on that till I ende, and you be comforted. With that 
yf dam Spencer was readie to pull out his knife, when Rosader full of courage (though 
verie faint) rofe vp, and wifht ^dam Spencer to (it there till his retoume : for my 
minde giues me quoth he, I (hall bring thee meate. With that, like a mad man he 
rofe vp, and ranged vp and downe the woods, feeking to encoimter fome wilde bead 
with his rapier, that either he might carrie his friend ^dam food, or els pledge his life 
in pawne of his loyaltie. It chaunced that day, that Gerismond the lawfull king of 
France banifhed by Torismond, who with a luflie crue of Outlawes liued in that for- 
ed, that day in honour of his Birth made a Fead to all his bolde yeomen, and frolickt 
it with dore of wine and venifon, fitting all at a long table vnder the fhadowe of 
lymon trees. To that place by chance Fortune condwfled Rosader, who feeing fuch 
a crue of braue men hauing flore of that, for want of which he and ^dam perifhed, 
he dept boldly to the boords end, and faluted the companie thus. 

Whatfoere thou bee that art mader of thefe ludie fquiers, I falute thee as gra- 
cioufly, as a man in extreame didrefTe may ; knowe that I and a fellow friend of mine, 
are heere famifhed in the forred for want of foode : perifh we mud vnlefTe relieued 
by thy fauours. Therefore if thou be a Gentleman, giue meate to men, and to fuch 
men as are euerie way worthie of life ; let the prouded fquire that fittes at thy table, 
rife & incounter with me in anie honourable point of actiuitie what foeuer, and if he 
and thou proue me not a man, fend me a way comfortleffe. If thou refufe this, as a 
niggard of thy cates, I will haue amongd you with my fword ; for rather will I die 
valiantly, than perifh with fo cowardly an extreame. Gerismond looking him earn- 
cdly in the face, and feeing fo proper a Gentleman in fo bitter a pafTion, was mooued 
with fo great pitie ; that rifmg from the table, he tooke him by the hand and bad him 



344 APPENDIX 

welcome, willing him to fit downe in bis place, and in his roome not onely to eate his 
fill, but be Lord of the feafl. Gramercie fir (quoth Rosader) but I haue a feeble 
fiiend that lies heereby famiOied almod for food, aged and therfore leffe able to abide 
the extremitie of hunger than my felfe, and dilhonour it were for me to tade one crum, 
before I made him partner of my fortunes : therefore I will runne and fetch him, and 
then I will gratefully accept of your proffer. Away hies Rosader to yf dam Spencer, 
and tells him the newes, who was glad of fo happie fortune, but fo feeble he was that 
bee could not goe : whereupon Rosader got him vp on his backe, and brought him to 
the place. Which when Gerismond & his men faw, they greatly applauded their 
league of friendfhip ; and Rosader hauing Gerismonds place affigned him, would not 
fit there himfelfe, but fet downe Adam Spencer. Well to be fliort, thofe hungrie 
fquires fell to their vi(flualls, and feailed themfelues with good delicates, and great 
(lore of wine. Aflbone as they had taken their repafl, Gerismond (defirous to heare 
what hard fortune draue them into thofe bitter extreames) requeded Rosader to dif- 
coiufe, (if it wer not anie way preiudiciall vnto him) the caufe of his trauell. Rosa- 
der (defirous anie way to fatiffie the courtefie of his fauourable hod, (fird beginning 
his exordium with a volley of fighes, and a few luke warme teares) profecuted his 
difcoiufe, & told him frO point to point all his fortunes ; how he was the yonged Sonne 
of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux^ his name Rosader, how his brother fundrie times had 
wronged him, and ladly, how for beating the Sheriffe, and hurting his men, he fled ; 
and this olde man (quoth he) whome I fo much loue and honour, is fumamed Adam 
Spencer, an old feruant of my fathers, and one (that for his loue) neuer fayled me in 
all my midbrtunes. When Gerismond hearde this, bee fell on the necke of Rosader, 
and next difcourfmg vnto him, how he was Gerismond their lawfuU King exiled by 
Torismond, what familiaritie had euer been betwixt his father Sir lohn of Bourdeaux 
and him, how faithful a fubie<fl he lined, and how honourable he died ; promifing (for 
his fake) to giue both him and his friend fuch courteous intertainment, as his prefent 
edate could minider : and vpon this made him one of his forreders. Rosader feeing 
it was the King, craude pardon for his boldneffe, in that he did not doo him due reu- 
erence, and humbly gaue him thankes for his fauourable courtefie. Gerismond not 
fatiffied yet with newes, began to enquire if he had been lately in the court of Toris- 
mond, and whether he had feene his daughter Rosalynde, or no 9 At this, Rosader 
fetcht a deep figh, and fhedding manie teares, could not anfwere : yet at lad, gather- 
ing his fpirites together, bee reuealed vnto the King, how Rosalynde was baniihed, 
and how there was fuch a fimpathie of affe<flions betweene Alinda and her, that diee 
chofe rather to be partaker of her exile, than to part fellowfliippe : whereupon the 
vnnaturall King banifhed them both; and now they are wandred none knowes 
whether, neither could anie leame fince their departure, the place of their abode. 
This newes driue the King into a great melancholy, that prefently he arofe from all 
the companie, and went into his priuie chamber, fo fecret as the harbor of the woods 
would allow him. The companie was all da(ht at thefe tidings, & Rosader and Adam 
Spencer hauing fuch opportunitie, went to take their red. Where we leaue them, 
and retume againe to Torismond. 

The flight of Rosader came to the eares of Torismond, who hearing that Saladyne 
was fole heire of the landes of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux^ defirous to poffefle fuch faire 
reuenewes, found iud occafion to quarrell with Saladyne, about the wrongs hee prof&ed 
to his brother : and therefore difpatching a Herehault, he fent for Saladyne in all poad 
had. Who meniailing what the matter diould be, began to examine his owne con- 
fdence, wherein he had offended his Highneffe : but imboldened with his innocence. 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 345 

hee boldly went with the Herehault vnto the Court. Where aflbone as bee came, bee 
was not admitted into the prefence of the King, but prefently fent to prifon. This 
greatly amazed Saladyne, chiefly in that the layler had a (Iraight charge ouer him, to 
fee that he (hould be clofe prifoner. Manie pafTionate thoughts came in his head, till 
at lail he began to fall into confideration of his former follies, & to meditate with him- 
felfe. Leaning his head on his hand, and his elbowe on his knee, full of forrow, 
griefe and difquieted paflions, he refolued into thefe tearmes. S aladynes com- 
plaint. Unhappie Saladyne, whome folly hath led to thefe miffortunes, and 

wanton defires wrapt within the laborinth of thefe calamities. Are not the heauens 
doomers of mens deedes 9 And holdes not God a ballaunce in his fifl, to reward 
with fauour, and reuenge with iuflice ? Oh Saladyne, the faults of thy youth, as 
they were fond, fo were they foule ; and not onely difcouering little 
nourture, but blemifhing the excellence of nature. Whelpes of one II, vii, zoa 
lytter are euer mod louing, and brothers that are fonnes of one father, 
(hould Hue in friendlhip without iarre. Oh Salad3me, fo it (hould bee : but thou hafl 
with the deere fedde againil the winde, with the Crab llroue againft the ftreame, and 
fought to peruert Nature by vnkindnefle. Rosaders wrongs, the wrongs of Rosader 
(Saladyne) cries for reuenge, his youth pleades to God to infli<fl forae penaunce vpon 
thee, his vertues are pleas that inforce writs of difpleafure to crofTe thee : thou hafl 
highly abufed thy kinde & naturall brother, and the heauens cannot fpare to quite 
thee with punifhment. There is no fling to the worme of confcience, no hell to a 
minde toucht with guilt. Euerie wrong I offered him (called now to remembrance) 
wringeth a drop of bloud from my heart, euerie bad looke, euerie frowne pincheth me 
at the quicke, and fayes Saladyne thou hafl fmd againfl Rosader. Be penitent, and 
afTigne thy felfe fome penaunce to difcouer thy forrow, and pacifie his wrath. 

In the depth of his paillon, he was fent for to the King : who with a looke that 
threatned death entertained him, and demaunded of him where his brother was? 
Saladyne made aunfwere, that vpon fome ryot made againfl the Sheriffe of the fhyre, 
he was fled from Bourdeaux, but he knew not whether. Nay villain (quoth he) I 
haue heard of the wrongs thou hafl proffered thy brother fmce the death of thy father, 
and by thy meanes haue I lofl a mofl braue and refolute Cheualier. Therefore, in 
Iuflice to punifh thee, I fpare thy life for thy fathers fake, but banifh thee for euer 
from the Court and Countrey of France, and fee thy departere bee within tenne dayes, 
els trufl me thou fhalt loofe thy head, & with that the King flew away in a rage, and 
left poore Saladyne greatly perplexed. Who grieuing at his exile, yet determined to 
beare it with patience, and in penaunce of his former follies to trauell abroade in 
euerie Coail, till hee had founde out his Brother Rosader. With whom now I 
begin. 

Rosader beeing thus preferred to the place of a Forefler by Gerismond, rooted out 
the remembrance of his brothers vnkindnes by continual exercife, trauerfmg the 
groues and wilde Forrefls : partly to heare the melodie of the fwcete birdes which 
recorded, and partly to fhewe his diligent indeauour in his mailers behalfe. Yet 
whatfoeuer he did, or howfoeuer he walked, the liuely Image of Rosalynde remained 
in memorie : on her fweete perfe<5lions he fedde his thoughts, proouing himfelfe like 
the Eagle a true borne bird, fmce as the one is knowen by beholding the Sunne : fo 
was he by regarding excellent beautie. One day among the reft, finding a fit opor* 
tunitie and place conuenient, defirous to difcouer his woes to the woodes, hee engraued 
with his knife on the barke of a Myrtle tree, this pretie eftimate of his Miflres per- 
fe^on. 



346 APPENDIX 

Sonnetto. 

Of all ckast birdes the Phanix doth excell. 
Of alljlrong beasts the Lion beares the bell^ 
Of all fweete flowers the Rofe doth fweetest fmell^ 
Of all f aire maides my Rofal}'nde is fairest. 

Of all pure mettals golde is onely purest y 

Of all high trees the Pine hath highest crest , 

Of all foft fweetes J like my Mistres brest. 

Of all chast thoughts my Mistres thoughts are rarest. 

Of all proud birds the yEgle pleafeth loue. 
Of pretie fowles kinde Venus likes the Doue, 
Of trees Minenia doth the Oliue loue^ 
Of all fweete Nimphes I honour Rofalynde. 

Of all her gifts her wifedome pleafeth most^ 
Of all her graces vertuefhe doth boast : 
For all thefe giftes my life and ioy is lost. 
If Rofalynde proue cruell and vnkinde. 

In thefe and fuch like paflions, Rosader did euerie daye eternize the name of his 
RoBalynde : and this day efpeciallie when Aliena and Ganimede (inforced by the 
heate of the Sunne to feeke for (helter) by good fortune arriued in that place, where 
this amorous forreller regidred his melancholy pafTions ; they faw the fodaine change 
of his looks, his folded armes, his paffionate iighes ; they heard him often abruptly 
call on Rosalynde : who (poore foule) was as hotly burned as himfelfe, but that (he 
ihrouded her paines in the cinders of honorable modedie. Whereupon, (gefling him 
to be in loue, and according to the nature of their fexe, being pitifull in that behalfe) 
they fodainly brake off his melancholy by their approach : and Ganimede (hooke him 
out of his dumpes thus. 

What newes Forreller 9 hafl thou wounded fome deere, and lofl him 
in the fall 9 Care not man for fo fmall a lolTe, thy fees was but the f kinne, IV, H, za 
the (houlder, and the homes : tis hunters lucke, to ayme faire and mifle : 
and a woodmans fortune to (Irike and yet goe without the game. 

Thou art beyond the marke Ganimede, quoth Aliena, his paifions are greater, and 
his figbs difcouers more lofle ; perhaps in trauerfmg thefe thickets, he hath feen fome 
beautifull Nymph, and is growen amorous. It maye bee fo (quoth Ganimede) for 
heere he hath newly ingrauen fome fonnet : come and fee the difcourfe of the For- 
eflers poems. Reading the fonnet ouer, and hearing him name Rosalynd, Aliena 
k)okt on Ganimede and laught, and Ganimede looking backe on the Forreller, and 
feeing it was Rosader blulht, yet thinking to Ihroud all vnder hir pages apparell, (he 
boldly returned to Rosader, and began thus. 

I pray thee tell me Forreller, what is this Rosalynde, for whom thou pinell away 
in fuch paifions/- Is Ihee fome Nymph that waites vpon Dianaes traine, whofe 
challitie thou hall dec3rphred in fuch Epethites 9 Or is Ihee fome fiiepheardefle, that 
haunts thefe plaines, whofe beautie hath fo bewitched thy fancie, whofe name thoa 
fliaddowell in couert rnder the figure of Rosalynde, as Quid did lulia vnder the name 
of Corinna ? Or fay mee for footh, iy it that Rosalynde, of whome we Ihephearda 
haue heard talke, (hee Forreller, that is the Daughter of Gerismond, that once was 
King, and now an Outlaw in this Forrell of Arden. At this Rosader fetcht a deepe 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 347 

figb, and faid, It is (hee, O gentle fwayne» it is (he, that Saint it is whom I feme, that 
Goddefle at whofe Ihrine I doo bend all my deuotions : the moil faired of all faires, 
the Phenix of all that fexe, and the paritie of all earthly perfe(5Uon. And why (gen- 
tle Forreller) if (he bee fo beautifull and thou fo amorous, is there fuch a difagreement 
in thy thoughts ? Happely (he refembleth the rofe, that is fweete but full of prickles ? 
or the ferpent Regius that hath fcales as glorious as the Sunne, & a breath as infedlious 
as the Aconitutn is deadly? So thy Rosalynde, may be mod amiable, and yet 
vnldnde ; full of fauour, and yet froward : coy without wit, and difdainefull without 
reafon. 

O (hepheard (quoth Rosader) kneweft thou her perfonage graced with the excel- 
lence of all perfe<5Uon, beeing a harbour wherein the Graces (hroude their vertues : 
thou wouldd not breathe out fuch blafphemie againd the beauteous Rosalynde. She 
is a Diamond, bright but not hard, yet of mod chad operation : a pearle fo orient, that 
it can be dained with no blemKh : a rofe without prickles, and a Prince(re abfolute 
afwell in beautie, as in vertue. But I, vnhappie I, haue let mine eye foare with the 
Eagle againd fo bright a Sunne, that I am quite blinde ; I haue with Apollo enam- 
oured my felfe of a Daphne, not (as (hee) difdainfull, but farre more chad than 
Daphne ; I haue with Ixion laide my loue on luno, and (hall (I feare) embrace 
nought but a clowde. Ah (hepheard, I haue reacht at a dar, my defires haue moimted 
aboue my degree, & my thoughts aboue my fortunes. I being a peafant haue ventred 
to gaze on a Prince(re, whofe honors are too high to vouchfafe fuch bafe loues. 

Why Forreder (quoth Ganimede) comfort thy felfe : be blythe and frolicke man, 
Loue fowfeth as low as (he foareth high : Cupide (hootes at a ragge a(roone as at a 
roabe, and Venus eye that was fo curious fparkled fauor on pole footed Vulcan. 
Feare not man, womens lookes are not tied to dignities feathers, nor make they 
curious edeeme, where the done is found, but what is the vertue. Feare not For- 
reder, faint heart neuer wonne faire Ladie. But where Hues Rosalynde now, at the 
Coiut? 

Oh no (quoth Rosader) (he Hues I knowe not where, and that is my forrow ; ban- 
i(ht by Torismond, and that is my hell : for might I but find her facred perfonage, & 
plead before the barre of her pitie the plaint of my pa(rions, hope tells mee (hee would 
grace me with fome fauour; and that woulde fufBce as a recompence of all my former 
miferies. Much haue I heard of thy Midres excellence, and I know Forreder thou 
cand defcribe her at the full, as one that had furuayd all her parts with a curious eye : 
then doo me that fauour, to tell mee what her perfe<5tions bee. That I will (quoth 
Rosader) for I glorie to make all eares wonder at my Midres excellence. And with 
that he pulde a paper forth his bofome, wherein he read this. 

Rofalyndes defcription. 

Like to the cleere in highest /pheare 
Where ail imperiall glorie Jhines^ 
Of felfe fame colour is her haire 
Whether vnfolded or in ttoines : 

Heigh ho faire Rofalynde. 
Her eyes are Saphiresfet infnow^ 
Refining hectuen by euerie winhe; 
The Gods doo feare when as they ghw^ 
And I doo tremble when Ithinke, 

Heigh hOt would Jke were mini^ 



348 APPENDIX 

Her cheekes are like the blujhing clowde 
That beautefies K\XKin>it& face^ 
Or like the/liner crimfon Jhrawde 
That Y)ioih\i& /miling lookes doth grace : 

Heigh ho^faire Rofalynde. 
Her lippes are like two budded ro/es^ 

Whom rankes of lillies neighbour nie^ III, ii, 97 

Within which bounds Jhe balme inclo/es^ 
Apt to intice a Deitie : 

Heigh ho, would Jhe were mine. 

Her necke like to ajlately towre. 
Where Loue him/elf e impri/oned lies^ 
To watch for glaunces euerie howre, 
From her deuine and f acred eyes. 

Heigh ho, f aire Rofalynde. 
Her pappes are centers of delight. 
Her pappes are orbes of heauenlie frame. 
Where Nature moldes the deaw of light. 
To feede perfeiflion with the fame : 

Heigh ho, would Jhe were mine. 

With orient pear le, with rubie red. 
With marble white, withfaphire blew. 
Her bodie euerie way is fed; 
Yet f oft in touch, andfweete in view : 

Heigh ho, f aire Rofalynde. 
Nature her felfe herfhape admires. 
The Gods are wounded in her fight. 
And Loueforfakes his heauenly fires. 
And at her eyes his brand doth light : 

Heigh ho, would fhe were mine. 

Then mufe not Nymphes though I bemoane 

The abfence of f aire Rofalynde : 

Since for herfaire there is fairer none, * ^ ^ 

Nor for her vertuesfo deuine. 

Heigh ho f aire Rofalynde : 
Heigh ho my heart, would God thcUfhe were mine, 

Perijt, quia deperibat 

Beleeue me (quoth Ganimede) either the Forrefler is an exquifite painter, or Rosa* 
lynde faire aboue wonder : fo it makes me blufli, to heare bow women Ihould be fo 
excellent, and pages fo ynperfe(5l. 

Rosader beholding her eamedly, anfwered thus. Truly (gentle page) thou haft 
caufe to complaine thee, wert thou the fubilance : but refembling the (hadow, content 
thy felfe : for it is excellence inough to be like the excellence of Nature. He hath 
aunfwered you Ganimede (quoth Aliena) it is inough for pages to waite on beautifull 
Ladies, & not to be beautifull themfelues. Oh Miflres (quoth Ganimede) holde you 
your peace, for you are partiall : Who knowes not, but that all women haue defire to 
tie fouereinto their peticoats, and afcribe beautle to themfelues, where if boyes might 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 349 

put on their gannents, perhaps they would prooue as comely ; if not as comely, it may 
be more curteous. But tell mee Forreiler, (and with that (hee tumde to Rosader) 
vnder whom maintained thou thy walke <i Gentle fwaine vnder the King of Outlawes 
faid he, the vnfortunate Gerismond: who hauing loft his kingdome, crowneth his 
thoughts with content, accompting it better to gouem among poore men in peace, than 
great men in daunger. But hafl thou not faid (he, (hauing fo melancholie oppor- 
tunities as this Forred affoordeth thee) written more Sonnets in commendations of thy 
Mifb%s ? I haue gentle Swayne quoth he, but they be not about me : to morrow by 
dawne of daye, if your ilockes feede in thefe padures, I will bring them you : wherein 
you (hall reade my pafdons, whiled I feele them ; iudge my patience when you read it : 
till when I bid farewell. So giuing both Ganimede and Aliena a gentle good night, 
he reforted to his lodge : leaning Aliena and Ganimede to their prittle prattle. So Gani- 
mede (faid Aliena, the Forreder beeing gone) you are mightely beloued, men make dit- 
ties in your praife, fpend fighes for your fake, make an Idoll of your beautie : beleeue 
me it greeues mee not a little, to fee the poore man fo penfiue, and you fo pittile(re. 

Ah Aliena (quoth (he) be not peremptorie in your iudgments, I heare Rosalynde 
praifde as I am Ganimede, but were I Rosalynde, I could anfwere the Forreder : If 
hee moume for loue, there are medicines for loue : Rosalynde cannot be faire and 
vnkinde. And fo Madame you fee it is time to folde our (lockes, or els Coridon will 
fix)wne, and fay you will neuer prooue good hufwife. With that they put their Sheepe 
into the coates, and went home to her friend Coridons cottage, Aliena as merrie as 
might be, that (he was thus in the companie of her Rosalynde : but (hee poore foule, 
that had Loue her load darre, and her thoughts fet on (ire with the (lame of fancie, 
coulde take no red, but being alone beganne to confider what pa(rionate penaunce 
poore Rosader was enioyned to by loue and fortune : that at lad (he fell into this 

humour with her felfe. R ofalynde pafsionate alon e,. Ah Rosalynde, 

how the Fates haue fet downe in their Synode to make thee vnhappie : for when 
Fortune hath done her word, then Loue comes in to begin a new tragedie ; (hee feekes 
to lodge her fonne in thine eyes, and to kindle her fires in thy bofome. Beware fonde 
girle, he is an vnruly gued to harboiu* ; for cutting in by intreats he will not be thrud 
out by force, and her lires are fed with fuch fuell, as no water is able to quench. 
Seed thou not how Venus feekes to wrap thee in her Laborynth, wherein is pleafure 
at the entrance, but within, forrowes, cares, and difcontent : (he is a Syren, (lop thine 
cares at her melodie ; and a Bafilifcke, (hut thine e3res, and gaze not at her lead thou 
peri(h. Thou art nowe placed in the Countrey content, where are heauenly thoughts, 
and meane defires : in thofe Lawnes where thy (lockes feede Diana haunts : bee as 
her Nymphes, chade, and enemie to Loue : for there is no greater honour to a Maide, 
than to accompt of fancie, as a mortall foe to their fexe. Daphne that bonny wench 
was not toumed into a Bay tree, as the Poets faine : but for her chaditie her fame was 
immortall, refembling the Lawrell that is euer greene. Follow thou her deps Rosa- 
lynde, and the rather, for that thou art an exile, and bani(hed (rom the Coiut : whofe 
didre(re, as it is appeafed with patience, fo it woulde bee renewed with amorous paf- 
fions. Haue minde on thy forepa(red fortunes, feare the word, and intangle not thy 
felfe with prefent fancies : lead louing in had thou repent thee at leafure. Ah but 
yet Rosalynde, it is Rosader that courts thee ; one, who as hee is beautifuU, fo he is 
vertuous, and harboureth in his minde as manie good qualities, as his face is (hadowed 
with gracious fauours : and therefore Rosalynde doope to Loue, lead beeing either too 
coy, or too cruell, Venus waxe wrothe, and plague thee with the reward of difdaine. 

Rosalynde thus paflionate, was wakened from her dumpes by Aliena, who faide it 



350 APPENDIX 

was time to goe to bedde. Condon fwore that was true, for Charles Wayne was rifen 
in the North. Whereuppon each taking leaue of other, went to their red all, but the 
poore Rosalynde : who was fo full of pafTions, that ihee coulde not poiTefTe anie con- 
tent. Well, leaning her to her Ixoken flumbeis, expe<5l what was perfourmed by them 
the nexte morning. 

The Sunne was no fooner flept from the bed of Aurora, but Aliena was wakened 
by Ganimede : who refllefTe all night had tofied in her paflions : faying it was then 
time to goe to the field to vnfold their fheepe. Aliena (that fpied where the hare was 
by the hounds, and could fee day at a little hole) thought to be pleafant with her 
Ganimede, & therfore replied thus ; What wanton ? the Sun is but new vp, & as yet 
Iris riches lies folded in the bofome of Flora, Phoebus hath not dried vp the pearled 
deaw, & fo long Coridon hath taught me, it is not fit to lead the (heepe abroad : leafl 
the deaw being vnwholefome, they get the rot : but now fee I the old prouerbe true, 
he is in hafl whom the diuel driues, & where loue prickes forward, there is no worfe 
death than delay. Ah my good page, is there fancie in thine eie, and pafTions in thy 
heart 9 What, had thou wrapt loue in thy looks 9 and fet all thy thoughts on fire by 
affe(5Uon ^ I tell thee, it is a flame as hard to be quencht as that of aetna. But 
nature mud haue her courfe, womens eyes haue facultie attnuftiue like the ieat, and 
retentiue like the diamond : they dallie in the delight of faire obie<fls, til gazing on 
the Panthers beautifiill fkinne, repenting experience tell them hee hath a deuouring 
paunch. Come on (quoth Ganimede) this fermon of yours is but a fubtiltie to lie dill 
a bed, becaufe either you thinke the morning colde, or els I being gone, you would 
deale a nappe : this (hide carries no paulme, and therefore vp and away. And "for 
Loue let me alone. He whip him away with nettles, and fet difdaine as a charme to 
withdand his forces : and therefore looke you to your felfe, be not too bolde, for 
Venus can make you bend ; nor too coy, for Cupid hath a piercing dart, that will 
make you crie Peccaui. And that is it (quoth Aliena) that hath rayfed you fo early 
this morning. And with that (he (lipt on her peticoate, and dart vp : and affoone as 
(he had made her readie, and taken her breakfad, away goe thefe two with their 
bagge and bottles to the field, in more pleafant content of mind, than euer they were 
in the Court of Torismond. They came no fooner nigh the foldes, but they might 
fee where their difcontented Forreder was walking in his melancholy. AfToone as 
Aliena faw him, (he fmiled, and fayd to Ganimede ; wipe your eyes fweeting : for 
yonder is your fweet hart this morning in deepe praiers no doubt to Venus, that (he 
may make you as pitifull as hee is paflionate. Come on Ganimede, I pray thee lets 
haue a little fport with him. Content (quoth Ganimede) and with that, to waken 
him out of his deepe memento^ he began thus. 

Forreder, good fortune to thy thoughts, and eafe to thy pallions, what makes you 
(b early abroad this mome, in cOtemplation, no doubt of your Rosalynde. Take 
heede Foreder, dep not too farre, the foord may be deepe, and you (lip ouer the 
(hooes ; I tell thee, flies haue their fpleene, the ants choller, the lead haires (hadowes, 
& the fmalled loues great defires. Tis good (Forreder) to loue, but not to ouerloue : 
lead in louing her that likes not thee, thou folde thy felfe in an endle(re Laborynth. 
Rosader feeing the fayre (hephearde(re and her pretie fwayne, in whofe companie he 
hee felt the greated eafe of his care, he returned them a falute on this manner. 

Gentle (hepheards, all haile, and as healthfull bee your flockes, as you happie m 
content. Loue is redlelTe, and my bedde is but the cell of my bane, in that there I 
finde bufie thoughtes and broken (lumbers : heere (although euerie where paflfionate) 
yet I brooke loue with more patience, in that euerie obie<5l feedes mine eye with 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 351 

▼arietie of fancies ; when I looke on Floraes beauteous tapefbie, checkered with the 
pride of all her treafure, I call to minde the fayre face of Rosalynde, whofe heauenly 
hiew exceedes the Rofe and the Lilly in their highefl excellence ; the brightnefle of 
Phoebus (hine, puts me in minde to thinke of the fparkling flames that flew from her 
eies, and fet my heart fiHl on fire; the fweet harmonic of the birds, puts me in 
remembrance of the rare melodic of her voyce, which like the Syren enchaunteth the 
cares of the hearer. Thus in contemplation I falue my forrowes, with applying the 
perfe<5lion of euerie obie(fl to the excellence of her qualities. 

She is much beholding vnto 3rou (quoth Aliena) and fo much, that I haue oft 
wifht with my felfe, that if I (hould euer prooue as amorous as Oenone, I might flnde 
as faith full a Paris as your felfe. 

How fay you by this Item Forefler, (quoth Ganimede) the faire fhepheardefle 
fauours you, who is miflrefle of fo manie flockes. Leaue of man the fuppofition of 
Rosalynds loue, when as watching at her, you roue beyond the Moone ; and cafl 
your lookes vpon my Miflres, who no doubt is as faire though not fo royall ; one birde 
in the hande is woorth two in the wood ; better poflefTe the loue of Aliena, than catch 
friuououfly at the (hadow of Rosalynde. 

lie tell thee boy (quoth Ganimede) fo is my fancie fixed on my Rosalynde, that 

were thy Midres as faire as Lseda or Danae, whome loue courted in tranfTormed 

fhapes, mine eyes would not vouch to intertaine their beauties :' and fo hath Loue 

lockt mee in her perfe<5Uons, that I had rather onely contemplate in her beauties, 

than abfolutely polTefle the excellence of anie other. Venus is too blame (Forrefler) 

if hauing fo true a feruant of you, (he reward you not with Rosalynde, if Rosalynde 

were more fairer than her felfe. But leaning this prattle, nowe He put you in minde 

of your promife, about thofe fonnets which you faide were at home in your lodge. I 

haue them about me (quoth Rosader) let vs fit downe, and then you (hall heare what 

a Poeticall furie Loue will infufe into a man: with that they fate downe vpon a 

greene bank, fhadowed with figge trees, and Rosader, fetching a deepe figh read 

them this Sonnet. 

Rofaders Sonnet. 

Inforrmves cell I laid me downe tojleepe : 

But waking woes were iealous of mine eyes. 

They made them watch ^ and bend themselues to weepe : 

But weeping teares their want could notfuffi.ce : II, iv, 53 

Yetfincefor her they wept who guides my harty 

They weeping f mile y and triumph in their f mart. 

Of thefe my teares a fountaine fiercely fprings. 

Where Venus baynes her felfe incenst with laue\ 

Where Cupid bowfeth his faire feathred wings , 

But I behold whcU paines I mufl approue. 

Care drinkes it drie : but when on her J thinke^ 
Loue makes me weepe it full vnto the brinke, 

Meane while my fighes yeeld truce vnto my teares^ 
By them the windes increast and fiercely blow : 
Yet when J figh the flame more plaint appeares^ 
And by their force with greater power doth glow : 

Amids thefe paineSy all Phoenix like I thriue^ 
Since Loue that yeelds me deaths may life reuiue» 

Rofader en efperance. 



352 APPENDIX 

Now furely Forreiler (quoth Aliena) when thou madefl this fonnet, thou wert in 
fome amorous quandarie, neither too fearfully as defpairing of thy Miflres fauours : 
nor too gleefome, as hoping in thy fortunes. I can fmile (quoth Ganimede) at the 
Sonettoes, Canzones, Madrigales, rounds and roundelayes, that thefe penfiue patients 
powre out, when their eyes are more ful of wantonneffe, than their hearts of palTions. 
Then, as the fifliers put the fweetefl baite to the faireft fifli : fo thefe Ouidians (hold- 
ing Amo in their tongues, when their thoughtes come at hap hazarde, write that they 
be wrapt in an endlefle laborynth of forrow, when walking in the large leas of lib- 
ertie, they onely haue their humours in their inckpot. If they finde women fo fond, 
that they will with fuch painted lures come to theyr lud, then they triumph till they 
be full gorgde with pleafures : and then fly they away (like ramage kytes) to their 
owne content, leaning the tame foole their Miflres full of fancie, yet without euer a 
feather. If they mifle (as dealing with fome wary wanton, that wats not fuch a one 
as themfelues, but fpies their fubtiltie) they ende their amors with a few fained fighes : 
and fo there excufe is, their Miflres is cruell, and they fmoother pafTions with patience. 
Such gentle Forrefler we may deeme you to bee, that rather palTe away the time heere 
in thefe Woods with writing amorets, than to bee deepely enamoured (as you faye) of 
your Rosalynde. If you bee fuch a one, then I pray God, when you thinke your for- 
tunes at the highefl, and your defires to bee mod excellent, then that you may with 
Ixion embrace luno in a clowde, and haue nothing but a marble Miflres to releafe 
your martyrdome : but if you be true and truflie, eypaind and hart ficke, then accurfed 
bee Rosalynde if (hee prooue cruell : for Forrefter (I flatter not) thou art woorthie of 
as faire as fhee. Aliena fpying the ilorme by the winde, fmiled to fee how Ganimedo 
flew to the flfl without anie call : but Rosader who tooke him flat for a fhepheardi 
Swayne made him this anfwere. 

Trufl me Swayne (quoth Rosader) but my Canzon was written in no fuch humour t 
for mine eye & my heart are relatiues, the one drawing fancie by fight, the other enter- 
taining her by forrowe. If thou fawefl my Rosalynde, with what beauties Nature 
hath fauotu-ed her, with what perfe(5lion the heauens hath graced her, with what quali- 
ties the Gods haue endued her ; then wouldfl thou fay, there is none fo fickle that 
could be fleeting vnto her. If (he had ben Aeneas Dido, had Venus and luno both 
fcolded him from Carthage^ yet her excellence defpite of them, woulde haue detained 
him at Tyre. If Phil lis had been as beauteous, or Ariadne as vertuous, or both as 
honourable and excellent as (he ; neither had the Fhilbert tree forrowed in the death 
of defpairing Phillis, nor the (larres haue been graced with Ariadne : but Demophoon 
and Theseus had been truflie to their Paragons. I will tell thee Swaine, if with a 
deepe infight thou couldfl pearce into the fecrete of my loues, and fee what deepe 
impreffions of her Idea affe<5lion hath made in my heart : then wouldd thou confefTe 
I were pafTmg palTionate, and no lefTe indued with admirable patience. Why (quoth 
Aliena) needes there patience in Loue ? Or els in nothing (quoth Rosader) for it is 
a reflleffe foare, that hath no eafe, a cankar that flill frets, a difeafe that taketh awaie 
all hope of fleepe. If then fo manie forrowes, fodain ioies, momentarie pleafures, 
continuall feares, daylie griefes, and nightly woes be found in Loue, then is not he to 
be accompted patient, that fmoothers all thefe pafTions with filence ? Thou fpeakeft 
by experience (quoth Ganimede) and therefore wee holde all thy words for Axiomes : 
but is Loue fuch a lingring maladie ? It is (quoth he) either extreame or meane, 
according to the minde of the partie that entertaines it : for as the weedes growe 
longer vntouchte than the pretie flowers, and the flint lies fafe in the quarrie, when 
the Emeraulde is fuffering the Lapidaries toole : fo meane men are freeed from Venus 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 353 

iniuries, when kings are enu3rroned with a laborynth of her cares. The whiter the 
Lawne is, the deeper is the moale, the more purer the chryfolite the fooner flained ; 
and fuch as haue their hearts fill of honour, haue their loues full of the greatefl for- 
rowes. But in whomfoeuer (quoth Rosader) he fixeth his dart, hee neuer leaueth to 
affault him, till either hee hath wonne him to follie or fancie : for as the Moone neuer 
goes without the (larre Lunisequa, fo a Louer neuer goeth without the vnrefl of his 
thoughts. For proofs you (hall heare another fancie of my making. Now doo gentle 
Forreller (quoth Ganimede) and with that he read ouer this Sonetto, 

Rofaders fecond Sonetto. 
Turm I my lookes vnto the Skies ^ 
Loue with his arrowes wounds mine eies : 
Jf fo I ga%e vpon the ground^ 
Loue then in euerie flower is found. 
Search J the fhade toflie my paine^ 
He meetes me in the fhade againe : 
Wend J to walke in fecrete grotie, 
Euen there I meete with f acred Loue, 
Jf fo I bayne me in the fpring^ 
Euen on the brinke I heare himfmg: 
Jf fo I meditate alone^ 
lie will be partner of my moane, 
Jf fo I moume, he weepes with mee. 
And where I am, there will he bee. 
When as I talke of Rofalynde, 
The God from coyneffe waxeth kinde, 
Andfeemes in f elf e fame flames tofrie, 
Becaufe he loues as well as /. 
Sweete Ko{a]ynde for pitie rue. 
For why, then Loue I am more true : 
He if he fpeede will quicklieflie. 
But in thy loue I Hue and die. 

How like you this Sonnet, quoth Rosader ? Marrie quoth Ganimede, for the pennA 
well, for the paflion ill : for as I praife the one ; I pitie the other, in that thou fhould- 
e(l himt after a clowde, and loue either without rewarde or regarde. Tis not her 
frowardnefle, quoth Rosader, but my hard fortunes, whofe Deilenies haue crofl me 
with her abfence : for did (hee feele my loues, (he would not let me linger in thefe 
forrowes. Women, as they are faire, fo they refpedl faith, and edimate more (if they 
be honourable) the wil than the wealth, hauing loyaltie the obie<5l whereat they ayme 
their fancies. But leaning off thefe interparleyes, you (hall heare my laft Sonnetto, 
and then you haue heard all my Poetrie: and with that he (ight out this. 

Rofaders third Sonnet 
Of vertuous Loue my felfe may boast alone. 
Since nofuspe^ my feruice may attaint: 

For perfedl faire fhee is the onely one. III, ii, 93 

Whom I esteemefor my beloued Saint: 

Thus for my faith J onely beare the bell. 
And for her faire fhe onely doth excell, 
23 



354 APPENDIX 

Then let fond VtSxzxf^ Jhrcwde his Lawraes prai/e^ 

And Taflb ceafe to publijh his affe^ \ 

Since mine the faith confirmde at all ajfaiesy 

And hers the fair e^ which all men doo respeifl : III, ii, 93 

My lines her f aire ^ her f aire my faith affures\ 

Thus J by Loue^ and Loue by me endures. 

Thus quoth Rosader, heere is an ende of my Poems, but for all this no releafe of • 
my paflions : fo that I refemble him, that in the deapth of his diflreffe hath none but 
the Eccho to aunfwere him. Ganimede pittying her Rosader, thinking to driue him 
out of this amorous melancholic, faid, that now the Sunne was in his Meridionall heat, 
and that it was high noone, therefore we (hepheards fay, tis time to goe to dinner : for 
the Sunne and our flomackes, are Shepheards dialls. Therefore For- 
reiler, if thou wilt take fuch fare as comes out of our homely fcrippes. III, ii, i6z 
welcome (hall aunfwere whatfoeuer thou wantft in delicates. Aliena 
tooke the entertainment by the ende, and told Rosader he (hould be her gued. He 
thankt them heartely, and fate with them downe to dinner : where they had fuch cates 
as Countrey flate did allow them, fawd with fuch content, and fuch fweete prattle, as 
it fcemed farre more fweete, than all their G)urtly iunckets. 

Aflbone as they had taken their repad, Rosader giuing them thankes for his good 
cheere, would haue been gone : but Ganimede, that was loath to let him pafle out of 
her prefence, began thus ; Nay Forrefter quoth he, if thy bufmes be not the greater, 
feeing thou faid thou art fo deeply in loue, let me fee how thou cand wooe : I will 
reprefent Rosalynde, and thou (halt bee as thou art Rosader ; fee in fome amorous 
Eglogue, how if Rosalynde were prefent, how thou couldd court her : and while we 
fmg of Loue, Aliena Ihall tune her pipe, and playe vs melodie. G)ntent, quoth Rosa- 
der. And Aliena, Ihee to (hew her willingnefle, drewe foorth a recorder, and began 
to winde it Then the louing Forreder began thus. 

The wooing Eglogue betwixt Rofalynde and Rofader. 

Rofader. 
J pray thee Nymph by all the working words^ 
By all the teares andfighes that Loners know^ 
Or what or thoughts or faltring tongue affords^ 
J craue for mine in ripping vp my woe, 
Sweete Rofalynde my loue {would God my loue) 
My life {would God my life) ay pitie me ; 
Thy lips are kindCy and humble like the doue. 
And but with beautie pitie will not be. 
Looke on mine eyes made red with rufull teares^ 
From whence the raine of true remorfe defcendeth^ 
All pale in lookes, and J though young in yeares^ 
And nought but loue or death my dales befrendeth. 
Oh let noflormie rigour knit thy browes. 
Which Loue appointed for his mercie feate : 
The tallest tree by Boreas breath it boioeSy 
The yron yeelds with hammer ^ and to heate. 

Oh Rofalynde then be thou pittifuU, 

For Rofalynde is onely beautifuU, 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 555 

Rofalynde. 
Lotus wantons arme their trattrous futes with tearts^ 
With voweSf with ocUhes^ with tookes, withjhowers of golden 
But when thefruite of their affetfls appeares, 
Thefimple heart by fubtill fleights isfolde. 
Thus fuckes the yeelding eare the poyfoned bait^ , 

Thnsfeedes the hart vpon his endJefse harmes. 
Thus glut the thoughts themfelues onfelfe deceipt. 
Thus b/inde the eyes their fight by fubtill charmes. 
The huely loohes, thefighs that florme fo fore^ 
The deaw of deepe diffembled doubleneffe : 
Thefe may attempt^ but are of power no more. 
Where Uautie leanes to wit and foothfastneffe. 

Oh Rofader then be thou wUtifull, 

For VjoiaXyn^t f comes foolifh pitifitll, 

Rofader. 
J pray thee Rofalynde by thofefweete eyes 
Thatflaine the Sunne infhine, the mome in eleare\ 
By thofefweete cheekes where Loue incamped lies 
To kifse the rofes of the fpringing year e, 
J tempt thee Rofalynde by ruthfull plaints ^ 
Notfeafoned with deceipt or fraudfull guile ^ 
Butfirme in paine^ farre more than tongue dipaints^ 
Sweete Nymph be kinde^ and grace me with a f mile. 
So may the heauens preferue from hurtfuUfood 
Thy harmeleffeflockes^fo may the Summer yeeld 
The pride of all her riches and her good^ 
To fat thyfheepe {the Citizens of field). 
Oh leaue to arme thy louely browes with f come : 
The birds their beake, the Lion hath his taile^ 
And Louers nought butfighes and bitter mourm^ 
The fpotleffe fort of faneie to aJTaile. 

Oh Rofalynde then be thou pitifull : 

For Rofalynde tr cnely beautifitll, 

Rofalynde. 
The kardnedfieele by fire is brought in frame : 

Rofader. 
And Rofalynde my loue than anie wooll more fofier\ 
Andfhall notfighes her lender heart in/lame f 

Rofaljmde. 
Were Louers true, maides would beleeue them ofter, 

Rofader. 
Truth and regard^ and honour guide wty Unu^ 

Rofalynde. 
Faine would I trusty kut yet I dare mot trig. 

Rofader. 
Oh pitie mefweete Nymph^ and doo btUprmm. 



356 APPENDIX 

Rofalynde. 
I would re/lsty but yet I know not why. 

Rofader. 
Oh Rofalynde be kinder/or times will change^ 
Thy lookes ay nill be f aire as now they be^ 
• Thine age from beautie may thy lookes eftrangt: 
Ah yeelde in timefweete Nymph^ and pitie me, 

Rofalynde. 
Oh Rofalynde thou must be pitifull. 
For Rofader is yong and beauti/ull, 

Rofader. 
Oh gaine more great than kingdomes, or a crarwtu^ 

Rofalynde. 
Oh trust betraid if Rofader abufe me, 

Rofader. 
First let the heauens conspire to pull me downe^ 
And heauen and earth as abiedl quite refu/e me. 
Let forrowes ftreame about my hatefull bower ^ 
And restlejfe horror hatch ttrithin my breast. 
Let beauties eye affii/l me with a lowre^ 
Let deepe despaire pur/ue me without rest; 
Ere Rofalynde my loyaltie disproue. 
Ere Rofalynde accu/e me for vnkinde, 

Rofalynde. 
Then Rofalynde will grace thee with her loue. 
Then Rofaljmde will haue theeflill in minde, 

Rofader. 
Then let me triumph more than Tithons deere. 
Since Rofalynde will Rofader respeifl : 
Then let my face exile hisforrie cheere, 
Andfrolicke in the comfort of affe^ : 

And fay that Rofaljmde is onely pitifully 

Since Rofalynde is onely beautifull. 

When thus they had finifhed their courting Eglogue in fuch a familiar claufe, Gani« 
mede as Augure of fome good fortunes to light vpon their affeiStions, beganue to be 
thus pleafant ; How now Forrefler, haue I not 6tted your turn ^ Haue I not plaide the 
woman handfomely, and fhewed my felfe as coy in graunts, as courteous in defires» 
and been as full of fufpition, as men of flatterie 9 And yet to falue all, iumpt I not 
all yp with the fweete vnion of loue ? Did not Rosalynde content her Rosader ? The 
Forrefler at this fmiling, fhooke his head, and folding his armes made this merrie 
replie. 

Truth gentle Swaine, Rosader hath his Rosalynde : but as Ixion had luno, who 
thinking to poffeffe a goddeffe, onely imbraced a clowde : in thefe imaginarie fruitions 
of fancie, I refemble the birds that fed themfelues with Zeuxis painted grapes ; but 
they grewe fo leane with pecking at fhaddowes, that they were glad with Aesops 
Cocke to fcrape for a barley comell : fo fareth it with me, who to feede my felfe with 
the hope of my Miilres fauouis, footh my felf in thy futes, and onely in conceipt reape 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 357 

a wifhed for content : but if my food be no better than fuch amorous dreames, Venus 
at the yeares cnde, (hall finde mee but a leane louer. Yet doo I take thefe follies for 
high fortunes, and hope thefe fained affecfUons doo deuine fome unfained ende of 
enfuing fancies. And thereupon (quoth Aliena) He play the prieft, from this day 
forth Ganimede (hall call thee huf band, and thou (halt call Ganimede wife, and fo 
weele haue a marriage. Content (quoth Rosader) and laught. Content (quoth Gani- 
mede) and changed as redde as a rofe : and fo with a fmile and a blufh, they made 
vp this ielling match, that after prooude to a marriage in earned; Rosader full little 
thinking he had wooed and wonne his Rosalynde. But all was well, hope is a fwecte 
firing to harpe on : and therefore let the Forreder a while (hape himfelfe to his (had- 
dow, and tarrie Fortunes leafure, till (he may make a Metamorphofis 6t for his pur- 
pofe. I digreffe, and therefore to Aliena : who faid, the wedding was not worth a 
pinne, vnless there were fome cheere, nor that bargaine well made that was not (Iriken 
vp with a cuppe of wine : and therefore (he wild Ganimede to fet out fuch cates as 
they had, and to drawe out her bottle, charging the Forreder as hee had imagined his 
loues, fo to conccipt thefe cates to be a mod fumptuous banquet, and to take a Mazer 
of wine and to drinke to his Rosalynde : which Rosader did ; and fo they pa(red 
awaye the day in manie pleafant deuices. Till at lad Aliena perceiued time would 
tarrie no man, and that the Sunne waxed verie lowe, readie to fet : which made her 
(horten their amorous prattle, and ende the Banquet with a fre(h Carrowfe ; which 
done, they all three rofe, and Aliena broke off thus. 

Now Forreder, Phcebus that all this while hath been partaker of our fports ; feeing 
euerie Woodman more fortunate in his loues, than hee in his fancies ; feeing thou had 
wonne Rosalynde, when he could not wooe Daphne, hides his head for (hame, and 
bids vs adiew in a clowde ; our (heep they poore wantons wander towards their foldes, 
as taught by Nature their due times of red : which tells vs Forreder, we mud depart. 
Marrie, though there were a marriage, yet I mud carrie (this night) the Bryde with 
me, and to morrow morning if you meete vs heere. He promife to deliuer her as good 
a maide as I (inde her. Content quoth Rosader, tis enough for me in the night to 
dreame on loue, that in the day am fo fond to doate on loue : and fo till to morrow 
you to your Foldes, and I will to my Lodge ; and thus the Forreder and they parted. 
He was no fooner gone, but Aliena and Ganimede went and folded their flockes, and 
taking vp their hookes, their bagges, and their bottles, hied homeward. By the waye, 
Aliena to make the time feeme (hort, began to prattle with Ganimede thus ; I haue 
heard them fay, that what the Fates forepoint, that Fortune pricketh downe with a 
period, that the darres are dicklers in Venus Court, and defire hangs at the heele of 
Dedenie ; if it be fo, then by all probable conie(5lures, this match will be a marriage : 
for if Augurifme be authenticall, or the deuines doomes principles, it cannot bee but 
fuch a (haddowe portends the i(rue of a fubdaunce, for to that ende did the Gods force 
the conceipt of this Eglogue, that they might difcouer the enfuing confent of your 
affeiftions : fo that eare it bee long, I hope (in earned) to daunce at your Wedding. 

Tu(h (quoth Ganimede) al is not malte that is cad on the kill, there goes more 
words to a bargaine than one, loue feeles no footing in the aire, and fancie holdes it 
flipperie harbour to nedle in the tongue : the match is not yet fo furely made but he 
may mi(re of his market ; but if Fortune be his friend, I will not be his foe : and fo 
I pray you (gentle MidrefTe Aliena) take it. I take all things well (quoth (hee) that 
is your content, and am glad Rosader is yours : for now I hope your thoughts will be 
at quiet ; your eye that euer looked at Loue, will nowe lende a glaunce on your 
Lambes : and then they will proue more buxfome and you more blythe, for the eyes 



358 APPENDIX 

of the Maftcr feedes the Cattle. As thus they were in chat, they fpied olde Condon 
where hee came plodding to meete them : who tolde them fupper was readie : which 
newes made them fpeede them home. Where we leaue them to the next morrow, 
and retume to Saladyne. 

All this while did poore Saladjme (bani(hed from Bourdeaux and the Court of 
France by Torismond) wander vp and downe in the Forreft of Arden^ thinking to 
get to Liansy and fo trauell through Germanie into Italy : but the Forreft being full 
of by-pathes, and he vnfkilfuU of the Countrey coaft, flipt out of the way, and 
chaunced vp into the Defart, not farre from the place where Gerismond 
was, and his brother Rosader. Saladjme wearie with wandring vp and IV, iii, Z09 
downe, and hungrie with long fafting ; finding a little caue by the fide 
of a thicket, eating fuch frute as the Forreft did affoord, and contenting himfelfe with 
fuch drinke as Natiu% had prouided, and thirft made delicate, after his repaft he fell 
in a dead fleepe. As thus he lay, a hungrie Lion came hunting downe the edge of 
the groue for pray, and efpying Saladyne began to ceaze vpon him : but feeing he lay 
ftill without anie motion, he left to touch him, for that Lions hate to 
pray on dead carkalTes : and yet defirous to haue fome foode, the Lion IV, iii, 123 
lay downe and watcht to fee if hee would ftirre. While thus Saladyne 
flept fecure, fortune that was careful ouer her champion, began to fmile, and brought 
it fo to palTe, that Rosader (hauing ftriken a Deere that but lightly hurt fled through 
the thicket) came pacing downe by the groue with a Boare fpeare in his hand in 
great haft, he fpied where a man lay a fleepe, and a Lion faft by him : amazed at 
this fight, as hee flood gazing, his nofe on the fodaine bled ; which made him con- 
ieclure it was fome friend of his. Whereuppon drawing more nigh, hee might eafely 
difceme his vifage, and perceiued by his phifnomie that it was his brother Saladyne : 
which draue Rosader into a deepe pafTion, as a man perplexed at the fight of fo vnex- 
pedled a chaunce, maruelling what fhoulde driue his brother to trauerfe thofe fecrete 
Defarts without anie companie in fuch diftreffe and forlome fort. But the prefent 
time craued no fuch doubting ambages : for either he muft refolue to hazard his life 
for his reliefe, or els fteale awaye, and leaue him to the crueltie of the Lion. In 

which doubt, he thus briefly debated with himfelfe. R ofaders meditation. 

Now Rosader, Fortune that long hath whipt thee with nettles, meanes to falue 

thee with rofes ; and hauing croft thee with manie frownes, now fhe prefents thee 
with the brightneffe of her fauours. Thou that didft count thy felfe the moft dif* 
treffed of all men, maift accompt thy felfe now the moft fortunate amongft men ; if 
fortune can make men happie, or fweete reuenge be wrapt in a pleafmg content. 
Thou feeft Saladyne thine enemie, the worker of thy miffortunes, and the efHcient 
caufe of thine exile, fubie<5l to the crueltie of a mercileffe Lion : brought into this 
miferie by the Gods, that they might feeme iuft in reuenging his rigour, and thy 
iniuries. Seeft thou not how the flarres are in a fauourable afpedl, the plannets in 
fome pleafmg coniundlion, the fates agreeable to thy thoughtes, and the deftenies per- 
fourmers of thy defires, in that Saladyne fhall die, and thou free of his bloud ; he 
receiue meede for his amiffe, and thou ere<5l his Tombe with innocent hands. Now 
Rosader fhalt thou retume to Bourdeaux ^ and enioye thy pofTeflions by birth, and his 
reuenewes by inheritaunce: now maift thou triumph in loue, and hang Fortunes 
Altares with garlandes. For when Rosalynde heares of thy wealth, it will make her 
loue thee more willingly : for womens eyes are made of Chrifecoll, that is euer vnper- 
fecfl vnlefTe tempred with golde : and Jupiter fooncft enioyed Danae, becaufe he came 
to her in fo rich a fhower. Thus fhall this Lion (Rosader) end the life of a mifer* 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 359 

able man, and from diftrefle raife thee to bee moil fortunate. And with that cafling 
his Boare fpeare on his neck, away he began to trudge. But hee had not (lept backe 
two or three paces, but a new motion (Iroke him to the very hart, that refling his 
Boare fpeare againft his breafl, hee fell into this paHionate humour. 

Ah Rosader, wert thou the fonne of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux^ whofe vertues ex- 
ceeded his valour, and yet the mod hardiefl Knight in all Europe? Should the 
honour of the father (hine in the a<5lions of the fonne S and wilt thou difhonour thy 
parentage, in forgetting the nature of a Gentleman ? Did not thy father at his lail 
gafpe breathe out this golden principle ; Brothers amitie is like the drops of Balfa- 
mufrtf that falueth the mod dangerous fores 9 Did hee make a large exhort vnto con- 
cord, and wilt thou fliewe thy felfe carelefTe ? Oh Rosader, what though Saladyne hath 
wronged thee, and made thee liue an exile in the Forred ? (hall thy nature be fo 
cruell, or thy nurture fo crooked, or thy thoughts fo fauage, as to fuffer fo difmall a 
reuenge ^ what, to let him be deuoured by wilde beads ^ A/bn fapity qui nonJiH 
fapit is fondly fpoken in fuch bitter extreames. Loofe not his life Rosader to winne 
a world of treafure : for in hauing him thou had a brother, and by hazarding for his 
Ufe, thou getted a friend, and reconciled an enemie : and more honour (halt thou pur- 
chafe by pleafuring a foe, than reuenging a thoufand iniiuries. 

With that his Brother began to dirre, and the Lion to rowfe himfelfe : whereupon 
Rosader fodainely charged him with the Boare fpeare, and wounded the Lion verie 
fore at the fird droake. The bead feeling himfelfe to haue a mortall hurt, leapt at 
Rosader, and with his pawes gaue him a fore pinch on the bread that he had almod 
fain : yet as a man mod valiant, in whom the fparkes of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux 
remained, he recouered himfelfe, and in (hort combat flew the Lion : who at his death 
roared fo lowde, that Saladyne awaked, and darting vp was amazed at the fodajme 
fight of fo mondrous a bead lie (laine by him, and fo fwecte a Gentleman wounded. 
He prefently (as hee was of a ripe conceipt) began to coniecfhire, that the Gentleman 
had (lain him in his defence. Whereuppon (as a man in a traunce) he dood daring 
on them both a good while, not knowing his Brother beeing in that difguife : at lad 
hee burd into thefe tearmes. 

Sir whatfoeuer thou bee, (as full of honour thou mud needs be, by the view of thy 
prefent valure) I perceiue thou had redred my forttmes by thy courage, and faued my 
life with thine owne lofTe : which ties me to be thine in all humble feruice. Thankes 
thou (halt haue as thy due, and more thou cand not haue : for my abilitie denies to 
perfourme a deeper debt But if anie wayes it pleafe thee to commaund me, vfe me 
as farre as the power of a poore Gentleman may dretch. 

Rosader feeing hee was vnknowen to his brother, wondred to heare fuch courteous 
words come from his crabbed nature ; but glad of fuch reformed nourture, hee made 
this aunfwere. I am fir (whatfoeuer thou art) a Forreder and Ranger of thefe 
walkes : who following my Deere to the fall, was conducted hether by fome aflfenting 
Fate, that I might faue thee, and difparage my felfe. For comming into this place, I 
fawe thee a fleepe, and the Lion watching thy awake, that at thy ridng hee might 
prey vppon thy carka(re. At the fird fight, I conie<5lured thee a Gentleman, (for all 
mens thoughts ought to be fauourable in imagination) and I counted it the hart of a 
refolute man to purchafe a drangers reliefe, though with the lofTe of his owne bloud : 
which I haue perfourmed (thou feed) to mine owne preiudice. If therefore thou be 
a man of fuch worth as I valew thee by thy exteriour liniaments, make difcourfe vnto 
mee what is the caufe of thy prefent fortunes. For by the furrowes in thy face thou 
feemed to be crod with her frowns : but whatfoeuer or howfoeuer, let me craue that 



36o APPENDIX 

faaour, to heare the tragicke caufe of thy eflate. Saladyne fitting downe, and fetch- 
ing a deepe figh, began thus. Saladynes difcourfe to Ro fader vn- 

k n o w e n . Although the difcourfe of my fortunes, be the renewing of my for- 

rowes, and the rubbing of the fear, will open a frefti wound ; yet that I may not 
prooue ingratefull to fo courteous a Gentleman, I will rather fitte downe and figh out 
my eflate, than giue anie offence by fmoothering my griefe with filence. Know there- 
fore (fir) that I am of BourdeauXy and the fonne and heire of Syr lohn of Bour- 
deauXf a man for his vertues and valour fo famous, that I cannot thinke, but the fame 
of his honours, hath reacht farther than the knowledge of his Perfouage. The infor- 
tunate fonne of fo fortunate a Knight am I, my name Saladyne : Who fucceeding my 
Father in poffeffions but not in qualities, hauing two Brethren committed by my Father 
at his death to my charge, with fuch golden principles of brotherly concord, as might 
haue pierfl like the Syrens melodie into anie humane eare. But I (with Vlysses 
became deafe againfl his Philofophicall harmony, and made more value of profite 
than of vertue, efleeming golde fufBcient honour, and wealth the fittefl title for a gen- 
tlemans dignitie : I fet my middle brother to the Vniuerfitie to be a Scholler, counting 
it enough if he might pore on a booke, while I fed vpon his reuenewes : and for the 
yongefl (which was my fathers ioye) yong Rosader. And with that, naming of Rosa- 
der, Saladyne fate him downe and wept. 

Nay forward man (quoth the Forrefler) teares are the vnfittefl falue that anie man 
can applie for to cure forowes, and therefore ceafe from fuch feminine follies, as 
fhoulde droppe out of a Womans eye to deceiue, not out of a Gentlemans looke to 
difcouer his thoughts, and forward with thy difcourfe. 

Oh fir (quoth Saladjme) this Rosader that wringes teares from mine eyes, and 
bloud from my heart, was like my father in exteriour perfonage and in inward quali- 
ties : for in the prime of his yeares he aimed all his a(5U at honor, and coueted rather 
to die, than to brooke anie iniurie vnworthie a Gentlemans credite. I, whom enuie 
had made blinde, and couetoufneffe mafked with the vaile of felfe loue, feeing the 
Palme tree grow flraight, thought to fuppreffe it being a twig : but Nature will haue 
her courfe, the Cedar will be tall, the Diamond bright, the Carbuncle gliflering, and 
vertue will fhine though it be neuer fo much obfcured. For I kept Rosader as a 
flane, and vfed him as one of my feruile hindes, vntil age grew on, and a fecrete 
infight of my abufe entred into his minde : infomuch, that hee could not brooke it, 
but coueted to haue what his father left him, and to Hue of himfelfe. To be fhort fir, 
I repined at his fortunes, and he countercheckt me not with abilitie but valour, vntill 
at lafl by my friends and aid of fuch as followed golde more than right or vertue, I 
banifht him from Bourdeaux, and he pore Gentleman Hues no man knowes where in 
fome diflreffed difcontent. The Gods not able to fuffer fuch impietie vnreuenged, fo 
wrought, that the King pickt a caufeles quarrell againfl me, in hope to haue my lands, 
and fo hath exiled me out of France for euer. Thus, thus fir, am I the mofl miferable 
of all men, as hauing a blemifh in my thoughtes for the wrongs I proffered Rosader, 
and a touche in my (late to be throwen from my proper poffeffions by iniuflice. Paf- 
fionate thus with manie griefes, in penaunce of my former follies, I goe thus pilgrime 
like to feeke out my Brother, that I may reconcile my felfe to him in all fubmiffion, 
and afterward wend to the holy I .and, to ende my yeares in as manie vertues, as I 
haue fpent my youth in wicked vanities. 

Rosader hearing the refolution of his brother Saladyne began to compafHonate his 
forrowes, and not able to fmother the fparkes of Nature with fained fecrecie, he burfl 
into thefe louing fpeaches. Then know Saladyne (quoth he) that thou hafl met with 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 361 

Rosader ; who grieues as much to fee thy diftrefle, as thy felfe to feele the burden of 
thy miferie. Saladyne cafling vp his eye, and noting well the phifnomie of the For- 
reder, knew that it was his brother Rosader : which made him fo baih and blufh at 
the 6rll meeting, that Rosader was faine to recomfort him. Which he did in fuch 
fort, y* he (hewed how highly he held reuenge in fcome. Much a doo there was 
betweene thefe two Brethren, Saladjme in craning pardon, and Rosader in forgiuing 
and forgetting all former iniuries; the one fubmiffe, the other curteous; Saladjme 
penitent and paifionate, Rosader kinde & louing ; that at length Nature working an 
vnion of theyr thoughts, they eameflly embraced, and fell from matters of vnkind- 
neffe, to talke of the Countrey life, which Rosader fo highly commended, that his 
brother began to haue a defire to tafle of that homely content. In this humour Rosa- 
der condu(5led him to Gerismonds Lodge, and prefented his brother to the King ; dif- 
courfing the whole matter how all bad happened betwixt them. The King looking 
yppon Saladyne, found him a man of a mod beautifull perfonage, and faw in his face 
fufficient fparkes of enfuing honours, gaue him great entertainment, and glad of their 
friendly reconcilement, promifed fuch fauour as the pouertie of his edate might 
affoord : which Saladyne gratefully accepted. And fo Gerismond fell to quedion of 
Torismonds life? Saladyne briefly difcourd vnto him his iniudice and tyrannies: 
with fuch modedie (although hee had wronged him) that Gerismond greatly praifed 
the fparing fpeach of the yong Gentleman. 

Manie quedions pad, but at lad Gerismond began with a deepe figh, to inquire if 
there were anie newes of the welfare of Alinda or his daughter Rosalynde ? None 
fir quoth Saladyne, for fmce their departure they were neuer heard of. Iniurious 
Fortune (quoth the King) that to double the Fathers miferie, wrongd the Daughter 
with miffortunes. And with that (furcharged with forrowes) he went into his Gel, 
& led Saladyne and Rosader, whom Rosader dreight condu(5led to the fight of Adam 
Spencer. Who feeing Saladyne in that edate, was in a browne dudie : but when hee 
heard the whole matter, although he grieued for the exile of his Mader, yet hee ioyed 
that banifhment had fo reformed him, that from a lafciuious youth hee was prooued 
a vertuous Gentleman. Looking a longer while, and feeing what familiaritie pad 
betweene them, and what fauours were interchanged with brotherly affecflion, he faid 
thus ; I marrie, thus (hould it be, this was the concord that olde Sir lohn of Bour- 
deaux wifht betwixt you. Now fulfill you thofe precepts he breathed out at his 
death, and in obferuing them, looke to Hue fortunate, and die honourable. Wei faid 
Adam Spencer quoth Rosader, but had anie vi(5lualls in dore for vs ^ A peece of a 
red Deere (quoth he) and a bottle of wine. Tis Forreders fare brother, quoth Rosa- 
der : and fo they fate downe and fell to their cates. AfToone as they had taken their 
rcpad, and had well dined, Rosader tooke his brother Saladjme by the hand, and 
(hewed him the pleafures of the Forred, and what content they enioyed in that 
meane edate. Thus for two or three dayes he walked vp and down with his brother, 
to (hewe him all the commodities that belonged to his Walke. In which time bee 
was mid of his Ganimede, who mufed greatly (with Aliena) what (hould become of 
their Foreder. Some while they thought he had taken fome word vnkindly, and had 
taken the pet : then they imagined fome new loue had withdrawen his fancie, or hap- 
pely that he was ficke, or detained by fome great bunne(re of Gerismonds, or that he 
had made a reconcilement with his brother, and fo returned to Bourdeaux. Thefe 
conie<5hires did they cad in their heads, but efpecially Ganimede : who hauing Loue 
in her heart prooued redle(re, and halfe without patience, that Rosader wronged hir 
with fo long abfence : for Loue meafures euerie minute, and thinkes bowers to be 



362 APPENDIX 

dayes, and dayes to be months, till they feed their eyes with the fight of their deftred 
obie<5l. Thus perplexed liued poore Ganimede : while on a day fitting with Aliena 
in a great dumpe, (he cafl vp her eye, and faw where Rosader came 
pacing towards them with his forred bill on his necke. At that fight her I, ii, XI7 
colour chaungde, and (he faid to Aliena; See Mi(lre(re where our iolly 
Forrefter comes. And you are not a little glad thereof (quoth Aliena) your nofe 
bewrayes what porredge you loue, the winde cari not bee tied within his quarter, 
the Sunne (haddowed with a yaile, Oyle hidden in water, nor Loue kept out of a 
Womans lookes : but no more of that, Lupus est in fabula. As foone as Rosader 
was come within the reach of her tungs ende, Aliena began thus : Why how now 
gentle Forrefter, what winde hath kept you from hence ? that beeing fo newly mar- 
ried, you haue no more care of your Rosalynde, but to abfent your felfe fo manie 
dayes 9 Are thefe the pa(rions you painted out fo in your Sonnets and roundelaies ? 
I fee w«ll bote loue is foone colde, and that the fancie of men, is like to a loofe 
feather that wandreth in the aire with the blaft of euerie winde. You are deceiued 
Miftres quoth Rosader, twas a coppie of vnkindne(fe that kept me hence, in that I 
being married, you carried away the Bryde : but if I haue giuen anie occaHon of 
offence by abfenting my felfe thefe three dayes, I humblie fue for pardon : which you 
muft gratmt of courfe, in that the fault is fo friendly confeft with penaunce. But to 
tell you the truth (faire Miftre(re, and my good Rosalynde) my eldeft Brother by the 
iniurie of Torismond is bani(hed from Bourdeaux^ and by chaunce hee and I met in 
the Forreft. And heere Rosader difcouHl vnto them what had hapned betwixt them : 
which reconcilement made them gladde, efpecially Ganimede. But Aliena hearing 
of the tyrannie of her Father, grieued inwardly, and yet fmothred all things with 
fuch fecrecie, that the concealing was more forrow than the conceipt : yet that her 
eftate might be hid ftill, (hee made faire weather of it, and fo let all pa(fe. 

Fortime, that fawe how thefe parties valued not her Deilie, but helde her power in 
fcome, thought to haue about with them, and brought the matter to pa(fe thus. Cer* 
taine Rafcalls that liued by prowling in the Forreft, who for feare of the Prouoft 
Marihall had caues in the groues and thickets, to (hrowde themfelues from his traines ; 
hearing of the beautie of this faire ShepheardcfTe Aliena, thought to fteale her away, 
and to giue her to the King for a prefent ; hoping, becaufe the King was a great 
lechour, by fUch a gift to purchafe all their pardons : and therfore came to take her 
and her Page away. Thus refolued, while Aliena and Ganimede were in this fad 
talk, they came ru(hing in, and laid violent hands vpon Aliena and her Page, which 
made them crie out to Rosader : who hauing the valour of his father ftamped in his 
heart, thought rather to die in defence of his friends, than anie way be toucht with 
the leaft blemilh of difhonour ; and therfore dealt fuch blowes amongft them with his 
weapon, as he did witneflfe well vpon their carcaffes, that he was no coward. But as 
Ne Hercules quidem contra duos., fo Rosader could not refift a multitude, hauing none 
to backe him ; fo that hee was not onely rebatted, but fore wounded, and Aliena and 
Ganimede had been quite carried away by thefe Rafcalls, had not Fortune (that ment 
to tume her frowne into a fauour) brought Saladyne that way by chaunce ; who wan- 
dring to finde out his Brothers Walke, encountred this crue : and feeing not onely a 
(hepheardcffe and her boy forced, but his brother wounded, hee heaued vp a forreft 
bill he had on his necke, and the firft hee ftroke had neuer after more neede of the 
Phifition : redoubling his blowes with fuch courage, that the (laues were amazed at 
his valour. 

Rosader efpying his brother fo fortunately arriued, and feeing how valiantly he 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 363 

behaued himfelfe, though fore woQded, nifhed amongft them, and laid on fuch load, 
that fome of the crue were flaine, and the reft fled, leauing Aliena and Ganimede in 
the pofrefTion of Rosader and Saladyne. 

Aliena after (he had breathed a while and was come to her felfe from this feare, 
lookt about her, and faw where Ganimede was bufie drefling vp the woimds of the 
Forrefter : but (he caft her eye vpon this courteous champion that had made fo bote a 
refcue, and that with fuch affe<5Uon, that (bee began to meafure euerie part of him 
with fauour, and in her felfe to commend his perfonage and his vertue, holding him 
for a refolute man, that durft affaile fuch a troupe of vnbridled yillaines. At lafl 
gathering her fpirites together, (he returned him thefe thankes. 

Gentle fir, whatfoeuer you be that haue aduentured your flclh to relieue our foi 
tunes, as we holde you valiant, fo we efteeme you courteous, and to haue as manie 
hidden vertues, as you haue manifeft refolutions. Wee poore Shepheards haue no 
wealth but our flockes, and therefore can we not make requitall with anie great treaf- 
ures : but our recompence is thankes, and our rewardes to our friendes without fain- 
ing. For ranfome therefore of this our refcue, you muft content your felfe to take 
fuch a kinde gramercie, as a poore Shepheardeffe and her Page may giue : with prom- 
ife (in what wee may) neuer to prooue ingratefull. For this Gentleman that is hurt, 
yong Rosader, he is our good neighbour and familiar acquaintance, weele pay him 
with fmiles, and feede him with loue-lookes : and though he bee neuer the fatter at 
the yeares ende, yet wele fo hamper him that he (hall holde himfelfe fatiffied. 

Saladyne hearing this Shepheardeffe fpeake fo wifely began more narrowly to prie 
into her perfedlion, and to furuey all her liniaments with a curious infight ; fo long 
dallying in the flame of her beautie, that to his coft he found her to be moft excel- 
lent : for Loue that lurked in all thefe broiles to haue a blowe or two, feeing the 
parties at the gaze, encountred them both with fuch a yenie, that the ftroke pierft to 
the heart fo deepe, as it could neuer after be raced out. At laft after he had looked 
fo long, till Aliena waxt red, he returned her this anfwere. 

Faire Shepheardeffe, if Fortune graced mee with fuch good hap, as to doo you 
anie fauour, I holde my felfe as contented, as if I had gotten a great conqueft : for 
the reliefe of diftreffed women is the fpeciall point, that Gentlemen are tied vnto by 
honour : feeing then my hazarde to refcue your harmes, was rather dutie than curte- 
fie, thaks is more than belongs to the requitall of fuch a fauour. But leaft I might 
feeme either too coye or too carelefTe of a Gentle womans proff*er, I wil take your 
kinde gramercie for a recompence. All this while that he fpake, Ganimede lookt 
eameftly vpon him, and faid ; Tnilie Rosader, this Gentleman fauours you much in 
the feature of your face. No meruaile (quoth hee, gentle Swaine) for tis my eldeft 
brother Saladyne. Your brother quoth Aliena ? (& with that (he blufht) he is the 
more welcome, and I holde myfelfe the more his debter : and for that he hath in my 
behalfe done fuch a peece of feruice, if it pleafe him to doo me that honour, I will 
call him feruant, and he (hall call me Miftreffe. Content fweet MiflrefTe quoth Sala- 
dyne, and when I forget to call you fo, I will be vnmindfull of mine owne felfe. 
Away with thefe quirkes and quiddities of loue quoth Rosader, and giue me fome 
drinke, for I am paffmg thirflie, and then wil I home for my wounds bleede fore, and 
I will haue them dreft. Ganimede had teares in her eyes, and pafTions in her heart 
to fee her Rosader fo pained, and therefore ftept haftely to the bottle, and filling out 
fome wine in a Mazer, fhee fpiced it with fuch comfortable drugs as fhe had about 
her, and gaue it him ; which did comfort Rosader : that rifmg (with the helpe of his 
brother) he tooke his leaue of them, and went to his Lodge. Ganimede affoone 



364 APPENDIX 

05 they were out of Hght ledde his flockes downe to a vale, and there vnder the 
(haddow of a Beech tree fate downe, and began to moume the miffortunes of her 
fweete heart. 

And Aliena (as a woman paffing difcontent) feuering her felfe from her Ganimede, 
fitting vnder a Lymon tree, began to figh out the pafTions of her newe Loue, and to 

meditate with her felfe on this manner. A lienaes meditation . Ay me, 

now I fee, and forrowing figh to fee that Dianaes Lawrells are harbours for Ventv 
Doues, that there trace as well through the Lawnes, wantons as chad ones ; that 
Calisto be (he neuer fo charie, will cad one amorous eye at courting loue : that Diana 
her felf will change her fliape, but (hee will honour Loue in a Ihaddow : that maidens 
eyes be they as hard as Diamonds, yet Cupide hath drugs to make them more pliable 
than waxe. See Alinda, howe Fortune and Loue haue interleagued themfelues to be 
thy foes : and to make thee their fubiec^ or els an abiec^, haue inueigled thy Hght 
with a mod beautiful obie<5l. Alate thou didd holde Venus for a giglot, not a god- 
defTe ; and now thou (halt be ford to fue fuppliant to her Deitie. Cupide was a boy 
and blinde, but alas his eye had aime inough to pierce thee to the heart. While I 
liued in the Court, I helde Loue in contempt, and in high feates I had fmall defires. 
I knewe not affecflion while I liued in dignitie, nor could Venus counterchecke me, 
as long as my fortune was maiedie, and my thoughtes honour : and (hall I nowe bee 
high in defires, when I am made lowe by Dedenie ^ 

I haue hearde them faye, that Loue lookes not at low cottages, that Venus 
iettes in Roabes not in ragges, that Cupide fives fo high, that hee fcomes to touche 
pouertie with his heele. Tu(h Alinda, thefe are but olde wiues tales, and neither 
authenticall precepts, nor infallible principles: for Experience tells thee, that 
Pcafaunts haue theyr pa(rions, as well as Princes, that Swaynes as they haue their 
labours, fo they haue theyr amours, and Loue lurkes a(roone about a Sheepcoate, as 
a Pallaice. 

Ah Alinda, this day in auoiding a preiudice thou art fallen into a deeper mif- 
chiefe ; being refcued from the robbers, thou art become captiue to Saladyne : and 
what then ^ Women mud loue, or they mud ceafe to liue : and therefore did Nature 
frame them faire, that they might be fubie<5ls to fancie. But perhaps Saladjmes eye 
is leuelde vpon a more feemelier Saint. If it be fo, beare thy pa(rions with patience, 
fay Loue hath wrongd thee, that hath not wroong him ; and if he be proud in con- 
tempt, bee thou rich in content ; and rather die than difcouer anie defire : for there 
is nothing more precious in a woman, than to conceale Loue, and to die moded. He 
is the fonne and heire of Sir lohn of Bourdeaux^ a youth comely enough : oh Alinda, 
too comely, els hadd not thou been thus difcontent ; valiant, and that fettered thine 
eye ; wife, els hadd thou not been nowe wonne : but for all thefe vertues, bani(hed 
by thy father ; and therefore if hee know thy parentage, he will hate the fruite for 
the tree, and condempne the yong fien for the olde docke. Well, howfoeuer, I mud 
loue : and whomfoeuer, I will : and whatfoeuer betidej Aliena will thinke well of 
Saladyne : fuppofe he of me as he pleafe. And with that fetching a deepe figh, (he 
rife vp, and went to Ganimede : who all this while fate in a great dumpe, fearing the 
imminent danger of her friend Rosader; but now Aliena began to comfort her, her 
felfe beeing ouer growen with forrowes, and to recall her from her melancholie with 
manie pleafaunt perfwafions. Ganimede tooke all in the bed part, and fo they went 
home together after they had folded their flockes, fupping with olde Coridon, who 
had prouided there cates. He after fupper, to pafTe away the night while bedde 
time, began a long difcourfe, how Montanus the yong Shepheard that was in loue 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 365 

with Phoebe, could by no meanes obtaine ante fauour at her hands : but dill pained 
in refUefle paffions, remained a hopeleHe and perplexed Louer. I would I might 
(quoth Aliena) once fee that Phoebe, is fhee fo faire, that (he thinkes no (hepheard 
worthie of her beautie : or fo froward that no loue nor loyaltie will content hir : or 
fo coye, that (he requires a long time to be wooed : or fo fooli(h that (he forgets, that 
like a fop (he mufl haue a large harued for a little come ^ 

I cannot di(lingui(h (quoth Condon) of thefe nice qualities: but one of thefe 
dayes He bring Montanus and her downe, that you may both fee their perfons, and 
note theyr pa(rions : and then where the blame is, there let it red. But this I am fure 
quoth Condon, if all maidens were of her minde, the world would growe to a madde 
pa(re ; for there would be great (lore of wooing, and little wedding, manie words and 
little worihip, much follie and no faith. At this fad fentence of Coridon fo folempnlie 
brought foorth, Aliena iiniled : and becaufe it waxt late, (he and her page went to 
bed, both of them hauing fleas in their eares to keep the awake, Ganimede for the 
hurt of her Rosader, and Aliena for the affe<5tion (he bore to Saladyne. In this dif- 
contented humor they pad away the time, til falling on deep, their fenfes at red, Loue 
led them to their quiet (lumbers : which were not long. For a(roone as Phoebus rofe 
from his Aurora, and began to mount him in the Skie, fummoning the Plough-fwaines 
to their handie labour, Aliena arofe ; and going to the couche where Ganimede laye, 
awakened her page, and faid the morning was farre fpent, the deaw fmal, and time 
called them awaye to their foldes. Ah, ah, (quoth Ganimede) is the winde in that 
doore ^ then in faith I perceiue that there is no Diamond fo harde but will yeelde to 
the file, no Cedar fo drong but the winde will (hake, nor anie minde fo chade but 
Loue will change. Well Aliena, mud Saladyne be the man, and will it be a match ^ 
Trud me he is faire and valiant, the fonne of a worthie Knight ; whome if hee imi- 
tate in perfe<5lion as hee reprefents him in proportion, he is worthie of no le(re than 
Aliena. But he is an exile : what then ? I hope my Midres refpe<5l8 the vertues not 
the wealth, and meafures the qualities not the fubdance. Thofe dames that are like 
Danae, that like loue in no fhape but in a (hower of golde ; I wi(h them huf bandes 
with much wealth and little wit ; that the want of the one may blemi(h the abun- 
dance of the other. It (hould (my Aliena) daine the honour of a Shepheardes life 
to fet the end of pafTions vpon pelfe. Loues eyes looks not fo low as gold, there is 
no fees to be paid in Cupids Courtes : and in elder time (as Coridon hath tolde me) 
the Shepheards Loue-gifts were apples and cheflnuts, & then their defires were loyal] 
and their thoughts conflant. But now Quarenda pecunia primunty post nummos vir- 
tus. And the time is growen to that which Horace in his Satyres wrote on : 

omnis enim res 
Virtus-fama decus diuina humanaque pulchris 
DiuUijs parent : quas qui-constrinxerU ilU 
Clarus erit^fortisy itistusyfaptens, etiam &* rex 
Et quic quid voUt- 

But Aliena let it not be fo with thee in thy fancies, but refpe(5l his faith, and 
there an ende. Aliena hearing Ganimede thus ' forward to further Saladyne in his 
afre<5Hons, thought (he kid the childe for the nurfes fake, and wooed for him that (he 
might pleafe Rosader, made this replie ; Why Ganimede, whereof growes this per- 
fwafion? Had thou feene Loue in my lookes? Or are mine eyes growen fo 
amorous, that they difcouer fome new entertained fancies ? If thou meafured my 
thoughtes by my countenance, thou maid prooue as ill a Phifiognomer as the Lapi* 



366 APPENDIX 

darie, that ayines at the fecrete vertnes of the Topace, by the exterior (hadow of the 
ilone. The operation of the Agate is not knowen by the drakes, nor the Diamond 
prized by his brightnefTe, but by his hardneffe. The Carbuncle that fliineth mod, is 
not euer the moft precious : and the Apothecaries choofe not fk>wers for their coulours, 
but for their vertues. Womens faces are not alwaies Kalenders of fancie, nor doo 
their thoughtes and their lookes euer agree : for when their eyes are fulled of fauors, 
then they are od mod emptie of defire : and when they feeme to frown at iifdaine, 
then are they mod forwarde to affe<5tion. If I bee melancholie, then Ganimede tis 
not a confequence that I am entangled with the perfecftion of Saladjme. But feeing 
fire cannot be hid in the draw, nor Loue kept fo couert but it will bee fpied, what 
diould friends conceale fancies 9 Know my Ganimede, the beautie and valour, the 
wit and proweffe of Saladyne hath fettered Aliena fo farre, as there is no obiecl 
pleafing to her eyes, but the fight of Saladyne : and if loue haue done me iudice, to 
wrap his thoughts in the foldes of my fare, and that he be as deeply enamoured as I 
am paiTionate; I tell thee Ganimede, there (hall not be much wooing, for flie is 
alreadie wonne, and what needes a longer batterie. I am glad quoth Ganimede 
that it fliall be thus proportioned, you to match with Saladyne, and I with Rosader : 
thus haue the Dedenies fauoured vs with fome pleadng afpedl, that haue made vs as 
priuate in our loues, as familiar in our fortunes. 

With this Ganimede dart vp, made her readie, & went into the fields with Aliena : 
where vnfolding their fiockes, they fate them downe vnder an Oliue tree, both of them 
amorous, and yet diuerflie affe<5led ; Aliena ioying in the excellence of Saladyne, and 
Ganimede forrowing for the wounds of her Rosader, not quiet in thought till die 
might heare of his health. As thus both of them fate in thejrr dumpes, they might 
efpie where Coridon came running towards them (almod out of breath with his had). 
What newes with you (quoth Aliena) that you come in fuch podS Oh Midret 
(quoth Coridon) you haue a long time defired to fee Fhcebe the faire ShepheardeiTe 
whom Montanus loues : fo nowe if it pleafe you and Ganimede but to walke with 
me to yonder thicket, there fliall you fee Montanus and her fitting by a Fountaine ; 
he courting with his Countrey ditties, and flie as coye as if flie helde Loue in dif- 
daine. 

The newes were fo welcome to the two Louers, that yp they rofe, and went with 
Coridon. AiToone as they drew nigh the thicket, they might efpie where Fhcebe fate, 
(the faired ShepheardeiTe in all Arden^ and he the fipolickd Swaine in the whole For- 
red) flie in a peticoate of fcarlet, couered with a greene mande ; and to flirowde her 
from the Sunne, a chaplet of rofes : from vnder which appeared a face full of Natures 
excellence, and two fuch eyes as might haue amated a greater man than Montanus. 
At gaze vppon this gorgeous Nymph fat the Shepheard, feeding his eyes with her 
fauours, wooing with fuch piteous lookes, & courting with fuch deep draind fighs, as 
would haue made Diana her felfe to haue been companionate. At lad, fixing his 
lookes on the riches of her face, his head on his hande, and his elbow on his knee, 
he fung this moumefuU Dittie. 

Montanus Sonnet 

A Turtle fate vpon a Uaueleffe iree^ 
Mourning her abfent pheart 
With fad and/orrie cheare : 
About her wondring ftood 
The citizens of Wood, lit it ^ 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 367 

AndwhiUft her plumes Jhe rents 
And for her loue laments, 
Thejlately trees complaine them. 
The birdes with forrow paine them : 
Each one that doth her view 
Her paine and forrorwes rue. 
But were the/orrowes knowen 
That me hath ouerthrowen. 
Oh how would Vha^ Jigh, if Jhe did looke on met 

The louejicke Polypheme that could not fee. 

Who on the barraine fhore 

His fortunes doth deplore. 

And melteth all in mone 

For Galatea gone : 

And vnth his piteous cries 

Affli^s both earth and Skies : 

And to his woe betooke 

Doth breake both pipe and hooke\ 

For whome complaines the Mome, 

For whom the Sea Nymphs moume, 

Alas his paine is nought: 

For were my woe but thought. 
Oh how would V\ia^figh, if Jhe did looke on mee t 

Beyond compare my paine 

yet glad am I, 
Jf gentle Phcebe daine 

to fee her Montan die. 

Alter this, Montanus felt his paffions fo extreame, that he fell into this exclamation 
•gaind the iniuflice of Loue. 

Helas Tirant plein de rigueur, 
Modere vn peu ta violence : 
Que te fert ft grande defpenfe t 
C*e/l trop de Jlammes pour vn cueur* 
Efparguez en vne ejlin celle. 
Puis fay ton effort d^efmoAoir, 
Lafiere qui ne veut point voir. 
En quelfuje brujle pour elle. 
Execute Amour ce deffein, 
Et rabaiffe vn peu f on audace. 
Son cuer ne doit ejlre de glace, 
Bien que elle ait de Niege lefein. 

Montanus ended his Sonet with fuch a volley of fighs, and fuch a ilreame of 
teares, as might haue mooued any but Phcebe to haue graunted him fauoor. But (he 
meafuring all his paffions with a coye difdaine, and triumphing in the 
poore Shepheardes patheticall humours, fmiling at his mart3Tdome, as IV, i, X83 
though loue had been no maladie, foomefully warbled out this Sonnet 



368 APPENDIX 

Fhoebes Sonnet a replie to Montanus pafuon. 

Downe a downe. 

Thus YoXXY^/ung 

by fancie once distrejfed : 
Whofo by foolijh Loue areftung^ 
are worthely opprejfed. 

Andfofmg I. With a downe, downe, &c» 

When Loue was first begot. 
And by the moouers will 
Did fall to humane lot 
HUfolace to fulfill, 
Deuoid of all deceipty 
A chast and holy fire 
Did quicken mans conceipt. 
And womens breast inspire. 
The Gods that f aw the good 
That mortalls did approue.. 
With kinde and holy mood 
Began to talke of Loue. 

Downe a downe, 
Thus Phillis/i/ii^ 

by fancie once distreffed, ^tc% 



But during this accord^ 
A wonder firange to heare : 
Whitest Loue in deed and word 
Most faithfull did appeare, 
Falfe femblance came in place 
By iealozie attended^ 
And with a doubleface 
Both loue and fancie blended. 
Which made the Gods forfake. 
And men from fancie file. 
And maidens f come a make\ 
Forfooth andfo will L 

Downe a downe. 
ThusVMxWvi^fung 

by fancie once distreffed\ 
Whofo by foolifh Loue are flung 
are worthely opprejfed, 
Andfofmg L 

with downe a downe, adowne downe, adowne a, 

Montanus hearing the cruel refolution of Phoebe, was fo ouergrowen with paflions, 
that from amorous Ditties he fell flat into thefe tearmes ; Ah Fhcebe quoth he, where- 
of art thou made, that thou regardefl not iry maladie ? Am I fo hatefull an obie^ 
that thine eyes condempne me for an abiedl / or fo bafe, that thy defires cannot floope 
fo lowe as to lende mee a gracious looke ^ My pafTions are manie, my loues more, 
my thoughts loyaltie, and my fancie faith : all denoted in humble deuoire to the fer- 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 369 

nice of Fhcebe : & (hal I reape no reward for fach fealties. The Swaines daylie 
labours is quit with the euenings hire, the Ploughmans toyle is eafed with the hope of 
come, what the Oxe fweates out at the plough he fatneth at the cribbe : but infortv- 
nate Montanus hath no falue for his forrowes, nor anie hope of rccOpence for the 
hazard of his perplexed paflions. If Phcebe, time may plead the proofe of my truth, 
twice feuen winters haue I loued faire Phoebe : if condancie bee a caufe to farther 
my fute, Montanus thoughtes haue beene fealed in the fweete of Phoebes excellence, 
as farre from chaunge as (he from loue : if outward paflions may difcouer inward 
affedlions, the furrowes in my face may decypher the forrowes of my heart, and the 
mappe of my lookes the griefes of my minde. Thou feed (Phoebe) the teares of def- 
pa3rre haue made my cheekes full of wrinkles, and my fcalding fighes haue made the 
aire Eccho her pitie conceiued in my plaints : Philomele hearing my paflions, hath 
left her moumfull tunes to liden to the difcourfe of my miferies. I haue pourtraied 
in euerie tree the beautie of my Miftrefle, & the defpaire of my loues. What is it in 
the woods cannot witnes my woes ? and who is it would not pitie my plaints ^ Onely 
Phoebe. And why ? Becaufe I am Montanus, and (he Phoebe ; I a worthleflfe Swaine 
and (hee the mod excellent of all faires. Beautifuil Phoebe, oh might I fay pitifull, 
then happie were I though I taded but one minute of that good bap. Meafure Mon- 
tanus not by his fortunes but by his loues ; and ballaunce not his wealthe, but hit 
defires, and lend but one gracious looke to cure a heape of difquieted cares : if not, 
ah if Phoebe can not loue, let a dorme of frownes ende the difcontent of my thoughts, 
and fo let me perilh in my defires, becaufe they are aboue my deferts : onely at my 
death this fauour cannot be denied me, that all (hall fay, Montanus died for loue of 
harde hearted Phcebe. At thefe words (he Bid her face full of frownes, and made 
him this (hort and (harpe replie. 

Importunate Shepheard, whofe loues are lawleflfe, becaufe redlefle : are thy paf- 
fions fo extreame that thou cand not conceale them with patience 9 Or art thou fo 
folly-fick, that thou mud needes be fancie-ficke ^ and in thy aflfecflion tied to fuch an 
exigent, as none femes but Phoebe. Well fir, if your market may be made no where 
els, home again, for your Mart is at the faired. Fhcebe is no lettice for 
your lippes, and her grapes hangs fo high, that gaze at them you may, but V, i, 38 
touch them you cannot. Yet Montanus I fpeake not this in pride, but in 
difdaine ; not that I fcome thee, but that I hate Loue : for I count it as great honour 
to triumph ouer Fancie, as ouer Fortune. Red thee content therefore Montanus, ceafe 
from thy loues, and bridle thy lookes ; quench the fparkles before they grow to a 
further flame : for in louing me thou (halt line by lode, & what thou vttered in words, 
are all written in the winde. Wert thou (Montanus) as faire as Paris, as bardie as 
Hector, as condant as Troylus, as louing as Leander ; Phoebe could not loue, becaufe 
(he cannot loue at all : and therefore if thou purfue me with Phoebus, I mud flie with 
Daphne. 

Ganimede ouer-hearing all thefe paflions of Montanus, could not brooke the cruel- 
tie of Phoebe, but darting from behindc the bu(h faid ; And if Damzell^ou fled from 
me, I would tranfforme you as Daphne to a bay, and then in contempt trample your 
branches vnder my feete. Phoebe at this fodaine replie was amazed, efpecially when 
(he faw fo faire a Swaine as Ganimede ; blu(hing therefore, (hee would haue been 
gone : but that he held her by the hand, and profecuted his replie thus. What Shep- 
heardeHTe, fo fayre and fo cmell ^ Difdaine befeemes not cottages, nor coynes maides : 
for either they be condempned to bee too proude, or too froward. Take heede (faire 
Nymph) that in defpifing Loue, you be not ouer-reacht with Loue, and in (baking off 

24 



370 APPENDIX 

all, (hape your felfe to your own fhaddow : and fo with Narcissus prooae paffionate & 
yet vnpitied. Oft haue I heard, and fometimes haue I feene, high difdaine tumd to 
hot defires. Becaufe thou art beautiful!, be not fo coye : as there is nothing more 
faire, fo there is nothing more fading, as momentary as the (hadowes which growes 
from a clowdie Sunne. Such (my faire ShepheardeHe) as difdaine in youth defire in 
age, and then are they hated in the winter, that might haue been loued in the prime. 
A wrinkled maide is like to a parched Rofe, that is call vp in coffers to pleafe the 
fmell, not wome in the hand to content the eye. There is no follie in Loue to had I 
wifl : and therefore be rulde by me, Loue while thou art young, lead thou be difdained 
when thou art olde. Beautie nor time cannot bee recalde, and if thou loue, like of 
Montauns : for as his defires are manie, fo his deferts are great 

Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection af Ganimede, as deeplie enamoured 
on his perfection, as Montanus inueigled with hers : for her eye made funiey of his 
excellent feature, which (he found fo rare, that flie thought the ghod of Adonis had 
been leapt from Elizium in the (hape of a Swaine. When (he blufht at her owne fol- 
lie to looke fo long on a (Iranger, (he mildlie made aunfwere to Ganimede thus. I 
cannot denie fir but I haue heard of Loue, though I neuer felt Loue ; and haue read 
of fuch a Godde(re as Venus, though I neuer faw anie but her picture : & perhaps, 
and with that (he waxed red and bafhful, and with all filent : which Ganimede per- 
ceiuing, commended in her felfe the ba(hfulne(re of the maide, and defircd her to goe 
forward. And perhaps fir (quoth (he) mine eye hath ben more prodigall to day than 
euer before : and with that (he (laid againe, as one greatly pa(rionate and perplexed. 
— Aliena feeing the hare through the maze, bade her forwarde with her prattle : but in 
vaine, for at this abrupt periode (he broke off, and with her eyes full of teares, and 
her face couered with a vermillion die, (he fate downe and fightht. Whereuppon, 
Aliena and Ganimede feeing the Shepheardeffe in fuch a flrange plight, left Phoebe 
with her Montanus, wifhing her friendly that (hee would be more pliant to Loue, leait 
in penaunce Venus ioyned her to fome (harpe repentaunce. Phoebe made no replie, 
but fetcht fuch a figh, that Eccho made relation of her plaint : giuing Ganimede fuch 
an adieu with a piercing glaunce, that the amorous Girle-boye perceiued Phoebe was 
pincht by the heele. 

But leaning Phcebe to the follies of her new fancie, and Montanus to attend vpon 
her ; to Saladyne, who all this lad night could not red for the remembrance of Aliena : 
infomuch that he framed afweete conceipted fonnet to content his humour, which he 
put in his bofome : being requeded by his brother Rosader to go to Aliena and Gani- 
mede, to fignifie vnto them that his wounds were not daungerous. A more happie 
raefTage could not happen to Saladyne, that taking his Forred bil on his necke, he 
trudgeth in all had towards the plaines, where Alienaes flockes did feede : comming 
iud to the place when they returned from Montanus and Phoebe. Fortune fo con- 
du(5tcd this ioUie Forreder, that he encountred them and Coridon, whom he pre- 
fently faluted in this manner. 

Faire Shepheardeffe, and too faire, vnleffe your beautie be tempred with courtefie, 
& the liniaments of the face graced with the lowlineffe of minde : as manie good for- 
tunes to you and your Page, as your felues can defire, or I imagine. My brother 
Rosader (in the griefe of his greene wounds) dill mindfull of his friends, hath fent 
me to you with a kind falute, to (hew that he brookes his paines with the more 
patience, in that he holds the parties precious in whofe defence he receiued the pre- 
iudice. The report of your welfare, will bee a great comfort to his didempered bodie 
and didreffed thoughts, and therefore he fent mee with a dridt charge to vifite you. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE yj\ 

And you (quoth Aliena) are the more welcome in that you are meiTenger from fo 
kind a Gentleman, whofe paines we companionate with as great forrowe, as hee 
brookes them with griefe ; and his wounds breedes in vs as manie paflions, as in him 
extremities : fo that what difquiet hee feeles in bodie, wee partake in heart. Wifhing 
(if wee might) that our mifhap might falue his maladie. But feeing our wills yeelds 
him little eafe, oiu- orizons are neuer idle to the Gods for his recouerie. I pray youth 
(quoth Ganimede with teares in his eies) when the Surgeon fearcht him, helde he his 
wounds dangerous ^ Dangerous (quoth Saladyne) but not mortall : and the fooncr 
to be cured, in that his patient is not impatient of anie paines: whereuppon my 
brother hopes within thefe ten dayes to walke abroad and vifite you himfelfe. In the 
meane time (quoth Ganimede) fay his Rosalynde commends her to him and bids him 
be of good cheere. I know not (quoth Saladyne) who that Rosalynde is, but what- 
foeuer (he is, her name is neuer out of his mouth : but amidll the deeped of his paf- 
fions he vfeth Rosalynde as a charme to appeafe all forrows with patience. Infomuch 
that I conie<5^ure my brother is in loue, and (he fome Paragon that holdes his hart 
perplexed : whofe name he oft records with fighs, fometimes with teares, (Iraight with 
ioy, then with fmiles ; as if in one }>erfon Loue had lodged a Chaos of confufed paf- 
fions. Wherein I haue noted the variable difpofition of fancie, that like 
the Polype in colours, fo it changeth into fundrie humours : being as it 
(hould feeme a combate mixt with difquiet, and a bitter pleafure wrapt IV, iii, zo6 
in a fweete preiudice, like to the Sinople tree, whofe bloffomes delight 
the fmell, and whofe fruite infe<5ls the tad. By my faith (quoth Aliena) 
fir, you are deepe read in loue, or growes your infight into a(re(5lion by experience ? 
Howfoeuer, you are a great Philofopher in Venus principles, els could you not dif- 
couer her fecrete aphorifmes. But fir our countrey amours are not like your courtly 
fancies, nor is our wooing like your fuing : for poore (hepheards neuer plaine them 
till Loue paine them, where the Courtiers eyes is full of palTions when his heart is 
mod free from a(fedlion : they court to difcouer their eloquence, we wooe to eafe our 
forrowes : euerie faire face with them mud haue a new fancie fealed with a forefinger 
kiffe and a farre fetcht figh ; we heere loue one, and Hue to that one fo log as life can 
maintain loue, vfrng few ceremonies becaufe we know fewe fubtilties, and little elo- 
quence for that wee lightly accompt of flatterie : only faith and troth thats (hepfheards 
wooing, and fir howe like you of this ? So (quoth Saladyne) as I could tie my felfe 
to fuch loue. What, and looke fo low as a Shepheardeflfe, being the Sonne of Sir 
lohn of Bourdeaux : fuch defires were a difgrace to your honours. And with that 
furueying exquifitely euerie part of him, as vttering all thefe words in a deepe paf- 
fion, (he efpied the pa}>er in his bofome : whereupon growing iealous that it was fome 
amorous Sonnet, (hee fodainly fnatcht it out of his bofome, and af ked if it were any 
fecrete She was ba(hfull, and Saladyne blu(ht: which (he perceiuing fayd; Nay 
then fir, if you waxe redde, my life for yours tis fome Loue matter : I will fee your 
Midreffe name, her praifes, and your paffions. And with that (he lookt on it : which 
was written to this effeiSL 

Saladynes Sonnet 
Jf it be true that heauens etemall courfe 

With restleffe /way and ceafeUffe turning glides^ 

Jf aire inconjlant be^ and /welling faur/e 

Tume and retumes imth many fluent tides^ 

If earth in winter fummers pride estrange^ 
And Nature feemeth onely faire in change. 



372 APPENDIX 

Jf it be true that our immortaU fprighi 

Deriude from heauenly pure, in wandringftitt 

In noueltie and Jirangenefse doth delight^ 

And by di/couerent power difcemeth ill. 

And if the bodie for to worke his best 

Doth with thefeafons change his place of rtsi: 

Whence comes it that {inforst by furious Skies) 
I change both place andfoyle, but not my hartf 
Yetfaiue not in this change my maladies f 
Whence growes it that each obieifl workes my fmartl 

Alas J fee my faith procures my mifse. 

And change in hue against my nature is. 

£t florida pungmit. 

Aliena hauing read ouer his fonnet, began thus pleafantly to defcant vpom it. I 
fee Saladyne (quoth (hee) that as the Sunne is no Sunne without his brigbtneifey nor 
the diamond accounted for precious vnlefle it be hard : fo men are not men vnlefle 
they be in loue ; and their honours are meafured by their amours not their laboun^ 
counting it more commendable for a Gentleman to be full of fancie, than full of ver- 
tue. I had thought Otia fi tollas periere Cupidinis arcuSy || Contemptaq iaceni^ ^ 
fine luce faces : But I fee Quids axiome is not authentically for euen labor hath het 
loues, and extremitie is no pumice (lone to race out fancie. Your felfe exiled firom 
your wealth, friends & countrey by Torismond, (forrowes enough to fuppreffe affeiSHoiis) 
yet amidd the depth of thefe extreamities, Loue will be Lord, and (hew his power to 
bee more predominant than Fortune. But I pray you fir (if without offence I maya 
craue it) are they fome new thoughts, or fome olde defires ? Saladyne (that now £aw 
opportunitie pleafaunt) thought to (bike while the yron was bote, and therefore Pairing 
Aliena by the hand fate downe by her ; and Ganimede to giue them leaue to their Loues, 
founde her felfe bufie about the foldes, whiled Saladyne fell into this prattle with Aliena. 

Faire Midres, if I bee blunt in difcouering my affe<5lions, and vfe little eloquence 
in leuelling out my loues: I appeale for pardon to your owne principles that fay, 
Shepheards vfe few ceremonies, for that they acquaint thefelues with fewe fubtilties : 
to frame my felfe therefore to your countrey fa(hion with much faith and little flatterie, 
knowe beautifull Shepheardeffe, that whiled I liued in the court I knew not Loues 
cumber, but I held affe(5lion as a toy, not as a maladie ; vfmg fancie as the Hiperborei 
do their (lowers, which they weare in their bofome all day, and cad them in the fire 
for fuell all night. I liked al becaufe I loued none, and who was mod faire on her I 
fed mine eye : but as charely as the Bee, that affoone as (he hath fuckt honnie from 
the rofe, flies draight to the next Marigold. Liuing thus at mine owne lid, I wondred 
at fuch as were in loue, & when I read their pa(rions, I tooke them only for poems that 
flowed from the quickneffe of the wit not the forrowes of the heart But nowe (faire 
Njinph) fmce I became a Forreder, Loue hath taught me fuch a le(ron that I mud 
confefle his deitie and dignitie, and faye as there is nothing fo precious as beautie, fo 
there is nothing more piercing than fancie. For fince fird I arriued in this place, and 
mine eie tooke a curious furuey of your excellence, I haue been fo fettered with your 
beautie and vertue, as (fweet Aliena) Saladyne without further circumdance loues 
Aliena. I coulde paint out my defires with long ambages, but feeing in manie words 
lies midrud, and that trueth is euer naked ; let this fuflice for a countrey wooing, Sala- 
dyne loues Aliena, and none but Aliena. 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 373 

Althoagli Ihefe words were moil heauenly hannonie m the eares of the Shep- 
heardefle : yet to feeme coye at the firfl courting, and to difdaine Loue howfoener 
(hee defired Loue, (he made this replie. 

Ah Saladyne, though I feeme fimple, yet I am more fubtile than to fwallow the 
hook becaufe it hath a painted bait : as men are wilie fo women are warie, efpecially 
if they haue that wit by others harmes to beware. Doo wee not knowe Saladyne, 
that mens tongues are like Mercuries pipe, that can inchaunt Argus with an hundred 
eies ; and their words as preiudiciall as the charmes of Circes, that tranffourme men 
into monflers. If fuch Syrens fing, wee poore Women had neede (loppe our eares, 
lead in hearing we proue fo foolifh hardie as to beleeue them, and fo perrifli in trud- 
ing much, and fufpe<5Ung little. Saladyne, PifccUor uflus fapity he that hath been 
once poyfoned & afterwards feares not to bowfe of eoerie potion, is woorthie to fuffer 
double pennaunce. Giue me leaue then to miflrud, though I doo not condempne. 
Saladyne is now in loue with Aliena, he a Gentleman of great Parentage, (he a Shep- 
heardeffe of meane Parents ; he honourable, and (hee poore ? Can Loue confift of 
contrarieties ? Will the Fawlcon pearch with the Kidrerfe, the Lion harbour with 
the Woolfe ? Will Venus ioyne roabes and rags together S Or can there be a fim- 
pathie betweene a King and a begger. Then Saladyne how can I beleeue thee that 
loue (hould vnite our thoughts, when Fortune hath fet fuch a difference betweene our 
degrees ? But fuppofe thou liked of Alienaes beautie, men in their fiEmcie refemble 
the wafpe, which fcomes that flower from which (he hath fetcht her waxe ; playing 
like the inhabitants of the Ilande Tenerifa^ who when they haue gathered the fweete 
fpices, vfe the trees for fuel : fo men when they haue glutted themfelues with the faire 
of womens faces, holde them for nece(rarie euills ; and wearied with that which they 
feemed fo much to loue, cad away fancie as children doo their rattles ; and loathing 
that which fo deepelie before they likte, efpecially fuch as take loue in a minute, & 
haue their eyes attra<5tiue like ieate apt to entertaine anie obie(5l, are as readie to let it 
flip againe. Saladyne hearing howe Aliena harpt dill vppon one firing, which was 
the doubt of mens condancie, hee broke off her (harp inue(5liue thus. 

I graunt Aliena (quoth hee) manie men haue doone ami(re in proouing foone ripe 
and foone rotten, but particular indances inferre no generall cmicluflons : and there- 
fore I hope what others haue faulted in (hall not preiudice my fauours. I will not 
vfe fophidrie to confirme my loue, for that is fubtiltie ; nor long difcourfes, lead my 
words might bee thought more than my faith : but if this will fuffice, that by the 
honour of a Gentleman I loue Aliena, and wooe Aliena not to crop the bloffomes 
and reie(5l the tree, but to confummate my faithfull defires, in the honourable ende 
of marriage. 

At this word marriage : Aliena dood in a maze what to anfwere : fearing that if 

(he were too coye to driue him away with her difdaine ; and if fhe were too cour- 

teous to difcouer the heate of her defires. In a dilemma thus what to doo, at lad 

this flie faid. Saladyne euer flnce I faw thee, I fauoured thee, I cannot diffemble 

my defires, becaufe I fee thou dood faithfully manifed thy thoughtes, and in liking 

thee I loue thee fo farre as mine honour holdes fancie flill in fufpence : but if I knew 

thee as vertuous as thy father, or as well qualified as thy brother Rosader, the doubt 

fhoulde be quicklie decided : but for this time to giue thee an anfwere, affure thy 

felfe this, I will either marrie with Saladyne, or flill Hue a virgine : and with this 

they drained one anothers hand. Which Ganimede efpying, thinking be had had 

his Miflrcs long enough at fhrift, faid; what, a match or no^ A match (quoth 

Aliena) or els it were an ill market I am glad (quoth Ganimede) I would Rosader 
18 



374 APPENDIX 

were well here to make vp a meffe. Well remembred (quoth Saladyne) I forgot I 
left my brother Rosader alone : and therefore leaft being folitarie he Ihould increafe 
his forrowes I will hafl me to him. May it plcafe you then to commaund me anie 
feruice to him, I am readie to be a duetifull meffenger. Onely at this time commend 
me to him (quoth Aliena) & tell him, though wee cannot plcafure him we pray for 
him. And forget not (quoth Ganimcde) my commendations: but fay to him that 
Rosalynde Iheds as manie tcarcs from her heart, as he drops of bloud from bis 
wounds, for the forrow of his miffortunes ; feathering all her thoughtes with difciuiet, 
till his welfare procure her content: fay thus (good Saladyne) and fo farewell. He 
hauing his meOage, gaue a courteous adieu to them both, efpecially to Aliena: 
and fo playing loath to depart, went to his brother. But Aliena, (he perplexed 
and yet ioyfuU, pad away the day pleafauntly dill praifing the perfe<5Uon of Sala- 
dyne, not ceafmg to chat of her new Loue, till euening drew on; and then they 
folding their flieepe, went home to bed. Where we leaue them and retume to 
Phoebe. 

Phoebe fiered with the vncouth flame of loue, returned to her fathers houfe ; fo 
galled with refUefle pafTions, as now (he began to acknowledge, that as there was no 
flower fo fre(h but might bee parched with the Sunne, no tree fo (Irong but might bee 
(haken with a (lorme ; fo there was no thought fo chad, but Time armde with Loue 
could make amorous : for (hee that helde Diana for the Godde(re of her deuotion, 
was now faine to die to the Altare of Venus ; as fu])pliant now with prayers, as (he 
was froward afore with difdaine. As (he lay in her bed, (he called to minde the 
feuerall beauties of yong Ganimed, firft his locks, which being amber hued, pa(reth 
the wreathe that Phoebus puts on to make his front glorious ; his browe of yuorie, was 
like the feate where Loue and Maieftie fits inthronde to enchayne Fancie ; his eyes 
as bright as the bumilhing of the heauen, darting foorth frowncs with difdaine, and 
fmiles with fauor, lightning fuch lookes as would enflame defire, were (hee wrapt in 
the Circle of the frozen Zoane; in his cheekes the vermilion teinture of the Rofe 
flourifhed vpon naturall Alabafler, the blulh of the Mome and Lunaes filuer (howe 
were fo liuely portrayed, that the Troyan that fils out wine to lupiter was not halfe fo 
beautifull ; his face was full of pleafance, and all the red of his liniaments propor- 
tioned with fuch excellence, as Phcebe was fettred in the fweetnes of his feature. 
The Idea of thefe perfections tumbling in her minde, made the poore Shepheardrfe 
fo perplexed, as feeling a plcafure tempred with intollerable paines, and yet a dif- 
quict mixed with a confent, (he rather wi(hed to die, than to liue in this amorous 
anguifh. But wi(hing is little worth in fuch extreames, and therefore was (he ford to 
pine in her maladie, without anie falue for her forrowes. Reueale it (he durd not, 
as daring in fuch matters to make none her fecrctarie ; and to conceale it, why it 
doubled her griefe : for as fire fupprcd growes to the greater flame, and the Current 
dopt to the more violent dreame ; fo Loue fmothred wrings the heart with the deeper 
paflions. 

Perplexed thus with fundrie agonies, her foode began to faile, and the difquiet of 
her minde began to worke a didemperature of her bodie, that to be (hort Phoebe fell 
extreame ficke, and fo ficke, as there was almod left no recouerie of health. Her 
father feeing his faire Phoebe thus didred, fent for his friends, who fought by medi- 
cine to cure, and by counfaile to pacific, but all in vaine : for although her bodie was 
feeble through long fading, yet (he did magis agrotare animo quam corpore. Which 
her friends perceiued and forrowed at, but falue it they could not. 

The newes of her (ickne(re was bruted abroad thorough all the Forred : which no 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 375 

fooner came to Montanus eare, but he like a madde man came to vifite Phoebe. 
Where fitting by her bedde fide, he began his Exordium with fo manie teares and 
fighes, that (he perceiuing the extremitie of his forrowes, began now as a louer to pitie 
them, although Ganimede helde her from redrelTrng them. Montanus craued to knowe 
the caufe of her fickneffe, tempred with fecrete plaints : but fhe aunfwered him (as 
the reft) with filence, hauing ftill the forme of Ganimede in her minde, & conie(5luring 
how (hee might reueale her loues. To vtter it in words (he found herfelfe too ba(h- 
full, to difcourfe by anie friend (hee would not truft anie in her amours, to remayne 
thus perplexed ftill and conceale all, it was a double death. Whereuppon for her laft 
refuge (he refolued to write vnto Ganimede : and therefore defired Montanus to abfent 
him felfe a while, but not to depart : for (lie would fee if (he could fteale a nappe. 
He was no fooner gone out of the chamber, but reaching to her ftandi(h, (he tooke 

penne and paper, and wrote a letter to this effecfl. Phoebe to Ganimede 

wi(heth what (he wants her felfe. Faire Shepheard (and therefore is 

Phoebe infortunate becaufe thou art fo faire) although hetherto mine eies were ada- 
mants to refift Loue, yet I no fooner faw thy face but they became amorous to inter- 
taine Loue : more denoted to fancie than before they were repugnant to a(fe(5lion, 
addi(5led to the one by Nature, and drawen to the other by beautie ; which being 
rare, and made the more excellent by manie vertues, hath fo fnared the freedome of 
Phoebe, as (lie refts at thy mercie, either to bee made the moft fortunate of all Maidens, 
or the moft miferable of all Women. Meafure not Ganimede my loues by my wealth, 
nor my defires by my degrees : but thinke my thoughts are as full of faith, as thy face 
of amiable fauours. Then as thou knoweft thy felfe moft beautifull, fuppofe me moft 
conftant. If thou deemeft me hardhearted becaufe I hated Montanus, thinke I was 
forft to it by Fate : if thou faift I am kinde hearted becaufe fo lightly I loue thee at 
the firft looke, thinke I was driuen to it by Deftenie, whofe influence as it is mightie, 
fo it is not to be refifted. If my fortunes were anie thing but infortunate Loue, I 
woulde ftriue with Fortune : but he that wrefts againft the will of Venus, feekes to 
quench (ire with oyle, and to thruft out one thome by putting in another. If then 
Ganimede, Ix)ue enters at the eie, harbours in the heart, and will neither bee driuen 
out with Phificke nor reafon : pitie me, as one whofe maladie hath no falue but from 
thy fweete felfe, whofe griefe hath no eafe but through thy graunt, and thinke I am a 
Virgine, who is deepely wrongd, when I am forft to wooe : and coniedlure Loue to 
bee ftrong, that is more forceable than Nature. 

Thus diftreflfed vnle(re by thee eafed, I expecfl either to Hue fortunate by thy 
fauour, or die miferable by thy deniall. Lining in hope. Farewell. 

She that muft be thine, or not be at all. 

Phabe, 

To this Letter (he annexed this Sonnet. 

Sonnetto. 

My boaie doth pajfe the ftraights 

cf feas incenst withfire^ 
Filde with forgetfulruffe : 

amidst the winters night, 
A blinde and careleffe boy 

(brought vp by fonde defire) 
Doth guide me in thefea 

of forrow and defpight. 



376 APPENDIX 

Fwr eueru cane, ke feis 

m ramJke of fooiijh tkot^hit^ 
And cuts \inJleaJ of Toaue) 

a kcp< without dijireffe ; 
Tkt wituUs of my deepefighs 

{that thunder fiiU for ntn^kO) 
Havt fplit my fayUs withftart, 

with care, with heauinejfe, 

A mightie ftorme of teares, 

a blacke and hideous clcude, 
A thouf and fierce difdaines 

doooflacke the haleyards oft: 
Till ignorance doo pull 

and errour hale thefhrowdes 
Norftarre forfafetie fh ines, 
no Fha:he from aloft. 

Time hcdh fubdued arte, 

and ioy isflaue to woe : 

Alas {^Loues guide) be kinde\ 

whatfhall Jperifh fo ? 

This Letter and the Sonnet being ended, (he could find no fitte meflenger to lende 
it by ; and therefore (he called in Montanus, and intreated him to carrie it to Gaiu> 
mede. Although poore Montanus faw day at a little hole, and did perceiue ^irhat 
palTion pincht her : yet (that he might feeme dutifull to his Miflres in all femice) he 
difTcmbled the matter, and became a willing meflfenger of his owne Martyndome. 
And fo (taking the letter) went the next mome verie early to the Plaines ^rhere 
Aliena fed her flockes, and there bee found Ganimede fitting vnder a Pomegnmade 
tree forrowing for the hard fortunes of her Rosader. Montanus faluted him, and 
according to his charge deliuered Ganimede the letters, which (he faid) came from 
Pha;l)c. At this the wanton blufht, as beeing abafht to thinke what newes (hould 
come from an vnknowen She[)heardcfre, but taking the letters vuript the feales, and 
read oner the difcourfe of I*lioel)es fancies. When fliee had read and ouerread them, 
Ganimede began to fmile, & looking on Montanns fell into a great laughter: and with 
that called Aliena, to whom (he (hewed the writings. Who hauing perufed them, 
concci[)tcd them verie pleafantly, and fmiled to fee how Loue had yoakt her, whe 
l)cforc difdained to (lou])e to the lure, Aliena whifpering Ganimede in the eare, and 
faying ; Kncwe Phnebe what want there were in thee to perfourme her will, and how 
vnfit thy kindc is to l)ee kinde to her, (he would be more wife and leflfe enamoured: 
but Irauing that, I pray thee let vs fjwrt with this Swaine. At that worde, Gammede 
t<nirning to Montanus, Ixigan to glauncc at him thus. 

I pray tlioe toll me Shcphcard, by thofe fweet thoughts and pleafing fighes that 
grow fnnn my MiflrrfTc fauours, art thou in loue with Phoebe ? Oh my Youth, quoth 
Montanus, were Ilia'lw fo farre in loue with me, my Flockes would be more fat and 
thrlr Madrr more <|uict : for through the forrowes of my difcontent growes the lean- 
nrllr of my rtirr|K», Alas ixx>re Swaine quoth Ganimede, are thy pa(rions fo extreame 
or thy fnnrir fo rrfolutr, that no n*afon will blemi(h the pride of thy affedlion, and 
ratr out that which thou nriuc(\ for without hope? Nothing can make me forget 
I*l)irl»r, while Muntaimii forget himfclfc * for thofe charadlers which true Loue hath 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 377 

ilampedy neither the enuie of Time nor Fortune can wipe awaye. Why but Mon- 
tanus qnoth Ganimede^ enter with a deepe infight into the defpaire of thy fancies, 
and thou (halt fee the depth of thine owne follies : for (poore man) thy progreOe in 
loue is a regreffe to loffe, fwimming againft the (Ireame with the Crab, and flying 
with Apis Indica againfl winde and weather. Thou feekefl with Phoebus to winne 
Daphne, and fliee flies fader than thou cand follower thy defires foare with the 
Hobbie, but her difdaine reacheth higher than thou cand make wing. 
I tell thee Montanus, in courting Phoebe thou barked with the Wolues V, ii, xzo 
of Syria againd the Moone, and roaued at fuch a marke with thy 
thoughtes, as is beyond the pitch of thy bow, praying to Loue when Loue is pitilclie, 
and thy maladie remedileOe. For proofe Montanus read thefe letters, wherein thou 
(halt fee thy great follies and little hope. 

With that Montanus tooke them and perufed them, but with fuch forrow in his 
lookes, as they bewrayed a fourfe of confufed paHTions, in his heart : at euerie line his 
coulour changed, and euerie fentence was ended with a periode of fighes. 

At lad, noting Phoebes extreame defire toward Ganimede, and her difdaine towards 
him, giuing Ganimede the letter, the Shepheard doode as though hee had neither 
wonne nor lod. Which Ganimede perceiuing, wakened him out his drearae thus ; 
Now Montanus, dood thou fee thou vowed great feruice, and obteined but little 
reward : but in lieu of thy loyaltie, die maketh thee as Bellephoron carrie thine owne 
bane. Then drinke not willinglie of that potion wherein thou knowed is poyfon, 
creepe not to her that cares not for thee. What Montanus, there are manie as faire as 
Phoebe, but mod of all mofe courteous than Phoebe. I tell thee Shepheard, fauour is 
Loues fuell .* then fmce thou cand not get that, let the flame vanifh into fmoake, and 
rather forrow for a while than repent thee for euer. 

1 tell thee Ganimede (quoth Montanus) as they which are dung with the Scorpion, 
cannot be recouered but by the Scorpion, nor hee that was wounded with Achilles 
lance be cured but with the fame trunchion : fo Apollo was faine to crie out, that 
Loue was onely eafed with Loue, and fancie healed by no medecin but fauor. Phoebus 
had hearbs to heale all hurts but this paiTion, Cyrces had charmes for all chaunces but 
for affedlion, and Mercuric fubtill reafons to refell all griefes but Loue. Perfwafions 
are bootlelTe, Reafon lendes no remedie, G>unfaile no comfort, to fuch whome Fancie 
bath made refolute: and therefore though Phoebe loues Ganimede, yet Montanus 
mud honor none but Phoebe. 

Then quoth Ganimede, may I rightly tearme thee a defpayring Louer, that liueil 
without ioy, & loued without hope : but what (hall I doo Montanus to pleafure thee 9 
Shall I defpife Phoebe as (he difdaines thee ^ Oh (quoth Montanus) that were to 
renew my griefes, and double my forrowes : for the fight of her difcontent were the 
cenfure of my death. Alas Ganimede, though I perifh in my thoughtes, let not her 
die in her defires. Of all pafTions, Loue is mod impatient : then let not fo faire a 
creature as Phoebe finke vnder the burden of fo deepe a didreffe. Being loue ficke 
(he is prooued heart ficke, and all for the beautie of Ganimede. Thy proportion hath 
entangled her affeiftion, and (he is fnared in the beautie of thy excellence. Then fith 
(he loues thee fo deere, miflike not her deadly. Bee thou paramour to fuch a para- 
gon : (hee hath beautie to content thine eye, and flockes to enrich thy dore. Thou 
cand not wi(h for more than thou (halt winne by her : for (he is beautifull, vertuous 
and wealthie, three deepe perfwafions to make loue frolicke. Aliena feeing Montanus 
cut it againd the haire, and plead that Ganimede ought to loue Phoebe, when his 
onely life was the loue of Phoebe : anfwered him thus. Why Montanus dood thou 



378 APPENDIX 

further this motion 9 feeing if Ganimede xnarrie Phoebe thy market is clean mard. 
Ah Midres (quoth he) fo hath Loue taught mee to honour Phoebe, that I would preiu- 
dice my life to pleafure her, and die in defpaire rather tlian (he (hould p>eri(h for want. 
It (hal fuffice me to fee him contented, and to feed mine eye on her £aaour. If (he 
marrie though it be my Martyrdome : yet if (hee bee pleafed I will brooke it with 
patience, and triumph in mine owne (larres to fee her defircs fatilTied. ITierefore if 
Ganimede bee as courteous as hoc is beautifull, let him (hew his vcrtues, in redrefling 
Phoebes miferies. And this Montanus pronounfl with fuch an alTured countenance, 
that it amazed both Aliena and Ganimede to fee the refolution of his loues : fo that 
they pitied his paiTions and commended his patience ; deuifmg how they might by 
anie fubtiltie, get Montanus the fauour of Phoebe. Straight (as Womens heads are 
full of wyles) Ganimede had a fetch to force Phoebe to fancie the Shepheard Mai- 
grado the refolution of her minde hee profecuted his p>olicie thus. Montanus (quoth 
he) feeing PhoL'be is fo forlome lead I might bee couuted vnkinde, in not faluing fo 
faire a creature, I will goe with thee to Phoebe, and there heare her felfe in worde 
vtter that which fhe hath difcourd with her penne, and then as Loue wills me, I will 
fet downe my cenfure. I will home by our houfe, and fend Coridon to accompanie 
Aliena. Montanus feemed glad of this determination, and away they goe towards 
the houfe of Phoebe. When they drew nigh to the Cottage, Montanus ranne afore, & 
went in and tolde Pha'be that Ganimede was at the dore. This word Ganimede 
founding in the eares of Phoebe, draue her into fuch an extafie for joy, that riAng vp 
in her bed Hie was halfe rcuiucd, and her wan colour began to waxe red : and with 
that came Ganimede in, who faluted Phoebe with fuch a curteous looke, that it "was 
halfe a falue to her forrowes. Sitting him downe by her bed fide, hee quellioned 
about her difeafe, and where the paine chiefly helde her? Phoebe looking as louely 
as Venus in her night geere, tainting her face with as ruddie a blu(h as Clitia did 
when when (hee bewrayed her Ix)ues to Phoebus.* taking Ganimede by the hand 
began thus. Faire (hepheard, if loue were not more drong then nature, or fancie the 
fliarped extreame ; my immodedy were the more, and my vertues the leflTe : for nature 
hath framed womens eyes baflifull, their hearts full of feare, and their tongues full of 
filence : But Loue, that imperious Ix>ue, where his power is predominant, then he 
peruerts all and wredeth the wealth of nature to his owne will : an Indance in my 
felfe fayre Ganimede, for fuch afire hath he kindled in my thoughts, that to finde eafe 
for the flame, I was forced to pafTe the bounds of modedie and feeke a falue at thy 
handes for my fecret harmcs , blame mee not if I bee ouer bolde for it is thy beautie, 
and if I be too forward it is fancie, & the deepe infight into thy vertues that makes 
me thus fond. For let me fay in a word, what may be contayned in a volume, Phoebe 
loues Ganimede : at this (he held downe her head and wept, and Ganimede rofe as 
one that would fuffer no fi(h to hang on his fingers made this replie. Water not thy — 
plants Phoebe, for I doe pitie thy plaintcs, nor feeke not to difcouer thy Loues in 
tearcs : for I conie(5hire thy trueth by thy paffions : forrow is no falue for loues, nor 
fighes no remedie for afre<5Hon. Therefore frolick Phoebe, for if Ganimede can cure 
thee, doubt not of recouerie. Yet this let me fay without offence, that it greeues me 
to thwart Montanus in his fancies, feeing his defires haue ben fo refolute, and his 
thoughts fo loyall : But thou alleadged that thou art ford from him by fate ; fo I tell 
thee Phoebe either fome darre or elfe fome dedinie fits my minde rather with Adonis 
to die in chafe, than be counted a wanton in Venus knee. Although I pittie thy mar- 
tyrdome, yet I can grant no mariage ; for though 1 held thee faire, yet mine eye is not 
fettered, Loue growes not like the hearb Spattanna to his perfe(5lion in one night but 






LODGES ROSALYNDE 379 

crccpes with the fnaile, and yet at lad attaines to the top Feftiiia Letite efpecially in 
Loue: for momentarie fancies are oft times the fruites of follies: If Phoebe I ihould 
like thee as the Hiperborei do their Dates, which banquet with them in the morning 
and throw them awaie at night, my folly ftiould be great, and thy repentance more, 
Therefore I will haue time to tume my thoughts, and my Loues fhall growe vp as the 
water Crejfes, flowly but with a deepc roote. Thus Phoebe thou maift fee I difdaine 
not though I delire not, remaining indifferent till time and loue makes me refolute. 
Therefore Phoebe feeke not to fuppreffe afie(5Hon, and with the Loue of Montanus 
quench the remembrance of Ganimede, fbriue thou to hate me as I feeke to like of 
thee, and euer haue the duties of Montanus in thy minde, for I promife thee thou 
mayfl haue one more welthie but not more loyall. Thefe wordes were corafiues to 
the perplexed Phoebe, that fobbing out fighes and (Irayning out teares fhee blubbered 
out thefe wordes. 

And fhall I then haue no falue of Ganimede, but fufpence, no hope but a doubt- 
full hazard, no comfort, but bee poAed off to the will of time ^ iuflly haue the Gods 
ballanfl my fortunes, who beeing cruell to Montanus found Ganimede, as vnkinde to 
my felfe : fo in forcing him perifh for loue, I fhall die my felfe with ouermuch loue. 
I am glad (quoth Ganimede) you looke into your owne faults, and fee where your 
fhooe wrings you, meafuring now the paines of Montanns by yoiu* owne paffions. 
Truth quoth Phoebe, and fo deeply I repent me of my frowardneffe toward the Shep- 
heard, that could I ceafe to loue Ganimede, I would refolue to like Montanus. What 
if I can with reafon pcrfwade Phoebe to miflike of Ganimede, will fhe then fauour 
Montanus ? When reafon (quoth fhe) doth quench that loue that I owe to thee, then 
will I fancie him: conditionallie,.that if my loue can bee fupprefl with no reafon, as 
beeing without reafon, Ganimede wil onely wed himfelfe to Phoebe. I graunt it faire 
ShephcardefTe quoth he : and to feede thee with the fweetneffe of hope, this refolue 
on : I will neuer marrie my felfe to woman but vnto thy felfe : and with that Gani- 
mede gaue Phoebe a fruiteleffe kiffe & fuch words of comfort, that before Ganimede 
departed fhe arofe out of her bed, and made him and Montanus fuch cheere, as could 
be found in fuch a Countrcy cottage. Ganimede in the midfl of their banquet re- 
hearfmg the promifes of either in Montanus fauour, which highly plcafed the Shep- 
hearde. Thus all three content, and foothed vp in hope, Ganimede tooke his Icaue 
of his Phoebe & departed, leaning her a contented woman, and Montanus highly 
pleafed. But poore Ganimede, who had her thoughtes on her Rosader, when fhe 
calde to remembrance his wounds, filde her eyes full of teares, and her heart full of 
forrowes, plodded to finde Aliena at the Foldes, thinking with her prcfence to driue 
away her pafTions. As fhe came on the Plaines, fhe might efpie where Rosader and 
Saladyne fate with Aliena vnder the fhade : which fight was a falue to her griefe, and 
fuch a cordiall vnto her heart, that fhe tript alongfl the Ijiwnes full of ioy. 

At lafl Coridon who was with them fpied Ganimede, and with that the Clowne 
rofe, and running to meete him cried. Oh firha, a match, a match, our Miflres fhall 
be maried on Sunday. Thus the poore peafant frolickt it before Ganimede, who 
comming to the crue faluted them all, and efpecially Rosader, faying that hee was 
glad to fee him fo well recouered of his wounds. I had not gone abroade fo foone 
quoth Rosader, but that I am bidden to a marriage, which on Sunday next mufl bee 
folempnized betweene my brother and Aliena. 1 fee well where Loue leades delay 
is loath fome, and that fmall wooing femes, where both the parties are willing. Truth 
quoth Ganimede : but a happie day fhould it be, if Rosader that day might be mar- 
ried to Rosalynde. Ah good Ganimede (quoth he) by naming Rosalynde renue not 



38o APPENDIX 

my forrowes : for the thought of her perfe<5lioiis, is the thrall of my miferies. Tnlh, 
bee of good cbeere man quoth Ganimede, I haue a friend that is deeply «xperien(i in 
Negromancie and Mogicke, what arte can doo fhall bee a(5led for thine aduantage : I 
will caufe him to bring in Rosalynde, if either France or anie bordering Nation har- 
bour her ; and vpjx>n that take the faith of a young Shepheard. Aliena fmilde to fee 
how Rosadcr frownde, thinking that Ganimede had iefled with him. But breakii^ 
off from thofe matters, the Page (fomewhat pleafant) began to difcoorfe vnto them 
what had pafl betweenc him and Phoel)e : which as they laught, fo they wondred at ; 
all confelTmg, that there is none fo chad but Loue will change. Thus they pafl away 
the day in chat, and when the Sunne began to fet, they tooke their leaues and 
departed : Aliena prouiding for their marriage day fuch folempne cheere and hand- 
fome roabes as fitted their countrey eflate, & yet fomewhat the better, in that Rosader 
had promifed to bring Gerismond thether as a gued. Ganimede (who then meant to 
difcouer her felfe before her father, had made her a gowne of greene, and a kirtle of 
the fineil fendall, in fuch fort that (he feemed fome heauenly Njrmph harboored m 
Countrey attire. 

Saladyne was not behind in care to fet out the nuptials, nor Rosader ynmindfull to 
bid guefls, who inuited Gerismond and all his Followers to the Feafl : who willinglye 
graunted ; fo that there was nothing but the daye wanting to this marriage. In the 
meaue while, Phoebe being a bidden guefl, made her felfe as goi^ous as might be to 
pleafe the eye of Ganimede ; and Montanus futed himfelfe with the cod of manj of 
his flocks to be gallant againd that day ; for then was Ganimede to giue Phcebe an 
anfwere of her loues, and Montanus either to heare the doome of his miferie, or the 
cenfure of his happinelTe. But while this geare was a bruing, Phoebe pafl not one 
day without vifiting hir Ganimede, fo farre was (hee wrapt in the beauties of this 
louely Swaine. Much prattle they had, and the difcourfe of manie paffions, Phoebe 
wifhing for the daye (as (hee thought) of her welfare, and Ganimede fmiling to thinke 
what vnexpe(5led euents would fall out at the wedding. In thefe humours the weeke 
went away, that at lad Sundaye came. 

No fooner did Phoebus Hench man appeare in the Skie, to giue warning that his 
maders horfes (houlde bee trapt in his glorious couch, but Coridon in his holiday fate 
meruailous feemely, in a rufTet iacket welted with the fame, and faced with red 
worded, hauing a paire of blew chamlct lleeues, bound at the wreds with foare yeolow 
laces, clofed afore verie richly with a dofTen of pewter buttons : his hofe was of gray 
karfie, with a large flop bard ouerthwart the pocket holes with three fair gards, ditcbt 
of either fide with red thred, his dock was of the own fewed clofe to his breech, and 
for to beautefie his hofe, he had trud himfelf round with a dofen of new thredden 
points of medley coulour : his bonnet was greene whereon dood a copper brooch with 
the pi(5lure of Saint Denis : and to want nothing that might make him amorous in lus 
olde dayes, he had a fa3rre fhyrt band of fine lockram, whipt ouer with Couentrey 
blew, of no fmall cod. 

Thus attired, Coridon bedird himfelfe as chiefe dickler in thefe a<5lions, and had 
drowed all the houfe with flowers, that it feemed rather fome of Floraes choyoe 
bowers, than anie Countrey cottage. 

Thether repaired Phoebe with all the maides of the forred to fet out the bride in the 
mod feemelied fort that might be : but howfoeuer (he helpt to pranke out Aliena, yet 
her eye was dill on Ganimede, who was fo neate in a fute of gray, that he feemed 
Endymion when hee won Luna with his lookes, or Paris when he plaide the Swaine 
to get the beautie of the Nymph Oenone. Ganimede like a prettie Page waited cm 



LODGE'S ROSALYNDE 381 

his MKlreffe Aliena, 8nd ouerlookt that a1 was in a readinefle againft the Bridegroome 
Ihoulde come. Who attired in a Forreflers fute came accompanied with Gerismond 
and his brother Rosader early in the morning ; where arriued, they were folempnlie 
entertained by Aliena and the red of the Countrey Swaines, Gerismond verie highly com- 
mending the fortunate choyce of Saladyne, in that had chofen a ShepheardelTe, whofe 
vertues appeared in her outward beauties, being no leffe faire than feeming modefl. 

Ganimede comming in and feeing her Father began to blu(h, Nature working 
affe<5b by her fecret effe(5ls : fcarce could (he abdaine from teares to fee her Father in 
fo lowe fortunes : he that was wont to fit in his royall Pallaice, attended on by twelue 
noble peeres, now to be contented with a fimple Cottage, and a troupe of reuelling 
Woodmen for his traine. The confideration of his fall, made Ganimede full of for- 
rowes : yet that fliee might triumph ouer Fortune with patience, and not anie way 
dafh that merrie day with her dumpes, ftiee fmothercd her melancholy with a Ihad- 
dow of mirth : and verie reuerently welcommed the King, not according to his former 
degree, but to his prefent edate, with fuch diligence, as Gerismond began to com- 
mend the Page for his exquifite perfon, and excellent qualities. 

As thus the King with his Forreflers frolickt it among the (hepheards, Coridon 
came in with a faire mazer full of Sidar, and prefented it to Gerismond with fuch a 
clownifh falute, that he began to fraile, and tooke it of the old Ihepheard verie kindly, 
drinking to Aliena and the red of her faire maides, amongd whom Phoebe was the 
formod. Aliena pledged the King, and drunke to Rosader : fo the carrowfe went 
round from him to Phoebe, &c. As they were thus drinking and readie to goe to 
Church, came in Montanus apparailed all in tawney, to fignifie that he was forfaken ; on 
his head he wore a garland of willowe, his bottle hanged by his fide whereon was painted 
defpaire, and on his (heephooke hung two fonnets as labels of his loues & fortunes. 

Thus attired came Montanus in, with his face as full of griefe, as his heart was of 
forrowes, (hewing in his countenance the map of extremities. Affoone as the Shep- 
heards faw him, they did him all the honour they could, as being the flower of all the 
Swaines in Arden : for a bonnier boy was there not feene fince the wanton Wag of 
Tray that kept fheep in Ida. He feeing the king, and gefling it to be Gerismond, 
did him all the reuerence his countrey curtefie could affoord. Infomuch that the 
King wondring at his attire, began to quedion what he was. Montanus ouerhearing 
him made this replie. 

I am fir quoth he Loues Swaine, as full of inward difcontents as I feeme fraught 
with outward follies. Mine eyes like Bees delight in fweete flowers, but fucking 
their full on the faire of beautie, they carrie home to the Hiue of my heart farre more 
gall than honnie, and for one droppe of pure dcaw, a tunne full of deadly Aconiton, 
I hunt with the Flie to purfue the Eagle, that flying too nigh the Sunne, I perifh with 
the Sunne : my thoughts are aboue my reach, and my defires more than my fortunes ; 
yet neither greater than my I^ues. But daring with Phaeton, I fall with Irarus, and 
feeking to pafTe the meane, I dye [for being fo mean, ray night fleeps are waking 
flombers, as full of forrowes as they be far from refl, & my dayes labors are fruitleffe 
amors, daring at a flar and dombling at a draw, leaning reafon to follow after repent- 
ance : yet euery pafTion is a pleafure thogh it pinch, becaufe loue hides his worme- 
feed in flgs, his poyfons in fweet potions, & fhadows preiudize with the mafke of 
pleafure. The wifed counfellers are my deep difcontents, and I hate that which 
fhould falue my harm, like the patient which dung with the Tarantula loaths mufick, 
and yet the difeafe incurable but by melody. Thus (Sir) redlefle I hold my felfe 
remediles, as louing without either reward or regard, and yet louing, bicaufe there is 



382 APPENDIX 

none worthy to be loued, but the miftrefTe of my thoughts. And that I am as ftill of 

paflions as I haue difcourfl in my plaintes, Sir if you pleafe fee my Sonnets, and by 

them cenfure of my forrowes. 

Thefe wordes of Montanus brought the king into a great wonder, amazed as much 

at his wit as his attire : infomuch that he tooke the papers off his hooke, and read 

them to this effeifl. 

Montanus firft Sonnet. 

Ahts hew wander I amid/i thefe woods. 

Whereas no day bright Jhine dothfinde acceffi : 

But where the melancholy fleeting floods 

(Darke as the night) my night of woes exprejfe, 

Difarmde of reafon^fpoilde of natures goods. 

Without redreffe tofalue my heauineffe 

I walke, whilest thought [too cruell to my harmes) 
With endles grief my heedles iudgement charmes. 

My ftlent tongue affailde by fecret feare, 

My traitrous eyes imprifoned in their ioy. 

My fatall peace deuourd infained cheare. 

My heart inforfl to harbour in annoy. 

My reafon robde of power by yeelding eare. 

My fond opinions flaue to euery toy. 

Oh Loue thou guide in my vncertaine way. 
Woe to thy bow, thy fire, the caufe of my decay, 

£t florida pungunt. 

When the King had read this Sonnet, he highly commended the deuice of the 
fhepheard, that could fo wittily wrap his paffions in a (haddow, and fo couertly com- 
ceale that which bred his chiefell difcontent: affirming, that as the lead (hnibs hane« 
their tops, the fmalled haires their (hadowes : fo the meaneft fwaines had their fan- 
cies, and in their kynde were as charie of Loue as a King. Whetted on with this 
deuice, he tooke the fecond and read it : the effe(5ls were thefe. 

Montanus fecond Sonnet. 
When the Dog 
Full of rage. 

With his irefull eyes 

Frownes amidfl thefkies 
The Shepheard to affwage 

The fury of the heat, 

Himfelfe doth fafely feat 
By a fount 
Full of fair e. 

Where a gentle breath 

[Mounting from beneath) 
Tempreth the aire. 
There his flocks 
Drinke their fill. 

And with eafe repofe 

Whilest fweet fleep doth clofe 
Eyes from toylfome ill. 




LODGES ROSALYNDE 383 

But J bume 
Without reft. 

No defen/ttu power 

Shields from Phoebes lower: 
Sorrow is my best. 
Gentle Loue 
Lowre no more. 

If thou wilt inuade^ 

In the fecret fhade^ 
Labour not fo fore. 
I myfelfe 
And my flocks 

They their loue to pUafe^ 

I myfelfe to eafe. 
Both leaue thefhadie oakes : 

Content to bume in fire 

Saith Lone dothfo deftre, 

Et florida pungimt. 

Gerismond feeing the pithy vaine of thofe Sonets, began to make further enquiry 
what hee was ^ Whereupon ^osader difcourft vnto him the loue of Montanus to 
Phoebe, his great loialtie & her deep crueltie : and how in reuenge the Gods had 
made the curious Nymph amorous of yoong Ganimede. Vpon this difcourfe, y« king 
was defirous to fee Phoebe / who being broght before Gerismond by Rosader, (had* 
owed the beauty of her face with fuch a vermilion teinture, that the Kings eyes began 
to dazle at the puritie of her excellence. After Gerismond had fed his lookes a 
while vpon her faire, he queflioned with her, why (he rewiu-ded Montanus loue with 
fo little regard, feeing his defertes were many, and his pafTions extreame. Phoebe to 
make reply to the Kings demaund, anfwered thus : Loue (Hr) is charitie in his lawes, 
and whatfoeuer hee fets downe for iuftice (bee it neuer fo vniuft) the fentence cannot 
be reuerfl .* womens fancies lende fauours not euer by defert, but as they are infoHl 
by their defires : for fancy is tied to the wings of Fate, and what the ilarres decree, 
(lands for an infallible doome. I know Montanus is wife, & womens ears are greatly 
delighted with wit, as hardly efcaping the charme of a pleafant toong, as Vlisses the 
melody of the Syrens. Montanus is bewtifulj, and womens eyes are fnared in the 
excellence of obie(5ls, as defirous to feede their lookes with a faire face, as the Bee to 
fuck on a fweet floure. Montanus is welthy, and an oimce of giue me perfwades a 
woman more than a pound of heare me. Danae was won with a golden (hower, 
when (he could not be gotten with all the intreaties of lupiter .* I tell you fir, the 
firing of a womans heart reacheth to the pulfe of her hand, and let a man rub that 
with gold, & tis hard but (he wil prooue his hearts gold. Montanus is yoong, a great 
claufe in fancies court : Montanus is vertuous, the riched argument that Loue yeelds : 
& yet knowing all thefe perfe<5lions I praife them, and wonder at them, louing the 
qualities, but not a(re<5ling the perfon, becaufe the Dedenies haue fet downe a con- 
trary cenfure. Yet Venus to ad reuenge, hath giue me wine of y« fame grape, a fip 
of the fame fauce, & firing me with the like pa(riO, hath croft me with as il a penance : 
for I am in loue with a (hepheards fwaine, as coy to mee as I am cruel to Montanus, 
as peremptory in difdain as I was pemerfe in defire, & that is (quoth (he) Alienaes 
page, yong Ganimede. 



384 APPENDIX 

Gerismond defirous to profecute the ende of thefe ptffions, called in Ganimede .* 
who knowing the cafe, came in graced with fuch a blufli, as heautiBed the Chriflall 
of his face with a ruddie brightnefle. The King noting well the phifnomy of Gani- 
mede^ began by his fauours to cal to mind the face of his Rosalynd, and with that 
fetcht a deepe figh. ^osader that was paHing familiar with Gerismond, demanded 
of him why he fighed fo fore ^ Becaufe ^osader (quoth hec) the fauour of Gani- 
mede puts mee in minde of Rosalynde. At this word, Rosader fight fo deepely as 
though his heart would haue burfl. And whats the matter (quoth Gerismond) that 
you quite mee with fuch a figh ^ Pardon mee fir (quoth Rosader) becaufe I loue 
none but ^osalynd. And vpon that condition (quoth Gerismond) that ^osalynd were 
here, I would this day make vp a marriage betwixt her and thee. At this Aliena 
tumd her head and fmilde vpon Ganimede, and (hee could fcarce keep countenance. 
Yet fliee falued all with fecrecie, and Gerismond to driue away fuch dumpes, quef- 
tioned with Ganimede, what the reafon was he regarded not Phoebes loue, feeing (he 
was as faire as the wantO that brought Troy to mine. Ganimede mildly anfwered. 
If I (huld affecfl the fair Phoebe, I (hould offer poore Montanus great wrong to winne 
that from him in a moment, that hee hath labored for fo many monthes. Yet haue I 
promifed to the bewtiful (hepheardeHe, to wed my felf neuer to woman except vnto 
her : but with this promise, y' if I can by reafon fuppreffe Phoebes loue towards me, 
(he (hall like of none but of Montanus. To y' q. Phoebe I (land, for my loue is (b 
far beyond reafon, as it wil admit no perfuafion of reafon. For iuftice q. he, I appealo 
to Gerismond : and to his cenfure wil I (land q. Phoebe. And in your ▼idloiy q. 
Montanus (lands the hazard of my fortunes : for if Ganymede go away with conqneft, 
Montanus is in conceit loues Monarch, if Phoebe winne, then am I in effe(5l mod mif> 
erable. We wil fee this controuerfie q. GerismOd, & then we will to church : there- 
fore Ganimede let vs heare your argument. Nay, pardon my abfence a while (quoth 
(hee) and you (hall fee one in (lore. In went Ganimede, and dred her felf in womans 
attire, hauing on a gowne of greene, with kirtle of rich fandall, fo quaint, that (he 
feemed Diana triumphing in the Forred : vpon her head (he wore a chaplet of Rofes, 
which gaue her fuch a grace, y' (he looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of all hir 
fioures. Thus attired came Rosalind in, & prefented her felf at her fathers feete, 
with her eyes full of teares, crauing his ble(rmg, & difcourfing vnto him all her for- 
times, how (hee was banifiied by Torismond, and how euer fince (he lined in that 
country difguifed. 

Gerismond feeing his daughter, rof^ from his feat & fel vpon her necke, vtteringr 
the pa(rions of his ioy in watry plaints driuen into fuch an extafie of content, that hee 
could not vtter one word. At this fight, if Rosader was both amazed & ioyfiill, I 
refer my felfe to the iudgement of fuch as haue experience in loue, feeing his Rosa- 
lynd before his face whom fo long and deeply he had affe(5led. At lad Gerismond 
recouered his fpirites, and in mod fatherly tearmes entertained his daughter ^osa- 
lynd, ader many quedions demanding of her what had pad betweene her and Rosa- 
der. So much fir (quoth (he) as there wants nothing but your Grace to make vp the 
marriage. Why then (quoth Gerismond) Rosader take her, fhee is thine, and let this 
day folcmnize both thy brothers and thy nuptials, Rosader beyond meafure cOtent, 
humbly thanked the king, & imbraced his Rosalynde, who turning to Phoebe, de- 
manded if (he had (hewen fu(ficient reafon to fuppreffe the force of her loues. Yea 
quoth Phoebe, & fo great a perfwafiue, that if it pleafe you Madame and Aliena to 
giue vs leaue, Montanus and I will make this day the thirde couple in marriage. She 
had no fooner fpake this word, but Montanus, threw away his garland of willow, his 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 385 

bottle, where was painted difpaire, & cafl his fonnets in the fire, (hewing himfelfe as 
frolicke as Paris when he hanfeled his lone with Helena. At this Gerismond and the 
red fmiled, and concluded that Montanus and Phoebe fhould keepe their wedding 
with the two brethren. Aliena feeing Saladjrne Aand in a dumpe, to wake him from 
his dreame began thus. Why how now my Saladyne, all a mort, what melancholy 
man at the day of marriage ^ perchaunce thou art forrowfull to thinke on thy brothers 
high fortunes, and thyne owne bafe defires to chufe fo raeane a (hepheardize. Cheare 
vp thy hart man, for this day thou (halt bee married to the daughter of a King : for 
know Saladyne, I am not Aliena, but Alinda the daughter of thy mortal enemie Toris- 
mond. At this all the company was amazed, efpecially Gerismond, who rifmg vp, 
tooke Alinda in his armes, and faid to ^osalynd : is this that faire Alinda famous for 
fo many vertues, that forfoke her fathers court to Hue with thee exilde in the country ? 
The fame q. ^osalynde. Then quoth Gerismond, turning to Saladine, iolly Forrefter 
be frolick, for thy fortunes are great, & thy defires excellent, thou haft got a princeffe 
as famous for her perfedlion, as exceeding in proportion. And (he hath with her 
beauty won (quoth Saladyne) an humble feruant, as full of faith, as (he of amiable 
fauour. While euery one was amazed with thefe Comicall euentes, Coridon came 
fkipping in, & told them that the Prieft was at Church and tarried for their comming. 
With that Gerismond led the way, & the reft followed, where to the admiration of all 
the countrey fwains in Arden^ their mariages were (olemnly folemnized. As foone as 
the Prieft had finifhed, home they went with Alinda, where Coridon had made all 
things in readines. Dinner was prouided, & the tables being fpread, and tlie Bridea 
fet downe by Gerismond, Rosader, Saladyne, & Montanus that day were feruitors : 
homely cheare thay had, fuch as their country could affoord : but to mend their fare 
they had mickle good chat, and many difcourfes of their loues and fortunes. About 
mid dinner, to make them mery Coridon came in with an old crowd, and plaid them 
a fit of mirth, to which he fung this pleafant fong. 

Coridons Song. 
A blyth and bonny country LaffCy 

heigh ho the bonny Lajfe : 
Satefighing on the tender graffe^ 

and weeping faid^ will none come woo me ? 
A fmicker boy^ a lyther Swaine^ 

heigh ho a fmicker Swaine : 
Thai in his Loue was wanton faine^ 

withfmiling looks Jlraight came vnto her, 

fVhen as the wanton wench efpide^ 

heigh ho when/he espide 
The meanes to make her/elfe a bride, 

Jhe ftmpred fmooth like bonny bell: 
The Swaine that f aw her f quint eied kind 

heigh ho /quint eyed kind. 
His armes about her body twind, 

and /aire Laffe^ ho^v /are ye, wellt 

The country kit /aid well /or/oath, 

heigh ho well/or/ooth. 
But that I haue a longing tooth, 

a longing tooth that makes me crie: 
as 



386 APPENDIX 

Alas /aid he what garres thy grief e f 

heigh ho what garres thy griefe f 
A w<mnd quoth Jhe without reliefer 

Ifeare a maid that IJhall die. 

If that be all the fhepheard faid 

heigh ho the fhepheard faid^ 
lie make thee wiue it gentle maide^ 

andfo recure thy maladie. 
Hereon they kist with manie a oath^ 

heigh ho with manie a oath^ 
And fore God Pan did plight their troath, 

and to the Church they hied them fast. 

And God fend euerie pretie peate 

heigh ho the pretie peate 
Thatfeares to die of this conceate^ 
fo kinde a friend to helpe at last, 

Coridon hauing thus made them merrie : as they were in the midA of all their 
ioUitie, word was brought in to Saladyne and Rosader, that a brother of theirs, one 
Fernandyne was arriued, and defired to fpeake with them. Gerismond ouer hearing 
this newes, demaunded who it was ? It is fir (quoth Rosader) our middle brother, 
that lyues a Scholler in Paris : but what fortune hath driuen him to feek vs out I 
know not. With that Saladyne went and met his brother, whom he welcommed with 
all curtefie, and Rosader gaue him no lefTe friendly entertainment : brought hee 
by his two brothers into the parlour where they al fate at dinner. Fernandyne 
one that knewe as manie manners as he could points of fophiflrie, & was afwell 
brought vp as well lettered, faluted them all. But when hee efpied Gerismond, 
kneeling on his knee he did him what reuerence belonged to his eflate : and with 
that burft foorth into thefe fpeaches. Although (right mightie Prince) this day of my 
brothers manage be a day of mirth, yet time craues another courfe : and therefore 
from daintie cates rife to fliarpe weapons. And you the fonnes of Sir lohn of BouT' 
deaux^ leaue off your amors & fall to armes, change your loues into lances, and now 
this day (hewe your felues as valiant, as hethertoo you haue been paffionate. For 
know Gerismond, that hard by at the edge of this forreft the twelue Peeres of France 
are vp in Armes to recouer thy right ; and Torisihond troupt with a crue of defperate 
runnagates is ready to bid them battaile. The Armies are readie to ioyne : therfore 
(hew thy felfe in the field to encourage thy fubiecfU ; and you Saladyne & Rosader 
mount you, and (hewe your felues as hardic fouldiers as you haue been heartie louers : 
fo (hall you for the benefite of your Countrey, difcouer the Idea of your fathers ver- 
tues to bee (lamped in your thoughts, and proue children worthie of fo honourable a 
parent. At this alarum giuen by Fernandyne, Gerismond leapt from the boord, and 
Saladyne and Rosader betook themfelues to their weapons. Nay quoth Gerismond, 
goe with me I haue horfe and armour for vs all, and then being well moimted, let vs 
(hew that we carrie reuenge and honour at our fawchions points. Thus they leaue 
the Brides full of forrow, efpecially Alinda, who defired Gerismond to be good to her 
father : he not returning a word becaufe his had was great, hied him home to his 
Lodge, where he deliuered Saladyne and Rosader horfe and armour, and himfelfe 
armed royally led the way : not hauing ridden two leagues before they difcouered 



^ 



LODGES ROSALYNDE 387 

where in a Valley both the battailes were ioyned. Gerismond feeing the wing 
wherein the Peeres fought, thruft in there, and cried Saint Denis, Gerismond laying 
on fuch loade vppon his enemies, that hee (hewed how highly he did eftimate of a 
Crowne. When the Peeres perceiued that their lawfull King was there, they grewe 
more eager : and Saladyne and Rosader fo behaued themfelues that none durfl (land 
in their way, nor abide the furie of their weapons. To be (hort, the Peeres were 
conquerours, Torismonds armie put to flight, and himfelfe flaine in battaile. The 
Peeres then gathered themfelues together, and faluting their king, condu(5led him 
royallie into Faris, where he was receiued with great ioy of all the citizens. A(roone 
as all was quiet and he had receiued againe the Crowne, hee fent for Alinda and 
Rosalynde to the Court, Alinda being verie pa(rionate for the death of her father : 
yet brooking it with the more patience, in that (he was contented with the welfare of 
her Saladyne. Well, affoone as they were come to Paris ^ Gerismond made a royall 
Feaft for the Peeres and Lords of his Lande, which continued thirtie dayes, in which 
time fummoning a Parliament, by the consent of his Nobles he created Rosader heire 
apparant to the kingdom he reAored Saladyne to all his fathers lande, and gaue him 
the Dukedome of iVbm^Mrj, he made Femandyne principall Secretarie to hhnfelfe; 
and that P'ortune might euerie way feeme frolicke, he made Montanus Lord ouer all 
the Forred of Arden : Adam Spencer Captaine of the Kings Gard, and Coridon 
Master of Alindas Flocks. 



Here Gentlemen may you fee in Euphues golden Legacie^ that fuch as neglect 
their fathers precepts, incurre much preiudice ; that diuifion in Nature as it is a blem> 
ish in nurture, so tis a breach of good fortunes ; that vertue is not measured by birth 
but by acflion ; that yonger bretheren though inferiour in yeares, yet may be superiour 
to honours : that concord is the fweeted concluTion, and amitie betwixt brothers more 
forceable than fortune. If you gather any frutes by this Legacie, fpeake well of 
Euphues for writing it, and me for fetching it If you grace me with that fauour, 
you encourage me to be more forward : and a(roone as I haue ouerlookt my labours, 
expect the Sailers Kalender, 

T. Lodge. 



388 APPENDIX 

DURATION OF THE ACTION 

In Othello and in The Merchant of Venice of this edition, Shakespeare's remark- 
able, artistic management of Time in The Duration of the Action is duly noted and 
set forth. In Othello the requirements of the Tragedy demand the utmost haste; 
there must bo given to the Moor and to Desdemona not a chance for mutual expla- 
nations, the blow must fall swift as lightning in the coUied night, and yet before our 
eyes the show of a slow and reluctant growth of jealousy must gradually pass, and 
every faint unfolding of the passion be presented. Accordingly, when Desdemona is 
murdered within thirty-six hours after her arrival in Cyprus, Shakespeare's art has 
induced the belief that her ill-starred career has been watched by us for weeks and 
months. 

Again, in The Merchant of Venice I endeavored to show that the term of a Bond 
for three months is made to nm its full course within twenty-four hours after it is 
signed and sealed, and yet so consummate and so potent is Shakespeare's art that this 
monstrous absurdity is enacted before our very eyes without our being aware of it; on 
the contrary, it all seems as natural as if we had watched month by month the slow 
flight of time, and marked the smug Anthonio slowly change into the haggard bank- 
rupt. This is no chance effect, no happy accident, in these two plays alone, but this 
same legerdemain deals with the time, or the duration of the action, in As You Liki 
It also. (I noticed it cursorily in the Preface to Hamlet ^ as also true of that play.) 
That it is pure, genuine, cunningly devised and constructed art, and not hap-hazard 
chance, we know, because we can by close examination detect the steps whereby 
the end is gained, we can trace out and spell the syllables of the charm by which 
the mighty Magician sways our moods and makes us think we count the hours 
we do not. It is, however, by careful scrutiny alone that we can wring the secret 
from these plays; we need not hope to do it while they are acted before us on 
the stage. Then it is, as Christopher North says, that *■ a good-natured Juggler has 

* cheated our eyes. We ask him to show us how he did it. He does the trick 

* slowly, — and we see. " Now, good Conjurer, do it slowly and cheat us." " I 
* " can't. I cheat you by doing it, qjiickly. To be cheated you must not see what 
*"I do; but you must thinh that you see." When we inspect the Play in our 
'closets, the Juggler does his trick slowly. We sit at the Play, and he docs it 

* quick.* 

This * trick ' is Shakespeare's art in dealing with Time. By one series of allusions 
to time we are either hurried forward with that speed which is an essential element 
of dramatic action, or else the past is brought vividly before us as the present; by 
another series we are thrust back, Time's foot is made inaudible and noiseless, the 
present recedes and we hear only echoes from the past ; and then before us slowly 
and deliberately unfolds the gradual growth of character. 

Although from the very nature of the plot this dual treatment of time does not 
enter as largely into As You Like It ?& \n the other plays which I have mentioned, 
yet Shakespeare's artistic dealing with it may be traced as distinctly here as else- 
where. But in order to appreciate the need in this play of any such use of dual 
time, let me first very briefly note the dramatic treatment of the plot and mark the 
development of an idea, which I shall not call * central,* lest I be understood as inti- 
mating that this delightful comedy is that thing of shreds and patches, a ' tendenz- 

* drama,' a drama with a purpose, — and yet this idea comes in as a motive for much 
of the action. Other motives there are which modify the action, but in order to see 




DURATION OF THE ACTION 389 

the need of this dual time I wish to regard as one of the main springs Marlowe's 
* saw of might : " Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ?'* * 

I^t us suppose, then, that this *■ love at first sight ' is to be treated dramatically. 
We must see its first flash, then mark its slow and steady confirmation, and, finally, 
its triumph. This love is to be pure, absolute, boundless both in the maa and in the 
woman. Orlando is to fall in love with Rosalind's *■ heavenly ' beauty, and Rosalind 
is to fall in love with Orlando's manly strength and physical prowess. This strength 
and this prowess can be shown best by contrast. Hence a wrestling match with the 
professional champion of the land. But wrestling with a professional champion is 
hardly the sport for a gentleman. Hence Orlando is to be of gentle birth, but tem{X)- 
rarily abased. A father's authority carries with it so much respect that were Orlando 
thus degraded by his father, he could not but fall somewhat in our estimation. Hence 
Orlando, who has been decidedly a favorite of his father's, is now degraded unjustly, 
and only for a time, by a cruel elder brother. If this play were to be a tragedy, this is 
the point where the circumstances must be devise^which are to make the loves of the 
young couple ill-starred, and raise an almost insurmoxmtable barrier between the lovers; 
but as it is tc be a comedy, a sufficient obstruction will be found in the degradation of 
the lover, — a degradation which had to be, but which while it lasts will effectually debar 
Orlando from wooing the high-bom Rosalind. Hence they must both be made to meet 
where the distinctions of rank are obliterated. It is not a difficult problem to drive 
off Orlando to the Forest of Arden. But how to get Rosalind there ? It is no easy 
matter to drive from court an innocent, guileless young girl so that not the faintest 
stain shall attach to her name. Of course it cannot be for any actual misdeed, but 
only on suspicion, — suspicion absolutely groundless, but fostered by one who is power- 
ful enough to drive her forth. Here, again, for the same reason as in Orlando's case, 
it must not be a father who banishes her ; this would partake of tragedy. Hence it is 
an uncle who e?(iles her, and the only suspicion, absolutely groundless, under which 
an artless, innocent young girl could fall would be that of treachery against the 
throne. This could be aroused only in the breast of one who felt his claim to the 
throne to be unjust, and whose usurped position he imagined to be so insecure that a 
slight, frail girl could disseat him. Hence the peremptory sentence of banishment 
pronounced on Rosalind by a most suspicious usurping uncle. The flight of Gany- 
mede and Aliena follows, and as naturally follows the flight of Orlando from his 
ruthless elder brother, and in the Forest of Arden the course of love can flow on 
without a ripple. The most difficult problem of the dramatist is now solved. A 
knot which seemed too intrinse to unloose has been untied. And be it observed 
most especially that the suspicion felt by the usurping Duke is, in that solution, a 
most important, a most vital, indeed, a most indispensable, element Without it 
Rosalind could never have been sent to Arden in doublet and hose. It is com- 
paratively easy for a dramatist to send a man, disguised or undisguised, to the ends 
of the earth, but for a lovely young girl to be sent forth disguised in man's apparel, 
without the faintest forfeiture of our respect, this is the labor, this the toil. And her 
uncle's suspicion is, of all others, the potent factor to effect this. 

However stirring may have been the action before we reach the Forest of Arden, 
as soon as we have entered within that * immortal umbrage * where no care comes, 
there must be a calm, — the calm of a long settled repose. 

Of course we all know that Shakespeare found the leading features of this story 
made to his hand in Lodge's Novel, if not (which I think quite likely) in some weak- 
ling drama that he remodelled. But then he it was who discerned the dramatic 



390 APPENDIX 

capabilities of the Novel or of the play, and how fold on fold the drama must dis- 
close probabilities in a natural secjuence. It is in his dealing with this sequence that 
we can mark his treatment of Time, and, perchance, discover why the necessity was 
imposed on him of offering us here a ' fair enchanted cup.' 

It is to help in the discovery of Shakespeare's *two clocks' that I have just 
exposed, in rude, rough style, the framework of the play, wherein it now remains to 
note the allusions to time past, or to time present, which are interwoven. 

When the play opens it is necessary that the senior Duke's banishment should be 
recent, so recent that the usurping Duke feels his grasp of the sceptre most insecure. 
Time can have given to the traitor no prescriptive right. * \Vhat is the new news at 
the new court V asks Oliver. * There's no news,' answers Charles, * but the old news : 
that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother, the new Duke, and three or 
four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him.' The impression 
here conveyed is clear enough. The banishment is spoken of almost in the present 
tense. And if the news is called ' old,' it may be so called on the assumption that 
its limit of life is nine days. At any rate, it is not so * old ' but that the * younger 
brother ' is called the *■ new Duke,' and the report of the banishment has not yet had 
time (and such news travels fast) to reach Oliver in all its details. Oliver's resi- 
dence cannot be far removed from the ducal court, the wrestling match was quite in 
bis neighborhood, and yet Oliver neither knows where the banished Duke has gone, 
nor whether Rosalind has accompanied her father. * She is at the court,' Charles 
informs him, ' and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter.' *■ Where 
will the old Duke live ?* asks Oliver. * Thty say^ replies Charles, * he is already in 
the Forest of Arden, — they say^ many young gentlemen flock to him every day.' 
There can be no shadow of a doubt that the Duke's banishment is most recent. 
Sufficient time has not elapsed wherein to obtain exact information of his where- 
abouts. Had the Duke's banishment lasted many months, or even many weeks, some 
authentic reports would have come back from him, and the public would be fully 
aware whether he were acquiescing in his exile or gathering forces to resist. The 
vagueness of the information concerning his movements or his habitation proves con- 
clusively that he had only just been driven from his throne. The * new court * cannot 
be many weeks old. It is so * new ' that *bfi iP"^y news in it is the event which 
created it. There had been no time for even another piece of gossip to be started. 
That Charles's ignorance was shared by the public, and was not due to his exclusion 
from the inner court circle, is clear from the fact that in regard to Rosalind and her 
position in the * new court ' he was fully informed ; on any point that could be posi- 
tively known his information is positive. 

It is impossible, it seems to me, to evade the impression which is conveyed in this 
opening scene, that the old Duke has only just been banished. Since we are study- 
ing the conjurer's trick in our closets and making him do it slowly, it is of great 
importance not only to mark well this first deep impression regarding the recent ban- 
ishment of the Duke, but also to discern clearly why it is important, and then after 
we have seen it serve its purpose we must watch the cunning conjurer waive it back 
into the past, and the colors, now bright and fresh as from the dyer's hand, become 
before our very eyes worn and faded with the 'seasons* difference.* ^ 

Accepting then, as Shakespeare intended we' should, the Duke's banishment to 
be recent, it will be manifest that sufficient time has not elapsed to allow the social 
upheav.il to subside, and there will be no need to tell us that the treacherous usurper 
eats his meal in fear and sleeps in the affliction of terrible dreams that shake him 



DURATION OF THE ACTION 391 

nightly. This follows as of course, and gives us the clue to understand why the 
mere mention to the usurping Duke by Orlando of Sir Rowland de Boys's name is 
sufficient to kindle the spark which blazes into a fury of suspicion against Rosalind. 
How essential to the plot this suspicion against Rosalind is, we have seen. It is an 
indispensable element. It is one of the main springs. This suspicion against a 
gentle girl can be accounted for only by the usurper's extreme terror. This extreme 
terror is accounted for by his feeling of insecurity. His insecurity arises from the 
newness of his position. And the newness of his position is due solely to the fact 
that his elder brother has only just been banished. This recent banishment supplies 
the motive which drives Rosalind from court to the Forest of Arden. It is vital to 
the movement of the First Act. But how long are its effects to last ? Clearly, not 
long. Social upheavals are dangerous to meddle with, on or off the stage. * Abys- 
mal inversions of the centre of gravity,' as Carlyle terms them, belong to tragedy, if 
anywhere; and if their memories were kept up here, the turbulence of the times 
would show its effects on the exiled Duke, and we should find him in the Forest of 
Arden still distraught and dishevelled after his compulsory banishment. The peace- 
ful quiet of a woodland comedy cannot breathe amid such scenes. Therefore after 
the explosion of wrath and suspicion from the usurper which drives forth both Rosa- 
lind and Oliver, there is no longer need of this present impression of the recent 
civil strife ; indeed, it would be destructive of the comedy ; and so, having woven 
its spell around us and solved dramatic difficulties, it is gently effaced by vague, 
misty allusions to the past; and that which happened but yesterday begins to 
recede into the dark Imckward of time ; days take the place of hours, and months 
of days, and we count the time by the chimes of another clock which the cunning 
conjurer, before our very eyes but without our seeing it, has substituted for the 
old one. 

Perhaps the first faint intimation of the lapse of time — and it is very faint but still 
marked enough to create an impression — is afler the wrestling, when the usurping 
Duke says to Orlando, * The world esteemed thy father honourable, But I did find him | 
still mine enemy.' This must refer to old Sir Rowland's loyalty to the senior Duke and 
his hostility to the usurper during the recent crisis, the only time as far as we know 
when any proofs of enmity could have been evoked. But the first impression con- 
ceming old Sir Rowland which we receive, in the very opening of the play, is thai 
he has been dead several years, at least long enough to account for Orlando's neg- 
lected education. This passing reference, then, to Sir Rowland's enmity during his 
lifetime to the usurping Duke weakens the impression that the coup d^itat is so very 
recent, and for one second carries that event with it back into the past, and there is a 
fleeting vision of unflinching loyalty long years ago to the exiled Duke in the stres* 
that then drove him from his throne. 

This allusion, which has swiftly come and swiftly gone, is closely followed by an- 
other allusion to time long past, more marked, as it ought to be, than the former, and 
which can scarcely fail to leave a still more decided impression. Le Beau says to 
Orlando immediately after the wrestling : * But I can tell you that of late this duke Hath i 
ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece. Grounded upon no other argument But that 
tfte people praise her for her virtues.^ Charles, the Wrestler, told us that Rosalind was 

* no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter.' To turn love thus deep into 

* displeasure ' time will be required ; and visions arise before us of a blameless life 
lived by Rosalind in the sight of all men, week by week, and month by month, full 
of patient submission and deeds of gentle kindness, and not alone winning all hearts. 



392 APPENDIX 

but winning them so strongly that the murmurs of applause swell till at last the^ 
reach the throne. 

Deep as this impression is of the slow flight of time, and remote as the banish- 
ment of the Duke is beginning to grow, this impression is followed up by anothei 
still dee|)er. When the usurping Duke, half crazed by suspicion, wrathfully ban- 
ishes Rosalind, Celia intercedes for her cousin, and recalls to her cruel father that 
when he *■ stay'd Rosalind,' and she had not *■ with her father ranged along,* be had 
done it out of pity and of love for his own daughter, but, pleads Celia, * I was too 
YOUNG THAT TIME to value her; But Now I know her,' and then she goes on to pic- 
ture the years that have passed since that time in her unconscious childhood when 
the Duke was banished, and how since then she and Rosalind have grown up 
together, how they had learned their lessons together, played together, slept together, 
rose at an instant, ate together, and wherever we went * like Juno's swans still we 
went coupled and inseparable.' It is necessary only to cite this passage ; comment 
on it is impertinent ; no one can evade the impression of years, passing and passed, 
which it conveys. 

But to one fact attention must be called, and this is, the extreme importance, 
dramatically, of making, just at this point, the time of the Duke's banishment recede 
into the past. As a present active force its power is spent. It was of vital import- 
ance to quicken the usurper's suspicion and to cause him to drive Rosalind forth. It 
is now equally important that it should recede into the past and, for two reasons, grow 
dim through a vista of years. First, the next Act is to open in the Forest of Arden ; 
there for the first time we see the banished Duke. No chill air of tragedy can be 
suffered to disturb the repose of that * immortal umbrage,' and all traces of a brother's 
perfidy and treachery must be obliterated ; in things evil we must discern the soul 
of goodness, and recognize it in that philosophic calm which years of exile have 1 
brought to the Duke; all thoughts of recent turbulence or of recent violence, so 
necessary in the first Act, must here, when we first see the exiled Duke, give place 
to that imperturbable serenity and acquiescence with fate which is the benison of 
time. Hence it is that the Second Act opens with the immortal lines: 

* Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet ' 
Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court ? 
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons* difference.^ 

\ 

Are not * old custom ' and * the seasons' difference * * the very lime-twigs ' of Shake- 
speare's spell ? Why else are they here mentioned, if not to catch us with memories 
of years gone by ? Can it be doubted for a moment that Shakesi>eare did not here 
intend us to believe that the Duke had lived through many a seasons' difference, or 
that custom to him had not grown old ? Indeed, I think it may be truthfully said 
that Batiiurst speaks for us all when he says (p. 76) : * The elder Duke has long 
been banished, and is quite contented with his situation.' 

The gentle conjurer's legerdemain is over, and the * trick * is done. The deep 
impression of the First Act has been effaced in preparation for the Second. The 
bells, on which the hours in the First Act were struck close to our eare, have been 
dextrously muffled, and we hear them now only faintly as from the dim digtai^cet 



V 



DURATION OF THE ACTION 393 

Henceforth there is but little need of any allusion either to fai>t or to slow move- 
ment of time, other than to make us believe that Orlando has been long enough in 
the Forest of Arden to write love-songs in the bark of the trees, and that he goes 
wooing every day to Rosalind's sheep-cote. 

I have just said that there are two reasons why, dramatically, it is necessary for us 
to suppose that the Duke has been long an exile in Arden ; the reason which has just 
been given is, I think, of itself quite sufficient. But there is yet another, which ren- 
ders a long sojourn there by the Duke, at least of many, many months, if not of years, 
almost, if not absolutely, imperative. Unless the impressions are obliterated that the 
Duke's exile is * new news,' and that Jaques and Amiens and the rest have only just 
fled fix)m the court and flocked to Arden, — unless, I say, these impressions are oblite- 
rated, how can we possibly understand why Jaques or the Duke, when they met Touch- 
stone in the Forest, did not instantly recognise him, familiar to them as he must have 
been in and about the court. A fool of Touchstone's stamp could not be overlooked 
under any circumstances, and if once seen and heard at any court, be it at the lawful 
Duke's or at the usurper's, he could not afterwards be readily forgotten. Yet Jaques 
had apparently never before seen him, and the Puke certainly had not. That this 
incongruity never occurs to us when sitting at the play shows how powerless we have 
been all along in fencing our ears against Shakespeare's sorcery, and how completely 
he has overmastered us in his treatment of dramatic time. If Jaques fails to recog- 
nise Touchstone as a court fool. Touchstone fails to recognise Jaques as a courtier. 
Yet when Touchstone is about to be married by the hedge -priest and Jaques interferes, 
Touchstone at once recognises and salutes Jaques as his former companion, when he 
moralised the time. So that their failure to recognise each other at that first meeting 
could have been due to no lack of observation, and would have been impossible, does 
it not seem, if Jaques and the rest had only just left the * envious court ' a few weeks 
before, or as short a time before as we were convinced that they had left it, in the 
First Act ? The conclusion, therefore, is to me inevitable, that the impression which 
Shakespeare wished to make on us is that the Duke and Jaques and the rest had been 
so long fleeting the time carelessly in the Poorest of Arden that a new set of courtiers 
had arisen in their old court at home, almost a new generation since their exile had 
begun. 

The student will find the passages indicating * Long Time * and * Short Time * 
gathered together in The Cowden-Clarke's Shakespeare Key, the second great debt 
which all of us owe to one of the sharers of that honoured union. Daniel {New 
Shakspere Society^ Series I, Part ii) has made a * Time- Analysis ' of this play, wherein, 
however, by counting, in the right butter woman's rank to market, the mornings, noons, 
and nights mentioned in the play, and by dividing them up into days, he finds that 
there are *ten days represented on the stage, with such sufficient intervals as the 
reader may imagine for himself as requisite for the probability of the plot.' He is not 
blind (p. 156) to the difficulties of reconciling to the onward flow of the plot, the 
Duke's ' old custom ' or Celia's pleadings with her father, but attempts no solution. 



■i 



394 APPENDIX 

ENGLISH CRITICISMS 

Dr Johnson : Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the 
ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give up their 
hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for the heroism of her friendship. The cha- 
racter of Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic dialogue is very sprightly, 
with less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays ; and the graver part is 
elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end of this work, Shakespeare sup- 
pressed the dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and lost an opportunity of 
exhibiting a moral lesson in which he might have found matter worthy of his highest 
powers. 

Francis Gentleman {^Dramatic Censor y i, 478, 1770) : We make no scruple to 
affirm that As You Like It will afford considerable instruction from attentive perusal, 
with great addition of pleasure from adequate representation. 

Mrs Inchbald (1808) : This comedy has high reputation among Shakespeare's 
works, and yet, on the stage, it is never attractive, except when some actress of very 
superior skill performs the part of Rosalind. This character rwjuires peculiar talents 
in representation, because it has so large a share of the dialogue to deliver ; and the 
dialogue, though excellently written and interspersed with various points of wit, has 
still no forcible repartee or trait of humour, which in themselves would excite mirth, 
independent of an art in giving them utterance. Such is the general cast of all the 
other personages in the play that each requires a most skilful actor to give them their 
proper degree of importance. But, with every advantage to As You Like It in the 
performance, it is a more pleasing drama than one which gives delight. The reader 
will, in general, be more charmed than the auditor ; for he gains all the poet, which 
neither the scene nor the action much adorn, except under particular circumstances. 
Shakespeare has made the inhabitants of the Forest of Arden appear so happy in 
their banishment, that when they are called back to the cares of the world, it seems 
more like a punishment than a reward. Jaques has too much prudence to leave his 
retirement; and yet, when his associates are departed, his state can no longer be envi- 
able, as refined society was the charm which seemed here to bestow on country life 
its more than usual enjoyments. Kemble's Jaques is in the highest estimation with 
the public ; it is one of those characters in which he gives certain bold testimonies of 
genius, which no spectator can controvert, yet the mimic art has very little share in 
this grand exhibition. Mrs Jordan is the Rosalind both of art and of natu)^; each 
supplies its treasures in her performance of the character, and render it a perfect 
exhibition. 

Hazlitt (p. 305, 181 7) : It is the most ideal of any of this author's plays. It is 
a pastoral drama in which the interest arises more out of the sentiments and charac- 
ters than out of the actions or situations. It is not what is done, but what is said, 
that claims our attention. \ Nursed in solitude, * under the shade of melancholy 
boughs,' the imagination grows soft and delicate, and the wit runs riot in idleness, 
like a spoiled child that is never sent to school. Caprice and fancy reign and revel 
here, and stem necessity is banished' to the court. The mild sentiments of humanity 
are strengthened with thought and leisure ; the echo of the cares and noise of the 
world strikes upon the ear of those * who have felt them knowingly,' softened by time 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS 395 

and distance. < They hear the tumult, and are still/ The very air of the place seems 
to breathe a spirit of philosophical poetry; to stir the thoughts, to touch the heart with 
pity, as the drowsy forest rustles to the sighing gale. Never was there such beautiful 

moralising, equally free from pedantry or petulance Within the sequestered and 

romantic glades of the Forest of Arden, they find leisure to be good and wise or to 
play the fool and fall in love. Rosalind's character is made up of sportive gayety and i, 
natural tenderness ; her tongue runs the faster to conceal the pressure at her heart. 1 
She talks herself out of breath, only to get deeper in love. The coquetry with which ^ 
she plays with her lover in the double character which she has to support is managed 

with the nicest address The silent and retired character of Celia is a necessary 

relief to the provoking loquacity of Rosalind The unrequited love of Silvius 

for Phoebe shows the perversity of this passion in the commonest scenes of life, and 
the rubs and stops which Nature throws in its way where fortune has placed none. 

Blackwood's Magazine (April, 1833, P- 559) • We call As You Like It the only 
true * Romance of the Forest.* Touching as it is, and sometimes even pathetic, 'tis 
all but beautiful holiday amusement, and a quiet melancholy alternates with various 
mirth. The contrivance of the whole is at once simple and skilful, — art and nature 
are at one. We are removed just so far out of our customary world as to feel willing 
to submit to any spell, however strange, without losing any of our sympathies with all 
life's best realities. Orlando, the outlaw, calls Arden * a desert inaccessible ' ; and it 
is so ; yet, at the same time, Charles the King's wrestler's accoimt of it was correct, 
* They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, .... where they fleet the time care- 
lessly as they did in the golden world.' The wide woods are full of deer, and in 
op>en places are feeding sheep. Yet in the brakes * hiss green and gilded snakes,' 
whose bite is mortal, and * under the bush's shade a lioness lies couching.' Some 
may think * they have no business there.' Yet give they not something of an imag- 
inative * salvage ' character, — a dimness of peril and fear to the depths of the forest ? 

Campbell (1838) : Before I say more of this dramatic treasure, I must absolve 
myself by a confession as to some of its improbabilities. Rosalind asks her cousin 
Celia, * Whither shall we go ?' and Celia answers, * To seek my uncle in the Forest 
of Arden;' but arrived there, and having purchased a cottage and sheep-farm, 
neither the daughter nor niece of the banished Duke seem to trouble ^ themselves 
much to inquire about either father or uncle. The lively and natural -hearted Rosa- 
lind discovers no impatience to embrace her sire until she has finished her masked 
courtship with Orlando. But Rosalind was in love, as I have been with the comedy 
these forty years; and love is blind; for xmtil a late period my eyes were never 
couched so as to see this objection. The truth, however, is love is wilfully blind, 
and now that my eyes are opened, I shut them against the fault. Away with your 
best-proved improbabilities when the heart has been touched and the fancy fasci- 
nated ! WTien I think of the lovely Mrs Jordan in this part, I have no more desire 
for proofs of probability on this subject, though * proofs pellucid as the morning dews,' 
than for * the cogent logic of a bailiff's writ.* In fact, though there is no rule without 
exceptions, and no general truth without limitation, it may be pronounced, that if you 
delight us in fiction you may make our sense of probability slumber as deeply as you 
please. 

But it may be asked whether nature and truth are to be sacrificed at the altar of 
fiction ? No ! in the main effect of fiction on the fancy they never are nor can be 



396 APPENDIX 

sacrificed. The improbabilities of fiction are only its exceptions, whilst the tmth of 
nature is its general law ; and unless the truth of nature were in the main observed, 
the fictionist could not lull our vigilance as to particular improbabilities. Apply this 
maxim to Shakespeare's As You Like //, and our Poet will be fomid to make us for* 
get what is eccentric from nature in a limited view, by showing it more beautifully 
probable in a larger contemplation. In this drama he snatches us out of the busy 
world into a woodland solitude ; he makes us breathe its fresh air, partake its pas- 
toral peace, feast on its venison, admire its bounding wild deer, and sympathise with 
its banished men and simple rustics. But he contrives to break its monotony by the 
intrusion of courtly manners and characters. He has a fool and a philosopher, who 
might have hated each other at court, but who like each other in the forest He has 
a shepherdess and her wooing shepherd, as natural as Arcadians ; yet when the ban- 
ished court comes to the country and beats it in wit, the courtiers seem as much natu- 
ralised to the forest as its natives, and the general truth of nature is equally pre- 
served. 

The events of the play are not numerous, and its interest is preserved by characters 
more than incidents. But what a tablet of characters ! the witty and impassioned 
Rosalind, the love-devoted Orlando, the friendship-devoted Celia, the duty-devoted 
old Adam, the humorous Qown and the melancholy Jaques ; all these, together with 
the dignified and banished Duke, make the Forest of Arden an Elysium to our 
hnagination ; and our hearts are so stricken by these benevolent beings that we easily 
forgive the other once culpable but at last repentant characters. 

Hallam {Literature of Europe ^ ii, 396, 1839) : The sweet and sportive temper 
of Shakespeare, though it never deserted him, gave way to advancing years and to 
the mastering force of serious thought. What we read we know but very imper- 
fectly; yet, in the last years of this century, when five and thirty summers bad 
ripened his genius, it seems that he must have transfused much of the wisdom of past 
ages into his own all-combining mind. In several of the historical plays, in Tlie Mer' 
chant of Venice, and especially in As You Like Ity the philosophic eye, turned inward 
on the mysteries of human nature, is more and more characteristic ; and we might 
apply to the last comedy the bold figure that Coleridge has less appropriately 
employed as to the early poems, that * the creative power and the intellectual energy 
wrestle as in a war embrace.' In no other play, at least, do we find the bright imag- 
ination and fascinating grace of Shakespeare's youth so mingled with the thoughtful- 
ness of his maturer age. This play is referred with reasonable probability to the year 
1600. Few comedies of Shakespeare are more generally pleasing, and its manifold 
Improbabilities do not much affect us m..^aq]^l. The brave injured Orlando, tbe 
sprightly but modest Rosalind, the faKhful Adkn, the reflecting Jaques, the serene 
and magnanimous Duke, interest us by utmsrtfaough the play is not so well managed 
as to condense our sympathy, and direct it to the conclusion. 

W. W. Lloyd (Singer's Edition, 1856, p. 120) : The usurper pays the penalties 
of a falsely-assumed position ; his very lords characterise him justly when they speak 
in an undertone, and warn away from the range of his passion those whom he is fit- 
fully incensed against. His very daughter disowns the ill-bought advancement he 
would provide for her, and slips from his side to accompany in peril and privation a 
victim of his jealousy. Thus in every form of loyalty, comp>assion, duty, and affectioo» 
whether spirited, tender, sentimental, or grrotesque, the better spirits fly by natara! 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS 397 

attraction to a more congenial centre, and in all happy companionship. The lords, 
Amiens, Jaques, and the pages, tender free duty to an exiled master ; Celia proffers 
companionship to her banished cousin without ostentation, and it is accepted without 
set acknowledgement, because in the same sympathetic spirit in which it was made ; 
old* Adam with limping gait, but with the best heart he may, goes on with his young 
master ; while Touchstone follows his mistress as devotedly as the best, perhaps the 
most devotedly of all, for he is the only one of them all who, as he is carried along 
by the current of his attachment, has still the faculty of contemplating his wanderings 
philosophically, of appreciating his sacrifices, whether in friendship or marriage, cor- 
rectly, without making them one whit less willingly. Perhaps Jaques, in his parody 
of Amiens' song, approaches the critical vein of Touchstone pretty closely, but he is 
inferior in that mixed vein of self-observation and self-knowledge, which approximates 
Touchstone at one time to Mr Pepys, and at another to Michel de Montaigne. 

Halliwell [Introduction, p. 71) : Though said to be oftener read than any other 
of Shakespeare's plays. As You Like It is certainly less fascinating than several of 
his other comedies. The dramatist has presented us with a pastoral comedy, the cha« 
racters of which, instead of belonging to an ideal pastoral age, are true copies of what 

Nature would produce under similar conditions The poet has relieved the 

development of a melancholy subject and an insignificant story by the introduction of 
a more than usual number of really individual subordinate characters. Even Rosa* 
lind, that beautiful but wilful representation of woman's passion, is not an important 
accessory to the moral purpose of the comedy ; and the other characters, however 
gracefully delineated, are not amalgamated into an artistic action with that full power 
which overwhelms us with astonishment in the grander efibrts of Shakespeare's 
genius. 

Bathurst (p. 76) : It is the very pleasantest and sweetest of plays, sprinkled 
with a good deal of seriousness ; and some unhappiness, but none of it cuts deep. 
The elder Duke has long been banished, and is quite contented with his situation. 
The distress of Orlando and Adam is speedily relieved. Rosalind and Celia, happy 
from the first, in each other's company, are quite gay and cheerful when they get into 
the forest. Even the bad brother partakes of the general sunshine, and is let off very 
easily, kindly, and pleasantly, though not with any great probability. The cheerful- 
ness of this play is delicate, however, and gentle. There are not the coarse gayetiei 
(if anything Shakespeare did can be called coarse) of Falstaff and his companions, 
or of the people in Olivia's house ; nor the bad conceits of Romeo ^ Juliet. It is a 
play of conversation more than action, on the whole, and of character. Some of the 
characters, as Jaques and Touchstone, are shown in what they say merely ; not what 
they do. 

Heraud (p. 235) : The poet, in conceiving this fine work, first generated a lofty 
V ideal. His aim was to set forth the power of patience as the panacea for earth's .lis 
\ and the injustice of fortune, and self-command as the condition without which the 
power would be inoperative. Neither this power nor its condition can be easily illus 
vated in the life of courts ; but the sylvan life, such as the banished Duke and his 
companions live in Arden, is favourable to both. In the contrast between the two 
states of life lies the charm of the play, and the reconciliation of these formal oppo 
sites is the fulfilment of its ideal. 



398 APPENDIX 

MOBERLY {^Introduction^ p. 6, 1872) : In the Introduction to Hamlet an attempt 
has been made to show how a tendency to melancholy sprang naturally out of the 
very circumstances of Shakespeare's time; and how the noble spirits of that day 
occupied themselves in battling against it. The same truths, which are so strongly 
impressed on us by Hamlet's losing battle against sadness, over-reflection, and want 
of practical force, are in this play touched with a light and genial hand. It seems 
written to show how the most depressing circumstances, even if continued year after 
year, may utterly fail to sink a generous heart into despondency. | Orlando has been 
ill-treated in every way by his tyrannical elder brother, but his good qualities come 
out only the more by this perpetual bruising. He never loses the elasticity of mind 
and generosity of impulse which is to carry him through all. One fortunate stroke 
of audacity, by enabling him to defeat the professional athlete, seems likely to open 
to him a path leading to honour and rank such as his birth entitles him to hold. But 
the hope is dashed, as soon as it is conceived, by the dark jealousy of the usurping 
Duke against the family beloved by his banished brother. Then Orlando fail^Jorji 
moment in courage and hopefulness ; he considers himself * a rotten tree * that will 
yield no fruit for any pruning. Yet the sad' words have- bwHily^pas^eiJlisJipa-wilen"' 
he is already anticipating some * settled low content ;' and, in the next scenes, when 
we Bnd him in the company of the banished Duke, he has cast all gloom aside, has 
nothing to say against ' any breather in the world ' except himself, against whom be 
knows more evil than against any one else ; and is contented to proclaim his love for 
Rosalind to any one who will listen to him, without any desponding thoughts as to 
the hardness of his destiny. / As volatile as one of Alfred de Musset's heroes, he has, 
in all and through all, a nrm ground of healthy English sense and truthfulness, 
which entitles him to serve as a typ>e of those gallant youths who from so many a 
creek and inlet of Devonshire and Cornwall went forth in Shakespeare's day to war 
against the Spaniard. 

Orlando's Rosalind is his exact counterpart, shaped for his love by similarity of 
destiny ; but with this difference, that she acquiesced in her former lot of dei>endence 
and was only unsettled in her contentment, first, by the Duke's taunt against her 
father, which her true and bold spirit could not endure, and then by her unjust ban- 
ishment. Afler this, in her *■ doublet and hose,' with Celia in some degree dependent 
on her, she blazes into energy and vivacity ; she has spirit enough for her own affairs 
and for half a dozen plots beside, and tact enough to make them all run prosperously 
up to the time when the fourfold wedding comes to settle all. Her skill in repartee 
is as great as Beatrice's ; but there is none of the malice which has to be got rid of in 
Much Ado About Nothing by such a course of rigorous discipline. Rosalind never 
stings without strong and good reason, and in the interest of truth and right. When 
she does, however, she shows a talent for saying truth * the next way ' which any pro- 
fessional moralist might envy. 

The third gradation of cheerfulness appears in the banished Duke. He is happy, 
not by youth and animal spirits, like the two others, but by reflection. His character 
is such that he is able to maintain his state and dignity in the forest as easily as at 
the court, controlling his followers without an effort, and correcting their crude reflec- 
tions in a moment by his superior thought and moral force. His good-humour is all- 
embracing ; he loves to * cope * with those whose whole tone of mind is opposed to 
his own, and at once enters into the * swift and sententious * spirit of Touchstone, 
when that eminent person is at last introduced to him, and produces the choicest 
flowers of his wit, which he had reser\'ed till then ; and as a matter of course the 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS 399 

Duke has long ago reconciled himself to his life of banishment and deprivation, and 
learned to find happiness in the very feeling of contact with nature unalloyed. 

To furnish a marked contrast to these characters, to assail them one afler another 
with attempts to shake their trust in mankind, to whisper sneers against love and 
happiness, to suggest that their life, simple though it is, still has tlie taint of the world 
upon it, and to patronise enthusiastically such rascalities as accident brings there, 
is the part assigned to the melancholy Jaques; a character created, with consum- 
mate skill, to throw the whole meaning of the play into a clear light and to bring 
out the moral lesson conveyed by it. He has been most profligate in his youth ; has 
travelled in Italy, the mother of all iniquities, to gain experience there; and has 
spent his estate in so doing. He is therefore persuaded that the knowledge of 
human nature which he has thus gained will be of great service to the world, if it 
can only be induced to listen. But how instantly and how humiliatingly he is put to 
the rout by the three glad hearts which he tries to sour ! Orlando absolutely refuses 
to rail against the world in his company, and reciprocates with hearty good-will, 
although jocosely, all Jaques^s expressions of antipathy to his ways of thinking. 
Rosalind sarcastically asks him about his travels. What have they done for him ? 
Has he learned to despise home dress and home manners ? sold his own lands to aee 
other people's ? learned to chide God for making him the countryman he is ? And 
what is this melancholy of which he boasts ? Something as bad or worse than the 
most giddy merriment; something that incapacitates him for action as completely 
and more permanently than drunkenness. Above all, the Duke tells him, without 
the slightest reserve, although with perfect good-humour, that bis gifts as a moralist 
can do nothing for the world; that his former life unfits him to be a reformer; that 
if he attempts such a task, he will only corrupt the world by his experience ; and to 
all these buffetings, right hand and left, Jaques replies in a way which shows he is 
incapable of understanding the depth of their meaning. He escapes from Rosalind 
and Orlando because he does not like the < blank verse ' they talk ; and shirks the 
admonition of the Duke and all its serious wisdom, by arguing that no one would 
have a right to be offended by satire of a general character, or need apply it to him- 
self, — as if the Duke had been admonishing him to avoid offending others and not to 
avoid corrupting others. 

There are traces of great family troubles which afflicted Shakespeare up to within 
a few years of the time when this play was written, and probably up to that time. 
When we read of his own father being ' warned ' from Stratford Market, and imable 
to come to church for fear of arrest, this certainly gives much reality to the sad reflec- 
tion on the * poor and broken bankrupt * typified by the wounded stag. 

The deep sorrowfulness of the subjects chosen by the poet in the years following 
1600 leads us to follow up the hint thus given ; for between this time and his death 
we have not only the four tragedies, Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth, and Othello, but also 
the gloomy subject of Timon of Athens, and in comedies (if they may be so called) 
the sterner and severer types of Measure for Measure and The Tempest. As, there- 
fore, we cannot help seeing that the same struggle against melancholy lasted through 
Shakespeare's life, we shall not be mistaken in seeing the same indications of his 
nature in As You Like It. This play was, therefore, one of the earlier attempts made 
by the poet to control the dark spirit of melancholy in himself by a process which a 
great writer (Dr Johnson) well versed in his subject has described as hopeless, that 
of * thinking it away.* With this plan in view, he, as it were, held it up to view in 
many lights, in order to set up a standard for himself against it, — ^with what effect on 



400 APPENDIX 

himself we can only partially judge, fixsm our extreme ignorance of the events of his 
later life. But even if Shakespeare's efforts to free himself from the clinging plague 
were unavailing (as we must needs suppose), they are still calculated to do for others 
what they could not do for him. Any one who will may learn from As You Like It, 
that the secret of true cheerfulness is to be found in Horace's words, Mihi res non 
me rebus subnectere conor ; who treats the state of things in which he finds himself 
not as a stem unbending order under which his powers as well as his resistance must 
be crushed, but an arrangement capable of seconding all his endeavours for a high and 
cheerful life, and of furnishing instruction, help, and encouragement whenever and 
wherever they are needed. 

Hudson {^Introduction^ p. 22, 1880) : The general drift and temper, or, as some 
of the German critics would say, the ground-idea of this play is aptly hinted by the 
title. As for the beginnings of what is here represented, these do not greatly concern 
us ; most of them lie back out of our view, and the rest are soon lost sight of in what 
grows out of them ; but the issues, of which there are many, are all exactly to our 
mind ; we feel them to be just about right, and would not have them otherwise. For 
example, touching Frederick and Oliver, our wish is that they should repent and 
repair the wrong they have done ; in brief, that they should become good ; which is 
precisely what takes place ; and as soon as they do this, they naturally love those who 
were good before. Jaques, too, is so fitted to moralise the discrepimcies of human 
life, so happy and at home, and withal so agreeable in that exercise, that we would 
not he should follow the good Duke when in his case those discrepancies are com- 
posed. The same might easily be shown in respect of the other issues. Indeed, I 
dare ask any genial, considerate reader. Does not everything turn out as you like itP | 
Moreover, there is an indefinable something about the play that puts us in a receptive ^ 
frame of mind ; that opens the heart, soothes away all quenilousness and fault-finding, 
and makes us easy and apt to be pleased. Thus the Poet here disposes us to like 
things as they come, and at the same time takes care that they shall come as we like. 
The whole play, indeed, is as you like it. 

(P. 24) : As far as I can determine the matter. As You Like It is, upon the whole, 
my favourite of Shakespeare's comedies. Yet I should be puzzled to tell why ; fof 
my preference springs not so much from any particular points or features, wherein it 
/ is surpassed by several others, as from the general toning and effect. The whole is 
replete with a beauty so delicate, yet so intense, that we feel it everywhere, but can 
never tell esp>ecially where it is or in what it consists. For instance, the descriptions 
of forest scenery come along so unsought, and in such easy, quiet, natural touches 
that we take in the impression without once noticing what it is that impresses us. 
Thus, there is a certain woodland freshness, a glad, free naturalness, that creeps and 
steals into the heart before we know it And the spirit of the place is upon its inhab- 
itants, its genius within them ; we almost breathe with them the fragrance of the For- 
est, and listen to ' the melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,' and feel 

The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, 

That have their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, 

Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring. 

Even the court Fool, notwithstanding all the crystallising process that has passed upoil 
him, undergoes a sort of rejuvenescence of his inner man, so that his wit catches at 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS 401 

cyery turn the fresh hues and odours of his new whereabout. I am persuaded, 
indeed, that Milton had a special eye to this play in the lines. 

And sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 
Warbles his native wood-notes wild. 

To all which add, that the kindlier sentiments here seem playing out in a sort of 
jubilee. Untied itom. set purposes and definite aims, the persons come forth with 
their hearts already tuned, and so have but to let off their redundant music. Envy, 
jealousy, avarice, revenge, all the passions that afflict and degrade society, they have 
left in the city behind them. And they have brought the intelligence and refinement 
of the court without its vanities and vexations ; so that the graces of art and the sim- 
plicities of nature meet together in joyous, loving sisterhood. A serene and mellow 
atmosphere of thought encircles and pervades the actors in this drama, as if on pur- 
pose to illustrate how 

One impulse from a vernal wood 

May teach you more of man, 
Of moral evil, and of good. 
Than all the sages can. 

Nature throws her protecting arms around them; Beauty pitches her tent before them; 
Heaven rains its riches upon them, with *■ no enemy but winter and rough weather ' ; 
Peace hath taken up her abode with them ; and they have nothing to do but to ' fleet 
the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.' But no words of mine, I fear, 
will justify to others my own sense of this delectable workmanship. I can hardly 
think of anything else in the whole domain of Poetry so inspiring of the faith thai 
* every flower enjoys the air it breathes.* The play, indeed, abounds in wild, frolic- 
some graces which cannot be described ; which can only be seen and felt ; and which 
the hoarse voice of criticism seems to scare away, as the crowing of the cocks is said 
to have scared away the fairy spirits from their nocturnal pastimes. 



y 



Neil {^Introduction^ p. 10) : When we read this drama, we see that it recognises 
Love as the pivot and centre of activity and joy — the very core of life. It has been 
said that its chief end was to * dally with the innocence of love.* It surely, however, 
has a higher aim than that. When we observe that all the evils in the play originate 
in the neglect of the royal law of life : * Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,* 
and that all the good results flow from obedience to that Divine rule ; when we see 
how Selfishness complicates, and Love explicates, the plot, — may it not be that As 
You Like It is a Divine morality as well as a charming play ? In these words : 
< As ye would that men should do to you, do jt also to them likewise,' the Supreme 
Parablist states the law of life in its social relations ; and may not the great drama- 
tist, seeing the fine moral teaching underlying the heavenly maxim, have resolved to 
show, as in a magic mirror, a little bit of the Eden possible in the world, were the 
higher sympathies of its denizens ruled by the love commended to us by the wisdom 
of the incarnated Ix)rd of Life ? On this ground we may regard Shakespeare as 
indicating his intention by the significance with which he renders into verse the say- 
ing : * There is joy in the presence of God over one sinner that repenteth,* bringing 
out beautifully the fine At-one-mtnt which the following out of the Redeemer*s pre- 
cept, ' As you like it done to you, so do,* would effect in the lines : < Then is there 

mirth in heaven When earthly things made even At-one together.' 
96 



402 APPENDIX 

DoWDEN (p. 76) : Shakspere, when he had completed his English historical 
plays, needed rest for his imagination; and in such a mood, craving refreshment 
and recreation, he wrote his play of As You Like It. To imderstand the spirit of 
this play, we must bear in mind that it was written immediately after Shakspere's 
great series of tragedies. Shakspere turned with a sense of relief and a long ease- 
ful sigh from the oppressive subjects of history, so grave, so real, so massive, and 
found rest and freedom and pleasure in escape from courts and camps to the Forest 
of Arden. 

(P. So) : Upon the whole. As You Like It is the sweetest and happiest of all 
Shakspere's comedies. No one suffers ; no one lives an eager, intense life ; there is 
no tragic interest in it as there is in The Merchant of Venice^ as there is in Much Ado 
about Nothing, It is mirthful, but the mirth is sprightly, graceful, exquisite ; there is 
none of the rollicking fun of a Sir Toby here ; the songs are not < coziers' catches,' 
shouted in the night-time, * without any mitigation or remorse of voice,' but the solos 
and duets of pages in the wild-wood, or the noisier chorus of foresters. The wit of 
Touchstone is 'not mere clownage, nor has it any indirect serious significances; it is a 
dainty kind of absurdity, worthy to hold comparison with the melancholy of Jaques. 
And Orlando in the beauty and strength of early manhood, and Rosalind, — ^'A gallant 
curtle-axe upon her thigh, A boar spear in her hand,' and the bright, tender, loyal 
womanhood within, — are figures which quicken and restore our spirits as music does, 
which is neither noisy nor superficial, and yet which knows little of the deep passion 
and sorrow of the world. 

Shakspere, when he wrote this idyllic play, was himself in his Forest of Arden. 
He had ended one great ambition, — the historical plays,— and not 3ret commenced 
his tragedies. It was a resting-place. He sends his imagination into the woods to 
find repose. Instead of the court and camps of England and the embattled plains 
of France, here was this woodland scene where the palm tree, the lioness, and the 
serpent are to be found ; possessed of a flora and fauna that flourish in spite of phjrs- 

ical geographers. There is an open*air feeling throughout the play After the 

trumpet tones of Henry F comes the sweet pastoral strain, so bright, so tender. Must 
it not be all in keeping ? Shakspere was not trying to control his melancholy. When 
he needed to do that, Shakspere confronted his melancholy very passionately, and 
looked it full in the face. Here he needed refreshment, a sunlight tempered by 
forest-boughs, a breexe upon his forehead, a stream murmuring in his ears. 

FuRNiVALL {Introduction to The Leopold Shakspere, p. Ivii) : The picture is not 
painted in the same high key of colour as Much Ado, Instead of the hot sun of Beat- 
nce's and Benedick's sharp wit-combats, with its golden reds and yellows, backed by 
the dark clouds of Hero's terrible distress, we have a picture of greys and greens and 
blues lit through a soft haze of silvery light. Rosalind's rippling laugh comes to us 
from the far-off forest glades, and the wedded couples' sweet content reaches us as a 
strain of distant melody. 

Lady Martin {JBlackwood^s Magazine, October, 1884, p. 404) : When I resolved 
to make a thorough study of the play, I little thought how long, yet how fascinating, 
a task I had imposed upon myself. With every fresh perusal new points of interest 
and of charm revealed themselves to me ; while, as for Rosalind, < she drew me on to 
love her ' with a warmth of feeling which can only be understood by the artist who 
has found in the heroine she impersonates that 'something never to be wholly 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS 403 

known/ those 8tig|i;estionB of bigli qualities answerable to all the contingencies or trials 
of circumstance, by which we are captivated in real life, and which it is her aim 
and her triumph to bpng home to the hearts and imaginations of her audience as 
they have come home to her own. Often as I have played Rosalind since, I have 
never done so without a fresh study of the play, nor without finding in it something 
that had escaped me before. It was ever, therefore, a fresh delight to bring out as 
best I could in action what had thus flashed upon me Ih my hours of meditation, and 
to try to make this exquisite creature as dear and 'fascinating to my audience as she 
had become to myself. In the very acting I learned much ; for if on the stage you 
leave your mind open to what is going on around you, even an unskilful actor by your 
side — and I need not say how much more a gifted one — may, by a gesture or an 
intonation, open up something fresh to your imagination. So it was I came to love 
Rosalind with my whole heart ; and well did she repay me, for I have often thought 
that in impersonating her I was aUe to give full expression to what was best in myself 
as well as in my art. 

(P. 406) : To me i^ J You Like It seems to be as much a love-poem as Romeo 6f* 
Juliety with this difference : that it deals with happy love, while the Veronese story 
deals with love crossed by misadventure and crowned with death. It is as full of 
imagination, of the glad rapture of the tender passion, of its impulsiveness, its gene- 
rosity, its pathos. No ' hearse-like abs,' indeed, come wailing by, as in the tale of 
those *■ star-crossed lovers,' to warn us of their too early ' overthrow.' All is blended 
into a rich harmonious music which makes the heart throb, but never makes it ache. 
Still, the love is not less deep, less capable of proving itself strong as death ; neither 
are the natures of Orlando and Rosalind less touched to all the fine issues of that 
passion than those of 'Juliet and her Romeo.* 

Is not love, indeed, the pivot on which the action of the play turns, — ^love, too, at 
first sight ? Does it not seem that the text the poet meant to illustrate was that which 
he puts into Fbebe's mouth : ' Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight V Love 
at fust sight, like that of Joliet and Romeo, is the love of Rosalind and Orlando, of 
Celia and Oliver, and of Fhebe herself for Ganymede. The two latter pairs of lovers 
are perhaps but of little account, but is not the might of Marlowe's saw as fully exem- 
plified in Rosalind and Orlando as in the lovers of Verona ? 

(P. 435) : No word escapes from Rosalind's lips as we watch her there [in the 
last Scene, after the entrance of Jaques de Bois], the woman in all her beauty and 
perfect grace, now calmly happy, beside a father restored to ' a potent dukedom,' and 
a lover whom she knows to be wholly worthy to wield that dukedom when in duo 
season she will endow him with it as her husband. Happiest of women ! for who 
else ever bad such means of testing that love on which her own happiness depends ? 
In all the days that are before her, all the largeness of heart, the rich imagination, the 
bright commanding intellect, which made her the presiding genius of the Forest of 
Arden, will work with no less beneficent sway in the larger sphere of princely duty. 
With what delight will she recnr with her lover-husband to the strange accidents of 
fortune which * forced sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood,' and to the never-to- 
be-forgotten hours when he was a second time < o'erthrown ' by the wit, the playful 
wiles, the inexplicaUe charm of the young Ganymede ! How, too, in all the grave 
duties of the high position to which his alliance will raise him, will he not only pos- 
sess in her an honoured and admired companion, but will also find wise guidance 
and support in her clear intelligence and courageous will ! It is thus, at least, that I 
dream of my dear Rosalind and her Orlando. 



404 APPENDIX 

[In the following extracts there is a rude classification of the judgements passed 
on the several characters, which is as exact, perhaps, as circumstances permit. In the 
preceding pages there are, of course, allusions to the different characters, but it has 
not been deemed possible to detach them from their context without injury.] 

Rosalind 

Mrs Jameson {Characteristics of Wometiy 1833, vol. i, p. I4i)s I come now to 
Rosalind, whom I should have ranked before Beatrice, inasmuch as the jg^reater degree 
of her sex's softness and sensibility, united with equal wit and intellect, give her the 
superiority as a woman; but that as a dramatic character she is inferior in force. 
The portrait is one of infinitely more delicacy and variety, but of less strength and 
depth 

(P. 145) : Though Rosalind is a princess, she is a princess of Arcady; and not- 
withstanding the charming effect produced by her first scenes, we scarcely ever think 
of her with a reference to them, or associate her with a court and the artificial append- 
ages of her rank. She was not made to ' lord it o*er a fair mansion ' and take state 
upon her like the all-accomplished Portia; but to breathe the free air of heaven and 
frolic among green leaves. She was not made to stand the siege of daring profligacy, 
and oppose high action and high passion to the assaults of adverse fortune, like Isabel, 
but to * fleet the time carelessly, as they did i' the golden age.' She was not made to 
bandy wit with lords, and tread courtly measures with plumed and warlike cavaliers, 
like Beatrice, but to dance on the green sward and * murmur among living brooks • 
music sweeter than their own.' 

Though sprightliness is the distinguishing characteristic of Rosalind, as of Beatrice, 
yet we find her much more nearly allied to Portia in temper and intellect The tone 
of her mind is, like Portia's, genial and buoyant ; she has something too of her soft- 
ness and sentiment ; there is the same confiding abandonment of self in her affections; 
but the characters are otherwise as distinct as the situations are dissimilar. The age 
the manners, the circumstances in which Shakespeare has placed his Portia, are not 
beyond the bounds of probability ; nay, have a certain reality and locality. We fancy 
her a contemporary of the Raffaelles and the Ariostos ; the sea-wedded Venice, its 
merchants and Magniticos, — the Rialto, and the long canals, — ^rise up before us when 
we think of her. But Rosalind is surrounded with the purely ideal and imaginative ; the 
reality is in the characters and in the sentiments, not in the circumstances or 'situation. 
Portia is dignified, splendid, and romantic ; Rosalind is playful, pastoral, and pictm> 
esque ; both are in the highest degree poetical, but the one is epic and the other Ijrric. 

Everything about Rosalind breathes of ' youth and youth's sweet prime.' She is 
fresh as the morning, sweet as the dew-awakened blossoms, and light as the breeze 
that plays among them. She is as witty, as voluble, as sprightly as Beatrice; but in a 
style altogether distinct. In both, the wit is equally unconscious ; but in Beatrice it 
plays about us like the lightning, dazzling but also alarming I while the wit of Rosa- 
lind bubbles up and sparkles like the living fountain, refreshing all around. Her 
volubility is like the bird's song ; it is the outpouring of a heart filled to overflowing 
with life, love, and joy, and all sweet and affectionate impulses. She has as much 
tenderness as mirth, and in her most petulant raillery there is a touch of softness : 
< By this hand it will not hurt a fly !' As her vivacity never lessens our impression of 
her sensibility, so she wears her masculine attire without the slightest impugnment of 
her delicacy. Shakespeare did not make the modesty of his women depend on their 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS-'ROSALIND 405 

dress, as we shall sec further when we come to Viola and Imogen. Rosalind has, in 
truth, * no doublet and hose in her disposition.' How her heart seems to throb and 
flutter under her page's vest ! What depth of love in her passion for Orlando ! whether 
disguised beneath a saucy playfulness, or breaking forth with a fond impatience, or 
half betrayed in that beautiful scene where she faints at the sight of the kerchief 
stained with his blood ! Here her recovery of her self-possession, her fears lest she 
should have revealed her sex, her presence of mind and quick-witted excuse, and the 
characteristic playfulness which seems to return so naturally with her recovered senses, 
— are all as amusing as consistent Then how beautifully is the dialogue managed 
between herself and Orlando ! how well she assumes the airs of a saucy page, without 
throwing off her feminine sweetness I How her wit flutters free as air over every sub- 
ject ! With what careless grace, yet with what exquisite propriety ! . . . . 

(P. 149) : The impression left upon our hearts and minds by the character of 
Rosalind — ^by the mixture of playfulness, sensibility, and what the P'rench (and we 
for lack of a better expression) call nalveU — ^is like a delicious strain of music. 
There is a depth of delight, and a subtlety of words to express that delight, which is 
enchanting. Yet when we call to mind particular speeches and passages, we And 
that they have a relative beauty and propriety which renders it difficult to separate 
them from the context without injuring their effect. She says some of the most 
charming things in the world, and some of the most humorous ; but we apply them 
as phrases rather than as maxims, and remember them rather for their pointed felicity 
of expression and fanciful application, than for their general truth and depth of mean- 
ing 

(P. 152) : Rosalind has not the impressive eloquence of Portia nor the sweet wis- 
dom of Isabella. Her longest speeches are not her best; nor is her taunting address 
to Phebe, beautiful and celebrated as it is, equal to Phebe's own description of her. 
The latter, indeg^^ more in earnest. .... 

(P. 154) : ^ebe|s quite an Arcadian coquette; she is a piece of pastoral poetry; 
Audrey is onl^twam:. A very amusing effect is produced by the contrast between 
the frank and free bearing of the two princesses in disguise, and the scornful airs of 
the real shepherdess. In the speeches of Phebe, and in the dialogue between her 
and Silvius, Shakespeare has anticipated all the beauties of the Italian pastoral, and 
surpassed Tasso and Guarinl. We find two amongst the most poetical passages of 
the play appropriated to Phebe, the taunting speech to Silvius, and the description of 
Rosallnd*in her page's costume : which last is finer than the portrait of Bathyllus in 
Anacreon. 

Fletcher (p. 225) : We must suppose to be of Rosalind's own device that con- 
cluding ' wedlock hymn ' which conmiemorates the principal one of the matters that 
form the main subject of this drama, — the grand comprehensive moral of which is, 
the eternal triumph of the genial sympathies and the social relations over every form 
of individual selfishness and misanthropy. No reader who shall have traced, with 
us, the course of Rosalind's feelings and deportment, through that first period of her 
fortunes when her heart is engrossed by sorrow for her father's banishment, and that 
second penod when solicitude for her lover's requital of her affection, for his honour, 
and his safety, fills her whole soul and prompts her every sentence, — ^will need any 
further indication on our part to shew him how foreign to the anxiously active state 
of our heroine's heart and mind throughout is Mrs Jameson's notion, for Instance, 
about her ' fleeting the time carelessly,' *■ dancing on the green sward, and frolicking 



4o6 APPENDIX 

among green leaves/ a notion which at once brings down the < heavenly Rosalind ' of 
Shakespeare's fancy and Orlando's love to the level of a * Maid Marian/ or, at most, 
to a superior May-day Queen. The same imperfect view of her character causes this 
critic to speak in terms comparatively slighting of the intellectual development in 
Rosalind. She tells us : *■ Rosalind has not the impressive eloquence of Portia, nor 
the sweet wisdom of Isabella. Her longest speeches are not her best,' &c. But the 
dramatist has placed her in no circumstances that at all admit, much less demand 
from her, anything of that solemn declamation which we hear from Isabella and from 
Portia. Any such declamatory strain, so out of place, from her lips to any of the 
individuals with whom she is brought into contact, would have testified, not in favour 
of the strength and brightness of her intellect, but against them. Neither is Rosa- 
lind any more inherently loquacious than she is declamatory ; she ntvfr talks merely 
for talking's sake ; strong feeling or earnest purpose dictates her every syllable. 

(P. 232) : The fundamental error of Mrs Jameson in appreciating this noble as 
well as exquisite creation [Rosalind] seems to result from the mistaken attempt which 
she makes to classify the characters of which she is treating as < characters of intel- 
lect,' *■ characters of affection,' &c. Of all characters in fiction, those of Shakespeare 
least admit of such classification^ — their individuality is so inherent and essential,— « 
so analogous to that of actual and living persons. This classifying notion has misled 
Mrs Jameson into assigning too small a proportion to affectionate feeling in the cha- 
racter of Rosalind. Mrs Jameson, indeed, commits too frequently, regarding these 
Shakespearian personages, the error so oflen committed in real life, of taking some 
prominent part of a character for the whole, or, at least, for a much larger portion of 
it than it actually constitutes. This too constant habit of estimating a given character 
simply through looking at it from the outside, rather than by penetrating to its inmost 
spirit, and then, as it were, surveying it from the centre, has been peculiarly fatal to 
this pleasing writer's criticism of the more ideal among Shakespeare's female charac- 
ters. It would even app>ear to have made her overlook altogether the distinction 
between his ideal women and his women of real life ; so much so, that among those 
which she classes as < characters of intellect,' she actually ranks Rosalind, not only 
after Portia and Isabella, but even after Beatrice. 

(P. 235) : The fundamental error in the established theatrical treatment of this 
play has descended from that Restoration period of our dramatic history when, under 
the ascendency which the restored court gave to French principles of taste and criti- 
cism, it was sought to subject even the great ideal dramas of Shakespeare to the com- 
monplace classical circumscriptions of Tragedy and Comedy. Here we have a signal 
example of the perversion which must ever be effected by an endeavour to make the 
principles of art subordinate to the distinctions of criticism. This great, unique, ideal 
play being once definitively set down upon the manager's books as a comedy in the Iha- 
ited sense, it followed, of course, according to theatrical reasoning, that the part of ks 
heroine was evermore to be sustained by whatever lady should be regarded, by dis- 
tinction, as the comic actress for the time being. Surely on this principle alone can it 
have been (notwithstanding all her genuine comic powers) that either the figure, the 
spirit, or the manner of a Mrs Jordan, for instance, was ever, not merely tolerated, 
but relished and applauded, in her personation of the < heavenly Rosalind ' 1 But the 
managers have not stopped here. When the comic actress of this part, as in the 
instance just cited, possessed a singing voice, an occasion was to be furnished her of 
displaying it, how much soever it might be to the contempt of Shakespeare and con- 
sistency, and to the degradation of his heroine. And so the < cuckoo song ' was taken 



\ 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS^ROSALIND 407 

out of the mouth of Armado's page in Love's Labour^ s Lost to be warbled in the ears 
of her lover by the < heavenly Rosalind.' This barbarism, however, it is due to Mr 
Macready to observe, was suppressed in the last Drury-Lane revival of this play 

(P. 237) : The comparatively low popular notions respecting the character of 
Rosalind can be rapidly and thoroughly rectified only by a true Shakespearian 
actress, in the highest and most peculiar sense of the term. She must no more be 
either a tragic or a comic performer, in the limited and exclusive sense, than the As 
You Like It \b A comedy, or Cymbeiine, for instance, is a tragedy, in the narrow sig- 
nification. Indeed, the power of competently personating Imogen affords of itself a 
far greater presumption of capacity for enacting Rosalind than is to be inferred from 
the most perfect performaAce of all the properly comic parts in the world. These 
are two of the noblest and most exquisitely compounded among the ideal women of 
.Shakespeare, each th^ ascendant character in the drama to which she belongs. In 
tx>th we find the same essential tenderness, — ^the same clear and prompt intelligence, 
— the same consummate grace and self-possession in enacting those masculine parts 
which the exigencies of their fortune compel them to assume. The deeper pathos 
and the graver wisdom which lend a more solemn though scarcely more tender 
colouring to the character of Imogen, seem hardly more than may be sufHciently 
accounted for by that maturer development which one and the same original cha- 
racter would receive from the maturer years, the graver position, and more tragic 
trials of the wife, in which the heroine of Cymbeline is set before us, — as compared 
with that early bloom, and those fond anxieties of youthful courtship, which we 
behold in Rosalind. Each, too, let us observe, is a princely heiress, bestowing her 
affections upon 'a poor but worthy gentleman.* 

[Fletcher, who in his admirable Essays acknowledges his indebtedness at every 
step to Miss Helen Faucit (Lady Martin) for her living revelations of Shakespeare's 
heroines, quotes a striking sentence from Tht Edinburgh Observer (20th Feb., 1S46) 
as follows : ' The secret of Miss Helen Faucit's excellence lies in her fine intuitions 
*• of human character in its most diverse aspects, and knowing that the deepest and 

< most delicate sportiveness springs only from an earnest and sensitive nature, to which 

< thoughtfulness and the capacity of strong emotion are habitual.'] 

/ Hudson {Introduction^ p. 19, 1S80) : It is something miceitain whether Jaques 

or Rosalind be the greater attraction ; there is enough in either to make the play a 
continual feast ; though her charms are less liable to be staled by use, because they 
result from health of mind and symmetry of character; so that in her presence 
the head and the heart draw together perfectly. I mean that she never starts any 
moral or emotional reluctances in our converse with her; all our sympathies go 
along with her freely, because she never jars upon them or touches them against 
the grain. 

For wit, this strange, queer, lovely being is fiilly equal to Beatrice, yet nowise 

' resembling her. A soft, subtile, nimble essence, consisting in one knows not what, 
and ^)ringing up one can hardly tell how, her wit neither stings nor burns, but plays 
briskly and airily over all things within its reach, emriching and adorning them ; inso- 
much that one could ask no greater pleasure than to be the continual theme of it. In 
its irrepressible vivacity it waits not for occanon, but runs on for ever, and we wish it 
to run on for ever : we have a sort of faith that her dreams are made up of cunning, 
quirkish, graceful fancies ; her wits being in a frolic even when she is asleep. And 



4o8 APPENDIX 

her heart seems a perennial spring of affectionate cheerfulness : no trial can break, no 
sorrow chill, her flow of spirits ; even her sighs are breathed forth in a wrappage of 
innocent mirth ; an arch, roguish smile irradiates her saddest tears. No sort of 
unhappincss can live in her company: it is a joy even to stand her chiding; for, 
'faster than her tongue doth make offense, her eye doth heal it up.' 

So much for her choice idiom of wit. But I must not pass from this part of the 
theme without noting also how aptly she illustrates the Poet's peculiar use of humour. 
For I suppose the difference of wit and humour is too well understood to need any 
special exposition. But the two often go together; though there is a form of wit, 
much more common, that bums and dries the juices all out of the mind, and turns it 
into a kind of sharp, stinging wire. Now Rosalind's sweet establishment is thor- 
oughly saturated with humour, and this too of the freshest and wholesomest quality. 
And the effect of her hiunour is, as it were, to lubricate all her faculties, and make 
her thoughts run brisk and glib even when grief has possession of her heart. Through 
this interfusive power her organs of play are held in perfect concert with her springs 
of serious thought. Hence she is outwardly merry and inwardly sad at the same 
time. We may justly say that she laughs out her sadness, or plays out her serious- 
ness : the sorrow that is swelling her breast puts her wits and spirits into a frolic ; 
and in the mirth that overflows through her tongue we have a relish of the grief with 
which her heart is charged. And our sympathy with her inward state is the more 
divinely moved, forasmuch as she thus, with indescribable delicacy, touches it 
through a masquerade of playfulness. Yet, beneath all her frolicsomeness, we feel 
that there is a firm basis of thought and womanly dignity ; so that she never laughs 
away our respect. 

It is quite remarkable how, in respect of her disguise, Rosalind just reverses the 
conduct of Viola, yet with much the same effect. For though she seems as much at 
home in her male attire as if she had always worn it, this never strikes us otherwise 
than as an exercise of skill for the perfecting of her masquerade. And on the same 
principle her occasional freedoms of speech serve to deepen our sense of her innate 
delicacy ; they being manifestly intended as a part of her disguise, and springing 
from the feeling that it is far less indelicate to go a little out of her character in order 
to prevent any suspicion of her sex, than it would be to hazard such a suspicion by 
keeping strictly within her character. In other words, her free talk bears much the 
same relation to her character as her dress does to her person, and is therefore 
becoming to her even on the score of feminine modesty. — Celia appears well worthy 
of a place beside her whose love she shares and repays. Instinct with the soul of 
moral beauty and female tenderness, the friendship of these more-than-sisteis ' mounts 
to the seat of grace within the mind.' 



^AQUEl 

Hazlitt (p. 306, 181 7) : Jacques isthe^nly purely contemplative character in 
Shakespeare. He thinks, and does nothing. His whole occupation is to amuse his 
mind, and he is totally regardless of his body and his fortunes. He is the prince of 
philosophical idlers ; his only passion is thought ; he sets no value on anything but as 

it serves as food for reflection He resents Orlando's passion for Rosalind as 

some disparagement of his own passion for abstract truth ; and leaves the Duke, as 
soon as he is restored to his sovereignty, to seek his brother out who has quitted it and 
turned hermit. 



A^. 




ENGLISH CRITICISMS^JAQUES 409 

Skottowe (p. 346) : Jaques, the melancholy -loving Jaques, is broadly distinguished 
from the common misanthrope, who, disclaiming the sympathies of humanity, in pride 
or in revenge, mocks at the misfortunes and rails at the pursuits of his fcllow-crca- 
tures ; for the disposition of Jaques is amiable, gentle, and humane. He regards the 
world, indeed, with a jaundiced and discontented eye ; he depreciates its pleasures 
and undervalues its occupations, for he deduced the emptiness of both from his expe- 
rience. He had been, it appears, a libertine, but his powerful and highly-cultivated 
mind revolted at slavery to his passions ; the frivolity and monotony of dissipation 
disgusted him, and his high-toned moral principles triumphed over the grossness of 
sensual indulgence. The only legitimate pursuit of life he found to be virtue ; and 
the truth which he deeply felt he studiously inculcates; it is the moral his senten- 
tious wisdom teaches ; it is the weighty * matter ' of his sullen or melancholy musings ; 
which, whether capriciously intruded, or naturally arising out of the passing incident, 
are at all times welcome and effective. There is weight and dignity about As You 
Like It altogether unusual in comedy, for which it appears principally indebted to the 
presence of the moralising Jaques, whose character is not only conceived with felicity, 
but is, throughout, supported with vigour and managed with inimitable tact. It may 
be partly accounted for on the principle of contrast, that the sombre reflections of 
Jaques heighten, rather than detract from, the effect of the high-wrought comedy of 
the play. But the cause of a result so unexpected, from a combination so unusual, 
lies somewhat more remote. It is to be found in that perfect harmony which the 
genius of Shakespeare established between the two distinct features of his subject 
Had Jaques taken a saturnine view of the vices and follies of mankind, the spirit of 
comedy would have been damped by the gloom of his misanthropy. But the better 
feelings of humanity predominate in his bosom, and he never ^ves utterance to a 
sentiment which loses not its asperity in the dry humour or good-natured badinage 
which accompanies it. Nor is even the romantic character of this beautiful drama 
injured by the introduction of the sententious sage. With equal taste and judgement 
it is provided that the deep recesses of the forest, and the * oak, whose antique root 
peeps out upon the brook that brawls along the wood,' should be the scenes whence 
Jaques inculcated his lessons of philosophy and morality. 

Maginn (p. 67) : Who or what Jaques was before he makes his appearance in the 
forest, Shakespeare does not inform us, any further than that he had been a roui of 
considerable note, as the Duke tells him when he proposes to ' cleanse the foul body 
of the infected world * (II, vii, 67-72). This, and that he was one of the three or 
four loving lords who put themselves into voluntary exile with the old Duke, is all we 
know about him, until he is formally announced to us as the melancholy Jaques. The 
very announcement is a tolerable proof that he is not soul-stricken in any material 
degree. When Rosalind tells him that he is considered to be a melancholy fellow, 
he is hard put to it to describe in what his melancholy consists (IV, i, 11-20). He is 
nothing more than an idle gentleman given to musing and making invectives against 
the affairs of the world, which are more remarkable for the poetry of their style and 
expression than the pungency of their satire. His famous description of the Seven 
Ages is that of a man who has seen but little to complain of in his career through 
life. The sorrows of his infant are of the slightest kind, and he notes that it is taken 
care of in a nurse's lap. The griefs of his schoolboy are confined to the necessity 
of going to school ; and he, too, has had an anxious hand to attend to him. His 
shining morning face reflects the superintendence of one-^robably a mother— inter- 



4IO APPENDIX 

ested in his welfare. The lover is tortured by no piercing pangs of love, his woes 
evaporating themselves musically in a ballad of his own compxxsition, written not to 
his mistress, but fantastically addressed to her eyebrow. The soldier appears in all 
the pride and swelling hopes of his spirit-stirring trade. The fair round belly of the 
Justice lined with good capon lets us know how he has passed his life. He is full of 
ease, magisterial authority, and squirely dignity. The lean and slippered pantaloon, 
and the dotard sunk into second childishness, have suffered only the common lot of 
humanity, without any of the calamities that embitter the unavoidable malady of old 
age. All the characters in Jaques's sketch are well taken care of. The infant 
is nursed ; the boy is educated ; the youth, tormented by no greater cares than the 
necessity of hunting after rhymes to please the ear of a lady, whose love sits so lightly 
upon him as to set him upon nothing more serious than such a self-amusing task; the 
man in prime of life is engaged in gallant deeds, brave in action, anxious for charac- 
ter, and ambitious of fame ; the man in declining years has won the due honours of 
his rank, he enjoys the luxuries of the table and dispenses the terrors of the bench ; 
the man of age still more advanced is well-to-do in the world. If his shank be 
shrunk, it is not without hose and slipp>er ; if his eyes be dim, they are spectacled ; if 
his years have made him lean, they have gathered for him the wherewithal to fatten 
the pouch by his side. And when this strange, eventful history is closed by the pen- 
alties paid by men who live too long, Jaques does not tell us that the helpless being, 
* sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything,' is left unprotected in his help- 
lessness. 

Such pictures of life do not proceed from a man very heavy at heart. Nor can it 
be without design that they are introduced into this especial place. The momet<t 
before, the famished Orlando has burst in upon the sylvan meal of the Duke, brand- 
bhing a naked sword, demanding, with furious threat, food for himself and his help- 
less companion * oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger.* The Duke, stmck 
with his earnest appeal, cannot refrain from comparing the real suffering which he 
witnesses in Orlando with that which is endured by himself and his < co-mates.' 
Addressing Jaques, he says : * Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy,* &c. But 
the spectacle and the comment upon it lightly touch Jaques, and he starts off at once 
into a witty and poetic comparison of the real drama of the world with the mimic 
drama of the stage, in which, with the sight of a well-nurtured youth driven to the 
savage desperation of perilling his own life and assailing that of others,— and of 
weakly old age lying down in the feeble but equally resolved desperation of djring by 
the wayside, driven to this extremity by sore fatigue and himger, — he diverts himself 
and his audience, whether in the forest or theatre, on the stage or in the closet, with 
graphic descriptions of human life ; not one of them, proceeding as they do from the 
lips of the melancholy Jaques, presenting a single point on which true melancholy 

can dwell (P. 75) : Jaques thinks not of the baby deserted on the step of the 

inhospitable door, of the shame of the mother, of the disgrace of the parents, of the 
misery of the forsaken infant. His boy is at school, his soldier in the breach, his 
elder on the justice-seat Are these the woes of life ? Is there no neglected crea- 
ture left to himself, or to the worse nurture of others whose trade it is to corrupt— 
who will teach him what was taught to swaggering Jack Chance, found on Newgate 
steps, and educated at the venerable seminary of St Giles's Pound, where 

' They taught him to drink, and to thieve, and fight, 
And everything else but to read and write * ? 



\. 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS^ J A QUES 411 

la there no stripling short of conunons, but abundant in the supply of the strap or the 
cudgel ? — no man fighting through the world in fortuneless struggles, and occupied by 
cares or oppressed by wants more stringent than those of love ?— or in love itself does 
the current of that bitter passion never run less smooth than when sonnets to a lady's 
eyebrow are the prime objects of solicitude ?— or may not even he who began with 
such sonneteering have found something more serious and sad, something more heart- 
throbbing and soul-rending, in the progress of his passion ? Is the soldier melancholy 
in the storm and whiriwind of war ? Is the gallant coufronting of the cannon a mat- 
ter to be complained of? The dolorous flight, the trampled battalion, the broken 
squadron, the lost battle, the lingering wound, the ill-furnished hospital, the unfed 
blockade, hunger, and thirst, and pain, and fatigue, and mutilation, and cold, and 
rout, and scorn, and slight,— services neglected, unworthy claims preferred, life wasted, 
or honour tarnished, — are all passed by ! In peaceful life we have no deeper misfor- 
tune placed before us than that it is not unusual that a justice of the peace may be 
prosy in remark and trite in illustration. Are there no other evils to assail us through 
the agony of life ? And when the conclusion comes, how far less tragic is the por- 
traiture of mental imbecility, if considered as a state of misery than as one of com- 
parative happiness, as escaping a still worse lot ! Crabbe is sadder far than Jaques, 
when, after his appalling description of the inmates of a workhouse, he winds up by 
showing to us amid its victims two persons as being 

' happier far than they, 
The moping idiot, and the madman gay.' 

(P. 81) : Shakespeare designed Jaques to be a maker of fine sentiments, a dresser 
forth in sweet language of the ordinary common-places or the common-place mishaps 
of mankind, and he takes care to show us that he did not intend him for anything 
else beside. With what admirable art he is confronted with Touchstone ! He enters 
merrily, laughing at the pointless philosophising of the Fool in the forest. His lungs 
crow like chanticleer when he hears him moralising over his dial, and making the 
deep discovery that ten o'clock has succeeded nine and will be followed by eleven. 
When l^chstone himself appears, we do not find in his own discourse any touches 
of 8ucn"l)c6p contemplation. He is shrewd, sharp, worldly, witty, keen, gibing, 
I / observant. It is plain that he has been mocking Jaques ; and, as is usual, the mocked 
thinks himself the mocker. If one has moralised the spectacle of a wounded deer 
into a thousand similes, comparing his weeping into the stream to the conduct of 
worldlings in giving in their testaments the sum of more to that which had too much,-r- 
his abandonment, to the parting of the flux of con4>anions from misery, — the sweeping 
j^ of the careless herd full of the pasture, to the desertion of the poor and broken 
bankrupt by the fat and greasy citizens, — and so forth ; if such have been the common- 
places of Jaques, are they not fitly matched by the common-places of Touchstone upon 
his watch ? . . . . The motley fool is as wise as the melancholy lord whom he is par- 
odying. The shepherd G)rin, who replies to the courtly quizzing of Touchstone by 
such apothegms as that < it is the property of rain to wet, and of fire to bum,' is uncon- 
sciously performing the same part to the clown as he had been designedly performing 
to Jaques. Witty nonsense is answered by dull nonsense, as the emptiness of poetry 
had been answered by the emptiness of prose. There was nothing sincere in the 
lamentation over the wounded stag. It was only used as a peg on which to hang fine 
conceits. Had Falstaff seen the deer, his imagination would luive called up visions 



412 APPENDIX 

of haunches and pasties, preluding an everlasting series of cups of sack among the 
revel riot of boon companions, and he would have instantly ordered its throat to be 
cut. If it had fallen in the way of Friar Lawrence, the mild-hearted man of herbs 
would have endeavoured to extract the arrow, heal the wound, and let the hart 
imgalled go free. Neither would have thought the hairy fool a subject for reflections 
which neither relieved the wants of man nor the pains of beast. Jaques complains 
of the injustice and cruelty of killing deer, but unscrupulously sits down to dine upon 
venison, and sorrows over the sufferings of the native burghers of the forest city, with- 
out doing anything further than amusing himself with rhetorical flourishes drawn from 
the contemplation of the pain which he witnesses with professional coolness and 
unconcern. 

It is evident, in short, that the happiest days of his life are those which be is 
spending in the forest. His raking days are over, and he is tired of city dissipation. 
He has shaken hands with the world, finding, with Qtwley, that 'he and it would 
never agree.' To use an expression somewhat vulgar, he has had his fun for his 
money ; and he thinks the bargain so fair and conclusive on both sides that he has 
no notion of opening another. His mind is relieved of a thousand anxieties which 
beset him in the court, and he breathes freely in the forest. The iron has not entered 
into his soul ; nothing has occurred to chase sleep from his eyelids ; and his fantastic 
reflections are, as he himself takes care to tell us, but general observations on the 
ordinary and outward manners and feelings of mankind, — a species of taxing which 
*■ like a wild goose flies, unclaimed of any man.' Above all, in having abandoned 
station, and wealth, and country to join the faithful few who have in evil report clmig 
manfully to their prince, he knows that he has played a noble and an honourable 
part ; and they to whose lot it may have fallen to experience the hi^^piness of having 
done a generous, disinterested, or self-denying action, or sacriflced temporary interests 
to undying principle, or shown to the world without that what are thought to be its 
great advantages can be flung aside or laid aside when they come in collision with 
the feelings and passions of the world within, — will be perfectly sure that Jaques, reft 
of land and banished from court, felt himself exalted in his own eyes, and, therefore, 
easy of mind, whether he was mourning in melodious blank verse or weaving jocular 
parodies on the canzonets of the good-humoured Amiens 

Is the jesting, revelling, rioting Falstaff, broken of fortunes, luckless in life, snnk 
in habits, buffeting with the discreditable part of the world, or the melancholy, mourn- 
ing, complaining Jaques, honourable of conduct, high in moral pxxsition, fearless of the 
future, and lying in the forest away from trouble, — ^which of them, I say, feels more 
the load of care ? I think Shakespeare well knew, and depicted them accordingly. 

W. W. Lloyd (Singer's Edition, 1856, p. 122) : Jaques assuredly is wonderfnlly 
imagined ; his recurring title is the melancholy Jaques, but his melancholy, as he inti- 
mates himself, is the most wondrously original. We hear that he has been a libertine, 
and he has seen too much of the worser side of the world and of mankind, and is 
not too hopeful of the world in any form ; he gives a sour and saturnine picture of its 
people and their proceedings, and even of the course of nature's dispensations. His 
faith has received too severe a shock for it to be harmonised and braced again, eren 
by the influences of the forest of Arden. But, perhaps, his restoration is merely pro- 
ceeding. He can be already so far compassionate, as to weep while he makes satirical 
application of the sorrows of the sobbing deer ; he can so far sympathise as to might- 
ily enjoy the satire of Touchstone, and to come in merrily after the excitement and in 



V 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS-JAQUES 413 

high .iitellectoal exaltation. Again, we Bnd * him merry, hearing of a song.' In his 
advances to Orlando first, and afterward to Rosalind, he seems to have a certain crav- 
ing for sympathy, and to seek it among the young, but he gets no encouragement ; 
and with these cheerful souls his despondency and censoriousness seem the habits of 
either a fool or a cipher, or a very abominable fellow. We may not unnaturally think 
that they do him injustice ; the banished Duke foimd more matter in him than that ; 
but those of his temperament may never hope to fare better from the young, the lovely, 
and who are moreover lovers. Still, I would fain put in a good word for the humor- 
ist, who, whether from his own fierce though now exhausted passions, or from the 
world's cold manners and hard treatment, has conceived a disgust for society as it is 
for the most part to be met with, will never venture deep into its treacherous waters, 
but is content to skirt the margin, within reach of retirement at any time, and the 
more crowded company of his own thoughts. Much of this temper remains with him 
to the last, but we see that, if little disposed still for cheerful sociability, at least the 
venom has left the woimd that he bears with him, when the tenor of his parting speech 
evinces his recognition and belief of the practical reality in the Duke of patience and 
virtue deserving the happiest restoration, in Orlando of love and true faith, when he 
wishes good speed with a sympathy that is unaffected to the marriage blessings of 
Oliver and Silvius, and reserves his only barbed shaft for Touchstone, his companion, 
and ally, and fellow -satirist, and in more than one respect a representative of himself. 

Francois- Victor Hugo {^Introduction^ i860, p. 62) : Des critiques ing^nieux ont 
compart Jacques ^ Alceste. Mais Jaques n'est pas un misanthrope ; il ne hait pas les 
hommes, il les plaint ; s'il les censure, c'est par sollicitude, non par animosity. Ce 

ne sont pas les considerations mondaines qui le rendent hypocondre La mau- 

vaise humeur d' Alceste tient ^ des causes accidentelles ; il a perdu son procds, il a 
6t6 dup6 par ime coquette, il est n6 au milieu d'une soci6t6 frivole, hypocrite et cor- 
rumpue, et de U son antipathic contre Tcsp^ce humaine. Supposez qu*il ait gagn6 
sa cause, qu'il se soit fait aimer de C^limdne, et que tous les abus d^nonc^s par lui 
aient kKh r^form^s, sa misanthropie n'aura plus de raison d'etre. Transportez Alceste 
dans le milieu oil Shakespeare a plac6 Jacques, et il y a tout lieu de croire qu' Alceste 
sera satisfait. Pourquoi done Jacques ne Test-il pas ? D'od vient que la r^publique 
primitive ^tablie ^ I'ombre de la for6t des Ardennes n'a pas d^sarmi son opposition ? 
Comment se fait-il que le retour de Tage d'or n'ait pas apais^ ses murmures ? Ah I 
c'est que le spleen de Jacques est produit par des raisons profondes. Ce n'est pas 
contre la soci^ti qu'il a des griefs, c'est contre I'existence. Ce n'est pas i rhumanit6 
qu'il rompt en visidre, c'est i la nature. 

Ce qui attriste Jacques, c'est ce drame monotone dont une omnipotence anonyme 
a fait le scenario et que tous successivement nous jouons sur le th^&tre du monde ; 
c'est cette trag^die lugubre qui commence par des g^missemerts et qui finit par des 
g^missements, dont la premiere scdne est une enfance < qui vagit et have au bras 
d'une nourrice,' et dont * la scdne finale est une seconde enfance, 6tat de pur oubli, 
sans dents, sans yeux, sans goftt^ sans rien !'— Jacques a connu toutes les joies de ce 
monde, il a 6puis6 la jouissance, il a bu de la volupti jusqu' i cette lie captieuse, la 
dibauche. Et d'une sati6t6 aussi complete, il n'a gardi qu' une insondable amer- 
tume. Toutes nos dilices terrestres n'ont r^ussi qu' & I'ecoeurer. La plus haute des 
Amotions humaines, Tamour, n'est plus pour lui qu'un malaise moral. Le pire de vos 
di/autSy dit-il 2i Orlando, t^est d^Hre amoureux. Et il se dStoume avec nne sorte de 
rage de ce jeune affol6. — Nos app^tits rSvoltent Jacques autant que nos inclinations. 



414 APPENDIX 

II n*est pas jusqu' au plus frugal repas dont le menu ne lui r6pugne ; il s'indigne de 
cette voracity sanguinaire que peut seule apaiser une boucberie ; il a horreur de cette 
cuisine vampire qui ne d6pdce que des cadavres. Quand le vieux due s'en va qudrir 
& la chasse son souper du soir, il faut entendre Jacques s'apitoyer ' sur ces pauvres 
animaux tachet^, bourgeois natifs de cette cit6 sauvage, que les filches fourcbues 
atteignent sur leur propre terrain ;' il faut Tentendre d^noncer la cruaut^ du noble 
veneur et ' jurer que le vieux due est un plus grand usurpateur que son fr6re.' Ainsi 
les exigences m6mes de la faim * navrent le melancholique Jacques.' II critique la 
vie dans ses n^cessit^ 616mentaires ; il attaque, dans I'ordre physique comme dans 
I'ordre moral, la constitution m6me de I'^tre. C'est au nom de I'&me bautaine qu' il 
s'insurge contre cette double servitude impos^e ^ I'bonmie ici-bas : le besoin et la 
passion. II est incorrigible m^content qu' aucune r^forme ne satisfera, qu' aucune 
concession ne ralliera. Sa molancbolie superbe est le d^daigneux reproche jeti par 
I'id^e i la mati^re, par Tesprit au corps, par la creature & la creation. 

The Cowden-Clarkes [Note on V, iv, 201) : To our thinking the manner of 
Jaques's departure is in perfect harmony with his character throughout. We first see 
him bluff and churlish to Amiens, who sings at his request ; we see him full of churl- 
bh and affected avoidance of the Duke, who inquires for him ; we see him indulging 
in conceited and churlish rebukes upon vices that he himself had wallowed in to 
satiety ; we see him trying to disgust Orlando with his young and hearty love ; med- 
dling in Touchstone's affairs with Audrey ; attempting to persuade the shepherd-boy, 
Ganymede, that assumed madness is wisdom ; and we now see him giving an ill- 
natured fling at the jester's choice of the coimtry-girl, and morosely declining to wit> 
ness the wedding festivities, — affected and diurlish from first to last. The fact ia, 
Jaques has always been taken for what he professes to be, — a moralist ; but looked tX. 
as the Duke demonstrates him to be, and as Shakespeare has subtly drawn him, he is 
a mere lip-deep moraliser, a dealer in moral precepts, a morality-monger. 

DowDEN (p. 77) : Of real melancholy there is none in the play ; for the mdan- 
cfaoly of Jaques is not grave and earnest, but sentimental, a self-indulgent humour, a 

petted foible of character, melancholy prepense and cultivated Jaques has been 

no more than a curious experimenter in libertinism, for the sake of adding an experi- 
ence of madness and folly to the store of various superficial experiences which 000- 
stitute his unpractical foolery of wisdom. The haunts of sin have been visited as a 
part of his travel. By and by he will go to the usurping Duke who has pot on a 
religious life, because * out of these convertites there is much matter to be heard and 
learned.' 

Jaques died, we know not how, or when, or where ; but he came to life again a 
century later, and appeared in the world as an English clergyman ; we need stand in 
no doubt as to his character, for we all know him under his later name of Lawrence 
Sterne. Mr Yorick made a mistake about his family tree ; he came not out of the piaj 
of HamUiy but out of As You Like It, In Arden he wept and moralised over the 
woimded deer ; and at Namport his tears and sentiment gushed forth for the dead 
donkey. Jaques knows no bonds that unite him to any living thing. He lives upon 
novel, curious, and delicate sensations. He seeks the delicious itmprhm so loved and 
studiously sought for by that perfected French egotist, Henri Beyle Falstaff sup- 
posed that by infinite play of wit, and inexhaustible resource of a genius creative of 
splendid mendacity, he could coruscate away the facts of life, and always remain 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS— yAQUES 415 

master of the situation by giving it a clever turn in the idea or by playing over it 

with an arabesque of arch waggery Jaques in his own way supposes that he can 

dispense with realities. The world, not as it is, but as it mirrors itself in his own 
mind, which gives to each object a humourous distortion,— this is what alone interests 
Jaques. Shakspere would say to us : < This egoistic, contemplative, unreal manner 
of treating life is only a delicate kind of foolery. Real knowledge of life can never 
be acquired by the curious seeker for experiences.' But this Shakspere says in his 
non-hortatory, midogmatic way. 

FuRNiVALL (Introduction to The Leopold Shakspere, p. Iviii) : Jaques, * compact 
of jars,' is always getting out of bed on the wrong side every morning and taking the 

world the wrong way He has been a libertine, is soured, and like the rascal 

Don John in MucA AdOy he hides his bad nature under the cloak of seeming honesty 
of plain-speaking. His mission is to set everything to rights ; but God forbid he 
should take the trouble to act. He wants liberty only to blow on whom he pleases ; 
he abuses everybody, moralises, weeps sentimentally, and is a kind of mixture of 
Carlyle in his bad latter-day- Pamphlets mood, and water, with none of the grand 
positiveness of our Victorian biographer, historian, and moralist. Look at his phil- 
osophy of man's life, and what poor stuff it is ! Macbeth, the murderer, repeats it ; 
to them both, men and women are but pla]pers. 

A. O. Kellogg {Shakespeare's Delineations 0/ Insanity, &c. 1866, p. 87) : Those 
who have carefully observed the phenomena of mind as ^qiq^ed by the more delicate 
shades of diseases-shades so delicate perhaps as to be scarcely recognised by the 
ordinary observer,— ^nust have remarked that in certain cases there are mental con- 
ditions which appear at first sight almost incompatible and contradictory. This is 
most frequently illustrated in those mild, but nevertheless marked, cases of incipient 
melancholia, underlying which may frequen|tly be found a vein or substratum of 
genuine humour; so that the expression 'wrapped in a most humorous sadness' is 

neither contradictory nor by any means paradoxical Shakespeare, who observed 

everything, has furnished us some notable examples, none more so, if we except 
Hamlet, than Jaques. In the character of Jaques it is very evident that Shakespeare 

intended to represent a certain delicate shade of incipient melancholia The 

melancholy of Jaques is not so much a fixed condition of disease as the gradual 

ingravescence of the melancholic state After a careful examination of him, we 

confess our inability to discover anything more really morbid in his mental or moral 
organization than what is glanced at above as belonging to the initiatory stage of the 

disease His character contrasts most favourably with that of the Duke, who 

indulges in the grossest personalities toward him, and thereby shows that if the one 
is the nobleman, the other is, in this respect, much more the gentleman. When 
Jaques asks, * What, for a counter, would I do but good ?' the Duke replier in a 
tirade of most ungentlemanly personalities, and the way these are received and 
replied to by Jaques is characteristic of him and highly creditable to his temper and 
disposition. How charmingly he eschews all personalities, and a disposition to injure 
the feelings of individuals in his innocent railings, in his reply to the coarse railings 
and gross personalities of the Duke ! 

Hudson (Introduction, p. 18, 1880) : Jaques the Juicy. Jaques is, I believe, an 
universal favourite, as, indeed^ he well may be, for he is certainly one of the Poet's 



4i6 APPENDIX 

happiest conceptions. Without being at all unnatural, he has an amazing fund of 
peculiarity. Enraptured out of his senses at the voice of a song; thrown into a 
paroxysm of laughter at the sight of the motley-clad and motley-witted Fool ; and 
shedding the twilight of his merry-sad spirit over all the darker spots of human life 
and character, he represents the abstract and sum-total of an utterly useless, yet per- 
fectly harmless, man, seeking wisdom by abjuring its first principle. An odd choice 
mixture of reality and affectation, he does nothing but think, yet avowedly thinks to 
no purpose ; or rather thinking is with him its own end. On the whole, if in Touch- 
stone there is much of the philosopher in the Fool, in Jaques there is not less of the 
fool in the philosopher ; so that Ulrici is not so wide of the mark in calling them * two 
fools.' Jaques is equally wilful, too, with Touchstone, in his turn of thought and 
speech, though not so conscious of it ; and as he pla}'s his part more to please him- 
self, so he is proportionably less open to the healing and renovating influences of 
Nature. We cannot justly affirm, indeed, that * the soft blue sky did never melt into 
his heart,* as Wordsworth says of his Peter Bell ; but he shows more of resistance 
than all the other persons to the poetries and eloquences of the place. Tears are a 
great luxury to him ; he sips the cup of woe with all the gust of an epicure. Still, his 
temper is by no means sour; fond of solitude, he, is, nevertheless, far from being 
unsocial. The society of good men, provided they be in adversity, has great charms 
for him. He likes to be with those who, though deserving the best, still have the 
worst ; virtue wronged, buffeted, oppressed, is his special delight, because such moral 
discrepancies offer the most salient points to his cherished meditations. He himself 
enumerates nearly all the forms of melancholy except his own, which I take to be 
the melancholy of self-love. And its effect in his case is not unlike that of Touch- 
stone's art ; inasmuch as he greatly delights to see things otherwise than as they really 
are, and to make them speak out some meaning that is not in them ; that is, their 
plain and obvious sense is not to his taste. Nevertheless, his melancholy is grateful, 
because free from any dash of malignity. His morbid habit of mind seems to spring 
from an excess of generative virtue. And how racy and original is everything that 
comes from him ! as if it bubbled up from the centre of his being ; while his peren- 
nial fulness of matter makes his company always delightful. The Duke loves espe- 
cially to meet him in his ' sullen fits,' because then he overflows with his most idio- 
matic humour. After all, the worst that can be said of Jaques is, that. the presence 
of men who are at once fortunate and deserving corks him up ; which may be only 
another way of saying that he cannot open out and run over save where things are 
going wrong. 

Macdonald {The Imagination^ 1883, p. 109) : But what do we know about the 
character of Shakespeare ? How can we tell the inner life of a man who has uttered 
himself in dramas, in which of course it is impossible that he should ever speak in 
his own person ? No doubt he may speak his own sentiments through the mouths of 
many of his persons ; but how are we to know in what cases he does so ? At least 
we may assert, as a self-evident negative, that a passage treating of a wide question 
put into the mouth of a person despised and rebuked by the best characters in the 
play is not likely to contain any cautiously formed and cherished opinion of the 
dramatist. At first sight this may seem almost a truism ; but we have only to remind 
our readers that one of the passages oflenest quoted with admiration is < The Seven 
Ages of Man,' a passage full of inhuman contempt for humanity and unbelief in its 
destiny, in which not one of the seven ages is allowed to pass over its poor sad stage 



ENGLISH CRITICISMS^CELIA 417 

without a sneer; and that this passage is given by Shakespeare to the blast sensualist 
Jaques, a man who, the good and wise Duke says, has been as vile as it is possible 
for man to be, — so vile that it would be an additional sin in him to rebuke sin ; a man 
who never was capable of seeing what is good in any man, and hates men^s vices 
because he hates themselves, seeing in them only the reflex of his own disgust. 
Shakespeare knew better than to say that all the world is a stage, and all the men 
and women merely players. He had been a player himself, but only on the stage ; 
Jaques had been a player where he ought to have been a true man. The whole of 
his account of human life is contradicted and exposed at once by the entrance, the 
very moment when he had finished his wicked burlesque, of Orlando, the young 
master, carrying Adam, the old servant, upon his back. The song that immediately 
follows, sings true : ' Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.' But 
between the all of Jaques and the most of the song, there is just the difference 
between earth and hell. — Of course, both from a literary and dramatic point of view. 
The Seven Ages is perfect. 

Celia 

Charles Cowden-Clarke (p. 51): The whole of this Move at first sight* on 
Celia's part is managed with Shakespeare's masterly skill. I have always felt those 
three little speeches to be profoundly true to individual nature, where the ladies are 
questioning Oliver respecting the incident of the lioness and the snake in the forest, 
and of Orlando's timely succour. Celia exclaims, in an^azement, *• Are you hij 
brother?' Rosalind says, * Was it you he rescued?' And Celia rejoins, * Was \you 
that did so oft contrive to kill him ?' Celiacs first exclamation is surprised concern to 
find that this stranger, who interests her, is that unnatural brother of whom she had 
heard. Rosalind's thought is of her lover, — Orlando's generosity in rescuing one who 
has behaved so unnaturally towards himself; while Celia recurs to the difficulty she 
has in reconciling the image of one who has acted basely and cruelly with him she 
sees before her — ^who is speedily becoming to her the impersonation of all that is 
attractive, estimable, and lovable in man. Her affectionate nature cannot persuade 
itself to believe this villainy of him ; she, therefore, incredulously reiterates, * Was 'I 
YOU that did so oft contrive to kill him ?' And his reply is a beautiful evidence of 
the sweetness which beams transparent in her ; since it already influences him, by 
effecting a confirmation of the virtuous resolves to which his brother's generosity has 
previously given rise, and by causing him to fall as suddenly in love with her as she 
with him. He says: 

« 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I ; — I do not shame 
To tell you what 1 was, since my conversion 
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.' 

It is one of the refined beauties that distinguish Shakespeare's metaphjrsical phil- 
osophy, to show us how a fine nature acting upon an inferior one through the subtle 
agency of love, operates beneficially to elevate and purify. At one process it pro- 
claims its own excellence, and works amelioration in another. Celia's charm of 
goodness wins the unkind brother of Orlando (Oliver) to a passionate admiration of 
herself, at the same time that it excites his emulation to become worthy of her. It 
begins by teaching him the bravery of a candid avowal of his crime, — the first step 
towards reformation. Celia's loving-kindness, like all true loving-kindness, hath this 
twofold virtue and grace : it no less benefits her friends than adorns herselC 
a? 



4i8 APPENDIX 

Touchstone 

Hazlitt (p. 308, 1817) : Touchstone is not in love, but he will have a mistress as 
a subject for the exercise of his grotesque humour and to show his contempt for the 
passion by his indifference about the person. He is a rare fellow. He is a mixture 
of the ancient cynic philosopher with the modem buffoon, and turns folly into wit, 
and wit into folly, just as the fit takes him. His courtship of Audrey not only throws 
a degree of ridicule on the state of wedlock itself, but he is equally an enemy to the 
prejudices of opinion in other respects. The lofty tone of enthusiasm which the Duke 
and his companions in exile spread over the stillness and solitude of a country life 
receives a pleasant shock from Touchstone's sceptical determination of the question in 
his reply to Corin, IH, ii, 14-22. Zimmerman's celebrated work on Solitude discovers 
only half the sense of this passage. 



GERMAN CRITICISMS 

A. W. SCHLEGEL {^Lectures on DramaHc Literature, trans, by Black, 1815, vol. 
ii, p. 172) : It would be difHcult to bring the contents oi As You Like It within the 
compass of an ordinary relation : nothing takes place, or rather what does take place 
is not so essential as what is said; even what may be called the denouement is 
brought about in a pretty arbitrary manner. Whoever perceives nothing but what is 
capable of demonstration will hardly be disposed to allow that it has any plan at all. 
Banishment and flight have assembled together in the Forest of Arden a singular 
society : a Duke dethroned by his brother, and, with his faithful companions in mis- 
fortune, living in the wilds on the produce of the chase ; two disguised princesses, 
who love each other with a sisterly affection ; a witty court fool ; lastly, the native 
inhabitants of the forest, ideal and natural shepherds and shepherdesses. These 
lightly-sketched 6gures pass along in the most diversified succession ; we see always 
the shady dark -green landscape in the background, and breathe in imagination the 
fresh air of the forest. The hours are here measured by no clocks, no regulated 
recurrence of duty or toil ; they flow on unnumbered in voluntary occupation or fan- 
ciful idleness, to which every one addicts himself according to his humour or dispo- 
sition ; and this unlimited freedom compensates all of them for the lost conveniences 
of life. One throws himself down solitarily under a tree, and indulges in melancholy 
reflections on the changes of fortune, the falsehood of the world, and the self-created 
torments of social life ; others make the woods resound with social and festive songs 
to the accompaniment of their horns. Selfishness, envy, and ambition have been left 
in the city behind them ; of all the human passions, love alone has found an entrance 
into this wilderness, where it dictates the same language to the simple shepherd and 
the chivalrous youth, who hangs his love-ditty to a tree. A prudish shepherdess falls 
instantaneously in love with Rosalind, disguised in man's apparel ; the latter sharply 
reproaches her with her severity to her poor lover, and the pain of refusal, which she 
at length feels from her own experience, disposes her to compassion and requital. 
The fool carries his philosophical contempt of external show and his raillery of the 
illusion of love so far, that he purposely seeks out the ugliest and simplest country 
wench for a mistress. Throughout the whole picture it seems to have been the inten- 
tion of the poet to show that nothing is wanted to call forth the poetry which has its 
dwelling in nature and the human mind, but to throw off all artificial constraint and 



♦ •'' 



GERMAN CRITICISMS— GERVINUS. ULRICI 419 

restore both to their native liberty. In the progress of the piece itself the visionary 
carelessness of such an existence is expressed ; it has even been alluded to by Shake- 
speare in the title. Whoever affects to be displeased that in this romantic forest the 
ceremonial of dramatic art is not duly observed, ought in justice to be delivered over 
to the wise fool, for the purpose of being kindly conducted out of it to some prosaical 
region. 

Gervinus {^Shakespeare, 4th ed., Leipzig, 1872, i, 494) : The sweetest salve in 
misery, so runs ' the golden legacy ' of the Novel, is patience, and the only medicine 
for want is contentment. Misfortune is to be defied with equanimity, and our lot be 
met with resignation. Hence, both the women and Orlando mock at Fortune and 
disregard her power. All the three principal figures (or, including Oliver, four) have ' •'■'' 

this fate in common, that to all their external misfortunes, to banishment and to pov- 
erty, there is added, as a new evil (for so it is regarded) : love. Even this they strive 
to encounter with the same weapons, with control and with moderation, not yielding 
too much, not seeking too much, with more regard to virtue and nature than to wealth '*4^ 

and position, just as Rosalind chooses the inferior {nachgeborenen) Orlando, and just as 
Oliver chooses the shepherdess Celia. It is in reference to this that the pair of pas- 
toral lovers are brought into contrast : Silvius loves too ardently, while Phebe loves too 
prudishly. If this moral reflection be expressed in a word, it is Self-control, Equa- 
nimity, Serenity in outward sorrow and inward suffering, whereof we here may learn 
the price. That this thought lies at the core of Shakespeare's comedy is scarcely at 
the first glance conceivable. So wholly is every reflection eliminated, so completely 
is there, in the lightest and freest play of the action and of the dialogue, merely a 
picture sketched out before us. 

Ulrici (^Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, ii, 14, translated by L. Dora Schmitz, 
London, 1876) : The general comic view of life is reflected throughout the whole 

play, and forms the foundation and platform upon which the action moves The 

motives which set the whole in motion are merely chance, the unintentional encoimter 
of persons and incidents, and the freaks, caprices, and humours, the sentiments, feel- 
ings, and emotions, to which the various personages recklessly give way in what they 
do and leave midone. Nowhere does the representation treat of conscious plans, 
definite resolves, decided aims and objects ; nowhere do we find preconsidered or, 
in fact, deeper, motives proceeding from the inmost nature of the characters. The 
characters themselves, even though clearly and correctly delineated, are generally 
drawn in light, hurried outlines, but are full of life, gay and bold in action, and quick 
in decision ; they appear, as already said, either inconstant, variable, going from one 
extreme to the other, or possess such a vast amount of imagination, sensitiveness, and 
love for what is romantic and adventurous that their conduct, to a prosaic mind, can 
only appear thoughtless, capricious, and arbitrary ; and such a mind would be inclined to 
call them all fools, oddities, and fantastic creatures (in the same way as Sir Oliver Mar- 
text, in the play itself, calls the whole company in the forest * fantastical knaves.' [A 
doubtful interpretation. — Ed.]) And, in fact, all do exactly what and as they please; 
each gives him or herself up, in unbridled wilfulness, to good or evil, according to his 
or her own whims, moods, or impulses, whatever the consequences may prove to be. 
Each looks upon and turns and shapes life as it pleases him or herself. The Forest 
of Arden is their stage ; with its fresh and free atmosphere, its mysterious chiaroscuro, 
its idyllic scenery for huntsmen and shepherds, it is, at the same time, the fitting scene 



420 APPENDIX 

for the realisation of a mode and conception of life as is here described At 

court, in more complicated relations, in a state of impure feelings and selHsh endeav- 
ours, [such a life as just described] would lose its poetical halo, its innocence and 
gayety, and become untruth, h3rpocrisy, injustice, and violence, as is proved by the 
reigning Duke, his courtiers, and Oliver de Bois. The point of the piece seems to 
lie in this contrast ; but care had to be taken not to make it too pointed, not to make 

it a serious moral conflict Shakespeare's intention — that is, the sense in which 

he conceived Lodge's narrative and transformed it into a drama, which, as I think, 
is clearly enough manifested in the spirit and character of the whole, as well as 
reflected in the several points — is concentrated, and, so to say, condensed in the sec- 
ond and more personal contrast in which the two fools of the piece stand to one 
another. They, and the unimportant figure of the shepherdess whom Touchstone 
chooses as his sweetheart, are the only persons whom Shakespeare did not find in 
Lodge's narrative, but freely invented. This addition, however, is in so far of great 
importance, as it alone gives the original subject-matter a different character and col- 
ouring, and, so to say, forms the ideal norm, which determines the other alterationa 
introduced by Shakespeare. The two fools, by virtue of the contrast in which they 
stand to each other, mutually complete each other. The melancholy Jaques is not 
the fool by profession ; he appears rather to be a comic character par excdUnce ; but 
his meditative superficiality, his witty sentimentality, his merry sadness have taken so 
complete a hold of his nature, that it seems to contradict itself, and, therefore, upon a 
closer examination, distinctly bears the impress of folly, although it certainly is an 
original kind of folly. 

(P. 20) : He, Touchstone, the professed Fool, may frankly be declared the most 
rational person of the whole curious company, for he alone invariably knows his own 
mind ; in regarding everything as sheer folly, he, at the same time, takes it up in the 
humour in which it must be understood. 

F. Kreyssig ( Vorlesungen^ &c., vol. iii, p. 237, Berlin, 1862) : Shakespeare took 
for the subject of his drama the Pastoral Romance of Lodge, whereof the ruling idea 
is the contrast between the over-refined worn-out state of society and health-giving 
freshness of Nature. In the drama, however, both sides of the picture stand out 
clear and contrasted, and vague dissolving portraiture rises to plastic dramatic repre* 
sentation. 

[In III, i, where Oliver tells the usurping Duke that he never lov*d Orlando, and 
the Duke answers, * More villain thou. — Well, push him out of doors,* &c., Kreyssig 
exclaims, * What a significant contribution to the Natural History of political tyranny 
is contained in this answer of the Duke V and then adds :] Just as the earnest gravity 
of the dramatic action is here directed against moral principles, so, the whole piece 
through, the arrows of wit are aimed at the follies and weaknesses of the world of 
rank and fashion, the target for the merriment of the fool as well as for the acrid sar- 
casm of the misanthrope ; and, if without bitterness, at least one and all of the healthier 
natures there turn their backs on it. 

(P. 242) : And on this dark background of life \i. e. all Touchstone's descrip- 
tions of court manners] which the Poet has drawn, not in lackadaisical whinings and 
taffeta phrases, but with the vigorous colours of reality, he has painted a picture of a 
simple, natural mode of life as bright and fresh as ever quickened the weary soul of 
a worn-out citizen at the very first breath of the woods and the mountains. Through 
these scenes, in praise of which all lovers of Shakespeare unite, is wafted the refresh- 



GEORGE SANUS COMME IL VOUS PLAIRA 421 

ing earthy smell of the woods and the vivifying breeze from the moantains. Like 
the outlaws of the popular ballad, like Robin Hood and his comrades, the exiled 
Duke and his faithful friends forget under the boughs of the Forest of Ardennes loss 
and vexation, envy and ambition, with care and sorrow in their train. 

(P. 243) : For vigorous natures, temporarily out of tune, the Poet offers a whole- 
some medicine throughout this airy romantic life, which, however, is not to be 
regarded as the sentimental ideal of a normal condition which has been overwhelmed 
and lost in society. What the shepherds and shepherdesses in conventional pastoral 
poetry really are (without intending to appear so), namely, fugitives from a false 
social condition enjoying for a while a sort of masquerade and picnic freedoni — in 
place of such, Shakespeare gives us honest and true his romantic dwellers in the 
Forest of Ardennes. And this is the very reason why he catches the genuine tone 
of this careless, free, natural existence, which in the case of the ideal shepherds of 
the Spaniards, French, or Italians is cabined and confined by merely another form of 
artificial intercourse. 

[After having described the effect of the last words of Jaques : *■ out of these con- 
vertites there is much matter to be heard and learned,' and how * with these words 
the supersubtle, travelUng man of the world takes a fresh comfortless start for new 
studies in his barren knowledge,' Kreyssig goes on to say :] ( P. 250) : Thus here in 
a romantic Arcadia, the law of life prevailing in a well-ordered moral condition of 
society maintains its sacred rights. And while the genius of the British Poet, con- 
scious of its aim, rises high above the conventional forms of the South which' it had 
borrowed, many of the scenes of this comedy are transformed into a diverting parody 
of the se^mentalism of pastoral poetry. 



GEORGE SAND'S COMME IL VOUS PLAIRA 

George Sand's adaptation, Comme il votu plaira^ is another illustration of the 
impossibility of transplanting As You Like It; it takes even less kindly to French 
than to German soil. 

By way of Preface to her adaptation George Sand gives a letter which she 
wrote to R6gnier, explaining her aims. From the tone of this letter, so outspoken 
and enthusiastic in its admiration of Shakespeare, it is easy to see that wherein 
George Sand does not follow her original, it is through no lack of reverence, but 
that in all sincerity she endeavoured to adapt her version to the usages of her own 
country, or rather (to be more correct) to the fashion of the hour. * Whilst Shake- 
speare,' she says (I quote Lady Monson's translation), < abandoned himself to the 
passionate transports or the delicious caprices of his inspiration, he trod under foot, 
along with the rules of composition, certain requirements which the mind legiti- 
* mately demands — order, sobriety, the harmonies of action, and logic. But he was 
« Shakespeare ; therefore, he did well if such ebullitions were necessary to the poor- 

< ing out of the most vast and vigorous genius that ever pervaded a theatre.' It is the 
contrasts in Shakespeare, the high lights and deep shades, it seems, which, to a mind 
educated in the inflexible laws of the French drama, prove almost insurmountable 
barriers to a due appreciation of Shakespeare. ' By a strange inconsistency,' she sayi 
in another place, ' which appears incomprehensible, he placed the most divine grace and 

< chastity side by side with the most startling cynicism ; the gentleness of the angel by 



422 APPENDIX 

< the fury of the tiger ; and the most piercing sorrow in juxtaposition with untranslat- 
* able conceits of reckless license.* George Sand, therefore, deemed it * neither a 
' profanation nor an outrage to clothe this Colossus in borrowed garments — rather it is 

< a homage, rendered to the impossibility of Hnding robes of modem French fashion 
*sufficiendy grand and majestic for him/ 

It would be easy enough to be flippant and to make merry over the cut of the very 
modem French garments in which George Sand has here clothed the characters of As 
You Like It, To her, as to the Germans, the wit and charm of heavenly Rosalind are 
lost ; the melancholy Jaques fascinates her, and he becomes the hero of the play, far 
eclipsing all the rest. The treatment of such a comedy by such a woman, in our own 
day, presents so curious a problem that it is, I think, well worth while to ponder over 
a sketch, at least, of her version. 

We must bear in mind that in this adaptation George Sand is simply what her 
public made her. She merely interprets the demands of the day and speaks to 
French ears. Under this inspiration, let us trust, rather than under what is genuinely 
her own, the Forest of Arden is transformed into the Faubourg Saint- Germain, 

In the opening scene, which is laid on a lawn before the Ducal Palace, with the 
ring prepared for the wrestling, Orlando declares to Adam his determination to stay 
and see the games and the court, but, above all, the fair Rosalind; Oliver enters 
and a quarrel ensues, wherein some of Shakespeare's phrases are used, such as 
Orlando's demand for his patrimony and reproaches for his ill-treatment. Oliver calls 
Orlando *jeune dr6le,' and threatens him with a switch, which the younger brother 
snatches and flings away, but which Adam picks up and respectfully returns to Oliver, 
who calls him, as is in the original, * old dog,' and goes out leaving Orlando in tears. 
Jaques, who had entered during the quarrel and been a silent spectator, now comes 
forward and asks for an explanation of the scene from Adam, with the suggestion 
that it may have been a rehearsal for the games at hand ; — this, Orlando resents, and 
at last demands who Jaques is : * Qui je suis ?' replies the latter, * H^las ! un homme 
bien las de I'fttre.* * Si vous avez le spleen,' rejoins Orlando, * ne d^goiitez pas lea 
jeunes gens de vivre.' After some bitter comments by Jaques on that style of * living,* 
Orlando departs, having expressed his determination to try a fall with the champion 
Charles. Adam then reveals to Jaques that he has recognised him as an old adherent 
of the banished Duke, and begs to know if a place could be found at the banished 
Duke's court for Orlando. Before this point is settled Rosalind, Celia, and some pages 
enter, and Adam and Jaques retire. Celia begs Rosalind to be gay, but the latter 
explains her melancholy by revealing her suspicions that her uncle by his recent ill- 
treatment of her intends shortly to banish her. Celia assures Rosalind that when the 
succession to the throne falls to her she will restore it all again to Rosalind ; < Oh ! 
j'en fais le serment,' she adds, ' et, si j'y manque, puiss^-je devenir un monstre de 
laideur!* Touchstone enters (here called Pierre Touchard), and the original is 
somewhat followed in the story of the knight and the pancakes, but before it is 
finished Rosalind catches sight of Jaques and Adam at the back, and gazes intently 
at Jaques, of whose features she has a dim memory. Adam kisses Jaque8*s hand 
and retires ; Jaques comes forward, and asks Touchstone which of the two ladies is 
the daughter of the Duke. Celia advances and replies : 

Je suis la fille du due qui rigne. [Montrant Rosalinde.) Elle est la fille de celni 
qui devrait rigner. 

Jacques. Madame, vous ditcs plus vrai peut-6tre que vous ne pensez. 



GEORGE SAND'S COMME IL VOUS PLAIRA 423 

Celia {itonrUe de la brusqturie de Jacques). Ah ! ami, que ne prends-tu le bonnet 
de ce fou ? Tu sembles fait pwur le porter ! 

Jacques. Je sais qu' ^ la cour, il faut porter ce bonnet pour dire la v6rit6. {A 
Rosalindej en allant d eHe.) Madame, je vous apporte des nouvelles de votre p^re. 

Rosalinde. Mon p^re ! Ah ! parlez vite ! et parlez beaucoup 1 

Jacques. II m'a charge de vous dire qu' il vous souhaitait un printemps aussi vert 
que sa vieillesse. 

Rosalinde [allant d Cilia.) Embrasse-moi, chire C^lia, et Dieu soit \g\i€ ! {^A 
/acques.) £st-il toujours dans son ch&teau des Ardennes, et compte-t-il y rester 
encore ? 

Jaques is able to assure Rosalind that her father is contented and happy; and 
then becomes himself the object of the ladies' curiosity. * Je ne suis plus ce que 
j'^tais,' he says, * ne me cherchez pas dans vos souvenirs ; mon nom a change de sens 
comme tout le reste. Autrefois, ici, j'6tais pour tous Jacques le viveur et le mag- 
nifique; aujourd'hui, on m'appelle, li-bas, Jacques le rftveur et le solitaire.' He 
promises to carry a letter from Rosalind to her father, and Celia, as she retires, says 
of him : ' Son oeil est encore vif et beau ; mais sa bouche est une tombe oil le sourire 
est enseveli.' While Jaques is waiting for this letter he overhears Oliver and Charles 
plotting the death of Orlando at the wrestling, and has time only to warn Adam of it 
before the Duke and his court enter and take their places to witness the games, and 
Rosalind gives Jaques the letter. Orlando, despite Adam's agonised entreaties, 
insists upon wrestling, and is of course victorious. The Duke is angered at hearing 
his name. Rosalind gives him a chain. The Duke recognises Jaques, and trembles. 
After the games are over, and Celia, Rosalind, and Jaques are in conversation. Touch- 
stone enters hastily and announces that the Duke's suspicion against Rosalind is again 
aroused, and that, having marked her interest in Orlando, and detected her in giving 
a letter to Jaques, is convinced that she is in a conspiracy against him, and that he 
has therefore banished her. The First Act closes with the resolution of Celia and 
Rosalind to fly to the Forest of Ardennes under the escort of Jaques and of Touch- 
stone, whose thoughts, by the way, are always engrossed by eating and drinking. 

The Second Act opens in the Forest of Ardennes with the Duke, Amiens, and 
lords. A Are is lit at the back for an improvised kitchen, and valets are unpacking 
hampers and dishes. 

Le Due. Voici le lieu choisi pour notre halte. {A ses gens.) Amis, serveznous 
la collation sous ces arbres. (Aux seigneurs.) Si Jacques revient aujourd'hui, il 
saura nous retrouver ici. Puiss6-je recevoir aujourd'hui des nouvelles de ma fllle 
ch6rie et re voir la figure d'un ami fiddle ! £t vous, mes frdres, mes compagnons 
d'exil, ne vous tarde-t-il point d'entendre soupirer ou gronder notre philosophe 
m^lancholique ? . . . . Pour moi, plus il me gourmande, plus il m'int^resse, et c'est 
dans ses plus grands accds de misanthropic que je trouve du profit & I'entendre. 
J'aime alors & le contredire et it le critiquer pour I'obliger & parler davantage ; car, 
au fond de ses recriminations contre le genre humain, je vois toujours briller 
I'amour du vrai et la haine du mal, comme les claires ^toiles derri^re les nonages 
sombres.' 

Audrey appears bringing in * le lait de ses brebis et les fruits de son verger,* where- 
upon the Duke is touched and thus addresses her : < Sois toujours la bienvenue, ma 
pauvre enfant ! Ma fille est k pen pr^s de son ftge ; mais combien je me la repr^sente 
plus grande et plus belle !' Touchstone enters, much to Audrey's alarm, and while 
demanding to have the Duke pointed out to him falls to eating whatever he can lay 



424 APPENDIX 

his hands on. At last he takes an apple with the remark : ' Je prends cette pomme 
pour philosopher sur le destin de rhomme. Ce fruit n'est-il pas son image ? Que 
faisait cette pomme sur son arbre, et que va-t-elle devenir si je ne la mange ? (// 
mords dans la pomme.) C'est ainsi que, d'heure en heure, nous mdrissons, mftrris- 
sons ; et puis d'heure en heure, nous pourrissonSi poiurissons, jusqu' k ce que la mort 
nous croque et que la terre nous avale.' 

Jaques enters with Rosalind, clad as a young boy. ' Jacques !' exclaims the Duke, 
< et ma fille ? ma fille ? 

Jacques. Void une lettre d'elle. 

Le Due, Une lettre ? 

Jacques. Vous attendiez-vous done & la revoir ? 

Le Due (ouvrant la lettre). Helas I non .... Si elle est hcuretise, .... qu*clle 
reste oCi elle est bien I 

Jacqties (d Rosalinde, qui est restte loin derriire luiy d mi-voix). Approchez .... 
et parlez-lui avec precaution. 

Rosalinde. Ah ! je ne saurais lui parler ! 

Le Due (lisant la littre). Elle espdre qu'un jour on lui perraettra Ah ! si 

j'^tais moins vieux, j'aurais plus de patience. {^A Rosalinde^ qui met un genou en 
terre devant lui.) Que veux-tu mon enfant? Es-tu le fils ou le petit-fils de quelque 
ami de ma jeunesse ? £t, pour cela, on te persecute peut-6tre k la cour de mon fr^re ? 
{^Jacques fait un signe affirmatif.) Si tu cherches un refuge aupr^s de moi, sois le 
bienvenu. Mais ne compte pas faire ici une brillante carridre. Nous avons perdu la 
pompe de notre rang et trouv^ une vie plus rude pour le corps, plus saine pour I'&me. 
Ces bois nous ofifrent moins de dangers que les palais, s^jour de I'envie. Ici, nous 
n'avons & subir que la peine inflig^e k notre premier p^re, le changement des saisons 
et la necessity de devoir notre nourriture aux fatigues de la chasse ; mais, briil6 par 
le soleil ou surpris par la temp^te, je souris parfois en me disant : '* II n'y a point ici 
de flatteurs, car voilk des conseillers qui me font sentir qu'un prince est un homme, et 
nn homme est bien peu de chose ! . . . ." Mais pourquoi pleures-tu, mon enfant ? car 
je sens tes larmes sur mes mains ! Mon sort t'efifraye, et tu regrettes d'fttre venu le 
partager? 

Rosalinde. Ah ! je veux vivre prfts de vous, monseigneur ; ne me renvoyez pas I 

Jacques [souriant). Gardez-le prds de vous; il vous servira bien. 

Le Due. J'y consens ; mais qu'il me dise son nom et me montre son visage. 

{Rosalinde se relive. II la regarde avec imotion. Elle n^y pent tenir et se jette 

dans ses dras.) 

Rosalinde. Ah ! mon p^re ! c'est moi ! 

Le Due. Ma fille, ma Rosalinde ! sous ce d^guisement ! {Surprise et movement 
ghtkral.) 

Rosalinde. La crainte de vous surprendre trop vite me Pavait fait prendre en 
voyage. 

There is general rejoicing, which is restrained within due bounds by Jaques, who 
repeats, as the sum of his travels, the Seven Ages. Orlando breaks in, demanding 
food for himself and Adam pretty much as in Shakespeare. Rosalind speaks to him, 
and in an aside Orlando exclaims, ' O puissances celestes ! Rosalinde !' but, aloud, 
addresses Rosalind as ' Monsieur,' who in turn, in an aside^ says sadly, ' Je croyais 
qu'il m'aurait reconnue !' While still in doubt as to the reception which the exiled 
Duke would give to his niece, Celia, the daughter of his enemy, it is considered 
advisable to keep Celia in concealment in an old castle belonging to Jaques. Much 



GEORGE SAND'S COMME IL VOUS PLAIRA 425 

time is now devoted to the conversion of Jaques from a misanthrope to a jealous 
lover of Celia. In the midst of a conversation between Jaques, Celia, Rosalind, and 
Orlando, in which Rosalind, still in a page's dress, endeavours in vain to make 
Orlando tell the name of his love, Touchstone enters hastily, crying to them to save 
themselves and fly. In the attempt to comply they are met face to face by Charles 
the wrestler, who at the head of * une petite escorte de Gens Arm^ * has been sent 
by Duke Frederick to bring back his daughter. Out of complaisance to Orlando, his 
former antagonist and vanquisher, Charles chivalrously and gallantly declines to seize 
Celia, and, with a grace snatched beyond the bounds of truth, tells his soldiers that 
the object of their search is not present, and then retires. 

The first two or three Scenes of the Third Act are taken up with the love-making 
of Touchstone, Audrey, and William, with Jaques as the guide, philosopher and friend 
of all parties. Jaques manifests his increasing devotion to Celia by his exertions to fur- 
bish up his old mansion, and while thus occupied Orlando begs his aid in correcting 
some love-verses which he had composed, beginning : * Bonnes gens, oyez la mer- 
veille ! L' Amour, petit comme une abeille. Est venu cacher dans mon cceur £t son 
venin et sa douceur,' &c. Celia enters, and by her coquetry with Orlando so stirs 
Jaques's jealousy that nothing less than an appeal to the duello will satisfy Jaques, con- 
vinced as he now is that Orlando's verses were intended for Celia, who in vain tries 
to allay the storm. Rosalind enters, and at a word from her Orlando sheaths his 
Bword ; thereupon Jaques does the like, but Orlando is still too bashful to acknow- 
ledge that the verses were meant for Rosalind. The Duke enters and announces 
that his brother has repented and restored to him his dominions. Celia salutes Rosa- 
lind as ' ma princesse, ma souveraine ! Je te vais pr6ter foi et hommage ! mais tu 
permettras .... (elU fait signe d Roland) qu'un de E/ts amis prenne place & tes 
genoux.' Hereupon the Duke interferes, and in severe tones expresses his doubts as 
to Orlando's honesty, and commands Oliver to approach, who accuses Orlando and 
old Adam of robbing him of a sum of money before they left home, and of having 
threatened his life. Old Adam swears that the money was his own, and Jaques testi- 
fies to the plot on Orlando's life which he overheard Oliver and Charles devise. 
Thereupon, the Duke commands Oliver to be thrown fix>m a high rock ; a fine chance 
is now given to Orlando to show his magnanimity in pleading for his brother's life ; 
and he improves it Oliver is pardoned. Rosalind is given to Orlando. William 
eclipses Touchstone and carries off Audrey. Jaques declares that he will not leave 
the forest, but will bid them all farewell — ^he cannot follow thentL Thereupon, Celia, 
who is left alone with Jaques, gently confesses that her heart is his : 

Jacques. C^lia ! . . . . Non ! vous raillez ! je ne suis plus jeune I . . . . 

Cilia. Aimez-vous? 

Jacques, Je suis pauvre, triste, m6content de toutes choses 

Cilia. Vous n'aimez done pas ? 

Jacques (trafuporti). Ah ! tenez ! vous avez raison ! Je suis jeune, je suis riche, 
je suis gai, je suis heureux. Oui, oui, le firmament s'embrase Ik-haut et la terre fleurit 
ici-bas ! Je respire avec I'amour une vie nouvelle, et mes yeux s'ouvrent k la v6ritii I 
Qui? moi, m^lancholique ? Non! je ne suis pas un impie! Le del est bon, lei 
hommes sont doux, le monde est un jardin de d61ices et la femme est I'ange du par- 
don . . . . (f/ tontbe d ses piecU\ si je ne r€ve pas que vous m'aimez I 

Cilia. II doute encore ! . . . . Jacques, par les roses du printempt, par la virginiti 
des lis, par la jeunesse, par la foi, par I'honneur, je voui aime 1 A present, voolez- 
vous me quitter? 



426 APPENDIX 

Jacques. Non, jamais ! car je t'aime aussi ! Oh ! la plus belle parole que rhomme 
puisse dir&: Je t'aime ! . . . . 

Cilia. £h bien, pulsque mon p^re n'est plus ni riche ni puissant .... puisque, 
gr&ce au ciel, je puis £tre k vous, .... suis-moi ! 

Fin de Comme jl vous plaira. 



ACTORS 

BoADEN {Memoirs of Mrs Siddons^ 1827, vol. ii, p. 166) : The Rosalind Kii As You 
Like It had been a favourite character of Mrs Siddons on theatres nearer to the Forest 
of Arden; and for her second benefit this season [1785] she ventured to appear upon 
the London stage in a dress which more strongly reminded the spectator of the sex 

which she had laid down than that which she had taken up Rosalind was one 

of the most delicate achievements of Mrs Siddons. The common objection to her 
comedy, that it was only the smile of tragedy y made the express charm of Rosalind, — 
her vivacity is understanding, not buoyant S])irits, — she closes her brilliant assaults 
upon others with a smothered sigh for her own condition. She often appears to my 
recollection addressing the successful Orlando by the beautiful discrimination of 
Shakespeare's feelings : ^Gentlematty Wear this for me,* &c., I, ii, 241 ; * Orlando^ had 
been familiar, * young man ' now coarse. And, on the discovery that modesty kept even 
his encouraged merit silent, the graceful farewell faintly articulated was such a style 

of comedy as could come only from a spirit tenderly touched Mrs Siddons 

put so much soul into all the raillery of Ganymede as really to cover the very boards 
of the stage. She seemed indeed brought up by a deep magician, and to be forest 
bom. But the return to the habiliments of Rosalind was attended with that happy 
supplement to the poet's language, where the same terms are applied to different per- 
sonages, and the meaning is expanded by the discrimination of look, and tone, and 
action, — * To you I give myself, for I am yours.* 

Campbell {Life of Mrs Siddons^ 1834, vol. ii, p. 68) : The new character which 
she performed [30 April, 1785] was that of Rosalind. After a successful transition 
from the greatest to the gentlest parts of tragedy, it would have been but one step 
further, in the versatility of genius, to have been at home in the enchanting Rosa- 
lind ; and as the character, though comic, is not broadly so, and is as romantic and 
poetical as an)rthing in tragedy, I somewhat grudgingly confess my belief that her 
performance of it, though not a failure, seems to have fallen equally short of a tri- 
umph. It appears that she played the part admirably in some particulars. But, 
altogether, Rosalind's character has a gay and feathery lightness of spirits which 
one can easily imagine more difficult for Mrs Siddons to assume than the tragic 
meekness of Desdemona. In As You Like It Rosalind is the soul of the piece ; 
aided only by the Clown (and, oh that half the so-called wise were as clever as 
Shakespeare's clowns !), she has to redeem the wildness of a forest and the dulness 
of rustic life. Her wit and beauty have ' to throw a sunshine in the shady place.' 
Abate but a spark of her spirit, and we should become, in the forest scenes, as mel- 
ancholy and moralising as Jaques. Shakespeare's Rosalind, therefore, requires the 
gayest and archest representative. In a letter from Mr Young, which I have before 
me, he says, < Her Rosalind wanted neither playfulness nor feminine softness ; but it 



ACTORS^MRS SIDDONS. LADY MARTIN 427 

was totally without archness, — not because she did not properly conceive it ; but how 
could such a countenance be arch ?' Here alone, I believe, in her whole professional 
career, Mrs Siddons found a rival who beat her out of a single character. The rival 
Rosalind was Mrs Jordan; but those who best remember Mrs Jordan will be the 
least surprised at her defeating her great contemporary in this one instance. Mrs 
Jordan was, perhaps, a little too much of the romp in some touches of the part ; but, 
altogether, she had the nalv^ti of it to a degree that Shakespeare himself, if he had 
been a living spectator, would have gone behind the scenes to have saluted her for 
her success in it. Anna Seward, who, though her taste was exceedingly bad in 
many points, had a due appreciation of our great actress, speaks of her as follows in 
the part of Rosalind : < For the first time I saw the justly celebrated Mrs Siddons in 
comedy, in the part of Rosalind ; but though her smile is as enchanting as her frown 
is magnificent, as her tears are irresistible, yet the playful scintillations of colloquial 
wit, which most strongly mark that character, suit not the Siddonian form and coun- 
tenance. Then her dress was injudicious. The scrupulous prudery of decency pro- 
duced an ambiguous vestment, that seemed neither male nor female.' ' But,' Miss 
Seward adds, * when she first came on as the Princess, nothing could be more charm- 
ing, nor than when she resumed her original character, and exchanged comic spirit 
for dignified tenderness.* 

The Scotsman:* Shakespeare has, in this character of Rosalind, lefl more to 
the creative genius of the actor than perhaps in any other of his female characters. 
Hence, the author and actor have not far from equal shares in the finished work ; it 
is not merely that Miss Faucit, in her Rosalind, does justice to the reproduction of 
Shakespeare's creation ; she completes and illuminates for us his conception. The 
singularly acute and subtle sympathy by which this complement is given to the work 
of the great dramatist, produces an effect like that of sunlight on some fair land- 
scape, — beautiful before the delicate and generous light flows over it, but, after, glow- 
ing with the very perfection of theretofore unimagined loveliness. This exceptional 
partnership of author and actor imparts one of its great charms to Miss Faucit's rep- 
resentation of Rosalind ; there is so much of her own in it that we sometimes forget 
that there is in it anything not her own, and are brought back with a start to the 
remembrance that, after all, it is playing, and not real living and loving, that is going 
on before us. It may be a kind of conscientiousness of part-proprietorship in the 
character of Rosalind that in her representation of it heightens the always high finish, 
and refines the always deUcate handling, which Miss Faucit bestows on her acting ; 
certainly a more exquisite and graceful piece of dramatic art playgoers may fairly 
despair of seeing, and players of presenting. Even Shakespeare has given us no 
other such outline of an airy, romantic, sensitive female nature joined to great spright- 
liness, resolution, tenderness, and wit ; and Miss Faucit's filling in of this rare out- 
line is perfectly harmonious. Not a word, or tone, or gesture jars upon us from first 
to last ; nothing disturbs the ideal that, from Rosalind's earliest appearance, we repre- 
sent to ourselves, but every touch adds new graces and new charms. Especially in 
the sudden mutations of mood and style that so frequently occur during the adven- 
tures of Ganymede in the forest, was the perfect congruity of Miss Faucit's concep- 
tion conspicuous ; never by chance, in all these changes, did she show or hint in 

* A newspaper cutting, undated, kindly sent to me by a conrespondent. It certainly deserves 
preservation, if only for the two or three glimpses which it gives us of look, tone, or gesture in par- 
ticular passages.— £0. 



428 APPENDIX 

Rosalind aught that was not in harmony with everything that went before and was to 
come after. When, for example, after the mock marriage, Orlando is simmioned 
away to attend the Duke, and Rosalind goes off in a fit of pouting and tears, the 
counterfeiting was so admirably done as to induce the momentary fancy that her 
character had broken down under the strain of self-denying deception. But in an 
instant a radiant smile, growing to a half-railing laugh, altered the whole current, 
and gave us back the arch yet earnest woman who overflows with gayety, because 
she has in her hand all that her heart desires, and can afford to torment herself by- 
balking herself of it, because she is so sure of it Another admirable touch of 
harmonising colour, so to speak, is conveyed in the partly involuntary and nervous 
laughter that the assumed Ganymede gives way to ; with curious felicity expressing 
at once maidenly alarm lest her disguise should fail to screen her, and maidenly glee 
she can ill repress at the knowledge that the man she loves, loves her and is at her 
command. 

The Glasgow Constitutional (17 February, 1847) : So prolific is Miss Helen 
Faucit's genius, — so entirely has she adopted and improved upon the conception of 
Shakespeare, — ^that above two-thirds of the charming image, which is painted indelibly 
on every mind which witnessed it, is entirely her own. It is quite Shakespearian, but 
it is not to be found in Shakespeare. Her pantomime would be nearly as effective if 
she never said a word. The step, the smile, the arch look, the exquisite playfulness, 
the uniform grace, the passing malice, and lasting kindness of heart, are all her own. 

The Art Journal (January, 1867— cited by W. C. Russell, Representative 
Actors^ p. 410) : Like all true artists, [Lady Martin] manifestly works from within 
outward. Whatever character she assumes has a truth and unity which could be 
produced in no other way. Consider her, for example, in As You Like It. It is 
clear that she has entered into the soul of Rosalind, nor realised that alone, but all 
the life of the woman and her surroundings as well. Rosalind's words, therefore, 
sparkle upon her lips as if they were the offspring of the moment, or deepen into 
tenderness as if her very Orlaado were thrilling her heart with tones that are but 
faint echoes of her own emotion. All she says and does seems to grow out of the 
situation as if it were seen and heard for the first time. She takes us into Arden 
with her, and makes us feel, with the other free foresters of this glorious woodland, 
what a charm of sunshine and grace that clear, buoyant spirit difliised among its 

melancholy boughs Her characters seem to be to her living things, ever fresh, 

ever full of interest, and on which her imagination is ever at work. They must 
mingle with her life, even as the thickcoming fancies of the poet mingle with his. 
As, therefore, her rare womanly nature deepens and expands, so do they take a 
deeper tone and become interfused with a more accomplished grace. 



COSTUME 

E. W. Godwin (The Architect^ i May, 1875): This play refers distinctly to a 
time prior to the succession of Anne of Brittany, for her duchy was the last of the 
princedoms added to the crown by her marriage with the King of France. The time 
of the action, therefore, belongs to some period before the commencement of the six- 



COSTUME-^GODWIN 429 

teenth century, and the reign of Louis XI (1461-1483), contemporary with that of 
our Edward IV, is probably as late as we can safely place it. Architecture has very 
little to do with the scenery of this comedy. Indeed, there is no need of its intro- 
duction at all. The First Act gives : I. An orchard near Oliver's house. 2. A lawn 
before the Duke's palace. 3. A room in the palace. Now there is nothing to call 
for any buildings in I and 2, and the 3d Scene may just as well be enacted on the 
lawn (2) as in a room. In the Second Act we have for the 2d Scene a room in the 
palace, occurring again in the 1st Scene of the Third Act. Both scenes are extremely 
short, and might be omitted without doing any violence to the conduct of the plot. So, 
too, the 3d Scene of the Second Act may be the same as the 1st of the First. And as 
all the rest of the action is in the Forest of Arden, there is really no need of any archi- 
tectural scenery in As You Like It. 

The. costume of 1461-1483 was not so extravagant in France as it was in Eng- 
land. In the Court of Duke Frederick we should see doublets and gowns of silk 
velvet and cloth of gold ; rich embroideries in Venice gold, chiefly of the net and 
pine-apple pattern ; deep trimmings of fur or velvet to collars, cuffs, and skirts of 
Rosalind's and Celia's dresses ; and various other things, [such as are required for 
the] plays of Henry F/and Richard III. But there are so many MSS of this time, 
especially in the Imperial and National Libraries in Paris, and their illuminations 
reveal so many different styles of toilette, that the power of selection to a certain 
extent and within certain limits is in our hands, and our decision in these matters 
must therefore be more or less influenced by the physique of the actor or actress. 
For the more we know of the costume of the past, the more satisfied we are that we 
can avoid, if we choose, those curiosities of dress where the ludicrous is predominant, 
and which, by arousing untimely laughter, interfere sadly with the dramatic action. 

[Godwin has referred to the costume of the time of Edward IV as appropriate to 
this play, of which costume he wrote as follows in the same journal of 6 February :] 
Fashion in costume was now beginning that activity of life which is so acutely felt at 
present. Every new thing, no matter how inappropriate, provided only it were 
brought out in France, was sure to be received in England. Costly materials, such as 
silk, satin, velvet, cloth of gold, and fur of sables, were worn even by boys. Heavy 
chains of gold, and girdles of the same material and of silver gilt, were so common 
as to make it necessary to forbid the use of them, except to such persons as were pos- 
sessed of 40/. a year. In 1464, Edward IV tried to govern the fashion by Act of 
Parliament, by which only lords had privilege of wearing the indecently short jackets 
or doublets hitherto worn by knights and squires. The pikes or points of the shoes 
and boots were limited to a length of 2 inches, excepting only those of the nobility, 
who had the privilege of wearing them from 6 to as much as 24 inches long. Stuff- 
ing of wool, or as we should call it padding, was used to such an extravagant degree 
by the fine young gentlemen of the period that their shoulders looked absolutely 
deformed. In the armour there is the same padded, bulging look which we recog- 
nise in the civil costume The silk surcoat of earlier days was seldom or ever 

used, but instead of it they wore either a tabard of arms, as worn by heralds, or a 
long sleeveless cloak open at the sides. The costume of the ladies was as costly and 
extravagant as that of the gentlemen. The gowns had enormously wide borders of 
fur or velvet. Conical caps, as much as three-quarters of a yard high, were quite the 
correct thing ; loose fine kerchiefs hung from the top of them, reaching nearly to the 
ground. One of these head-dresses, when' bordered by wings, was known at the 
time by the name of ' butterfly ;' and head-dresses of this kind, made of starched and 



430 APPENDIX 

wired lawn, may yet be seen in St. L6, with the butterfly's wings and all complete as 
they were worn four centuries ago. 

[In the costume of the time of Richard III there was very little change from that 
just described.] The embroidered pattern of this time was that composed of what 
was called ' the nett and pyne apple,' a decoration that seems to have been not only 
a great favourite, but a very long-lived one. For the head, men used hats of estate, 
the rolls behind and the beeks (peeks) before ; little round caps or bonnets (don^/s), 
with fur edging and a feather, something like a lady's modem pork-pie hat ; and the 
cape with its hood. Top-boots, 9 or 10 inches higher than the knee and very long 
pointed toes, were commonly worn. The doublets and gowns were of satin, velvet, 
or cloth of gold lined with velvet, many of them being richly embroidered with per- 
sonal badges or the fashionable pattern above mentioned. In the ladies' dresses we 
note first the disappearance of the tall head-gear, and in its place we see a reasonable 
caul or net of gold confining the hair at the back of the head, with a very fine ker- 
chief stiffened into shape as in the preceding reign On ordinary occasions the 

hair seems to have been worn loosely hanging over the shoulder, au nature/. It 
requires no wonderful wit to render such a costume eminently pleasing. 

Richard Grant White {Studies in Shakespeare^ 1886, p. 242) : It would seem 
as if all the Rosalinds — all of them — ^laid themselves out to defy both Shakespeare 
and common sense in this matter [of costume] to the utmost of attainable possibility. 
When they come before us as Ganymede, they dress themselves not only as no man 
or boy in England, but as no human creature within the narrow seas, was dressed in 
Shakespeare's time. Instead of a doublet, they don a kind of short tunic, girdled at 
the waist and hanging to the knee. They wear long stockings, generally of silk, 
imagining them to be hose, and ignorant, probably, that in Shakespeare's time there 
were not a dozen pair of silk hose in all England. Nevertheless, they go about with 
nothing but light silk stockings upon their legs amid the underwood and brambles 
of the Forest of Arden. With some appreciation of this absurdity, one distinguished 
actress in this part wears long buttoned gaiters, which are even more anachronistic 
than the silk stockings. Upon their heads they all of them, without exception, wear 
a sort of hat which was unknown to the masculine head in the days of Elizabeth and 
James, — a low-crowned, broad-brimmed something, more like what is known to ladies 
of late years as a ' Gainsborough ' than anything else that has been named by milli- 
ners. If a man had appeared in the streets of London at that day in such a hat, he 
would have been hooted at by all the 'prentices in Eastcheap. There was not in all 
the Forest of Arden a wolf or a bear, of the slightest pretension to fashion, that would 
not have howled at the sight of such a head-gear. Briefly, the Rosalinds of the stage 
are pretty impossible monsters, unlike anything real that ever was seen, tmlike any- 
thing that could have been accepted by their lovers for what they pretend to be, and 
particularly unlike that which Shakespeare intended that they should be. 

Let us see what Shakespeare did intend his Rosalind to be when she was in the 

Forest of Arden Plainly, when the young princesses set forth on their wild 

adventure they did all that they could to conceal the feminine beauty of their faces. 
Celia puts herself in the dress of a woman of the lower classes. Rosalind assumes 
not merely the costume of a young man, but that of a martial youth, almost of a 
swashbuckler. She says that she will have * a swashing and a martial outside,' as 
well as carry a boar-spear in her hand and have a curtle-axe upon her thigh. And, 
by the way, it is amusing to see the literalness with which the stage Rosalinds take 



COSTUME^ WHITE 43 1 

up the text and rig themselves out in conformity with their construction, or it may be 
the conventional stage construction, of it. They carry, among other dangling fallals, 
a little axe in their belts or strapped across their shoulders. But Rosalind's * curtle- 
axe ' was merely a short sword, which she should wear as any soldierly young fellow 
of the day would wear his sword. 

Thus browned, and with her hair tied up in love -knots, after the fashion of the 
young military dandies of that time, with her boar-spear and her cutlass, she would 
yet have revealed her sex to any discriminating masculine eye had it not been for 
certain peculiarities of costume in Shakespeare's day. There were the doublet and 
the trunk-hose. Rosalind, instead of wearing a tunic or short gown, cut up to the 
knees, should wear the very garments that she talks so much about, and in which I 
never saw a Rosalind appear upon the stage. A doublet was a short jacket with 
close sleeves, fitting tight to the body, and coming down only to the hip or a very 
little below it. Of course its form varied somewhat with temporary fashion, and 
sometimes, indeed, it stopped at the waist. To this garment the hose (which were 
not stockings, but the whole covering for the leg from shoe to doublet) were attached 
by silken tags called points. But during the greater part of Shakespeare's life what 
were called trunk-hose were worn ; and these, being stuffed out about the waist and 
the upper part of the thigh with bombast or what was called cotton- wool, entirely 
reversed the natural outline of man's figure between the waist and the middle of the 
thigh, and made it impossible to tell, so far as shape was concerned, whether the 
wearer was of the male or female sex. Rosalind, by the doublet and hose that 
Shakespeare had in mind, would have concealed the womanliness of her figure even 
more than by her umber she would have darkened, if not eclipsed, the beauty of her 
face. This concealment of forms, which would at once have betrayed her both to 
father and lover, was perfected by a necessary part of her costume as a young man 
living a forest life : these were boots. An essential part of Rosalind's dress as Gany- 
mede is loose boots of soft tawny leather, coming up not only over leg, but partly over 
thigh, and almost meeting the puffed and bombasted trunk -hose. To complete this 
costume in character, she should wear a coarse russet cloak and a black felt hat with 
narrow brim and high and slightly conical crown, on the band of which she might put 
a short feather and around it might twist a light gold chain or ribbon and medal. Thus 
disguised, Rosalind might indeed have defied her lover's eye or her father's. Thus 
arrayed, the stage Rosalind might win us to believe that she was really deluding Orlando 
with the fancy that the soul of his mistress had migrated into the body of a page. This 
Rosalind might even meet the penetrating eye of that old sinner Jaques, experienced 
as he was in all the arts and deceits of men and women in all climes and countries. 
With this Rosalind, Phebe indeed might fall in love ; and a Phebe must love a man. 

Nor are the perfection of Rosalind's disguise and concealment of her sex from the 
eyes of her companions important only in regard to her supposed relations with them. 
It is essential to the development of her character, and even to the real significance 

of what she saj's and does Rosalind, for all her soft, sweet apprehcnsiveness 

and doubt alx)ut Orlando's value of that which she has given to him before he had 
shown that he desired it, enjoys the situation in which she is placed. She sees the 
fun of it, as Celia, for example, hardly sees it; and she relishes it with the keenest 
ap|)etite. If that situation is not emphasized for the spectators of her little niiysterious 
mask of love by what is, for them, the absolute and perfectly probable and natural 
deception of Orlando, Rosalind lacks the very reason of her being. To enjoy what 
she does and what she is, to give her our fullest sympathy, we must not be called 



432 APPENDIX 

upon to make believe very hard that Orlando does not see that she is the woman that 
he loves ; while at the same time we must see that he feels that around this saucy lad 
there is floating a mysterious atmosphere of tenderness, of enchanting fancy, and of a 
most delicate sensitiveness. Moreover, we must see that Rosalind herself is at rest 
about her incognito, and that she can say her tender, witty, boy-masked sayings 
undisturbed by the least consciousness that Orlando's eyes can see through the doub- 
let and hose, which at once become her first concern, her instant thought, w^hen she 
is told plainly that he is in the Forest of Arden. The perfection of her disguise is 
thus essential to the higher purpose of the comedy. Rosalind was fair; but after 
having seen her in her brilliant beauty at the court of her usurping uncle, we must be 
content, as she was, to see it browned to the hue of forest exposure and deprived of 
all the pretty coquetries of personal adornment which set so well upon her sex, and 
to find in her, our very selves, the outward seeming of a somewhat overbold and 
soldierly young fellow, who is living, half-shepherd, half-hunter, in welcomed com- 
panionship with a band of gentlemanly outlaws. Unless all this is set very clearly 
and unmistakeably before us by the physical and merely external appearance of our 
heroine, there is an incongruity fatal to the idea of the comedy, and directly at vari< 
ance with the clearly defined intentions of its writer. 

That incongruity always exists in a greater or less degree in the performance of 
all the Rosalinds of the stage. I can make no exception. In case of the best Rosa* 
linds I have ever seen, the supposition that Orlando was deceived, or that any othei 
man could be deceived, in the sex of Ganymede was absurd, preposterous. They all 
dress the page in such a way, they all play the page in such a way, that his woman« 
hood is salient. It looks from his eye, it is spoken from his lips, just as plainly as i1 
is revealed by his walk and by the shape and action of the things he walks with« 
That they should dress the part with female coquetry is, if not laudable, at least 
admissible, excusable. The highest sense of art is perhaps not powerful enough to 
lead a woman to lay aside, before assembled hundreds, all the graces peculiar to her 
sex ; but surely no artist, who at this stage of the world's appreciation of Shakespeare 
ventures to undertake the representation of this character, ought to fail in an appre- 
hension of its clearly and simply defined external traits, or in the action by which 
those traits are revealed 

(P. 256) : All this may be very true, our gently smiling manager replies ; but do 
you suppose that you are going to get any actress to brown her face and rig herself 
up so that she will actually look like a young huntsman, and play her part so that a 
man might unsuspectingly take her for another man ? O most verdant critic, do you 
not know why it is actresses come before the public ? It is for two reasons, of which 
it would be hard to say which is the more potent : to have the public delight in them, 
and to get money. It is in themselves personally that they wish to interest their audi- 
ences, not in their author or his creations She must have an opportunity to 

exhibit herself and her * toilettes ;' especially both, but particularly the latter. And, 
O most priggish and carping critic, with your musty notions about what Shakespeare 
meant and such fusty folly, the public like it as it is. They care more to see a pretty 
woman, with a pretty figure, prancing saucily about the stage in silk tights and iDehav- 
ing like neither man nor woman, than they would to see a booted, doubleted, felt- 
hatted Rosalind behaving now like a real man and now like a real woman. To 
which the critic replies, O most sapient and worldly-wise manager, I know all that ; 
and, moreover, that it is the reason why, instead of a Rosalind of Shakespeare's mak- 
ing, we have that hybrid thing, the stage Rosalind. 



JOHNSON'S LOVE IN A FOREST 433 

JOHNSON^S LOVE IN A FOREST 

In 1723, Charles Johnson, who apparently relieved his mind after the duties of 
keeping a tavern in Bow Street by unbending it over Shakespeare, had influence 
enough with Gibber and with Wilks to induce them to bring out at Drury Lane, where 
it ran for six nights, his version of As You Like 7?, which he re-named Love in a 
Forest. 

This version or perversion, with its monstrous jumble of plays, would have received 
no notice here, were it not that, curiously enough, it anticipates George Sand in 
devising a love-match and marriage between Jaques and Gelia. Johnson's Dramatis 
Persona will, of themselves, give a sufficient indication of the composite character of 
this hodge-podge : ' Jaques ; Orlando ; Alberto, the banished Duke ; Adam ; Oliver ; 
Duke Frederick ; Amiens ; Robert de Bois ; Le Beu ; Gharles, Master of the Duke** 
Academy; Rosalind; Gelia; Pyramus; Wall; Moonshine; Thisby.* 

Genest (iii, loi) gives a synopsis of the play which is more than amply ftdl, and 
is as follows : 

Act First : The wrestling between Orlando and Gharles is turned into a regular 
combat in the Lists, — Gharles accuses Orlando of treason ; several speeches are intro- 
duced from Richard II. 

Act Second: When Duke Alberto enters with his friends, the speech about the 
wounded stag is very properly taken from the First Lord and given to Jaques ; an 
improvement [sic'] which is still retained on the stage, — in the next scene between the 
same parties, notwithstanding Touchstone is omitted, yet Jaques gives the description 
of his meeting with a fool, — much, however, of his part in this scene is left out very 
injudiciously, as is still the case when As You Like It is acted. 

Act Third : The verses which Gelia ought to read are omitted, and Touchstone's 
burlesque verses are given her instead, — ^when Orlando and Jaques enter, they begin 
their conversation as in the original, and end it with part of the First Act of Much 
Adoy — ^Jaques speaking what Benedick says about women, — ^when Rosalind and Gelia 
come forward, Jaques walks off with Gelia, — Rosalind omits the account of time's 
different paces, — ^Jaques returns with Gelia and makes love to her, after which he has 
a soliloquy patched up from Benedick and Touchstone, with some additions from G. 
Johnson. 

Act Fourth begins with a conversation between Jaques and Rosalind, in which he 
tells her of his love to Gelia, — ^in the scene between Orlando and Rosalind consider- 
able omissions are made, and Viola's speech, ' She never told her love,' &c., is inserted, 
— Robert (Jaques) de Bois brings the bloody napkin to Rosalind, instead of Oliver, 
who does not appear after the First Act^ — Robert says that he (not Oliver) was the 
person rescued from the lioness, — that Oliver had killed himself, &c. — the Act con- 
cludes with the Second Scene of Shakespeare's Fifth Act, in which Rosalind desires 
all the parties on the stage to meet her to-morrow, — ^Jaques and Gelia are made in 
some degree to supply the place of Sylvius and Phebe. 

Act Fifth consists chiefly of the burlesque tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe from 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream ; this is represented before the Duke, while Rosalind is 
changing her dress, instead of Touchstone's description of the quarrel, — ^when Rosa- 
lind returns, the play ends much as in the original, except that Jaques marries Gelia, 
instead of going in quest of Duke Frederick, and that the Epilogue is omitted. 

[See also the notice in * Music,* post^ of a composition by Henry Garey, called 
The Huntsman^s S<mg, introduced in Love in a Forest."] 

28 



434 APPENDIX 

MUSIC 

Vnder thegreene wood tree. 

Act II, Scene v, Lines 3-9. 

Alfred Roffe {^Handbook of Shakespeare Music ^ London, 1 878, p. 6) : Before I 

speak for myself as to the music belonging to this beautiful pastoral, I wish to let Mr 

Linley be heard. The following are his words respecting the music for Amiens : * In 

< this charming play several songs are introduced, two of which have been delightfully 

* set to music by Dr Arne. Of both these pieces the Doctor has omitted to notice 
'some of the words; a circumstance greatly to be regretted, and difficult to be 

* accounted for. The first song, " Under the greenwood tree," is in the play followed 

* by a chorus, " Who doth ambition shun," which could not so well have been sung 

* to the opening strain, but how easily, and with what superior characteristic effect, 

* could he not have proceeded with the chorus in question.* Dr Ame's felicitous 
setting of Amiens's first song, * Under the greenwood tree,* is of course well known 
to every one who cares for Shakespeare and for music. It had at first seemed to me, 
as to Mr Linley, singular that the Doctor had not included the words, ' Who doth 
ambition shun,' in his composition,— setting them to another, or varied, strain, of course ; 
but it has since occurred to me, that at all events it does not follow, but that the Doc- 
tor may have composed ' Who doth ambition shim * as a chorus, following the stage- 
direction of * All together here,* and yet that it may never have been printed. All 
who are interested in old opera and oratorio music know how unmercifully choruses 
and recitatives are left unprinted. It must also be remembered that there is a cer- 
tain amount of most characteristic dialogue, which takes place between the close of 
Amiens's song and the introduction of the chorus. [For the purpose of showing 
that * in the drama " Under the greenwood tree ** and " Who doth ambition shun '* 
are really two distinct pieces,* Roffe here cites lines 10-37 of this same scene, and 
then continues :] Observe the expression used by Jaques, * Come, sing ; and you that 

* will not, hold your tongues.* From this it plainly seems that Jaques looks for a 
chorus ; and although Amiens replies, * I'll end the song,* that would merely relate 
to the fact that he is the leader of the rest, — the solo singer whenever, not merely a 
song is required, but also the little piece of solo requirement which often belongs to 
a chorus. 

The want which in this case Mr Linlf.y felt, he has in some measure supplied, so 
far as his own work was concerned, by composing music to the words, * Who doth 
ambition shun ' as a chorus to follow at once upon Dr Ame*8 song. Still, the 
dramatic effect is not attained, as Mr Linley has written his chorus for first and 
second sopranos and bass (with a view to performance in the drawing-room only), 
and not for male voices entirely, as required by the stage situation. 

Dr Ame's melody has been arranged as a glee for four male voices by Sir Henry 
BrsHOPy and in that form was introduced into the operatised Comedy of Errors. [He 
also arranged Dr Ame's melody for Voice and Piano in his The whole of the Music 
in As You Like It, 1824, pp. 34-37. — New Shakspere Society, p. 4.] There is a little 
three-voiced * Under the greenwood tree ' in a book of vocal compositions by Maria 
Hester Park (date, about 1790). Lastly, as far as I at present know, there is a 
very elaborate setting of the song by Stafford Smith, 1792. The first soprano part 
of this composition, which is a glee for four voices, is of a somewhat florid character, 
and the glee altogether is one which I doubt not, if it were skilfully performed, would 
give much pleasure to the Shakespearian musician. 



MUSIC 435 

The New Shaksfere Society \LUt cf Songs, &c., Series VIII, Miscellanies, 
^o* Z% P* 4) ^A'dA the following settings : 

Edward Smith Biggs, about 1800. Three voices. 

G, A, Macfarrbs, 1869. Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass. Novello's Fart-Song 
Book. 

H. IV. Wareing, 1878. Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass. Part-Song. Novello. 

[In OechelhAuser's adaptation for the German stage (1870), a setting, as a duet, 
of this song is given, composed by Ed. Tniele, Hof kapellmeister in Dessau.] 

Blow, blow, thou winter winde. 

Act II, Scene vii. Lines 185-197. 

ROFFE (^Ibidy p. 9) : Dr Arne's beautiful setting of this song is of course known 
to every one who thinks of Shakespeare and music. It does, however, really seem 
somewhat singular that the Doctor should have omitted to set the burthen * Heigh, 
ho ! the holly,' &c. It cannot but be considered as a great mistake not to have set 
the poem entire. Mr Linley has remarked upon the fact of this omission, and has 
accordingly composed the music himself for the burthen, and has added it to Dr 
Ame*s melody. Mr Linley, as I imagine, has executed his self-imposed task very 
felicitously, and it can hardly be conceived that any one, after hearing the song with 
Mr Linley's addition, would ever desire to hear the Doctor's beautiful melody with- 
out Shakespeare's * Heigh, ho ! the holly,' as made musical by Mr Linley. N. B.— 
Any baritone, desirous of singing Amiens's song with Linley's addition, will find the 
whole flow on very pleasantly by transposition into the key of Ebi which will then 
make the highest note fall on the upper F. 

Mr jr. J. Stevens has set this song in its entirety as a four-voiced glee, for 
soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, producing a very attractive composition of its kind ; 
and Sir Henry Bishop, having harmonised Dr Arne's air for four male voices (to be 
introduced into the operatised Comedy of Errors), has added, with the proper 
acknowledgement to Mr Stevens, the burthen from his glee. In this case Sir Henry 
has raised the key from B b, the original key, as sung by Mr Lowe (at least according 
to the printed copy), to C, so as to use an alto voice for the melody, accompanied by 
two tenors and a bass. Of Dr Arne's melody, strictly, there is another arrangement, 
as a glee for four male voices, by the eminent glee composer John Danby. In this 
case the original key is retained, so that the glee might be called one for three tenors 
and a bass. 

In a collection of Vocal Music composed by Samuel Webbe, the younger, pub- 
lished about 1830, will be found an elaborate setting of this song as a glee for five 
voices. 

There is a setting of this song by the Hon. Mrs Dyce Sombre, This is a slow 
air (in the key of D), and suitable for either contralto or baritone, or, indeed, for any 
voice, the com})ass being only from the lower CI to D. The melody is simple, and 
not without a certain feeling, however remote from the merits of that of Dr Ame. 
The burthen * Heigh, ho,' &c. is omitted. 

There is also a setting of this song by Agnes Zimmerman, which I find reviewed 
in 77te Athenaum for 27 June, 1863. I transcribe the words of the critic, who, of 
this and of another composition by Miss Zimmerman, writes that they * go far to jus- 

* tify the reputation gained by this young lady in the Royal Academy.* The critic 
then goes on to give his view, that ' there is a certain ungraciousness of character in 

* the Shakespeare song, referable, no doubt, to the words ; but be it right, be it wrong. 



436 APPENDIX 

* we prefer Ame's rendering. The mixture of melancholy, melody, and freshness in 
his setting is almost unparagoned in the library of Shakespeare's songs.' 

The latest setting of this song, that I have heard of, is a < part-song ' composed by 
^. ScHACHNERf and published in 1865. 

The New Shakspere Society : — 

Mrs a. S. Bartholomew (first Mounsey), 1857. Part Song. S., A., T., B. 
*Six four-part Songs,' No. 3. Novello. 

G, A. MACFARRENf 1864. Part Song. S., A., T., B. Novello. * Choral Songs,' 
No. 7. 

[In OechelhAuser's adaptation a setting of this song, as a Baritone Solo with 
male chorus, is given, composed by Ed, Tn/ele, Hofkapellmeister in Dessau.] 

From the east to westeme Inde, 

Act III, Scene ii, Lines 87-92. 
The New Shakspere SoaETY (lb. p. 5) : — 

Sir Arthur S. SvLuvASt 1865. Solo, Soprano. Gdled * Rosalind.' Metzlet 
& Co. He adds a spurious verse : * Rosalind, of many parts,' &c. [See lines 14^ 
153 of the same scene. It is hardly fair to call a verse 'spurious' which is Shake* 
speare's own. The composer merely transferred the verse, which, I think, is quito 
permissible. — Ed.] 

What shall he hatie that kild the Deare f 

Act IV, Scene ii. Lines 12-20. 
See notes and music ad loc^ pp. 227-231. 

RoFFE (p. 12) : John Stafford Smith set this song as a glee for alto, two tenoi^ 
and bass, and omitted the burthen [line 14]. This composition Mr Linley has 
transferred to his work, adapting it, however, for two sopranos and a bass, apologising, 
at the same time, for the liberty of introducing a strain for this burthen : < Then sing 
him home,' &c. Sir Henry Bishop has written for TTie Comedy of Errors^ in his 
very effective and dramatic style, a setting of this song including the burthen. Of 
this work by Sir Henry Bishop, which is in E b, and for men's voices only, in foui 
parts, it may be noted that in Tlie Shakespeare Album it is reproduced, but trans* 
posed into Ab, and arranged for soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass, soli and 
chorus. 

There is a composition by Henry Carey, called The Huntsman's Song in Love 
in a Forest, which is a setting of Shakespeare's song, with an alteration of certain 
words in the original. [Lines 16-18] are transformed into * It was the crest thy 
father wore, Thy father's father long before.* This composition by Carey, as printed, 
is on only two lines, the one vocal and the other a simple bass. There appears no 
sjrmphony either for the introduction or the close, and no parts are given for the 
chorus, which is merely indicated by the word * Chorus.' .... No doubt this is the 
same piece of music of which mention may be found in an advertisement for a benefit 
at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, upon Tuesday, 12th of May, 1723, wherein we 
are promised : < Several Entertainments of Singing and Dancing, particularly a Song 

* on the Death of a Stag. The words by Shakespeare, set to music by Mr Henry 

* Carey, and sung by Mr Ray, accompanied by French Horns, concluding with a 
Dance of Foresters.' 



MUSIC 437 

There is a three-part composition to this hunting-song by Dr Phiup Haybs, It 
is in a simple style, and I think has not the burthen, which is given by Carey. 

There is also in Warren's Collection a setting of this song by R. J, Stevens^ 
with the burthen. The composition is for four male voices. 

The New Shakspere Society {Jb. p. 6) . — 

E. EoGARy 1881. < The horn, the horn.' 

// was a Louer, and his lasse. 

Act V, Scene iii, Lines 17-34. 
See notes and music ad loCy pp. 262-263. 

RoFFE (p. 16) : [In addition to the setting of this song as a duet by Linley^ 
there is also] a setting, as a glee, by R. J. Stevens, This is one among that com- 
poser's favorite pieces. Sir Henry Bishop has likewise a setting in the solo form, 
which was sung by Miss M. Tree in the operatised Comedy of Errors. 

Lastly, I find in a Catalogue a setting of this song put down as a < part-song,'' 
composed by S. Re ay in 1862 ; and again, another ' part-song ' setting by Edward 
LoDER is to be found in the prognunme of a performance at St James's Hall on the 
22nd of April, 1864. 

The New Shakspere SoaEXY (75. p. 7) :— 

F. Stanislaus^ 1868. Solo, Soprano or Tenor. Ashdown. 

G. A. MacfarreNj 1869. Part Song, S., A., T., B. Novello. 
J(. HiLES^ 1870. S., A., T., B. Novello. 

C. H. Hubert Parry^ 1874. < Spring Song.* *A Garland/ No. 2. Contralto. 
Sung by Mad. Ant. Sterling. Boosey. 

M. B. Foster, 1876. Solo, Contralto. Alfred Phillips. Kilbum. 
J. Meissler^ 1877. 

C, Labuneyer, 1 88 1. * In the spring-time.* 

D. Davies. Part Song. First sung May 7, 1883, at the Highbury Philharmomc 
Society. 

DrJ. C, Bridge^ Nov., 1883. Part Song. S., A., T., B. Novello. 
B. LuARD Selby. Part Song. Novello. 
J, Booth. Part Song. Novello. 

Michael Watson. Part Song. S., A., T., B. Ashdown. 
[OechelhXuser gives a setting, as a duet, of this song, by Ed. T^/els, Hof- 
kapellmeister in Dessau.] 

H3rmen. Tlhen is there mirth in heaven. 

Act V, Scene iv. Lines 111-118. 
RoFFE (p. 17) : Mr Linley, after he has given the high praises due to Dr Ame^s 
compositions for the songs of Amiens, goes on to assign his reasons for not allowing 
this song of Hymen to appear at all in his work. These are Linley's words, with a 
few italics of my own : — *■ There is another song of Arne'S introduced when this play 
* is performed, which begins : " Then is there mirth in Heaven ;" bat the words are 

< not Shakespeare s^ neither does the tune bear any comparison with the pastoral air- 

< iness and originality of the former pieces.* It is curious that Linley offers not the 
least authority for his assertion [as to the authenticity of the words]. As to his 



43a APPENDIX 

remark upon Ame's setting of this Hymen song, as compared with that of Amiens's 
song, no one wotdd dispute its truth. 

Hymen's song has been set not only by Arne, but also (much more happily, to 
my mind) by Sir Henry Bishop, whose composition I heard, when Sir Henry's 
operatised As You Like It [was first brought out], most attractively given by Master 
Longhurst, who personated Hymen* There are many triplets ia the composition, 
which were executed with a most agreeable neatness. 

The New Shaksperb Society {lb. p^ 8) : In his setting of the operatised 7\uo 
Gentlemen of Verona, 1821, Sir H. Bishop has, at pp. 81-91, first a Soprano Solo of 
the first four lines of Sonnet 2^, then a Chorus made up [as follows : ' Good Duke ! 
receive thy daughter! Hymen from Heaven brought her. Such is great Juno's 
crown : To Hjnnen, honour and renown !'], and then a duet, one soprano taking the 
first four lines of Sonnet 2^, the other, the first four of Sonnet 97. 

[I have a setting composed by C. Dibdiit, arranged for the Piano by J. Addison, 
published by Caulfield. — £d.] 

Wedding is great lunos crown. 

Act V, Scene iv, Lines 144-149. 
Roffe (p. 18) : This has been set by Thomas Chilcot, whose work, Linley 
writes, ' he should have gladly introduced had he found it in any degree expressive 
* of thej^nse of the words.* Linlby considered it * too flippant for the dignity of the 
< sentiments.' He has, therefore, set the words himself, and no doubt with infinite 
superiority. Chilcof s setting, which I have seen, I take to be of about the year 
1740. [I have it arranged for the Piano by J. Addison, Caulfield. — Ed.] 

The New Shakspere Society {lb. p. 9) :— 
B. Tours, 1882. Part Song. Unpublished. 



PLAN OF THE WORK, &c. 

In this Edition the attempt is made, to give, in the shape of Textual Notes, on 
the same page with the Text, all the Various Readings of As You Like Ity from the 
First Folio to the latest critical Edition of the play ; then, as Commentary, follow 
the Notes which the Editor has thought worthy of insertion, not only for the purpose 
of elucidating the text, but at times as illustrations of the history of Shakespearian 
criticism. In the Appendix will be found discussions of subjects, which on the score 
of length could not be conveniently included in the Commentary. 



LIST OF EDITIONS COLLATED IN THE TEXTUAL NOTES. 

The First Folio 

The Second Folio , 

The Third Folio , 

The Fourth Folio 

RowE (First Edition) 

RowE (Second Edition) 

Pope (First Edition) 

Pope (Second Edition) , 

Theobald (First Edition) 
Theobald (Second Edition) . . 

Hanmer 

Warburton 

Johnson 

Capell 

Johnson and Steevens 

Johnson and Steevens , 

Johnson and Steevens 

Malone 

Steevens 

Rann 

Reed's Steevens 

Reed's Steevens 

BoswELL's Malone 

Caldecott 

Knight 

Collier (First Edition) 

Halliwell (Folio Edition) . . 
Singer (Second Edition) 

Dyce (First Edition) 

Collier (Second Edition) 

Staunton 

R. Grant White (First Edition) 
Cambridge (Clark and Wright) . . 

439 



[F.] .. . 






. . 1623 


[F,] .. . 






. . 1632 


[F3] .. . 






. . 1664 


[FJ .. . 






. .. 1685 


[Rowe i] . 






.. 1709 


[Rowe ii] 






.. 1714 


[Pope i] 






.. 1723 


[Pope ii] 






. . 1728 


[Theob. i] . 






.. 1733 


[Theob. u] . 






.. 1740 


[Han.] 






.. 1744 


[Warb.] 






.. 1747 


[Johns.] 






. .. 1765 


[Cap.] 






. (?) 1765 


[Steev.'73] . 






.. 1773 


[Steev.'78] . 






. .. 1778 


[Steev.'Ss] . 






. .. 1785 


[Mai.] 






.. 1790 


[Steev.] 






.• 1793 


[Rann] 






(?) 1794 


[Var. '03] . 






.. 1803 


[Var.'is] . 






. . 1813 


[Var.] 






. . 1821 


[Cald.] 






.. 1832 


[Knt] 






. . 1841 


[Coll. i] 






.. 1842 


[Hal.] 






.. 1856 


[Sing. H] 






. .. 1856 


[Dyce i] . 






. .. 1857 


[Coll. u] . 






. .. 1858 


[Sta,] 






.. 1858 


[Wh. i] 






.. 1861 


[Cam.] 






. .. i86j 



440 APPENDIX 

Globe (Clark and Wright) . . . . [Glo.] 1864 

Keightley [Ktly] 1864 

Charles and Mary Cowden-Clarke [Clarke] (?) 1864 

Dyce (Second Edition) . . . . . . [Dyce ii] 1866 

Clarendon (William Alois Wright) [Cla.] 1877 

Dyce (Third Edition) [Dyce iii] 1875 

Collier (Third Edition) . . . . [Coll. iii] 1877 

Rolfe [Rife] 1878 

Hudson [Huds.] i88o 

R. Grant White (Second Edition) . . [Wh. ii] 1883 

In the Textual Notes the symbol Ff indicates the agreement of the Second, 
Third, and Fourth Folios. 

The omission of the apostrophe in the F^, a peculiarity of that edition, is not gene- 
rally noted. 

The sign + indicates the agreement of RowE, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, War- 
burton, and Johnson. 

When Warburton precedes Hanmer in the Textual Notes, it indicates that Han- 
mer has followed a suggestion of Warburton's. 

The words et cet after any reading indicate that it is the reading of all other 
editions. 

The words et seq. indicate the agreement of all subsequent editions. 

The abbreviation [subs.^ indicates that the reading is substantially given, and that 
immaterial variations in spelling, punctuation, or stage directions are disregarded. 

An Emendation or Conjecture which is given in the Conunentary is not repeated 
in the Textual Notes unless it has been adopted by a subsequent editor ; nor is conj. 
added to any name in the Textual Notes unless the name happens to be that of an 
editor, in which case its omission would be misleading. 

The colon is used as it is in German, as equivalent to * namely.* 

All citations of Acts, Scenes, and Lines in Romeo and Juliet^ Macbethy Hamlet^ 
Lear^ Othello^ and The Merchant of Venice refer to this edition of those plays ; in 
citations from other plays the Globe Edition is followed. 

I have not called attention to every little misprint in the Folio. The Textual Notes 
will show, if need be, that they are misprints by the agreement of all the Editors in 
their correction. 

Nor is notice taken of the first Editor who adopted the modem spelling, or who 
substituted commas for parentheses, or changed ? to !. 

Coll. (ms) refers to Collier's annotated F,. 

QuiNCY (ms) refers to an annotated F^ in the possession of Mr J. P. QuiNCY. 

In the Commentary, the Clarendon Press Edition is cited imder the name of 
its Editor, Wright. 

Allen (ms), and sometimes simply Allen, refer to the marginal notes written by 
the late Professor George Allen, of The University of Pennsylvania^ in his copy 
of the play, which was kindly given to me by his daughters, and is now one of my 
valued possessions. 

To economise space in the Commentary, I have, in general, cited merely the name 
of an author and the page. In the following List of Books used in the preparation 
of this play, enough of the full title is given to serve as a reference. 



.. J 



PLAN OF THE WORK 441 

Holinshed: ChrsnieUi 1574 

Painter Falaif e/Pleasurt {ed. Haslewood) tS7S 

Scot Discavtrir of Witchcraft (cd. Nicholson) 1584 

GuAZZO Civitt CoHveriation (trani. Young) 1586 

Habikoton Mclitmorphosis e/Ajax (ed. Singer) 1596 

SiDVSt: Arcadia 159^ 

CoKVKT, Cnuiilitt [ed. iTjd) 1611 

moLUina: TranilaXiimB/Pliitie'lNatunilHislory I63S 

ASCKAM; ToxBphilai (Arber) 1640 

Bamatys Journal (ed. 1805) {circa) 1640 

Rav Proverb! {td. 1S17) 1670 

LangbAine : An Accmnt of lie EngliiA I}ramalic Pottt, &'e. . . . . l6gi 

"iiXX.-. Niw Mcnmirs of Milton 1740 

Drayton iVotks 1740 

TJPTOK OiservalioHi, &•[. 1746 

WkaU-EY Enquiry into tke Learning of SAaieiftare I748 

Gkk^: Critical, Itiitori^al, and Explanatory Notts 1754 

Edwahds Canons of Crilicism 1765 

PeBCV ! Reliques of Ancient English Poetry 1 765 

'O.u.-ia: Reviia! of Shakespeare's Text I76S 

Kbnkick ; Review of Johnson 1765 

Critical Review 1765 

Tyrwhitt Observations, &'c. 1766 

Faruer ; Essay en the Learning of Shakespeare 1767 

Gentleman Dramatic Ceasar 1770 

Mrs Griffith Morality of Shakespeare's Drama 1775 

Cafell's Nous, Gi'e. 1779 

Le ToUliNEL-I! Shakespeare, traduit de V Anglois,^aia 1781 

RiTSON : Remarks, 6v. I783 

XiMlYB: Dramatic Miscellanies _^s^ — 7-. -n — . , 1784 

HONCK Mason Comments, A'c. 1785 

DoviHBS: Xoseins Anglicanu ed. Waldron; ed. Knight, 18S7) .. .. 1789 
Whiter 1 Specimen efa Commentary, &-c. An attempt to explain and illus- 
trate -vaAous passages an anew principle of eriticism, derived from Locke' s 

Doctrine of the Association of Ideas 1794 

Brand Popular AnliqHities,&'e ifiotm'itA.) 1795 

Chalmers Supplemental Apology I799 

Doucs niustraliens of Shakespeare, &v. 1807 

A. W ScHLEGEL Lectures, tr«n». by Black, London 1815 

J P Kemble Acting Copy 1815 

CoLERIDCE Biegraphia Lilertiria (ed. 1874) 1817 

^KtX.^: Shakespeare and His Times 1817 

'a.Kl\.\TV: Characters of Shakespeare's Plays, b'e. 1817 

Nichols : Literary IllHslralions, &'c., vol. ii 1817 

SkoTTOWE Life of Shakespeare 1824 

BOADKS: Life of J. P. Xemile 1825 

TlecK [i/eiersetit von ScAleg'el), BetVm l8l6 

BOADEK : Memoirs of Mrs Siddoas 1827 

Harness : Shakespeare's Dramatic Works 1830 



443 APPENDIX 

fl<yi.\.\tXiHUtBryo/Englah.DramatUPattry(^i.a,^&']<^ 1831 

GalT! Lives ef !h.- t'laytr-i 1831 

Mrs Jameson : Ciaraitmui^s of Womtn 183a 

GlXitS^x Somt Aiiotmlof the English Stage 1833 

Hallam Inlr^adiBit le Ike Litrraturt of Europe 1837 

Guest : Jlhtury o/E^ngltik Rkythtiu 

Thomas Cam 1- BELL JjTamatii Works of Shakespeare 

C. A. IltiuWN Shaiespear^i Autoiiog-rnpkical Poena 

Collier Skakesfear^j Library 

Dyce Remark!, ^e. 

Hunter New IHustralions &*c 

Verplanck S!„iit!pt.ir/s IVoris. Nev YoA 

Fl^TCHER : Sfii^fii-i ,'/Si,ii,-i/-ni>r 

Marlowe : ffbris (ed. Dyce) 

Hartley Coleridge : Essays and Marginalia 

Collier : Notes and Emendations 1853 

Singer: Shah^speor/ Tixl Vindicated 1853 

DVCE! FrwA'aIrs &'c 1853 

J. V. QuiNCY MSCorreHuim in a Copy of the Fourth Folio, BoMon . . 1854 

W. S. Walker Skaiespeare't Vmi^cation 

R. G. White Shakespeare Scholar 1854 

CoLUER Smtn Ltetures 0/ Coleridge, &-e 1856 

Bathurst Remarks OHihi Differences in Siaiespear/s Poetry, e^c. .. 1857 

LlLLV DramalieiVorii^i^Vaiihail.') 

G. L. Craik English B/Shaiespeare{tA.Vi),'LaaAotL 1859 

Dyce Strictures, &•[. 1859 

Walker CrilicilF.xaminalion of the Text, 6*i-. 1859 

Lord Campbell: ShiTki-'piinr's Lrgul Acquirements, New York . . . , 1859 

S.]t3.Vl%: Pri^osed £mc!iJ:i!ioiis 

Dr J. C. BUCKNILL; Shakesptari' i Medical Kmraile^ 

MagINN : Shakespeare Papers 

F. Kei-"V3>ii; VorlesungntBier Shakespeare,^vs\\ii 

C. ■GjWdeN-Cla.BKE Shaiespeare Character!, S-f 1863 

Beisiv Shatsper^s Garden 

Bishop Wordsworth Shakespeare atid tki Bibli 1864 

R. Cahtwright Neo) Readings 

W W SttEAT Wilti4sm ofPatemi (E, E. T. Soc.) 

Kh;chtley Shakespeare Eipositor 

H. Giles Human Life in Shake^are 

tJiNGELSTEDT Wie ts tuck gefStIt 

W. L. Rushtoh ! Shakespeare's Testamentary Language 

Ellis Early English Eronunciation (E. E. T. SocO 

A.SCKMIIIT l/eierselittiai Schlegel), BerUa 

French Sha6espear4ana Genealegica 

E. A. Abbott ; Shakespearian Grammar (3d ed.) 

P. A. Daniel: Notes and Emtndatioat 

W. OechelhXuser : Wie es euch gefsllt. Filr die deutsche BUhne iearbeitet 

RvsHTON : Shakespeare's Es^huistn 

TAwNViH: fi^eseu^hgefiUa 



PLAN OF THE WORK 443 

Fr. V. Hugo : (Etwres confutes de Shakes^are^ Paris 1872 

Gbrvinus : Shakespeare (4tli ed.), Leipzig 1872 

ROFFE: Musical Triad 1872 

MoBERLY (Rugby ed.) 1872 

A. W. Ward : History of English Dramatic Poetry 1875 

Ingleby : Shakespeare HertneneuticSy or The Still Lion 1875 

J. Weiss : WU^ Humour^ and Shakespeare, Boston 1876 

H. Ulrici : Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, trans, by Miss Schmitz . . . . 1876 

F. G. Fleay : Shakespeare Manual 1 876 

Fleay : Introduction to Shakespearian Study 1877 

FURNIVALL : Introduction to The Leopold Shakspere 1877 

Ingleby : Shakespeare, The Man atid the Book 1877 

A. Roffe: Handbook of Shakespeare Music, London 1 878 

Ellacombe: Plant Lore and Garden- Craft of Shakespeare 1878 

C. M. Ingleby: Centurie of Prayse 1879 

The Cowden-Clarkes : The Shakespeare Key 1 879 

A. C. Swinburne: A Study of Shakespeare 1880 

F. F. Heard : Shakespeare as a Lawyer, Boston 1883 

Geo. Macdonald: The Imagination, Boston 1883 

J. W. Hales : Notes and Essays 1884 

Lady Martin : Shakespeare's Female Characters (Blackwood's Maga., Oct.) 1884 

G. S. B. : The Prologue and Epilogue in English Literature 1884 

Halliwell-Phillipps : Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare (5th cd.) . . 1885 

K. G.VlniTE: Studies in Shakespeare 1886 

OxoN : Analysis and Study of Macbeth and As You Like It 1886 

F. G. Fleay: Life and Work of Shakespeare 1886 

Mackay: Glossary of Obscure Words in Shakespeare 1887 

The Irving Edition (edited by Marshall and Verity), voL iv . . . . 1888 

Child : English and Scotch Popular Ballads (Part vi) 1889 

Rev. John Hunter (Longman's Series) n. d. 

Niel (Collins's Series) n. d. 

C. E. Flower : Memorial Theatre Edition n. d. 

Chappell : Popular Music of the Olden Time n. d. 

W, C. Russell : Representative Actors n. d. 

Fulton : Book of Pigeons n. d. 

A List of Dictionaries is added merely for the sake of their chronological 
order : 

Cooper's Latin Dictionary 157^ 

Florio: Hisfirste Fruites 1578 

Baaet*5 Alvearie , , . , 1580 

Florio's Worlde of Wordes 1598 

MmSHEV I Guide Into Tongues .. 1617 

BuLLOKAR : English Expositor 162 1 

MiNSHEU's Spanish Dictionary 1623 

COTGRAVE : Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues 1632 

Nares : Glossary (ed. Halliwell and Wright, 1867) 1 822 

Richardson's Dictionary 1838 

Halliwell's Archaic Dictionary , 1847 



444 APPENDIX 

Way: Promptonum Parvulorum 1865 

Eastwood and Wright : Bible Word-Book 1866 

Wedgwood's Dictionary of English Etymology (2d ed.) 1872 

Schmidt's Shakespeare Lexicon 1874 

Stratmann : Dictionary of the Old English Language 1878 

Latham's y<?^«j(7/i 1882 

Skeat: Etymological Dictionary 1882 

Murray's New English IHctionary 1884 



A, behn nnme™] •djcctitei 



A, — poor a lliousand 
Abwirptkm of definite article 



41. "S 
.. 17s 



Adam, acted by Shakespeate 

Addressed 2S1 

Adjectiies in -aile or -iile . . . . 96 

Adverbs with prelix a- . . . , 88 

Aliena, accent of 60 

AlUionce aoi 

fcm, RR.rt Jhtiu and I .. ,, 56 

Amaze confuse 31 

Ambitious , . - < . . < 109 

Amiens, RafTe on 67 

And an 199, 2IZ 

And, peculiar use of .. 156 

Answer in 161 

Anllcke, accent of 71 

Arden, Forest of 16 

Arden, H. Coleridge on . . S6 

ArEumcul- subject 135 

As namely, loitit . . ..65,244,276 

A«, omilled after j^ 54 

Aapect. astrologicall]' used ■ ■ . • 236 

Ai, ndundanl use of . . . . 233 

At JW Likt It. r,rigin of title . . 5 

Atalanla's better pan . . . . 149 

Alalanta's beets 167 

At-as(?) 114 

Athwart 19s 

Atomies, pronandatJon of . . 162 

Atlone 277 

Audrey, origin of name . . . . 4 

A week, too late S3 

Baker's copy of F, Z9S 

Bandy 250 

Banqnet — dessert IQI 



Bar, as a verti, without prepotition . . 10 

Barbary cock-pigeon 220 

Bastinado 150 

Balhurst 303, 397 

Batler 88 

Bay of Portugal 225 

Be, or have, with intransitive verbs 36 

Be, after verbs of thinking . . . . 103 

Ik-.ir Y\Ma.A\porttr ,, .. 79 

Bear, play on words . . . , 85 

Besrds 125 

Beauty, have no 301 

Be^arly — profuse 96 

Beholding 215 

Bequeath . . . . . . . , 283 

Best, Ihon wert 20 

Bestows 239 

Belter parts 43 

Better world - better age . . . . 48 

Bills, on their necks . . , . 33 

Biacuii, ilie remainder . . . , 108 

Bitter fancy 24I 

Blackwood's Maga., criticism \jj . . 395 

Blank verse zl2 

Blood, diverted 8t 

Blue eye 174 

Boar-spear 59 

Bob 113 

Body 346 

Boldened 117 

Bonny 78 

Bottom 239 

Bow, of an ox-yoke 189 

Boy, nsed contemptuously . . . . 13 

Break-promise 324 

Breath'd 40 

Breather I68 

Brief 24s 

Bring me out . . . . , , 163 

Broken music 34 

445 



Brutith wing 

Bugle 

Buighen, nat[Te . . 

Burthen of a »ong . , , , 163, a 

Burthen of a sougi meaningless 

Cage of rushes 

Call Ing ■• appellation 
Campbell, criticism b; 
Caudle, go dark to bed 
Capable impressure 
Capell on Date of Compotition 
Capon lined, Hales'i note . . 

Capricious 

Carlot 

Cast lips 

Cat aher kind 

Ceniure 

Change or chaise 

Cfaalmera on Date of Compositioii 

Chanticleer 

Chaw 

Chewing the food 

Chiasm 

Chopt or chapped 
Chroniclcis — coronera (?) . . 
Cicatrice 

Civil — Bolemn 

Cixilily 

Oap into '( 

Clapt 

aubs 

Cock-pigeon, Barbaiy 

Collier's good faith . . 
Colloquial use of verbal 
Combine — Irind 

Comfort 

Command, to take upon 

Compact 

Complain — complain of the want 
Complexion, Good my 
Conceit — imagination 
Conceit — mental capacity . . 
Condition — character 



INDEX 


114 


Confusion of ./and* 


30A, 


Confusion oft and M 


tK, 


Consent and sufferance 


227 


Conster^conslnie .. 


a6^ 


Convertites 


»43 


Cope .. .. 




Copulatives . . 


174 


Costume 


41 


Costume of Fool 


395 


Countenance 


ao4 


Counter 


200 


Courtship -court life 


SOI 




126 


Cover lay the cloth 


iHa 


Covered fioblet .. 




Cowden-aarkcB on Jaques 


•9,1 


CCowdtn-ClaikeonCelia 


145 


Cross, ploy on word 


aio 


Crow -laugh merrily 


57 


Curtelai 


.loi 




107 




SI 


Damask 


240 


Dark to bed . . 


I IS 


Daughter welcome . . 


«9 


Dead shepherd 


218 


Dear, a disyllable . . 


200 


Dear, meaning of . . 


168 


Defence — fencing . . 


"47 


Delied ..- .. 


117 


Degrees 






215 


Desperate . . 


3« 


Detect 




Diall 


90 


Diana in the Fountain 


268 


Dies and lives 


88 


Disable 


281 


Disable -undervalue 


101 


llishonest 


120 


Dislike, Staunton's note 


119 




101 




M« 


nivrrt.'.n.i,«>,i 


157 


Divination by peascods 


102 


Dog-apes . . . . 


251. 


Double comparative . . 


45 


Double negative 



INDEX 



447 



M 



« 



Dowden on Date of Composition 
criticism on play , 
on Jaques . . 

Drunkards 

Dry brain 

Ducdame 

Duke Senior and Duke Junior 

Dulcet diseases 



e and d confounded . . 

Effigies 

£^gg> <^ ill-roasted . . 

Egypt, the first-bom of 

Elder, play on word . . 

Else, redundant 

Enchantingly 

Encounter 

Entame 

Entrances marked in advance 

Envious «> malicious . . 

Erring 

Estate «* bestow 
Even a plain 
Even now => exactly now 
Every, as a pronoun 
Exile, shifting accent 
Exits, marked in advance . 
Expediently «= expeditiously 
Extent, legal term . . 
Extermined = exterminated 



Failof 

Fair =» beauty 

Fair sister 

Falcon 

Fall, used transitively 

False gallop 

Fancy «= love 

Fancy, successive meanings of 
Fantasy = fancy 

Far = fur (?) 

Fashion, pronunciation 
Favour »» resemble . . 
Fear they hope, &c. 

Feature 

Feeder -» servant 

Feign 

FcU 



87 



PAGB 

402 
414 
210 
108 

97 
61 

271 

49 

134 

139 
100 

13 

"7 

22 

157 
204 

213 

42 
148 

253 
268 

103 

282 

61 

213 

136 

136 

207 

80 

143 

253 
189 

198 

145 
201 

87 
,258 

58 

91 

238 

266 
180 

93 
184 

140 



PAOS 

First-born of Egypt loo 

Fleet 19 

Retcher on Rosalind . . . . 4C>5 

Flouting 248 

Fly, kill a 2x9 

Foggy South 204 

Food, chewing the 240 

Fool, costume of X04 

Fool, not a term of reproach . . 71 

Fond, derivation 77 

For « because . . . . 147, 199 

Forest of Arden x6 

Forked heads 69 

Formal cut 127 

Foul 185 

Frederick, confusion in names . . 28 

Free 116 

Freestone-coloured 235 

Friends may meet, &c 156 

Function 116 

Fumivall on Date of Composition . . 304 

** criticism on play . . . . 402 

" on Jaques . . . . 415 

Gamester 21 

Gargantua i6x 

Gentle 21 

Gentleman, criticism on play . . 394 

Gervinus 419 

Gesture 257 

Go = dress 161 

God buy you 165 

Goddild you . . . . 188, 271 

Gods give us joy 186 

Godwin on Costume 427 

Goldsmiths' wives x66 

Good wine needs no bush . . . . 285 

Goths 182 

Gracious 39 

Graffe 146 

Grape 249 

Gravell'd 216 

Ground 162 

Guilded and gilt 242 

Gundello 214 

Halfpence 173 

HaUfax gibbet 198 



Hallani, criticism bj' 


■ ■ 395 


Incision 


141 


Halliwell, crilicisin by 


.. 397 


Incontinent 


225 


Handketiher 


., 240 


Ind, pronunciation 


142 


Hare, -with inlraoailivc verb« 


.. 36 




295 


Have no beamy 


. , 20Z 


Infect 


146 


Having =<p[)^cGsioii. . 


-. 174 


Infinitive active used for infinitive 




Harm 


.. 142 


passive 


32 


Hailitt, criticism by 


■■ 394 


Infinitive, indefinite use of . . 16, 2$g 


" on Mo" ■ ■ 


.. 408 


Ingram On verse tests 


303 


" on Touchstone . . 


.. 418 


Inhabited 


•83 


He used for Am . .. 




Inland 


"7 


Heart, play on words 


.. 163 


In little 


148 


Heigh ho, pronunmUon .. 


.. 132 


Insinuate with 


287 


Hem. piny Ort words 


.. SO 


Instances 


127 


Hctaud, crilicismby 


■ ■ 397 


Into, accent on second syllable 


87 


Him used for ^ . . . . 




Intransitive verbs with ie or Aavt . . 


36 


Hind 


.. 10 


Irish rat 


>SS 


Hire, thrifty 


.. 81 


Irish wolves 


26a 


Holla 


.. 163 


Irks 


69 


Holly 


.. 13a 


Irregular sequence of (enses 


38 


Holy bread 


.. 191 


It, Indefinite use of 


59 


Honesty 


93. 27> 




2a 


Hooping 


■ . 157 






Horae-beasls 


.. 186 


Jameson, Mis, on Rosalind . . 


404 


Horns, Coleridge's note 


.. 23> 




1,70 


Homwork 


.. 18S 


Jaques de Boys 


8 


Housewife, pronunciation . . 


25 


Jewell in toad's head 


66 


Hudson, criticism by 


.. 398 


Johnson, Dr, criticism by . . 


394 


" onjaques .. .. 


.■ 415 


Johnson's Lout in a Fortst 


433 


" on Rosalind 


■ ■ 407 


Jointure 


2JS 


Hugo, Fr. Victor, on Jaqnea 


.. 413 


J-'das 


193 


Humorous, meaning of 


.. 46 


Juno's swans 


54 


Humorous sadness .. .. 




Jupiter or pulpiter 


»S3 


Hunter on the Text , . 


'.'. 298 


Justly - exactly 


43 


Huntress name 


■ ■ 137 






Hurtling 


■• 243 


Kellogg on Jaque, 


4>S 


Hyen 


.. ai2 


Kind-nature 


337 


Hysteron prot«ron .. 


.. 198 


Kind, some 


78 






Kindled 


172 


I and no 


.. 161 


Kisses ., ,. 19 


,216 


I used for m« 


^.47 


KnoU'd 


119 


lUfavouredly 


-■ 25 


Kreyssig 


420 


Imbossed, Fumivall's note . . 


.. 114 






Imperative mood in Stage -di 


rec- 


Lameness of Shakespeare, Erst sug- 




(ions 


40,236 


gested 


139 


Impression 


. . 20O 


Leander 


217 


Inchbald, Mrs., criticism by 


.■ 394 


Leam-teach 


^Z 


Inch of delay . . . . 


.. 158 




172 



INDEX 



449 





PAGE 




PAOI 


Leer . , . . 


. . 216 


Moralise 


. .. 72 


Lenox copy of F, . . 


.. 299 


Mortal in folly 


.. 90 


Lies, degrees of 


. . 272 


Mother 


. . 201 


Like to have 


. . 270 


Motley, costume of Fool . 


104, I07 


Like a please 


. . 290 


Much Orlando 


. . 232 


Lined— painted 


. . 143 


Mutton, a 


. . 140 


Li^ 


. . 213 


Myself— by myself 


. .. 165 


Living humour 


.. 177 






Live i* th* sun 


96 


Names, classic use . . 


. .. 95 


Lloydy criticism by , . 


•• 395 


Napkin 


. . 240 


" on Jaques 


. . 412 


Native 


.. 171 


Look you — look for you 


. .. 96 


Natural — an idiot 


.. 27 


Loved not at first sight 


. . 206 


Natural =» lawful 


20 


Love in a Forest 


•. 433 


Naught a while 


10 


Lover, both masculine and f< 


:minine 196 


Needless, active and passive 


.. 7a 






Negative, double 


. 24, 82, 85 


Macdonald on Jaques 


. . 416 


Neil, criticism by 


. . 401 


Maginn on Jaques 


.. 409 


Nest 


. . 225 


Make 


10 


New Coiut 


. .. 15 


Make the doors 


. . 222 


New fangled 


. . 221 


Mannage 


8 


Nice, an object lesson 


. . 211 


Manners 


.. 139 


Noble goose 


. . 196 


Marlowe, the dead shepherd 


. . 206 


No did ; no hath ; no will . 


. .. 56 


Marlowe's saw of might 


. . 300 


Nuptial, singular and plural 


I ..255 


Marry 


10 


Nurture . . . . 


.. 117 


Martin, I^dy, criticism by . 


. .. 398 






" " her Rosalind 


.. 427 


Oak, G)leridge's note 


.. 71 


Material 


. . 185 


Oaths, Rosalind's 


.. 234 


Matter 


.. 74 


Observance 


.. 259 


Me a myself 


•• 39 


Occasion, her husband's 


. . 223 


Means 


. . 116 


Odds in the man 


. .. 36 


Measure, a dance 


. . 270 


Of=- about, concerning 


.. 26 


Medlar 


. . 146 


Of »=» in the act of 


.. 88 


Melancholy, Jaques's 


. . 211 


Of used for by 


.. 72 


Memorie » memorial 


.. 77 


Old Justice 


. . 225 


Merely -» purely 


122, 176 


Old smell — class 


.. 32 


Meres's list of pla3r8 


. . Zo\ 


Omission of relative 


34,95 


Merry or wearie (?) 


. .. 84 


Omission of so before that . 


•. 34 


Mingled damask 


. . 209 


Omission of the preposition 


54, 76, 135 


Misconster 


. .. 46 


Omission of a and the 


. . Ill 


Misprised 


22 


Omission of plural or possess 


wve J . . 76 


Moberly, criticism by 


. .. 398 


Omission of verbs of motioi 


1 . . 40 


Modem 


. . 127 


Omittance is no quittance 


.. 209 


Modem censure 


. . 210 


Once, all at 


. . 202 


Moe 


166, 249 


Only, transposition of 


•. 39 


Monastic 


.. 177 


Open-field cultivation 


. . 264 


Moonish 


. . 176 


Or ... or . . • 


. .. 45 


Moral — moralise 
29 


.. 107 


Ort- world (?) 


. .. 105 



450 



INDEX 



PAGE 

Other, contracted \.q or . . 45 

Ovid 182 

Page, Rosalind as a . . 60 

Pageant 197 

Painted cloth 167 

Pale 57 

Palm tree 155 

Pantaloon, CapelVs note . . . . 128 

Parlous 140 

Participle implied 135 

Parts, better 43 

Part with 161 

Passion, pronunciation . . . . 91 

Pathetical 224 

Peascods in divination . . . . 89 

Peevish 208 

Penalty of Adam 61 

Perpend 141 

Persever 252 

Phebe, pronunciation . . 233, 268 

Phenix as a pliu^ 233 

Phonetic spelling . . . . 153, 214 

Place a mansion 80 

Places «> subjects of discourse . . 108 

Poetical 184 

Point device 175 

Pompous 283 

Portugal, Bay of 225 

Practise » plot 20 

Practises » stratagems . . . . 80 

Presence, play on word . . . . 33 

Presentation 277 

Presently — immediately . . . . 102 

Prevent 215 

Priest, girl goes faster than the . . 220 

Princess calls 37 

Priser . . . . . . . . 78 

Prodigal portion 1 1 

Proper names, German translation of 2 

Pulpiter, Spedding's conj 153 

Purchase 172 

Purgation, legal use . . . . 53 

Purlews 238 

Pythagoras 155 

Quail a to fail 77 

Qualities — qualifications . . . . 14 



PAGB 

Quarrel in print 274 

Question . . . . 130, 195 

Questioning 280 

Quintain 43 

Quintessence 148 

Quittance 209 

Quip .. .. ..274 

Quotidian 173 

Rabelais 139, 161 

Ragged = broken 95 

Rank, play on words . . . . 32 

Rank 143 

Rascal 187 

Raw 141 

Reason, play on words . . . . 118 

Reason of = discuss . . . . 26 

Rebellious liquors . . . . 82 

Reckoning 184 

Religious 172 

Remembered B remembering . . 134 

Remorse 54 

Removed 172 

Render «a describe 243 

Reputation, Hunter's note . . . . 126 
Repetition of prepositions . . 117, 121 

Respective construction . . . . 271 

Reverence 12 

Right X43 

Ripe 106 

Ripe sister 239 

Roberts, James 296 

Roof— house 79 

Rosalind, Spanish origin of name . . 4 

Rosalind, character of . . . . 22 

Roynish 75 

J, final, interpolated. Not the North- 
em plural .. 3i» 37, 53, 73» 25i» 257 

X, omitted in plurals and possessives 76 

Sad brow, and true maid . . 160 

Safest — surest 52 

Sadness, humorous . . . . 212 

Sale-work 204 

Sand, George 421 

Sans 107, 128 

Satirical books, burning of . . . . 30 

Sauce 206 



V. 



Saiiolo's Practise 274 

Saw of migbt 206 

Schlegel 4>S 

School •• oniietsit]' . . . . 8 

Seeming — Beeinlj 373 

Si-ems, unusual use of . . . . 9 

Seize, legHHerm 13S 

Sequence of lenKS, inegular . . 38 
Seven Ages .. .. 93,122 

Shadow — shade 226 

Shakespeare, the actor of Adam . . 129 

Sball-must 19 

She-woman 137 

Shorter — lower stature . . . . 47 
Should, use of .. .. 41,154 

Shrewd 282 

SiddoDs, Mn 426 

Sight-shape (?) 279 

Since that 207 

Since, with the past for the present 30 

Sir M a tide 3 

Sirrah Z46 

Skottowe OD Jaqnes . . . . 409 

Smaller — lower stature . . . . 47 

Smell — race, dacs , , , . 32 

Smirch 58 

Smother — smoke 48 

Snake, a tame 237 

So fond to 77 

So — provided that 33 

So when ai is omitted . . . . 54 

So omitted before tial . , . . 34 

Some, expressing qqantity , . . . 201 

Some kind of men 78 

South, foggy 204 

South Sea of discovery , . , . 158 

Speak sad brow 160 

Spheres, music of 103 

Spleen ■caprice 226 

Sport, pronunciation of, by Celia . . 31 

Squander E- scatter I13 

Stage, all the world's a . . . . 121 
fitafie-direciions, imperative mood 

of 40, 235 

Stage-letting of wrestling match . . 40 

Stain, pair of 355 

Stalking horse 276 



Sinnzo 95 

Stales — estates 283 

Slay wait for 160 

Stili constantly 4' 

Strong used for strange . . . . 50 

Subject, accent of 80 

Sutli a*uc!dcn 50 

b-udiJcnly immediately . . ■ ■ 77 

Sufferance, consent and . . 75 

Suit — dress 59, 109 

Suits, out of 42 

Sure 280 

Swashing 59 

Sweat S2 

Swoon 245 

Swore brothers 276 

Swotmd, pronondatioa . . . . 199 

Tale, thereby hangs a . . . . I07 

Taxation 30 

Ttiif .'s, irrcguljir sequence of . . 38 

'I'li.il, oiij.iTitii.insI affix .. .. 52 
Tbat-in that, for that, because, at 

which time 156 

Tliat, instead -of wAa . . . . 197 

Thatched boose 183 

The and /iy confounded . . . . 163 

The, denoting notoriety . . . . 180 

Their, used after JiiMf HnJ . . 78 

There is, with the plural . . . . 32 

Thinking, verhe of; followed by it 103 

Thou . . . you . . 14, So, S3, 134 

Thou and I am S* 

Thought — melancholy .. 226 

Thou Wert best 20 

TlT^'ii.all 254 

Ti.i-icfcmsvn«d queeo . . . . 137 

Thiiflyliire Si 

Tieck on Date of Composition . . 303 

" on Jaques and Jonson III 

Time's paces 170 

To, omitted and Inserted . . . , 268 

T.M.i .■mi.m.jjs 66 

Toadstone 66 

Tooth is not so keen . , , . 131 

Touched — infected .. .. .. 172 

Touche 153, 369 

Touchstone 60 



452 



INDEX 



PAOB 

Toward 269 

Transposition of only • . . . 39 

Travers athwart 195 

Trots hard 170 

Trowell 31 

Turn or tune 94 

inrici 419 

Unhanded 174 

Unexpressive she 137 

Ungartered 174 

Unkind 131 

Unquestionahle 174 

Untuneahle => untimeable (?) . . 264 

Up, intensive 74 

Upon command 120 

Uses of adversity, H. G>leridge's 

note 65 

Variations in different copies of 
Folios . . . . 116, 185, 196, 271 

Velvet — delicate 73 

Vengeance <» mischief . . . . 236 

Verbal nouns 233 

Verbals, used colloquially . . . . 88 

Villain 13 

Virtuous =• gifted with virtues . . 55 

Voice «= vote 92 

Wag, transitive and intransitive . . 106 

Walker's sense of rhythm . . . . 58 

Waller's apology to Charles I . . 184 

Ware 90 

Warn «= warrant (?) 216 

Warp 132 

Waste — spend 93 

Weak evils 120 

Wear «= weary , 88 

Wearie verie 115 

Weary, derivation of . . . . 88 

Week, too late a 83 

Weeping tears 90 

Well said -■ well done . . . . 102 
Wert, thou wert best . . 20, 189 

What though 187 



PACK 

What— why X95 

Wheel of fortune . . .... 24 

When — where 79 

Where you are 254 

Whether = wyi^'^ 55 

Whetstone 27 

Which, the 71 

Which — which thing .. .. 156 

Which, with repeated antecedent . . 34 

Which, used adverbially . . . . 65 

Whiles X20 

Whip for Fools 30 

Whit, not a ; redundant . . . . 140 

White, R. G., on Costume . . . . 430 

Whiter's theory 109 

Who, omitted 91 

Who, personifying irrational ante- 
cedents 199, 242 

Who — wA<7«i , , . . 169, 197 

Will, double meaning . . . . 14 

Wind — wend 190 

Winter'd 145 

Winter's sisterhood 194 

Wiseman . . . wise men . . . . 30 

Wish upon you 50 

Wit whither wilt . . . . 27, 222 

Witchcraft, Acts 3 Eliza. & I Jac. I 257 

With — by means of 157 

Withal as an adverb . . . . 20 

Without candle go dark to bed . . 204 

Women as actresses . . . . 288 

World — age 48 

World, to go to the — to be married 261 

Worm's meat 14X 

Would — will, wish 163 

Wrastle, pronunciation . . . . 15 

Wreakes, pronunciation . . . . 92 

Wrestling match, stage-setting of . . 40 

Year as a plural 256 

Year, with a plural numeral . . 171 

Yerewhile 208 

You and ^'tfwr confounded . . . . 91 

You . . . thou 14 

Your eyes . . . your judgement . . 38 



I