As You Like It
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 of cattle;
to be bawd to a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth
to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If
thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no
shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape.
Enter Rosalind as Ganymede.
CORIN.
Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother.
ROSALIND.
[_Reads_.]
_From the east to western Inde
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind
But the fair of Rosalind._
TOUCHSTONE.
I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and
sleeping hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s rank to market.
ROSALIND.
Out, fool!
TOUCHSTONE.
For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
Winter garments must be lined,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind,
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you infect yourself
with them?
ROSALIND.
Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.
TOUCHSTONE.
Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
ROSALIND.
I’ll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then
it will be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten ere
you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar.
TOUCHSTONE.
You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.
Enter Celia as Aliena, reading a paper.
ROSALIND.
Peace, here comes my sister, reading. Stand aside.
CELIA.
[_Reads_.]
_Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No!
Tongues I’ll hang on every tree
That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the streching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some, of violated vows
’Twixt the souls of friend and friend.
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence’ end,
Will I “Rosalinda” write,
Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled
With all graces wide-enlarged.
Nature presently distilled
Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra’s majesty;
Atalanta’s better part,
Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised,
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts
To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave._
ROSALIND.
O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied
your parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!”
CELIA.
How now! Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah.
TOUCHSTONE.
Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat, though not with bag
and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
[_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 than the verses would bear.
CELIA.
That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses.
ROSALIND.
Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the
verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
CELIA.
But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and
carved upon these trees?
ROSALIND.
I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for
look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so berhymed since
Pythagoras’ time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
CELIA.
Trow you who hath done this?
ROSALIND.
Is it a man?
CELIA.
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.
ROSALIND.
Nay, but who is it?
CELIA.
Is it possible?
ROSALIND.
Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
CELIA.
O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet again
wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!
ROSALIND.
Good my complexion! Dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a
man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay
more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee tell me who is it quickly,
and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour
this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of
narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at once or none at all. I prithee
take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.
CELIA.
So you may put a man in your belly.
ROSALIND.
Is he of God’s making? What manner of 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.
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 saw’st 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.
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 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.
CELIA.
There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight.
ROSALIND.
Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
CELIA.
Cry “holla!” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was
furnished like a hunter.
ROSALIND.
O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart.
CELIA.
I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune.
ROSALIND.
Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say
on.
Enter Orlando and Jaques.
CELIA.
You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?
ROSALIND.
’Tis he! Slink by, and note him.
[_Rosalind and Celia step aside._]
JAQUES.
I thank you for your company but, good faith, I had as lief have been
myself alone.
ORLANDO.
And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your
society.
JAQUES.
God be wi’ you, let’s meet as little as we can.
ORLANDO.
I do desire we may be better strangers.
JAQUES.
I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.
ORLANDO.
I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
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?
ORLANDO.
Just as high as my heart.
JAQUES.
You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with
goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings?
ORLANDO.
Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have
studied your questions.
JAQUES.
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 in the world but myself, against whom I know
most faults.
JAQUES.
The worst fault you have is to be in love.
ORLANDO.
’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.
JAQUES.
By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.
ORLANDO.
He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him.
JAQUES.
There I shall see mine own figure.
ORLANDO.
Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
JAQUES.
I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love.
ORLANDO.
I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.
[_Exit Jaques.—Celia and Rosalind come forward._]
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?
ROSALIND.
I pray you, what is’t o’clock?
ORLANDO.
You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s no clock in the forest.
ROSALIND.
Then there is no true lover in the forest, else 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 paces with divers persons.
I’ll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time
gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
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, 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?
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.
ORLANDO.
Are you native of this place?
ROSALIND.
As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled.
ORLANDO.
Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a
dwelling.
ROSALIND.