Act 2

Scene IV

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 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 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.
	Enter Corin* and Silvius.*
	Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.
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 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: 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 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, 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. 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 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 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.
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 prithee, 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 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; 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 any thing.
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.