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in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?
Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, 3 as to resolve the propositions of a lover:--but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with a good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn.
Ros. It may well be callid Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. 4
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded knight.
Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.5
Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, 6 I pr’ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart.7
to count atomies,] Atomies are those minute particles discernible in a stream of sunshine that breaks into a darkened room. Henley.
“ An atomie, (says Bullokar, in his English Expositor, 1616) is a mote flying in the sunne. Any thing so small that it cannot be made lesse." Malone.
- when it drops forth such fruit.] The old copy reads-when it drops forth fruit. The word such was supplied by the editor of the second folio. I once suspected the phrase, “when it drops forth," to be corrupt; but it is certainly our author's; for it occurs again in this play:
woman's gentle brain “ Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention." This passage serves likewise to support the emendation that has been made. Malone.
such a sight, it well becomes the ground.] So, in Humlet:
Such a sight as this “ Becomes the field,” Steevens. 6 Cry, holla! to thy tongue,] The old copy has the tongue. Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Holla was a term of the menage, by which the rider restrained and stopp'd his horse. So, in our author's Venus and Adonis :
“ What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
“ His flattering holla, or his stand I say?" The word is again used in Othello, in the same sense as here:
“ Holla! stand there." Malone. Again, in Cotton's Wonders of the Peak:
“But I must give my muse the hola here.” Reed.
Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringést me out of tune.
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him.
(CEL, and Ros. retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.
Jaq. God be with you ; let's meet as little as we can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing lovesongs in their barks.
Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.
Jaq. What stature is she of?
Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?
Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, 8 from whence you have studied your questions.
7 — to kill my heart.] A quibble between heart and hart.
Steevens. Our author has the same expression in many other places. So, in Love's Labour's Lost :
“Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart.” Again, in his Venus and Adonis :
they have murder'd this poor heart of mine.” But the preceding word, hunter, shows that a quibble was here intended between heart and hart. In our author's time the latter word was often written instead of heart, as it is in the present instance, in the old copy of this play. Malone.
- but I answer you right painted cloth,] This alludes to the fashion in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral sentences
Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we
from the mouths of the figures worked or painted in them. The poet again hints at this custom, in his poem, called Tarquin and Lucrece:
“ Who fears a sentence, or an old man's saw,
“Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.” Theobald. So, in Barnaby Riche’s Soldier's Wishe to Britons Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill, &c. 1604, p. 1: “ It is enough for him that can but robbe a painted cloth of a historie, a booke of a discourse, a foole of a fashion, &c.
The same allusion is common to many of our old plays. So, in The Two Angry Women of Abington, 1599: “Now will I see if my memory will serve for some proverbs. 0, a painted cloth were as well worth a shilling, as a thief is worth a halter." Again, in A Match at Midnight, 1633: “There's a witty posy for you.
No, no; I 'll have one shall savour of a saw.
Why then 'twill smell of the painted cloth.” Again, in The Muses' Looking Glass, by Randolph, 1638:
I have seen in Mother Redcap's hall “In painted cloth, the story of the prodigal." From this last quotation we may suppose that the rooms in publick houses were usually hung with what Falstaff calls water-work. On these hangings, perhaps, moral sentences were depicted as issuing from the mouths of the different characters represented.
Again, in Sir Thomas More's English Works, printed by Rastell, 1557: “Mayster Thomas More in hys youth devysed in hys father's house in London, a goodly hangyng of fyne paynted clothe, with nine pageauntes, and verses over every of those pageauntes ; which verses expressed and declared what the ymages in those pageauntes represented: and also in those pageauntes were paynted the thyngs that the verses over them dyd (in'effecte) declare.” Of the present phraseology there is an instance in King Fohn: “He speaks plain cannon-fire, and bounce, and smoke.”
Steevens. I answer you right painted cloth, may mean, I give you a true painted cloth answer; as we say, she talks right Billingsgate: that is, exactly such language as is used at Billingsgate.
Fohnson. This singular phrase may be justified by another of the same kind in King Henry V:
“I speak to thee plain soldier.” Again, in Twelfth Night:
“He speaks nothing but madman.” There is no need of Sir T. Hanmer's alteration : “ I answer you right in the style of painted cloth.” We had before in th:
two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.
Orl. I will chide no breather in the world,' but myself; against whom I know most faults.
Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love.
Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I
Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.
Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.
Jag. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewel, good signior love.
Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy.
[Exit JAQ.-CEL. and Ros. come forward.
play, “ It is the right butter-woman's rate to market.” So, in Golding's translation of Ovid, 1567:
the look of it was right a maiden's look." I suppose Orlando means to say, that Jaques's questions have no more of novelty or shrewdness in them than the trite maxims of the painted cloth. The following lines which are found in a book with this fantastick title,-No whipping nor tripping, but a kind of friendly snipping, octavo, 1601, may serve as a specimen of painted cloth language:
“ Read what is written on the painted cloth:
“ And turn the colt to pasture with the mare;" &c. That moral sentences were wrought in these painted cloths, is ascertained by the following passage in A Dialogue both pleasaunt and pitifull, &c. by Dr. Willyam Bulleyne, 1564, (sign. H 5.) which has been already quoted: “This is a comelie parlour,and faire clothes, with pleasaunte borders aboute the same, with many wise sayings painted upon them.” Malone. - no breather in the world,] So, in our author's 81st Son
“When all the breathers of this world are dead.” Again, in Antony and Cleopatra:
“She shows a body, rather than a life;
A statue, than a breather.” Malone.
Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him.-Do you hear, forester?
Orl. Very well; What would you?
Orl. You should ask me, what time o’day; there 's no clock in the forest.
Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock.
Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had not that been as proper?
Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with divers persons: I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
Orl. I pr’ythee, who doth he trot withal?
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage,' and the day it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years.
Orl, Who ambles time withal ?
Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury: These time ambles withal.
Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Ori. Who stays it still withal?
Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves.
Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
1 Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract &c.] And yet, in Much Ado about Nothing, our author tells us, “ Time goes on crutches, till love hath all his rites.” In both passages, however, the interim is equally represented as tedious. Malone.