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As You Like It

Complete Text of the Shakespeare Play
With Definitions of Difficult Words and Explanations of Difficult Passages

Edited by Michael J. Cummings

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Complete Annotated Text


The following version of As You Like It is based on the text in the authoritative 1914 Oxford Edition of Shakespeare's works, edited by W. J. Craig. The text numbers the lines, including those with stage directions such as "Enter" and "Exit." Annotations (notes and definitions) appear in boldfaced type within the text.


Duke Senior: Rightful duke living in banishment with his followers in the forest of Arden. He is reminiscent of Robin Hood.
Duke Frederick: Duke Senior’s brother, who usurps Senior's dominions. 
Amiens, Jaques: Lords attending on the banished duke. 
Orlando, Oliver, Jaques de Boys: Sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. Orlando is in love with Rosalind, daughter of Duke Senior. Oliver, the oldest son, maltreats Orlando and denies him his full share in their father's bequest. Jaques (not to be confused with the lord of the same name) is away at school, prospering. 
Rosalind: Daughter of Duke Senior. She is the ideal heroine—intelligent, beautiful, courageous, cheerful, morally upright. 
Celia: Daughter of Duke Frederick and best friend of Rosalind. 
Le Beau: Courtier attending upon Frederick. 
Charles: Wrestler in the service of Frederick. 
Adam, Dennis: Servants of Oliver. Adam, an old man who is mistreated by Oliver, befriends Orlando. 
Touchstone: Clown. His presence in the play makes others react in a way that reveals their qualities; hence, he lives up to his name. Literally, a touchstone is a black stone used to assay the purity of precious metals. When a sample believed to contain gold or silver is rubbed against a touchstone, the sample leaves a streak on the stone. Acid is then used to burn away impurities that adulterate the gold or silver in the sample, leaving behind only the precious metal. Assayers then can evaluate the quality of the sample. 
Sir Oliver Martext: A vicar. 
Corin, Silvius: Shepherds.
Audrey: Country wench.
William: Country fellow in love with Audrey. 
Hisperia: Celia's gentlewoman.
Hymen: The god of marriage in Greek mythology. 
Phebe: Shepherdess. 
Minor Characters: Lords, pages, forester, and attendants.

Complete Annotated Text

Act 1, Scene 1: An orchard near Oliver's house.
Act 1, Scene 2: A lawn before the  duke's palace.
Act 1, Scene 3: A room in the palace.

Act 2, Scene 1: The forest of Arden.
Act 2, Scene 2: A room in the palace.
Act 2, Scene 3: Before Oliver's house.
Act 2, Scene 4: The forest of Arden.
Act 2, Scene 5: Another part of the forest.

Act 2, Scene 6: Another part of the forest.
Act 2, Scene 7: Another part of the forest.

Act 3, Scene 1: A room in the palace.
Act 3, Scene 2: The forest of Arden.
Act 3, Scene 3: Another part of the forest.
Act 3, Scene 4: Another part of the forest.
Act 3, Scene 5: Another part of the forest.

Act 4, Scene 1: The forest of Arden.
Act 4, Scene 2: Another part of the forest.
Act 4, Scene 3: Another part of the forest.

Act 5, Scene 1: The forest of Arden.
Act 5, Scene 2: Another part of the forest.
Act 5, Scene 3: Another part of the forest.
Act 5, Scene 4: Another part of the forest.


Act 1, Scene 1

An orchard near OLIVER’S house.

ORLANDO:  As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion [that my father (Rowland de Boys)] bequeathed me by will but poor
[but a meager] a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother [Oliver, the oldest son] on his blessing [on my father's blessingthat is, on whether Oliver would receive my father's blessing and goodwill], to breed [bring me up; educate me] me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he [Oliver] 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 [confines] me here at home unkept [neglected; ignored]; 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 [they receive training], and to that end riders dearly [at a high cost] hired: 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 [nature made him my brother, but he treats me like a stranger]: he lets me feed with his hinds [workers], bars me the place of a brother [bars me from my rights as a brother], and, as much as in him lies, mines [undermines; sabotages] my gentility with my [lack of] 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.   
ADAM:  Yonder comes my master, your brother.   
ORLANDO:  Go apart [Post yourself nearby], Adam, and thou shalt hear how [badly] he will shake me up.            5

OLIVER:  Now, sir! what make you here?   
ORLANDO:  Nothing: I am not taught to make anything.   
OLIVER:  What mar you then, sir? [What trouble are you causing, then, sir?]  
ORLANDO:  Marry [by the Virgin Mary], sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.            10
[I am . . . made: I am helping you to mar your poor unworthy brother by being idle.]
OLIVER:  Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught [quiet; out of my way] a while.   
ORLANDO:  Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent [what money have I spent wastefully], that I should come to such penury?   
OLIVER:  Know you where you are, sir?   
ORLANDO:  O! sir, very well: here in your orchard.   
OLIVER:  Know you before whom, sir?            15
ORLANDO:  Ay, better than he 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 [government laws and traditions] allows you [you to be] my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt [between] us. I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is
nearer to his reverence [your birth before mine makes you seem as well regarded as he was].   
OLIVER:  What, boy!   
ORLANDO:  Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.   
OLIVER:  Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?   
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 pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.            20
ADAM:  [Coming forward.]  Sweet masters, be patient: for your father’s remembrance, be at accord.   
OLIVER:  Let me go, I say.   
ORLANDO:  I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all 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 [inheritance] my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.   
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.   
ORLANDO:  I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.            25
OLIVER:  Get you with him, you old dog.   
ADAM:  Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master [Rowland de Boys]! he would not have spoke such a word.  [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM.   
OLIVER:  Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic [purge you of] your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!   

DENNIS:  Calls your worship?            30
OLIVER:  Was not Charles the duke’s wrestler here to speak with me?   
DENNIS:  So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.   
OLIVER:  Call him in.  [Exit DENNIS.]  ’Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.   

CHARLES:  Good morrow to your worship.            35
OLIVER:  Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news at the new court?   
CHARLES:  There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.   
OLIVER:  Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?   
CHARLES:  O, no; for the duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her,—being ever from their cradles bred together,—that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.   
OLIVER:  Where will the old duke live?            40
CHARLES:  They say he is already in the forest of Arden [Ardennes, in Belgium], 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 [pass] the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.   
OLIVER:  What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?   
CHARLES:  Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a 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 [keep; prevent] him from his intendment [intention to wrestle], or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search [desire] and altogether against my will.   
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 [envious imitator; jealous hater] of every man’s good parts, a secret and villanous [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 villanous [villainous] this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize [analyze] him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.   
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 [wrestle without supporters], I’ll never wrestle for prize more; and so God keep your worship!  [Exit.            45
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 schooled 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 [despised; ignored]. 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.

Act 1, Scene 2

A lawn before the DUKE’S palace.

CELIA:  I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz [my sweet cousin], be merry.   
ROSALIND:  Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of, and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn [teach] me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.   
CELIA:  Herein I see thou lovest 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 tempered as mine is to thee.            5
ROSALIND:  Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.   
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 [forcefully], 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.   
ROSALIND:  From henceforth I will, coz [cousin], and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?   
CELIA:  Marry, I prithee [I beg you; I pray], do, to make sport withal [with this matter]: 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.   
ROSALIND:  What shall be our sport then?            10
CELIA:  Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.   
[Fortune: In ancient Roman mythology, Fortuna, a goddess of fate who spun a wheel to select the destinies of humans at random. She was often depicted as being blind.  In Greek mythology, her name was Tyche.]
ROSALIND:  I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightly misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.   
CELIA:  ’Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly.   
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.   
Enter TOUCHSTONE.         15

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 [Touchstone] to cut off the argument?   
ROSALIND:  Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit.   
CELIA:  Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, but Nature’s; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural [Touchstone] for our whetstone: for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, wit! whither [where] wander you?   
TOUCHSTONE:  Mistress, you must come away to your father.   
CELIA:  Were you made the messenger?            20
TOUCHSTONE:  No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.   
ROSALIND:  Where learned you that oath, fool?   
TOUCHSTONE:  Of [from] a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught [bad]: now, I’ll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn [false to his sworn oath].   
CELIA:  How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?   
ROSALIND:  Ay, marry: now unmuzzle [release; show; display] your wisdom.            25
TOUCHSTONE:  Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave [deceitful or crafty person; villain].   
CELIA:  By our beards, if we had them, thou art.   
TOUCHSTONE:  By my knavery, if I had it, then I were [if I had knavery, then I am a knave]; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn [if you swear by that which I am not, you are not lying]: no more [neither] 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 pancakes or that mustard.   
CELIA:  Prithee, who is ’t that thou meanest?   
TOUCHSTONE:  One that old Frederick, your father, loves.            30
CELIA:  My father’s love is enough to honour him. Enough! speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation [humorous or witty talk; annoying talk] one of these days.   
TOUCHSTONE:  The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.   
CELIA:  By my troth [truth; faith], 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.   
ROSALIND:  With his mouth full of news.   
CELIA:  Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.            35
ROSALIND:  Then we shall be news-cramm’d.   
CELIA:  All the better; we shall be more marketable.   
Enter LE BEAU.

Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news?   
LE BEAU:  Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.            40
CELIA:  Sport! Of what colour? 
[Lines 40-41: According to G. B. Harrison (780), sport was pronounced like spot in Shakespeare's time. Celia pretends Le Beau said spot, then asks what color the spot is.]  
LE BEAU:  What colour, madam! How shall I answer you?   
ROSALIND:  As wit and fortune will.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Or as the Destinies decree.   
CELIA:  Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.            45
TOUCHSTONE:  Nay, if I keep not my rank,—   
ROSALIND:  Thou losest thy old smell.
[Lines 46-47: Smell is a pun on rank. As a noun (as in line 46), rank means position or standing. As an adjective, it can mean foul-smelling.]
LE BEAU:  You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.   
ROSALIND:  Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.   
LE BEAU:  I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please 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.            50
CELIA:  Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.   
LE BEAU:  There comes an old man and his three sons,—   
CELIA:  I could match this beginning with an old tale.   
LE BEAU:  Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;—   
ROSALIND:  With bills [announcements; advertisements] on their necks, ‘Be it known unto all men by these presents.’            55
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 served 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.   
ROSALIND:  Alas!   
TOUCHSTONE:  But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?   
LE BEAU:  Why, this that I speak of.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.            60
CELIA:  Or I, I promise thee.   
ROSALIND:  But is there any else longs to feel this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?   
LE BEAU:  You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.   
CELIA:  Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.   
Flourish [playing of trumpets].  Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, and attendants.        65

DUKE FREDERICK:  Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.   
ROSALIND:  Is yonder the man?   
LE BEAU:  Even he, madam.   
CELIA:  Alas! he is too young: yet he looks successfully.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither to see the wrestling?            70
ROSALIND:  Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the man: in pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain [gladly] dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.   
CELIA:  Call him hither, good Monsieur le Beau.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  Do so: I’ll not be by.  [DUKE goes apart.   
LE BEAU:  Monsieur the challenger, the princes call for you.            75
ORLANDO:  I attend them with all respect and duty.   
ROSALIND:  Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?   
ORLANDO:  No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.   
CELIA:  Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt.   
ROSALIND:  Do, young sir: your reputation shall not therefore be misprised [shall not suffer]. We will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward.            8
ORLANDO:  I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for 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.   
ROSALIND:  The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.   
CELIA:  And mine, to eke out hers.   
ROSALIND:  Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in you!   
CELIA:  Your heart’s desires be with you!            85
CHARLES:  Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?   
ORLANDO:  Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working [but I have no intention of being so improper as to lie with my mother].   
DUKE FREDERICK:  You shall try but one fall.
CHARLES:  No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.   
ORLANDO:  You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways [but let's get on with it].            90
ROSALIND:  Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!   
CELIA:  I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.  [CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle.   
ROSALIND:  O excellent young man!   
CELIA:  If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.  [CHARLES is thrown.  Shout.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  No more, no more.            95
ORLANDO:  Yes, I beseech your Grace: I am not yet well breathed.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  How dost thou, Charles?   
LE BEAU:  He cannot speak, my lord.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?  [CHARLES is borne out.   
ORLANDO:  Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.            100
DUKE 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.            105
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth:   
I would thou hadst told me of another father.  [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, Train, and LE BEAU.  
[Exeunt: Term used when more than one person leaves the stage.]
CELIA:  Were I my father, coz, would I do this?   
ORLANDO:  I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son,   
His youngest son; and would not change that calling,            110
To be adopted heir to Frederick.   
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,            115
Ere [before] he should thus have ventur’d.   
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:            120
If you do keep your promises in love   
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,   
Your mistress shall be happy.   
ROSALIND:  Gentleman,  [Giving him a chain from her neck.   
Wear this for me, one out of suits [favor] with fortune,            125
That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.   
Shall we go, coz?   
CELIA:  Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.   
ORLANDO:  Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts   
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up            130
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.   
[quintain: Post surmounted with a target that knights used to practice jousting.]
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.            135
CELIA:  Will you go, coz?   
ROSALIND:  Have with you. Fare you well.  [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.   
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!            140
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.   
Re-enter LE BEAU.

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,            145
Yet such is now the duke’s condition   
That he misconstrues all that you have done.   
The duke is humorous [moody]: what he is indeed,   
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.   
ORLANDO:  I thank you, sir; and pray you, tell me this;            150
Which of the two was daughter of the duke,   
That here was at the wrestling?   
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,            155
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,            160
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:            165
Hereafter, in a better world than this,   
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.   
ORLANDO:  I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.  [Exit LE BEAU.   
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;   
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother.            170
But heavenly Rosalind!  [Exit.   

Act 1, Scene 3

A room in the palace.

CELIA:  Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word?   
[Cupid: In ancient Roman myth, the god of love. His Greek name was Eros.]
ROSALIND:  Not one to throw at a dog.   
CELIA:  No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.            5
ROSALIND:  Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any.   
CELIA:  But is all this for your father?   
ROSALIND:  No, some of it is for my child’s father: O, how full of briers is this working-day world!   
CELIA:  They are but burrs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.   
ROSALIND:  I could shake them off my coat: these burrs are in my heart.            10
CELIA:  Hem them away [cough the burrs up].   
ROSALIND:  I would try, if I could cry ‘hem,’ and have him [Orlando].   
CELIA:  Come, come; wrestle with thy affections.   
ROSALIND:  O! they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!   
CELIA:  O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in 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?            15
ROSALIND:  The duke my father love his father dearly.   
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.   
ROSALIND:  No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.   
CELIA:  Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?   
ROSALIND:  Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do. Look, here comes the duke.            20
CELIA:  With his eyes full of anger.   
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.

DUKE FREDERICK:  Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,   
And get you from our court.   
ROSALIND: Me, uncle?            25
DUKE FREDERICK: You, cousin:   
Within these ten days if that thou be’st found   
So near our public court as twenty miles,   
Thou diest for it.   
ROSALIND: I do beseech your Grace,            30
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,            35
Never so much as in a thought unborn   
Did I offend your highness.   
DUKE FREDERICK: Thus do all traitors:   
If their purgation [exoneration] did consist in words,   
They are as innocent as grace itself:            40
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.   
ROSALIND:  Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:   
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  Thou art thy father’s daughter; there’s enough.   
ROSALIND:  So was I when your highness took his dukedom;            45
So was I when your highness banish’d him.   
Treason is not inherited, my lord;   
Or, if we did derive [inherit] it from our friends [blood relatives],   
What’s that to me? my father was no traitor:   
Then, good my liege [my good lord], mistake me not so much            50
To think my poverty is treacherous.   
CELIA:  Dear sovereign, hear me speak.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  Ay, Celia; we stay’d [kept; hosted] her for your sake;   
Else had she with her father ranged along [otherwise, she would have been banished with her father].   
CELIA:  I did not then entreat to have her stay:            55
It was your pleasure and your own remorse [compassion].   
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;            60
And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,
[Juno: In ancient Roman myth, the queen of the gods. Her Greek name was Hera.]  
Still we went coupled and inseparable.   
DUKE FREDERICK: She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,   
Her very silence and her patience,   
Speak to the people, and they pity her.            65
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.            70
CELIA:  Pronounce that sentence then, on me, my liege [lord]:   
I cannot live out of her company.   
DUKE 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.  [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords.            75
CELIA:  O my poor Rosalind! whither [where] wilt thou go?   
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.   
I charge thee, be not thou more griev’d than I am.   
ROSALIND:  I have more cause.   
CELIA: Thou hast not, cousin;            80
Prithee, be cheerful; know’st thou not, the duke   
Hath banish’d me, his daughter?   
ROSALIND: That he hath not.   
CELIA:  No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love   
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:            85
Shall we be sunder’d? [separated] 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 change upon you [and don't try to endure your troubles alone],            90
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.   
ROSALIND:  Why, whither shall we go?   
CELIA:  To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.            95
ROSALIND:  Alas, what danger will it be to us,   
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!   
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.   
CELIA:  I’ll put myself in poor and mean [shabby] attire,   
And with a kind of umber [reddish brown] smirch my face;            100
The like do you: so shall we pass along   
And never stir assailants.   
ROSALIND:  Were it not better,   
Because that I am more than common tall,   
That I did suit me all points like a man?            105
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
[curtle-axe: Curtal ax, which is another name for a cutlass. A cutlass was a curved, heavy sword used by sailors.]  
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 [we'll have a warlike appearance],   
As many other mannish cowards have            110
That do outface it  with their semblances [that hide their cowardice with a fearsome appearance].   
CELIA:  What shall I call thee when thou art a man?   
ROSALIND:  I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page,   
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.   
[Ganymede: In ancient myth, a Trojan boy of such good looks that he was a favorite of the king of the gods (Roman name, Jove or Jupiter; Greek name, Zeus). Jove made Ganymede the cupbearer of the gods.]
But what will you be call’d?            115
CELIA:  Something that hath a reference to my state:   
No longer Celia, but Aliena [name that means she is an outcast, or alien].   
ROSALIND:  But, cousin, what if we assay’d [attempted] to steal   
The clownish fool [Touchstone] out of your father’s court?   
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?            120
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            125
After my flight. Now go we in content   
To liberty and not to banishment.  [Exeunt.   

Act 2, Scene 1

The forest of Arden.
Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, like foresters.

DUKE SENIOR: Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,   
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet   
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods            5
[painted pomp: Foppery; artificiality; excessive display of grandiosity and elegance in one's clothes, manners, speech, etc.]
More free from peril than the envious court?   
[envious court: At court, nobles vie for attention and power.]
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
[penalty of Adam: Human imperfections or weaknesses inherited from Adam and Eve after they committed original sin; vulnerability to feeling physical and mental pain or discomfort]
The seasons’ difference; as, the icy fang   
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,   
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,            10
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say   
‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors   
That feelingly persuade me what I am.’
[Lines 8-13: The cold weather reminds the duke and his followers that they are human, not superhuman. At the same time, it tells them to delight in their life in the woods, free of the constraints of life in courtly society.]  
Sweet are the uses of adversity,   
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,            15
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 every thing.   
I would not change it.            20
[Lines 14-20: The duke welcomes the adversity of life in the woods. Adversity forces them to see and hear the delights of their natural surroundings.]
AMIENS: Happy is your Grace,   
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune   
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.   
DUKE SENIOR:  Come, shall we go and kill us venison?   
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools [deer],            25
Being native burghers [residents free to enjoy their living environment] of this desert city [forest],
Should in their own confines with forked heads [heads with antlers]  
Have their round haunches gor’d.   
First Lord. Indeed, my lord,   
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;            30
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            35
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;   
To the which place a poor sequester’d [solitary; separated from a herd] stag,   
That from the hunters’ aim had ta’en a hurt,   
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,   
The wretched animal heav’d forth such groans            40
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat [hide]  
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,            45
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,   
Augmenting [adding to] it with tears.   
DUKE SENIOR: But what said Jaques?   
Did he not moralize this spectacle?   
FIRST LORD:  O, yes, into a thousand similes.            50
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 abandon’d of his velvet friends;            55
‘’Tis right,’ quoth he; ‘thus misery doth part   
The flux of company:’ anon [soon], 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;            60
’Tis just the fashion; wherefore [why] 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            65
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.   
DUKE SENIOR:  And did you leave him in this contemplation?   
Sec. Lord.  We did, my lord, weeping and commenting            70
Upon the sobbing deer.   
DUKE SENIOR: Show me the place.   
I love to cope [observe] him in these sullen fits,   
For then he’s full of matter.   
Sec. Lord.  I’ll bring you to him straight.  [Exeunt.            75

Act 2, Scene 2

A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants.

DUKE FREDERICK:  Can it be possible that no man saw them?   
It cannot be: some villains of my court   
Are of consent and sufferance in this.            5
FIRST LORD:  I cannot hear of any that did see her.   
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,   
Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early   
They found the bed untreasur’d of their mistress.   
Sec. Lord.  My lord, the roynish [mangy; mean; troublesome] clown, at whom so oft            10
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            15
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;   
And she believes, wherever they are gone,   
That youth is surely in their company.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  Send to his brother [Oliver]; fetch that gallant hither;   
If he be absent, bring his brother to me;            20
I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly,   
And let not search and inquisition quail   
To bring again these foolish runaways.  [Exeunt.   

Act 2, Scene 3

Before OLIVER’S house.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.

ORLANDO:  Who’s there?   
ADAM:  What! my young master? O my gentle master!   
O my sweet master! O you memory            5
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 bony priser [wrestler] of the humorous [moody] duke?            10
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.            15
O, what a world is this, when what is comely   
Envenoms him that bears it!   
ORLANDO:  Why, what’s the matter?   
ADAM: O unhappy youth!   
Come not within these doors; within this roof            20
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            25
To burn the lodging where you use [used] 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:            30
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.   
ORLANDO:  Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?   
ADAM: No matter whither, so [as long as] you come not here.   
ORLANDO: What! wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?   
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce            35
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.            40
[diverted blood: Although Oliver is Orlando's blood brother, he has diverted his blood to wickedness against his brother.]
ADAM:  But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,   
The thrifty hire [nest egg] 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.            45
Take that; and He [God] that doth the ravens feed,   
Yea, providently caters [provides food] 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;            50
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,            55
Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you;   
I’ll do the service of a younger man   
In all your business and necessities. 
ORLANDO:  O good old man! how well in thee appears   
The constant [loyal; faithful] service of the antique [ancient] world,            60
When service sweat for duty, not for meed [reward]!   
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.            65
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,            70
We’ll light upon some settled low content.   
[low content: Modest but contented way of life]
ADAM:  Master, go on, and I will follow thee   
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.   
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore   
Here lived I, but now live here no more.            75
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.   

Act 2, Scene 4

The forest of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND in boy’s clothes, CELIA dressed like a shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.

ROSALIND:  O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits.
[Jupiter: In ancient Roman myth, the king of the gods, also called Jove. His Greek name was Zeus.] TOUCHSTONE:  I care not for my spirits if my legs were not weary.   
ROSALIND:  I could find it 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 [Celia's adopted name].            5
CELIA:  I pray you, bear with me: I cannot go no further.   
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.   
ROSALIND:  Well, this is the forest of Arden.   
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.   
ROSALIND:  Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.            10

CORIN:  That is the way to make her scorn you still.   
SILVIUS:  O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!   
CORIN:  I partly guess, for I have lov’d ere now.   
SILVIUS:  No, Corin; being old, thou canst not guess,            15
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            20
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy [feelings of love]?   
CORIN:  Into a thousand that I have forgotten.   
SILVIUS:  O! thou didst then ne’er love so heartily.   
If thou remember’st not the slightest folly   
That ever love did make thee run into,            25
Thou hast not lov’d:   
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,   
Wearing [boring] thy hearer with thy mistress’ praise,   
Thou hast not lov’d:   
Or if thou hast not broke from company            30
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,   
Thou hast not lov’d. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!  [Exit.   
ROSALIND:  Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound [listening to your tale of unrequited love],   
I have by hard adventure found mine own.   
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 [bat used to beat washed clothes], and the cow’s dugs [udders] that her pretty chopped hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod [pea pod] 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.            35
ROSALIND:  Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware [aware] of.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Nay, I shall ne’er be ware [aware] of mine own wit till I break my shins against it.   
ROSALIND: Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion   
Is much upon my fashion.   
[Lines 38-39:  The passion of Silvius for the woman he loves reminds Rosalind of her passion for Orlando.]
TOUCHSTONE:  And mine; but it grows something stale with me.            40
CELIA: I pray you, one of you question yond [yonder] man,   
If he for gold will give us any food:   
I faint almost to death.   
TOUCHSTONE: Holla, you clown!   
ROSALIND:  Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman.            45
CORIN:   Who calls?   
TOUCHSTONE:  Your betters, sir.   
CORIN:     Else are they very wretched.   
ROSALIND:  Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.   
CORIN:  And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.            50
ROSALIND:  I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold   
Can in this desert place buy entertainment [a place to stay],   
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.   
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d,   
And faints for succour [aid; help].            55
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:            60
My master is of churlish disposition   
And little recks [reckons] to find the way to heaven   
By doing deeds of hospitality.   
Besides, his cote [shelter for sheep], his flocks, and bounds of feed [land on which sheep graze]  
Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now,            65
By reason of his absence, there is nothing   
That you will feed on; but what is [is available], come see,   
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.   
ROSALIND:  What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?   
CORIN:  That young swain that you saw here but erewhile [a while ago],            70
That little cares for buying anything.   
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 [use our money to pay for it].   
CELIA:  And we will mend [raise] thy wages. I like this place,            75
And willingly could waste my time in it.   
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,            80
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.  [Exeunt.   

Act 2, Scene 5

Another part of the forest.
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and Others.

      Under the greenwood tree
      Who loves to lie with me,
      And turn [attune or harmonize] 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.
JAQUES:  More, more, I prithee, more.            5
AMIENS:  It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.   
JAQUES:  I thank it. More! I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs. More! I prithee, more.   
AMIENS:  My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you.   
JAQUES:  I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo [stanza]: call you them stanzos?   
AMIENS:  What you will, Monsieur Jaques.            10
JAQUES:  Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?   
AMIENS:  More at your request than to please myself.   
JAQUES:  Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank you: but that [what] they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes [baboons], and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.   
AMIENS:  Well, I’ll end the song. Sirs, cover the while [set up the table while I sing]; the duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you.   
JAQUES:  And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble; come.            15

      Who doth ambition shun,  [All together here.
      And loves to live i’ the 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.

JAQUES:  I’ll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite [spite] of my invention.   
AMIENS: And I’ll sing it.   
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.        20
AMIENS:  What’s that ‘ducdame?’   
JAQUES:  ’Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I’ll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
[first-born of Egypt: In the Old Testament Book of Exodus (11:1-13:16), God imposed a death penalty on all the firstborn of Egypt in order to liberate Israeli slaves.]
AMIENS:  And I’ll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared.  [Exeunt severally [not as a group, some turning left and some turning right].   

Act 2, Scene 6

Another part of the forest

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.   
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 [imagination] is nearer death than thy powers [physical health]. 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 lookest 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.

Act 2, Scene 7

Another part of the forest.
A table set out.  Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, Lords like Outlaws.

DUKE SENIOR:  I think he be transform’d into a beast,   
For I can nowhere find him like a man [in the form of a man].   
FIRST LORD:  My lord, he is but even now gone hence:            5
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.   
DUKE SENIOR:  If he, compact of jars [jarring tunes], grow musical,   
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.   
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.   
FIRST LORD:  He saves my labour by his own approach.            10

DUKE SENIOR:  Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,   
That your poor friends must woo your company?   
What, you look merrily!   
JAQUES:  A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest,            15
A motley [wearing clothes of different colors] 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 [carefully chosen words], and yet a motley fool.            20
‘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 [timepiece] from his poke,   
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,   
Says very wisely, ‘It is ten o’clock;            25
Thus may we 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,            30
And thereby hangs a tale.’ When I did hear   
The motley fool thus moral [moralize] on the time,   
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer [like a rooster],   
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,   
And I did laugh sans [without] intermission            35
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!   
A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.   
DUKE SENIOR:  What fool is this?   
JAQUES:  O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,   
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,            40
They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,—   
Which is as dry as the remainder [last] biscuit   
After a voyage,—he hath strange places crammed’d   
With observation, the which he vents   
In mangled forms [peculiar wording]. O that I were a fool!            45
I am ambitious for a motley coat.   
DUKE SENIOR:  Thou shalt have one.   
JAQUES:  It is my only suit;   
Provided that you weed your better judgments   
Of all opinion that grows rank [profusely] in them            50
That I am wise. I must have liberty   
Withal [moreover], as large a charter [as much freedom as] 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?            55
The ‘why’ is plain as way to parish church:   
He that a fool doth very wisely hit [poke fun at]  
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,   
Not to seem senseless of the bob [not to pretend to be unfazed by the comment] ; if not,   
The wise man’s folly is anatomiz’d  [revealed; cut into pieces for all to see]         60
Even by the squandering 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.            65
DUKE SENIOR:  Fie [exclamation of contempt] on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.   
JAQUES:  What, for a counter [retort; opposing view] , would I do, but good?   
DUKE SENIOR:  Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:   
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,   
As sensual as the brutish sting [lust] itself;            70
And all the embossed sores and headed evils [venereal diseases],   
That thou with licence of free foot [with your immoral behavior] hast caught,   
Wouldst thou disgorge [release] into the general world.   
JAQUES:  Why, who cries out on pride,   
That can therein tax any private party?            75
[Lines 74-75: Why are you so proudly righteous when you as duke could tax people at will?]
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,   
Till that the weary very means do ebb?   
[Till the weary citizens lack the means to pay their taxes?]
What woman in the city do I name,   
When that I say the city-woman bears   
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?            80
Who can come in and say that I mean her,   
When such a one as she such is her neighbour?   
[Lines 78-82: What woman in the city do I single out when all of them bear the same burden of taxation on their shoulders?]
Or what is he of basest function,   
That says his bravery [fashionable clothing] is not on my cost,—   
Thinking that I mean him,—but therein suits            85
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
[Lines 83-86: What about the minor government official who says the fine clothes he wears were not purchased at any cost to me? The fact that he speaks up in protest against my charges suggests that he is guilty of them.]  
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 [of guilt],   
Why then, my taxing [criticism] like a wild goose flies,            90
Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?   
Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn.

ORLANDO:  Forbear, and eat no more.   
JAQUES:  Why, I have eat none yet.   
ORLANDO:  Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv’d.            95
JAQUES:  Of what kind should this cock [bold fellow] come of?   
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?   
ORLANDO:  You touch’d my vein [purpose] at first [line 97]: the thorny point            100
Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show   
Of smooth civility; yet I am inland bred   
And know some nurture [manners]. But forbear, I say:   
He dies that touches any of this fruit   
Till I and my affairs are answered.            105
JAQUES:  An [if] you will not be answered with reason,   
I must die.   
DUKE SENIOR:  What would you have? Your gentleness shall force   
More than your force move us to gentleness.   
[Your . . . us to gentleness: Good manners shall do more than force to persuade us to do what you want.]
ORLANDO:  I almost die for food; and let me have it.            110
DUKE SENIOR:  Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.   
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 [appearance; disposition]   
Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are            115
That in this desert inaccessible [in this remote forest],   
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,            120
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.            125
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 engender’d;   
And therefore sit you down in gentleness            130
And take upon command what help we have   
That to your wanting may be minister’d.   
ORLANDO:  Then but forbear your food a little while,   
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn   
And give it food. There is an old poor man,            135
Who after me hath many a weary step   
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.   
DUKE SENIOR:   Go find him out [go fetch him],            140
And we will nothing waste till you return.   
ORLANDO:  I thank ye; and be bless’d for your good comfort!  [Exit.   
DUKE SENIOR:  Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:   
This wide and universal theatre   
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene            145
Wherein we play in.   
JAQUES:   All the world’s a stage,   
And all the men and women merely players:   
They have their exits and their entrances;   
And one man in his time plays many parts,            150
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,   
Mewling [crying] and puking in the nurse’s arms.   
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,   
And shining morning face, creeping like snail   
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,            155
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad   
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,   
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard [panther; leopard],   
Jealous in honour [upholding his honor], sudden and quick in quarrel,   
Seeking the bubble reputation [seeking fame, which lasts as long as a bubble]            160
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,   
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,   
[Line 162: The implication here is that he received a chicken as a bribe.]
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,   
Full of wise saws [proverbs] and modern instances [examples and stories];   
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts            165
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon [stock character in Italian comedies who wore pants with stockings attached],   
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,   
His youthful hose [trousers ending at the knees] well sav’d, a world too wide   
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,   
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes            170
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,   
That ends this strange eventful history,   
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,   
Sans [without] teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.  

Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.        175

DUKE SENIOR:  Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,   
And let him feed.   
ORLANDO:   I thank you most for him.   
ADAM:  So had you need:   
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.            180
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.   

        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 remember’d not.
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.        185
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 [images] witness   
Most truly limn’d [described] and living in your face,   
Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke            190
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.            195

Act 3, Scene 1

A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Attendants.

DUKE FREDERICK:  Not seen him since! Sir, sir, that cannot be:   
But were I not the better part made mercy,   
I should not seek an absent argument            5
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:   
[Lines 5-6: I would not seek your absent brother. Instead, I would take my revenge on you.]
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.            10
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine   
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,   
Till thou canst quit thee [redeem yourself] by thy brother’s mouth   
Of what we think against thee.   
OLIVER:  O that your highness knew my heart in this!            15
I never lov’d my brother in my life.   
DUKE FREDERICK:  More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;   
And let my officers of such a nature   
Make an extent upon [seize control of] his house and lands.   
Do this expediently and turn him going.  [Exeunt.            20

Act 3, Scene 2

The forest of Arden.
Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.

ORLANDO:  Hang there, my verse [a poem], in witness of my love:   
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey   
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,            5
Thy huntress’ name, that my full life doth sway.   
[Lines 4: In a figure of speech called apostrophe, Orlando addresses the goddess of the moon and the hunt. Her Roman name was Diana, and her Greek, Artemis.]
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 everywhere.            10
Run, run, Orlando: carve on every tree   
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.  [Exit.   

CORIN: And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone?   
TOUCHSTONE:  Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught [nothing]. 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 [disposition; mood] well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?            15
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.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd?   
CORIN:  No, truly.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Then thou art damned.   
CORIN:  Nay, I hope.            20
TOUCHSTONE:  Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.   
CORIN:  For not being at court? Your reason.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous [perilous] state, shepherd.   
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 [unclean] if courtiers were shepherds.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Instance [give me an example], briefly; come, instance.            25
CORIN:  Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells [hides; pelts], you know, are greasy.   
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.   
CORIN:  Besides, our hands are hard.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Your lips will feel them the sooner: shallow again. A more sounder instance; come.   
CORIN:  And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet [animal secretion used in perfumes].            30
TOUCHSTONE:  Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend [pay attention]: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.   
CORIN:  You have too courtly a wit for me: I’ll rest.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee [cut you open to let blood as a cure for your sinfulness]! thou art raw.   
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.   
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 [mating] of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether [bellwether: sheep that leads a herd; a bell hangs from its neck], and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldy [lusty] ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds: I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape [escape].            35
CORIN:  Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother.   
Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper [Orlando's poem].

From the east to western Ind [India],
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lin’d [drawn]
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind,
But the fair of Rosalind.
TOUCHSTONE:  I’ll rime you so, eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-women’s rank to market.  
[Line 39: I could write poetry like that for eight years straight, not counting time out for suppers and sleeping. It would be lousy poetry, just like yours, sounding like the tramping of country women on their way to the market.]
ROSALIND:  Out, fool!            40
TOUCHSTONE:  For a taste:—
If a hart [male deer] do lack a hind [female deer],
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin’d,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf [gather stalks of wheat into a bundle] and bind,
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love’s prick and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop [bad progression] of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?   
ROSALIND:  Peace! you dull fool: I found them on a tree.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.   
ROSALIND:  I’ll graff [graft—that is, unite] it with you, and then I shall graff [graft] it with a medlar [tree fruit resembling a crab apple; it is edible only after it begins to decay]: then it will be the earliest fruit i’ the country; for you’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar.            45
TOUCHSTONE:  You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.   
Enter CELIA, reading a paper.

ROSALIND: Peace!   
Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.   
CELIA: [Reading]

Why should this a desert be?
  For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I’ll hang on every tree,
  That shall civil [polite; elegant; civilized] sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
  Runs his erring [wandering] pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
  Buckles in his sum of age;
Some, of violated vows
  ’Twixt [between] 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 [pure essence of a person or thing] 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,
[Helen: Helen of Troy. In ancient myth, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.]
  Cleopatra’s majesty,
Atalanta’s better part,
[Atalanta: In ancient myth, a fierce huntress who was fleet of foot]
  Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
[Lucretia (or Lucrece): In ancient Roman legend, a beautiful and modest woman who was raped by one of her soldier-husband's compatriots]
Thus Rosalind 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.         50

ROSALIND: O most gentle pulpiter [Orlando, as if he wrote a sermon and read it from a pulpit]! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal [with this poem], and never cried, ‘Have patience, good people!’   
CELIA:  How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little: go with him, sirrah [term used to address people of lowly status].   
TOUCHSTONE:  Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip [wallet] and scrippage [coined word that could refer to money].  [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.   
CELIA:  Didst thou hear these verses?   
ROSALIND:  O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet [unit of rhythm in a line of poetry] than the verses would bear.            55
CELIA:  That’s no matter: the feet might bear the verses [play on words; pun].   
ROSALIND:  Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.   
CELIA:  But didst thou hear without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?   
ROSALIND:  I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came [I was in a state of wonderment before you came]; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-rimed [written about in poems] since Pythagoras’ time [Pythagoras: ancient Greek philosopher who, among other pursuits, studied harmony], that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.  
[Irish rat: G. B. Harrison says (792) that there was a belief in Ireland that "rats could be destroyed by incantation in rhyme."]  
CELIA:  Trow you who hath done this [Can you guess who has done this]?            60
ROSALIND:  Is it a man?   
CELIA:  And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour?   
ROSALIND:  I prithee, who?   
CELIA:  O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter. [Why is it so hard to get through to you? It's as if there's a mountain between us, and I have to wait for an earthquake to remove it.]
ROSALIND:  Nay, but who is it?            65
CELIA:  Is it possible?   
ROSALIND:  Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.   
CELIA:  O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful! and after that, out of all whooping!   
ROSALIND:  Good my complexion [for goodness' sake]! dost thou think, though I am caparison’d [dressed] like a man, I have a doublet [close-fitting jacket] and hose [close-fitting trousers] in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery [one more second of delay would seem to me as a long as a journey of discovery in the South Seas]; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a 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.   
CELIA:  So you may put a man in your belly.            70
ROSALIND:  Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?   
CELIA:  Nay, he hath but a little beard.   
ROSALIND:  Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.   
CELIA:  It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both, in an instant.   
ROSALIND:  Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and true maid.            75
CELIA:  I’ faith, coz, ’tis he.   
ROSALIND:  Orlando?   
CELIA:  Orlando.   
ROSALIND:  Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee, and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.   
CELIA:  You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first: ’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.            80
[Gargantua: Gigantic king in a 1534 literary work by the French writer François Rabelais (1494-1553)]
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?   
CELIA:  It is as easy to count atomies [tiny particles or creatures] as to resolve the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn.   
ROSALIND:  It may well be called Jove’s tree, when it drops forth such fruit.   
CELIA:  Give me audience, good madam.   
ROSALIND:  Proceed.            85
CELIA:  There lay he, stretch’d along like a wounded knight.   
ROSALIND:  Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.   
CELIA:  Cry ‘holla!’ [stop!] to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets [leaps; frolics] unseasonably. He was furnish’d like a hunter.   
ROSALIND:  O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.   
CELIA:  I would sing my song without a burthen [burden]: thou bringest me out of tune.            90
ROSALIND:  Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.   
CELIA:  You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?   
ROSALIND:  ’Tis he: slink by, and note him.   

JAQUES:  I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief [soon] have been myself alone.            95
ORLANDO:  And so had I; but yet, for fashion’s sake, I thank you too for your society.   
JAQUES:  God be wi’ you: let’s meet as little as we can.   
ORLANDO:  I do desire we may be better strangers.   
JAQUES:  I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks.   
ORLANDO:  I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.            100
JAQUES:  Rosalind is your love’s name?   
ORLANDO:  Yes, just.   
JAQUES:  I do not like her name.   
ORLANDO:  There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.   
JAQUES:  What stature is she of?            105
ORLANDO:  Just as high as my heart.   
JAQUES:  You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conn’d them out of rings?   
ORLANDO:  Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth [but I answer you honestly, like the speaking mouths pictured on tapestries], from whence you have studied your questions.   
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.   
ORLANDO:  I will chide no breather [no other person] in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.            110
JAQUES:  The worst fault you have is to be in love.   
ORLANDO:  ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.   
JAQUES:  By my troth [in truth], I was seeking for a fool when I found you.   
ORLANDO:  He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him.   
JAQUES:  There I shall see mine own figure.            115
ORLANDO:  Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.   
JAQUES:  I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love.   
ORLANDO:  I am glad of your departure. Adieu [good-bye in French], good Monsieur Melancholy.  [Exit JAQUES.   
ROSALIND:  I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester?   
ORLANDO:  Very well: what would you?            120
ROSALIND:  I pray you, what is ’t o’clock? [what time is it?] 
ORLANDO:  You should ask me, what time o’ day; there’s no clock in the forest.   
ROSALIND:  Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.   
ORLANDO:  And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper?   
ROSALIND:  By no means, sir. Time travels in divers [diverse; various] paces with divers persons. I’ll tell you who Time ambles withal [also], who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.            125
ORLANDO:  I prithee, who doth he trot withal?   
ROSALIND:  Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized; if the interim be but a se’nnight [sevennight: week], Time’s pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year.   
ORLANDO:  Who ambles Time withal?   
ROSALIND:  With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.   
ORLANDO:  Who doth he gallop withal [roam around with]?            130
ROSALIND:  With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall he thinks himself too soon there.   
ORLANDO:  Who stays it still withal?   
ROSALIND:  With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.   
ORLANDO:  Where dwell you, pretty youth?   
ROSALIND:  With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.            135
ORLANDO:  Are you native of this place?   
ROSALIND:  As the cony [rabbit], that you see dwell where she is kindled.   
ORLANDO:  Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.   
ROSALIND:  I have been told so of [by] 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 touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.   
ORLANDO:  Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women?            140
ROSALIND:  There were none principal; they were all like one another as half-pence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it.   
ORLANDO:  I prithee, recount some of them.   
ROSALIND:  No, I will not cast away my physic [remedies], 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 [in fact], 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 [a fever that returns every day] of love upon him.   
ORLANDO:  I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you, tell me your remedy.   
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 [I am sure you are not a prisoner of love in a small cage].            145
ORLANDO:  What were his marks?   
ROSALIND:  A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye [eye with a dark, bluish cast to the skin beneath it] and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable [downcast] 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 [your beard is as meager as a younger brother's income]. Then, your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man: you are rather point-device [neat; precise] in your accoutrements [attire]; as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.  
ORLANDO:  Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.   
ROSALIND:  Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does; that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth [truth], are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?   
ORLANDO:  I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.            150
ROSALIND:  But are you so much in love as your rimes speak?   
ORLANDO:  Neither rime nor reason can express how much.
[Neither rime nor reason: Apparently Shakespeare invented this phrase, which people still use today.]  
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 punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.   
ORLANDO:  Did you ever cure any so?   
ROSALIND:  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 [capricious; changeable] 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 [drove] 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 cured him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in ’t.            155
ORLANDO:  I would not be cured, youth.   
ROSALIND:  I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote [shelter] and woo me.   
ORLANDO:  Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me where it is.   
ROSALIND:  Go with me to it and I’ll show it you; and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?   
ORLANDO:  With all my heart, good youth.            160
ROSALIND:  Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go?  [Exeunt.   

Act 3, Scene 3

Another part of the forest.

TOUCHSTONE:  Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you?   
AUDREY:  Your features! Lord warrant us! what features?   
TOUCHSTONE:  I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid [Roman author (43 BC-AD 17 or 18) of Metamorphoses, a narrative Latin poem that recounts myths], was among the Goths.            5
[Touchstone compares himself with the great Roman poet Ovid, saying his accompaniment of a country wench with goats is much like Ovid was among barbarians.]
JAQUES:  [Aside.]  O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch’d house! [Knowledge poorly used is worse than the king of the gods, Jove, living in a cottage.] 
[Aside:  Stage direction indicating that the speaker is whispering to himself—or, in some cases—to a nearby character or characters—out of hearing of others on the stage.]
TOUCHSTONE:  When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with [approved by] 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.   
[great reckoning . . . room: "A huge bill for a private dinner party," according to G. B. Harrison (795)
AUDREY:  I do not know what ‘poetical’ is. Is it honest [chaste] in deed and word? Is it a true thing?   
TOUCHSTONE:  No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning [deceitful]; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign [deceive].   
AUDREY:  Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical?            10
TOUCHSTONE:  I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign [lie].   
AUDREY:  Would you not have me honest?   
TOUCHSTONE:  No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour’d [unattractive; plain]; for honesty [chastity] coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.   
JAQUES:  [Aside.]  A material fool [the fool makes sense].   
AUDREY:  Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.            15
TOUCHSTONE:  Truly, and to cast away honesty [chastity] upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.   
AUDREY:  I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul [unattractive].   
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 [minister] of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us.   
JAQUES:  [Aside.]  I would fain [gladly] see this meeting.   
AUDREY:  Well, the gods give us joy!            20
TOUCHSTONE:  Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple [church] but the wood, no assembly [no people in pews] 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 [no, even noblemen have them] as huge as the rascal [the poor man's horns]. Is the single man therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver.   
[Line 21: In Shakespeare's plays, a husband whose wife is unfaithful is called a cuckold. A cuckold was sometimes depicted in artworks as having horns on his head. Therefore, Touchstone appears to be suggesting that he will become a cuckold if he marries. He also says, "many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them," apparently because a man's wife has many lovers.]


Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch [marry] us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?   
SIR OLIVER:  Is there none here to give [give away] the woman?   
TOUCHSTONE:  I will not take her on gift of any man.            25
SIR OLIVER:  Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.   
JAQUES:  [Coming forward.]  Proceed, proceed: I’ll give her.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Good even, good Master What-ye-call ’t [Master What's-your-name:] how do you, sir? You are very well met [very welcome here]: God ’ild [reward] you for your last company [for your presence here]: I am very glad to see you: even a toy in hand here, sir [I am very glad to see you, but this occasion is no big deal, sir]: nay, pray be covered [pray, keep your hat on].   
JAQUES:  Will you be married, motley [fool]?   
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.            30
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 [paneling for a wall or the lower part of a wall]; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber, warp, warp.   
TOUCHSTONE:  [Aside.]  I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of [by] him than of [by] another: for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.   
JAQUES:  Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Come, sweet Audrey:   
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry [We must be married, or else live together in sin.]            35
Farewell, good Master Oliver: not
    O sweet Oliver!
    O brave Oliver!
Leave me not behind thee:
    Wind away,
    Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee.
SIR OLIVER:  ’Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling.  [Exit.   

Act 3, Scene 4

Another part of the forest.

ROSALIND:  Never talk to me: I will weep.   
CELIA:  Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man [keep in mind that Rosalind is disguised as a man].   
ROSALIND:  But have I not cause to weep?            5
CELIA:  As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.   
ROSALIND:  His very hair is of the dissembling [deceptive] colour.   
CELIA:  Something browner than Judas’s; marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children.   
[Line 8: Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Jesus, is sometimes depicted as having red or reddish brown hair.]
ROSALIND:  I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour.   
CELIA:  An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever the only colour.            10
ROSALIND:  And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.   
CELIA:  He hath bought [he has] a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.   
ROSALIND:  But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?   
CELIA:  Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.   
ROSALIND:  Do you think so?            15
CELIA:  Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse [pickpocket] nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity [faithfulness] in love, I do think him as concave [empty; hollow] as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut.   
ROSALIND:  Not true in love?   
CELIA:  Yes, when he is in [in love]; but I think he is not in.   
ROSALIND:  You have heard him swear downright he was.   
CELIA:  ‘Was’ is not ‘is:’ besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster [bartender]; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings. [Bartenders charge you more than you owe; lovers lie about their dedication to you.] He attends here in the forest on the duke your father.            20
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 laughed, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?   
CELIA:  O, that’s a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all’s brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes here?   
[breaks them bravely . . . guides: Breaks his oaths bravely, like an inexperienced knight in a jousting match who breaks his lance on his opponent's shield when in fear he leans to the left or right.]
Enter CORIN.

CORIN:  Mistress and master, you have oft inquir’d   
After the shepherd that complain’d of love,            25
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,   
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess   
That was his mistress.   
CELIA:  Well, and what of him?   
CORIN:  If you will see a pageant truly play’d,            30
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.   
ROSALIND:  O! come, let us remove [go with him]:            35
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.

Act 3, Scene 5

Another part of the forest.
Enter Silvius and Phebe.

SILVIUS:  Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe:   
Say that you love me not, but say not so   
In bitterness. The common executioner,            5
Whose heart the 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?   
Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind.         10

PHEBE: I would not be thy executioner:   
I fly [run from] thee, for I would not injure thee.   
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:   
’Tis pretty [likely], sure, and very probable,   
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,            15
Who shut their coward gates [eyelids] on atomies [specks; motes],   
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 swound [pretend to faint]; why now fall down;            20
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 but upon a rush,            25
The cicatrice [scar; cut] and capable impressure [impression left]   
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,   
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,   
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes   
That can do hurt.            30
SILVIUS:  O dear Phebe,   
If ever,—as that ever may be near,—   
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy [you fall in love with someone else],   
Then shall you know the wounds invisible   
That love’s keen arrows make.            35
[Line 35: An allusion to Cupid. He was depicted as shooting arrows that inflamed people with love.]
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.   
ROSALIND:  [Advancing.]  And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,            40
That you insult, exult, and all at once,   
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,—   
As by my faith, I see no more in you   
Than without candle may go dark to bed,—   
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?            45
[Lines 40-45: And why, I ask you? Is your mother some queen that you have the royal right to mock the poor wretches who feel the pangs of love? Though you have no beauty, why are you so 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!   
[Lines 46-48: I see no more in you than an ordinary person. My goodness!]
I think she means to tangle my eyes too.   
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:            50
’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 [Silvius], wherefore [why] do you follow her,   
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?            55
You are a thousand times a properer man   
Than she a woman: ’tis such fools as you   
That make the world full of ill-favour’d children:   
’Tis not her glass [mirror], but you, that flatters her;   
And out of you she sees herself more proper            60
Than any of her lineaments [physical features] 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.            65
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.   
PHEBE:  Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together [talk on for a whole year]:   
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.            70
[Lines 68-69: Again, remember that Rosalind is disguised as a man.]
ROSALIND:  He’s fallen in love with her foulness, and she’ll fall [and she has fallen] 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?   
PHEBE:  For no ill will I bear you.   
ROSALIND:  I pray you, do not fall in love with me,   
For I am falser than vows made in wine:   
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,            75
’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.            80
Come, to our flock.  [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN.   
PHEBE:  Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might [now I understand that mighty proverb you quoted]:   
‘Who ever lov’d that lov’d not at first sight?’   
SILVIUS:  Sweet Phebe,—   
PHEBE:  Ha! what sayst thou, Silvius?            85
SILVIUS:  Sweet Phebe, pity me.   
PHEBE:  Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.   
SILVIUS:  Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:   
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,   
By giving love your sorrow and my grief            90
Were both extermin’d [exterminated].   
PHEBE:  Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?   
SILVIUS:  I would have you.   
PHEBE:  Why, that were covetousness.   
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee;            95
And yet it is not that I bear thee love:   
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,   
Thy company, which erst [previously] was irksome to me,   
I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too;   
But do not look for further recompense            100
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ’d.   
SILVIUS:  So holy and so perfect is my love,   
And I in such a poverty of grace,   
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop   
To glean the broken ears after the man            105
That the main harvest reaps:  [pick up the broken ears of corn after a worker harvests the crop] loose now and then   
A scatter’d smile, and that I’ll live upon.   
PHEBE:  Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile [a moment a go]?   
SILVIUS:  Not very well, but I have met him oft;   
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds            110
That the old carlot [farmer] once was master of.  
  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.            115
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.            120
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            125
Betwixt [between] the constant red and mingled damask [mixed hues].   
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            130
Have more cause to hate him than to love him:   
For what had he to do to chide at me [why did he criticize me]?   
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;   
And, now I am remember’d, scorn’d at me.   
I marvel why I answer’d not again:            135
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?   
SILVIUS:  Phebe, with all my heart.   
PHEBE:  I’ll write it straight;            140
The matter’s in my head and in my heart:   
I will be bitter with him and passing short [very short; curt].   
Go with me, Silvius.  [Exeunt.

Act 4, Scene 1

The forest.

JAQUES:  I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.   
ROSALIND:  They say you are a melancholy fellow.   
JAQUES:  I am so; I do love it better than laughing.            5
ROSALIND:  Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.   
JAQUES:  Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.   
ROSALIND:  Why, then, ’tis good to be a post.   
JAQUES:  I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation [envying other scholars' achievements]; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical [melancholy resulting from the musician's attempts to convert his imagination and creativity into music]; nor the courtier’s, which is proud [melancholy resulting from the courtier's experiences at court among his peers]; nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious [melancholy resulting from the struggle to achieve battlefield glory]; nor the lawyer’s, which is politic [melacholgy resulting from the lawyer's activity as a sly interpreter and manpulator of the law]; 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 [ingredients], extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of [various thoughts about] my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous [moody] sadness.   
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.            10
JAQUES:  Yes, I have gained my experience.   
ROSALIND:  And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad: and to travel for it too!   

ORLANDO:  Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!   
JAQUES:  Nay then, God be wi’ [with] you, an [if] you talk in blank verse.  [Exit.            15
ROSALIND:  Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp [speak with imperfect pronunciation; speak with a French accent], and wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be out of love with your nativity [wish you were never born], and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are [for making your dour face]; or I will scarce think you have swam [swum] in a gondola [scarce think you have ridden in a gondola, a boat that plies the canals of Venice, Italy; scarce think that you are a traveler]. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover! An [if] you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.   
[Line 16: Because Jaques said he liked to be sad (line 7), Rosalind is bidding him farewell by telling him to do things that would make him sad or melancholy].
ORLANDO:  My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.   
ROSALIND:  Break an hour’s promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.   
ORLANDO:  Pardon me, dear Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  Nay, an [if] you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be wooed of a snail.            20
ORLANDO:  Of a snail!   
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.   
ORLANDO:  What’s that?   
ROSALIND:  Why, horns; that such as you are fain [glad] to be beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife.   
ORLANDO:  Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.            25
ROSALIND:  And I am your Rosalind?   
CELIA:  It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer [prettier face] than you.   
ROSALIND:  Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour [mood], and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an [if] I were your very very Rosalind?   
ORLANDO:  I would kiss before I spoke.  
ROSALIND:  Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled [stumped; puzzled] 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 [subject matter], the cleanliest shift [best thing to do] is to kiss.            30
ORLANDO:  How if the kiss be denied?   
ROSALIND:  Then she puts you to entreaty [then she makes you beg], and there begins new matter.   
ORLANDO:  Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress [who could run out of things to say when he is talking about his beloved]?   
ROSALIND:  Marry, that should you [you would], if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.   
ORLANDO:  What, of my suit [my wooing]?            35
ROSALIND:  Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?   
ORLANDO:  I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of [to] her.   
ROSALIND:  Well, in her person I say I will not have you.   
ORLANDO:  Then in mine own person I die.   
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 [viz.; namely], in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the cramp was drowned; and the foolish coroners 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.            40
[Troilus: In ancient Greek myth, the youngest son of Priam, king of Troy, during the Trojan War against Greece. He was killed by Achilles, the greatest of the Greek warriors. Before his death, he and a young Trojan woman, Cressida pledged their love to each other. But she betrayed him for a Greek. Shakespeare recounts the love story in his play Troilus and Cressida.
Leander and Hero: In ancient Greek myth,
Leander, a youth of Abydos (a town on the Asian side of present-day Turkey), fell in love with Hero, a priestess of the goddess of love, Aphrodite (Roman name: Venus). Hero lived in a tower on the European side of Turkey. Every night, Leander would swim across a narrow waterway between Europe and Asia to visit her. However, on one trip he drowned. Hero then plunged to her death from the tower.
Hellespont: Narrow waterway off the northwestern coast of Anatolia (the present-day western part of Turkey)]
ORLANDO:  I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me.   
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.   
ORLANDO:  Then love me, Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  Yes, faith will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.   
ORLANDO:  And wilt thou have me?            45
ROSALIND:  Ay, and twenty such.   
ORLANDO:  What sayest thou?   
ROSALIND:  Are you not good?   
ORLANDO:  I hope so.   
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?            50
ORLANDO:  Pray thee, marry us.   
CELIA:  I cannot say the words.   
ROSALIND:  You must begin,—‘Will you, Orlando,’—   
CELIA:  Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?   
ORLANDO:  I will.            55
ROSALIND:  Ay, but when?   
ORLANDO:  Why now; as fast as she can marry us.   
ROSALIND:  Then you must say, ‘I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.’   
ORLANDO:  I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.   
ROSALIND:  I might ask you for your commission [for proof that you have a right to marry me]; 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.            60
ORLANDO:  So do all thoughts; they are winged.   
ROSALIND:  Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her?   
ORLANDO:  For ever and a day.   
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 newfangled [jumping around for want of entertainment] than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing [for no good reason], like Diana in the fountain [like a statue of the goddess Diana that cries with the tears of the water sprayed from the fountain], and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen [hyena], and that when thou art inclined to sleep.   
ORLANDO:  But will my Rosalind do so?            65
ROSALIND:  By my life, she will do as I do.   
ORLANDO:  O! but she is wise.
ROSALIND:  Or else she could not have the wit [intelligence] to do this [to do all the things that I just mentioned (line 64)]: the wiser, the waywarder [the more undisciplined; the more capricious]: make [shut] the doors upon a woman’s wit, and it will out at the casement; [window] shut that, and ’twill out at the key-hole; stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.   
ORLANDO:  A man that hath a wife with such a wit, he might say, ‘Wit, whither wilt? [wit, what will you do next]’?   
ROSALIND:  Nay, you might keep that check for it till
[you ask your questions about the time that] you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s bed.            70
ORLANDO:  And what wit [answer] could wit have to excuse that?
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 [that cannot blame her husband for her own faults], let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool.   
ORLANDO:  For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.   
ROSALIND:  Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.   
ORLANDO:  I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o’clock I will be with thee again.            75
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 [I am being cast away, abandoned], and so, come, death! Two o’clock is your hour?   
ORLANDO:  Ay, sweet Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  By my troth [truly], 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.   
ORLANDO:  With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so, adieu [farewell in French].   
ROSALIND:  Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try. Adieu.  [Exit ORLANDO.            80
CELIA:  You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.   
ROSALIND:  O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded [measured]: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.   
CELIA:  Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.   
ROSALIND:  No; that same wicked bastard of Venus [bastard of Venus: allusion to Cupid], that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one’s eyes because his own are out [works of art often depict Cupid as blind or blindfolded], 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.   
CELIA:  And I’ll sleep.  [Exeunt.            85

Act 4, Scene 2

Another part of the forest.
Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters.

JAQUES:  Which is he that killed the deer?   
FIRST LORD:  Sir, it was I.   
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?            5
Second Lord.  Yes, sir.   
JAQUES:  Sing it: ’tis no matter how it be in tune so it make noise enough.   
What shall he have that kill’d the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear.
   Then sing him home.  [The rest shall bear this burden.
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
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.   

Act 4, Scene 3

Another part of the forest.

ROSALIND:  How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? And here much Orlando!  [And where is Orlando!] 
CELIA:  I warrant you, with pure love and a troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here.   
Enter SILVIUS.          5

SILVIUS:  My errand is to you, fair youth.   
My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this:  [Giving a letter.   
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,            10
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me;   
I am but as a guiltless messenger.   
ROSALIND:  Patience herself would startle at this letter,   
And play the swaggerer: bear this, bear all:   
[Lines 13-14: If patience were a person, she would be very unhappy with this letter. If I can bear the insults in it, I can bear anything.]
She says I am not fair; that I lack manners;            15
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me   
Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will [as God is my witness]!   
[In Egyptian mythology, the phoenix was a rare bird that lived 500 years, then died in a fire after the sun ignited an Arabian tree on which the phoenix was perched. The tree was located near Heliopolis, Egypt. From the ashes, the phoenix rose to new life.]
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.            20
SILVIUS:  No, I protest, I know not the contents:   
Phebe did write it.   
ROSALIND:  Come, come, you are a fool,   
And turn’d into the extremity of love.   
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,            25
A freestone-colour’d hand; I verily did think   
[Lines 25-26:  When I saw her hand, it had the look and color of leather; I truly did think]
That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands:   
She has a housewife’s hand; but that’s no matter:   
I say she never did invent this letter;   
This is a man’s invention, and his hand.            30
SILVIUS:  Sure, it is hers.   
ROSALIND:  Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style,   
A style for challengers; why, she defies me,   
Like Turk to Christian: woman’s gentle brain   
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,            35
Such Ethiop [Ethiopian] words, blacker in their effect   
Than in their countenance [hue]. Will you hear the letter?   
SILVIUS:  So please you, for I never heard it yet;   
Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty.   
ROSALIND:  She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes.  [Reads.]
Art thou god to shepherd turn’d, [are you a god turned into a shepherd]
That a maiden’s heart hath burn’d?"         40
Can a woman rail thus?   
SILVIUS:  Call you this railing?   
ROSALIND:  [Reads.]
Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?
[Why are you, a god, making war on 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 [eyes]
Have power to raise such love in mine [have power to make me fall in love],
Alack [alas]! in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect [would they work if you looked at me in a gentle way].
Whiles you chid [scold; criticize] me, I did love [love you];
How then might your prayers move! [Consider then how gentleness would affect me; after all, I loved you when you criticized me. But suppose you had been gentle with me.]
He [Silvius] that brings this love to thee
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.         45
SILVIUS:  Call you this chiding?   
CELIA:  Alas, poor shepherd!   
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 endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I 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 [go], and not a word, for here comes more company.  [Exit SILVIUS.   

OLIVER:  Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you if you know,            50
Where in the purlieus [neighborhood; region] of this forest stands   
A sheepcote [shelter for sheep] fenc’d about with olive-trees?   
CELIA:  West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom [neighboring valley]:   
The rank of osiers [row of willows] by the murmuring stream   
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.            55
But at this hour the house doth keep itself [keep to itself];   
There’s none within.   
OLIVER:  If that an eye may profit by a tongue,   
Then should I know you by description;   
Such garments, and such years: ‘The boy is fair,            60
Of female favour, and bestows himself [acts; behaves]   
Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,   
And browner than her brother.’ Are not you   
The owner of the house I did inquire for?   
CELIA:  It is no boast, being ask’d, to say, we are.            65
OLIVER:  Orlando doth commend him to you both,   
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind   
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?   
ROSALIND:  I am: what must we understand by this?   
OLIVER:  Some of my shame; if you will know of me            70
What man I am, and how, and why, and where   
This handkercher was stain’d.   
CELIA:  I pray you, tell it.   
OLIVER:  When last the young Orlando parted from you   
He left a promise to return again            75
Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,   
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy [thoughts of love],   
Lo, what befell [happened]! he threw his eye aside,   
And mark what object did present itself:   
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss’d with age,            80
And high top bald [rotting away] with dry antiquity [dryness and age],   
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            85
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,   
Seeing Orlando, it unlink’d itself,   
And with indented glides [undulating glides] did slip away   
Into a bush; under which bush’s shade   
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,            90
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,            95
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.   
CELIA:  O! I have heard him speak of that same brother;   
And he did render him the most unnatural [unfriendly; domineering]
That liv’d ’mongst men.   
OLIVER: And well he might so do,            100
For well I know he was unnatural.   
ROSALIND:  But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,   
Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness?   
OLIVER:  Twice did he turn his back and purpos’d so;   
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,            105
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.   
CELIA:  Are you his brother?            110
ROSALIND:   Was it you he rescu’d?   
CELIA:  Was ’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?   
OLIVER:  ’Twas I; but ’tis not I. I do not shame   
To tell you what I was, since my conversion   
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.            115
ROSALIND:  But, for the bloody napkin?   
OLIVER:  By and by.   
When from the first to last, betwixt [between] us two,   
Tears our recountments [encounter] had most kindly bath’d,   
As how I came into that desert place:—            120
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            125
The lioness had torn some flesh away,   
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,   
And cried, in fainting, upon [about] Rosalind.   
Brief, I recover’d him, bound up his wound;   
And, after some small space [time], being strong at heart,            130
He sent me hither [here], 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.            135
CELIA:  [ROSALIND swoons.]  Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!   
OLIVER:  Many will swoon when they do look on blood.   
CELIA:  There is more in it. Cousin! Ganymede!   
OLIVER:  Look, he recovers.   
ROSALIND:  I would I were at home.            140
CELIA:   We’ll lead you thither [there].   
I pray you, will you take him by the arm?   
OLIVER:  Be of good cheer, youth. You a man!   
You lack a man’s heart.   
ROSALIND:  I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah! a body would think this was well counterfeited [pretended; faked]. I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!            145
OLIVER:  This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.   
ROSALIND:  Counterfeit [fake], I assure you.   
OLIVER:  Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.   
ROSALIND:  So I do; but, i’ faith, I should have been a woman by right.   
CELIA:  Come; you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.            150
OLIVER:  That will I, for I must bear answer back   
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  I shall devise something. But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?  [Exeunt.

Act 5, Scene 1

The forest of Arden.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and Audrey.

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

TOUCHSTONE:  It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth [in truth], we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be flouting [cracking jokes; making witticisms]; we cannot hold.    
Will.  Good even [evening], Audrey.    
AUDREY:  God ye good even, William [And God give you a good evening, William].            10
Will.  And good even to you, sir.    
TOUCHSTONE:  Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend?    
Will.  Five-and-twenty, sir.    
TOUCHSTONE:  A ripe age. Is thy name William?    
Will.  William, sir.            15
TOUCHSTONE:  A fair name. Wast born i’ the forest here?    
Will.  Ay, sir, I thank God.    
TOUCHSTONE:  ‘Thank God;’ a good answer. Art rich?    
Will.  Faith, sir, so so.    
TOUCHSTONE:  ‘So so,’ is good, very good, very excellent good: and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?            20
Will.  Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit [I'm smart].    
TOUCHSTONE:  Why, thou sayest 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?    
Will.  I do, sir.    
TOUCHSTONE:  Give me your hand. Art thou learned?    
Will.  No, sir.            25
TOUCHSTONE:  Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse [Latin for he] is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he.    
Will.  Which he, sir?    
TOUCHSTONE:  He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon,—which is in the vulgar, leave,—the society,—which in the boorish is, company,—of this female,—which in the common 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 [beating with a stick], or in steel [sword]; I will bandy with thee in faction [I will strike you with clever words or actions]; I will o’errun thee with policy [craftiness]; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble, and depart.    
AUDREY:  Do, good William.    
Will.  God rest you merry, sir.  [Exit.            30
Enter CORIN.

CORIN:  Our master and mistress seek you: come, away, away!    
TOUCHSTONE:  Trip [let's go], Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend [I hear you, I hear you].  [Exeunt.    

Act 5, Scene 2

Another part of the forest.

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 [persevere] to enjoy her?   
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 [Celia]; 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.   
ORLANDO:  You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke and all’s [all his] contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.            5

ROSALIND:  God save you, brother.   
OLIVER:  And you, fair sister.  [Exit.   
ROSALIND:  O! my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.   
ORLANDO:  It is my arm.            10
ROSALIND:  I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.   
ORLANDO:  Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.   
ROSALIND:  Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited [pretended] to swound [faint] when he showed me your handkercher?   
ORLANDO:  Ay, and greater wonders than that.   
ROSALIND:  O! I know where you are. Nay, ’tis true: there was never anything so sudden but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar’s thrasonical brag of ‘I came, saw, and overcame:’ for your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent [lacking sexual restraint], or else be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of love, and they will [be] together: clubs cannot part them.            15
[Line 15, thrasonical: Boastful. Thrasonical is derived from Thraso, the name of a boastful soldier in Eunuchus, a play by the Roman dramatist Terence (birth: between 195-185 BC; death: circa 59 BC)]
[Line 15, "I came . . . overcame": From the Latin "Veni, Vidi, Vici," usually translated as "I came, I saw, I conquered." Julius Caesar is said to have written the words in a letter to the Roman senate after a military victory at Zela, now called Zile, in present-day northern Turkey.]
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.   
ROSALIND:  Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? [Then I can no longer pretend to be Rosalind?]  
ORLANDO:  I can live no longer by thinking.   
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 [intelligence; brains]. 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 years old, conversed 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.   
ORLANDO:  Speakest thou in sober meanings?            20
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. Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.   

PHEBE:  Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,   
To show the letter that I writ to you.   
ROSALIND:  I care not if I have: it is my study            25
To seem despiteful [spiteful] and ungentle to you.   
You are there follow’d by a faithful shepherd:   
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.   
PHEBE:  Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love.   
SILVIUS:  It is to be all made of sighs and tears;            30
And so am I for Phebe.   
PHEBE:  And I for Ganymede.   
ORLANDO:  And I for Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  And I for no woman.   
SILVIUS:  It is to be all made of faith and service;            35
And so am I for Phebe.   
PHEBE:  And I for Ganymede.   
ORLANDO:  And I for Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  And I for no woman.   
SILVIUS:  It is to be all made of fantasy,            40
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 obeisance;  [duty; obedience]
And so am I for Phebe.            45
PHEBE:  And so am I for Ganymede.   
ORLANDO:  And so am I for Rosalind.   
ROSALIND:  And so am I for no woman.   
PHEBE:  [To ROSALIND.]  If this be so, why blame you me to love you?   
SILVIUS:  [To PHEBE]  If this be so, why blame you me to love you?            50
ORLANDO:  If this be so, why blame you me to love you?   
ROSALIND:  Who do you speak to, ‘Why blame you me to love you?’   
ORLANDO:  To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.   
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.   
SILVIUS:  I’ll not fail, if I live.            55
PHEBE:  Nor I.   
ORLANDO:  Nor I.  [Exeunt.   

Act 5, Scene 3

The forest.

TOUCHSTONE:  To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be married.   
AUDREY:  I do desire it with all my heart, and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come two of the banished duke’s pages.   
Enter two Pages.         5

First Page.  Well met, honest gentleman.   
TOUCHSTONE:  By my troth, well met [Truly well met]. Come, sit, sit, and a song.   
Sec. Page.  We are for you: sit i’ the middle.   
First Page.  Shall we clap into ’t roundly [go right into it], without hawking [clearing the throat] or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to [warnings for] a bad voice?   
Sec. Page.  I’ faith, i’ faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse.            10
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 [time for ringing bells],
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 [love is at its best]
  In the spring time, &c.
TOUCHSTONE:  Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.   
First Page.  You are deceived, sir: we kept time; we lost not our time.   
TOUCHSTONE:  By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi’ you; and God mend your voices! Come, Audrey.  [Exeunt.   

Act 5, Scene 4

Another part of the forest.

DUKE SENIOR:  Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy   
Can do all this that he hath promised?   
ORLANDO:  I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not;            5
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.   

ROSALIND:  Patience once more, whiles our compact [arrangement; agreement] is urg’d.   
[To the DUKE.]  You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,   
You will bestow her on Orlando here?            10
DUKE SENIOR:  That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.   
ROSALIND:  [To ORLANDO.]  And you say, you will have her when I bring her?   
ORLANDO:  That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.   
ROSALIND:  [To PHEBE.]  You say, that you’ll marry me, if I be willing?   
PHEBE:  That will I, should I die the hour after.            15
ROSALIND:  But if you do refuse to marry me,   
You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?   
PHEBE:  So is the bargain.   
ROSALIND:  [To SILVIUS.]  You say, that you’ll have Phebe, if she will?   
SILVIUS:  Though to have her and death were both one thing.            20
ROSALIND:  I have promis’d to make all this matter even [everyone's wishes come true].   
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;            25
Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her,   
If she refuse me: and from hence I go,   
To make these doubts all even [to explain what's going on; to make all the doubts unfounded].  [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.   
DUKE SENIOR:  I do remember in this shepherd boy   
Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour [touches like those of my daughter].            30
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,            35
Whom he reports to be a great magician,   
Obscured in the circle of this forest.   

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 called fools.   
TOUCHSTONE:  Salutation and greeting to you all!            40
JAQUES:  Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman [man with the mind and demeanor of a court jester] that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier [a jester at court], he swears.   
TOUCHSTONE:  If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation [trial that would reveal the truth]. I have trod a measure [danced, as at court]; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic [prudent; polite] with my friend, smooth [calmly shrewd] with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors [put three tailors out of business]; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one [and came near to fighting in one quarrel].   
JAQUES:  And how was that ta’en up?   
TOUCHSTONE:  Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.   
JAQUES:  How seventh cause? [What's the seventh cause?] Good my lord, like this fellow. [Good Duke Senior, do you like this fellow?]           45
DUKE SENIOR:  I like him very well.   
TOUCHSTONE:  God ’ild [bless; reward] you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives [couples wishing to marry and sleep together], to swear, and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own: a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that no man else will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house, as your pearl in your foul oyster.   
DUKE SENIOR:  By my faith, he is very swift and sententious [given to coining proverbs].   
TOUCHSTONE:  According to the fool’s bolt [arrow; sharpness of wit], sir, and such dulcet diseases [such other sweet failings that afflict me].   
JAQUES:  But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?            50
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 called ‘the retort courteous.’ If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the ‘quip modest.’ If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: this is called the ‘reply churlish.’ If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the ‘reproof valiant:’ if again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: this is called the ‘countercheck quarrelsome’: and so to the ‘lie circumstantial,’ [indirect; roundabout] and the ‘lie direct.’   
JAQUES:  And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?   
TOUCHSTONE:  I durst go no further than the ‘lie circumstantial,’ nor he durst not give me the ‘lie direct;’ and so we measured swords and parted.   
JAQUES:  Can you nominate [recite; name] in order now the degrees of the lie?   
TOUCHSTONE:  O sir, we quarrel in print; by the book, as you have books for good manners: I will name you 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.’            55
JAQUES:  Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he’s as good at any thing, and yet a fool.   
DUKE SENIOR:  He uses his folly like a stalkinghorse [decoy; real or fake horse used as cover to stalk game], and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.   
Enter HYMEN, leading ROSALIND in woman’s clothes, and CELIA.
[Hymen: God of marriage in ancient Greek and Roman mythology]
Still [quiet; soft] Music.
HYMEN:  Then is there mirth in heaven,            60
      When earthly things made even
          Atone together.   
[When . . . together: When earthly beings resolve their differences and join together]
      Good duke, receive thy daughter;   
      Hymen from heaven brought her;   
          Yea, brought her hither [here],            65
      That thou mightst join her hand with his,   
        Whose heart within her bosom is.   
ROSALIND:  [To DUKE S.]  To you I give myself, for I am yours.   
[To ORLANDO.]  To you I give myself, for I am yours.   
DUKE SENIOR:  If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.            70
ORLANDO:  If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.   
PHEBE:  If sight and shape be true,   
Why then, my love adieu! [My love for the man she played in disguise is gone.]  
ROSALIND:  [To DUKE S.]  I’ll have no father, if you be not he.   
[To ORLANDO.]  I’ll have no husband, if you be not he:            75
[To PHEBE.]  Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she.   
HYMEN:  Peace, ho! I bar confusion:   
      ’Tis I must make conclusion   
          Of these most strange events:   
      Here’s eight that must take hands            80
      To join in Hymen’s bands,   
          If truth holds true contents.   
[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND.]  You and you no cross shall part:   
[To OLIVER and CELIA.]  You and you are heart in heart:   
[To PHEBE.]  You to his love must accord,            85
Or have a woman to your lord:   
[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.]  You and you are sure together,   
    As the winter to foul weather.   
    Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,   
    Feed yourselves with questioning,            90
    That reason wonder may diminish [that reason may diminish your wonderment or confusion],   
    How thus we met, and these things finish.   
Wedding is great Juno’s crown:
[Juno: In ancient myth, Roman name for the queen of the gods. Her Greek name was Hera.]
      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!
DUKE SENIOR:  O my dear niece! welcome thou art to me:   
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.            95
PHEBE:  [To SILVIUS.]  I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;   
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.   

JAQUES DE BOYS:  Let me have audience for a word or two:   
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,            100
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 [raised a mighty army], which were on foot   
In his own conduct [with him leading], purposely to take            105
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;            110
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.   
DUKE SENIOR: Welcome, young man;            115
Thou offer’st fairly [your tidings are a welcome gift] 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;            120
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,            125
And fall into our rustic revelry.   
Play, music! and you, brides and bridegrooms all,   
With measure heap’d in joy, to the measures fall.   
JAQUES:  Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,   
The duke hath put on a religious life,            130
And thrown into neglect the pompous court?   
JAQUES DE BOYS:  He hath.   
JAQUES:  To him will I [will I go]: out of these convertites [from converts to the religious life]
There is much matter to be heard and learn’d.   
[To DUKE S.]  You to your former honour I bequeath;            135
Your patience and your virtue well deserve 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            140
Is but for two months victual’d [is supplied with only enough food for two months]. So, to your pleasures:   
I am for other than for dancing measures.   
DUKE SENIOR:  Stay, Jaques, stay.   
JAQUES:  To see no pastime, I: what you would have   
I’ll stay to know at your abandon’d cave.  [Exit.            145
DUKE SENIOR:  Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,   
As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights.  [A dance. Exeunt.   



It is not the fashion to see the lady [reciting] 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 [a bush or part of a bush was once used in front of a wine shop to attract customers) , ’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 furnished 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 simpering none of you hate them,—that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths 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.  [Exeunt.   

Work Cited

G. B. Harrison, ed. Shakespeare: the Complete Works. New York: Harcourt,  1952.