As You Like It

ORDER	STAGE	ACT	SCENE	CHARACTER	LINE
1	(stage directions)	1	1		Enter ORLANDO and ADAM
2		1	1	ORLANDO	As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my 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 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 hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his 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 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 longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
3	(stage directions)	1	1		[Enter OLIVER]
4		1	1	ADAM	Yonder comes my master, your brother.
5		1	1	ORLANDO	Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.
6	(stage directions)	1	1		[ADAM retires]
7		1	1	OLIVER	Now, sir! what make you here?
8		1	1	ORLANDO	Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing.
9		1	1	OLIVER	What mar you then, sir?
10		1	1	ORLANDO	Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.
11		1	1	OLIVER	Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile.
12		1	1	ORLANDO	Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury?
13		1	1	OLIVER	Know you where you are, sir?
14		1	1	ORLANDO	O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.
15		1	1	OLIVER	Know you before whom, sir?
16		1	1	ORLANDO	Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and in the gentle 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 confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.
17		1	1	OLIVER	What, boy! [Strikes him]
18		1	1	ORLANDO	Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
19		1	1	OLIVER	Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
20		1	1	ORLANDO	I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir 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 hand from thy throat till this other had pull'd out thy tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself.
21		1	1	ADAM	[Coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.
22		1	1	OLIVER	Let me go, I say.
23		1	1	ORLANDO	I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in 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.
24		1	1	OLIVER	And what wilt thou do? Beg, when that is 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.
25		1	1	ORLANDO	I no further offend you than becomes me for my good.
26		1	1	OLIVER	Get you with him, you old dog.
27		1	1	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. Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM
28		1	1	OLIVER	Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
29	(stage directions)	1	1		Enter DENNIS
30		1	1	DENNIS	Calls your worship?
31		1	1	OLIVER	Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?
32		1	1	DENNIS	So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.
33		1	1	OLIVER	Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
34	(stage directions)	1	1		Enter CHARLES
35		1	1	CHARLES	Good morrow to your worship.
36		1	1	OLIVER	Good Monsieur Charles! What's the new news at the new court?
37		1	1	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 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.
38		1	1	OLIVER	Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished with her father?
39		1	1	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 less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.
40		1	1	OLIVER	Where will the old Duke live?
41		1	1	CHARLES	They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they 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.
42		1	1	OLIVER	What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?
43		1	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 disguis'd against me to try a fall. To-morrow, 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 honour, if he come in; 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 thing of his own search and altogether against my will.
44		1	1	OLIVER	Charles, 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 laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is 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. 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 practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by 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 look pale and wonder.
45		1	1	CHARLES	I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow 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! Exit
46		1	1	OLIVER	Farewell, good Charles. 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 school'd and yet learned; full of noble device; of all 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 misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. Exit
47	(stage directions)	1	2		Enter ROSALIND and CELIA
48		1	2	CELIA	I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
49		1	2	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 father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
50		1	2	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, 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 temper'd as mine is to thee.
51		1	2	ROSALIND	Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.
52		1	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 affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
53		1	2	ROSALIND	From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?
54		1	2	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 honour come off again.
55		1	2	ROSALIND	What shall be our sport, then?
56		1	2	CELIA	Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
57		1	2	ROSALIND	I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
58		1	2	CELIA	'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly.
59		1	2	ROSALIND	Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
60	(stage directions)	1	2		Enter TOUCHSTONE
61		1	2	CELIA	No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?
62		1	2	ROSALIND	Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit.
63		1	2	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 of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, wit! Whither wander you?
64		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Mistress, you must come away to your father.
65		1	2	CELIA	Were you made the messenger?
66		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.
67		1	2	ROSALIND	Where learned you that oath, fool?
68		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour 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.
69		1	2	CELIA	How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?
70		1	2	ROSALIND	Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
71		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
72		1	2	CELIA	By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
73		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn; no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or that mustard.
74		1	2	CELIA	Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st?
75		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
76		1	2	CELIA	My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough, speak no more of him; you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.
77		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
78		1	2	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 comes Monsieur Le Beau.
79	(stage directions)	1	2		Enter LE BEAU
80		1	2	ROSALIND	With his mouth full of news.
81		1	2	CELIA	Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
82		1	2	ROSALIND	Then shall we be news-cramm'd.
83		1	2	CELIA	All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news?
84		1	2	LE BEAU	Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport.
85		1	2	CELIA	Sport! of what colour?
86		1	2	LE BEAU	What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?
87		1	2	ROSALIND	As wit and fortune will.
88		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Or as the Destinies decrees.
89		1	2	CELIA	Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
90		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Nay, if I keep not my rank-
91		1	2	ROSALIND	Thou losest thy old smell.
92		1	2	LE BEAU	You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
93		1	2	ROSALIND	Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
94		1	2	LE BEAU	I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please 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.
95		1	2	CELIA	Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
96		1	2	LE BEAU	There comes an old man and his three sons-
97		1	2	CELIA	I could match this beginning with an old tale.
98		1	2	LE BEAU	Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
99		1	2	ROSALIND	With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by these presents'-
100		1	2	LE BEAU	The 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 serv'd the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping.
101		1	2	ROSALIND	Alas!
102		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?
103		1	2	LE BEAU	Why, this that I speak of.
104		1	2	TOUCHSTONE	Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.
105		1	2	CELIA	Or I, I promise thee.
106		1	2	ROSALIND	But 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?
107		1	2	LE BEAU	You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.
108		1	2	CELIA	Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it.
109	(stage directions)	1	2		Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, ORLANDO,
110	(stage directions)	1	2		CHARLES, and ATTENDANTS
111		1	2	FREDERICK	Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
112		1	2	ROSALIND	Is yonder the man?
113		1	2	LE BEAU	Even he, madam.
114		1	2	CELIA	Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully.
115		1	2	FREDERICK	How now, daughter and cousin! Are you crept hither to see the wrestling?
116		1	2	ROSALIND	Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave.
117		1	2	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 you can move him.
118		1	2	CELIA	Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
119		1	2	FREDERICK	Do so; I'll not be by. [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart]
120		1	2	LE BEAU	Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.
121		1	2	ORLANDO	I attend them with all respect and duty.
122		1	2	ROSALIND	Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler?
123		1	2	ORLANDO	No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.
124		1	2	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 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.
125		1	2	ROSALIND	Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward.
126		1	2	ORLANDO	I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.
127		1	2	ROSALIND	The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.
128		1	2	CELIA	And mine to eke out hers.
129		1	2	ROSALIND	Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you!
130		1	2	CELIA	Your heart's desires be with you!
131		1	2	CHARLES	Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?
132		1	2	ORLANDO	Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
133		1	2	FREDERICK	You shall try but one fall.
134		1	2	CHARLES	No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.
135		1	2	ORLANDO	You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me before; but come your ways.
136		1	2	ROSALIND	Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man!
137		1	2	CELIA	I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [They wrestle]
138		1	2	ROSALIND	O excellent young man!
139		1	2	CELIA	If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.
140	(stage directions)	1	2		[CHARLES is thrown. Shout]
141		1	2	FREDERICK	No more, no more.
142		1	2	ORLANDO	Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd.
143		1	2	FREDERICK	How dost thou, Charles?
144		1	2	LE BEAU	He cannot speak, my lord.
145		1	2	FREDERICK	Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?
146		1	2	ORLANDO	Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
147		1	2	FREDERICK	I would thou hadst been son to some man else. The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy. Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; I would thou hadst told me of another father.
148	(stage directions)	1	2		Exeunt DUKE, train, and LE BEAU
149		1	2	CELIA	Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
150		1	2	ORLANDO	I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son- and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick.
151		1	2	ROSALIND	My father lov'd 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 Ere he should thus have ventur'd.
152		1	2	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 deserv'd; If you do keep your promises in love But justly as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy.
153		1	2	ROSALIND	Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck] Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz?
154		1	2	CELIA	Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
155		1	2	ORLANDO	Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
156		1	2	ROSALIND	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 More than your enemies.
157		1	2	CELIA	Will you go, coz?
158		1	2	ROSALIND	Have with you. Fare you well.
159	(stage directions)	1	2		Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA
160		1	2	ORLANDO	What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
161	(stage directions)	1	2		Re-enter LE BEAU
162		1	2	LE BEAU	Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd High commendation, true applause, and love, Yet such is now the Duke's condition That he misconstrues all that you have done. The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed, More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
163		1	2	ORLANDO	I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this: Which of the two was daughter of the Duke That here was at the wrestling?
164		1	2	LE BEAU	Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter; The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, And here detain'd 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, 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. Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
165		1	2	ORLANDO	I rest much bounden to you; fare you well. [Exit LE BEAU] Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother. But heavenly Rosalind! Exit
166	(stage directions)	1	3		Enter CELIA and ROSALIND
167		1	3	CELIA	Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word?
168		1	3	ROSALIND	Not one to throw at a dog.
169		1	3	CELIA	No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.
170		1	3	ROSALIND	Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any.
171		1	3	CELIA	But is all this for your father?
172		1	3	ROSALIND	No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
173		1	3	CELIA	They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.
174		1	3	ROSALIND	I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
175		1	3	CELIA	Hem them away.
176		1	3	ROSALIND	I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him.
177		1	3	CELIA	Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
178		1	3	ROSALIND	O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.
179		1	3	CELIA	O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in 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?
180		1	3	ROSALIND	The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly.
181		1	3	CELIA	Doth 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.
182		1	3	ROSALIND	No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
183		1	3	CELIA	Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?
184	(stage directions)	1	3		Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS
185		1	3	ROSALIND	Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
186		1	3	CELIA	With his eyes full of anger.
187		1	3	FREDERICK	Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court.
188		1	3	ROSALIND	Me, uncle?
189		1	3	FREDERICK	You, cousin. Within these ten days if that thou beest found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it.
190		1	3	ROSALIND	I do beseech your Grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. If with myself I hold intelligence, 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.
191		1	3	FREDERICK	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.
192		1	3	ROSALIND	Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
193		1	3	FREDERICK	Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.
194		1	3	ROSALIND	So was I when your Highness took his dukedom; So was I when your Highness banish'd him. Treason is not inherited, my lord; 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.
195		1	3	CELIA	Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
196		1	3	FREDERICK	Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang'd along.
197		1	3	CELIA	I did not then entreat to have her stay; It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why so am I: we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.
198		1	3	FREDERICK	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 virtuous When she is gone. Then open not thy lips. Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
199		1	3	CELIA	Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege; I cannot live out of her company.
200		1	3	FREDERICK	You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself. If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die.
201	(stage directions)	1	3		Exeunt DUKE and LORDS
202		1	3	CELIA	O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.
203		1	3	ROSALIND	I have more cause.
204		1	3	CELIA	Thou hast not, cousin. Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter?
205		1	3	ROSALIND	That he hath not.
206		1	3	CELIA	No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. Shall we be sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl? 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 charge upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
207		1	3	ROSALIND	Why, whither shall we go?
208		1	3	CELIA	To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
209		1	3	ROSALIND	Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
210		1	3	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, And never stir assailants.
211		1	3	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 curtle-axe upon my thigh, 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.
212		1	3	CELIA	What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
213		1	3	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 call'd?
214		1	3	CELIA	Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena.
215		1	3	ROSALIND	But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
216		1	3	CELIA	He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; 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 To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt
217	(stage directions)	2	1		Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS, like foresters
218		2	1	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? 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 'This is no flattery; these are counsellors 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; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything. I would not change it.
219		2	1	AMIENS	Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
220		2	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 forked heads Have their round haunches gor'd.
221		2	1	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 banish'd you. To-day 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 sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears.
222		2	1	DUKE SENIOR	But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle?
223		2	1	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 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 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 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, To fright the animals, and to kill them up In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
224		2	1	DUKE SENIOR	And did you leave him in this contemplation?
225		2	1	SECOND LORD	We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer.
226		2	1	DUKE SENIOR	Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter.
227		2	1	FIRST LORD	I'll bring you to him straight. Exeunt
228	(stage directions)	2	2		Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS
229		2	2	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.
230		2	2	FIRST LORD	I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her abed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.
231		2	2	SECOND LORD	My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 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; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company.
232		2	2	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; And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways. Exeunt
233	(stage directions)	2	3		Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting
234		2	3	ORLANDO	Who's there?
235		2	3	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? 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. 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. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it!
236		2	3	ORLANDO	Why, what's the matter?
237		2	3	ADAM	O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives. 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, 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.
238		2	3	ORLANDO	Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
239		2	3	ADAM	No matter whither, so you come not here.
240		2	3	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? 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.
241		2	3	ADAM	But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd 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, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 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 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; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
242		2	3	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! 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 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.
243		2	3	ADAM	Master, go on; and I will follow thee To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. From seventeen years till now almost four-score Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, 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. Exeunt
244	(stage directions)	2	4		Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, CELIA for ALIENA, and CLOWN alias
245	(stage directions)	2	4		TOUCHSTONE
246		2	4	ROSALIND	O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
247		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
248		2	4	ROSALIND	I could find in my heart to disgrace my 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.
249		2	4	CELIA	I pray you bear with me; I cannot go no further.
250		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	For 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.
251		2	4	ROSALIND	Well, this is the Forest of Arden.
252		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.
253	(stage directions)	2	4		Enter CORIN and SILVIUS
254		2	4	ROSALIND	Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here, a young man and an old in solemn talk.
255		2	4	CORIN	That is the way to make her scorn you still.
256		2	4	SILVIUS	O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
257		2	4	CORIN	I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.
258		2	4	SILVIUS	No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sigh'd 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 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
259		2	4	CORIN	Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
260		2	4	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, Thou hast not lov'd; Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not lov'd; Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lov'd. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! Exit Silvius
261		2	4	ROSALIND	Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own.
262		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	And 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 chapt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of 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 in love mortal in folly.
263		2	4	ROSALIND	Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of.
264		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it.
265		2	4	ROSALIND	Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion.
266		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
267		2	4	CELIA	I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food; I faint almost to death.
268		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	Holla, you clown!
269		2	4	ROSALIND	Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
270		2	4	CORIN	Who calls?
271		2	4	TOUCHSTONE	Your betters, sir.
272		2	4	CORIN	Else are they very wretched.
273		2	4	ROSALIND	Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
274		2	4	CORIN	And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
275		2	4	ROSALIND	I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed. Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd, And faints for succour.
276		2	4	CORIN	Fair sir, I pity her, And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, 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 By doing deeds of hospitality. Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
277		2	4	ROSALIND	What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
278		2	4	CORIN	That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing.
279		2	4	ROSALIND	I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
280		2	4	CELIA	And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it.
281		2	4	CORIN	Assuredly the thing is to be sold. 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. Exeunt
282	(stage directions)	2	5		Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS
283		2	5	AMIENS	Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
284		2	5	JAQUES	More, more, I prithee, more.
285		2	5	AMIENS	It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
286		2	5	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.
287		2	5	AMIENS	My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you.
288		2	5	JAQUES	I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo. Call you 'em stanzos?
289		2	5	AMIENS	What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
290		2	5	JAQUES	Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?
291		2	5	AMIENS	More at your request than to please myself.
292		2	5	JAQUES	Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.
293		2	5	AMIENS	Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you.
294		2	5	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 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 pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
295		2	5	JAQUES	I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.
296		2	5	AMIENS	And I'll sing it.
297		2	5	JAQUES	Thus it goes: If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me.
298		2	5	AMIENS	What's that 'ducdame'?
299		2	5	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.
300		2	5	AMIENS	And I'll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepar'd.
301	(stage directions)	2	5		Exeunt severally
302	(stage directions)	2	6		Enter ORLANDO and ADAM
303		2	6	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.
304		2	6	ORLANDO	Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in 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 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 a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest 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! Exeunt
305	(stage directions)	2	7		A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws
306		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can nowhere find him like a man.
307		2	7	FIRST LORD	My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
308		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	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.
309	(stage directions)	2	7		Enter JAQUES
310		2	7	FIRST LORD	He saves my labour by his own approach.
311		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily!
312		2	7	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, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, 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 fortune.' And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock; Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags; '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 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! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
313		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	What fool is this?
314		2	7	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, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat.
315		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Thou shalt have one.
316		2	7	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 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The why is plain as way to parish church: 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 anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. 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.
317		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
318		2	7	JAQUES	What, for a counter, would I do but good?
319		2	7	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' embossed sores and headed evils That thou with license of free foot hast caught Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
320		2	7	JAQUES	Why, who cries out on pride That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the wearer's 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, When such a one as she such is her neighbour? Or what is he of basest function That says his bravery is not on my cost, Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech? There then! how then? what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
321	(stage directions)	2	7		Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn
322		2	7	ORLANDO	Forbear, and eat no more.
323		2	7	JAQUES	Why, I have eat none yet.
324		2	7	ORLANDO	Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.
325		2	7	JAQUES	Of what kind should this cock come of?
326		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress? Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
327		2	7	ORLANDO	You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point 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 answered.
328		2	7	JAQUES	An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die.
329		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
330		2	7	ORLANDO	I almost die for food, and let me have it.
331		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
332		2	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 That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd 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.
333		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	True is it that we have seen better days, And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church, And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red; And therefore sit you down in gentleness, And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be minist'red.
334		2	7	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 Who after me hath many a weary step Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit.
335		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Go find him out. And we will nothing waste till you return.
336		2	7	ORLANDO	I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! Exit
337		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.
338		2	7	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, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 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 honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, 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 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 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 every thing.
339	(stage directions)	2	7		Re-enter ORLANDO with ADAM
340		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed.
341		2	7	ORLANDO	I thank you most for him.
342		2	7	ADAM	So had you need; I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
343		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you As yet to question you about your fortunes. Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. SONG Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; 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. Then, heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot; Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend rememb'red not. Heigh-ho! sing, &c.
344		2	7	DUKE SENIOR	If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke That lov'd 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. Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand. Exeunt
345	(stage directions)	3	1		Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, and LORDS
346		3	1	FREDERICK	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: 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 Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee.
347		3	1	OLIVER	O that your Highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in my life.
348		3	1	FREDERICK	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. Exeunt
349	(stage directions)	3	2		Enter ORLANDO, with a paper
350		3	2	ORLANDO	Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; And thou, thrice-crowned Queen of Night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. 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 witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Exit
351	(stage directions)	3	2		Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE
352		3	2	CORIN	And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?
353		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. 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 humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
354		3	2	CORIN	No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants 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 complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.
355		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd?
356		3	2	CORIN	No, truly.
357		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Then thou art damn'd.
358		3	2	CORIN	Nay, I hope.
359		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
360		3	2	CORIN	For not being at court? Your reason.
361		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Why, 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.
362		3	2	CORIN	Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour 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 would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.
363		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Instance, briefly; come, instance.
364		3	2	CORIN	Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy.
365		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? And is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come.
366		3	2	CORIN	Besides, our hands are hard.
367		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance; come.
368		3	2	CORIN	And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfum'd with civet.
369		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
370		3	2	CORIN	You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.
371		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
372		3	2	CORIN	Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; 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.
373		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	That is another simple sin in you: to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape.
374		3	2	CORIN	Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.
375	(stage directions)	3	2		Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper
376		3	2	ROSALIND	'From the east to western Inde, No jewel is like Rosalinde. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest lin'd Are but black to Rosalinde. Let no face be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalinde.'
377		3	2	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.
378		3	2	ROSALIND	Out, fool!
379		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	For a taste: If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalinde. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalinde. Winter garments must be lin'd, So must slender Rosalinde. They that reap must sheaf and bind, Then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will find Must find love's prick and Rosalinde. This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect yourself with them?
380		3	2	ROSALIND	Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.
381		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
382		3	2	ROSALIND	I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar. Then it will be 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.
383		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter CELIA, with a writing
384		3	2	ROSALIND	Peace! Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
385		3	2	CELIA	'Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No; Tongues I'll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. Some, how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage, That the streching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; 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, Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show. Therefore heaven Nature charg'd That one body should be fill'd With all graces wide-enlarg'd. Nature presently distill'd Helen's cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part, Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalinde of many parts By heavenly synod was devis'd, Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches dearest priz'd. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.'
386		3	2	ROSALIND	O most gentle Jupiter! What tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have patience, good people.'
387		3	2	CELIA	How now! Back, friends; shepherd, go off a little; go with him, sirrah.
388		3	2	TOUCHSTONE	Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
389	(stage directions)	3	2		Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE
390		3	2	CELIA	Didst thou hear these verses?
391		3	2	ROSALIND	O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.
392		3	2	CELIA	That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
393		3	2	ROSALIND	Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
394		3	2	CELIA	But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carved upon these trees?
395		3	2	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. I was never so berhym'd since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
396		3	2	CELIA	Trow you who hath done this?
397		3	2	ROSALIND	Is it a man?
398		3	2	CELIA	And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour?
399		3	2	ROSALIND	I prithee, who?
400		3	2	CELIA	O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter.
401		3	2	ROSALIND	Nay, but who is it?
402		3	2	CELIA	Is it possible?
403		3	2	ROSALIND	Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
404		3	2	CELIA	O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!
405		3	2	ROSALIND	Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a 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 could'st stammer, that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd 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.
406		3	2	CELIA	So you may put a man in your belly.
407		3	2	ROSALIND	Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat or his chin worth a beard?
408		3	2	CELIA	Nay, he hath but a little beard.
409		3	2	ROSALIND	Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
410		3	2	CELIA	It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant.
411		3	2	ROSALIND	Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true maid.
412		3	2	CELIA	I' faith, coz, 'tis he.
413		3	2	ROSALIND	Orlando?
414		3	2	CELIA	Orlando.
415		3	2	ROSALIND	Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd 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.
416		3	2	CELIA	You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first; '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.
417		3	2	ROSALIND	But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?
418		3	2	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 dropp'd acorn.
419		3	2	ROSALIND	It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
420		3	2	CELIA	Give me audience, good madam.
421		3	2	ROSALIND	Proceed.
422		3	2	CELIA	There lay he, stretch'd along like a wounded knight.
423		3	2	ROSALIND	Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
424		3	2	CELIA	Cry 'Holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
425		3	2	ROSALIND	O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
426		3	2	CELIA	I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring'st me out of tune.
427		3	2	ROSALIND	Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
428		3	2	CELIA	You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?
429	(stage directions)	3	2		Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES
430		3	2	ROSALIND	'Tis he; slink by, and note him.
431		3	2	JAQUES	I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
432		3	2	ORLANDO	And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.
433		3	2	JAQUES	God buy you; let's meet as little as we can.
434		3	2	ORLANDO	I do desire we may be better strangers.
435		3	2	JAQUES	I pray you mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.
436		3	2	ORLANDO	I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
437		3	2	JAQUES	Rosalind is your love's name?
438		3	2	ORLANDO	Yes, just.
439		3	2	JAQUES	I do not like her name.
440		3	2	ORLANDO	There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christen'd.
441		3	2	JAQUES	What stature is she of?
442		3	2	ORLANDO	Just as high as my heart.
443		3	2	JAQUES	You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?
444		3	2	ORLANDO	Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.
445		3	2	JAQUES	You 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.
446		3	2	ORLANDO	I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.
447		3	2	JAQUES	The worst fault you have is to be in love.
448		3	2	ORLANDO	'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.
449		3	2	JAQUES	By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.
450		3	2	ORLANDO	He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.
451		3	2	JAQUES	There I shall see mine own figure.
452		3	2	ORLANDO	Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
453		3	2	JAQUES	I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good Signior Love.
454		3	2	ORLANDO	I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.
455	(stage directions)	3	2		Exit JAQUES
456		3	2	ROSALIND	[Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him.- Do you hear, forester?
457		3	2	ORLANDO	Very well; what would you?
458		3	2	ROSALIND	I pray you, what is't o'clock?
459		3	2	ORLANDO	You should ask me what time o' day; there's no clock in the forest.
460		3	2	ROSALIND	Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.
461		3	2	ORLANDO	And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been as proper?
462		3	2	ROSALIND	By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
463		3	2	ORLANDO	I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
464		3	2	ROSALIND	Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd; if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year.
465		3	2	ORLANDO	Who ambles Time withal?
466		3	2	ROSALIND	With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.
467		3	2	ORLANDO	Who doth he gallop withal?
468		3	2	ROSALIND	With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
469		3	2	ORLANDO	Who stays it still withal?
470		3	2	ROSALIND	With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.
471		3	2	ORLANDO	Where dwell you, pretty youth?
472		3	2	ROSALIND	With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
473		3	2	ORLANDO	Are you native of this place?
474		3	2	ROSALIND	As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled.
475		3	2	ORLANDO	Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.
476		3	2	ROSALIND	I have been told so of many; 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 touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
477		3	2	ORLANDO	Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women?
478		3	2	ROSALIND	There were none principal; they were all like one another as halfpence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it.
479		3	2	ORLANDO	I prithee recount some of them.
480		3	2	ROSALIND	No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest that abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.
481		3	2	ORLANDO	I am he that is so love-shak'd; I pray you tell me your remedy.
482		3	2	ROSALIND	There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
483		3	2	ORLANDO	What were his marks?
484		3	2	ROSALIND	A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue. Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.
485		3	2	ORLANDO	Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
486		3	2	ROSALIND	Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired?
487		3	2	ORLANDO	I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
488		3	2	ROSALIND	But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?
489		3	2	ORLANDO	Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
490		3	2	ROSALIND	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 not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
491		3	2	ORLANDO	Did you ever cure any so?
492		3	2	ROSALIND	Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me; at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, 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 colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't.
493		3	2	ORLANDO	I would not be cured, youth.
494		3	2	ROSALIND	I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me.
495		3	2	ORLANDO	Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.
496		3	2	ROSALIND	Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
497		3	2	ORLANDO	With all my heart, good youth.
498		3	2	ROSALIND	Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? Exeunt
499	(stage directions)	3	3		Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind
500		3	3	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?
501		3	3	AUDREY	Your features! Lord warrant us! What features?
502		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
503		3	3	JAQUES	[Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house!
504		3	3	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 would the gods had made thee poetical.
505		3	3	AUDREY	I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing?
506		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign.
507		3	3	AUDREY	Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?
508		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.
509		3	3	AUDREY	Would you not have me honest?
510		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
511		3	3	JAQUES	[Aside] A material fool!
512		3	3	AUDREY	Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.
513		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
514		3	3	AUDREY	I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
515		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us.
516		3	3	JAQUES	[Aside] I would fain see this meeting.
517		3	3	AUDREY	Well, the gods give us joy!
518		3	3	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. 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. 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 wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver. [Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT] Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?
519		3	3	MARTEXT	Is there none here to give the woman?
520		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	I will not take her on gift of any man.
521		3	3	MARTEXT	Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
522		3	3	JAQUES	[Discovering himself] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her.
523		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir? You are very well met. Goddild you for your last company. I am very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay; pray be cover'd.
524		3	3	JAQUES	Will you be married, motley?
525		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
526		3	3	JAQUES	And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp.
527		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	[Aside] I 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.
528		3	3	JAQUES	Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
529		3	3	TOUCHSTONE	Come, sweet Audrey; We must be married or we must live in bawdry. Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not- O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee. But- Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY
530		3	3	MARTEXT	'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. Exit
531	(stage directions)	3	4		Enter ROSALIND and CELIA
532		3	4	ROSALIND	Never talk to me; I will weep.
533		3	4	CELIA	Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man.
534		3	4	ROSALIND	But have I not cause to weep?
535		3	4	CELIA	As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.
536		3	4	ROSALIND	His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
537		3	4	CELIA	Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children.
538		3	4	ROSALIND	I' faith, his hair is of a good colour.
539		3	4	CELIA	An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour.
540		3	4	ROSALIND	And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.
541		3	4	CELIA	He 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.
542		3	4	ROSALIND	But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?
543		3	4	CELIA	Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
544		3	4	ROSALIND	Do you think so?
545		3	4	CELIA	Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut.
546		3	4	ROSALIND	Not true in love?
547		3	4	CELIA	Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in.
548		3	4	ROSALIND	You have heard him swear downright he was.
549		3	4	CELIA	'Was' is not 'is'; besides, the oath of a lover is 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.
550		3	4	ROSALIND	I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk we of fathers when there is such a man as Orlando?
551		3	4	CELIA	O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes here?
552	(stage directions)	3	4		Enter CORIN
553		3	4	CORIN	Mistress and master, you have oft enquired After the shepherd that complain'd of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress.
554		3	4	CELIA	Well, and what of him?
555		3	4	CORIN	If you will see a pageant truly play'd Between the pale complexion of true love And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, If you will mark it.
556		3	4	ROSALIND	O, come, let us remove! The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Exeunt
557	(stage directions)	3	5		Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE
558		3	5	SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe. Say that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?
559	(stage directions)	3	5		Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance
560		3	5	PHEBE	I would not be thy executioner; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye. 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee. Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it; lean upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; Nor, I am sure, there is not force in eyes That can do hurt.
561		3	5	SILVIUS	O dear Phebe, 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.
562		3	5	PHEBE	But till that time Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As till that time I shall not pity thee.
563		3	5	ROSALIND	[Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty- As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed- Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, I think she means to tangle my eyes too! No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; '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, 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-favour'd children. 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her. But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love; For I must tell you friendly in your ear: Sell when you can; 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.
564		3	5	PHEBE	Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
565		3	5	ROSALIND	He's fall'n in love with your foulness, 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. Why look you so upon me?
566		3	5	PHEBE	For no ill will I bear you.
567		3	5	ROSALIND	I pray you do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine; Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, '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 abus'd in sight as he. Come, to our flock. Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN
568		3	5	PHEBE	Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might: 'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?'
569		3	5	SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe.
570		3	5	PHEBE	Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?
571		3	5	SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe, pity me.
572		3	5	PHEBE	Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
573		3	5	SILVIUS	Wherever sorrow is, relief would be. If you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin'd.
574		3	5	PHEBE	Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly?
575		3	5	SILVIUS	I would have you.
576		3	5	PHEBE	Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was that I hated thee; And yet it is not that I bear thee love; But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too. But do not look for further recompense Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
577		3	5	SILVIUS	So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then A scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon.
578		3	5	PHEBE	Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?
579		3	5	SILVIUS	Not very well; but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of.
580		3	5	PHEBE	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. It is a pretty youth- not very pretty; But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him. He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall; His leg is but so-so; and yet 'tis well. There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him; but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him; For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black, And, now I am rememb'red, scorn'd at me. I marvel why I answer'd not again; But that's all one: omittance is no quittance. I'll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius?
581		3	5	SILVIUS	Phebe, with all my heart.
582		3	5	PHEBE	I'll write it straight; The matter's in my head and in my heart; I will be bitter with him and passing short. Go with me, Silvius. Exeunt
583	(stage directions)	4	1		Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES
584		4	1	JAQUES	I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.
585		4	1	ROSALIND	They say you are a melancholy fellow.
586		4	1	JAQUES	I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
587		4	1	ROSALIND	Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
588		4	1	JAQUES	Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
589		4	1	ROSALIND	Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
590		4	1	JAQUES	I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
591		4	1	ROSALIND	A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad. I fear you have sold 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.
592		4	1	JAQUES	Yes, I have gain'd my experience.
593	(stage directions)	4	1		Enter ORLANDO
594		4	1	ROSALIND	And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to travel for it too.
595		4	1	ORLANDO	Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!
596		4	1	JAQUES	Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse.
597		4	1	ROSALIND	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 that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES] 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.
598		4	1	ORLANDO	My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
599		4	1	ROSALIND	Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole.
600		4	1	ORLANDO	Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
601		4	1	ROSALIND	Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.
602		4	1	ORLANDO	Of a snail!
603		4	1	ROSALIND	Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him.
604		4	1	ORLANDO	What's that?
605		4	1	ROSALIND	Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife.
606		4	1	ORLANDO	Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.
607		4	1	ROSALIND	And I am your Rosalind.
608		4	1	CELIA	It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
609		4	1	ROSALIND	Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?
610		4	1	ORLANDO	I would kiss before I spoke.
611		4	1	ROSALIND	Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking- God warn us!- matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
612		4	1	ORLANDO	How if the kiss be denied?
613		4	1	ROSALIND	Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.
614		4	1	ORLANDO	Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
615		4	1	ROSALIND	Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
616		4	1	ORLANDO	What, of my suit?
617		4	1	ROSALIND	Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
618		4	1	ORLANDO	I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her.
619		4	1	ROSALIND	Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
620		4	1	ORLANDO	Then, in mine own person, I die.
621		4	1	ROSALIND	No, faith, die by attorney. 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 dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd 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 drown'd; 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.
622		4	1	ORLANDO	I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me.
623		4	1	ROSALIND	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.
624		4	1	ORLANDO	Then love me, Rosalind.
625		4	1	ROSALIND	Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all.
626		4	1	ORLANDO	And wilt thou have me?
627		4	1	ROSALIND	Ay, and twenty such.
628		4	1	ORLANDO	What sayest thou?
629		4	1	ROSALIND	Are you not good?
630		4	1	ORLANDO	I hope so.
631		4	1	ROSALIND	Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?
632		4	1	ORLANDO	Pray thee, marry us.
633		4	1	CELIA	I cannot say the words.
634		4	1	ROSALIND	You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'-
635		4	1	CELIA	Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
636		4	1	ORLANDO	I will.
637		4	1	ROSALIND	Ay, but when?
638		4	1	ORLANDO	Why, now; as fast as she can marry us.
639		4	1	ROSALIND	Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.'
640		4	1	ORLANDO	I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
641		4	1	ROSALIND	I might ask you for your 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.
642		4	1	ORLANDO	So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.
643		4	1	ROSALIND	Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have possess'd her.
644		4	1	ORLANDO	For ever and a day.
645		4	1	ROSALIND	Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are April when they 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 new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou are inclin'd to sleep.
646		4	1	ORLANDO	But will my Rosalind do so?
647		4	1	ROSALIND	By my life, she will do as I do.
648		4	1	ORLANDO	O, but she is wise.
649		4	1	ROSALIND	Or else she could not have 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 key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
650		4	1	ORLANDO	A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit, whither wilt?'
651		4	1	ROSALIND	Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.
652		4	1	ORLANDO	And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
653		4	1	ROSALIND	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 occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!
654		4	1	ORLANDO	For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
655		4	1	ROSALIND	Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours!
656		4	1	ORLANDO	I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again.
657		4	1	ROSALIND	Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would prove; my friends told 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?
658		4	1	ORLANDO	Ay, sweet Rosalind.
659		4	1	ROSALIND	By my troth, and in good 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 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.
660		4	1	ORLANDO	With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind; so, adieu.
661		4	1	ROSALIND	Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try. Adieu. Exit ORLANDO
662		4	1	CELIA	You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate. We must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.
663		4	1	ROSALIND	O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
664		4	1	CELIA	Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.
665		4	1	ROSALIND	No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one'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 shadow, and sigh till he come.
666		4	1	CELIA	And I'll sleep. Exeunt
667	(stage directions)	4	2		Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the habit of foresters
668		4	2	JAQUES	Which is he that killed the deer?
669		4	2	LORD	Sir, it was I.
670		4	2	JAQUES	Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?
671		4	2	LORD	Yes, sir.
672		4	2	JAQUES	Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG. What shall he have that kill'd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. [The rest shall hear this burden:] Then sing him home. Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; 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. Exeunt
673	(stage directions)	4	3		Enter ROSALIND and CELIA
674		4	3	ROSALIND	How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? And here much Orlando!
675		4	3	CELIA	I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth- to sleep. Look, who comes here.
676	(stage directions)	4	3		Enter SILVIUS
677		4	3	SILVIUS	My errand is to you, fair youth; My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this. I know not the contents; but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, I am but as a guiltless messenger.
678		4	3	ROSALIND	Patience herself would startle at this letter, 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; Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device.
679		4	3	SILVIUS	No, I protest, I know not the contents; Phebe did write it.
680		4	3	ROSALIND	Come, come, you are a fool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; 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.
681		4	3	SILVIUS	Sure, it is hers.
682		4	3	ROSALIND	Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style; 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 Ethiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
683		4	3	SILVIUS	So please you, for I never heard it yet; Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
684		4	3	ROSALIND	She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads] 'Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?' Can a woman rail thus?
685		4	3	SILVIUS	Call you this railing?
686		4	3	ROSALIND	'Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?' Did you ever hear such railing? '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, 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 the 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; Or else by him my love deny, And then I'll study how to die.'
687		4	3	SILVIUS	Call you this chiding?
688		4	3	CELIA	Alas, poor shepherd!
689		4	3	ROSALIND	Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! Not to be endur'd! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee tame snake, and say this to her- that if she love me, I 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.
690	(stage directions)	4	3		Exit SILVIUS
691	(stage directions)	4	3		[Enter OLIVER]
692		4	3	OLIVER	Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
693		4	3	CELIA	West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom. The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place. But at this hour the house doth keep itself; There's none within.
694		4	3	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, Of female favour, 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?
695		4	3	CELIA	It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
696		4	3	OLIVER	Orlando doth commend him to you both; And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
697		4	3	ROSALIND	I am. What must we understand by this?
698		4	3	OLIVER	Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where, This handkercher was stain'd.
699		4	3	CELIA	I pray you, tell it.
700		4	3	OLIVER	When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again 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 oak, whose boughs were moss'd with 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 wreath'd itself, Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush; under which bush's shade 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. This seen, Orlando did approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
701		4	3	CELIA	O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd amongst men.
702		4	3	OLIVER	And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural.
703		4	3	ROSALIND	But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
704		4	3	OLIVER	Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so; 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 awak'd.
705		4	3	CELIA	Are you his brother?
706		4	3	ROSALIND	Was't you he rescu'd?
707		4	3	CELIA	Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
708		4	3	OLIVER	'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
709		4	3	ROSALIND	But for the bloody napkin?
710		4	3	OLIVER	By and by. When from the first to last, betwixt us two, Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, 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, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away, Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound, 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, Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
711	(stage directions)	4	3		[ROSALIND swoons]
712		4	3	CELIA	Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
713		4	3	OLIVER	Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
714		4	3	CELIA	There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
715		4	3	OLIVER	Look, he recovers.
716		4	3	ROSALIND	I would I were at home.
717		4	3	CELIA	We'll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
718		4	3	OLIVER	Be of good cheer, youth. You a man! You lack a man's heart.
719		4	3	ROSALIND	I 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!
720		4	3	OLIVER	This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.
721		4	3	ROSALIND	Counterfeit, I assure you.
722		4	3	OLIVER	Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.
723		4	3	ROSALIND	So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right.
724		4	3	CELIA	Come, you look paler and paler; pray you draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.
725		4	3	OLIVER	That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
726		4	3	ROSALIND	I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? Exeunt
727	(stage directions)	5	1		Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY
728		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.
729		5	1	AUDREY	Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.
730		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.
731		5	1	AUDREY	Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world; here comes the man you mean.
732	(stage directions)	5	1		Enter WILLIAM
733		5	1	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.
734		5	1	WILLIAM	Good ev'n, Audrey.
735		5	1	AUDREY	God ye good ev'n, William.
736		5	1	WILLIAM	And good ev'n to you, sir.
737		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee be cover'd. How old are you, friend?
738		5	1	WILLIAM	Five and twenty, sir.
739		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	A ripe age. Is thy name William?
740		5	1	WILLIAM	William, sir.
741		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here?
742		5	1	WILLIAM	Ay, sir, I thank God.
743		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	'Thank God.' A good answer. Art rich?
744		5	1	WILLIAM	Faith, sir, so so.
745		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?
746		5	1	WILLIAM	Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
747		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	Why, thou say'st 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; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid?
748		5	1	WILLIAM	I do, sir.
749		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
750		5	1	WILLIAM	No, sir.
751		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	Then learn this of me: to have is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour'd out of 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.
752		5	1	WILLIAM	Which he, sir?
753		5	1	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 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 thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart.
754		5	1	AUDREY	Do, good William.
755		5	1	WILLIAM	God rest you merry, sir. Exit
756	(stage directions)	5	1		Enter CORIN
757		5	1	CORIN	Our master and mistress seeks you; come away, away.
758		5	1	TOUCHSTONE	Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. I attend, I attend.
759	(stage directions)	5	1		Exeunt
760	(stage directions)	5	2		Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER
761		5	2	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?
762		5	2	OLIVER	Neither 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 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.
763		5	2	ORLANDO	You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow. Thither will I invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.
764	(stage directions)	5	2		Enter ROSALIND
765		5	2	ROSALIND	God save you, brother.
766		5	2	OLIVER	And you, fair sister. Exit
767		5	2	ROSALIND	O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf!
768		5	2	ORLANDO	It is my arm.
769		5	2	ROSALIND	I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.
770		5	2	ORLANDO	Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
771		5	2	ROSALIND	Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he show'd me your handkercher?
772		5	2	ORLANDO	Ay, and greater wonders than that.
773		5	2	ROSALIND	O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never any thing 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 look'd; no sooner look'd but they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair of stairs to marriage, 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.
774		5	2	ORLANDO	They shall be married to-morrow; and I will 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 to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.
775		5	2	ROSALIND	Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?
776		5	2	ORLANDO	I can live no longer by thinking.
777		5	2	ROSALIND	I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know of me then- for 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 labour 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, convers'd with a magician, most profound in 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 not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any danger.
778		5	2	ORLANDO	Speak'st thou in sober meanings?
779		5	2	ROSALIND	By my life, I do; which I 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 to-morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will. [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.
780		5	2	PHEBE	Youth, you have done me much ungentleness To show the letter that I writ to you.
781		5	2	ROSALIND	I care not if I have. It is my study To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd; Look upon him, love him; he worships you.
782		5	2	PHEBE	Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
783		5	2	SILVIUS	It is to be all made of sighs and tears; And so am I for Phebe.
784		5	2	PHEBE	And I for Ganymede.
785		5	2	ORLANDO	And I for Rosalind.
786		5	2	ROSALIND	And I for no woman.
787		5	2	SILVIUS	It is to be all made of faith and service; And so am I for Phebe.
788		5	2	PHEBE	And I for Ganymede.
789		5	2	ORLANDO	And I for Rosalind.
790		5	2	ROSALIND	And I for no woman.
791		5	2	SILVIUS	It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, All purity, all trial, all obedience; And so am I for Phebe.
792		5	2	PHEBE	And so am I for Ganymede.
793		5	2	ORLANDO	And so am I for Rosalind.
794		5	2	ROSALIND	And so am I for no woman.
795		5	2	PHEBE	If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
796		5	2	SILVIUS	If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
797		5	2	ORLANDO	If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
798		5	2	ROSALIND	Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?'
799		5	2	ORLANDO	To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
800		5	2	ROSALIND	Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. [To SILVIUS] I will help you if I can. [To PHEBE] I would love you if I could.- To-morrow meet me all together. [ To PHEBE ] I will marry you if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To Silvius] I will content you if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] As you love Rosalind, meet. [To SILVIUS] As you love Phebe, meet;- and as I love no woman, I'll meet. So, fare you well; I have left you commands.
801		5	2	SILVIUS	I'll not fail, if I live.
802		5	2	PHEBE	Nor I.
803		5	2	ORLANDO	Nor I. Exeunt
804	(stage directions)	5	3		Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY
805		5	3	TOUCHSTONE	To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be married.
806		5	3	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 world. Here come two of the banish'd Duke's pages.
807	(stage directions)	5	3		Enter two PAGES
808		5	3	FIRST PAGE	Well met, honest gentleman.
809		5	3	TOUCHSTONE	By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song.
810		5	3	SECOND PAGE	We are for you; sit i' th' middle.
811		5	3	FIRST PAGE	Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice?
812		5	3	SECOND PAGE	I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse. SONG. It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 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 nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In the spring time, &c. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower, In the spring time, &c. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crowned with the prime, In the spring time, &c.
813		5	3	TOUCHSTONE	Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.
814		5	3	FIRST PAGE	You are deceiv'd, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time.
815		5	3	TOUCHSTONE	By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices. Come, Audrey. Exeunt
816	(stage directions)	5	4		Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA
817		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised?
818		5	4	ORLANDO	I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not: As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
819	(stage directions)	5	4		Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE
820		5	4	ROSALIND	Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd: You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here?
821		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
822		5	4	ROSALIND	And you say you will have her when I bring her?
823		5	4	ORLANDO	That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
824		5	4	ROSALIND	You say you'll marry me, if I be willing?
825		5	4	PHEBE	That will I, should I die the hour after.
826		5	4	ROSALIND	But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?
827		5	4	PHEBE	So is the bargain.
828		5	4	ROSALIND	You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will?
829		5	4	SILVIUS	Though to have her and death were both one thing.
830		5	4	ROSALIND	I have promis'd to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter; You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter; Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd; Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her If she refuse me; and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even.
831	(stage directions)	5	4		Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA
832		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	I do remember in this shepherd boy Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.
833		5	4	ORLANDO	My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter. But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle, Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest.
834	(stage directions)	5	4		Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY
835		5	4	JAQUES	There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts which in all tongues are call'd fools.
836		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	Salutation and greeting to you all!
837		5	4	JAQUES	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.
838		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flatt'red 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 fought one.
839		5	4	JAQUES	And how was that ta'en up?
840		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.
841		5	4	JAQUES	How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow.
842		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	I like him very well.
843		5	4	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 marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.
844		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.
845		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.
846		5	4	JAQUES	But, for the seventh cause: how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?
847		5	4	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 sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is call'd 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 call'd the Quip Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment. This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This is call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome. And so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.
848		5	4	JAQUES	And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?
849		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords and parted.
850		5	4	JAQUES	Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?
851		5	4	TOUCHSTONE	O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book, as you have books for good manners. I will name you 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 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 so.' And they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.
852		5	4	JAQUES	Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.
853		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	He 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. 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.
854		5	4	ROSALIND	[To DUKE] To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours.
855		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
856		5	4	ORLANDO	If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
857		5	4	PHEBE	If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adieu!
858		5	4	ROSALIND	I'll have no father, if you be not he; I'll have no husband, if you be not he; Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
859		5	4	HYMEN	Peace, ho! I bar confusion; 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events. Here's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part; You and you are heart in heart; You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord; You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather. Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish. SONG Wedding is great Juno's crown; O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured. Honour, high honour, and renown, To Hymen, god of every town!
860		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.
861		5	4	PHEBE	I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. Enter JAQUES DE BOYS
862		5	4	JAQUES DE BOYS	Let me have audience for a word or two. I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here, and put him to the sword; And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, Where, meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world; His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, And all their lands restor'd to them again That were with him exil'd. This to be true I do engage my life.
863		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	Welcome, young man. Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot; And after, every of this happy number, That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall.
864		5	4	JAQUES	Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court.
865		5	4	JAQUES DE BOYS	He hath.
866		5	4	JAQUES	To him will I. Out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. [To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit; [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed; [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd.- So to your pleasures; I am for other than for dancing measures.
867		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	Stay, Jaques, stay.
868		5	4	JAQUES	To see no pastime I. What you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. Exit
869		5	4	DUKE SENIOR	Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt EPILOGUE
870	(stage directions)	5	4		EPILOGUE.
871		5	4	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 epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to 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 to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring 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 pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths 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.
872	(stage directions)	5	4		THE END

A comedy written in 1599 by William Shakespeare