When rather from our acts we them derive Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb ACT III. Self-accusation of too great Love. Poor lord! is 't I That chase thee from thy country, and expose Of the non-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger: better 't were That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Roussillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all; I will be gone: My being here it is that holds thee hence: * Voracious. The air of paradise did fan the house, To consolate thine ear. ACT IV. Life Chequered. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues. A Cowardly Braggart. Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, Who knows himself a braggart, ACT V. Praise of a Lost Object. Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear. Against Delay. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals ere we can effect them. I At first Excuse for Unreasonable Dislike. stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart To a most hideous object: thence it came, ·000— AS YOU LIKE IT. The play commences with a quarrel between the brothers Oliver and Orlando, sons of the deceased Sir Rowland de Bois, after which Orlando engages in a bout of wrestling with Charles, a noted wrestler, whom he overthrows. Rosalind and Celia, who are cousins, and inseparable friends, witness the combat, and the former falls in love with Orlando. The reigning Duke Frederick, father of Celia, has usurped the government and banished his brother, the rightful duke and father of Rosalind, from his dominions. The exiled duke retires with Jaques, a cynical lord, and other courtiers, to the forest of Arden, where he is followed by Rosalind and Celia, who are accompanied by Touchstone, a clownish servitor. Orlando, attended by Adam, an old and faithful servant, encounters in the forest the banished Duke and his friends; here also he meets with Rosalind, and several love scenes occur between them. In the end, the chief characters being assembled together, Hymen enters and joins the hands of Rosalind and Orlando, and Celia and Oliver. At this juncture Jaques de Bois, another son of Sir Rowland, arrives, and brings intelligence that the usurping Duke Frederick has resolved to bequeath his crown to his brother and retire into solitude, and the comedy thus concludes. Much amusement is created by the clown Touchstone, who marries Audrey, a country girl whom he has met in the forest. Dr. Johnson says of this comedy: "The fable is wild and pleasing; the character of Jaques is natural and well preserved; the comic dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays, and the graver part is elegant and harmonious." Аст І. Modesty and Courage in Youth. I BESEECH you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Play-fellows. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together: Still we went coupled, and inseparable. ACT II. Solitude preferred to a Court Life, and the Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; Reflections on a wounded Stag. DUKE. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should, in their own confines, with forked heads* Have their round haunches gored. LORD. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, *The heads of arrows barbed. |