Read As You Like It (Folger Shakespeare Library) Page 9


  giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for nothing,

  like Diana in the fountain133, and I will do that when you are

  disposed to be merry. I will laugh like a hyena, and that when

  thou art inclined to sleep.

  ORLANDO But will my Rosalind do so?

  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 to do this: the

  wiser, the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's wit140

  and it will out at the casement141. Shut that and 'twill out at the

  key-hole. Stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the

  chimney.

  ORLANDO A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say

  'Wit, whither wilt?'145

  ROSALIND Nay, you might keep that check146 for it till you met

  your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

  ORLANDO And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

  ROSALIND Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall

  never take150 her without her answer, unless you take her

  without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her

  fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse152 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.

  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 one160

  cast away, and so, come, death! Two o'clock is your hour?

  ORLANDO Ay, sweet Rosalind.

  ROSALIND By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend

  me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you

  break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind165

  your hour, I will think you the most pathetical166 break—

  promise and the most hollow lover and the most unworthy of

  her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross168

  band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure169 and

  keep your promise.

  ORLANDO With no less religion171 than if thou wert indeed my

  Rosalind: so adieu.

  ROSALIND Well, time is the old justice that examines all such

  offenders, and let time try174. Adieu.

  Exit [Orlando]

  CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate175:

  we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head,

  and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest177.

  ROSALIND O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst

  know how many fathom179 deep I am in love! But it cannot be

  sounded180: 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 Venus184 that was

  begot of thought, conceived of spleen185 and born of madness,

  that blind rascally boy that abuses186 everyone's eyes because

  his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll

  tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll

  go find a shadow189 and sigh till he come.

  CELIA And I'll sleep.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 2

  running scene 10

  Enter Jaques and Lords [as] 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 branch5 of victory. Have you no song, forester,

  for this purpose?

  SECOND LORD Yes, sir.

  JAQUES Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make

  noise enough.

  Music, song

  LORDS What shall he have that killed the deer?

  His leather skin and horns to wear.

  Then sing him home,

  The rest shall bear this burden13:

  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 lusty18 horn,

  Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 3

  running scene 11

  Enter Rosalind and Celia

  ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? And

  here much Orlando2!

  CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he

  hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep.

  With a letter

  Enter Silvius

  Look, who comes here.

  To Rosalind

  SILVIUS My errand is to you, fair youth.

  My gentle Phoebe bid me give you this:

  I know not the contents, but -- as I guess

  By the stern brow and waspish9 action

  Which she did use10 as she was writing of it --

  It bears an angry tenor; pardon me,

  I am but as a guiltless messenger.

  Reads letter

  ROSALIND Patience herself would startle at this letter

  And play the swaggerer14. Bear this, bear all:

  She says I am not fair, that I lack manners.

  She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,

  Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's17 my will!

  Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.

  Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,

  This is a letter of your own device20.

  SILVIUS No, I protest21, I know not the contents.

  Phoebe did write it.

  ROSALIND Come, come, you are a fool

  And turned into the extremity of love.

  I saw her hand. She has a leathern25 hand,

  A freestone-coloured hand. I verily26 did think

  That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands.

  She has a huswife's28 hand, but that's no matter:

  I say she never did invent this letter,

  This is a man's invention and his hand30.

  SILVIUS Sure, it is hers.

  ROSALIND Why, 'tis a boisterous32 and a cruel style.

  A style for challengers. Why, she defies me,

  Like Turk to Christian. Women's gentle brain

  Could not drop forth such giant-rude35 invention,

  Such Ethiope36 words, blacker in their effect

  Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?

  SILVIUS So please you, for I never heard it yet,

  Yet heard too much of Phoebe's cruelty.

  ROSALIND She Phoebes40 me. Mark how the tyrant writes:

  Read

  'Art thou god to shepherd turned,

  That a maiden's heart hath burned?'

  Can a woman rail thus?

  SILVIUS Call you this railing?

  Read

  ROSALIND 'Why, thy godhead laid apart45,

  Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?'

  Did you ever hear such railing?

  'Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

  That could do no vengeance49 to me.'

  Meaning me a beast.

  'If the scorn of your bright eyne51

  Have power to raise such love in mine,

  Alack, in me what strange effect

  Would they work in mild aspect54!

  Whiles you ch
id me, I did love.

  How then might your prayers56 move!

  He that brings this love to thee

  Little knows this love in me;

  And by him seal up thy mind59,

  Whether that thy youth and kind60

  Will the faithful offer take

  Of me and all that I can make62,

  Or else by him my love deny,

  And then I'll study how to die.'

  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 instrument68 and

  play false strains69 upon thee? Not to be endured! Well, go your

  way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake70, and

  say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to love thee.

  If she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for

  her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word, for here

  comes more company.

  Exit Silvius

  Enter Oliver

  OLIVER Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,

  Where in the purlieus76 of this forest stands

  A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees?

  CELIA West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom78.

  The rank of osiers79 by the murmuring stream

  Left80 on your right hand brings you to the place.

  But at this hour the house doth keep itself,

  There's none within.

  OLIVER If that an eye may profit by a tongue,

  Then should I know you by description,

  Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair,

  Of female favour, and bestows86 himself

  Like a ripe sister. The woman low87

  And browner than her brother.' Are not you

  The owner of the house I did inquire for?

  CELIA It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.

  OLIVER Orlando doth commend him91 to you both,

  And to that youth he calls his Rosalind

  Shows bloody handkerchief

  He sends this bloody napkin93. Are you he?

  ROSALIND I am. What must we understand by this?

  OLIVER Some of my shame, if you will know of me

  What man I am, and how, and why, and where

  This handkercher97 was stained.

  CELIA I pray you tell it.

  OLIVER When last the young Orlando parted from you,

  He left a promise to return again

  Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,

  Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy102,

  Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside,

  And mark what object did present itself:

  Und'r an old oak, whose boughs were mossed with age

  And high top bald106 with dry antiquity,

  A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,

  Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck

  A green and gilded109 snake had wreathed itself,

  Who with her head nimble in threats approached

  The opening of his mouth. But suddenly,

  Seeing Orlando, it unlinked112 itself,

  And with indented113 glides did slip away

  Into a bush, under which bush's shade

  A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

  Lay couching116, head on ground, with catlike watch

  When that117 the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis

  The royal disposition of that beast

  To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.

  This seen, Orlando did approach the man

  And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

  CELIA O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,

  And he did render him123 the most unnatural

  That lived amongst men.

  OLIVER And well he might so do,

  For well I know he was unnatural.

  ROSALIND But to127 Orlando: did he leave him there,

  Food to the sucked and hungry lioness?

  OLIVER Twice did he turn his back and purposed so,

  But kindness130, nobler ever than revenge,

  And nature, stronger than his just occasion131,

  Made him give battle to the lioness,

  Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling133

  From miserable slumber I awaked.

  CELIA Are you his brother?

  ROSALIND Was't you he rescued?

  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.

  ROSALIND But, for141 the bloody napkin?

  OLIVER By and by.

  When from the first to last betwixt us two,

  Tears our recountments had most kindly144 bathed,

  As how I came into that desert place:

  In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,

  Who gave me fresh array and entertainment147,

  Committing me unto my brother's love,

  Who led me instantly unto his cave,

  There stripped himself, and here upon his arm

  The lioness had torn some flesh away,

  Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted

  And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.

  Brief, I recovered154 him, bound up his wound,

  And after some small space155, being strong at heart,

  He sent me hither, stranger as I am,

  To tell this story, that you might excuse

  His broken promise, and to give this napkin,

  Dyed in this blood, unto the shepherd youth

  Rosalind faints

  That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

  CELIA 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.

  CELIA We'll lead you thither.-- I pray you, will you take

  They get Rosalind to her feet

  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 body170 would think

  this was well counterfeited! I pray you tell your brother how

  well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!

  OLIVER This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony

  in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest174.

  ROSALIND Counterfeit, 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.

  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

  running scene 11 continues

  Enter Clown [Touchstone] and Audrey

  TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey. Patience, gentle

  Audrey.

  AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old3

  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.

  AUDREY Ay, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in8 me in the

  world. Here comes the man you mean.

  Enter William

  TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to se
e a clown10. By my

  troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for. We

  shall be flouting: we cannot hold12.

  WILLIAM Good ev'n, Audrey.

  AUDREY God ye14 good ev'n, William.

  WILLIAM And good ev'n to you, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head16, cover

  thy head. Nay, prithee be covered. How old are you, friend?

  WILLIAM Five and twenty, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William?

  WILLIAM William, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i'th'forest here?

  WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God.

  TOUCHSTONE 'Thank God'. A good23 answer. Art rich?

  WILLIAM Faith, sir, so-so.

  TOUCHSTONE 'So-so' is good, very good, very excellent good.

  And yet it is not, it is but so-so. Art thou wise?

  WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

  TOUCHSTONE 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?

  WILLIAM I do, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned35?

  WILLIAM No, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE Then learn this of me: to have is to have, for it is a

  figure38 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 ipse40 is he. Now, you are not ipse, for I

  am he.

  WILLIAM Which he, sir?

  TOUCHSTONE He, sir, that must marry this woman: therefore,

  you clown, abandon -- which is in the vulgar44 'leave' -- the

  society -- which in the boorish45 is 'company' -- of this

  female -- which in the common46 is 'woman', which together

  is: abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou

  perishest. Or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit48, I

  kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy

  liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in

  bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction51; I will

  o'errun thee with policy52. I will kill thee a hundred and fifty

  ways: therefore tremble and depart.

  AUDREY Do, good William.

  WILLIAM God rest55 you merry, sir.

  Exit

  Enter Corin

  CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you. Come, away,

  away!

  TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey.-- I attend58, I attend.

  Exeunt

  Act 5 Scene 2

  running scene 11 continues

  Enter Orlando and Oliver

  Orlando with his arm in a sling

  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 persever4 to enjoy her?