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As You Like It
Entire Play

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Entire Play

In As You Like It, witty words and romance play out against the disputes of divided pairs of brothers. Orlando’s older…

Act 1, scene 1

Orlando demands that his elder brother Oliver give him part of the money left by their father. Oliver decides to…

Act 1, scene 2

Orlando wins the wrestling match and, at the same time, wins the heart of Rosalind, daughter of the legitimate duke,…

Act 1, scene 3

Duke Frederick suddenly decides to banish Rosalind. His daughter Celia, determined to go with Rosalind into exile, suggests that they…

Act 2, scene 1

In the Forest of Arden, the banished duke (Duke Senior) and the courtiers who share his exile discuss their life…

Act 2, scene 2

Duke Frederick, discovering Celia’s disappearance, suspects Orlando. He sends servants to bring Orlando to court.

Act 2, scene 3

Orlando learns from Adam, an old servant, that Oliver plans to kill Orlando. Adam and Orlando decide to go in…

Act 2, scene 4

Rosalind, Celia, and Touchstone reach the Forest of Arden. Rosalind is in disguise as a boy named Ganymede and Celia…

Act 2, scene 5

Amiens’ song celebrating life in the woods is mocked by Jaques’ parody of the song.

Act 2, scene 6

Orlando leaves Adam, near starvation, under a tree and goes off determined to find food.

Act 2, scene 7

As Duke Senior and his companions sit down to eat, Orlando enters, demanding food. Welcomed by the duke, he brings…

Act 3, scene 1

Duke Frederick gives Oliver one year to produce Orlando. In the interim, he seizes Oliver’s lands.

Act 3, scene 2

Orlando hangs poems in praise of Rosalind on trees in the forest, where Rosalind and Celia find them. In disguise…

Act 3, scene 3

Touchstone, desiring a goat-keeper named Audrey, has arranged for a country priest to marry them in the woods. Jaques persuades…

Act 3, scene 4

Corin invites “Ganymede” and “Aliena” to observe the lovelorn Silvius as Silvius courts the disdainful Phoebe.

Act 3, scene 5

“Ganymede” intervenes to try to help Silvius prevail over Phoebe and win her love. Instead, Phoebe falls in love with…

Act 4, scene 1

Rosalind, as Ganymede, pretends to be Rosalind while Orlando courts her. With Celia as priest, they go through the beginning…

Act 4, scene 2

Duke Senior’s courtiers celebrate their having killed a deer.

Act 4, scene 3

Phoebe sends “Ganymede” a letter offering herself in marriage. As Rosalind and Celia wait for Orlando, they learn that he…

Act 5, scene 1

Touchstone verbally overpowers William, a rival for Audrey’s love.

Act 5, scene 2

Orlando, envious that his brother Oliver and “Aliena,” having fallen in love, plan to be married immediately, tells “Ganymede” how…

Act 5, scene 3

Touchstone and Audrey listen while two pages sing.

Act 5, scene 4

In the presence of Duke Senior and his lords, “Ganymede” reminds Orlando, Silvius, and Phoebe of their promises. “He” and…

Act 5, epilogue

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ACT 1
Scene 1
Enter Orlando and Adam.

ORLANDO As I remember, Adam, it was upon this
 fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand
 crowns, and, as thou sayst, charged my brother on
 his blessing to breed me well. And there begins my
5 sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and
 report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he
 keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more
 properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you
 that “keeping,” for a gentleman of my birth, that
10 differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are
 bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their
 feeding, they are taught their manage and, to that
 end, riders dearly hired. But I, his brother, gain
 nothing under him but growth, for the which his
15 animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him
 as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives
 me, the something that nature gave me his countenance
 seems to take from me. He lets me feed with
 his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as
20 much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my
 education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me, and the
 spirit of my father, which I think is within me,
 begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no
7

9
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 1

 longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy
25 how to avoid it.

Enter Oliver.

ADAM Yonder comes my master, your brother.
ORLANDO Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
 will shake me up.Adam steps aside.
OLIVER Now, sir, what make you here?
ORLANDO 30Nothing. I am not taught to make anything.
OLIVER What mar you then, sir?
ORLANDO Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that
 which God made, a poor unworthy brother of
 yours, with idleness.
OLIVER 35Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught
 awhile.
ORLANDO Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with
 them? What prodigal portion have I spent that I
 should come to such penury?
OLIVER 40Know you where you are, sir?
ORLANDO O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.
OLIVER Know you before whom, sir?
ORLANDO Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I
 know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle
45 condition of blood you should so know me. The
 courtesy of nations allows you my better in that you
 are the first-born, but the same tradition takes not
 away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt
 us. I have as much of my father in me as you, albeit I
50 confess your coming before me is nearer to his
 reverence.
OLIVER, threatening Orlando What, boy!
ORLANDO, holding off Oliver by the throat Come,
 come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
OLIVER 55Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
ORLANDO I am no villain. I am the youngest son of Sir

11
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 1

 Rowland de Boys. He was my father, and he is
 thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains.
 Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this
60 hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out
 thy tongue for saying so. Thou hast railed on thyself.
ADAM, coming forward Sweet masters, be patient. For
 your father’s remembrance, be at accord.
OLIVER, to Orlando Let me go, I say.
ORLANDO 65I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My
 father charged you in his will to give me good
 education. You have trained me like a peasant,
 obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike
 qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
70 me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow
 me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or
 give me the poor allottery my father left me by
 testament. With that I will go buy my fortunes.
Orlando releases Oliver.
OLIVER And what wilt thou do—beg when that is
75 spent? Well, sir, get you in. I will not long be
 troubled with you. You shall have some part of your
 will. I pray you leave me.
ORLANDO I will no further offend you than becomes
 me for my good.
OLIVER, to Adam 80Get you with him, you old dog.
ADAM Is “old dog” my reward? Most true, I have lost
 my teeth in your service. God be with my old
 master. He would not have spoke such a word.
Orlando and Adam exit.
OLIVER Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I
85 will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand
 crowns neither.—Holla, Dennis!

Enter Dennis.

DENNIS Calls your Worship?

13
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 1

OLIVER Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to
 speak with me?
DENNIS 90So please you, he is here at the door and
 importunes access to you.
OLIVER Call him in. Dennis exits. ’Twill be a good
 way, and tomorrow the wrestling is.

Enter Charles.

CHARLES Good morrow to your Worship.
OLIVER 95Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news
 at the new court?
CHARLES There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old
 news. That is, the old duke is banished by his
 younger brother the new duke, and three or four
100 loving lords have put themselves into voluntary
 exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich
 the new duke. Therefore he gives them good leave
 to wander.
OLIVER Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter,
105 be banished with her father?
CHARLES O, no, for the Duke’s daughter her cousin so
 loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together,
 that she would have followed her exile or have
 died to stay behind her. She is at the court and no
110 less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter,
 and never two ladies loved as they do.
OLIVER Where will the old duke live?
CHARLES They say he is already in the Forest of Arden,
 and a many merry men with him; and there they
115 live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say
 many young gentlemen flock to him every day and
 fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden
 world.
OLIVER What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new
120 duke?

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ACT 1. SC. 1

CHARLES Marry, do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you
 with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand
 that your younger brother Orlando hath a
 disposition to come in disguised against me to try a
125 fall. Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he
 that escapes me without some broken limb shall
 acquit him well. Your brother is but young and
 tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil
 him, as I must for my own honor if he come in.
130 Therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to
 acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him
 from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well
 as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own
 search and altogether against my will.
OLIVER 135Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which
 thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had
 myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and
 have by underhand means labored to dissuade him
 from it; but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles, it is
140 the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of
 ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s good
 parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me
 his natural brother. Therefore use thy discretion. I
 had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger.
145 And thou wert best look to ’t, for if thou dost him
 any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace
 himself on thee, he will practice against thee by
 poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device,
 and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by
150 some indirect means or other. For I assure thee—
 and almost with tears I speak it—there is not one so
 young and so villainous this day living. I speak but
 brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to
 thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must
155 look pale and wonder.
CHARLES I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he

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As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 2

 come tomorrow, I’ll give him his payment. If ever
 he go alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more.
 And so God keep your Worship.
OLIVER 160Farewell, good Charles.Charles exits.
 Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an
 end of him, for my soul—yet I know not why—
 hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle, never
 schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all
165 sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in
 the heart of the world, and especially of my own
 people, who best know him, that I am altogether
 misprized. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler
 shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the
170 boy thither, which now I’ll go about.
He exits.


Scene 2
Enter Rosalind and Celia.

CELIA I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
ROSALIND Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am
 mistress of, and would you yet I were merrier?
 Unless you could teach me to forget a banished
5 father, you must not learn me how to remember
 any extraordinary pleasure.
CELIA Herein I see thou lov’st me not with the full
 weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished
 father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father,
10 so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught
 my love to take thy father for mine. So wouldst thou,
 if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously
 tempered as mine is to thee.
ROSALIND Well, I will forget the condition of my estate
15 to rejoice in yours.

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As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 2

CELIA You know my father hath no child but I, nor
 none is like to have; and truly, when he dies, thou
 shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away from
 thy father perforce, I will render thee again in
20 affection. By mine honor I will, and when I break
 that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet
 Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
ROSALIND From henceforth I will, coz, and devise
 sports. Let me see—what think you of falling in
25 love?
CELIA Marry, I prithee do, to make sport withal; but
 love no man in good earnest, nor no further in
 sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou
 mayst in honor come off again.
ROSALIND 30What shall be our sport, then?
CELIA Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune
 from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be
 bestowed equally.
ROSALIND I would we could do so, for her benefits are
35 mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman
 doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
CELIA ’Tis true, for those that she makes fair she scarce
 makes honest, and those that she makes honest she
 makes very ill-favoredly.
ROSALIND 40Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to
 Nature’s. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in
 the lineaments of nature.
CELIA No? When Nature hath made a fair creature,
 may she not by fortune fall into the fire?

Enter Touchstone.

45 Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune,
 hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the
 argument?

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As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 2

ROSALIND Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature,
 when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the
50 cutter-off of Nature’s wit.
CELIA Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither,
 but Nature’s, who perceiveth our natural wits too
 dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent
 this natural for our whetstone, for always the dullness
55 of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. To
 Touchstone. 
How now, wit, whither wander you?
TOUCHSTONE Mistress, you must come away to your
 father.
CELIA Were you made the messenger?
TOUCHSTONE 60No, by mine honor, but I was bid to come
 for you.
ROSALIND Where learned you that oath, fool?
TOUCHSTONE Of a certain knight that swore by his
 honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his
65 honor the mustard was naught. Now, I’ll stand to it,
 the pancakes were naught and the mustard was
 good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
CELIA How prove you that in the great heap of your
 knowledge?
ROSALIND 70Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
TOUCHSTONE Stand you both forth now: stroke your
 chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
CELIA By our beards (if we had them), thou art.
TOUCHSTONE By my knavery (if I had it), then I were.
75 But if you swear by that that is not, you are not
 forsworn. No more was this knight swearing by his
 honor, for he never had any, or if he had, he had
 sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or
 that mustard.
CELIA 80Prithee, who is ’t that thou mean’st?
TOUCHSTONE One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
CELIA My father’s love is enough to honor him.

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As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 2

 Enough. Speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped
 for taxation one of these days.
TOUCHSTONE 85The more pity that fools may not speak
 wisely what wise men do foolishly.
CELIA By my troth, thou sayest true. For, since the little
 wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery
 that wise men have makes a great show. Here
90 comes Monsieur Le Beau.

Enter Le Beau.

ROSALIND With his mouth full of news.
CELIA Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their
 young.
ROSALIND Then shall we be news-crammed.
CELIA 95All the better. We shall be the more
 marketable.—Bonjour, Monsieur Le Beau. What’s
 the news?
LE BEAU Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
CELIA Sport? Of what color?
LE BEAU 100What color, madam? How shall I answer you?
ROSALIND As wit and fortune will.
TOUCHSTONE Or as the destinies decrees.
CELIA Well said. That was laid on with a trowel.
TOUCHSTONE Nay, if I keep not my rank—
ROSALIND 105Thou losest thy old smell.
LE BEAU You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of
 good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
ROSALIND Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
LE BEAU I will tell you the beginning, and if it please
110 your Ladyships, you may see the end, for the best is
 yet to do, and here, where you are, they are coming
 to perform it.
CELIA Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.
LE BEAU There comes an old man and his three sons—
CELIA 115I could match this beginning with an old tale.

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As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 2

LE BEAU Three proper young men of excellent growth
 and presence.
ROSALIND With bills on their necks: “Be it known unto
 all men by these presents.”
LE BEAU 120The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles,
 the Duke’s wrestler, which Charles in a moment
 threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is
 little hope of life in him. So he served the second,
 and so the third. Yonder they lie, the poor old man
125 their father making such pitiful dole over them that
 all the beholders take his part with weeping.
ROSALIND Alas!
TOUCHSTONE But what is the sport, monsieur, that the
 ladies have lost?
LE BEAU 130Why, this that I speak of.
TOUCHSTONE Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is
 the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was
 sport for ladies.
CELIA Or I, I promise thee.
ROSALIND 135But is there any else longs to see this broken
 music in his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon
 rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?
LE BEAU You must if you stay here, for here is the place
 appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to
140 perform it.
CELIA Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay
 and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and Attendants.


DUKE FREDERICK Come on. Since the youth will not be
 entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
ROSALIND, to Le Beau 145Is yonder the man?
LE BEAU Even he, madam.
CELIA Alas, he is too young. Yet he looks successfully.

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ACT 1. SC. 2

DUKE FREDERICK How now, daughter and cousin? Are
 you crept hither to see the wrestling?
ROSALIND 150Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
DUKE FREDERICK You will take little delight in it, I can
 tell you, there is such odds in the man. In pity of the
 challenger’s youth, I would fain dissuade him, but
 he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if
155 you can move him.
CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
DUKE FREDERICK Do so. I’ll not be by.
He steps aside.
LE BEAU, to Orlando Monsieur the challenger, the
 Princess calls for you.
ORLANDO 160I attend them with all respect and duty.
ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged Charles the
 wrestler?
ORLANDO No, fair princess. He is the general challenger.
 I come but in as others do, to try with him the
165 strength of my youth.
CELIA Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for
 your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s
 strength. If you saw yourself with your eyes or knew
 yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure
170 would counsel you to a more equal enterprise.
 We pray you for your own sake to embrace your
 own safety and give over this attempt.
ROSALIND Do, young sir. Your reputation shall not
 therefore be misprized. We will make it our suit to
175 the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward.
ORLANDO I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
 thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny
 so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your
 fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial,
180 wherein, if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that
 was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is
 willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for

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ACT 1. SC. 2

 I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for
 in it I have nothing. Only in the world I fill up a
185 place which may be better supplied when I have
 made it empty.
ROSALIND The little strength that I have, I would it
 were with you.
CELIA And mine, to eke out hers.
ROSALIND 190Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in
 you.
CELIA Your heart’s desires be with you.
CHARLES Come, where is this young gallant that is so
 desirous to lie with his mother Earth?
ORLANDO 195Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more
 modest working.
DUKE FREDERICK, coming forward You shall try but
 one fall.
CHARLES No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
200 him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded
 him from a first.
ORLANDO You mean to mock me after, you should not
 have mocked me before. But come your ways.
ROSALIND Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
CELIA 205I would I were invisible, to catch the strong
 fellow by the leg.
Orlando and Charles wrestle.
ROSALIND O excellent young man!
CELIA If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who
 should down.
Orlando throws Charles. Shout.
DUKE FREDERICK 210No more, no more.
ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your Grace. I am not yet well
 breathed.
DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles?
LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord.
DUKE FREDERICK 215Bear him away.
Charles is carried off by Attendants.
 What is thy name, young man?

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ACT 1. SC. 2

ORLANDO Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir
 Rowland de Boys.
DUKE FREDERICK 
 I would thou hadst been son to some man else.
220 The world esteemed thy father honorable,
 But I did find him still mine enemy.
 Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this
 deed
 Hadst thou descended from another house.
225 But fare thee well. Thou art a gallant youth.
 I would thou hadst told me of another father.
Duke exits with Touchstone, Le Beau,
Lords, and Attendants.

CELIA, to Rosalind 
 Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
ORLANDO 
 I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son,
 His youngest son, and would not change that calling
230 To be adopted heir to Frederick.
ROSALIND, to Celia 
 My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
 And all the world was of my father’s mind.
 Had I before known this young man his son,
 I should have given him tears unto entreaties
235 Ere he should thus have ventured.
CELIA  Gentle cousin,
 Let us go thank him and encourage him.
 My father’s rough and envious disposition
 Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserved.
240 If you do keep your promises in love
 But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
 Your mistress shall be happy.
ROSALIND, giving Orlando a chain from her neck 
 Gentleman,
 Wear this for me—one out of suits with Fortune,

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ACT 1. SC. 2

245 That could give more but that her hand lacks
 means.—
 Shall we go, coz?
CELIA  Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman.
ORLANDO, aside 
 Can I not say “I thank you”? My better parts
250 Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
ROSALIND, to Celia 
 He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes.
 I’ll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?
 Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown
255 More than your enemies.
CELIA Will you go, coz?
ROSALIND Have with you. To Orlando. Fare you well.
Rosalind and Celia exit.
ORLANDO 
 What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
260 O poor Orlando! Thou art overthrown.
 Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.

Enter Le Beau.

LE BEAU 
 Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
 High commendation, true applause, and love,
265 Yet such is now the Duke’s condition
 That he misconsters all that you have done.
 The Duke is humorous. What he is indeed
 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
ORLANDO 
 I thank you, sir, and pray you tell me this:
270 Which of the two was daughter of the duke
 That here was at the wrestling?

35
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

LE BEAU 
 Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners,
 But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter.
 The other is daughter to the banished duke,
275 And here detained by her usurping uncle
 To keep his daughter company, whose loves
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
 But I can tell you that of late this duke
 Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece,
280 Grounded upon no other argument
 But that the people praise her for her virtues
 And pity her for her good father’s sake;
 And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady
 Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well.
285 Hereafter, in a better world than this,
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
ORLANDO 
 I rest much bounden to you. Fare you well.
Le Beau exits.
 Thus must I from the smoke into the smother,
 From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother.
290 But heavenly Rosalind!
He exits.


Scene 3
Enter Celia and Rosalind.

CELIA Why, cousin! Why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy,
 not a word?
ROSALIND Not one to throw at a dog.
CELIA No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
5 upon curs. Throw some of them at me. Come, lame
 me with reasons.
ROSALIND Then there were two cousins laid up, when
 the one should be lamed with reasons, and the
 other mad without any.

37
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

CELIA 10But is all this for your father?
ROSALIND No, some of it is for my child’s father. O,
 how full of briers is this working-day world!
CELIA They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in
 holiday foolery. If we walk not in the trodden paths,
15 our very petticoats will catch them.
ROSALIND I could shake them off my coat. These burs
 are in my heart.
CELIA Hem them away.
ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry “hem” and have
20 him.
CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
ROSALIND O, they take the part of a better wrestler
 than myself.
CELIA O, a good wish upon you. You will try in time, in
25 despite of a fall. But turning these jests out of
 service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible on
 such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking
 with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?
ROSALIND The Duke my father loved his father dearly.
CELIA 30Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his
 son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him,
 for my father hated his father dearly. Yet I hate not
 Orlando.
ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
CELIA 35Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?
ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love
 him because I do.

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

 Look, here comes the Duke.
CELIA With his eyes full of anger.
DUKE FREDERICK, to Rosalind 
40 Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,
 And get you from our court.
ROSALIND Me, uncle?

39
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

DUKE FREDERICK You, cousin.
 Within these ten days if that thou beest found
45 So near our public court as twenty miles,
 Thou diest for it.
ROSALIND  I do beseech your Grace,
 Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me.
 If with myself I hold intelligence
50 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,
 If that I do not dream or be not frantic—
 As I do trust I am not—then, dear uncle,
 Never so much as in a thought unborn
 Did I offend your Highness.
DUKE FREDERICK 55 Thus do all traitors.
 If their purgation did consist in words,
 They are as innocent as grace itself.
 Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
ROSALIND 
 Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.
60 Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
DUKE FREDERICK 
 Thou art thy father’s daughter. There’s enough.
ROSALIND 
 So was I when your Highness took his dukedom.
 So was I when your Highness banished him.
 Treason is not inherited, my lord,
65 Or if we did derive it from our friends,
 What’s that to me? My father was no traitor.
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
 To think my poverty is treacherous.
CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
DUKE FREDERICK 
70 Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake;
 Else had she with her father ranged along.
CELIA 
 I did not then entreat to have her stay.
 It was your pleasure and your own remorse.

41
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

 I was too young that time to value her,
75 But now I know her. If she be a traitor,
 Why, so am I. We still have slept together,
 Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together,
 And, wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans
 Still we went coupled and inseparable.
DUKE FREDERICK 
80 She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness,
 Her very silence, and her patience
 Speak to the people, and they pity her.
 Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name,
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more
85 virtuous
 When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom
 Which I have passed upon her. She is banished.
CELIA 
 Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege.
90 I cannot live out of her company.
DUKE FREDERICK 
 You are a fool.—You, niece, provide yourself.
 If you outstay the time, upon mine honor
 And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Duke and Lords exit.
CELIA 
 O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
95 Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
 I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
ROSALIND I have more cause.
CELIA Thou hast not, cousin.
 Prithee, be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke
100 Hath banished me, his daughter?
ROSALIND  That he hath not.
CELIA 
 No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
 Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.

43
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

 Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet girl?
105 No, let my father seek another heir.
 Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
 Whither to go, and what to bear with us,
 And do not seek to take your change upon you,
 To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out.
110 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
 Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go?
CELIA 
 To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
ROSALIND 
 Alas, what danger will it be to us,
115 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
CELIA 
 I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire,
 And with a kind of umber smirch my face.
 The like do you. So shall we pass along
120 And never stir assailants.
ROSALIND  Were it not better,
 Because that I am more than common tall,
 That I did suit me all points like a man?
 A gallant curtal-ax upon my thigh,
125 A boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart
 Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will,
 We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside—
 As many other mannish cowards have
 That do outface it with their semblances.
CELIA 
130 What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
ROSALIND 
 I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page,
 And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
 But what will you be called?

45
As You Like It
ACT 1. SC. 3

CELIA 
 Something that hath a reference to my state:
135 No longer Celia, but Aliena.
ROSALIND 
 But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal
 The clownish fool out of your father’s court?
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
CELIA 
 He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me.
140 Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away
 And get our jewels and our wealth together,
 Devise the fittest time and safest way
 To hide us from pursuit that will be made
 After my flight. Now go we in content
145 To liberty, and not to banishment.
They exit.


ACT 2
Scene 1
Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like
foresters.


DUKE SENIOR 
 Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
 Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
 More free from peril than the envious court?
5 Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
 The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang
 And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
 Which when it bites and blows upon my body
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
10 “This is no flattery. These are counselors
 That feelingly persuade me what I am.”
 Sweet are the uses of adversity,
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
15 And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
AMIENS 
 I would not change it. Happy is your Grace,
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
20 Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
49

51
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 1

DUKE SENIOR 
 Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
 And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
 Being native burghers of this desert city,
 Should in their own confines with forkèd heads
25 Have their round haunches gored.
FIRST LORD  Indeed, my lord,
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
 And in that kind swears you do more usurp
 Than doth your brother that hath banished you.
30 Today my Lord of Amiens and myself
 Did steal behind him as he lay along
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
 To the which place a poor sequestered stag
35 That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt
 Did come to languish. And indeed, my lord,
 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
 Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
40 Coursed one another down his innocent nose
 In piteous chase. And thus the hairy fool,
 Much markèd of the melancholy Jaques,
 Stood on th’ extremest verge of the swift brook,
 Augmenting it with tears.
DUKE SENIOR 45 But what said Jaques?
 Did he not moralize this spectacle?
FIRST LORD 
 O yes, into a thousand similes.
 First, for his weeping into the needless stream:
 “Poor deer,” quoth he, “thou mak’st a testament
50 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
 To that which had too much. Then, being there
 alone,
 Left and abandoned of his velvet friends:
 “’Tis right,” quoth he. “Thus misery doth part

53
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 2

55 The flux of company.” Anon a careless herd,
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
 And never stays to greet him. “Ay,” quoth Jaques,
 “Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.
 ’Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look
60 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?”
 Thus most invectively he pierceth through
 The body of country, city, court,
 Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,
65 To fright the animals and to kill them up
 In their assigned and native dwelling place.
DUKE SENIOR 
 And did you leave him in this contemplation?
SECOND LORD 
 We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
 Upon the sobbing deer.
DUKE SENIOR 70 Show me the place.
 I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
 For then he’s full of matter.
FIRST LORD I’ll bring you to him straight.
They exit.


Scene 2
Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

DUKE FREDERICK 
 Can it be possible that no man saw them?
 It cannot be. Some villains of my court
 Are of consent and sufferance in this.
FIRST LORD 
 I cannot hear of any that did see her.
5 The ladies her attendants of her chamber
 Saw her abed, and in the morning early
 They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.

55
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 3

SECOND LORD 
 My lord, the roinish clown at whom so oft
 Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing.
10 Hisperia, the Princess’ gentlewoman,
 Confesses that she secretly o’erheard
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend
 The parts and graces of the wrestler
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles,
15 And she believes wherever they are gone
 That youth is surely in their company.
DUKE FREDERICK 
 Send to his brother. Fetch that gallant hither.
 If he be absent, bring his brother to me.
 I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly,
20 And let not search and inquisition quail
 To bring again these foolish runaways.
They exit.


Scene 3
Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting.

ORLANDO Who’s there?
ADAM 
 What, my young master, O my gentle master,
 O my sweet master, O you memory
 Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here?
5 Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
 Why would you be so fond to overcome
 The bonny prizer of the humorous duke?
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
10 Know you not, master, to some kind of men
 Their graces serve them but as enemies?
 No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

57
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 3

 O, what a world is this when what is comely
15 Envenoms him that bears it!
ORLANDO Why, what’s the matter?
ADAM O unhappy youth,
 Come not within these doors. Within this roof
 The enemy of all your graces lives.
20 Your brother—no, no brother—yet the son—
 Yet not the son, I will not call him son—
 Of him I was about to call his father,
 Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
 To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
25 And you within it. If he fail of that,
 He will have other means to cut you off.
 I overheard him and his practices.
 This is no place, this house is but a butchery.
 Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
ORLANDO 
30 Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
ADAM 
 No matter whither, so you come not here.
ORLANDO 
 What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,
 Or with a base and boist’rous sword enforce
 A thievish living on the common road?
35 This I must do, or know not what to do;
 Yet this I will not do, do how I can.
 I rather will subject me to the malice
 Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
ADAM 
 But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
40 The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
 Which I did store to be my foster nurse
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
 And unregarded age in corners thrown.
 Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
45 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

59
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 3

 Be comfort to my age. Here is the gold.
 All this I give you. Let me be your servant.
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty,
 For in my youth I never did apply
50 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
 The means of weakness and debility.
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
 Frosty but kindly. Let me go with you.
55 I’ll do the service of a younger man
 In all your business and necessities.
ORLANDO 
 O good old man, how well in thee appears
 The constant service of the antique world,
 When service sweat for duty, not for meed.
60 Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
 Where none will sweat but for promotion,
 And having that do choke their service up
 Even with the having. It is not so with thee.
 But, poor old man, thou prun’st a rotten tree
65 That cannot so much as a blossom yield
 In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
 But come thy ways. We’ll go along together,
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
 We’ll light upon some settled low content.
ADAM 
70 Master, go on, and I will follow thee
 To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
 Here livèd I, but now live here no more.
 At seventeen years, many their fortunes seek,
75 But at fourscore, it is too late a week.
 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
 Than to die well, and not my master’s debtor.
They exit.




61
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 4

Scene 4
Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and
Clown, alias Touchstone.


ROSALIND 
 O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were
 not weary.
ROSALIND I could find in my heart to disgrace my
5 man’s apparel and to cry like a woman, but I must
 comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose
 ought to show itself courageous to petticoat. Therefore
 courage, good Aliena.
CELIA I pray you bear with me. I cannot go no further.
TOUCHSTONE 10For my part, I had rather bear with you
 than bear you. Yet I should bear no cross if I did
 bear you, for I think you have no money in your
 purse.
ROSALIND Well, this is the Forest of Arden.
TOUCHSTONE 15Ay, now am I in Arden, the more fool I.
 When I was at home I was in a better place, but
 travelers must be content.
ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone.

Enter Corin and Silvius.

 Look you who comes here, a young man and an old
20 in solemn talk.

Rosalind, Celia, and Touchstone step aside and
eavesdrop.


CORIN, to Silvius 
 That is the way to make her scorn you still.
SILVIUS 
 O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!
CORIN 
 I partly guess, for I have loved ere now.

63
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 4

SILVIUS 
 No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
25 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
 As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow.
 But if thy love were ever like to mine—
 As sure I think did never man love so—
 How many actions most ridiculous
30 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
CORIN 
 Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
SILVIUS 
 O, thou didst then never love so heartily.
 If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly
 That ever love did make thee run into,
35 Thou hast not loved.
 Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
 Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
 Thou hast not loved.
 Or if thou hast not broke from company
40 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
 Thou hast not loved.
 O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe!He exits.
ROSALIND 
 Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound,
 I have by hard adventure found mine own.
TOUCHSTONE 45And I mine. I remember when I was in
 love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him
 take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I
 remember the kissing of her batler, and the cow’s
 dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked;
50 and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of
 her, from whom I took two cods and, giving her
 them again, said with weeping tears “Wear these for
 my sake.” We that are true lovers run into strange
 capers. But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature
55 in love mortal in folly.

65
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 4

ROSALIND Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of.
TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own
 wit till I break my shins against it.
ROSALIND 
 Jove, Jove, this shepherd’s passion
60 Is much upon my fashion.
TOUCHSTONE And mine, but it grows something stale
 with me.
CELIA I pray you, one of you question yond man, if he
 for gold will give us any food. I faint almost to death.
TOUCHSTONE, to Corin 65Holla, you clown!
ROSALIND Peace, fool. He’s not thy kinsman.
CORIN Who calls?
TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir.
CORIN Else are they very wretched.
ROSALIND, to Touchstone 
70 Peace, I say. As Ganymede, to Corin. Good even to
 you, friend.
CORIN 
 And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
75 Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.
 Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed,
 And faints for succor.
CORIN  Fair sir, I pity her
 And wish for her sake more than for mine own
80 My fortunes were more able to relieve her.
 But I am shepherd to another man
 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze.
 My master is of churlish disposition
 And little recks to find the way to heaven
85 By doing deeds of hospitality.
 Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
 Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,

67
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 5

 By reason of his absence, there is nothing
 That you will feed on. But what is, come see,
90 And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
CORIN 
 That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
 That little cares for buying anything.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
95 Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
 And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
CELIA, as Aliena 
 And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
 And willingly could waste my time in it.
CORIN 
 Assuredly the thing is to be sold.
100 Go with me. If you like upon report
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
 I will your very faithful feeder be
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly.
They exit.


Scene 5
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

Song.

AMIENS sings 
  Under the greenwood tree
  Who loves to lie with me
  And turn his merry note
  Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
5 Come hither, come hither, come hither.
  Here shall he see
  No enemy
 But winter and rough weather.

JAQUES More, more, I prithee, more.

69
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 5

AMIENS 10It will make you melancholy, Monsieur
 Jaques.
JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck
 melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs.
 More, I prithee, more.
AMIENS 15My voice is ragged. I know I cannot please you.
JAQUES I do not desire you to please me. I do desire
 you to sing. Come, more, another stanzo. Call you
 ’em “stanzos”?
AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES 20Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me
 nothing. Will you sing?
AMIENS More at your request than to please myself.
JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank
 you. But that they call “compliment” is like th’
25 encounter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks
 me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and
 he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing. And
 you that will not, hold your tongues.
AMIENS Well, I’ll end the song.—Sirs, cover the while;
30 the Duke will drink under this tree.—He hath been
 all this day to look you.
JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is
 too disputable for my company. I think of as many
 matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no
35 boast of them. Come, warble, come.

Song.


ALL together here. 
  Who doth ambition shun
  And loves to live i’ th’ sun,
  Seeking the food he eats
  And pleased with what he gets,
40 Come hither, come hither, come hither.
  Here shall he see
  No enemy
 But winter and rough weather.


71
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 6

JAQUES I’ll give you a verse to this note that I made
45 yesterday in despite of my invention.
AMIENS And I’ll sing it.
JAQUES Thus it goes:
  If it do come to pass
  That any man turn ass,
50  Leaving his wealth and ease
  A stubborn will to please,
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame.
  Here shall he see
  Gross fools as he,
55 An if he will come to me.

AMIENS What’s that “ducdame”?
JAQUES ’Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a
 circle. I’ll go sleep if I can. If I cannot, I’ll rail
 against all the first-born of Egypt.
AMIENS 60And I’ll go seek the Duke. His banquet is
 prepared.
They exit.


Scene 6
Enter Orlando and Adam.

ADAM Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for
 food. Here lie I down and measure out my grave.
 Farewell, kind master.He lies down.
ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in
5 thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a
 little. If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, I
 will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee.
 Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my
 sake, be comfortable. Hold death awhile at the
10 arm’s end. I will here be with thee presently, and if
 I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee
 leave to die. But if thou diest before I come, thou art

73
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 7

 a mocker of my labor. Well said. Thou look’st
 cheerly, and I’ll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest
15 in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some
 shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner if
 there live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good
 Adam.
They exit.


Scene 7
Enter Duke Senior and Lords, like outlaws.

DUKE SENIOR 
 I think he be transformed into a beast,
 For I can nowhere find him like a man.
FIRST LORD 
 My lord, he is but even now gone hence.
 Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
DUKE SENIOR 
5 If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
 We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
 Go seek him. Tell him I would speak with him.

Enter Jaques.

FIRST LORD 
 He saves my labor by his own approach.
DUKE SENIOR, to Jaques 
 Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this
10 That your poor friends must woo your company?
 What, you look merrily.
JAQUES 
 A fool, a fool, I met a fool i’ th’ forest,
 A motley fool. A miserable world!
 As I do live by food, I met a fool,
15 Who laid him down and basked him in the sun
 And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,

75
As You Like It
ACT 2. SC. 7

 In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
 “Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he,
 “Call me not ‘fool’ till heaven hath sent me
20 fortune.”
 And then he drew a dial from his poke
 And, looking on it with lack-luster eye,
 Says very wisely “It is ten o’clock.
 Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags.
25 ’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
 And after one hour more ’twill be eleven.
 And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
 And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
 And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear
30 The motley fool thus moral on the time,
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer
 That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
 And I did laugh sans intermission
 An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
35 A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.
DUKE SENIOR What fool is this?
JAQUES 
 O worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier,
 And says “If ladies be but young and fair,
 They have the gift to know it.” And in his brain,
40 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
 After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed
 With observation, the which he vents
 In mangled forms. O, that I were a fool!
 I am ambitious for a motley coat.
DUKE SENIOR 
45 Thou shalt have one.
JAQUES  It is my only suit,
 Provided that you weed your better judgments
 Of all opinion that grows rank in them
 That I am wise. I must have liberty
50 Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

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ACT 2. SC. 7

 To blow on whom I please, for so fools have.
 And they that are most gallèd with my folly,
 They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
 The “why” is plain as way to parish church:
55 He that a fool doth very wisely hit
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
 Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,
 The wise man’s folly is anatomized
 Even by the squand’ring glances of the fool.
60 Invest me in my motley. Give me leave
 To speak my mind, and I will through and through
 Cleanse the foul body of th’ infected world,
 If they will patiently receive my medicine.
DUKE SENIOR 
 Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
JAQUES 
65 What, for a counter, would I do but good?
DUKE SENIOR 
 Most mischievous foul sin in chiding sin;
 For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
 As sensual as the brutish sting itself,
 And all th’ embossèd sores and headed evils
70 That thou with license of free foot hast caught
 Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride
 That can therein tax any private party?
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea
75 Till that the weary very means do ebb?
 What woman in the city do I name
 When that I say the city-woman bears
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
 Who can come in and say that I mean her,
80 When such a one as she such is her neighbor?
 Or what is he of basest function
 That says his bravery is not on my cost,
 Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits

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ACT 2. SC. 7

 His folly to the mettle of my speech?
85 There then. How then, what then? Let me see
 wherein
 My tongue hath wronged him. If it do him right,
 Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free,
 Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies
90 Unclaimed of any man.

Enter Orlando, brandishing a sword.

 But who comes here?
ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more.
JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet.
ORLANDO 
 Nor shalt not till necessity be served.
JAQUES 95Of what kind should this cock come of?
DUKE SENIOR, to Orlando 
 Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress,
 Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
 That in civility thou seem’st so empty?
ORLANDO 
 You touched my vein at first. The thorny point
100 Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show
 Of smooth civility, yet am I inland bred
 And know some nurture. But forbear, I say.
 He dies that touches any of this fruit
 Till I and my affairs are answerèd.
JAQUES 105An you will not be answered with reason, I
 must die.
DUKE SENIOR, to Orlando 
 What would you have? Your gentleness shall force
 More than your force move us to gentleness.
ORLANDO 
 I almost die for food, and let me have it.
DUKE SENIOR 
110 Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.

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ACT 2. SC. 7

ORLANDO 
 Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you.
 I thought that all things had been savage here,
 And therefore put I on the countenance
 Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are
115 That in this desert inaccessible,
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,
 If ever you have looked on better days,
 If ever been where bells have knolled to church,
120 If ever sat at any good man’s feast,
 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
 And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied,
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be,
 In the which hope I blush and hide my sword.
He sheathes his sword.
DUKE SENIOR 
125 True is it that we have seen better days,
 And have with holy bell been knolled to church,
 And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our eyes
 Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered.
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
130 And take upon command what help we have
 That to your wanting may be ministered.
ORLANDO 
 Then but forbear your food a little while
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
 And give it food. There is an old poor man
135 Who after me hath many a weary step
 Limped in pure love. Till he be first sufficed,
 Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger,
 I will not touch a bit.
DUKE SENIOR  Go find him out,
140 And we will nothing waste till you return.
ORLANDO 
 I thank you; and be blessed for your good comfort.
He exits.

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ACT 2. SC. 7

DUKE SENIOR 
 Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.
 This wide and universal theater
 Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
145 Wherein we play in.
JAQUES  All the world’s a stage,
 And all the men and women merely players.
 They have their exits and their entrances,
 And one man in his time plays many parts,
150 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
 Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
 Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail
 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
155 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
 Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
 Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
 Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
 Seeking the bubble reputation
160 Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
 In fair round belly with good capon lined,
 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
 Full of wise saws and modern instances;
 And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
165 Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
 With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
 For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
170 And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
 That ends this strange eventful history,
 Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Enter Orlando, carrying Adam.


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ACT 2. SC. 7

DUKE SENIOR 
 Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
175 And let him feed.
ORLANDO I thank you most for him.
ADAM So had you need.—
 I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
DUKE SENIOR 
 Welcome. Fall to. I will not trouble you
180 As yet to question you about your fortunes.—
 Give us some music, and, good cousin, sing.

The Duke and Orlando continue their conversation,
apart.


Song.


AMIENS sings 
  Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
  Thou art not so unkind
  As man’s ingratitude.
185  Thy tooth is not so keen,
  Because thou art not seen,
  Although thy breath be rude.
 Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly.
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
190  Then heigh-ho, the holly.
  This life is most jolly.

  Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
  That dost not bite so nigh
  As benefits forgot.
195  Though thou the waters warp,
  Thy sting is not so sharp
  As friend remembered not.
 Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly.
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
200  Then heigh-ho, the holly.
  This life is most jolly.


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ACT 2. SC. 7

DUKE SENIOR, to Orlando 
 If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son,
 As you have whispered faithfully you were,
 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
205 Most truly limned and living in your face,
 Be truly welcome hither. I am the duke
 That loved your father. The residue of your fortune
 Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man,
 Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
210 To Lords. Support him by the arm. To Orlando.
 Give me your hand,
 And let me all your fortunes understand.
They exit.


ACT 3
Scene 1
Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver.

DUKE FREDERICK, to Oliver 
 Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be.
 But were I not the better part made mercy,
 I should not seek an absent argument
 Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
5 Find out thy brother wheresoe’er he is.
 Seek him with candle. Bring him, dead or living,
 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
 To seek a living in our territory.
 Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
10 Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands
 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth
 Of what we think against thee.
OLIVER 
 O, that your Highness knew my heart in this:
 I never loved my brother in my life.
DUKE FREDERICK 
15 More villain thou.—Well, push him out of doors,
 And let my officers of such a nature
 Make an extent upon his house and lands.
 Do this expediently, and turn him going.
They exit.



91

93
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ACT 3. SC. 2

Scene 2
Enter Orlando, with a paper.

ORLANDO 
 Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.
  And thou, thrice-crownèd queen of night, survey
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
  Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway.
5 O Rosalind, these trees shall be my books,
  And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character,
 That every eye which in this forest looks
  Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere.
 Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree
10 The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.
He exits.

Enter Corin and Touchstone.

CORIN And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master
 Touchstone?
TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a
 good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it
15 is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very
 well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile
 life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me
 well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is
 tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my
20 humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it
 goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy
 in thee, shepherd?
CORIN No more but that I know the more one sickens,
 the worse at ease he is, and that he that wants
25 money, means, and content is without three good
 friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire
 to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that
 a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he
 that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may

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ACT 3. SC. 2

30 complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull
 kindred.
TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast
 ever in court, shepherd?
CORIN No, truly.
TOUCHSTONE 35Then thou art damned.
CORIN Nay, I hope.
TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted
 egg, all on one side.
CORIN For not being at court? Your reason.
TOUCHSTONE 40Why, if thou never wast at court, thou
 never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st
 good manners, then thy manners must be wicked,
 and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou
 art in a parlous state, shepherd.
CORIN 45Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good
 manners at the court are as ridiculous in the
 country as the behavior of the country is most
 mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at
 the court but you kiss your hands. That courtesy
50 would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.
TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly. Come, instance.
CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
 fells, you know, are greasy.
TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat?
55 And is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as
 the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better
 instance, I say. Come.
CORIN Besides, our hands are hard.
TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow
60 again. A more sounder instance. Come.
CORIN And they are often tarred over with the surgery
 of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The
 courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet.
TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man. Thou worms’ meat in
65 respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed. Learn of the

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ACT 3. SC. 2

 wise and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar,
 the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance,
 shepherd.
CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll rest.
TOUCHSTONE 70Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee,
 shallow man. God make incision in thee; thou art
 raw.
CORIN Sir, I am a true laborer. I earn that I eat, get that
 I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness,
75 glad of other men’s good, content with my harm,
 and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze
 and my lambs suck.
TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring
 the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get
80 your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to
 a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth
 to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of
 all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for
 this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I
85 cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape.

Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.

CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new
 mistress’s brother.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, reading a paper 
 From the east to western Ind
 No jewel is like Rosalind.
90 Her worth being mounted on the wind,
 Through all the world bears Rosalind.
 All the pictures fairest lined
 Are but black to Rosalind.
 Let no face be kept in mind
95 But the fair of Rosalind.

TOUCHSTONE I’ll rhyme you so eight years together,
 dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted.
 It is the right butter-women’s rank to market.

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ACT 3. SC. 2

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Out, fool.
TOUCHSTONE 100For a taste:
 If a hart do lack a hind,
 Let him seek out Rosalind.
 If the cat will after kind,
 So be sure will Rosalind.
105 Wintered garments must be lined;
 So must slender Rosalind.
 They that reap must sheaf and bind;
 Then to cart with Rosalind.
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind;
110 Such a nut is Rosalind.
 He that sweetest rose will find
 Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.

 This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you
 infect yourself with them?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 115Peace, you dull fool. I found
 them on a tree.
TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I’ll graft it with you, and
 then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be
120 the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten
 ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of
 the medlar.
TOUCHSTONE You have said, but whether wisely or no,
 let the forest judge.

Enter Celia, as Aliena, with a writing.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede 125Peace. Here comes my sister
 reading. Stand aside.
CELIA, as Aliena, reads 
 Why should this a desert be?
  For it is unpeopled? No.
 Tongues I’ll hang on every tree
130  That shall civil sayings show.
 Some how brief the life of man
  Runs his erring pilgrimage,

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ACT 3. SC. 2

 That the stretching of a span
  Buckles in his sum of age;
135 Some of violated vows
  ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend.
 But upon the fairest boughs,
  Or at every sentence’ end,
 Will I “Rosalinda” write,
140  Teaching all that read to know
 The quintessence of every sprite
  Heaven would in little show.
 Therefore heaven nature charged
  That one body should be filled
145 With all graces wide-enlarged.
  Nature presently distilled
 Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,
  Cleopatra’s majesty,
 Atalanta’s better part,
150  Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
 Thus Rosalind of many parts
  By heavenly synod was devised
 Of many faces, eyes, and hearts
  To have the touches dearest prized.
155 Heaven would that she these gifts should have
 And I to live and die her slave.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede O most gentle Jupiter, what
 tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners
 withal, and never cried “Have patience,
160 good people!”
CELIA, as Aliena How now?—Back, friends. Shepherd,
 go off a little.—Go with him, sirrah.
TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable
 retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet
165 with scrip and scrippage.
Touchstone and Corin exit.
CELIA Didst thou hear these verses?
ROSALIND O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for

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ACT 3. SC. 2

 some of them had in them more feet than the verses
 would bear.
CELIA 170That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses.
ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not
 bear themselves without the verse, and therefore
 stood lamely in the verse.
CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy
175 name should be hanged and carved upon these
 trees?
ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the
 wonder before you came, for look here what I
 found on a palm tree. She shows the paper she
 read. 
180I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’
 time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly
 remember.
CELIA Trow you who hath done this?
ROSALIND Is it a man?
CELIA 185And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck.
 Change you color?
ROSALIND I prithee, who?
CELIA O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
 meet, but mountains may be removed with earthquakes
190 and so encounter.
ROSALIND Nay, but who is it?
CELIA Is it possible?
ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary
 vehemence, tell me who it is.
CELIA 195O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
 wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that
 out of all whooping!
ROSALIND Good my complexion, dost thou think
 though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a
200 doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of
 delay more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee,
 tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would
 thou couldst stammer, that thou might’st pour this

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ACT 3. SC. 2

 concealed man out of thy mouth as wine comes out
205 of a narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at
 once, or none at all. I prithee take the cork out of
 thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.
CELIA So you may put a man in your belly.
ROSALIND Is he of God’s making? What manner of
210 man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a
 beard?
CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard.
ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be
 thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if
215 thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s
 heels and your heart both in an instant.
ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking. Speak sad
 brow and true maid.
CELIA 220I’ faith, coz, ’tis he.
ROSALIND Orlando?
CELIA Orlando.
ROSALIND Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet
 and hose? What did he when thou saw’st him? What
225 said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What
 makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains
 he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou
 see him again? Answer me in one word.
CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first.
230 ’Tis 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.
ROSALIND But doth he know that I am in this forest and
 in man’s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the
235 day he wrestled?
CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the
 propositions of a lover. But take a taste of my
 finding him, and relish it with good observance. I
 found him under a tree like a dropped acorn.

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ACT 3. SC. 2

ROSALIND 240It may well be called Jove’s tree when it
 drops forth such fruit.
CELIA Give me audience, good madam.
ROSALIND Proceed.
CELIA There lay he, stretched along like a wounded
245 knight.
ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
 becomes the ground.
CELIA Cry “holla” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets
 unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.
ROSALIND 250O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart.
CELIA I would sing my song without a burden. Thou
 bring’st me out of tune.
ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? When I
 think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
CELIA 255You bring me out.

Enter Orlando and Jaques.

 Soft, comes he not here?
ROSALIND ’Tis he. Slink by, and note him.
Rosalind and Celia step aside.
JAQUES, to Orlando I thank you for your company,
 but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
ORLANDO 260And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I
 thank you too for your society.
JAQUES God be wi’ you. Let’s meet as little as we can.
ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers.
JAQUES I pray you mar no more trees with writing love
265 songs in their barks.
ORLANDO I pray you mar no more of my verses with
 reading them ill-favoredly.
JAQUES Rosalind is your love’s name?
ORLANDO Yes, just.
JAQUES 270I do not like her name.
ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when
 she was christened.

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JAQUES What stature is she of?
ORLANDO Just as high as my heart.
JAQUES 275You are full of pretty answers. Have you not
 been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives and
 conned them out of rings?
ORLANDO Not so. But I answer you right painted cloth,
 from whence you have studied your questions.
JAQUES 280You have a nimble wit. I think ’twas made of
 Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with me? And we
 two will rail against our mistress the world and all
 our misery.
ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but
285 myself, against whom I know most faults.
JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love.
ORLANDO ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best
 virtue. I am weary of you.
JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I
290 found you.
ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and
 you shall see him.
JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure.
ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
JAQUES 295I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good
 Signior Love.
ORLANDO I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good
 Monsieur Melancholy.Jaques exits.
ROSALIND, aside to Celia I will speak to him like a
300 saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave
 with him. As Ganymede. Do you hear, forester?
ORLANDO Very well. What would you?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I pray you, what is ’t
 o’clock?
ORLANDO 305You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s
 no clock in the forest.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Then there is no true lover
 in the forest; else sighing every minute and

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ACT 3. SC. 2

 groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of
310 time as well as a clock.
ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of time? Had not
 that been as proper?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede By no means, sir. Time
 travels in divers paces with divers persons. I’ll tell
315 you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal,
 who time gallops withal, and who he stands still
 withal.
ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Marry, he trots hard with a
320 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 year.
ORLANDO Who ambles time withal?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 325With 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,
330 the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious
 penury. These time ambles withal.
ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede With a thief to the gallows,
 for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks
335 himself too soon there.
ORLANDO Who stays it still withal?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede With lawyers in the vacation,
 for they sleep between term and term, and
 then they perceive not how time moves.
ORLANDO 340Where dwell you, pretty youth?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede With this shepherdess, my
 sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe
 upon a petticoat.
ORLANDO Are you native of this place?

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ACT 3. SC. 2

ROSALIND, as Ganymede 345As the cony that you see
 dwell where she is kindled.
ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you
 could purchase in so removed a dwelling.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I have been told so of many.
350 But indeed an old religious 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 touched
355 with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally
 taxed their whole sex withal.
ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils
 that he laid to the charge of women?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede There were none principal.
360 They were all like one another as halfpence are,
 every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow
 fault came to match it.
ORLANDO I prithee recount some of them.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede No, I will not cast away my
365 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
370 that fancy-monger, 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-shaked. I pray you tell
 me your remedy.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 375There 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.
ORLANDO What were his marks?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 380A lean cheek, which you

115
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ACT 3. SC. 2

 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
385 younger brother’s revenue. Then your hose should
 be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve
 unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything
 about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But
 you are no such man. You are rather point-device in
390 your accouterments, as loving yourself than seeming
 the lover of any other.
ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe
 I love.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Me believe it? You may as
395 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
400 wherein Rosalind is so admired?
ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede But are you so much in love
 as your rhymes speak?
ORLANDO 405Neither rhyme nor reason can express how
 much.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Love is merely a madness,
 and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a
 whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are
410 not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so
 ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I
 profess curing it by counsel.
ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Yes, one, and in this manner.
415 He was to imagine me his love, his mistress,
 and I set him every day to woo me; at which time

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ACT 3. SC. 3

 would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be
 effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud,
 fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears,
420 full of smiles; for every 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,
425 that I drave my suitor from his mad humor of love
 to a living humor 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
430 clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not
 be one spot of love in ’t.
ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I would cure you if you
 would but call me Rosalind and come every day to
435 my cote and woo me.
ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me
 where it is.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Go with me to it, and I’ll
 show it you; and by the way you shall tell me where
440 in the forest you live. Will you go?
ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, you must call me
 Rosalind.—Come, sister, will you go?
They exit.


Scene 3
Enter Touchstone and Audrey, followed by Jaques.

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?

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ACT 3. SC. 3

AUDREY Your features, Lord warrant us! What
5 features?
TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the
 most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the
 Goths.
JAQUES, aside O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than
10 Jove in a thatched house.
TOUCHSTONE 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
15 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
 feigning, and lovers are given to poetry, and what
20 they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do
 feign.
AUDREY Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me
 poetical?
TOUCHSTONE I do, truly, for thou swear’st to me thou
25 art honest. Now if thou wert a poet, I might have
 some hope thou didst feign.
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
30 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
35 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;

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ACT 3. SC. 3

40 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 Martext, the vicar of the next village,
 who hath promised to meet me in this place of the
 forest and to couple us.
JAQUES, aside 45I would fain see this meeting.
AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy.
TOUCHSTONE Amen. A man may, 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.
50 But what though? Courage. As horns are odious,
 they are necessary. It is said “Many a man knows no
 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; ’tis none of his own getting.
55 Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no. The
 noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the
 single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town
 is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of
 a married man more honorable than the bare brow
60 of a bachelor. And by how much defense is better
 than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious
 than to want.

Enter Sir Oliver Martext.

 Here comes Sir Oliver.—Sir Oliver Martext, you are
 well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree,
65 or shall we go with you to your chapel?
OLIVER MARTEXT Is there none here to give the
 woman?
TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on gift of any man.
OLIVER MARTEXT Truly, she must be given, or the
70 marriage is not lawful.
JAQUES, coming forward Proceed, proceed. I’ll give
 her.

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ACT 3. SC. 3

TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Monsieur What-you-call-’t.
 How do you, sir? You are very well met. God
75 ’ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see
 you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay, pray be
 covered.
JAQUES Will you be married, motley?
TOUCHSTONE As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his
80 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
 married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to
85 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 90I 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 95Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
TOUCHSTONE Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married,
 or we must live in bawdry.—Farewell, good
 Master Oliver, not
  O sweet Oliver,
100  O brave Oliver,
  Leave me not behind thee,

 But
  Wind away,
  Begone, I say,
105  I will not to wedding with thee.

Audrey, Touchstone, and Jaques exit.
OLIVER MARTEXT ’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical
 knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling.
He exits.




125
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ACT 3. SC. 4

Scene 4
Enter Rosalind, dressed as Ganymede, and Celia,
dressed as Aliena.


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 5As 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 10I’ faith, his hair is of a good color.
CELIA An excellent color. Your chestnut was ever the
 only color.
ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the
 touch of holy bread.
CELIA 15He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A
 nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more religiously.
 The very ice of chastity is in them.
ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this
 morning, and comes not?
CELIA 20Nay, 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 25Not 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
30 no stronger than the word of a tapster. They are
 both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends
 here in the forest on the Duke your father.

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ACT 3. SC. 4

ROSALIND I met the Duke yesterday and had much
 question with him. He asked me of what parentage
35 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?
CELIA O, that’s a brave man. He writes brave verses,
 speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks
40 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.

Enter Corin.

 Who comes here?
CORIN 
45 Mistress and master, you have oft inquired
 After the shepherd that complained of love,
 Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
 Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
 That was his mistress.
CELIA, as Aliena 50 Well, and what of him?
CORIN 
 If you will see a pageant truly played
 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
55 If you will mark it.
ROSALIND, aside to Celia O come, let us remove.
 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
 As Ganymede, to Corin. Bring us to this sight, and
 you shall say
60 I’ll prove a busy actor in their play.
They exit.




129
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ACT 3. SC. 5

Scene 5
Enter Silvius and Phoebe.

SILVIUS 
 Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me. Do not, Phoebe.
 Say that you love me not, but say not so
 In bitterness. The common executioner,
 Whose heart th’ accustomed sight of death makes
5 hard,
 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
 But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?

Enter, unobserved, Rosalind as Ganymede, Celia as
Aliena, and Corin.


PHOEBE 
 I would not be thy executioner.
10 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,
15 Should be called 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,
20 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 upon a rush,
 The cicatrice and capable impressure
25 Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;
 Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
 That can do hurt.

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ACT 3. SC. 5

SILVIUS O dear Phoebe,
30 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.
PHOEBE  But till that time
35 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.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, coming forward 
 And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
40 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—
45 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.—
50 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.—
 You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
55 Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
 You are a thousand times a properer man
 Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
 That makes the world full of ill-favored children.
 ’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
60 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 thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love,

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ACT 3. SC. 5

 For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
65 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.
PHOEBE 
 Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together.
70 I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
ROSALIND,as Ganymede He’s fall’n in love with your
 foulness. (To Silvius.) 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. (To
 Phoebe.) 
75Why look you so upon me?
PHOEBE For no ill will I bear you.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 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,
80 ’Tis 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 abused in sight as he.—
85 Come, to our flock.
She exits, with Celia and Corin.
PHOEBE, aside 
 Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:
 “Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
SILVIUS 
 Sweet Phoebe—
PHOEBE  Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius?
SILVIUS 90Sweet Phoebe, pity me.
PHOEBE 
 Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
SILVIUS 
 Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.

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ACT 3. SC. 5

 If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
 By giving love your sorrow and my grief
95 Were both extermined.
PHOEBE 
 Thou hast my love. Is not that neighborly?
SILVIUS 
 I would have you.
PHOEBE  Why, that were covetousness.
 Silvius, the time was that I hated thee;
100 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,
 I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too.
 But do not look for further recompense
105 Than thine own gladness that thou art employed.
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
110 That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then
 A scattered smile, and that I’ll live upon.
PHOEBE 
 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
115 That the old carlot once was master of.
PHOEBE 
 Think not I love him, though I ask for him.
 ’Tis 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.
120 It is a pretty youth—not very pretty—
 But sure he’s proud—and yet his pride becomes
 him.

137
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ACT 3. SC. 5

 He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him
 Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
125 Did make offense, 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
130 Than that mixed in his cheek: ’twas just the
 difference
 Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
 There be some women, Silvius, had they marked
 him
135 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?
140 He said mine eyes were black and my hair black,
 And now I am remembered, scorned at me.
 I marvel why I answered not again.
 But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance.
 I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,
145 And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius?
SILVIUS 
 Phoebe, with all my heart.
PHOEBE  I’ll write it straight.
 The matter’s in my head and in my heart.
 I will be bitter with him and passing short.
150 Go with me, Silvius.
They exit.


ACT 4
Scene 1
Enter Rosalind as Ganymede, and Celia as Aliena,
and Jaques.


JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better
 acquainted with thee.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede They say you are a melancholy
 fellow.
JAQUES 5I am so. I do love it better than laughing.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Those that are in extremity
 of either are abominable fellows and betray
 themselves to every modern censure worse than
 drunkards.
JAQUES 10Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Why then, ’tis good to be a
 post.
JAQUES I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which
 is emulation; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical;
15 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
20 from many objects, and indeed the sundry
 contemplation of my travels, in which my often
 rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede A traveller. By my faith, you
141

143
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 1

 have great reason to be sad. I fear you have sold
25 your 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 gained my experience.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede And your experience makes
30 you sad. I had rather have a fool to make me merry
 than experience to make me sad—and to travel for
 it too.

Enter Orlando.

ORLANDO 
 Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind.
JAQUES Nay then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank
35 verse.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Farewell, Monsieur Traveller.
 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
40 that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you
 have swam in a gondola.
Jaques exits.
 Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all
 this while? You a lover? An you serve me such
 another trick, never come in my sight more.
ORLANDO 45My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of
 my promise.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Break an hour’s promise in
 love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand
 parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a
50 minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him
 that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll
 warrant him heart-whole.
ORLANDO Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, an you be so tardy,

145
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ACT 4. SC. 1

55 come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of
 a snail.
ORLANDO Of a snail?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Ay, of a snail, for though he
 comes slowly, he carries his house on his head—a
60 better jointure, I think, than you make a woman.
 Besides, he brings his destiny with him.
ORLANDO What’s that?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Why, horns, which such as
 you are fain to be beholding to your wives for. But
65 he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the
 slander of his wife.
ORLANDO Virtue is no hornmaker, and my Rosalind is
 virtuous.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede And I am your Rosalind.
CELIA, as Aliena 70It pleases him to call you so, but he
 hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, to Orlando Come, woo me,
 woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like
 enough to consent. What would you say to me now
75 an I were your very, very Rosalind?
ORLANDO I would kiss before I spoke.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, you were better speak
 first, and when you were gravelled for lack of
 matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good
80 orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for
 lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest
 shift is to kiss.
ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Then she puts you to entreaty,
85 and there begins new matter.
ORLANDO Who could be out, being before his beloved
 mistress?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Marry, that should you if I
 were your mistress, or I should think my honesty
90 ranker than my wit.

147
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 1

ORLANDO What, of my suit?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Not out of your apparel, and
 yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
ORLANDO I take some joy to say you are because I
95 would be talking of her.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Well, in her person I say I
 will not have you.
ORLANDO Then, in mine own person I die.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede No, faith, die by attorney.
100 The poor world is almost six thousand years old,
 and in all this time there was not any man died in
 his own person, videlicet, in a love cause. Troilus
 had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club, yet
 he did what he could to die before, and he is one of
105 the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived
 many a fair year though Hero had turned nun, if it
 had not been for a hot midsummer night, for, good
 youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont
 and, being taken with the cramp, was
110 drowned; and the foolish chroniclers of that age
 found it was Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies.
 Men have died from time to time and worms have
 eaten them, but not for love.
ORLANDO I would not have my right Rosalind of this
115 mind, for I protest her frown might kill me.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede By this hand, it will not kill a
 fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more
 coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I
 will grant it.
ORLANDO 120Then love me, Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and
 Saturdays and all.
ORLANDO And wilt thou have me?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Ay, and twenty such.
ORLANDO 125What sayest thou?

149
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 1

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Are you not good?
ORLANDO I hope so.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Why then, can one desire
 too much of a good thing?—Come, sister, you shall
130 be the priest and marry us.—Give me your hand,
 Orlando.—What do you say, sister?
ORLANDO, to Celia Pray thee marry us.
CELIA, as Aliena I cannot say the words.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede You must begin “Will you,
135 Orlando—”
CELIA, as Aliena Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to
 wife this Rosalind?
ORLANDO I will.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Ay, but when?
ORLANDO 140Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Then you must say “I take
 thee, Rosalind, for wife.”
ORLANDO I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I might ask you for your
145 commission, but I do take thee, Orlando, for my
 husband. There’s a girl goes before the priest, and
 certainly a woman’s thought runs before her
 actions.
ORLANDO So do all thoughts. They are winged.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 150Now tell me how long you
 would have her after you have possessed her?
ORLANDO Forever and a day.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Say “a day” without the
 “ever.” No, no, Orlando, men are April when they
155 woo, December when they wed. Maids are May
 when they are maids, but the sky changes when
 they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a
 Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous
 than a parrot against rain, more newfangled than
160 an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I
 will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain,

151
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 1

 and I will do that when you are disposed to be
 merry. I will laugh like a hyena, and that when thou
 art inclined to sleep.
ORLANDO 165But will my Rosalind do so?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede By my life, she will do as I
 do.
ORLANDO O, but she is wise.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Or else she could not have
170 the wit to do this. The wiser, the waywarder. Make
 the doors upon a woman’s wit, and it will out at the
 casement. Shut that, and ’twill out at the keyhole.
 Stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the
 chimney.
ORLANDO 175A man that had a wife with such a wit, he
 might say “Wit, whither wilt?”
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, you might keep that
 check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to
 your neighbor’s bed.
ORLANDO 180And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Marry, to say she came to
 seek you there. You shall never take her without her
 answer unless you take her without her tongue. O,
 that woman that cannot make her fault her husband’s
185 occasion, let her never nurse her child
 herself, for she will breed it like a fool.
ORLANDO For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave
 thee.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Alas, dear love, I cannot lack
190 thee two hours.
ORLANDO I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two
 o’clock I will be with thee again.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Ay, go your ways, go your
 ways. I knew what you would prove. My friends told
195 me as much, and I thought no less. That flattering
 tongue of yours won me. ’Tis but one cast away, and
 so, come, death. Two o’clock is your hour?

153
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 1

ORLANDO Ay, sweet Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede By my troth, and in good
200 earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty
 oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of
 your promise or come one minute behind your
 hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise,
 and the most hollow lover, and the most
205 unworthy of her you call Rosalind that may be
 chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful.
 Therefore beware my censure, and keep your
 promise.
ORLANDO With no less religion than if thou wert indeed
210 my Rosalind. So, adieu.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Well, time is the old justice
 that examines all such offenders, and let time try.
 Adieu.
Orlando exits.
CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate.
215 We must have your doublet and hose plucked
 over your head and show the world what the bird
 hath done to her own nest.
ROSALIND O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou
 didst know how many fathom deep I am in love. But
220 it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an
 unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
CELIA Or rather bottomless, that as fast as you pour
 affection in, it runs out.
ROSALIND No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that
225 was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born
 of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses
 everyone’s eyes because his own are out, let him be
 judge how deep I am in love. I’ll tell thee, Aliena, I
 cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I’ll go find a
230 shadow and sigh till he come.
CELIA And I’ll sleep.
They exit.




155
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

Scene 2
Enter Jaques and Lords, like foresters.

JAQUES Which is he that killed the deer?
FIRST LORD Sir, it was I.
JAQUES, to the other Lords Let’s present him to the
 Duke like a Roman conqueror. And it would do well
5 to set the deer’s horns upon his head for a branch of
 victory.—Have you no song, forester, for this
 purpose?
SECOND LORD Yes, sir.
JAQUES Sing it. ’Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it
10 make noise enough.

Music. Song.


SECOND LORD sings 
 What shall he have that killed the deer?
 His leather skin and horns to wear.
  Then sing him home.


(The rest shall bear this burden:)
 
 Take thou no scorn to wear the horn.
15 It was a crest ere thou wast born.
  Thy father’s father wore it,
  And thy father bore it.
 The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
 Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

They exit.


Scene 3
Enter Rosalind dressed as Ganymede and Celia
dressed as Aliena.


ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock?
 And here much Orlando.
CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain
 he hath ta’en his bow and arrows and is gone forth
5 to sleep.

157
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

Enter Silvius.

 Look who comes here.
SILVIUS, to Rosalind 
 My errand is to you, fair youth.
 My gentle Phoebe did bid me give you this.
He gives Rosalind a paper.
 I know not the contents, but as I guess
10 By the stern brow and waspish action
 Which she did use as she was writing of it,
 It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me.
 I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Rosalind reads the letter.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 Patience herself would startle at this letter
15 And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all.
 She says I am not fair, that I lack manners.
 She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
 Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will,
 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.
20 Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
 This is a letter of your own device.
SILVIUS 
 No, I protest. I know not the contents.
 Phoebe did write it.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede  Come, come, you are a
25 fool,
 And turned into the extremity of love.
 I saw her hand. She has a leathern hand,
 A freestone-colored hand. I verily did think
 That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands.
30 She has a huswife’s hand—but that’s no matter.
 I say she never did invent this letter.
 This is a man’s invention, and his hand.
SILVIUS Sure it is hers.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style,

159
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

35 A style for challengers. Why, she defies me
 Like Turk to Christian. Women’s gentle brain
 Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
 Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
 Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
SILVIUS 
40 So please you, for I never heard it yet,
 Yet heard too much of Phoebe’s cruelty.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes.
(Read.)
 Art thou god to shepherd turned,
 That a maiden’s heart hath burned?

45 Can a woman rail thus?
SILVIUS Call you this railing?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
(Read.)
 Why, thy godhead laid apart,
 Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?

 Did you ever hear such railing?
50 Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
 That could do no vengeance to me.

 Meaning me a beast.
 If the scorn of your bright eyne
 Have power to raise such love in mine,
55 Alack, in me what strange effect
 Would they work in mild aspect?
 Whiles you chid me, I did love.
 How then might your prayers move?
 He that brings this love to thee
60 Little knows this love in me,
 And by him seal up thy mind
 Whether that thy youth and kind
 Will the faithful offer take
 Of me, and all that I can make,
65 Or else by him my love deny,
 And then I’ll study how to die.


161
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

SILVIUS Call you this chiding?
CELIA, as Aliena Alas, poor shepherd.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Do you pity him? No, he
70 deserves no pity.—Wilt thou love such a woman?
 What, to make thee an instrument and play false
 strains upon thee? Not to be endured. Well, go your
 way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame
 snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I
75 charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never
 have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true
 lover, hence, and not a word, for here comes more
 company.Silvius exits.

Enter Oliver.

OLIVER 
 Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know,
80 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
 A sheepcote fenced about with olive trees?
CELIA, as Aliena 
 West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom;
 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
 Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
85 But at this hour the house doth keep itself.
 There’s none within.
OLIVER 
 If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
 Then should I know you by description—
 Such garments, and such years. “The boy is fair,
90 Of female favor, and bestows himself
 Like a ripe sister; the woman low
 And browner than her brother.” Are not you
 The owner of the house I did inquire for?
CELIA, as Aliena 
 It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.
OLIVER 
95 Orlando doth commend him to you both,

163
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

 And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
 He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
He shows a stained handkerchief.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 I am. What must we understand by this?
OLIVER 
 Some of my shame, if you will know of me
100 What man I am, and how, and why, and where
 This handkercher was stained.
CELIA, as Aliena  I pray you tell it.
OLIVER 
 When last the young Orlando parted from you,
 He left a promise to return again
105 Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
 Lo, what befell. He threw his eye aside—
 And mark what object did present itself:
 Under an old oak, whose boughs were mossed with
110 age
 And high top bald with dry antiquity,
 A wretched, ragged man, o’ergrown with hair,
 Lay sleeping on his back. About his neck
 A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
115 Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached
 The opening of his mouth. But suddenly,
 Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself
 And, with indented glides, did slip away
 Into a bush, under which bush’s shade
120 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
 Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch
 When that the sleeping man should stir—for ’tis
 The royal disposition of that beast
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.
125 This seen, Orlando did approach the man
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

165
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

CELIA, as Aliena 
 O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,
 And he did render him the most unnatural
 That lived amongst men.
OLIVER 130 And well he might so do,
 For well I know he was unnatural.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 But to Orlando: did he leave him there,
 Food to the sucked and hungry lioness?
OLIVER 
 Twice did he turn his back and purposed so,
135 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
 Made him give battle to the lioness,
 Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling,
 From miserable slumber I awaked.
CELIA, as Aliena 140Are you his brother?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Was ’t you he rescued?
CELIA, as Aliena 
 Was ’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER 
 ’Twas I, but ’tis not I. I do not shame
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion
145 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 But for the bloody napkin?
OLIVER  By and by.
 When from the first to last betwixt us two
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed—
150 As how I came into that desert place—
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
 Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
 Committing me unto my brother’s love;
 Who led me instantly unto his cave,
155 There stripped himself, and here upon his arm
 The lioness had torn some flesh away,

167
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

 Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
 And cried in fainting upon Rosalind.
 Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound,
160 And after some small space, being strong at heart,
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
 To tell this story, that you might excuse
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin
 Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth
165 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Rosalind faints.
CELIA, as Aliena 
 Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede?
OLIVER 
 Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
CELIA, as Aliena 
 There is more in it.—Cousin Ganymede.
OLIVER Look, he recovers.
ROSALIND 170I would I were at home.
CELIA, as Aliena We’ll lead you thither.—I pray you,
 will you take him by the arm?
OLIVER, helping Rosalind to rise Be of good cheer,
 youth. You a man? You lack a man’s heart.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 175I do so, I confess it. Ah,
 sirrah, a body would think this was well-counterfeited.
 I pray you tell your brother how well I
 counterfeited. Heigh-ho.
OLIVER This was not counterfeit. There is too great
180 testimony in your complexion that it was a passion
 of earnest.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Counterfeit, I assure you.
OLIVER Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to
 be a man.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 185So I do; but, i’ faith, I should
 have been a woman by right.
CELIA, as Aliena Come, you look paler and paler. Pray
 you draw homewards.—Good sir, go with us.

169
As You Like It
ACT 4. SC. 3

OLIVER 
 That will I, for I must bear answer back
190 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I shall devise something.
 But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him.
 Will you go?
They exit.


ACT 5
Scene 1
Enter Touchstone and Audrey.

TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey. Patience,
 gentle Audrey.
AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the
 old gentleman’s saying.
TOUCHSTONE 5A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most
 vile Martext. But Audrey, there is a youth here in
 the forest lays claim to you.
AUDREY Ay, I know who ’tis. He hath no interest in me
 in the world.

Enter William.

10 Here comes the man you mean.
TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to see a clown.
 By my troth, we that have good wits have much to
 answer for. We shall be flouting. We cannot hold.
WILLIAM Good ev’n, Audrey.
AUDREY 15God gi’ good ev’n, William.
WILLIAM, to Touchstone And good ev’n to you, sir.
TOUCHSTONE Good ev’n, gentle friend. Cover thy head,
 cover thy head. Nay, prithee, be covered. How old
 are you, friend?
WILLIAM 20Five-and-twenty, sir.
TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William?
WILLIAM William, sir.
173

175
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 1

TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i’ th’ forest here?
WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God.
TOUCHSTONE 25“Thank God.” A good answer. Art rich?
WILLIAM ’Faith sir, so-so.
TOUCHSTONE “So-so” is good, very good, very excellent
 good. And yet it is not: it is but so-so. Art thou wise?
WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
TOUCHSTONE 30Why, thou sayst well. I do now remember
 a saying: “The fool doth think he is wise, but the
 wise man knows himself to be a fool.” The heathen
 philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape,
 would open his lips when he put it into his mouth,
35 meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and
 lips to open. You do love this maid?
WILLIAM I do, sir.
TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
WILLIAM No, sir.
TOUCHSTONE 40Then learn this of me: to have is to have.
 For it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured
 out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth
 empty the other. For all your writers do consent
 that ipse is “he.” Now, you are not ipse, for I am he.
WILLIAM 45Which he, sir?
TOUCHSTONE He, sir, that must marry this woman.
 Therefore, you clown, abandon—which is in the
 vulgar “leave”—the society—which in the boorish
 is “company”—of this female—which in the common
50 is “woman”; which together is, abandon the
 society of this female, or, clown, thou perishest; or,
 to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill
 thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death,
 thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with
55 thee, or in bastinado, or in steel. I will bandy with
 thee in faction. I will o’errun thee with policy. I
 will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore
 tremble and depart.

177
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 2

AUDREY Do, good William.
WILLIAM, to Touchstone 60God rest you merry, sir.
He exits.

Enter Corin.

CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you. Come away,
 away.
TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey.—I attend, I
 attend.
They exit.


Scene 2
Enter Orlando, with his arm in a sling, and Oliver.

ORLANDO Is ’t possible that on so little acquaintance
 you should like her? That, but seeing, you should
 love her? And loving, woo? And wooing, she should
 grant? And will you persever to enjoy her?
OLIVER 5Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the
 poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden
 wooing, nor her sudden consenting, but say with
 me “I love Aliena”; say with her that she loves me;
 consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It
10 shall be to your good, for my father’s house and all
 the revenue that was old Sir Rowland’s will I estate
 upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.

ORLANDO You have my consent. Let your wedding be
 tomorrow. Thither will I invite the Duke and all ’s
15 contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena,
 for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, to Oliver God save you,
 brother.
OLIVER And you, fair sister.He exits.

179
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 2

ROSALIND, as Ganymede 20O my dear Orlando, how it
 grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.
ORLANDO It is my arm.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I thought thy heart had been
 wounded with the claws of a lion.
ORLANDO 25Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Did your brother tell you
 how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me
 your handkercher?
ORLANDO Ay, and greater wonders than that.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 30O, I know where you are.
 Nay, ’tis true. There was never anything so sudden
 but the fight of two rams, and Caesar’s thrasonical
 brag of “I came, saw, and overcame. For your
 brother and my sister no sooner met but they
35 looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner
 loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they
 asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the
 reason but they sought the remedy; and in these
 degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage,
40 which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent
 before marriage. They are in the very wrath
 of love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part
 them.
ORLANDO They shall be married tomorrow, and I will
45 bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a
 thing it is to look into happiness through another
 man’s eyes. By so much the more shall I tomorrow
 be at the height of heart-heaviness by how much I
 shall think my brother happy in having what he
50 wishes for.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Why, then, tomorrow I cannot
 serve your turn for Rosalind?
ORLANDO I can live no longer by thinking.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede I will weary you then no
55 longer with idle talking. Know of me then—for

181
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 2

 now I speak to some purpose—that I know you are
 a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that
 you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge,
 insomuch I say I know you are. Neither do I labor
60 for a greater esteem than may in some little measure
 draw a belief from you to do yourself good, and
 not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I
 can do strange things. I have, since I was three year
 old, conversed with a magician, most profound in
65 his art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind
 so near the heart as your gesture cries it out,
 when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry
 her. I know into what straits of fortune she is
 driven, and it is not impossible to me, if it appear
70 not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes
 tomorrow, human as she is, and without any
 danger.
ORLANDO Speak’st thou in sober meanings?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede By my life I do, which I
75 tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore
 put you in your best array, bid your friends; for
 if you will be married tomorrow, you shall, and to
 Rosalind, if you will.

Enter Silvius and Phoebe.

 Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of
80 hers.
PHOEBE, to Rosalind 
 Youth, you have done me much ungentleness
 To show the letter that I writ to you.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 I care not if I have. It is my study
 To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.
85 You are there followed by a faithful shepherd.
 Look upon him, love him; he worships you.

183
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 2

PHOEBE, to Silvius 
 Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love.
SILVIUS 
 It is to be all made of sighs and tears,
 And so am I for Phoebe.
PHOEBE 90And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede And I for no woman.
SILVIUS 
 It is to be all made of faith and service,
 And so am I for Phoebe.
PHOEBE 95And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede And I for no woman.
SILVIUS 
 It is to be all made of fantasy,
 All made of passion and all made of wishes,
100 All adoration, duty, and observance,
 All humbleness, all patience and impatience,
 All purity, all trial, all observance,
 And so am I for Phoebe.
PHOEBE And so am I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO 105And so am I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede And so am I for no
 woman.
PHOEBE 
 If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
SILVIUS 
 If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ORLANDO 
110 If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Why do you speak too,
 “Why blame you me to love you?”
ORLANDO To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede Pray you, no more of this.

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ACT 5. SC. 3

115 ’Tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the
 moon. (To Silvius.) I will help you if I can. (To
 Phoebe.) 
I would love you if I could.—Tomorrow
 meet me all together. (To Phoebe.) I will marry
 you if ever I marry woman, and I’ll be married
120 tomorrow. (To Orlando.) I will satisfy you if ever I
 satisfy man, and you shall be married tomorrow.
 (To Silvius.) I will content you, if what pleases you
 contents you, and you shall be married tomorrow.
 (To Orlando.) As you love Rosalind, meet. (To
 Silvius.) 
125As you love Phoebe, meet.—And as I love
 no woman, I’ll meet. So fare you well. I have left
 you commands.
SILVIUS I’ll not fail, if I live.
PHOEBE Nor I.
ORLANDO 130Nor I.
They exit.


Scene 3
Enter Touchstone and Audrey.

TOUCHSTONE Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow
 will we be married.
AUDREY I do desire it with all my heart, and I hope it is
 no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the
5 world.

Enter two Pages.

 Here come two of the banished duke’s pages.
FIRST PAGE Well met, honest gentleman.
TOUCHSTONE By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and
 a song.
SECOND PAGE 10We are for you. Sit i’ th’ middle.
They sit.
FIRST PAGE Shall we clap into ’t roundly, without

187
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 3

 hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which
 are the only prologues to a bad voice?
SECOND PAGE I’ faith, i’ faith, and both in a tune like
15 two gypsies on a horse.

Song.


PAGES sing 
 It was a lover and his lass,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no,
 That o’er the green cornfield did pass
  In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
20 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
 Sweet lovers love the spring.

 Between the acres of the rye,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no,
 These pretty country folks would lie
25  In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
 Sweet lovers love the spring.

 This carol they began that hour,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no,
30 How that a life was but a flower
  In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
 Sweet lovers love the spring.

 And therefore take the present time,
35  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no,
 For love is crownèd with the prime,
  In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
 Sweet lovers love the spring.


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ACT 5. SC. 4

TOUCHSTONE 40Truly, young gentlemen, though there
 was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was
 very untunable.
FIRST PAGE You are deceived, sir. We kept time. We lost
 not our time.
TOUCHSTONE 45By my troth, yes. I count it but time lost
 to hear such a foolish song. God be wi’ you, and
 God mend your voices.—Come, Audrey.
They rise and exit.


Scene 4
Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver,
and Celia as Aliena.


DUKE SENIOR 
 Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
 Can do all this that he hath promisèd?
ORLANDO 
 I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not,
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.

Enter Rosalind as Ganymede, Silvius, and Phoebe.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
5 Patience once more whiles our compact is urged.
 To Duke. You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
 You will bestow her on Orlando here?
DUKE SENIOR 
 That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, to Orlando 
 And you say you will have her when I bring her?
ORLANDO 
10 That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, to Phoebe 
 You say you’ll marry me if I be willing?

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ACT 5. SC. 4

PHOEBE 
 That will I, should I die the hour after.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 But if you do refuse to marry me,
 You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?
PHOEBE 15So is the bargain.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, to Silvius 
 You say that you’ll have Phoebe if she will?
SILVIUS 
 Though to have her and death were both one thing.
ROSALIND, as Ganymede 
 I have promised to make all this matter even.
 Keep you your word, O duke, to give your
20 daughter,—
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter.—
 Keep you your word, Phoebe, that you’ll marry me,
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd.—
 Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her
25 If she refuse me. And from hence I go
 To make these doubts all even.
Rosalind and Celia exit.
DUKE SENIOR 
 I do remember in this shepherd boy
 Some lively touches of my daughter’s favor.
ORLANDO 
 My lord, the first time that I ever saw him
30 Methought he was a brother to your daughter.
 But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born
 And hath been tutored in the rudiments
 Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
 Whom he reports to be a great magician
35 Obscurèd in the circle of this forest.

Enter Touchstone and Audrey.

JAQUES There is sure another flood toward, and these
 couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of

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ACT 5. SC. 4

 very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called
 fools.
TOUCHSTONE 40Salutation and greeting to you all.
JAQUES, to Duke Good my lord, bid him welcome.
 This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so
 often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he
 swears.
TOUCHSTONE 45If any man doubt that, let him put me to
 my purgation. I have trod a measure. I have flattered
 a lady. I have been politic with my friend,
 smooth with mine enemy. I have undone three
 tailors. I have had four quarrels, and like to have
50 fought one.
JAQUES And how was that ta’en up?
TOUCHSTONE Faith, we met and found the quarrel was
 upon the seventh cause.
JAQUES How “seventh cause”?—Good my lord, like
55 this fellow.
DUKE SENIOR I like him very well.
TOUCHSTONE God ’ild you, sir. I desire you of the like. I
 press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country
 copulatives, to swear and to forswear, according as
60 marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir,
 an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own. A poor
 humor of mine, sir, to take that that no man else
 will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor
 house, as your pearl in your foul oyster.
DUKE SENIOR 65By my faith, he is very swift and
 sententious.
TOUCHSTONE According to the fool’s bolt, sir, and such
 dulcet diseases.
JAQUES But for the seventh cause. How did you find the
70 quarrel on the seventh cause?
TOUCHSTONE Upon a lie seven times removed.—Bear
 your body more seeming, Audrey.—As thus, sir: I
 did dislike the cut of a certain courtier’s beard. He

195
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 4

 sent me word if I said his beard was not cut well, he
75 was in the mind it was. This is called “the retort
 courteous.” If I sent him word again it was not well
 cut, he would send me word he cut it to please
 himself. This is called “the quip modest.” If again it
 was not well cut, he disabled my judgment. This is
80 called “the reply churlish.” If again it was not well
 cut, he would answer I spake not true. This is called
 “the reproof valiant.” If again it was not well cut, he
 would say I lie. This is called “the countercheck
 quarrelsome,” and so to “the lie circumstantial,”
85 and “the lie direct.”
JAQUES And how oft did you say his beard was not well
 cut?
TOUCHSTONE I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial,
 nor he durst not give me the lie direct, and
90 so we measured swords and parted.
JAQUES Can you nominate in order now the degrees of
 the lie?
TOUCHSTONE O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as
 you have books for good manners. I will name you
95 the degrees: the first, “the retort courteous”; the
 second, “the quip modest”; the third, “the reply
 churlish”; the fourth, “the reproof valiant”; the
 fifth, “the countercheck quarrelsome”; the sixth,
 “the lie with circumstance”; the seventh, “the lie
100 direct.” All these you may avoid but the lie direct,
 and you may avoid that too with an “if.” I knew
 when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but
 when the parties were met themselves, one of them
 thought but of an “if,” as: “If you said so, then I said
105 so.” And they shook hands and swore brothers.
 Your “if” is the only peacemaker: much virtue in
 “if.”
JAQUES, to Duke Is not this a rare fellow, my lord?
 He’s as good at anything and yet a fool.

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As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 4

DUKE SENIOR 110He uses his folly like a stalking-horse,
 and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia. Still music.

HYMEN 
 Then is there mirth in heaven
 When earthly things made even
  Atone together.
115 Good duke, receive thy daughter.
 Hymen from heaven brought her,
  Yea, brought her hither,
 That thou mightst join her hand with his,
 Whose heart within his bosom is.

ROSALIND, to Duke 
120 To you I give myself, for I am yours.
 To Orlando. To you I give myself, for I am yours.
DUKE SENIOR 
 If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
ORLANDO 
 If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
PHOEBE 
 If sight and shape be true,
125 Why then, my love adieu.
ROSALIND, to Duke 
 I’ll have no father, if you be not he.
 To Orlando. I’ll have no husband, if you be not he,
 To Phoebe. Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not
 she.
HYMEN 
130 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,
135  If truth holds true contents.

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ACT 5. SC. 4

To Rosalind and Orlando.
 You and you no cross shall part.
To Celia and Oliver.
 You and you are heart in heart.
To Phoebe.
 You to his love must accord
 Or have a woman to your lord.
To Audrey and Touchstone.
140 You and you are sure together
 As the winter to foul weather.
To All.
 Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,
 Feed yourselves with questioning,
 That reason wonder may diminish
145 How thus we met, and these things finish.


Song.


  Wedding is great Juno’s crown,
  O blessèd bond of board and bed.
 ’Tis Hymen peoples every town.
  High wedlock then be honorèd.
150 Honor, high honor, and renown
 To Hymen, god of every town.


DUKE SENIOR, to Celia 
 O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me,
 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.
PHOEBE, to Silvius 
 I will not eat my word. Now thou art mine,
155 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

Enter Second Brother, Jaques de Boys.

SECOND BROTHER 
 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.

201
As You Like It
ACT 5. SC. 4

 Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
160 Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
 Addressed 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,
165 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 banished brother,
 And all their lands restored to them again
170 That were with him exiled. This to be true
 I do engage my life.
DUKE SENIOR  Welcome, young man.
 Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ wedding:
 To one his lands withheld, and to the other
175 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 endured shrewd days and nights with us
180 Shall share the good of our returnèd fortune
 According to the measure of their states.
 Meantime, forget this new-fall’n dignity,
 And fall into our rustic revelry.—
 Play, music.—And you brides and bridegrooms all,
185 With measure heaped in joy to th’ measures fall.
JAQUES, to Second Brother 
 Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,
 The Duke hath put on a religious life
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court.
SECOND BROTHER He hath.
JAQUES 
190 To him will I. Out of these convertites
 There is much matter to be heard and learned.

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ACT 5. SC. 4

 To Duke. 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
195 merit.
 To Oliver. You to your land, and love, and great
 allies.
 To Silvius. You to a long and well-deservèd bed.
 To Touchstone. And you to wrangling, for thy
200 loving voyage
 Is but for two months victualled.—So to your
 pleasures.
 I am for other than for dancing measures.
DUKE SENIOR Stay, Jaques, stay.
JAQUES 
205 To see no pastime, I. What you would have
 I’ll stay to know at your abandoned cave.He exits.
DUKE SENIOR 
 Proceed, proceed. We’ll begin these rites,
 As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights.
Dance. All but Rosalind exit.



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As You Like It
EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE.

ROSALIND 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
5 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 furnished like a
10 beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My
 way is to conjure you, and I’ll begin with the
 women. I charge you, O women, for the love you
 bear to men, to like as much of this play as please
 you. And I charge you, O men, for the love you bear
15 to women—as I perceive by your simpering, none
 of you hates them—that between you and the
 women the play may please. If I were a woman, I
 would kiss as many of you as had beards that
 pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths
20 that I defied not. And I am sure as many as have
 good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths will for
 my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell.
She exits.