Act II, Scene iv:
The Forest of Arden.

[Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA dressed like ashepherdess, 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 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 can go no further.

TOUCHSTONE:

For my part, I had rather bear with 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 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?, a

young man and an old in solemn talk.

[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.]

CORIN:

That is the way to make her scorn you still.

SILVIUS:

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

CORIN:

I partly guess; for I have lov'd 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:

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.

SILVIUS:

O, thou didst then never love so heartily:

If thou remember'st not the slightest folly

That ever love did make thee run into,

Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,

Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Thou hast not lov'd: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

[Exit Silvius.]

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 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 chapp'd hands had milk'd: and I

remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took

two cods, and giving her them 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 speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of.

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 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.

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 pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold

Can in this desert place buy entertainment,

Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:

Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,

And faints for succour.

CORIN:

Fair sir, I pity her,

And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,

My fortunes were more able to relieve her:

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:

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.

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 anything.

ROSALIND:

I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,

Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,

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,

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.]