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Ros.

      I’ll have no father, if you be not he;

      I’ll have no husband, if you be not he;

      Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she.

       Hym.

      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 honored.

      Honor, high honor, and renown

      To Hymen, god of every town!

       Duke S.

      O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me,

      Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree.

       Phe.

      I will not eat my word, now thou art mine,

      Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

       Enter Second Brother [Jaques De Boys].

       Jaq. De B.

      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 restor’d to [them] again

      That were with him exil’d. This to be true,

      I do engage my life.

       Duke S.

      Welcome, young man;

      Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ 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.

      Mean time, 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 th’ measures fall.

       Jaq.

      Sir, by your patience.—If I heard you rightly,

      The Duke hath put on a religious life,

      And thrown into neglect the pompous court?

       Jaq. De B.

      He hath.

       Jaq.

      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 honor 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 S.

      Stay, Jaques, stay.

       Jaq.

      To see no pastime I. What you would have

      I’ll stay to know at your abandon’d cave.

       Exit.

       Duke S.

      Proceed, proceed. We’ll begin these rites,

      As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights.

       [A dance.] Exeunt [all but Rosalind].

       ¶

       William Hamilton, p. — John Peter Simon, e.

[EPILOGUE]

      Ros. 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 furnish’d like a beggar, therefore to

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