vour body more seeming,' Audrey:-as thus, sir. did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: This is called the retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: This is called the quip modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is called the reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This is called the reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: This is called the countercheck quarrelsome: and so to the lie circumstantial, and the lie direct. Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well cut? Touch. I durst go no further than the lie circum-| stantial, nor he durst not give me the lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted. Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? Wedding is great Juno's crown; O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Humen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town! Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me, Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous; the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the fifth, Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. two; Enter Jaques de Bois. To Silvius. with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an if. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an if, as, if you said so, then I said so; and I am the second son of old sir Rowland, they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your if, is the only peace-maker; much virtue in if. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind in woman's clothes; and Celia. Still music. Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, Good duke, receive thy daughter, That thou might'st join her hand with his, Ros. To you I give myself, for I am vours. [To Duke S. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Orl. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love, adieu! Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he :[To Duke S. I'll have no husband, if you be not he:[To Orlando. Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [To Phebe. Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion : Of these most strange events: If truth holds true contents.2 (1) Seemly. (2) Unless truth fails of veracity. That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:- Duke S. Welcome, young man ; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself as large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun, and well begot; And after, every of this happy number, That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, And fall into our rustic revelry : Play, music;-and you brides and bridegrooms all, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaq. To him will 1: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.— You to your former honour I bequeath; [To Duke S. Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :You [To Orlando,] to a love, that your true faith doth merit: (3) Bind. You [To Oliver.] to your land, and love, and great not become me; my way is, to conjure you; and bed: this play as please them: and so I charge you, O And you [To Touchstone.] to wrangling; for thy men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive loving voyage by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that Is but for two months victuall'd:-So to your plea-between you and the women, the play may please. EPILOGUE. [A dance. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away Ros. It is not the fashion to see tne lady the epi- their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven, for logue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the heroism of her friendship. The character of the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine Jaques is natural and well preserved. The comic needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good buffoonery than in some other plays; and the graver bushes; and good plays prove the better by the part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, the end of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insi- dialogue between the usurper and the hermit, and nuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson, in not furnished' like a beggar, therefore to beg will which he might have found matter worthy of his highest powers. (1) Dressed. (2) That I liked. JOHNSON. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. PERSONS REPRESENTED. King of France. Duke of Florence. Bertram, Count of Rousillon. Lafeu, an old Lord. Parolles, a follower of Bertram. Countess of Rousillon, mother to Bertram. Diana, daughter to the widow. Violenta, Several young French Lords, that serve with Ber- Mariana, neighbours and friends to the widow. Steward,} Clown, tram in the Florentine war. servants to the Countess of Rousillon. Lords, attending on the King; Officers, Soldiers &c. French and Florentine. Scene, partly in France, and partly in Tuscany. ACT I. SCENE I-Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace. Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, in mourning. Countess. Ber. I heard not of it before. Laf. I would, it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where IN delivering my son from me, I bury a second an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there husband. commendations go with pity, they are virtues and Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o'er my traitors too; in her they are the better for their father's death anew: but I must attend his majes- simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves ty's command, to whom I am now in ward, ever- her goodness. more in subjection. Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, ma- her tears. dam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue her praise in. The remembrance of her father to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such sorrows takes all livelihoods from her cheek. No abundance. more of this, Helena, go to, no more; lets it be Count. What hope is there of his majesty's rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it amendment? Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; too. under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. process but only the losing of hope by time. Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the Count. This young gentlewoman had a father (0, that had 2 how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think, it would be the death of the king's disease. Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam? Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. In manners, as in shape! thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and mourn- That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck ingly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if down, 6 knowledge could be set up against mortality. Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord, (1) Under his particular care, as my guardian. (2) The countess recollects her own loss of a husband, and observes how heavily had passes through her mind. (5) Qualities of good breeding and erudition. Advise him. Laf. He cannot want the best (4) i. e. Her excellencies are the better because they are artless. (5) All appearance of life. (6) i. e. That may help thee with more and bet ter qualifications. |