READ STUDY GUIDE: Act I, scenes ii–iii |
|
Act I, Scene ii:
A Lawn before the DUKE'S Palace.
A Lawn before the DUKE'S Palace.
| [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.] |
| CELIA: |
| I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would |
| you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a |
| banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any |
| extraordinary pleasure. |
| CELIA: |
| Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I |
| love thee; if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy |
| uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, |
| I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so |
| wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously |
| tempered as mine is to thee. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in |
| yours. |
| CELIA: |
| You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to |
| have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir: for what |
| he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee |
| again in affection: by mine honour, I will; and when I break that |
| oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear |
| Rose, be merry. |
| ROSALIND: |
| From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports: let me see; what |
| think you of falling in love? |
| CELIA: |
| Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man |
| in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with |
| safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. |
| ROSALIND: |
| What shall be our sport, then? |
| CELIA: |
| Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her |
| wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. |
| ROSALIND: |
| I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily |
| misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in |
| her gifts to women. |
| CELIA: |
| 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes |
| honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very |
| ill-favouredly. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Nay; now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's: fortune |
| reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. |
| CELIA: |
| No; when nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by |
| fortune fall into the fire?—Though nature hath given us wit to |
| flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off |
| the argument? |
| [Enter TOUCHSTONE.] |
| ROSALIND: |
| Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature, when |
| fortune makes nature's natural the cutter-off of nature's wit. |
| CELIA: |
| Peradventure this is not fortune's work neither, but |
| nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of |
| such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for |
| always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.— |
| How now, wit? whither wander you? |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Mistress, you must come away to your father. |
| CELIA: |
| Were you made the messenger? |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Where learned you that oath, fool? |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were |
| good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: |
| now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the |
| mustard was good: and yet was not the knight forsworn. |
| CELIA: |
| How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? |
| ROSALIND: |
| Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear |
| by your beards that I am a knave. |
| CELIA: |
| By our beards, if we had them, thou art. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that |
| that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, |
| swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he |
| had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or that |
| mustard. |
| CELIA: |
| Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st? |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| One that old Frederick, your father, loves. |
| CELIA: |
| My father's love is enough to honour him enough: speak |
| no more of him: you'll be whipp'd for taxation one of these days. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what |
| wise men do foolishly. |
| CELIA: |
| By my troth, thou sayest true: for since the little wit that |
| fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men |
| have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. |
| ROSALIND: |
| With his mouth full of news. |
| CELIA: |
| Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Then shall we be news-crammed. |
| CELIA: |
| All the better; we shall be the more marketable. |
| [Enter LE BEAU.] |
| Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news? |
| LE BEAU: |
| Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. |
| CELIA: |
| Sport! of what colour? |
| LE BEAU: |
| What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? |
| ROSALIND: |
| As wit and fortune will. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Or as the destinies decrees. |
| CELIA: |
| Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Nay, if I keep not my rank,— |
| ROSALIND: |
| Thou losest thy old smell. |
| LE BEAU: |
| You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good |
| wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. |
| LE BEAU: |
| I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your |
| ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; |
| and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. |
| CELIA: |
| Well,—the beginning, that is dead and buried. |
| LE BEAU: |
| There comes an old man and his three sons,— |
| CELIA: |
| I could match this beginning with an old tale. |
| LE BEAU: |
| Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence, with |
| bills on their necks,— |
| ROSALIND: |
| 'Be it known unto all men by these presents,'— |
| LE BEAU: |
| The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's |
| wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of |
| his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served |
| the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, |
| their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the |
| beholders take his part with weeping. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Alas! |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? |
| LE BEAU: |
| Why, this that I speak of. |
| TOUCHSTONE: |
| Thus men may grow wiser every day! It is the first time |
| that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. |
| CELIA: |
| Or I, I promise thee. |
| ROSALIND: |
| But is there any else longs to see this broken music |
| in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking?— |
| Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? |
| LE BEAU: |
| You must, if you stay here: for here is the place |
| appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. |
| CELIA: |
| Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. |
| [Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, andAttendants.] |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on |
| his forwardness. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Is yonder the man? |
| LE BEAU: |
| Even he, madam. |
| CELIA: |
| Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| How now, daughter and cousin? are you crept hither to see the |
| wrestling? |
| ROSALIND: |
| Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, |
| there is such odds in the men. In pity of the challenger's youth |
| I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. |
| Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. |
| CELIA: |
| Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| Do so; I'll not be by. |
| [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart.] |
| LE BEAU: |
| Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. |
| ORLANDO: |
| I attend them with all respect and duty. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? |
| ORLANDO: |
| No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come |
| but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. |
| CELIA: |
| Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. |
| You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw |
| yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, |
| the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal |
| enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your |
| own safety and give over this attempt. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be |
| misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke that the |
| wrestling might not go forward. |
| ORLANDO: |
| I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts: wherein I |
| confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies |
| anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go |
| with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled there is but one |
| shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is |
| willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none |
| to lament me: the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only |
| in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied |
| when I have made it empty. |
| ROSALIND: |
| The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. |
| CELIA: |
| And mine to eke out hers. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you! |
| CELIA: |
| Your heart's desires be with you. |
| CHARLES: |
| Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous |
| to lie with his mother earth? |
| ORLANDO: |
| Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| You shall try but one fall. |
| CHARLES: |
| No; I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to |
| a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. |
| ORLANDO: |
| You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before; |
| but come your ways. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! |
| CELIA: |
| I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. |
| [CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle.] |
| ROSALIND: |
| O excellent young man! |
| CELIA: |
| If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. |
| [CHARLES is thrown. Shout.] |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| No more, no more. |
| ORLANDO: |
| Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| How dost thou, Charles? |
| LE BEAU: |
| He cannot speak, my lord. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| Bear him away. |
| [CHARLES is borne out.] |
| What is thy name, young man? |
| ORLANDO: |
| Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois. |
| DUKE FREDERICK: |
| I would thou hadst been son to some man else. |
| The world esteem'd thy father honourable, |
| But I did find him still mine enemy: |
| Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed |
| Hadst thou descended from another house. |
| But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; |
| I would thou hadst told me of another father. |
| [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, Train, and LE BEAU.] |
| CELIA: |
| Were I my father, coz, would I do this? |
| ORLANDO: |
| I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, |
| His youngest son;—and would not change that calling |
| To be adopted heir to Frederick. |
| ROSALIND: |
| My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, |
| And all the world was of my father's mind: |
| Had I before known this young man his son, |
| I should have given him tears unto entreaties |
| Ere he should thus have ventur'd. |
| CELIA: |
| Gentle cousin, |
| Let us go thank him, and encourage him: |
| My father's rough and envious disposition |
| Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserv'd: |
| If you do keep your promises in love |
| But justly, as you have exceeded promise, |
| Your mistress shall be happy. |
| ROSALIND: |
| Gentleman, |
| [Giving him a chain from her neck.] |
| Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune, |
| That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.— |
| Shall we go, coz? |
| CELIA: |
| Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. |
| ORLANDO: |
| Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts |
| Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up |
| Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. |
| ROSALIND: |
| He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes: |
| I'll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?— |
| Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown |
| More than your enemies. |
| CELIA: |
| Will you go, coz? |
| ROSALIND: |
| Have with you.—Fare you well. |
| [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.] |
| ORLANDO: |
| What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? |
| I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. |
| O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown: |
| Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. |
| [Re-enter LE BEAU.] |
| LE BEAU: |
| Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you |
| To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd |
| High commendation, true applause, and love, |
| Yet such is now the duke's condition, |
| That he misconstrues all that you have done. |
| The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed, |
| More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. |
| ORLANDO: |
| I thank you, sir: and pray you tell me this; |
| Which of the two was daughter of the duke |
| That here was at the wrestling? |
| LE BEAU: |
| Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; |
| But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter: |
| The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, |
| And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, |
| To keep his daughter company; whose loves |
| Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. |
| But I can tell you that of late this duke |
| Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, |
| Grounded upon no other argument |
| But that the people praise her for her virtues |
| And pity her for her good father's sake; |
| And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady |
| Will suddenly break forth.—Sir, fare you well! |
| Hereafter, in a better world than this, |
| I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. |
| ORLANDO: |
| I rest much bounden to you: fare you well! |
| [Exit LE BEAU.] |
| Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; |
| From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother:— |
| But heavenly Rosalind! |
| [Exit.] |
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