A most outrageous fit of madness took him; That desperately he hurried through the street (With him his bondman, all as mad as he,) Unquiet meals make ill digestions, Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy Doing displeasure to the citizens brawls: Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, Why hear you these rebukes, and answer not? By rushing in their houses, bearing thence And, with his mad attendant and himself, Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. band forth. Abb. Neither; he took this place for sanc- And it shall privilege him from your hands, Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, prayers, To make of him a formal man again : * Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. And ill it doth beseem your holiness, Abb. Be quiet, and depart, thou shalt not yourself! My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doc tor, Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire; And ever as it blazed they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair : Luc. Complain unco the duke of this indig-My master preaches patience to bim, while nity. His man with scissars nicks him like a fool : Adr. Come, go; I will fall prostrate at his And, sure, unless you send some present help, feet, And never rise until my tears and prayers Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five: Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant, Against the laws and statutes of this town, Ang. See, where they come; we will bebold Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the Enter DUKE attended; ÆGEON bare-headed; Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady; Whom I made lord of me aud all I bad, Le.To bring him back to bis senses. Part. 1 Sad. Between them they will kill the conjurer. And that is false thou dost report to us. Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; I have not breath'd almost, since I did see it. He cries for you, and vows if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you: [Cry within. Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, be gone. Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing: Guard with balberts. Adr. Ab! me, it is my husband! Witness you, That he is borne about invisible; Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; son. Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Ephesus. grant me justice! Even for the service that long since I did thee, dote, I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio. She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife; That bath abused and dishonour'd me, That she this day bath shameless thrown on me. Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me, While she with harlots feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst thou so? Adr. No, my good lord ;-myself, he, and my sister, To-day did dine together: So befal my soul, Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, But she tells to your highness simple truth! sworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them. Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say; Could witness it, for he was with me then; There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down, That I this day of him receiv'd the chain. Ant. E. I never came within these subcy walls. Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: [ I uever saw the chain, so help me heaven 1 And this is false, you burden me withai, Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach this! I think you all have drank of Circe's cup. Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd Ant. E. 'Tis true, my leige, this ring 4 had of her. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ? Haply I see a friend will save my life, And pay the sum that may deliver me. Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thes wilt. Ege. Is not your name, Sir, call'd Antipho lus ? And is not that your bondman Dromio! Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, Sir, Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords: A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller ; Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, For these deep shames and great indignities. That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him, Harlot was a term of reproach applied to cheats among men as well as to wantons among women. Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. Ege. I am sure you both of you remember saw me last: And careful hours, with Time's deformed band, Have written strange defeatures in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice! Ant. E. Neither. Ege. Dromio, nor thon? Dro. E. No, trust me, Sir, not I. Dro. E. Ay, Sir; but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. Ege. Not know my voice; O time's extremity! Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my pour tongue, In seven short years, that here my only sen Ant. E. I never say my father in my life. Age. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know'st, we parted: but perhaps, my son, + Alteration of features. Can witness with me that it is not so; Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. (All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; And so of these: Which is the natural man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? Dro. S. 1, Sir, am Dromio; command bim bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty :- Ege. If I dream not, thou art Æmilla; Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum: What then became of them, I cannot tell ; I, to this fortune that you see me in. Duke. Why here begins his morning story right; • These two Antipholuses, these two so like, Aut. S. No, Sir, not I; I came from Syracuse. Duke. Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which. Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. Dro. E. And I with him. Ant. E. Brought to this town with that most famous warrior Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle, Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day ? Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. Adr. And are you not my husband? Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so; Ang. That is the chain, Sir, which you had of me. Ant. S. I think it be, Sir, I deny it not. ed me. Ang. I think I did, Sir; I deny it not. Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer, Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the To go with us into the abbey here, all our for And all that are assembled in this place, The duke, my husband, and my children both, Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. [Exeunt DUKE, ABBESS, ÆGEON, COURTEZAN, MERCHANT, ANGELO, and Attendants. Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd? Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, Sir, in the Centaur. Ant. S. He speaks to me; I am your master Dromio: Come, go with us: we'll look to that anon: [Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS S. and E. ADR. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house, That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner; She now shall be my sister, not my wife. Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not my brother : I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth. it ? Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior : till then, lead thou first. [ther; Dro. E. Nay, then thus: We came into the world, like brother and bro fore another. The morning story is what Egeon tells the Duke in And now let's go hand in hand, not one be the first scene of this play, MALONE ascertains the date of this play by the following singular coincidence of an allusion made by Rosalind with a circumstance recorded by Stowe. "I will weep for nothing, (says Rosalind) like Diana in the Foustrin.” In 1598, at the east side of the cross in Cheapside, was set up (says the latter in his survey of Loaden.) “. curious wrought tabernacle of grey marble, and, in the same, an alabaster image of Diana, and water, come veyed from the Thames, prilling from her uaked breast." A trißing novel or pastoral romance, by Dr. Thomas Lodge, called Euphues's Golden Legacy, is the foundation of As you Like it. In addition to the fable, which is pretty exactly followed, the outlines of certain principal personages may be traced in the novel; but the characters of Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey, originated entirely with the poet. Few plays costals sa much instructive sentiment, poignant satire, luxuriant fancy, aud amusing incident, as this ; it is altogethe "wild and pleasing." The philosophic reader will be no less diverted by the seutentions shrewdness of Touchstone, than instructed by the elegant and amiable lessons of the moralizing Jaques.---Shakspeare is atid to have played the part of Adam in As you like it, The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in the Forest of Arden. ACT I. SCENE I.-An Orchard, near OLIVER'S seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. That is it, Adain, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Enter OLIVER. Adam. Yonder comes iny master, your brother. Oli, Now, Sir! what make you here ? • Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns: and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt bear me rustically at home, or, to speak more pro-how he will shake me up. perly, stays me here at home unkept: For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired but 1, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as 1. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, Sir? Orl. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of your's, with idleness. Oti. Marry, Sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. • What do you here. Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them: What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you where you are, Sir ? her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me: The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acmuch of my father in me, as you; albeit, I con- quaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, sefess, your coming before me is nearer to his re-cretly to understand, that your younger brother verence. Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father | begot villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this band from thy throat, till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself. Adam. Sweet masters be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. me. Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, Sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM. Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis ! Enter DENNIS. Den. Calls your worship? Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you. Oli. Call him in. [Erit DENNIS.-Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHARLES. Cra. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; aud, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thoa shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charies,-it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best look to't! for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will prac tise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he bath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other for, I assure thee, and almost with tears, I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you:If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: And so, God keep your worship! [Exit. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.--Now will I stir this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never schooled, and yet learued; full of noble device: of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing re Oli. Good monsieur Charles !-what's the new mains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which news at the new court ? Cha. There's no news at the court, Sir, 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, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives then good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father. Cha. Oh! no; for the duke's daughter, her consin, so loves her,-being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind now I'll go about. [Exit. SCENE II-A Lawn before the DUKE'S Palace. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Rus. 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. Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, Ardenne, a large forest in French Flanders. † Frolicksome fellow. 1 Of all ranke. |