CELIA.
It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
OLIVER.
Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin:--are you he?
ROSALIND.
I am: what must we understand by this?
OLIVER.
Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where,
This handkerchief was stain'd.
CELIA.
I pray you, tell it.
OLIVER.
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside,
And, mark, what object did present itself!
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who, with her head nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
CELIA.
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd amongst men.
OLIVER.
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
ROSALIND.
But, to Orlando:--did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
OLIVER.
Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so;
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.
CELIA.
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND.
Was it you he rescued?
CELIA.
Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER.
'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
ROSALIND.
But, for the bloody napkin?--
OLIVER.
By and by.
When from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,
As, how I came into that desert place;--
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love,
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound,
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd-youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
[ROSALIND faints.]
CELIA.
Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
OLIVER.
Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
CELIA.
There is more in it:--Cousin--Ganymede!
OLIVER.
Look, he recovers.
ROSALIND.
I would I were at home.
CELIA.
We'll lead you thither:--
I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
OLIVER.
Be of good cheer, youth:--you a man?--You lack a man's heart.
ROSALIND.
I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think
this was well counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how
well I counterfeited.--Heigh-ho!--
OLIVER.
This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony
in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.
ROSALIND.
Counterfeit, I assure you.
OLIVER.
Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.
ROSALIND.
So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right.
CELIA.
Come, you look paler and paler: pray you draw homewards.--
Good sir, go with us.
OLIVER.
That will I, for I must bear answer back
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend my
counterfeiting to him.--Will you go?
[Exeunt.]
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Forest of Arden.
[Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.]
TOUCHSTONE.
We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.
AUDREY.
Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's
saying.
TOUCHSTONE.
A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext.
But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to
you.
AUDREY.
Ay, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in me in the
world: here comes the man you mean.
[Enter WILLIAM.]
TOUCHSTONE.
It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: By my troth,
we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be
flouting; we cannot hold.
WILLIAM.
Good even, Audrey.
AUDREY.
God ye good even, William.
WILLIAM.
And good even to you, sir.
TOUCHSTONE.
Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy
head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?
WILLIAM.
Five and twenty, sir.
TOUCHSTONE.
A ripe age. Is thy name William?
WILLIAM.
William, sir.
TOUCHSTONE.
A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here?
WILLIAM.
Ay, sir, I thank God.
TOUCHSTONE.
"Thank God;"--a good answer. Art rich?
WILLIAM.
Faith, sir, so-so.
TOUCHSTONE.
"So-so" is good, very good, very excellent good:--and
yet it is not; it is but so-so. Art thou wise?
WILLIAM.
Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
TOUCHSTONE.
Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; 'The
fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to
be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat
a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth;
meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open.
You do love this maid?
WILLIAM.
I do, sir.
TOUCHSTONE.
Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
WILLIAM.
No, sir.
TOUCHSTONE.
Then learn this of me:--to have is to have; for it is a figure in
rhetoric that drink, being poured out of cup into a glass, by
filling the one doth empty the other; for all your writers do
consent that ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I am he.
WILLIAM.
Which he, sir?
TOUCHSTONE.
He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown,
abandon,--which is in the vulgar, leave,--the society,--which
in the boorish is company,--of this female,--which in the common
is woman,--which together is abandon the society of this female;
or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding,
diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy
life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison
with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee
in faction; will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a
hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart.
AUDREY.
Do, good William.
WILLIAM.
God rest you merry, sir.
[Exit.]
[Enter CORIN.]
CORIN.
Our master and mistress seek you; come away, away!
TOUCHSTONE.
Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey;--I attend, I attend.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Another part of the Forest.
[Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER.]
ORLANDO.
Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should
like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo?
and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy
her?
OLIVER.
Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty
of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden
consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say, with her, that
she loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other: it
shall be to your good; for my father's house, and all the revenue
that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here
live and die a shepherd.
ORLANDO.
You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will
I invite the duke and all's contented followers. Go you and
prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.
[Enter ROSALIND.]
ROSALIND.
God save you, brother.
OLIVER.
And you, fair sister.
[Exit.]
ROSALIND.
O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee
wear thy heart in a scarf!
ORLANDO.
It is my arm.
ROSALIND.
I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.
ORLANDO.
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
ROSALIND.
Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon
when he show'd me your handkercher?
ORLANDO.
Ay, and greater wonders than that.
ROSALIND.
O, I know where you are:--nay, 'tis true: there was never
anything so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's
thrasonical brag of "I came, saw, and overcame:" for your brother
and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked,
but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner
sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the
reason, but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have
they made pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb
incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in
the very wrath of love, and they will together: clubs cannot part
them.
ORLANDO.
They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the duke
to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into
happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I
to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I
shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.
ROSALIND.
Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?
ORLANDO.
I can live no longer by thinking.
ROSALIND.
I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know
of me then,--for now I speak to some purpose,--that I know you
are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this that you should
bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you
are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some
little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and
not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do
strange things: I have, since I was three year old, conversed
with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable.
If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries
it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her:--
I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not
impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set
her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any
danger.
ORLANDO.
Speak'st thou in sober meanings?
ROSALIND.
By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I
am a magician. Therefore put you in your best array, bid your
friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and
to Rosalind, if you will. Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a
lover of hers.
[Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.]
PHEBE.
Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,
To show the letter that I writ to you.
ROSALIND.
I care not if I have: it is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you:
You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.
PHEBE.
Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
SILVIUS.
It is to be all made of sighs and tears;--
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE.
And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO.
And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
And I for no woman.
SILVIUS.
It is to be all made of faith and service;--
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE.
And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO.
And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
And I for no woman.
SILVIUS.
It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance;--
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE.
And so am I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO.
And so am I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
And so am I for no woman.
PHEBE.
[To ROSALIND.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
SILVIUS.
[To PHEBE.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ORLANDO.
If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ROSALIND.
Why do you speak too,--'Why blame you me to love you?'
ORLANDO.
To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
ROSALIND.
Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves
against the moon.--
[to SILVIUS] I will help you if I can;--
[to PHEBE] I would love you if I could.--
To-morrow meet me all together.--
[to PHEBE] I will marry you if ever I marry woman, and I'll be
married to-morrow:--
[to ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfied man, and you
shall be married to-morrow:--
[to SILVIUS] I will content you if what pleases you contents you,
and you shall be married to-morrow.
[to ORLANDO] As you love Rosalind, meet.
[to SILVIUS] As you love Phebe, meet;--
and as I love no woman, I'll meet.--So, fare you well; I have
left you commands.
SILVIUS.
I'll not fail, if I live.
PHEBE.
Nor I.
ORLANDO.
Nor I.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Another part of the Forest.
[Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.]
TOUCHSTONE.
To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be
married.
AUDREY.
I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no
dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here
come two of the banished duke's pages.
[Enter two Pages.]
FIRST PAGE.
Well met, honest gentleman.
TOUCHSTONE.
By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song.
SECOND PAGE.
We are for you: sit i' the middle.
FIRST PAGE.
Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or
saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad
voice?
SECOND PAGE.
I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies on a
horse.
SONG.
I.
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding:
Sweet lovers love the spring.
II.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, &c.
III.
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower,
In the spring time, &c.
IV.
And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
For love is crowned with the prime,
In the spring time, &c.
TOUCHSTONE.
Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great
matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untimeable.
FIRST PAGE.
You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time.
TOUCHSTONE.
By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such
a foolish song. God be with you; and God mend your voices! Come,
Audrey.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest.
[Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA.]
DUKE SENIOR.
Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?
ORLANDO.
I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not:
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
[Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE.]
ROSALIND.
Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd:--
[To the Duke.]
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You will bestow her on Orlando here?
DUKE SENIOR.
That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
ROSALIND.
[To Orlando.] And you say you will have her when I bring her?
ORLANDO.
That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
ROSALIND.
[To Phebe.] You say you'll marry me, if I be willing?
PHEBE.
That will I, should I die the hour after.
ROSALIND.
But if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?
PHEBE.
So is the bargain.
ROSALIND.
[To Silvius.] You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will?
SILVIUS.
Though to have her and death were both one thing.
ROSALIND.
I have promis'd to make all this matter even.
Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter;--
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter;--
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me;
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd:--
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her
If she refuse me:--and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.
[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.]
DUKE SENIOR.
I do remember in this shepherd-boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.
ORLANDO.
My lord, the first time that I ever saw him
Methought he was a brother to your daughter:
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born,
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.
JAQUES.
There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are
coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts
which in all tongues are called fools.
[Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.]
TOUCHSTONE.
Salutation and greeting to you all!
JAQUES.
Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded
gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath
been a courtier, he swears.
TOUCHSTONE.
If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation.
I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been
politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone
three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought
one.
JAQUES.
And how was that ta'en up?
TOUCHSTONE.
Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.
JAQUES.
How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow.
DUKE SENIOR.
I like him very well.
TOUCHSTONE.
God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in
here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear
and to forswear; according as marriage binds and blood breaks:--A
poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a
poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will;
rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor-house; as your
pearl in your foul oyster.
DUKE SENIOR.
By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.
TOUCHSTONE.
According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.
JAQUES.
But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on
the seventh cause?
TOUCHSTONE.
Upon a lie seven times removed;--bear your body more
seeming, Audrey:--as thus, sir, I 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.
JAQUES.
And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?
TOUCHSTONE.
I durst go no further than the Lie circumstantial, nor
he durst not give me the Lie direct; and so we measured
swords and parted.
JAQUES.
Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?
TOUCHSTONE.
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 churlish; the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the fifth, the
Countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie 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 parties
were met themselves, one of them thought but of an 'If', as: 'If
you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands, and swore
brothers. Your 'If' is the only peace-maker;--much virtue in
'If.'
JAQUES.
Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at anything, and
yet a fool.
DUKE SENIOR.
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.]
HYMEN.
Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together.
Good duke, receive thy daughter;
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither,
That thou mightst join her hand with his,
Whose heart within his bosom is.
ROSALIND.
[To DUKE SENIOR.] To you I give myself, for I am yours.
[To ORLANDO.] To you I give myself, for I am yours.
DUKE SENIOR.
If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
ORLANDO.
If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
PHEBE.
If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love, adieu!
ROSALIND.
[To DUKE SENIOR.] I'll have no father, if you be not he;--
[To ORLANDO.] I'll have no husband, if you be not he;--
[To PHEBE.] Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
HYMEN.
Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen's bands,
If truth holds true contents.
[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND.] You and you no cross shall part:
[To OLIVER and CELIA.] You and you are heart in heart;
[To PHEBE.] You to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:--
[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.] You and you are sure together,
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning,
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
SONG
Wedding is great Juno's crown;
O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;
High wedlock then be honoured;
Honour, high honour, and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town!
DUKE SENIOR.
O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.
PHEBE.
[To SILVIUS.] I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.
[Enter JAQUES DE BOIS.]
JAQUES DE BOIS.
Let me have audience for a word or two;
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:--
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came;
Where, meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise and from the world;
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restored to them again
That were with him exil'd. This to be true
I do engage my life.
DUKE SENIOR.
Welcome, young man:
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brother's wedding:
To one, his lands withheld; and to the other,
A land itself at 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,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.
JAQUES.
Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life,
And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
JAQUES DE BOIS.
He hath.
JAQUES.
To him will I: out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.--
[To DUKE SENIOR] You to your former honour I bequeath;
Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:--
[To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit:--
[To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies:--
[To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed:--
[To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage
Is but for two months victuall'd.--So to your pleasures;
I am for other than for dancing measures.
DUKE SENIOR.
Stay, Jaques, stay.
JAQUES.
To see no pastime I; what you would have
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.
[Exit.]
DUKE SENIOR.
Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,
As we do trust they'll end, in true delights.
[A dance.]
EPILOGUE
ROSALIND.
It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but
it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue.
If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes;
and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues.
What a case am I in, then, that am neither a good epilogue nor
cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not
furnished like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me: my
way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge
you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of
this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love
you bear to women;--as I perceive by your simpering, none of you
hates them,--that between you and the women the play may please.
If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that
pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied
not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces,
or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy,
bid me farewell.
[Exeunt.]
