Comedy plays; Exiles -- Drama; Fathers and daughters -- Drama; Pastoral drama
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee
come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee
goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and
so God keepe your worship.
Enter.
Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester:
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet
I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's
gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble
deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed
so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my
owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall
cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.
Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.
Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry
Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse
of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you
could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure
Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full
waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father
had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou
hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue
to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth
of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine
is to thee
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours
Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor
none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt
be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father
perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose,
be merry
Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports:
let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue?
Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but
loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther,
then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor
come off againe
Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally
Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman
doth most mistake in her gifts to women
Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce
makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes
very illfauouredly
Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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