Touchstone, desiring a goat-keeper named Audrey, has arranged for a country priest to marry them in the woods. Jaques persuades Touchstone to wait until he can have a real wedding in a church.
Enter ⌜Touchstone and⌝ Audrey, ⌜followed by⌝ Jaques.
TOUCHSTONE1632
Come apace, good Audrey. I will fetch up 1633your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? Am I the 1634man yet? Doth my simple feature content you?
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AUDREY1635
Your features, Lord warrant us! What 16365features? TOUCHSTONE1637
I am here with thee and thy goats, as the 1638most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the 1639Goths. JAQUES, ⌜aside⌝1640
O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than 164110Jove in a thatched house. TOUCHSTONE1642
When a man’s verses cannot be understood, 1643nor a man’s good wit seconded with the 1644forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more 1645dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I 164615would the gods had made thee poetical. AUDREY1647
I do not know what “poetical” is. Is it honest 1648in deed and word? Is it a true thing? TOUCHSTONE1649
No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most 1650feigning, and lovers are given to poetry, and what 165120they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do 1652feign. AUDREY1653
Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me 1654poetical? TOUCHSTONE1655
I do, truly, for thou swear’st to me thou 165625art honest. Now if thou wert a poet, I might have 1657some hope thou didst feign. AUDREY1658
Would you not have me honest? TOUCHSTONE1659
No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favored; 1660for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a 166130sauce to sugar. JAQUES, ⌜aside⌝1662
A material fool. AUDREY1663
Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the 1664gods make me honest. TOUCHSTONE1665
Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a 166635foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean 1667dish. AUDREY1668
I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am 1669foul. TOUCHSTONE1670
Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness;
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167140sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may 1672be, I will marry thee; and to that end I have been 1673with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, 1674who hath promised to meet me in this place of the 1675forest and to couple us. JAQUES, ⌜aside⌝167645I would fain see this meeting. AUDREY1677
Well, the gods give us joy. TOUCHSTONE1678
Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful 1679heart, stagger in this attempt, for here we have no 1680temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. 168150But what though? Courage. As horns are odious, 1682they are necessary. It is said “Many a man knows no 1683end of his goods.” Right: many a man has good 1684horns and knows no end of them. Well, that is the 1685dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. 168655Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no. The 1687noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the 1688single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town 1689is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of 1690a married man more honorable than the bare brow 169160of a bachelor. And by how much defense is better 1692than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious 1693than to want.
Enter Sir Oliver Martext.
1694Here comes Sir Oliver.—Sir Oliver Martext, you are 1695well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree, 169665or shall we go with you to your chapel? OLIVER MARTEXT1697
Is there none here to give the 1698woman? TOUCHSTONE1699
I will not take her on gift of any man. OLIVER MARTEXT1700
Truly, she must be given, or the 170170marriage is not lawful. JAQUES, ⌜coming forward⌝1702
Proceed, proceed. I’ll give 1703her.
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TOUCHSTONE1704
Good even, good Monsieur What-you-call-’t. 1705How do you, sir? You are very well met. God 170675’ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see 1707you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay, pray be 1708covered. JAQUES1709
Will you be married, motley? TOUCHSTONE1710
As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his 171180curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his 1712desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 1713nibbling. JAQUES1714
And will you, being a man of your breeding, be 1715married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to 171685church, and have a good priest that can tell you 1717what marriage is. This fellow will but join you 1718together as they join wainscot. Then one of you will 1719prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, 1720warp. TOUCHSTONE172190I am not in the mind but I were better to 1722be married of him than of another, for he is not like 1723to marry me well, and not being well married, it 1724will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my 1725wife. JAQUES172695Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. ⌜TOUCHSTONE⌝1727
Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, 1728or we must live in bawdry.—Farewell, good 1729Master Oliver, not 1730O sweet Oliver, 1731100O brave Oliver, 1732Leave me not behind thee, 1733But 1734Wind away, 1735Begone, I say, 1736105I will not to wedding with thee. ⌜Audrey, Touchstone, and Jaques exit.⌝ OLIVER MARTEXT1737
’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical 1738knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. ⌜He exits.⌝