| ACT II  SCENE IV  | The Forest of Arden. |   | 
| [
                    Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena,
                    and TOUCHSTONE
                ] | 
| ROSALIND | O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! | 
| TOUCHSTONE | I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. | 
| ROSALIND | I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's | 
 | apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort | 
 | the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show | 
 | itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, | 
 | good Aliena! | 8 | 
| CELIA | I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. | 
| TOUCHSTONE | For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear | 
 | you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, | 
 | for I think you have no money in your purse. | 
| ROSALIND | Well, this is the forest of Arden. | 
| TOUCHSTONE | Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was | 
 | at home, I was in a better place: but travellers | 
 | must be content. | 16 | 
| ROSALIND | Ay, be so, good Touchstone. | 
[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS] | 
 | Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in | 
 | solemn talk. | 
| CORIN | That is the way to make her scorn you still. | 
| SILVIUS | O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! | 
| CORIN | I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. | 
| SILVIUS | No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, | 
 | Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover | 
 | As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: | 25 | 
 | But if thy love were ever like to mine-- | 
 | As sure I think did never man love so-- | 
 | How many actions most ridiculous | 
 | Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
  
  | 
| CORIN | Into a thousand that I have forgotten. | 
| SILVIUS | O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! | 
 | If thou remember'st not the slightest folly | 
 | That ever love did make thee run into, | 
 | Thou hast not loved: | 
 | Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, | 35 | 
 | Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, | 
 | Thou hast not loved: | 
 | Or if thou hast not broke from company | 
 | Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, | 
 | Thou hast not loved. | 
 | O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! | 
| [Exit] | 
| ROSALIND | Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, | 
 | I have by hard adventure found mine own. | 43 | 
| TOUCHSTONE | And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke | 
 | my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for | 
 | coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the | 
 | kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her | 
 | pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the | 
 | wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took | 
 | two cods and, giving her them again, said with | 
 | weeping tears 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are | 
 | true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is | 
 | mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. | 
| ROSALIND | Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. | 
| TOUCHSTONE | Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I | 
 | break my shins against it. | 56 | 
| ROSALIND | Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion | 
 | Is much upon my fashion. | 
| TOUCHSTONE | And mine; but it grows something stale with me. | 
| CELIA | I pray you, one of you question yond man | 
 | If he for gold will give us any food: | 
 | I faint almost to death. | 
| TOUCHSTONE | Holla, you clown! | 
| ROSALIND | Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. | 
| CORIN | Who calls? | 
| TOUCHSTONE | Your betters, sir. | 
| CORIN | Else are they very wretched. | 
| ROSALIND | Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. | 
| CORIN | And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. | 
| ROSALIND | I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold | 
 | Can in this desert place buy entertainment, | 
 | Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: | 
 | Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd | 70 | 
 | And faints for succor. | 
| CORIN | Fair sir, I pity her | 
 | And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, | 
 | My fortunes were more able to relieve her; | 
 | But I am shepherd to another man | 
 | And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: | 
 | My master is of churlish disposition | 
 | And little recks to find the way to heaven | 
 | By doing deeds of hospitality: | 
 | Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed | 
 | Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, | 80 | 
 | By reason of his absence, there is nothing | 
 | That you will feed on; but what is, come see. | 
 | And in my voice most welcome shall you be. | 
| ROSALIND | What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? | 
| CORIN | That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, | 
 | That little cares for buying any thing. | 
| ROSALIND | I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, | 
 | Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock, | 
 | And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. | 
| CELIA | And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. | 
 | And willingly could waste my time in it. | 91 | 
| CORIN | Assuredly the thing is to be sold: | 
 | Go with me: if you like upon report | 
 | The soil, the profit and this kind of life, | 
 | I will your very faithful feeder be | 
 | And buy it with your gold right suddenly. | 
| [Exeunt] |