Rosalind. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy
lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. â Do you
hear, forester ?
1 The meaning is, " Have you not had access to goldsmiths' shops through
the favor of their wives, and studied the mottoes in rings ? "
2 " Right painted cloth," i.e., sententiously. The painted cloths often men-
tioned by Shakespeare were hangings of tapestry with which rooms were dec-
orated, and on v.hich various mottoes were wrought.
SCENE II.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 63
Orlando. Very well ; what would you ?
Rosalind. 1 pray you, what is't o'clock ?
Orlando. You should ask me what time o' day ; there's no
clock in the forest.
Rosalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else sigh-
ing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy
foot of Time as well as a clock.
Orlando. And why not the swift foot of Time ? Had not that
been as proper ?
Rosalind. 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
Orlando. I prithee, who doth he trot withal ?
Rosalind. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between
the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd. If the
interim be but a se'nnight,i Time's pace is so hard that it seems
the length of seven year,
Orlando. Who ambles Time withal ?
Rosalind. 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, â the
one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other
knowing no burden of heavy, tedious penury. These Time ambles
Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal ?
Rosalind. With a thief to the gallows ; for though he go as
softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Orlando. Who stays he still withal ?
Rosalind. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep be-
tween term and term, and then they perceive not how Time
Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth ?
1 Seven nights, i.e., a week; as we say "fortnight," i.e., fourteen nights,
for two weeks.
64 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi.
Rosalitid. With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts
of the forest, hke fringe upon a petticoat.
Orlando. Are you native of this place ?
Rosalifid. As the cony that you see dwell where she is kin-
Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you could pur-
chase 2 in so remov'd a dwelling.
Rosalind. I have been told so of many ; but, indeed, an old re-
ligious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth
an inland man; one that knew courtship^ too well, for there he
fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it,
and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many
giddy offenses as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he
laid to the charge of women ?
Rosal'md. There were none principal ; they were all like one
another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till
his fellow-fault came to match it.
Orlando. I prithee, recount some of them.
Rosalind. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those
that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our
young plants with carving " Rosalind " on their barks ; hangs odes
upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying
the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancymonger,* I
would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the
quotidian ^ of love upon him.
Orlando. I am he that is so love-shak'd ; I pray you, tell me
Rosalind. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you. He
taught me how to know a man in love, in which cage of rushes
I am sure you are not prisoner.
Orla?ido. What were his marks ?
1. Brought forth. 2 Acquire.
3 Court manners. Rosalind puns on the word. * One who deals in love.
5 Quotidian fevers are those in which the paroxysms occur daily.
SCENE 11.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 65
Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye,i
and sunken, which you have not ; an unquestionable - spirit,
which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not â
but I pardon you for that, for simply ^ your having-* in beard is a
younger brother's revenue ; then your hose should be ungarter'd,
your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe unti'd,
and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation.
But you are no such man ; you are rather point-device ^ in your
accouterments, as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any
Orlafido. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
Rosalind. Me ^ believe it ! You may as soon make her that
you love believe it, which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to
confess she does ; that is one of the points in the which women
still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are
you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is
so admired ?
Orlando. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosa-
lind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
Rosalind. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak ?
Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
Rosalind. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves
as well a dark house and a whip '^ as madmen do ; and the rea-
son why they are not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is
so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess cur-
ing it by counsel.
Orlando. Did you ever cure any so ?
Rosalind. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine
me his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me ;
at which time would I, being but a moonish ^ youth, grieve, be
1 " Blue eye," i.e., blue beneath the eyelids, not in the iris.
2 Unsociable. 3 Indeed. * Property. ^ Faultless.
6 Object of "make" understood.
'' This barbarous treatment of lunatics prevailed till within the last fifty
years. 8 Changeable.
66 â¢ SHAKESPEARE. [act ni.
effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical,
apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for e\-ery
passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and
women are for the most part cattle of this color ; would now like
him, now loathe him ; then entertain him, then forswear him ; now
weep for him, then spit at him ; that I drave my suitor from his
mad humor of love to a hvmg' humor of madness; which was,
to forswear the full stream of the w^orld and to live in a nook
merely - monastic. And thus I cured him ; and this way vv^ill I
take upon me to wash your liver ^ as clean as a sound sheep's
heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't.
Orlatido. I would not be cured, youth.
Rosalind. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosa-
lind and come every day to my cote and woo me.
Orlando. Now, by the faith of my love, I will ; tell me
where it is.
Rosalind. Go with me to it and I'll show it you ; and by the
way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go ?
Orlando. With all my heart, good youth.
Rosalind. Nay, you must call me Rosahnd. â Come, sister,
will you go ? [Exeunt.
Scene III. T/ie Forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind.
Touchstone. Come apace,'' good Audrey ; I will fetch up your
goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey ? am I the man yet ? Doth
my simple feature ^ content you ?
Audrey. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what features ?
Touchstone. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most
capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.^
1 Real. 2 Entirely.
_ 3 Old physiologists regarded the liver as the seat of the affections,
* Quickly. 5 Personal appearance.
6 A pun is intended on the words " goats" and " Goths," the old pro-
nunciation of Goths being as though it were spelled " Gotes." The pun >
SCENE III.] ^.S- YOU LIKE IT. 67
Jaqiies. [Aside] O knowledge ill inhabited, worse than Jove
in a thatch'd house ! '
Touchstone. When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor
a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understand-
ing, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little
room. 2 Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
Audrey. I do not know what " poetical " is. Is it honest in
deed and word ? Is it a true thing ?
Touchstone. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the most feign-
ing; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in
poetry may be said as lovers they do feign.
Audrey. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me
Touchstofie. I do, truly ; for thou swear'st to me thou art hon-
est ; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst
Audrey. Would you not have me honest ?
Touchstone. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favored ; for
honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
Jaques. [Aside] A material ^ fool !
Audrey. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods
make me honest.
Touchstone. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul ^
slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Audrey. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
Touchstone. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness ! slut-
tishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will
helped out by the word "capricious," which is derived from the Latin
caper (" goat").
1 Jupiter and Mercury, visiting the earth in disguise, came upon the hum-
ble dwelling of Philemon and Baucis, and were so hospitably entertained by
the worthy couple that Jupiter changed their thatched cottage into a superb
temple, of which Baucis and her husband were made priests. (See Guerber's
Myths of Greece and Rome, p. 43. )
2 " Great reckoning," etc., i.e., a large bill for a small accommodation.
3 Full of matter ; sensible. * Homely.
68 SHAKESPEARE. [act in.
marry thee ; and to that end I have been with Sir OHver Mar-
text, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me
in this place of the forest and to couple us.
Jaqiies. \Asidc\ I would fain see this meeting.
Audrey. Well, the gods give us joy !
Touchstone. Amen ! Here comes Sir Oliver. â
Enter SiR Oliver Martext.
Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here
under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ?
Sir Oliver. Is there none here to give the woman ?
Touchstone. I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir Oliver. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not
Jaqiies. [Advanciug] Proceed, proceed ; I'll give her.
Touchstone. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't ; how do
you, sir ? You are very well met. God 'ild i you for your last
company; I am very glad to see you; â even a toy- in hand
here, sir; â nay, pray be cover'd.
Jaques. Will you be married, motley ?
Touchstone. As the ox hath his bow,^ sir, the horse his curb,
and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires ; and as pigeons
bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
Jaques. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be mar-
ried under a bush like a beggar ? Get you to church, and have
a good priest that can tell you what marriage is. This fellow will
but join you together as they join wainscot ; then one of you will
prove a shrunk panel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.
Touchstone. [Aside] 1 am not in the mind but I were better to
be married of him than of another ; for he is not like to marry
me well, and not being well married, it will be a good excuse
for me hereafter to leave my wife.
Jaques. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
1 Yield ; reward. 2 A trifling matter. 3 Yoke.
SCENE IV.] ^S YOU LIKE IT. 69
Touchstone. Come, sweet Audrey. â
Farewell, good Master Oliver; not, â
O sweet Oliver,,
O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee:
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee.
\JExeti7it Jaqjies, Touchstone, and Audrey.
Sir Oliver. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them
all shall flout me out of my calling. [Â£xit.
Scene IV. The Forest.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Rosalind. Never talk to me ; I will weep.
Celia. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider that
tears do not become a man.
Rosalind. But have I not cause to weep ?
Celia. As good cause as one would desire ; therefore weep.
Rosalind. His very hair is of the dissembling color.
Celia. Something browner than Judas's ; ^ marry, his kisses are
Judas's own children.
Rosalind. V faith, his hair is of a good color.
Celia. An excellent color; your chestnut was ever the only
Rosalind. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of
Celia. He hath bought a pair of chaste lips of Diana. 2 A nun
of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously ; the very ice of
chastity is in them.
1 Judas is constantly represented in old paintings and tapestries with red
hair and beard.
2 See Note 5, p. 53.
70 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi.
Rosalind. But why did he swear he would come this morning,
and comes not ?
Celia. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Rosalind. Do you think so ?
Celia. Yes ; I think he is not a pickpurse nor a horse stealer,
but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered
goblet or a worm-eaten nut.
Rosalind. Not true in love ?
Celia. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in.
Rosalind. You have heard him swear downright he was.
Celia. " Was " is not " is ; " besides, the oath of a lover is no
stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both the confirmers
of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the Duke
Rosalind. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question
with him. He ask'd me of what parentage I was ; I told him,
of as good as he ; so he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk
we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ?
Celia. O, that's a brave man ! He writes brave verses, speaks
brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks them bravely, quite
traverse, athwart the heart of his lover ; as a puisny ^ tilter, that
spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff hke a noble
goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. â Who
comes here ?
Corin. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Whom you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud, disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Celia. Well, and what of him ?
Corin. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
SCENE v.] AS YOU LIKE IT. ;i
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a Httle and 1 shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Rosalitid. O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. â
Bring us to see this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play. \Exeunt.
Scene V. Another Part of the Forest.
Enter SiLVius and Phebe.
Silvius. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me ; do not, Phebe ;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner.
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard,
Falls not the ax ^ upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives - by bloody drops ?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, behind.
Phebe. I would not be thy executioner ;
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye !
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, >
Who shut their coward gates on atomies.
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers !
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee!
Now counterfeit to swoon ; why, now fall down ;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame!
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers !
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee,
1 " Falls not the ax," i.e., lets not the ax fall.
2 " Dies and lives," i.e., lives and dies; earns a livelihood.
7t SHAKESPEARE. [act iii.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice ^ and capable impressure 2
Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at i hee, hurt thee not ;
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
Silvius. O dear Phebe,
If ever â as that ever may be near â
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love's keen arrows make.
Phebe. But till that time
Come not thou near me ; and when that time comes,
Afiflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
Rosalmd. [Advajicwg] And why, I pray you ? Who might
be your mother.
That you insult, exult, and all at once.
Over the wretched ? What though you have no beauty, â
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed, â
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ?
Why, what means this ? Why do you look on me ?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature's salework. â 'Od's my httle hfe,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too ! â
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair,
Your bugle ^ eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream.
That can entame my spirits to your worship. â
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her.
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ?
1 Scar; mark. 2 " Capable impressure," i.e., sensible impression.
3 Jet black, like the beads called " bugles."
SCENE v.] AS YOU LIKE IT. /J
You are a thousand times a properer ^ man
Than she a woman, 'Tis sucli fools as you
That make the world full of ill-fa vor'd children.
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her. â
But, mistress, know yourself ; down on your knees.
And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can, â you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy ; love him ; take his offer.
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. â
So take her to thee, shepherd ; fare you well.
Phebe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together ;
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
Rosalind. He's fallen in love with your foulness,- â and she'll
fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee
with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. â Why look
you so upon me ?
Phebe. For no ill will I bear you.
Rosalind. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine ;
Besides, I like you not. â If you will know my house,
'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. â
Will you go, sister ? â Shepherd, ply her hard. â
Come, sister. â Shepherdess, look on him better.
And be not proud ; though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd" in sight as he. â
Come, to our flock. \Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.
Phebe. Dead shepherd,* now I find thy saw of might :
"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ?"
1 Handsomer. 2 gee Note 4, p. 67. 3 Deceived.
* The reference is to Christopher Marlowe, who died in 1593! 3-nd the
line quoted is from his Hero and Leander. " ' Shepherd ' is used for ' poet '
in the language of pastoral poetry."
74 SHAKESPEARE. [act ili.
Silvius. Sweet Phebe, â
Phebe. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius ?
Silvius. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phebe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Silvius. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ;
If you do sorrow at my grief in love.
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.^
Phebe. Thou hast my love ; is not that neighborly ?
Silvius. I would have you.
Phebe. Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love ;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well.
Thy company, which erst - was irksome to m.e,
I will endure ; and I'll employ thee too ;
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Silvius. So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace.
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll Hve upon.
Phebe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile ?
Silvius. Not very well, but I have met him oft ;
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
That the old carlot^ once was master of.
Phebe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him ;
'Tis but a peevish^ boy ; â yet he talks well.
But what care I for words ? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth â not very pretty ;
But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him ;
1 Exterminated. 2 Lately. 3 Rustic. * Wayward.
scENK [.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 75
He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue
Did make ofifense his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall, yet for his years he's tall ;
His leg is but so-so, and yet 'tis well ;
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant ^ red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels" as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him ; but, for my part,
I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him;
For what had he to do to chide at me ?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me.
I marvel why I answer'd not again ;
But that's all one â omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter.
And thou shalt bear it ; wilt thou, Silvius ?
Silvius. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phebe. I'll write it straight ;
The matter's in my head and in my heart ;
I will be bitter with him, and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt.
Scene I. The Forest.
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and ] ^q\^^?.'s.
Jaques. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted
Rosalind. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
1 Uniform. 2 Detail.
76 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv
Jaques. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing.
Rosalitid. Those that are in extremity of either are abomi-
nable fellows, and betray themselves to every modem censure ^
worse than drunkards.
Jaqtces. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Rosalind. Why, then, 'tis good to be a post.
Jaques. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emu-
lation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's,
which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the
lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice,- nor the
lover's, which is all these ; but it is a melancholy of mine own,
compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and,
indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often
rumination wraps me in a most humorous ^ sadness.
Rosalind. A traveler ! By my faith, you have great reason to
be sad. I fear you have sold yotu- own lands to see other men's ;
then to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes
and poor hands.
Jaques. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.
Rosalind. And your experience makes you sad. I had rather
have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad ;
and to travel for it too !
Orlando. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind !
Jaques. Nay, then, God be wi' you, an* you talk in blank
Rosalind. Farewell, Monsieur Traveler ; look you lisp and wear
strange suits, disable-'' all the benefits of your own country, be
out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making
you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you have
swam in a gondola.^ â Why, how now, Orlando! where have
1 " Modem censure," i.e., ordinary judgment.
2 Fastidious. 3 Fanciful. 4 If. 5 Depreciate.
^ Venice, built on small isUnds iq a lagoon, is intersected by canals ; and
SCENE I.] AS ror LIKE IT. 77
you been all this while ? You a lover ! An vou sen-e me such
another trick, never come in my sight more.
Orlando. My fair Rosahnd, I come within an hour of my
Rosalind. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will
divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of
the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be
said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll