ACT 2, SCENE 4: The Forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, and TOUCHSTONE.

ROSALIND: O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!

TOUCHSTONE: I care not for my spirits, if my legs were
not weary.

ROSALIND: I could find in my heart to disgrace my
man's apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must                           [5]
comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought
to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore
courage, good Aliena!

CELIA: I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.

TOUCHSTONE: For my part, I had rather bear with                                     [10]
you than bear you; yet I should bear no cross if I did
bear you, for I think you have no money in your
purse.

ROSALIND: Well, this is the forest of Arden.

TOUCHSTONE: Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool                              [15]
I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but
travellers must be content.

ROSALIND: Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here;
             Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.
A young man and an old in solemn talk.

CORIN: That is the way to make her scorn you still.                                     [20]

SILVIUS: O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!

CORIN: I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.

SILVIUS: No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow:                                               [25]
But if thy love were ever like to mine--
As sure I think did never man love so--
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten.                                               [30]

SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,                                                        [35]
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.                                                                                 [40]
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

[Exit.]

ROSALIND: Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.

TOUCHSTONE: And I mine. I remember, when I was
in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him                         [45]
take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I
remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow's
dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked; and I
remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her,
from whom I took two cods and, giving her them                            [50]
again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these for my
sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers;
but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love
mortal in folly.

ROSALIND: Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.                             [55]

TOUCHSTONE: Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own
wit till I break my shins against it.

ROSALIND: Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.

TOUCHSTONE: And mine; but it grows something                                     [60]
stale with me.

CELIA: I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.

TOUCHSTONE:                           Holla, you clown!

ROSALIND: Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman.                                             [65]

CORIN:                           Who calls?

TOUCHSTONE: Your betters, sir.

CORIN:                           Else are they very wretched.

ROSALIND: Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.

CORIN: And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.

ROSALIND: I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,                                        [70]
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd
And faints for succor.

CORIN:                           Fair sir, I pity her
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her;                                         [75]
But I am shepherd to another man
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality:                                                                  [80]
Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see.
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.                                    [85]

ROSALIND: What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?

CORIN: That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing.

ROSALIND: I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,                                        [90]
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

CELIA: And we will mend thy wages. I like this place.
And willingly could waste my time in it.

CORIN: Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
Go with me: if you like upon report                                                     [95]
The soil, the profit and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

[Exeunt.]


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