What said he ? How look'd he ? Wherein went l.e ?
What makes he here ? Did he ask for me ? Where
remains he ? How parted he with thee, and when shalt
diou sec him again? Answer me in one word.
46 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT II.
Cel. You must borrow me GaragantuaV mouth first:
't is a word too great for any mouth of this age's size.
To say, ay, and no, to these particulars is more than
to answer in a catechism.
Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and
in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he did the
day he wrestled ?
Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve the
propositions of a lover: but take a taste of my rinding
him, and relish it with good observance. I found him
under a tree, like a dropped acorn.
Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops
torth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Cel. There lay he stretch'd along, like a wounded
Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground.
Cel. Cry, holla ! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee ; it curvets
unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
Ros. ominous ! he comes to kill my heart.
Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : thou
bring'st 8 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. 'T is he : slink by, and note him.
[ROSALIND and CELIA retire.
Jaq. I thank you for your company ; but, good faith,
[ 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. Good bye, 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
love-songs in their barks.
Orl. 1 pray you mar no more of my verses with read-
ing them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name ?
Orl. Yes, just.
1 Rabelais' giant, who swallowed five pilgrims in a salad. * Puttert
sc. n. AS you LIKE IT. 47
Jag. I do not like her name.
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she
Jag. What stature is she of?
Orl. Just as high as my heart.
Jag. 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 1 ,
from whence you have studied your questions.
Jag. You have a nimble wit : I think 't was made of
Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me ? and we
two will rail against our mistress the world, and all out
Orl. T will chide no breather in the world, but my-
self, against whom I know most faults.
Jag. The worst fault you have is to be in love.
Orl. 'T is a fault I will not change for your best vir.
tue. I am weary of you.
Jag. By my troth, 1 was seeking for a fool when I
Orl. He is drown' d in the brook : look but in, and
you shall see him.
Jag. There I shall see mine own figure.
Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.
Jaq. I '11 tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good
Orl. I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good
[Exit JAQUES. ROSALIND and CELIA come forward.
Ros. [Aside to CELIA.] I will speak to him like a
saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave
with him. [To him.] Do you hear, forester ?
Orl. Very well : what would you ?
Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock ?
Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day . there 'a
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 ?
1 In the style of the moral maxims painted in common with pictures
m cloth, hung around rooms like tapestry.
18 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT IIL
Ros. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces
with divers persons. I '11 tell you who Time amblea
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, be-
tween 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
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
Orl. Who stands he 1 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.
Orl Are you native of this place ?
Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is
Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could
purchase in so removed a dwelling.
Ros. I have been told so of many : but, indeed, an
old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, whc
was in his youth an inland man ; one that knew court-
ship 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 touched with so many giddy
offences, as he hath generally taxed their whole sex
Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evili
that he laid to the charge of women ?
i stays it : in f. e.
SC. II. AS YOU LIKE IT. 49
Ros. There were none principal : they were all like
one another, as half-pence are ; every one fault seem-
ing monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it.
Orl. I pr'ythee. recount some of them.
Ros. 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 Rosa-
lind : if I could meet that fancy-monger I would give
him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quo-
tidian of love upon him.
Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you,
tell me your remedy.
Ros. 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.
Orl. What were his marks ?
Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not : a blue eye,
and sunken, which you have not ; an unquestionable
spirit, which you have not ; a beard neglected, which
you have not : 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
unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied,
and every thing about you demonstrating a careless
desolation. But you are no such man ; you are rather
point-device 1 in your accoutrements ; as loving yourself,
than seeming the lover of any other.
Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe
Ros. 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 con-
sciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs
the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so ad-
Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
R os. But are you so much in love as your rhymes
Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
1 Exact ; derived from a kind of needlework.
VOL. III. 4
50 AS ?OU LIKE IT. ACT III.
Ros. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, de-
serves as well a dark house, and a whip, as madmen
do ; and the reason why they are not so punished and
cured, is. that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whip-
pers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
Orl. Did you ever cure any so ?
Ros. 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 effeminate, changeable, long-
ing, and liking proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, in-
constant, full of tears, full of smiles ; for every passion
something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys
and women are, for the most part, cattle of this colour :
would now like him, now loathe him ; then entertain
him, then forswear him ; now weep for him, then spit
at him j that I drave my suitor from his mad humour
of love, to a loving humour of madness ; which was, to
forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a
nook, merely monastic. And thus I cured him ; and
this way will 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.
Orl. I would not be cured, youth.
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me
Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me.
Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me
where it is.
Ros. Go with me to it, and I '11 show it you ; and,
by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you
live. Will you go?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth.
Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sis-
ter, will you go ? [Exeunt.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY ; JAQUES behind,
Touth. 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 ?
Aud. Your features ? Lord warrant us ! what fea-
Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the
8C. III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 51
most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was amojg the
Jag. [Aside.] O knowledge ill-inhabited ! worse
than Jove in a thatch'd house I 1
Touch. When a man's verses cannot be understood,
nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child,
understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great
reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods
had made thee poetical.
And. I do not know what poetical is. Is it honest
ii. deed, and word ? Is it a true thing ?
Touch. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most
feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry, and what
they swear in poetry, it may be said, as lovers they do
Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me
Touch. I do, truly ; for thou swear'st to me, thou art
honest : now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some
hope thou didst feign.
Aud. Would you not have me honest?
'Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured;
for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce
Jaq. [Aside] A material fool.
Aud. Well, I am not fair, and therefore, I pray the
gods, make me honest !
Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul
slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am
Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness :
sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may
be, I will marry thee ; and to that end, I have been
with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village,
who hath promised to meet me in this place of the
forest, and to couple us.
Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting.
Aud. Well, the gods give us joy.
Touch. Amen. A man might, if he were of a fearful
heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here we have no
temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts.
But what though ? Courage ! As horns are odious,
1 Alluding to Baucis and Philemon, in Ovid. 2 Homely.
52 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT IIL
they are necessary. It is said, many a man knows
nc end of his goods : right ; many a man has good
horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the
dowry of his wife : 't is none of his own getting. Are
horns given to poor men alone ? l No, no ; the noblest
deer hath them as huge as the rascal*. Is the single
man therefore blessed ? No : as a wall'd town is more
worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married
man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor ;
and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so
much is a horn more precious than to want.
Enter Sir OLIVER MAR-TEXT.
Here comes sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are
well met : will you dispatch us here under this tree, or
shall we go with you to your chapel ?
Sir OH. Is there none here to give the woman?
Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir OH. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage
is not lawful.
Jaq. [coming forward.] Proceed, proceed : I '11 give
Touch. Good even, good Mr. What-ye-call 't : how
do you, sir ? You are very well met : God'ild you 3 for
your last company. I am very glad to see you : even
a toy in hand here, sir. Nay ; pray, be cover'd.
Jaq. Will you be married, motley ?
Touch. 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.
Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding,
be married 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
pannel, and. like green timber, warp. warp.
Touch. I am not in the mind, but I were better tc
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.
Jaq. Go thou witli me, and let me counsel thee.
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey :
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
1 in f. e. : Horns ? Even so : Poor men alone ? a Leai . poor deet.
Yield you . * Yoke, shaped like a bow.
BC. IV. AS YOU LIKE IT. 53
Farewell, good master Oliver i Not
sweet Oliver ! brave Oliver !
Leave me not behind thee :
But wend* away, begone, I say,
I will not. to wedding bind 1 thee.
[Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY
Sir Oli. 'T is no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave
of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit.
SCENE IV. The Same. Before a Cottage.
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.
Ros. Never talk to me : I will weep.
Cel. Do, I pr'ythee ; but yet have the grace to con-
sider, that tears do not become a man.
Ros. But have I not cause to weep ?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire : therefore
Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
Cel. Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his
kisses are Judas' s own children.
Ros. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour.
Cel. An excellent colour : your chestnut was ever
the only colour.
Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the
touch of holy bread.
Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana :
a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously j
the very ice of chastity is in them.
Ros. But why did he swear he would come thia
morning, and comes not?
Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Ros. Do you think so ?
Cel. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a
horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think him
as concave as a covered 3 goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.
Ros. Not true in love ?
Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is not in.
JRos. You have heard him swear downright, he was.
Cel. 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 your father.
Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much ques-
1 wind : in f. e. with : in f. e. 3 Empty.
54 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT in,
tion with him. He asked me, of what parentage I
was ? I told him, of as good as he ; so he laughed,
and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when
there is such a man as Orlando ?
Cel. 0, 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 puny tilter. that spurs his horse but on one
side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all 's
brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides. Who
comes here ?
Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquir'd
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Cel. Well ; and what of him ?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love,
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Ros. ! come, let us remove :
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
I '11 prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt
SCENE V. Another Part of the Forest.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.
Sil. 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 th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,
But first begs pardon : will you sterner be
Than he that kills 1 and lives by bloody drops ?
Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind.
Phe. 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 :
! T is pretty, sure, and very probable,
That ;yes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
80. V. AS YOU LIKE IT. 55
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murdertrs !
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. 0, for shame / for shame !
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee :
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and palpable 1 impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am eure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
Sil. 0! dearPhebe,
If ever, (as that ever may be near)
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love's keen arrows make.
Phe. But till that time
Come not thou near me ; and when that time comes
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not.
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
Ros. [Advancing.] And why, I pray you? Whc
might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched ? What though you have no beauty
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed,
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 sale-work : Od's my little life !
I think she means to tangle my eyes too.
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it :
'T is not your inky brows, your black-silk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ?
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than she a woman : 't is such fools as you,
i capable : in f. e.
56 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT HI
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children.
'T is 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.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees.
And (hank heaven fasting for a good man's love;
. For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can: 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.
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you. chide a year together.
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.
Ros. He 's fallen in love with your foulness, and
she '11 fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast
as she answers thee with frowning looks, I '11 sauce
her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me ?
Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine :
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
'T is at the tuft of olives, here hard by.
Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. 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.
Come, to our flock.
[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN.
Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might;
" Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?"
Sil. Sweet Phebe !
Phe. Ha ! what say'st thou, Silviug?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee gentle Silvius.
Sil. 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.
Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.
Phe. Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
>An allvuion to Mai kwe and his Hero and Leander, where the quota
Won is to be found.
SC. V. AS YOU LIKE IT. 57
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 me,
[ will endure, and I '11 employ thee, too ',
But do not look for farther recompense,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. 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 '11 live upon.
Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me er
Sil. 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.
Phe. Think not I love him. though I ask for him.
'T is but a peevish boy ; 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 : not very pretty :
But. sure, he 's proud ; and yet his pride becomes him.
He '11 make a proper man : the best thing in him
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, 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 't is 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;
Ana, now I am remember'd. scorn'd at me :
I marvel why I answer'd not again :
But that 's all one ; omittance is no quittance.
1 '11 write to him a very taunting letter.
And thou shalt bear it : wilt thou, Silvius?
58 AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT IV.
Sil. Phebe. with all ray heart.
Phe. I '11 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 of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.
Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better
acquainted with thee.
Ros. They say. you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq. I am so: I do love it better than laughing.
Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are
abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every
modern censure worse than drunkards.
Jaq. Why, 't is good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 't is good to be a post.
Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which
is emulation: 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, com-
pounded of many simples, extracted from many objects,