As You Like It in Modern English

This is a modern-English version of As You Like It, originally written by Shakespeare, William. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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As you Like it

As You Like It

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Scene One. Act One.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to auoid it. Enter Oliuer.

Orlando. As I remember Adam, this was the way it was left to me in the will, but I got only a thousand crowns, and as you said, my brother was instructed to raise me well: and that’s where my sadness starts. My brother Jaques is at school, and people say he’s doing wonderfully there; but as for me, he keeps me stuck at home, or to put it more accurately, he leaves me here unrefined: can you really call that raising a gentleman of my background, when it’s no different from keeping an ox in a stall? His horses are raised better—on top of being well-fed, they’re trained properly, with riders hired for that purpose; but I (his brother) gain nothing from him but the growth of my body, which his animals on his dung heaps are as much indebted to him for as I am. Besides that, whatever he generously gives me, it seems to take away from what nature gave me. He lets me eat with his servants, takes away my place as a brother, and does everything he can to undermine my gentility through my upbringing. This is what troubles me, Adam, and the spirit of my father, which I believe is within me, is starting to rebel against this servitude. I can’t endure it any longer, even though I still don’t know a wise way to get out of it. Enter Oliver.

Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother

Adam. Here comes my Master, your brother.

Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp

Orlan. Go aside, Adam, and you'll hear how
he will stir me up

Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing

Oli. So, what brings you here?
Orl. Nothing: I wasn't taught to do anything.

Oli. What mar you then sir?
Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse

Oli. What are you doing then, sir?
Orl. Well, sir, I'm helping you ruin what
God created, a poor unworthy brother of yours with
laziness.

Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while

Oliuer. Seriously, man, focus on something better, and don't
waste time for a bit.

   Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
  Oli. Know you where you are sir?
  Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard

Orlan. Should I take care of your pigs and eat scraps with them? What a waste I've made to end up in such poverty? Oli. Do you know where you are, sir? Orl. Oh yes, sir, very well: I'm here in your orchard.

Oli. Know you before whom sir? Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud, were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming before me is neerer to his reuerence

Oli. Do you know who you’re talking to, sir? Orl. I know who I am in front of; it's better than he does. I know you’re my older brother, and by blood, you should recognize me as such. Courtesy among nations grants you the title of my better since you’re the firstborn, but that tradition doesn’t change my blood, even if there were twenty brothers between us. I have just as much of our father in me as you do, although I admit that your being born before me gives you a closer connection to his respect.

Oli. What Boy

Oli. What a Guy

Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this

Orl. Come on, older brother, you're too young for this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine? Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying so, thou hast raild on thy selfe

Oli. Are you going to attack me, you villain? Orl. I’m not a villain. I’m the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he’s my father, and anyone who says a father like that would raise villains is a real villain themselves. If you weren’t my brother, I wouldn’t let go of your throat until my other hand pulled out your tongue for saying that—you’re insulting yourself.

Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers remembrance, be at accord

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient for the sake of your father's memory; let’s be in agreement.

Oli. Let me goe I say

Oli. Let me go, I said.

Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my fortunes

Orl. I won't wait until I'm ready: you will hear me: my father ordered you in his will to give me a good education. You've treated me like a peasant, hiding all the qualities of a gentleman from me. The spirit of my father is strong in me, and I won’t put up with this any longer. So let me engage in activities that befit a gentleman, or give me the small inheritance my father left me in his will; with that, I will go and make my own fortune.

Oli. 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 haue some part of your will, I pray you leaue me

Oli. And what are you going to do? Beg when that runs out? Alright, sir, go on in. I won't put up with you much longer: you'll get some of what you want, just please leave me alone.

Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee for my good

Orl. I won’t upset you anymore, then it’s better for me.

Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge

Oli. Go hang out with him, you old dog.

Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such a word.

Adam. Is old dog my reward: most true, I have lost my teeth in your service: God be with my old master, he would not have said such a thing.

Ex. Orl. Ad.

Orlando Advertiser

Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis. Enter Dennis.

Oli. Is it really happening? Are you starting to grow on me? I’ll cure your roughness without spending a thousand crowns: hey, Dennis. Enter Dennis.

  Den. Calls your worship?
  Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
  Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you

Den. Calls your worship?
Oli. Wasn't Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to
talk to me?
Den. If it pleases you, he's here at the door, and he's
asking to see you.

Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.

Oli. Have him come in: it’ll be a good idea; tomorrow
is the wrestling match.
Enter Charles.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship

Cha. Good morning to you, your honor.

Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes at the new Court? Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he giues them good leaue to wander

Oli. Good morning, Monsieur Charles: what's the latest news at the new Court? Charles. There's no news at the Court, sir, just the same old story: the old Duke has been banished by his younger brother, the new Duke, and three or four loyal lords have chosen to go into voluntary exile with him. Their lands and income benefit the new Duke, so he allows them to wander freely.

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banished with her Father? Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies loued as they doe

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, was banished along with her father? Cha. Oh no; because the Duke's daughter, her cousin loves her so much, having been raised together since they were babies, that he would have followed her into exile or died to stay with her. She's at court and just as beloved by her uncle as his own daughter, and never have two ladies loved each other as they do.

Oli. Where will the old Duke liue? Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world

Oli. Where is the old Duke living? Cha. They say he’s already in the Forest of Arden, and a lot of merry men are with him; they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen join him every day and spend their time carelessly like they did in the golden age.

Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke

Oli. What, you're wrestling tomorrow before the new
Duke

Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search, and altogether against my will

Cha. I’m getting married, sir, and I came to tell you something: I’ve been secretly informed that your younger brother Orlando is planning to come disguised to challenge me to a fight. Tomorrow, sir, I’ll be wrestling for my reputation, and anyone who escapes me without injury is doing well. Your brother is still young and inexperienced, and for your sake, I would hate to hurt him, but I must defend my honor if he shows up. So, out of my respect for you, I came to let you know, so you can either stop him from going through with it or handle the shame he’ll face, since this is all his own decision and completely against my wishes.

Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder

Oli. Charles, I really appreciate your love for me, and you’ll see that I’ll return it wholeheartedly. I was aware of my brother’s intention in this matter and have tried to subtly dissuade him from it; but he is set on his course. I’ll tell you, Charles, he’s the most stubborn young guy in France, filled with ambition, envious of everyone’s good qualities, and secretly plotting against me, his own brother. So, be careful. I’d just as soon you broke his neck as his finger. You’d better watch out; if you give him any slight disrespect, or if he doesn’t manage to impress you, he’ll scheme against you with poison, trap you with some treacherous plan, and never stop until he’s taken your life by some sneaky means or another. I assure you (and I speak almost in tears) that there’s no one so young and so villainous alive today. I’m speaking as a brother here, but if I were to describe him to you as he truly is, I’d have to blush and cry, and you’d be left pale and in shock.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship. Enter.

Cha. I'm really glad I came to see you: if he comes tomorrow, I'll give him his payment: if he ever goes alone again, I'll never wrestle for a prize again: and so God keep you. Enter.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now Ile goe about. Enter.

Farewell, good Charles. Now I’ll stir up this player: I hope to see the end of him; for some reason (though I don’t know why) I hate him more than anything else. Yet he’s kind, never really schooled, but still knowledgeable, full of noble plans, charmingly loved by all sorts of people, and truly holds a special place in the hearts of the world, especially among my own people who know him best, that I’m completely misunderstood. But it won’t be for long; this wrestler will clarify everything. All that’s left is for me to send the boy there, which I’ll go do now. *Enter.*

Scoena Secunda.

Scene Two.

Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry

Cel. I’m begging you, Rosalind, my sweet cousin, cheer up.

Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure

Ros. Dear Celia; I show more happiness than I really feel, and I wish you were even happier: unless you can teach me to forget my banished father, you shouldn't try to teach me how to remember any special joy.

Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee

Cel. I can see that you don't love me as deeply as I love you. If my uncle, your banished father, had exiled my uncle, the Duke—my father—you would still be with me. I could have learned to accept your father as my own, just as you would have if your love for me was as genuine and balanced as my love for you.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to reioyce in yours

Ros. Well, I’ll forget about my own situation to take joy in yours.

Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry

Cel. You know my father has no child but me, and he’s not likely to have any more. Honestly, when he dies, you’ll be his heir because everything he took from your father by force, I will give back to you out of love. I swear it on my honor, and if I break that oath, let me become a monster. So, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be happy.

Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue? Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off againe

Ros. From now on, I’ll take charge, Cousin, and come up with some fun ideas: let’s see, what do you think about falling in love? Cel. I beg you, do it for fun! But don’t actually love any man seriously, and don’t even do it for fun unless you can walk away from it with your dignity intact.

Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally

Ros. What should we do for fun then?
Cel. Let's sit and tease good old Fortune
and her wheel, so that from now on her gifts can be
given out equally.

Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women

Ros. I wish we could do that: because her benefits are seriously misplaced, and the generous blind woman definitely makes mistakes in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly

Cel. It's true, for those she makes beautiful, she hardly makes honest, and those she makes honest, she makes very unattractive.

Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.

Ros. No, now you're moving from Fortune's role to Nature's:
Fortune rules in worldly gifts, not in the
features of Nature.
Enter Clowne.

Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this foole to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte

Cel. No; when Nature has created a beautiful being, can't she accidentally end up in trouble? Even though nature has given us the wisdom to mock fate, hasn't fate sent in this fool to derail the conversation? Ros. Indeed, there are times when fate is stronger than nature, especially when fate turns natural behavior into the enemy of nature's wisdom.

Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander you? Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father

Cel. Perhaps this isn't Fortune's doing, but Nature's, who sees our natural minds are too dull to think about such goddesses, has sent this Natural to sharpen us: because the dullness of the fool is always the sharpening stone for the clever. So, Wit, where are you wandering off to? Clow. Mistress, you need to come back to your father.

   Cel. Were you made the messenger?
  Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
  Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
  Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne

Cel. Were you sent to deliver a message?
  Clo. No, I swear on my honor, but I was asked to come for you.
  Ros. Who taught you that oath, you fool?
  Clo. A certain knight who swore by his honor that the pancakes were good, and swore by his honor that the mustard was bad. Now I’ll stand by it: the pancakes were bad, and the mustard was good, and yet the knight wasn’t lying.

Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome

Cel. How do you prove that in the vast amount of your
knowledge?
Ros. Well, now reveal your wisdom.

Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue

Clo. Come on, both of you: scratch your chins,
and swear by your beards that I'm a villain

Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art

Cel. By our beards (if we had them) you are

Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard

Clo. Honestly (if I had it) then I would be: but if you swear by something that doesn't exist, you're not really lying: just like this knight swearing by his Honor, because he never had any; or if he did, he would have sworn it away before he ever saw those Pancakes or that Mustard.

Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues

Cel. Please, who are you talking about?
Clo. Someone that your father, old Frederick, loves

Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one of these daies

Ros. My father's love is enough to honor him; don't say any more about him, you'll get in trouble for taxes one of these days.

Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely, what Wisemen do foolishly

Clo. It's a shame that fools can't speak wisely, while wise people act foolishly.

Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur the Beu. Enter le Beau.

Cel. I swear you're right: Since the small amount of sense that fools have been quieted, the small foolishness that wise men have really stands out. Here comes Monsieur le Beu. Enter le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of newes

Ros. With his mouth full of news

Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their young

Cel. Which he will put on us, just like pigeons feed their young.

Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd

Ros. Then we'll be overwhelmed with news

Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport

Cel. All the better: we’ll be more marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what’s the news?
Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you’ve missed out on a lot of good fun

   Cel. Sport: of what colour?
  Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
  Ros. As wit and fortune will

Cel. Sport: what color?
Le Beu. What color, madam? How should I answer
you?
Ros. As wit and fortune allow.

Clo. Or as the destinies decrees

Clo. Or as destiny decides

Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell

Cel. Well said, that was over the top.

Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke

Clo. No, if I don't maintain my position

Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell

Ros. You're losing your old smell.

Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of

Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you about some great wrestling, which you've missed out on.

Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling

Ros. Yet tell us the way the wrestling went.

Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to performe it

Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning: and if it pleases your ladies, you may see the end, for the best is yet to come, and here where you are, they are about to perform it.

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried

Cel. Well, the beginning that's long gone and forgotten.

Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons

Le Beu. An old man approaches, followed by his three sons.

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale

Cel. I could connect this beginning with an old story.

Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence

Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent stature
and appearance

Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents

Ros. With bills on their necks: Let it be known to
all men by these presents

Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father, making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping

Le Beu. The oldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler, who quickly threw him and broke three of his ribs, leaving little hope for his survival. He then did the same to the second and the third. Over there, the poor old man, their father, mourns for them so tragically that everyone watching can’t help but weep along with him.

Ros. Alas

Ros. Oh no

Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
haue lost?
Le Beu. Why this that I speake of

Clo. But what’s the game, sir, that the ladies have missed?
Le Beu. Well, this is what I'm talking about.

Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport for Ladies

Clo. So men can get wiser every day. This is the first time I've ever heard that breaking ribs was fun for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee

Cel. Or I, I promise you

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin? Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to performe it

Ros. But is there anyone else who wants to see this broken music in his sides? Is there really another person who loves rib-breaking? Are we going to watch this wrestling, Cousin? Le Beu. You have to if you stay here because this is the place set for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay and see it.

Cel. Look, they are definitely coming. Let's stay and watch.

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

Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse

Duke. Come on, since the young man won't be persuaded
His own risk for his eagerness

Ros. Is yonder the man?
Le Beu. Euen he, Madam

Ros. Is that the guy over there?
Le Beu. Yes, that’s him, Ma’am

   Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
  Du. How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
  Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue

Cel. Oh no, he’s too young; still, he looks like he’ll do well.
Du. Well now, daughter and cousin:
Did you come here to watch the wrestling?
Ros. Yes, my Lord, if it’s okay, please let us stay.

Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can mooue him

Du. You won't take much pleasure in it; I can tell you there’s something strange about the guy. Out of compassion for the young challenger, I would like to dissuade him, but he won't be persuaded. Talk to him, ladies, and see if you can influence him.

Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu

Cel. Call him here, good Monsieur Le Beu.

Duke. Do so: Ile not be by

Duke. Go ahead: I won't be around.

Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals for you

Le Beu. Mr. Challenger, the princess is calling for you.

Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie

Orl. I treat them with all respect and duty

Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the
Wrastler?
Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength
of my youth

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the
Wrestler?
Orl. No, fair Princess: he is the general challenger,
I’m just here like everyone else, to test the strength
of my youth.

Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie, and giue ouer this attempt

Cel. Young man, you’re too confident for your age. You’ve seen firsthand how strong this guy is; if you could see yourself clearly or judge wisely, the fear of what you’re getting into would make you rethink your plan. For your own good, please prioritize your safety and back off from this venture.

Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that the wrastling might not go forward

Ros. Look, young sir, your reputation won’t be underestimated: we will make it our request to the Duke that the wrestling doesn’t take place.

Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall; wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better supplied, when I haue made it emptie

Orl. Please don’t punish me with your harsh thoughts; I admit I feel quite guilty for denying such a beautiful and excellent lady anything. But let your lovely eyes and kind wishes accompany me to my trial; if I’m defeated, the only one who should feel ashamed is someone who has never been gracious. If I’m killed, it will only be one more person who is willing to die. I won’t be doing my friends an injustice because I have none to grieve for me; the world won’t be harmed, as I have nothing in it. I only take up space in the world, which can be better filled once I’m gone.

Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were with you

Ros. The little strength I have, I wish it were with you.

Cel. And mine to eeke out hers

Cel. And mine to help hers

Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you

Ros. Farewell: I pray heaven I'm wrong about you.

Cel. Your hearts desires be with you

Cel. May your hearts' desires be with you.

Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
working

Char. Come on, where is this young guy who wants to lie with his mother earth? Orl. I'm here, sir, but he's got a more modest intention.

Duk. You shall trie but one fall

Duk. You will only try one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first

Cha. No, I assure you, Your Grace, you won't be able to convince him to go for a second, since he has been so strongly persuaded against a first.

Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not haue mockt me before: but come your waies

Orl. You mean to tease me later: you shouldn't have teased me earlier: but come on, let's go.

Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man

Ros. Now Hercules, may you be quick, young man.

Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow by the legge.

Cel. I wish I were invisible, so I could catch that strong guy by the leg.

Wrastle.

Wrestle.

Ros. Oh excellent yong man

Oh excellent young man

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who should downe.

Cel. If I had a lightning bolt in my eye, I could tell who should go down.

Shout.

Yell.

Duk. No more, no more

Duk. Enough is enough

Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd

Orl. Yes, I beg you, Your Grace, I am not feeling well yet.
breath'd

Duk. How do'st thou Charles?
Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord

Duk. How are you, Charles?
Le Beu. He can't speak, my Lord.

Duk. Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
de Boys

Duk. Take him away:
What is your name, young man?
Orl. Orlando, my Liege, the youngest son of Sir Roland
de Boys

Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else,
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him still mine enemie:
Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadst thou descended from another house:
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou had'st told me of another Father.

Duke. I wish you had been the son of someone else,
The world considered your father honorable,
But I found him to be my enemy:
You would have pleased me more with this action,
If you had come from a different family:
But take care, you are a brave young man,
I wish you had told me about another father.

Exit Duke.

Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke

Cel. If I were my father (Cousin), would I do this?
Orl. I am prouder to be Sir Roland's son,
His youngest son, and I wouldn't trade that title
To be the adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne,
I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he should thus haue ventur'd

Ros. My father loved Sir Roland like his own soul,
And everyone felt the same way my father did,
If I had known this young man was his son,
I would have shed tears to beg him,
Before he had taken such a risk.

Cel. Gentle Cosen,
Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him:
My Fathers rough and enuious disposition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd,
If you doe keepe your promises in loue;
But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise,
Your Mistris shall be happie

Cel. Gentle Cousin,
Let's go thank him and cheer him up:
My father's harsh and jealous nature
bothers me deeply: Sir, you have truly earned it,
If you keep your promises in love;
But just as you have surpassed all expectations,
Your mistress will be happy

Ros. Gentleman,
Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes.
Shall we goe Coze?
Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman

Ros. Hey there, man,
I’m in a bit of a tough spot: one who's out of luck
That could give more, but just doesn't have the means.
Shall we go, Cousin?
Cel. Yeah, take care, good sir

Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke

Orl. Can I not say, thank you? My better self
Is all thrown down, and what stands here
Is just a target, a completely lifeless block

Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemies

Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
I'll ask him what he wants: Did you call, sir?
Sir, you've wrestled well and defeated
More than just your enemies.

Cel. Will you goe Coze?
Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.
Enter.

Cel. Are you coming, Cousin?
Ros. I'm in! Take care.
Exit.

Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong?
I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.

Orl. What passion weighs on my tongue?
I can't speak to her, yet she urged conversation.
Enter Le Beu.

O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee

O poor Orlando! you're overthrown
Either by Charles or by something weaker that controls you

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you
To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd
High commendation, true applause, and loue;
Yet such is now the Dukes condition,
That he misconsters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of

Le Beu. Good Sir, I'm advising you as a friend
To leave this place; even though you have earned
High praise, true recognition, and love;
The Duke's current mood is such
That he misinterprets everything you’ve done:
The Duke is unpredictable; it's better for you
To understand this than for me to explain it.

Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wrastling?
Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praise her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake;
And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady
Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you

Orl. Thank you, sir. Can you tell me this,
Which of the two is the Duke's daughter,
Who was here at the wrestling?
Le Beu. Neither is his daughter, if we judge by their behavior,
But actually, the taller one is his daughter,
The other is the daughter of the banished Duke,
And she's being held here by her usurping uncle
To keep his daughter company, whose affections
Are more valuable than the natural bond of sisters:
But I can tell you, recently this Duke
Has taken offense against his gentle niece,
Based on no other reason,
Except that people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And I swear, his spite against the lady
Will soon break out: Sir, take care,
In a better world than this,
I will seek to know you better and love you more.

Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoake into the smother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rosaline.

Orl. I'm really grateful to you: take care.
I must leave the smoke for the fire,
From the tyrant Duke to a tyrant Brother.
But heavenly Rosaline.

Exit

Leave

Scena Tertius.

Scene Three.

Enter Celia and Rosaline.

Celia and Rosaline enter.

Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog

Cel. Why cousin, why Rosaline: Cupid have mercy,
Not a word?
Ros. Not a single one to toss at a dog

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons

Cel. No, your words are too valuable to waste on curses; throw some of them at me; come on, hurt me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any

Ros. Then there were two cousins set aside, with one supposed to be hobbled by logic, while the other was crazy without reason.

Cel. But is all this for your Father?
Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world

Cel. But is all this for your dad?
Ros. No, some of it is for my child's dad: Oh
how full of thorns is this working day world

Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates will catch them

Cel. They are just a nuisance, Cousin, thrown at you during holiday silliness. If we don't stick to the well-worn paths, even our petticoats will get caught on them.

Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are in my heart

Ros. I could brush them off my coat; these burrs are stuck in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away

Cel. Get rid of them

Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him

Ros. I would try if I could cry "him" and have him

Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections

Cel. Come on, wrestle with your feelings

Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe

Ros. Oh, they act like they're better wrestlers than I am.

Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne? Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie

Cel. Oh, I wish you well: you will find out in time, despite a setback: but putting these jokes aside, let's talk seriously: Is it really possible that you could suddenly like old Sir Rouland's youngest son so much? Ros. My father, the Duke, loved his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando

Cel. Does it follow that you should love his son dearly? With this kind of situation, I should hate him, because my father hated his father dearly; yet I do not hate Orlando.

Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake

Ros. Seriously, don’t hate him because of me.

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.

Cel. Why shouldn't I? Doesn't he deserve it?
Enter Duke with Lords.

Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke

Ros. Let me love him for that, and you love him
Because I do. Look, here comes the Duke

Cel. With his eies full of anger

Cel. With his eyes full of anger

Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court

Duke. Mistress, please leave quickly and safely,
And go away from our Court

Ros. Me Vncle

Ros. My Uncle

Duk. You Cosen,
Within these ten daies if that thou beest found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diest for it

Duk. You Cosen,
If you're found within twenty miles of our public Court in the next ten days,
You'll face the consequences.

Ros. I doe beseech your Grace
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me:
If with my selfe I hold intelligence,
Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,
If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke,
(As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highnesse

Ros. I truly beg your Grace
Please allow me to bear the knowledge of my fault:
If I’m keeping secrets from myself,
Or if I know my own desires,
If I'm not dreaming, or losing my mind,
(As I trust I’m not) then dear Uncle,
I never offended your highness

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it selfe;
Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not

Duk. So do all traitors,
If their cleansing relied on just words,
They would be as innocent as grace itself;
Let it be enough for you that I don’t trust you

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough

Ros. But your mistrust doesn't turn me into a traitor;
Tell me what the possibilities depend on?
Duk. You are your father's daughter; that's enough.

Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
To thinke my pouertie is treacherous

Ros. I was in the same position when your highness took his dukedom,
I was in the same position when your highness banished him;
Treason isn’t something you inherit, my Lord,
And even if we did inherit it from our friends,
What difference does that make to me? My father was no traitor,
So please, my Liege, don’t misunderstand me,
To think that my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along

Duk. I, Celia, we waited for you,
Otherwise, she would have gone with her father.

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inseperable

Cel. I didn't ask her to stay then,
It was your choice, and your own regret,
I was too young back then to appreciate her,
But now I know her: if she's a traitor,
Then so am I: we've still slept together,
Woke up at the same time, learned, played, and ate together,
And wherever we went, like Juno's swans,
We always went together and inseparable.

Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Her verie silence, and her patience,
Speake to the people, and they pittie her:
Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd

Duk. She’s too smart for you, and her charm;
Her very silence and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they feel sorry for her:
You’re a fool, she’s stealing your reputation,
And you’ll shine more brightly and seem more virtuous
Once she’s gone: so don’t say a word.
My decision is firm and final,
I’ve passed judgment on her, she’s banished.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie

Cel. Just say that sentence then, my Liege,
I can't live without her company.

Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe,
If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatnesse of my word you die.

Duk. You’re a fool: you need to take care of yourself,
If you overstay your welcome, I swear,
And with the weight of my word, you’ll regret it.

Exit Duke, &c.

Exit Duke, etc.

Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine:
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am

Cel. Oh my poor Rosaline, where are you going?
Are you going to switch fathers? I’ll give you mine:
I urge you not to be more troubled than I am

Ros. I haue more cause

Ros. I have more reason

Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not

Cel. You haven't deceived me,
Please be cheerful; don't you know the Duke
Has banished his daughter from me?
Ros. He hasn't.

Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?
No, let my Father seeke another heire:
Therefore deuise with me how we may flie
Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,
And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you,
To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out:
For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale;
Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee

Cel. No, haven't you? Rosaline then lacks the love
That teaches you that you and I are one,
Shall we be separated? Shall we part, sweet girl?
No, let my father find another heir:
So, let's figure out how we can escape
Where to go, and what to take with us,
And don't try to hide your feelings from me,
To carry your grief alone and leave me out:
For by this heaven, now at our sorrow's pale;
Say what you will, I'll go along with you

Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?
Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden

Ros. So, where should we go?
Cel. To find my uncle in the Forest of Arden.

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs,
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?
Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be for us,
(as maidens) to travel so far?
Beauty attracts thieves faster than gold

Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face,
The like doe you, so shall we passe along,
And neuer stir assailants

Cel. I'll dress in shabby and humble clothes,
And smudge my face with a kind of reddish dirt,
You do the same, and we'll get by,
And never provoke attackers.

Ros. Were it not better,
Because that I am more then common tall,
That I did suite me all points like a man,
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart
Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
As manie other mannish cowards haue,
That doe outface it with their semblances

Ros. Wouldn't it be better,
Since I'm taller than most,
For me to dress like a man,
With a fancy sword at my side,
A spear in my hand, and whatever hidden fears
Women may have in my heart,
We'll have a showy and bold appearance,
Like many other cowardly men do,
Who try to act tough with their looks

   Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
  Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
  Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena

Cel. What should I call you when you become a man?
Ros. I won’t accept any name worse than Jove’s own Page,
So make sure you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be called?
Cel. Something that relates to my situation:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?
Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide vs from pursuite that will be made
After my flight: now goe in we content
To libertie, and not to banishment.

Ros. But cousin, what if we tried to steal
the foolish guy out of your father's court:
Wouldn’t he make our journey easier?
Cel. He’ll come along with me across the wide world,
Just leave me to win him over; let's go
And gather our jewels and wealth together,
Plan the best time and safest way
To hide ourselves from the pursuit that will come
After I escape: now let’s go in content
To freedom, not to exile.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Act Two. Scene One.

Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like
Forresters.

Enter Duke Senior: Amiens, and two or three Lords like
Foresters.

Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile:
Hath not old custome made this life more sweete
Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods
More free from perill then the enuious Court?
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam,
The seasons difference, as the Icie phange
And churlish chiding of the winters winde,
Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly perswade me what I am:
Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head:
And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing

Duk.Sen. Now my companions and brothers in exile:
Hasn't old custom made this life sweeter
Than that of fake pomp? Are these woods
Not free from the dangers of the envious Court?
Here we don’t feel the penalty of Adam,
The changing seasons, like the icy chill
And harsh biting of winter's wind,
Which, when it stings and blows against my body,
Even when I shiver from cold, I smile and say,
This is no flattery: these are advisors
That remind me of who I am:
Sweet are the uses of adversity
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Yet wears a precious jewel in its head:
And this our life, free from public crowds,
Finds voices in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile

Amien. I wouldn’t change it, happy is Your Grace
That can turn the stubbornness of fortune
Into such a calm and sweet style

Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Should in their owne confines with forked heads
Haue their round hanches goard

Du.Sen. Come on, shall we go and hunt some deer?
Yet it annoys me that the poor spotted fools
Being native citizens of this desolate city,
Should in their own territory with forked sticks
Get their round rears pierced.

1.Lord. Indeed my Lord
The melancholy Iaques grieues at that,
And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe
Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you:
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,
Did steale behinde him as he lay along
Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood,
To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord
The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes
That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round teares
Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose
In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole,
Much marked of the melancholie Iaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke,
Augmenting it with teares

1.Lord. Indeed, my Lord
The gloomy Jaques is upset about that,
And in that way claims you are more of a usurper
Than your brother who has banished you:
Today, my Lord of Amiens and I
Crept up on him while he was lying down
Under an oak, whose ancient root peeks out
Over the stream that flows through this wood,
To where a poor secluded stag
That had been injured by hunters
Came to suffer; and indeed, my Lord,
The miserable creature let out such groans
That they stretched his leather-like skin
Almost to bursting, and the large round tears
Rolled one after another down his innocent nose
In a pitiful manner: and thus the hairy fool,
Noticed by the gloomy Jaques,
Stood on the edge of the swift stream,
Adding to it with his tears.

Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame;
Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more
To that which had too much: then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;
'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part
The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard
Full of the pasture, iumps along by him
And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques,
Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens,
'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke
Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through
The body of Countrie, Citie, Court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse
To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp
In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place

Du.Sen. But what did Jaques say?
Did he not reflect on this scene?
1.Lord. Oh yes, in a thousand metaphors.
First, about his crying into the useless stream;
Poor Deer, he said, you make a testament
Like people do, giving your all to that
Which already had too much: then being there alone,
Left and abandoned by his velvet friend;
‘It’s true,’ he said, ‘this misery separates
The flow of company: soon a careless herd
Full of pasture jumps by him
And never stops to greet him: I said, Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greasy Citizens,
It’s just the trend; why do you look
At that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus he harshly pierces through
The core of Country, City, Court,
Yes, and this life of ours, swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and worse
For scaring the animals and killing them off
In their designated and native home.

D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?
2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the sobbing Deere

D.Sen. Did you leave him deep in thought?
2.Lord. We did, my Lord, crying and reflecting
On the sobbing deer.

Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I loue to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter

Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I love to confront him during these gloomy moods,
Because that's when he's full of substance

1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.

1. I'll take you to him right away.

Exeunt.

Leave the stage.

Scena Secunda.

Scene Two.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be, some villaines of my Court
Are of consent and sufferance in this

Duk. Is it really possible that no one saw them?
It can't be; some villains in my Court
Are complicit and aware of this.

1.Lo. I cannot heare 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 vntreasur'd of their Mistris

1. Look. I can't hear of anyone who saw her,
The ladies who attended her in her chamber
Saw her in bed, and early in the morning,
They found the bed untouched by their mistress.

2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft,
Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing,
Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman
Confesses that she secretly ore-heard
Your daughter and her Cosen much commend
The parts and graces of the Wrastler
That did but lately foile the synowie Charles,
And she beleeues where euer they are gone
That youth is surely in their companie

2.Lor. My Lord, the rude Clown, who Your Grace often laughed at, is also missing. Hisperia the Gentlewoman Princess admits that she secretly overheard your daughter and her cousin praising the skills and qualities of the Wrestler who recently defeated the son of Charles. And she believes that wherever they have gone, that young man is surely with them.

Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither,
If he be absent, bring his Brother to me,
Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly;
And let not search and inquisition quaile,
To bring againe these foolish runawaies.

Duk. Send for his brother, bring that brave guy here,
If he’s not around, bring his brother to me,
I'll make sure he finds him: do this quickly;
And don’t let searching and questioning stop,
To bring back these foolish runaways.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Tertia.

Scene Three.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

  Orl. Who's there?
  Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master,
Oh my sweet master, O you memorie
Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here?
Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to ouercome
The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men,
Their graces serue them but as enemies,
No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Enuenoms him that beares it?
Why, what's the matter?
  Ad. O vnhappie youth,
Come not within these doores: within this roofe
The enemie of all your graces liues
Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne
(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 meanes,
To burne the lodging where you vse to lye,
And you within it: if he faile of that
He will haue other meanes to cut you off;
I ouerheard him: and his practises:
This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;
Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it

Orl. Who's there?
Ad. What my young master, oh my gentle master,
Oh my sweet master, oh you memory
Of old Sir Rowland; why are you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And why are you kind, strong, and brave?
Why would you be so eager to compete
Against the charming champion of the humorous Duke?
Your reputation has rushed back home ahead of you.
Don't you know, Master, that to seem kind to people,
Their graces only serve as enemies,
Just as yours do: your virtues, gentle Master
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:
Oh, what a world is this when what is beautiful
Poisons those who possess it?
Why, what's going on?
Ad. Oh unfortunate youth,
Do not come inside these doors: within this house
Lives the enemy of all your graces,
Your brother, no, not a brother, yet the son
(Though not a son, I won't call him that)
Of the man I was about to call his Father,
Has heard your praises, and tonight he plans,
To burn down the place where you usually sleep,
And you inside it: if he fails at that
He will find other ways to eliminate you;
I overheard him and his plans:
This is no place, this house is just a slaughterhouse;
Avoid it, fear it, do not enter it.

Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?
Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here

Ad. Why do you want me to leave, Adam?
Ad. It doesn't matter where, just as long as you don't come here.

Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food,
Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce
A theeuish liuing on the common rode?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can,
I rather will subiect me to the malice
Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother

Orl. What, do you want me to go and beg for food,
or with a dirty and violent sword force
a miserable living on the common road?
I have to do this, or I don’t know what to do:
But this I won’t do, no matter what;
I’d rather submit to the cruelty
of a twisted bloodline and a bloody brother

Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes,
The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father,
Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,
When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame,
And vnregarded age in corners throwne,
Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,
Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,
Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,
All this I giue you, let me be your seruant,
Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie;
For in my youth I neuer did apply
Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,
Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe,
The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie,
Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,
Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you,
Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man
In all your businesse and necessities

Ad. But don't do that: I have five hundred crowns,
The money I saved while working for your father,
Which I kept for my old age,
When my body can no longer work,
And when old age is ignored and set aside,
Take this, and just as the one who feeds the ravens,
Yes, the one who looks out for the sparrows,
Let me be a support in my old age: here’s the gold,
I give all this to you; let me be your servant,
Even though I look old, I’m still strong and vigorous;
In my youth, I never indulged
In hot, rebellious drinks that harmed my blood,
Nor did I boldly pursue
The things that lead to weakness and frailty,
So my age is like a lively winter,
Frosty, but kind; let me go with you,
I’ll do the work of a younger man
In all your tasks and needs

Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares
The constant seruice of the antique world,
When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweate, but for promotion,
And hauing that do choake their seruice vp,
Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:
But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde,
In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,
But come thy waies, weele goe along together,
And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent,
Weele light vpon some setled low content

Orl. Oh, good old man, how well you show
The steady service of the old days,
When service worked out of duty, not for reward:
You’re not suited for the ways of today,
Where no one will put in the effort except for a promotion,
And once they have that, they choke their service off,
Even with what they have, it’s not the same with you:
But poor old man, you’re pruning a dead tree,
That can’t even produce a single blossom,
In return for all your effort and care.
But come along, let’s go together,
And before we’ve spent your youthful earnings,
We’ll find some settled, simple happiness.

Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee
To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie,
From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more
At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke
But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke,
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Then to die well, and not my Masters debter.

Ad. Master, go on, and I will follow you
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty,
For seventy years, until now almost eighty
I lived here, but now I live here no more.
At seventeen, many seek their fortunes,
But at eighty, it’s too late for that,
Still, fortune can’t repay me better
Than to die well, and not be my Master's debtor.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Quarta.

Scene Four.

Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias
Touchstone.

Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, also known as
Touchstone.

Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits?
Clo. I care not for my spirits, if my legges were not
wearie

Ros. Oh Jupiter, how joyful I feel!
Clo. I don't care about my mood, as long as my legs aren't
tired.

Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessell, as doublet and hose ought to show it selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good Aliena

Ros. I could find it in my heart to humiliate my man's clothing, and to cry like a woman: but I have to comfort the weaker vessel, as a doublet and hose should show themselves brave to a petticoat; so come on, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further

Cel. Please bear with me, I can't go any further.

Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse

Clo. For my part, I’d rather put up with you than deal with you. Still, I wouldn’t be burdened if I did deal with you, because I think you have no money in your wallet.

Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden

Ros. Well, this is the Forest of Arden

Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must
be content.
Enter Corin and Siluius.

Clo. I’m in Arden now, what a fool I am. When I
was at home, I was in a better spot, but travelers have to
make do.
Enter Corin and Silvius.

Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes
here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke

Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look, who comes here, a young man and an old man in serious conversation.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still

Cor. That's how you'll keep her mocking you.

Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her

Sil. Oh Corin, if only you knew how much I love her.

Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now

Cor. I sort of guess; because I have loved before now.

Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer
As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow:
But if thy loue were euer like to mine,
As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so:
How many actions most ridiculous,
Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie?
Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten

Sil. No, Corin, being older, you can't imagine,
Though in your youth you were as true a lover
As anyone who ever sighed on a midnight pillow:
But if your love was ever like mine,
As sure as I think never man loved so:
How many ridiculous things,
Have you been led to by your imagination?
Cor. Into a thousand that I've forgotten

Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily,
If thou remembrest not the slightest folly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lou'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
Enter.

Sil. Oh, you never truly loved so deeply,
If you don't remember the smallest mistake,
That love ever made you run into,
You haven't loved.
Or if you haven't sat like I do now,
Talking your ear off about your mistress's praises,
You haven't loved.
Or if you haven't left your friends abruptly,
Just like my passion is making me now,
You haven't loved.
Oh Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
Enter.

Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne

Ros. Alas poor Shepherd, searching for you,
I have, by hard luck, found my own

Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers, runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly

Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in love, I broke my sword on a rock and told him to take that for coming over to Jane Smile. I remember kissing her butler and the cow's teats that her pretty little hands had milked; and I remember wooing a pea pod instead of her, from which I took two peas, and giving them back to her, said with tears, "Wear these for my sake." We true lovers do some pretty crazy things; but just like everything in nature, everything in love is fleeting and foolish.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of

Ros. You speak more wisely than you realize.

Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my shins against it

Clo. No, I'll never be aware of my own cleverness until
I trip over it.

Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion,
Is much vpon my fashion

Ros. Wow, wow, this Shepherd's feelings,
Are really my style.

Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with
mee

Clo. And mine, but it's getting a bit old with
me

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any foode,
I faint almost to death

Cel. Please, one of you ask that man over there,
If he will give us any food for gold,
I'm about to faint from hunger.

Clo. Holla; you Clowne

Yo, what's up, Clown?

Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman

Ros. Chill out, fool, he's not your relative.

Cor. Who cals?
Clo. Your betters Sir

Cor. Who’s calling?
Clo. Your superiors, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched

Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend

Ros. Peace, I say; good evening to your friend.

Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all

Cor. And to you, kind Sir, and to all of you

Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and feed:
Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed,
And faints for succour

Ros. I beg you, Shepherd, if love or money can buy us a place to stay in this lonely spot, bring us somewhere we can rest and eat. Here's a young maid who’s exhausted from travel and is fainting for help.

Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her,
And wish for her sake more then for mine owne,
My fortunes were more able to releeue her:
But I am shepheard to another man,
And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen
By doing deeds of hospitalitie.
Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat now
By reason of his absence there is nothing
That you will feed on: but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be

Cor. Good Sir, I feel sorry for her,
And wish that my fortunes were better,
So I could help her more than myself:
But I belong to another man,
And don’t shear the sheep I tend:
My master is rather rude,
And cares little about finding his way to heaven
By doing acts of kindness.
Besides his coat, his flocks, and grazing land
Are all for sale, and at our sheep pen right now
Because of his absence, there’s nothing
For you to feed on: but if there is, come see,
And in my voice, you will be most welcome.

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture?
Cor. That yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing

Ros. Who is he that will buy his flock and pasture?
Cor. That young shepherd you saw here a little while ago,
He doesn't care at all about buying anything

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie,
Buy thou the Cottage, pasture, and the flocke,
And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs

Ros. Please, if it’s okay,
Buy the cottage, the pasture, and the flock,
And you’ll have to pay for it from us.

Cel. And we will mend thy wages:
I like this place, and willingly could
Waste my time in it

Cel. And we'll improve your pay:
I like this place, and I could happily
Spend my time here.

Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
Go with me, if you like vpon report,
The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life,
I will your very faithfull Feeder be,
And buy it with your Gold right sodainly.

Cor. Definitely, the thing is for sale:
Come with me, if you want to hear about it,
The land, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will be your very loyal provider,
And buy it with your gold right away.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Quinta.

Scene 5.

Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.

Enter, Amiens, Jaques, & others.

Song.

Track.

Vnder the greene wood tree, who loues to lye with mee, And turne his merrie Note, vnto the sweet Birds throte: Come hither, come hither, come hither: Heere shall he see no enemie, But Winter and rough Weather

Under the greenwood tree, who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note, to the sweet bird's throat: Come here, come here, come here: Here he will see no enemy, But winter and rough weather.

Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more

Iaq. More, more, please!

Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more,
I can sucke melancholly out of a song,
As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more

Amy. It will make you sad, Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. I appreciate it: More, please, more,
I can draw sadness out of a song,
Like a weasel sucks eggs: More, please, more

Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please
you

Amy. I can hear how rough my voice sounds; I know I can't make you happy
you

Iaq. I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing:
Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?
Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques

Iaq. I don't want you to please me,
I want you to sing:
Come on, more, another stanza: Can you call them stanzas?
Amy. Whatever you want, Monsieur Iaques.

Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee
nothing. Wil you sing?
Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe

Iaq. No, I don’t care about their names; they owe me
nothing. Will you sing?
Amy. More because you asked me than for my own enjoyment.

Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily, me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not hold your tongues

Iaq. Well then, if I ever thank anyone, I’ll thank you: but what they call compliments is like the meeting of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks me sincerely, I feel like I’ve given him a penny, and he returns me the pathetic thanks. Come on, let’s sing; and you who won’t keep quiet

Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while, the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this day to looke you

Amy. Well, I'll end the song. Gentlemen, cover for a while, the Duke will drink under this tree; he has been looking for you all day.

Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him:
He is too disputeable for my companie:
I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue
Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them.
Come, warble, come.

I’ve been trying to avoid him all day:
He argues too much for my company:
I think about as many things as he does, but I
Thank Heaven and don’t brag about them.
Come, sing, come.

Song. Altogether heere.

Song. All here.

Who doth ambition shunne, and loues to liue i'th Sunne: Seeking the food he eates, and pleas'd with what he gets: Come hither, come hither, come hither, Heere shall he see. &c

Who avoids ambition and loves to live in the sun: Seeking the food he eats, and happy with what he has: Come here, come here, come here, Here he will see. &c

Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note,
That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention

I will give you a verse to this note,
That I wrote yesterday despite my creativity.

Amy. And Ile sing it

Amy. And I'll sing it.

Amy. Thus it goes.
If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse:
Leauing his wealth and ease,
A stubborne will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he,
And if he will come to me

Amy. So it goes.
If it happens that any man becomes a fool:
Leaving behind his wealth and comfort,
A stubborn desire to satisfy,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here he will see, big fools just like him,
And if he wants to come to me

Amy. What's that Ducdame?
Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle.
Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all
the first borne of Egypt

Amy. What's that Ducdame?
Iaq. It's a Greek chant to bring fools into a circle.
I'll try to sleep if I can; if I can't, I'll go off on all the firstborn of Egypt.

Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke,
His banket is prepar'd.

Amy. And I'll go look for the Duke,
His feast is ready.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Sexta.

Scene Six.

Enter Orlando, & Adam

Enter Orlando and Adam

Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further:
O I die for food. Heere lie I downe,
And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master

Adam. Deere Master, I can’t go any further:
Oh, I'm dying of hunger. Here I lie down,
And mark out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee:
Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little.
If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage,
I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee:
Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while
At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently,
And if I bring thee not something to eate,
I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest
Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor.
Wel said, thou look'st cheerely,
And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest
In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee
To some shelter, and thou shalt not die
For lacke of a dinner,
If there liue any thing in this Desert.
Cheerely good Adam.

Orl. Hey there, Adam! You’re stronger than you think:
Hang in there, find some comfort, cheer yourself up a bit.
If this strange forest has anything wild to offer,
I’ll either be its food or bring it back as food for you:
Your worries are closer to death than your strength.
For my sake, stay strong, hold off death for a bit
At arm's length: I’ll be right here with you soon,
And if I don’t bring you something to eat,
I’ll let you choose to die: but if you pass away
Before I get there, you’re just mocking my efforts.
Well said, you look cheerful,
And I’ll be with you quickly: yet you’re lying
In this cold air. Come on, I’ll carry you
To some shelter, and you won’t die
From lack of dinner,
If there’s anything alive in this Desert.
Stay strong, good Adam.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Septima.

Scene Seven.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like outlaws.

Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where finde him, like a man

Du.Sen. I think he's turned into a beast,
Because I can't find him anywhere, like a man.

1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence,
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song

1.Lord. My Lord, he just left here,
He was happy, listening to a song

Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall,
We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares:
Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him.
Enter Iaques.

Du.Sen. If the deal with the air becomes harmonious,
We will soon have discord in the spheres:
Go find him, tell him I want to speak with him.
Enter Jaques.

1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach

1. Lord. He saves me from having to work by coming closer himself.

Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this
That your poore friends must woe your companie,
What, you looke merrily

Du.Sen. Hey there, Monsieur, what kind of life is this
That your poor friends have to beg for your company,
What, you look happy

Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest,
A motley Foole (a miserable world:)
As I do liue by foode, I met a foole,
Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes,
In good set termes, and yet a motley foole.
Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he,
Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune,
And then he drew a diall from his poake,
And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye,
Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke:
Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges:
'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine,
And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen,
And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe,
And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare
The motley Foole, thus morall on the time,
My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere,
That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue:
And I did laugh, sans intermission
An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,
A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare

I met a fool in the forest,
A goofy fool (what a sad world):
As I live by food, I met a fool,
Who lay down and soaked up the sun,
And complained about Lady Fortune in a nice way,
In a well-thought-out way, but still a goofy fool.
Good morning, fool, I said: No, sir, he replied,
Don’t call me a fool until heaven sends me fortune,
And then he pulled out a dial from his pocket,
And looking at it with a dull eye,
Said wisely, it’s ten o’clock:
So we can see, he said, how the world moves:
Just an hour ago, it was nine,
And in another hour, it will be eleven,
And so from hour to hour, we ripen and ripen,
And then from hour to hour, we rot and rot,
And that brings a story. When I heard
The goofy fool getting all deep about time,
My lungs started to crow like Chanticleer,
That fools should be so contemplative:
And I laughed, non-stop
For an hour by his dial. Oh noble fool,
A worthy fool: Motley's the only wear

Du.Sen. What foole is this?
Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier
And sayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire,
They haue the gift to know it: and in his braine,
Which is as drie as the remainder bisket
After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd
With obseruation, the which he vents
In mangled formes. O that I were a foole,
I am ambitious for a motley coat

Du.Sen. What kind of fool is this?
Iaq. Oh, worthy fool: One who has been a courtier
And says that if ladies are young and beautiful,
They have the ability to recognize it: and in his mind,
Which is as dry as the leftover biscuit
After a journey: He has filled strange ideas
With observations, which he expresses
In jumbled forms. Oh, that I were a fool,
I am eager for a jester's outfit.

Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one

You shall have one

Iaq. It is my onely suite,
Prouided that you weed your better iudgements
Of all opinion that growes ranke in them,
That I am wise. I must haue liberty
Withall, as large a Charter as the winde,
To blow on whom I please, for so fooles haue:
And they that are most gauled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And why sir must they so?
The why is plaine, as way to Parish Church:
Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart
Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not,
The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd
Euen by the squandring glances of the foole.
Inuest me in my motley: Giue me leaue
To speake my minde, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foule bodie of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receiue my medicine

Iaq. It's my only request,
As long as you clear your better judgment
Of all the opinions that have gotten out of hand,
That I’m wise. I need freedom,
As wide as the wind,
To blow wherever I want, because fools do:
And those who are most affected by my foolishness,
Are the ones who must laugh the hardest: And why must they?
The reason is as clear as the way to church:
He who a fool skillfully mocks,
Acts very foolishly, even if he seems
Unbothered by the jab. If not,
The wise man's folly is analyzed
Even by the careless glances of the fool.
Dress me in my motley: Give me permission
To speak my mind, and I will thoroughly
Cleanse the filthy body of this infected world,
If they will patiently accept my remedy

Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do

Du.Sen. Curse you. I can tell what you would do.

Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?
Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine,
As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe,
And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world

Iaq. What would I do as a Counter, if not good?
Du.Sen. You're a terrible sinner, criticizing sin:
You've been a Libertine yourself,
As sensual as the most brutal beast,
And all the deep wounds and serious evils
That you've freely indulged in,
Would you spit them out into the world?

Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,
That can therein taxe any priuate party:
Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,
Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe.
What woman in the Citie do I name,
When that I say the City woman beares
The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I meane her,
When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor?
Or what is he of basest function,
That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost,
Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites
His folly to the mettle of my speech,
There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies
Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here?
Enter Orlando.

Iaq. Why is it that someone shouts about pride,
When they can point fingers at any individual?
Doesn't it rise just as powerfully as the sea,
Until even the most exhausted means ebb away?
What woman in the city am I referring to,
When I say the city woman bears
The weight of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can step in and claim that I mean her,
When someone like her, is similar to her neighbor?
Or what about the lowest worker,
Who says that his bravado isn't on my expense,
Thinking that I'm talking about him, but really,
His foolishness fits perfectly with my words,
So then, how, what, let me see how
My words have wronged him: if I speak truthfully,
Then he's wronged himself: if he's free,
Then my accusation flies like a wild goose
Unclaimed by anyone. But who’s coming here?
Enter Orlando.

Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more

Orl. Stop it, and don't eat anymore.

Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet

Iaq. Why I haven't eaten any yet.

Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd

Orl. You won’t until it’s absolutely necessary.

   Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of?
  Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy distres?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie?
  Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point
Of bare distresse, hath tane from me the shew
Of smooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred,
And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say,
He dies that touches any of this fruite,
Till I, and my affaires are answered

Iaq. What kind of rooster is this?
Du.Sen. Are you this bold because of your troubles?
Or are you just a rude person who despises good manners,
That you seem so empty of civility?
Orl. You hit a nerve with me at first; the sharp pain
Of raw distress has taken away my mask
Of smooth civility: yet I'm from a decent background,
And I know some manners: But I insist,
Anyone who touches this fruit will die,
Until I, and my matters are settled.

Iaq. And you will not be answer'd with reason,
I must dye

Iaq. And you won’t be answered with reason,
I have to die

Du.Sen. What would you haue?
Your gentlenesse shall force, more then your force
Moue vs to gentlenesse

Du.Sen. What do you want?
Your kindness will persuade us more than your strength
To be kind to you.

Orl. I almost die for food, and let me haue it

Orl. I'm starving, just let me have some food.

Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table
Orl. Speake you so gently? Pardon me I pray you,
I thought that all things had bin sauage heere,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of sterne command'ment. But what ere you are
That in this desert inaccessible,
Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes,
Loose, and neglect the creeping houres of time:
If euer you haue look'd on better dayes:
If euer beene where bels haue knoll'd to Church:
If euer sate at any good mans feast:
If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare,
And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittied:
Let gentlenesse my strong enforcement be,
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my Sword

Du.Sen. Sit down and eat, and welcome to our table.
Orl. Do you speak so gently? I beg your pardon,
I thought everything here was wild,
So I put on a stern expression.
But whoever you are
In this lonely place,
Under the shade of gloomy branches,
You seem to let the hours slip by:
If you've ever seen better days:
If you've ever been where bells have rung for church:
If you've ever sat at a good person's feast:
If you've ever wiped a tear from your eyes,
And know what it's like to feel pity and be pitied:
Let gentleness be my strong resolve,
In that hope, I blush and hide my sword.

Du.Sen. True is it, that we haue seene better dayes,
And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church,
And sat at good mens feasts, and wip'd our eies
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred:
And therefore sit you downe in gentlenesse,
And take vpon command, what helpe we haue
That to your wanting may be ministred

Du.Sen. It's true that we've experienced better days,
And we've been called to Church with the holy bell,
And sat at the tables of good people, wiping our eyes
From tears that sacred pity has created:
So please, sit down with kindness,
And accept what help we have to offer
That can be provided for your needs.

Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while:
Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne,
And giue it food. There is an old poore man,
Who after me, hath many a weary steppe
Limpt in pure loue: till he be first suffic'd,
Opprest with two weake euils, age, and hunger,
I will not touch a bit

Orl. Then just hold off on eating for a little while:
While I go find my fawn,
And feed it. There's an old, poor man,
Who, after me, has taken many weary steps
Out of pure love: until he is fed first,
Burdened with two weak things, age and hunger,
I won't eat a thing.

Duke Sen. Go finde him out,
And we will nothing waste till you returne

Duke Sen. Go find him,
And we won’t waste any time until you get back.

Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort

Orl. Thank you, and be blessed for your kindness.

Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie:
This wide and vniuersall Theater
Presents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane
Wherein we play in

Du.Sen. You see, we are not all alone in our unhappiness:
This vast and universal stage
Presents more tragic displays than the scene
In which we perform.

Ia. All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women, meerely Players;
They haue their Exits and their Entrances,
And one man in his time playes many parts,
His Acts being seuen ages. At first the Infant,
Mewling, and puking in the Nurses armes:
Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell
And shining morning face, creeping like snaile
Vnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer,
Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull ballad
Made to his Mistresse eye-brow. Then, a Soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard,
Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell,
Seeking the bubble Reputation
Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iustice
In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd,
With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut,
Full of wise sawes, and moderne instances,
And so he playes his part. The sixt age shifts
Into the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthfull hose well sau'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly voice,
Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes,
And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all,
That ends this strange euentfull historie,
Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing.
Enter Orlando with Adam.

Ia. All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women are merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man during his life plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. First, the infant,
Crying and throwing up in the nurse's arms:
Then, the whiny schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail
Unwillingly to school. Next, the lover,
Sighing like a furnace, with a sad ballad
Made to his mistress’s eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like a leopard,
Jealous of his honor, sudden, and quick to quarrel,
Chasing the fleeting reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth: Then, the judge
With a big round belly, well-fed from good capon,
With serious eyes and a neatly trimmed beard,
Full of wise sayings and modern examples,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on his nose and a pouch at his side,
His youthful trousers saved, a world too large,
For his shriveled legs and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble pipes,
And whistles in his sound. The last scene of all,
That ends this strange, eventful story,
Is second childhood and mere oblivion,
Without teeth, without eyes, without taste, without everything.
Enter Orlando with Adam.

Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen,
and let him feede

Du.Sen. Welcome: put down your heavy load,
and let him eat

Orl. I thanke you most for him

Orl. I really appreciate you for him.

Ad. So had you neede,
I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe

Ad. So you needed,
I can hardly express how grateful I am for myself

Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you,
As yet to question you about your fortunes:
Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing.

Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I won’t bother you,
Not yet to ask you about your fortunes:
Give us some music, and good cousin, sing.

Song.

Track.

Blow, blow, thou winter winde,
Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene,
although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly,
Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly:
The heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is most iolly.
Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh
as benefitts forgot:
Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe,
as freind remembred not.
Heigh ho, sing, &c

Blow, blow, you winter wind,
You're not as unkind as human ingratitude.
Your bite isn't as sharp because you're not seen,
even though your breath is harsh.
Hey ho, sing hey ho, to the green holly,
Most friendships are fake; most love is just foolishness:
Hey ho, the holly,
This life is pretty jolly.
Chill, chill, you bitter sky that doesn’t sting as much
as forgotten benefits:
Though you warp the waters, your sting isn’t as harsh
as a friend who’s forgotten.
Hey ho, sing, etc.

Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son,
As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse,
Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke
That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune,
Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is:
Support him by the arme: giue me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.

Duke Sen: If you really are Sir Rowland's son,
As you've promised me you are,
And as I can see your likeness,
Clearly portrayed, and alive in your face,
Welcome here: I am the Duke
Who loved your father. Now, tell me about your situation,
Go to my cave and share it. Good old man,
You are just as welcome as your master is:
Help him by the arm: give me your hand,
And let me know all about your fortunes.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Act Three. Scene One.

Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.

Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver.

Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercie,
I should not seeke an absent argument
Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it,
Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is,
Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing
Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more
To seeke a liuing in our Territorie.
Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth,
Of what we thinke against thee

Du. You haven't seen him since? Sir, that can't be:
If I weren't the better part made of mercy,
I wouldn't be seeking an absent reason
For my revenge, you present: but watch out,
Find your brother wherever he is,
Search for him with a candle: bring him back, dead or alive,
Within this year, or don't come back
To seek a living in our territory.
Your lands and everything you call yours,
Are worth seizing, and we will take them,
Until you can clear yourself by your brother's words,
Of what we think against you.

Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this:
I neuer lou'd my brother in my life

Ol. Oh, if only your Highness knew my heart on this:
I never loved my brother in my life

Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent vpon his house and Lands:
Do this expediently, and turne him going.

Duke. You’re even more of a scoundrel. Let’s throw him out the door
And have my officials take control of his property and land:
Do this quickly, and send him on his way.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Scene Two.

Enter Orlando.

Welcome to Orlando.

Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue,
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue
Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes,
And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter,
That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,
Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where.
Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,
The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.

Orl. Hang my verses here as proof of my love,
And you, thrice-crowned Queen of night, look down
With your pure gaze from your pale sphere above,
Your Huntress name, which controls my life.
O Rosalind, these trees will be my books,
And in their bark, I’ll carve my thoughts,
So every eye that looks in this forest
Will see your virtue witnessed everywhere.
Run, run Orlando, carve on every tree,
The beautiful, the pure, and the indescribable she.

Exit

Enter Corin & Clowne.

Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone? Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard? Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred

Co. So, Mr. Touchstone, what do you think of this shepherd's life? Clow. Honestly, Shepherd, by itself, it's a good life; but considering that it's a shepherd's life, it's not great. I like that it's solitary, but as for being private, it's a pretty miserable life. I enjoy that it's in the fields, but the fact that it's not in the Court makes it boring. It's a simple life, which suits my mood well; however, the lack of abundance in it really doesn't sit well with me. Got any philosophy in you, shepherd? Cor. Not much, just that the more someone suffers, the more uncomfortable they feel: and that someone who lacks money, means, and contentment is without three good friends. That the nature of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: that good pastures make fat sheep: and that a major cause of night is the absence of the sun: that anyone who hasn't learned any cleverness from nature or art can't really complain about good upbringing or comes from a very dull family.

Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher:
Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?
Cor. No truly

Clo. Someone like that is a natural philosopher:
Was he ever in court, Shepherd?
Cor. No, not really.

Clo. Then thou art damn'd

Clo. Then you're damned.

Cor. Nay, I hope

Nah, I hope

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side

Clo. You really are doomed, like a badly cooked egg, all scrambled on one side.

Cor. For not being at Court? your reason

Cor. For not being at Court? What's your reason?

Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard

Clo. Well, if you’ve never been to court, you’ve never seen good manners: if you’ve never seen good manners, then your manners must be bad, and badness is a sin, and sin leads to damnation: You’re in a terrible situation, shepherd.

Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards

Cor. Not at all, Touchstone. People with good manners at the Court look just as silly in the Country as the behavior of country folks is often laughed at in the Court. You mentioned that you don't greet people at the Court, but you kiss your hands; that kind of courtesy would be pretty unkempt if Courtiers were shepherds.

Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance

Clo. Example, briefly: come, example

Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their
Fels you know are greasie

Cor. Why are we still taking care of our ewes, and their
fleece you know is greasy

Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come

Clo. Why aren’t your courtiers' hands sweating? Isn’t the grease from a sheep just as healthy as a man's sweat? Shallow, shallow: I say there's a better example: Come

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard

Cor. Besides, our hands are tough

Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come

Clo. You'll feel them on your lips sooner. Shallow again: a better example, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet

Cor. And they're often smeared with the grease from our sheep: and you want us to kiss tar? The courtiers' hands are scented with civet.

Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard

Clo. Most superficial man: You’re nothing but worm food compared to a good piece of meat. Learn from the wise and consider this: a civet is of lower birth than tar, the very filthy discharge from a cat. Fix the example, Shepherd.

Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest

Cor. You have too polished a sense of humor for me; I'll just stay quiet.

Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw

Clo. Are you really going to stay like this? God help you, you shallow person: I hope God makes a cut in you, because you're so naive.

Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke

Cor. Sir, I’m a hardworking laborer; I earn what I eat, get what I wear, owe no one any hate, and don’t envy anyone else's happiness. I’m happy for other people’s good fortune and content with my struggles. The biggest source of my pride is watching my ewes graze and my lambs suckle.

Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape

Clo. That’s another foolish mistake on your part, trying to bring the ewes and the rams together, and hoping to earn your living through mating livestock, playing the pimp for a leader ram, and betraying a one-year-old lamb to a twisted old cuckold ram, which is a completely unsuitable match. If you’re not going to be damned for this, then the devil himself won't have any shepherds. I can't see how you could escape otherwise.

Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses
Brother.
Enter Rosalind

Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymede, my new mistress.
Brother.
Enter Rosalind

Ros. From the east to westerne Inde, no iewel is like Rosalinde, Hir worth being mounted on the winde, through all the world beares Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest Linde, are but blacke to Rosalinde: Let no face bee kept in mind, but the faire of Rosalinde

Ros. From the east to west India, no jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth is elevated like the wind, throughout the world, everyone recognizes Rosalind. All the fairest images of beauty, are dull compared to Rosalind: Let no other face be remembered, but the beauty of Rosalind.

Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to Market

Clo. I'll rhyme with you like this for eight years straight; skipping dinners, suppers, and sleeping hours: it's the true role of the butter seller at the market.

Ros. Out Foole

Ros. Out, fool.

Clo. For a taste. If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde, Let him seeke out Rosalinde: If the Cat will after kinde, so be sure will Rosalinde: Wintred garments must be linde, so must slender Rosalinde: They that reap must sheafe and binde, then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde, such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will finde, must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde. This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe with them? Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree

Clo. Just for a taste. If a deer lacks a mate, Let him go after Rosalind: If the cat wants to mate, Then you can bet Rosalind will too: Winter clothes must be lined, So must delicate Rosalind: Those who harvest must bundle and bind, Then head off with Rosalind. The sweetest nut has the sourest shell, That's just like Rosalind. He who seeks the sweetest rose Must also deal with love's thorns, and Rosalind. This is the really awkward way of expressing poetry, why do you let it get to you? Ros. Quiet, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.

Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite

Clo. Honestly, the tree produces bad fruit.

Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the Medler

Ros. I'll mark it with you, and then I'll mark it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: because you’ll be overripe before you’re half ripe, and that’s the true quality of the medlar.

Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let the
Forrest iudge.
Enter Celia with a writing.

Clo. You have said it, but whether wisely or not, let the
Forest judge.
Enter Celia with a writing.

Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside

Ros. Chill, here comes my sister reading, step aside.

Cel. Why should this Desert bee, for it is vnpeopled? Noe: Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree, that shall ciuill sayings shoe. Some, how briefe the Life of man runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span, buckles in his summe of age. Some of violated vowes, twixt the soules of friend, and friend: But vpon the fairest bowes, or at euerie sentence end; Will I Rosalinda write, teaching all that reade, to know The quintessence of euerie sprite, heauen would in little show. Therefore heauen Nature charg'd, that one bodie should be fill'd With all Graces wide enlarg'd, nature presently distill'd Helens cheeke, but not his heart, Cleopatra's Maiestie: Attalanta's better part, sad Lucrecia's Modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts, by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, to haue the touches deerest pris'd. Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die her slaue

Cel. Why should this desert be, since it's uninhabited? No; Tongues will hang on every tree, that will show civil sayings. Some, how brief the life of man runs his wandering pilgrimage, That the stretch of a span, encompasses his total age. Some of broken vows, between the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs, or at every sentence end; Will I write to Rosalinda, teaching all who read to know The essence of every spirit, heaven would show in little. Therefore heaven commanded nature, that one body should be filled With all graces widely expanded, nature promptly distilled Helen’s cheek, but not his heart, Cleopatra's majesty: Atalanta's better part, sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind, of many parts, by heavenly decree was devised, Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, to have the touches dearly prized. Heaven wanted her to have these gifts, and I to live and die her slave.

Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people

Ros. Oh, most gentle Jupiter, what a boring sermon on love have you tired your congregation with, and never said, have patience, good people.

Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah

Cel. Hey, back off, friends: Shepherd, step aside for a bit: go with him, kid.

Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Enter.

Clo. Come, Shepherd, let’s make a dignified retreat, though not with all our belongings, still with some essentials. Enter.

Cel. Didst thou heare these verses?
Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some
of them had in them more feete then the Verses would
beare

Cel. Did you hear these verses?
Ros. Oh yes, I heard them all, and even more, because some
of them had more syllables than the verses could handle.

Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses

Cel. That's not a big deal: the feet might carry your verses.

Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse

Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and couldn't carry themselves without the verse, and therefore stood awkwardly in the verse.

Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees? Ros. I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember

Cel. But did you hear without being amazed about how your name got carved into these trees? Ros. I was seven out of the nine days out of the wonder before you arrived; look here at what I found on a palm tree. I’ve never felt this way since Pythagoras's time when I was an Irish rat, which is something I can hardly remember.

   Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?
  Ros. Is it a man?
  Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck:
change you colour?
  Ros. I pre'thee who?
  Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes,
and so encounter

Cel. Tro, who did this?
  Ros. Is it a guy?
  Cel. And a chain that you used to wear around his neck:
Did it change your color?
  Ros. Please, tell me who?
  Cel. Oh Lord, it's tough for friends to
connect; but mountains can be moved by earthquakes,
and thus they meet.

   Ros. Nay, but who is it?
  Cel. Is it possible?
  Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence,
tell me who it is

Ros. No, but who is it?
Cel. Is it really possible?
Ros. Seriously, please, with all my heart,
tell me who it is.

Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping

Cel. Oh incredible, incredible, and so incredible incredible, and once again amazing, and then beyond all belief

Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd 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 pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings

Ros. Seriously, do you really think that just because I'm dressed like a man, I have a man's personality? Just one more inch of delay feels like an entire ocean of discovery. Please tell me who it is quickly, and talk fast: I wish you could stutter so that you could spill this secret like wine from a narrow bottle: either all at once or not at all. Come on, take the cork out of your mouth so I can hear your news.

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly

Cel. So you can have a baby.

Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard

Ros. Is he made by God? What kind of man is he?
Is his head worth a hat? Or is his chin worth a beard?
Cel. No, he only has a little beard.

Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin

Ros. God will send more if the man is thankful. Let me stop the growth of his beard if you don't delay my learning about his chin.

Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers
heeles, and your heart, both in an instant

Cel. It’s young Orlando, who took down the wrestlers
and your heart, both in one go

Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde
brow, and true maid

Ros. No, but the devil take joking: speak seriously
with a true face

Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he

Cel. I swear (Coz) it's him

Ros. Orlando?
Cel. Orlando

Ros. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one word

Ros. Oh no, what am I going to do with my clothes? What did he do when you saw him? What did he say? How did he look? Where did he go? What is he doing here? Did he ask for me? Where is he now? How did he say goodbye to you? And when will you see him again? Just give me a simple answer.

Cel. You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme

Cel. You have to lend me Gargantua's mouth first: it's a word too big for any mouth of this age to say. To answer these specifics with just "yes" or "no" is more than answering in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled? Cel. It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne

Ros. But does he know that I’m in this forest and in a man's clothes? Does he look as fresh as he did the day he wrestled? Cel. It’s just as easy to count atoms as it is to figure out the thoughts of a lover: but let me share my experience of finding him, and enjoy it with good attention. I found him under a tree like a dropped acorn.

Ros. It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite

Ros. It can definitely be called Jove's tree when it bears fruit.

Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam

Cel. Give me your attention, please, Madam

Ros. Proceed

Ros. Go ahead

Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded
knight

Cel. He was lying there, stretched out like a wounded knight.

Ros. Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground

Ros. Though it’s a shame to see such a sight, it really suits the ground.

Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes
vnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Hunter

Cel. Hey, shout out, please: it twists
inappropriately. He was dressed like a Hunter

Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart

Ros. Oh no, he’s coming to kill my Hart

Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen, thou
bring'st me out of tune

Cel. I would sing my song without a burden, you
throw me off key

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke,
I must speake: sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando & Iaques.

Ros. Don't you know I'm a woman? When I think,
I have to speak: go on, please.
Enter Orlando & Jaques.

Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?
Ros. 'Tis he, slinke by, and note him

Cel. You’re taking me out. Is he not coming here?
Ros. It’s him, sneak by and keep an eye on him

Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith
I had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone

Iql. I appreciate your company, but honestly
I would have preferred to be by myself.

Orl. And so had I: but yet for fashion sake
I thanke you too, for your societie

Orl. I feel the same way: but just for appearances sake
Thanks for your company too

Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can

Iaq. God bless you, let's not meet more than necessary.

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers

Orl. I really hope we can be better off as strangers.

Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees with Writing
Loue-songs in their barkes

I ask you, please don't ruin any more trees with love songs written in their bark.

Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading
them ill-fauouredly

Orl. Please don't ruin any more of my verses by reading
them so poorly

Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?
Orl. Yes, Iust

Iaq. Rosalinde is the name of your love?
Orl. Yes, just

Iaq. I do not like her name

Iaq. I don't like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she
was christen'd

Orl. She wasn't named with the idea of making you happy when she
was baptized

Iaq. What stature is she of?
Orl. Iust as high as my heart

Iaq. What height is she?
Orl. Just as tall as my heart can reach.

Iaq. You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted
with goldsmiths wiues, & cond the[m] out of rings
Orl. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath,
from whence you haue studied your questions

Iaq. You have a lot of clever answers: haven’t you been around
goldsmiths' wives and learned from their rings?
Orl. Not really; I just respond with well-crafted lines,
from where you've clearly learned your questions.

Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I thinke 'twas made of Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all our miserie

Iaq. You have a quick wit; I think it was made from Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me, and we two will complain about our Mistress the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe against whom I know most faults

Orl. I won't blame anyone in the world but myself, since I know all my own faults.

Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue

Iaq. The biggest flaw you have is being in love.

Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue:
I am wearie of you

Orl. It's a flaw I won't change for your best quality:
I'm tired of you

Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when I
found you

Iaq. Honestly, I was looking for a fool when I
found you

Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and
you shall see him

Orl. He’s drowned in the brook, just look in, and
you’ll see him

Iaq. There I shal see mine owne figure

Iaq. There I will see my own reflection.

Orl. Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher

Orl. I think it's either a fool or a code.

Iaq. Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signior
Loue

I can't stay here with you any longer, goodbye good sir
Love

Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur
Melancholly

Orl. I'm glad you're leaving: Goodbye, good sir.
Melancholy

Ros. I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnder
that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester

Ros. I will talk to him like a cheeky servant, and under
that guise I’ll play the trickster with him, do you hear Forrester

   Orl. Verie wel, what would you?
  Ros. I pray you, what i'st a clocke?
  Orl. You should aske me what time o' day: there's no
clocke in the Forrest

Orl. Very well, what do you want?
Ros. Can I ask what time it is?
Orl. You should ask me what time it is during the day: there’s no
clock in the forest.

Ros. Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else sighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold detect the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke

Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; otherwise, sighing every minute and groaning every hour would reveal the lazy passage of time, just like a clock.

Orl. And why not the swift foote of time? Had not that bin as proper? Ros. By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces, with diuers persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands stil withall

Orl. And why not the quick pace of time? Wouldn't that be just as fitting? Ros. Not at all, sir; Time moves at different speeds with different people. I'll tell you who Time strolls with, who Time jogs with, who Time races with, and who he stands still with.

Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnizd: if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard, that it seemes the length of seuen yeare

Orl. Please, who is he walking with? Ros. Well, he's really keeping up with a young woman, caught between her engagement and the day they actually get married: if it's just a week in between, time moves so slowly that it feels like seven years.

Orl. Who ambles Time withal? Ros. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because he cannot study, and the other liues merrily, because he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles withal

Orl. Who spends time with him? Ros. A priest who doesn’t know Latin, and a rich guy who doesn’t have any worries: one sleeps easily because he doesn’t have to study, and the other lives happily because he feels no pain. One is free from the burden of lean and pointless learning; the other knows nothing of the burden of heavy, tedious poverty. These are the ones he spends time with.

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?
Ros. With a theefe to the gallowes: for though hee
go as softly as foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soon
there

Orl. Who is he riding with?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for even if he
goes as slowly as possible, he thinks he’s arriving too soon

Orl. Who staies it stil withal?
Ros. With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepe
betweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue not
how time moues

Orl. Who keeps it still with everything?
Ros. With lawyers during their break: because they sleep
between terms, and then they don’t realize
how time moves.

Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?
Ros. With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in the
skirts of the Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat

Orl. Where do you live, pretty young man?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister: here in the
edges of the forest, like fringe on a petticoat

Orl. Are you natiue of this place?
Ros. As the Conie that you see dwell where shee is
kindled

Orl. Are you from around here?
Ros. Just like the rabbit you see living where she is born

Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you could
purchase in so remoued a dwelling

Orl. Your accent is something more refined than what you could
get in such a remote place.

Ros. I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde religious Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too well: for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read many Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Woman to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal

Ros. I’ve been told that by many people, but honestly, an old religious uncle of mine taught me how to speak. He was an inland man in his youth and knew all about romance because that’s where he fell in love. I’ve heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I’m not a woman who has to deal with so many foolish mistakes as he’s generally accused their whole sex of.

Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils, that he laid to the charge of women? Ros. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming monstrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it

Orl. Can you recall any of the main accusations he made against women? Ros. There weren’t any main ones; they were all pretty much the same, like pennies—each fault seemed huge until another one came along to match it.

Orl. I prethee recount some of them

Orl. Please tell me some of them.

Ros. No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those that are sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses our yong plants with caruing Rosalinde on their barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde. If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him some good counsel, for he seemes to haue the Quotidian of Loue vpon him

Ros. No, I won't waste my medicine on anyone who isn't sick. There's a guy who hangs around the forest and messes with our young plants by carving "Rosalinde" into their bark, hanging odes on hawthorns, and elegies on brambles, all just to mock the name Rosalinde. If I could find that love-struck fool, I'd give him some solid advice because he clearly has a bad case of love.

Orl. I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel me your remedie

Orl. I'm the one who's shaken by love; please tell me how to fix this.

Ros. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you: he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage of rushes, I am sure you art not prisoner

Ros. There are none of my uncle's marks on you: he taught me how to recognize a man in love: I’m sure you’re not trapped in that cage of rushes.

Orl. What were his markes? Ros. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie and sunken, which you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit, which you haue not: a beard neglected, which you haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply your hauing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your sleeue vnbutton'd, your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing about you, demonstrating a carelesse desolation: but you are no such man; you are rather point deuice in your accoustrements, as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer of any other

Orl. What were his signs? Ros. A thin cheek, which you don’t have; a blue eye and hollowed, which you don’t have; an undeniable spirit, which you don’t have; a neglected beard, which you don’t have (but I forgive you for that, because simply having a beard is a younger brother's income). Then your pants should be ungartered, your hat unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoes unlaced, and everything about you showing a careless neglect. But you are not that kind of man; you are more precise in your attire, as if you love yourself more than seeming like a lover to anyone else.

Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue

Orl. Fair youth, I wish I could make you believe I love.

Ros. Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant she is apter to do, then to confesse she do's: that is one of the points, in the which women stil giue the lie to their consciences. But in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he

Ros. Do you expect me to believe it? You might as well try to make her believe you love her, which I guarantee she's more likely to do, than to admit she does. That's one of the things where women often deceive themselves. But seriously, are you the one who hangs the verses on the trees, where Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I swear to you, young man, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that guy, that unfortunate guy.

Ros. But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?
Orl. Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much

Ros. But are you really in love, as your poems say?
Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can explain how much

Ros. Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues as wel a darke house, and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the whippers are in loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel

Ros. Love is just a kind of madness, and I tell you, it deserves a dark room and a whip just like madmen do. The reason why they don't get punished and treated is that lunacy is so common that the ones who punish are in love too. Still, I claim to cure it with advice.

Orl. Did you euer cure any so? Ros. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his Mistris: and I set him euerie day to woe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful of teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the most part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forswear him: now weepe for him, then spit at him; that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world, and to liue in a nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wash your Liuer as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that there shal not be one spot of Loue in't

Orl. Have you ever cured anyone like that? Ros. Yes, one, and I did it this way. He had to imagine I was his love, his mistress: I made him woo me every day. During that time, I, being just a silly youth, would grieve, act effeminate, be moody, longing, and fickle, proud, whimsical, playful, shallow, inconsistent, full of tears, full of smiles; for every emotion, something, and for no emotion, truly anything, like boys and women usually are—creatures of that type: one moment I would like him, the next I would hate him; then I would welcome him, then renounce him; now I would cry for him, then I would spit at him; to the point that I drove my suitor from his crazy obsession with love to a real madness, which was to give up the full stream of the world and live in a little corner like a monk: and this is how I cured him, and this is how I will take it upon myself to cleanse your heart as pure as a healthy sheep's, so that there won't be a single trace of love left in it.

Orl. I would not be cured, youth

Orl. I wouldn't want to be healed, young one.

Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind,
and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me

Ros. I would help you if you would just call me Rosalind,
and come every day to my place, and woo me.

Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel me
where it is

Orlan. By the faith of my love, I will; Tell me
where it is

Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by
the way, you shal tell me, where in the Forrest you liue:
Wil you go?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth

Ros. Come with me to see it, and I'll show it to you: and along the way, you can tell me where in the forest you live:
Will you go?
Orl. Absolutely, my friend.

Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister,
will you go?

Ros. No, you have to call me Rosalind: Come on, sister,
are you coming?

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scoena Tertia.

Scene Three.

Enter Clowne, Audrey, & Iaques.

  Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your
Goates, Audrey: and how Audrey am I the man yet?
Doth my simple feature content you?
  Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?
  Clo. I am heere with thee, and thy Goats, as the most
capricious Poet honest Ouid was among the Gothes

Clo. Come on, good Audrey, I’ll go get your
goats, Audrey: and how about me, am I still the man?
Do my plain looks satisfy you?
Aud. Your looks, good Lord, what looks?
Clo. I am here with you and your goats, like the most
fanciful poet, the honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

Iaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse then Ioue in
a thatch'd house

Iaq. Knowledge poorly used is worse than Jupiter in a
thatched house

Clo. When a mans verses cannot be vnderstood, nor a mans good wit seconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding: it strikes a man more dead then a great reckoning in a little roome: truly, I would the Gods hadde made thee poeticall

Clo. When a man's poetry can't be understood, and a man's good wit isn't matched by a quick mind to comprehend it: it hits a person harder than a huge debt in a tiny space. Honestly, I wish the Gods had made you more poetic.

Aud. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word: is it a true thing? Clo. No trulie: for the truest poetrie is the most faining, and Louers are giuen to Poetrie: and what they sweare in Poetrie, may be said as Louers, they do feigne

Aud. I don't really understand what poetry is: is it honest in both deed and word? Is it something real? Clo. Not really; because the truest poetry is often the most fabricated, and lovers are drawn to poetry. What they swear in poetry can be said by lovers — they are just pretending.

Aud. Do you wish then that the Gods had made me
Poeticall?
Clow. I do truly: for thou swear'st to me thou art honest:
Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue some hope
thou didst feigne

Aud. Do you wish that the Gods had made me
a poet?
Clow. I really do: because you swear to me that you're honest:
Now if you were a poet, I might have some hope
that you were pretending

Aud. Would you not haue me honest?
Clo. No truly, vnlesse thou wert hard fauour'd: for
honestie coupled to beautie, is to haue Honie a sawce to
Sugar

Aud. Would you not have me honest?
Clo. No, not really, unless you were unattractive; because
honesty combined with beauty is like having honey as a sauce for
sugar.

Iaq. A materiall foole

Iaq. A foolish person

Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the
Gods make me honest

Aud. Well, I'm not beautiful, so I ask the
Gods to make me honest.

Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a foule
slut, were to put good meate into an vncleane dish

Clo. Honestly, throwing away integrity on a filthy
slut is like putting good food into a dirty dish.

Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes I
am foule

Aud. I'm not a slut, but I thank the gods that I
am ugly

Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest, and to couple vs

Clo. Well, thank the Gods for your ugliness; sloppiness might come later. But it is what it is, I will marry you: and to that end, I've been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar from the next village, who has promised to meet me here in the forest and marry us.

Iaq. I would faine see this meeting

Iaq. I would really like to see this meeting.

Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy

Aud. Well, may the gods grant us joy.

Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no assembly but horne-beasts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are necessarie. It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen so poore men alone: No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the Rascall: Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd Towne is more worthier then a village, so is the forehead of a married man, more honourable then the bare brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious then to want. Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.

Clo. Amen. A guy might hesitate in this situation if he’s scared; we have no temple here, just the woods, and no gathering except for animals. But so what? Be brave. While horns are ugly, they are necessary. It’s said that many men have no idea how much they own; that’s true. Many men have good horns and don’t know the extent of them. Well, that’s the dowry of his wife; it’s not his own earning; horns, just like poor men. No, the noblest deer has horns just as big as the common ones. Is a single guy therefore blessed? No, just like a walled town is more valuable than a village, the forehead of a married man is more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and to the extent that defense is better than no skill, a horn is more valuable than being without one. Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text.

Heere comes Sir Oliuer: Sir Oliuer Mar-text you are wel met. Will you dispatch vs heere vnder this tree, or shal we go with you to your Chappell? Ol. Is there none heere to giue the woman? Clo. I wil not take her on guift of any man

He’s coming, Sir Oliver: Sir Oliver Martext, it’s good to see you. Will you get this done here under this tree, or should we go with you to your chapel? Ol. Is there no one here to give the woman? Clo. I won’t take her as a gift from anyone.

Ol. Truly she must be giuen, or the marriage is not lawfull

Ol. She really must be given, or the marriage isn’t legal.

Iaq. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her

Iaq. Go ahead, go ahead: I'll give her

Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you Sir, you are verie well met: goddild you for your last companie, I am verie glad to see you, euen a toy in hand heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd

Clo. Good evening, good Mr. What do you call yourself: how are you? Sir, it’s great to see you: thank you for your last company, I’m really glad to see you, even with a little thing in hand here, Sir: No, please, keep your hat on.

Iaq. Wil you be married, Motley?
Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow sir, the horse his curb,
and the Falcon her bels, so man hath his desires, and as
Pigeons bill, so wedlocke would be nibling

Iaq. Will you be married, Motley?
Clo. Just like the ox has his yoke, the horse his reins,
and the falcon her bells, a man has his desires, and just like
pigeons peck, that’s how marriage would be nibbling.

Iaq. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be married vnder a bush like a begger? Get you to church, and haue a good Priest that can tel you what marriage is, this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne Wainscot, then one of you wil proue a shrunke pannell, and like greene timber, warpe, warpe

Iaq. And will you, being a man of your background, get married under a bush like a beggar? Go to church and find a good priest who can explain what marriage really is. This guy will just join you together like they join wood, and then one of you will end up being a warped panel, like green wood, warped and twisted.

Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to bee married of him then of another, for he is not like to marrie me wel: and not being wel married, it wil be a good excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife

Clo. I’m not sure about it, but I’d be better off marrying him than someone else, since he’s not likely to marry me well. And if I’m not well married, it’ll be a good excuse for me later to leave my wife.

Iaq. Goe thou with mee,
And let me counsel thee

Iaq. Come with me,
And let me advise you

Ol. Come sweete Audrey,
We must be married, or we must liue in baudrey:
Farewel good Mr Oliuer: Not O sweet Oliuer, O braue
Oliuer leaue me not behind thee: But winde away, bee
gone I say, I wil not to wedding with thee

Ol. Come, sweet Audrey,
We either need to get married, or we’re just living in sin:
Goodbye, Mr. Oliver. Not, oh sweet Oliver, oh brave
Oliver, don’t leave me behind: But hurry up, just
go away, I’m not going to marry you

Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a fantastical knaue of them
all shal flout me out of my calling.

Ol. It doesn't matter; not a single silly fool among them
will push me out of my job.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scoena Quarta.

Scene Four.

Enter Rosalind & Celia.

Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe

Ros. Talk to me again, I will cry.

Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider,
that teares do not become a man

Cel. Please, just have the grace to understand,
that tears don't suit a man

Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire,
Therefore weepe

Ros. But do I not have a reason to cry?
Cel. As good a reason as anyone could want,
So go ahead and cry.

Ros. His very haire
Is of the dissembling colour

Ros. His hair
Is a deceitful color

Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:
Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children

Cel. Something browner than Judas:
Wow, his kisses are Judas's own kids.

Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour

Ros. Honestly, his hair is a nice color.

Cel. An excellent colour:
Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:
Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,
As the touch of holy bread

Cel. A great color:
Your chestnut was always the only color:
Ros. And his kisses are as full of holiness,
As the touch of holy bread

Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie, the very yce of chastity is in them

Cel. He has bought a pair of fake lips from Diana: a nun from the winter sisterhood kisses no more piously, the very essence of purity is in them.

Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come this
morning, and comes not?
Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him

Rosa. But why did he swear he would come this
morning, and is not here?
Cel. Well, there's definitely no truth in him

Ros. Doe you thinke so?
Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse-stealer,
but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as
concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme-eaten nut

Ros. Do you really think so?
Cel. Yes, I believe he’s neither a thief nor a horse thief,
but when it comes to his sincerity in love, I think he’s as
hollow as a covered cup or a worm-eaten nut.

Ros. Not true in loue?
Cel. Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in

Ros. Not true in love?
Cel. Yes, when he is, but I don’t think he is in.

Ros. You haue heard him sweare downright he was

Ros. You’ve heard him swear flat out he was

Cel. Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no stronger then the word of a Tapster, they are both the confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the forrest on the Duke your father

Cel. What was is not: besides, a Lover's oath is no stronger than a bartender's word; they both confirm false accounts. He is here in the forest waiting on your father, the Duke.

Ros. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and let mee goe. But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? Cel. O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses, speakes braue words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his louer, as a puisny Tilter, y spurs his horse but on one side, breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere? Enter Corin.

Ros. I met the Duke yesterday and had quite a conversation with him. He asked me about my background, and I told him it was just as good as his, so he laughed and let me go. But why are we talking about fathers when there's someone like Orlando? Cel. Oh, he's an amazing guy! He writes incredible poetry, speaks confidently, swears bold oaths, and breaks them just as boldly. He totally captivates his lover, like a novice jouster who only spurs his horse on one side and breaks his lance like a noble goose. But everything that young man does is brave, driven by folly. Who’s coming here? Enter Corin.

Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquired
After the Shepheard that complain'd of loue,
Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph,
Praising the proud disdainfull Shepherdesse
That was his Mistresse

Corin. Mistress and Master, you've often asked
about the shepherd who complained about love,
the one you saw sitting with me on the turf,
praising the proud, disdainful shepherdess
who was his mistress.

Cel. Well: and what of him?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truely plaid
Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue,
And the red glowe of scorne and prowd disdaine,
Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct you
If you will marke it

Cel. Well: and what about him?
Cor. If you want to see a play truly performed
Between the pale face of true love,
And the bright glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go over there for a bit, and I’ll show you
If you’ll pay attention to it

Ros. O come, let vs remoue,
The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue:
Bring vs to this sight, and you shall say
Ile proue a busie actor in their play.

Ros. Oh come, let’s move,
The sight of lovers feeds those in love:
Take us to this sight, and you’ll see
I’ll prove to be an active participant in their play.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Quinta.

Scene 5.

Enter Siluius and Phebe.

Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe
Say that you loue me not, but say not so
In bitternesse; the common executioner
Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard
Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, please don't reject me, don’t, Phebe
Say that you don’t love me, but don’t say it
In bitterness; the usual executioner
Whose heart the constant sight of death makes tough
Doesn’t bring the axe down on the humbled neck,
But first asks for forgiveness: will you be
Stricter than he who lives and dies by blood?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner,
I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:
Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,
'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.
Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,
Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,
Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:
Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaines
Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush
The Cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes
Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
That can doe hurt

Ugh. I wouldn't be the one to kill you,
I leave you alone because I don't want to hurt you:
You say there's murder in my gaze,
It's pretty likely, and very believable,
That eyes, which are the weakest and softest things,
That close their scared gates on tiny particles,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers.
Now I'm frowning at you with all my heart,
And if my eyes can injure, then let them kill you:
Now pretend to faint, go ahead and fall down,
Or if you can't, oh for shame, for shame,
Don't lie and say my eyes are murderers:
Now show the wound my gaze has made in you,
Just scratch yourself with a pin, and there will still be
Some scar from it: Lean on a rush
The scar and the impression
Your palm keeps for a moment: but my eyes
That I've aimed at you, don't hurt you,
And I'm sure there’s no power in eyes
That can really do harm.

Sil. O deere Phebe,
If euer (as that euer may be neere)
You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,
Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
That Loues keene arrows make

Sil. Oh dear Phebe,
If ever (which could happen soon)
You encounter the charm of attraction on some fresh cheek,
Then you'll understand the invisible wounds
That love's sharp arrows create

Phe. But till that time
Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,
As till that time I shall not pitty thee

Phe. But until then
Don't come near me: and when that time comes,
Tease me without mercy, don't feel sorry for me,
Because until then, I won't feel sorry for you.

Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your mother
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Ouer the wretched? what though you haue no beauty
As by my faith, I see no more in you
Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?
Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?
I see no more in you then in the ordinary
Of Natures sale-worke? 'ods my little life,
I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,
'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheeke of creame
That can entame my spirits to your worship:
You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine,
You are a thousand times a properer man
Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you
That makes the world full of ill-fauourd children:
'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper
Then any of her lineaments can show her:
But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees
And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue;
For I must tell you friendly in your eare,
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer,
Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell

Ros. And why should I ask you? Who could your mother be
that you insult, gloat, and all at once
over the unfortunate? What if you have no beauty?
Honestly, I see nothing more in you
than the darkness of a room without a candle:
Must you be so proud and heartless?
What does this mean? Why are you looking at me?
I see no more in you than in the average
of nature’s creations? Goodness, my dear life,
I think she wants to blind me with her looks too:
No, proud mistress, don’t hope for that,
It’s not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
your beady eyes, or your creamy cheeks
that can charm my spirit into your service:
You foolish shepherd, why do you follow her
like a foggy breeze, blowing with wind and rain,
You are a thousand times a better man
than she is a woman. It's fools like you
who fill the world with unattractive children:
It’s not her mirror, but you that flatters her,
and from you she sees herself as more attractive
than any of her features can show her:
But mistress, know yourself, get down on your knees
and thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you honestly in your ear,
sell when you can, you’re not for everyone:
Show the man mercy, love him, accept his offer,
For the most ugly is truly foul when she mocks.
So take her, shepherd, farewell.

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe

Phe. Sweet young man, I ask you to scold me for a year,
I'd rather hear you scold than listen to this guy court me.

Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll
Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast
As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce
Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me?
Phe. For no ill will I beare you

Ros. He's fallen in love with your ugliness, and she'll
Fall in love with my anger. If that's the case, as quickly
As she responds to you with frowning looks, I'll hit
Her back with bitter words: why are you looking at me like that?
Phe. I don't have any ill will towards you.

Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,
For I am falser then vowes made in wine:
Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,
'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:
Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better
And be not proud, though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.
Come, to our flocke,
Enter.

Ros. Please don't fall in love with me,
Because I'm more unreliable than promises made when drunk:
Also, I don't like you: if you want to know where I live,
It's at the top of the Olives, just nearby:
Will you come, Sister? Shepherd, persuade her more:
Come, Sister: Shepherdess, give him a better look
And don't be proud, even though everyone could see,
No one could be more deceived in appearance than he.
Come, join our flock,
Enter.

Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,
Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe

Phe. Dead Shepherd, now I see your powerful saying,
Whoever loved, that didn't love at first sight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe

Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me

Phe. Hah: what do you say, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, have pity on me.

Phe. Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius

Phe. I'm really sorry for you, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:
If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,
By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe
Were both extermin'd

Sil. Wherever there is sorrow, relief would be:
If you feel sorrow for my pain in love,
By giving your sorrow for my grief,
Both would be destroyed.

Phe. Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would haue you

Phe. You have my love, isn't that friendly?
Sil. I would have you

Phe. Why that were couetousnesse:
Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee;
And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,
But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,
Thy company, which erst was irkesome to me
I will endure; and Ile employ thee too:
But doe not looke for further recompence
Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd

Phe. Now that’s just greed:
Silvius; there was a time when I couldn’t stand you;
And yet it’s not that I feel any love for you,
But since you can talk about love so well,
I can tolerate your company, which used to annoy me
And I’ll put you to work too:
But don’t expect any more reward
Than your own happiness from being useful.

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue,
And I in such a pouerty of grace,
That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop
To gleane the broken eares after the man
That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then
A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon

Sil. My love is so pure and so flawless,
And I’m in such a lack of charm,
That I’ll consider it a huge gain
To pick up the leftover scraps after the guy
Who gathers the main harvest: now and then
A scattered smile, and that’s what I’ll live on.

Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yerewhile?
Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,
And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds
That the old Carlot once was Master of

Phe. Do you know the young guy who talked to me earlier?
Sil. Not really, but I've seen him a lot,
And he bought the cottage and the land
That the old Carlot used to own

Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,
'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well,
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speakes them pleases those that heare:
It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,
But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;
Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp:
He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:
His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,
A little riper, and more lustie red
Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.
There be some women Siluius, had they markt him
In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere
To fall in loue with him: but for my part
I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet
Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him,
For what had he to doe to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,
And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me:
I maruell why I answer'd not againe,
But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:
Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,
And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart

Phe. Don’t think I love him just because I ask about him,
He’s just an annoying boy, but he speaks well,
But what do I care for words? Still, words are good
When the person saying them pleases those who hear:
He’s a pretty young man, not overly handsome,
But I’ll admit he’s proud, and it suits him well;
He’ll grow into a fine man: the best thing about him
Is his complexion; and faster than he can offend with his words,
His eyes heal the rift:
He’s not very tall, but for his age, he’s tall:
His legs are just okay, yet they look fine:
There’s a nice redness in his lips,
A little brighter and more vibrant than
The blush in his cheeks: it’s just the difference
Between a solid red and a mixed rose.
There are some women, Silvius, if they had noticed him
Like I did, would have almost fallen in love with him: but as for me,
I don’t love him, nor do I hate him: and still
I have more reason to hate him than to love him,
What right did he have to scold me?
He said my eyes were black and my hair black,
And now that I think about it, he mocked me:
I wonder why I didn’t reply,
But that’s irrelevant: ignoring it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven it:
I’ll write him a really teasing letter,
And you’ll deliver it, won’t you, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart

Phe. Ile write it strait:
The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and passing short;
Goe with me Siluius.

Phe. I'll write it straight:
The issue's on my mind and in my heart,
I will be upset with him and cut him off;
Come with me, Silvius.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Act Four. Scene One.

Enter Rosalind, and Celia, and Iaques.

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques.

Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee

I beg you, nice young person, let me get to know you better.

Ros They say you are a melancholly fellow

Ros They say you are a sad guy.

Iaq. I am so: I doe loue it better then laughing

Iaq. I really do love it more than laughing.

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abhominable fellowes, and betray themselues to euery moderne censure, worse then drunkards

Ros. Those who are at either extreme are despicable people and expose themselves to every modern judgment, worse than drunkards.

Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing

Iaq. Well, it’s good to be sad and keep quiet.

Ros. Why then 'tis good to be a poste

Ros. Why then it’s good to be a messenger

Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation: nor the Musitians, which is fantasticall; nor the Courtiers, which is proud: nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious: nor the Lawiers, which is politick: nor the Ladies, which is nice: nor the Louers, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compounded of many simples, extracted from many obiects, and indeed the sundrie contemplation of my trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadnesse

I don’t have the scholar's melancholy, which is jealousy; nor the musician's, which is whimsical; nor the courtier's, which is arrogant; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is clever; nor the lady's, which is particular; nor the lover’s, which is all of these combined. Rather, I have a melancholy of my own, made up of many factors, drawn from various experiences, and in fact, my diverse reflections on my travels often leave me wrapped up in a rather amusing sadness.

Ros. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great reason to be sad: I feare you haue sold your owne Lands, to see other mens; then to haue seene much, and to haue nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands

Ros. A Traveler: Honestly, you have every reason to be sad. I’m afraid you’ve sold your own land just to see other people’s. To have seen a lot and have nothing of your own is like having wealthy eyes and empty hands.

Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.
Enter Orlando.

Iaq. Yes, I've gained my experience.
Enter Orlando.

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather haue a foole to make me merrie, then experience to make me sad, and to trauaile for it too

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I’d rather have a fool to make me happy than experience that brings me down, especially if I have to work for it too.

Orl. Good day, and happinesse, deere Rosalind

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind

Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blanke verse

Iaq. Well then, God be with you, and you talk in blank verse.

Ros. Farewell Mounsieur Trauellor: looke you lispe, and weare strange suites; disable all the benefits of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your natiuitie, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce thinke you haue swam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you serue me such another tricke, neuer come in my sight more

Ros. Goodbye, Monsieur Traveler: look at you, speaking quietly and wearing strange clothes; ignoring all the advantages of your own country: being upset with your birthright, and almost blaming God for giving you that face you have; or I will hardly believe you’ve ever been in a Gundello. Well, how about now, Orlando? Where have you been all this time? You a lover? And you pull a stunt like this on me? Don't ever come into my sight again.

Orl. My faire Rosalind, I come within an houre of my promise

Orl. My lovely Rosalind, I'm here within an hour of my promise.

Ros. Breake an houres promise in loue? hee that will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of loue, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapt him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He who will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break just a part of the thousand parts of a minute in matters of love can be said to have Cupid on his shoulder, but I guarantee he's still intact at heart.

Orl. Pardon me deere Rosalind

Orl. Excuse me, dear Rosalind

Ros. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my sight, I had as liefe be woo'd of a Snaile

Ros. No, if you're going to be so slow, don’t show up in front of me again; I’d rather be courted by a snail.

Orl. Of a Snaile? Ros. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes slowly, hee carries his house on his head; a better ioyncture I thinke then you make a woman: besides, he brings his destinie with him

Orl. Of a Snail? Ros. Yeah, of a snail: because even though he moves slowly, he carries his home on his back; I think that's a better setup than what you offer a woman. Plus, he brings his fate with him.

Orl. What's that?
Ros. Why hornes: w such as you are faine to be beholding
to your wiues for: but he comes armed in his
fortune, and preuents the slander of his wife

Orl. What's that?
Ros. Why, horns—like the ones you’re forced to owe to your wives—because he comes equipped with his own luck and avoids the gossip about his wife.

Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker: and my Rosalind is
vertuous

Orl. Virtue isn't something you can fake, and my Rosalind has
real virtue

Ros. And I am your Rosalind

And I’m your Rosalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rosalind of a better leere then you

Cel. He likes to call you that: but he has a Rosalind who's better looking than you.

Ros. Come, wooe me, wooe mee: for now I am in a holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie Rosalind? Orl. I would kisse before I spoke

Ros. Come on, flirt with me, flirt with me: because I'm in a festive mood and might actually agree: What would you say to me right now if I were your very, very Rosalind? Orl. I would kiss you before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you were grauel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take occasion to kisse: verie good Orators when they are out, they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kisse

Ros. No, you should speak first, and when you run out of things to say, you can use that as an opportunity to kiss. Very good speakers, when they’re out of words, will spit, and for lovers, lacking (God forbid) something to say, the best move is to kiss.

Orl. How if the kisse be denide?
Ros. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins
new matter

Orl. What if the kiss is refused?
Ros. Then she makes you beg for it, and that's where new stuff starts.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloued
Mistris?
Ros. Marrie that should you if I were your Mistris,
or I should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit

Orl. Who could be outside, being in front of his beloved
Mistress?
Ros. Well, you should be if I were your Mistress,
or I would think my honesty is worse than my wit.

   Orl. What, of my suite?
  Ros. Not out of your apparrell, and yet out of your
suite:
Am not I your Rosalind?
  Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her

Orl. What, about my group?
Ros. Not from your outfit, and yet from your
group:
Aren't I your Rosalind?
Orl. I'm happy to say you are, because I want
to be talking about her.

Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not haue you

Ros. Well, in her presence, I say I won’t have you.

Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die

Orl. Then I’ll die too.

Ros. No faith, die by Attorney: the poore world is almost six thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in a loue cause: Troilous had his braines dash'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before, and he is one of the patternes of loue. Leander, he would haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midsomer-night, for (good youth) he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd, and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was Hero of Cestos. But these are all lies, men haue died from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not for loue

Ros. Seriously, die by lawyer? The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all that time, no one has ever died in person for love. Troilus had his brains bashed in with a Greek club, yet he tried his best to die first, and he’s one of the examples of love. Leander, he could have lived many fine years even if Hero had become a nun; it was just a hot summer night that did him in. The poor guy just went out to wash in the Hellespont and ended up cramping and drowning, and the foolish historians of that time blamed it on Hero of Cestos. But all of that is nonsense; people have died throughout history, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Orl. I would not haue my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frowne might kill me

Orl. I wouldn't want my true Rosalind to feel this way, because I swear her frown could actually kill me.

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more comming-on disposition: and aske me what you will, I will grant it

Ros. Honestly, it won’t harm a fly: but come on, I’ll be your Rosalind in a more inviting mood: ask me anything, and I’ll agree to it.

Orl. Then loue me Rosalind

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.

Ros. Yes faith will I, fridaies and saterdaies, and all

Ros. Yes, I will, on Fridays and Saturdays, and all.

Orl. And wilt thou haue me?
Ros. I, and twentie such

Orl. And will you have me?
Ros. Yes, and twenty more just like you.

   Orl. What saiest thou?
  Ros. Are you not good?
  Orl. I hope so

Orl. What do you say?
Ros. Are you not feeling well?
Orl. I hope so.

Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing: Come sister, you shall be the Priest, and marrie vs: giue me your hand Orlando: What doe you say sister? Orl. Pray thee marrie vs

Rosalind. So, can someone really want too much of a good thing? Come on, sister, you’ll be the one to marry us: give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister? Orl. Please, marry us.

Cel. I cannot say the words

Cel. I can't find the words

Ros. You must begin, will you Orlando

Ros. You have to start, will you Orlando?

Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rosalind?
Orl. I will

Cel. Go on: will you, Orlando, take this Rosalind as your wife?
Orl. I will.

Ros. I, but when?
Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marrie vs

Ros. I, but when?
Orl. Why now, as fast as she can marry us.

Ros. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for
wife

Ros. Then you must say, I take you, Rosalind, to be my
wife

Orl. I take thee Rosalind for wife

Orl. I choose you, Rosalind, as my wife.

Ros. I might aske you for your Commission, But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girle goes before the Priest, and certainely a Womans thought runs before her actions

Ros. I could ask you for your permission, but I do take you, Orlando, as my husband. There's a girl going before the Priest, and certainly, a woman's thoughts run ahead of her actions.

Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd

Orl. All thoughts are like wings.

Ros. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after
you haue possest her?
Orl. For euer, and a day

Ros. Now tell me how long you would want her after
you have gotten her?
Orl. Forever, and a day

Ros. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed: Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky changes when they are wiues: I will bee more iealous of thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more clamorous then a Parrat against raine, more new-fangled then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a monkey: I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Fountaine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry: I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to sleepe

Ros. Just give it a day, no more: no, Orlando, guys are like April when they’re trying to impress, and like December when they settle down: Girls are like May when they’re single, but the weather changes when they’re married: I’ll be more jealous of you than a Barbary pigeon watching over its mate, more loud than a parrot in a rainstorm, more fickle than a monkey, more dizzy with my desires than a monkey: I’ll cry for no reason, like Diana at the fountain, and I’ll do that when you’re in the mood to have fun: I’ll laugh like a hyena, and that’ll be when you’re ready to sleep.

Orl. But will my Rosalind doe so?
Ros. By my life, she will doe as I doe

Orl. But will my Rosalind do that?
Ros. I swear, she will do what I do.

Orl. O but she is wise

Orl. Oh, but she's clever.

Ros. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doores vpon a womans wit, and it will out at the casement: shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the smoake out at the chimney

Ros. Otherwise, she wouldn't have the sense to do this: the wiser she is, the more unpredictable she becomes: if you close the doors on a woman's wit, it will escape through the window: shut that, and it will slip out through the keyhole: block that, and it will fly out with the smoke from the chimney.

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
say, wit whether wil't?
Ros. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you
met your wiues wit going to your neighbours bed

Orl. A guy with a wife who has that kind of wit, he could
say, “Wit, do you want some?”
Ros. No, you might want to save that line for when you
catch your wife’s wit heading to your neighbor's bed.

Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to excuse that? Rosa. Marry to say, she came to seeke you there: you shall neuer take her without her answer, vnlesse you take her without her tongue: o that woman that cannot make her fault her husbands occasion, let her neuer nurse her childe her selfe, for she will breed it like a foole

Orl. And what cleverness could possibly excuse that? Rosa. Well, to say she came looking for you there: you’ll never get her without an answer, unless you take her without her speaking! Oh, that woman who can’t blame her mistakes on her husband’s actions should never raise her child herself, because she’ll raise it like a fool.

Orl. For these two houres Rosalinde, I wil leaue thee

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave you.

Ros. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two houres

Ros. Alas, dear love, I can't be without you for two hours.

Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock
I will be with thee againe

Orl. I have to meet the Duke for dinner at two o'clock.
I'll be with you again.

Ros. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I thought no lesse: that flattering tongue of yours wonne me: 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two o' clocke is your howre

Ros. Go on, go on: I knew what you would show, my friends told me as much, and I thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours won me over: it's just one chance lost, and then death comes: two o'clock is your time.

Orl. I, sweet Rosalind

Oh, my sweet Rosalind

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dangerous, if you breake one iot of your promise, or come one minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the most patheticall breake-promise, and the most hollow louer, and the most vnworthy of her you call Rosalinde, that may bee chosen out of the grosse band of the vnfaithfull: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise

Ros. Honestly, and seriously, I swear to God, and by all the harmless oaths that exist, if you break even a tiny part of your promise, or show up even one minute late, I will think of you as the most pathetic promise-breaker, the most empty lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that could be picked from the entire group of the unfaithful. So watch out for my judgment and keep your promise.

Orl. With no lesse religion, then if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu

Orl. With just as much devotion as if you really were my Rosalind: so goodbye

Ros. Well, Time is the olde Iustice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: adieu. Enter.

Ros. Well, Time is the old Justice that looks at all these offenders, and let time decide: goodbye. Enter.

Cel. You haue simply misus'd our sexe in your loue-prate: we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her owne neast

Cel. You've totally disrespected our gender with your love talk: we need to pull your jacket and pants over your head and show the world what the bird has done to its own nest.

Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne bottome, like the Bay of Portugall

Ros. Oh cousin, cousin, cousin: my sweet little cousin, if you only knew how deeply I’m in love! But it’s impossible to measure: my feelings have an unknown depth, like the Bay of Portugal.

Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure affection in, it runs out

Cel. Or rather endless, because as soon as you pour in affection, it runs out.

Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge, how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and sigh till he come

Ros. No, that same wicked little bastard of Venus, who was created from thought, conceived from frustration, and born from madness, that blind little rascal who misleads everyone because he can’t see himself, let him judge how deep my love is: I’ll tell you, Aliena, I can’t be away from Orlando: I’ll go find a shadow and sigh until he comes.

Cel. And Ile sleepe.

Cell. And I'll sleep.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Scene Two.

Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.

Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?
Lord. Sir, it was I

Iaq. Who is it that killed the deer?
Lord. Sir, it was me.

Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you no song Forrester for this purpose? Lord. Yes Sir

Iaq. Let’s introduce him to the Duke like a Roman conqueror, and it would be fitting to put the deer's horns on his head as a symbol of victory. Don’t you have a song, Forester, for this occasion? Lord. Yes, Sir.

Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it make noyse enough.

Iaq. Sing it: it doesn't matter if it's in tune, as long as it makes enough noise.

Musicke, Song.

Music, Song.

What shall he haue that kild the Deare?
His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:
Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen;
Take thou no scorne to weare the horne,
It was a crest ere thou wast borne,
Thy fathers father wore it,
And thy father bore it,
The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorne.

What will he get for killing the deer?
His leather hide and antlers to wear:
So let's sing him home; the rest will bear this load;
Don’t be ashamed to wear the horn,
It was a crest before you were born,
Your grandfather wore it,
And your father carried it,
The horn, the horn, the lively horn,
Is not something to laugh at or scorn.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scoena Tertia.

Scene Three.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?
And heere much Orlando

Ros. What do you say now, isn't it already past two o'clock?
And here comes Orlando

Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,
Enter Siluius.

Cel. I promise you, with genuine love, and a worried mind,
Enter Silvius.

He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth
To sleepe: looke who comes heere

He has taken his bow and arrows and is gone out
To sleep: look who’s coming here

Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,
My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this:
I know not the contents, but as I guesse
By the sterne brow, and waspish action
Which she did vse, as she was writing of it,
It beares an angry tenure; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltlesse messenger

Sil. My task is to deliver this to you, fair youth,
My dear Phebe asked me to give it to you:
I don’t know what’s inside, but from the stern look
And irritated manner she had while writing it,
I suspect it carries an angry tone; please forgive me,
I’m just an innocent messenger.

Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all:
Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,
She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me
Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will,
Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,
Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well,
This is a Letter of your owne deuice

Ros. Even patience herself would be shocked by this letter,
And act all tough, take this, take it all:
She says I’m not pretty, that I lack manners,
She calls me arrogant, and that she couldn’t love me
If a man were as rare as a Phoenix: 'od's my will,
Her love is not the rabbit I'm chasing,
Why is she writing to me like this? Well, Shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own making.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,
Phebe did write it

Sil. No, I insist, I don't know what it says,
Phebe wrote it

Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,
And turn'd into the extremity of loue.
I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand,
A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinke
That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:
She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter:
I say she neuer did inuent this letter,
This is a mans inuention, and his hand

Ros. Come on, you’re being foolish,
And completely caught up in love.
I saw her hand; it’s tough as leather,
A color like sandstone: I really thought
She was wearing her old gloves, but it was just her hands:
She has a homemaker's hand, but that’s not important:
I say she never came up with this letter,
This is a man's creation, and his hand

Sil. Sure it is hers

Sil. Of course it's hers

Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile,
A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,
Like Turke to Christian: womens gentle braine
Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Then in their countenance: will you heare the letter?
Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet:
Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie

Ros. Why, it’s a loud and cruel way,
A challenge in itself: she really defies me,
Like a Turk to a Christian: a woman's gentle mind
Could not come up with such a rude, giant idea,
Such dark words, more harmful in their meaning
Than in their sound: will you listen to the letter?
Sil. If you don’t mind, because I’ve never heard it before:
But I’ve heard too much about Phebe’s cruelty.

Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes.

Ros. She sends me messages: look at how the tyrant writes.

Read.

Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?
That a maidens heart hath burn'd.
Can a woman raile thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros.

Are you a god, turned into a Shepherd?
That a maiden's heart has burned.
Can a woman really complain like this?
Sil. Do you call this complaining?
Ros.

Read.

Why, thy godhead laid a part,
War'st thou with a womans heart?
Did you euer heare such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorne of your bright eine
Haue power to raise such loue in mine,
Alacke, in me, what strange effect
Would they worke in milde aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did loue,
How then might your praiers moue?
He that brings this loue to thee,
Little knowes this Loue in me:
And by him seale vp thy minde,
Whether that thy youth and kinde
Will the faithfull offer take
Of me, and all that I can make,
Or else by him my loue denie,
And then Ile studie how to die

Why did your godly presence take part,
Were you in conflict with a woman's heart?
Have you ever heard such insults?
While the eye of man was courting me,
That could not bring any harm to me.
Meaning I’m a beast.
If the scorn of your bright eyes
Can create such love in mine,
Alas, what strange effect
Would they have in a gentle manner?
While you scolded me, I did love,
How then might your prayers move?
He who brings this love to you,
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up your mind,
Whether your youth and nature
Will accept the faithful offer
Of me, and all that I can give,
Or else by him deny my love,
And then I’ll find a way to die.

Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas poore Shepheard

Sil. Are you calling this scolding?
Cel. Poor Shepherd!

Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.

Ros. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Would you really love someone like that? Just to be used as a pawn and have false notes played on you? That's unbearable. Well, go ahead and approach her; (because I see love has made you docile) and tell her this: If she loves me, I command her to love you too. If she refuses, I’ll never be with her unless you plead for her. If you’re a true lover, leave now, and don’t say a word; more people are coming.

Exit. Sil.

Exit. Quiet.

Enter Oliuer.

Enter Oliver.

Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you | know)
Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, stands
A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees

Oliu. Good morning, beautiful ones: please, (if you know)
Where in the thickets of this forest, stands
A sheep pen, surrounded by olive trees

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom
The ranke of Oziers, by the murmuring streame
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe,
There's none within

Cel. To the west of here, down in the nearby lowland
The cluster of willows by the murmuring stream
On your right side leads you to the spot:
But right now, the house is keeping to itself,
There's no one inside

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such yeeres: the boy is faire,
Of femall fauour, and bestowes himselfe
Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner then her brother: are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are

Oli. If an eye can benefit from a tongue,
Then I should recognize you by your description,
Such clothes and such age: the boy is handsome,
With feminine charm, and carries himself
Like a mature young woman: the woman is short
And darker than her brother: aren’t you
The owner of the house I was asking about?
Cel. It's not bragging, when asked, to say we are

   Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth hee calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloudy napkin; are you he?
  Ros. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?
  Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd

Oli. Orlando sends his regards to both of you,
And to that young woman he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin; are you the one?
Ros. I am; what do we need to understand from this?
Oli. Some of my shame, if you want to know
What kind of man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was stained

Cel. I pray you tell it

Cel. Please share it

Oli. When last the yong Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to returne againe
Within an houre, and pacing through the Forrest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie,
Loe what befell: he threw his eye aside,
And marke what obiect did present it selfe
Vnder an old Oake, whose bows were moss'd with age
And high top, bald with drie antiquitie:
A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire
Lay sleeping on his back; about his necke
A greene and guilded snake had wreath'd it selfe,
Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth: but sodainly
Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it selfe,
And with indented glides, did slip away
Into a bush, vnder which bushes shade
A Lyonnesse, with vdders all drawne drie,
Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch
When that the sleeping man should stirre; for 'tis
The royall disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing, that doth seeme as dead:
This seene, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother

Oli. The last time young Orlando left you,
He promised to come back again
Within an hour, and while walking through the forest,
Thinking about sweet and bitter thoughts,
Look at what happened: he glanced aside,
And see what caught his eye
Under an old oak tree, whose branches were covered with moss
And whose high top was bare from age:
A miserable, ragged man, overgrown with hair
Was lying on his back, sleeping; around his neck
A green and gilded snake had coiled itself,
Which with its head, quick to threaten, approached
The opening of his mouth: but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it uncoiled itself,
And with slithering movements, slipped away
Into a bush, under which a lioness,
With her teats all dried up,
Lay crouched with her head on the ground, watching like a cat
For when the sleeping man would stir; for it’s
The natural instinct of that beast
To prey on anything that seems dead:
Seeing this, Orlando approached the man,
And found out it was his brother, his elder brother

Cel. O I haue heard him speake of that same brother,
And he did render him the most vnnaturall
That liu'd amongst men

Cel. Oh, I’ve heard him talk about that brother,
And he described him as the most unnatural
That lived among men.

Oli. And well he might so doe,
For well I know he was vnnaturall

Oli. And he really could,
Because I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there
Food to the suck'd and hungry Lyonnesse?
Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpos'd so:
But kindnesse, nobler euer then reuenge,
And Nature stronger then his iust occasion,
Made him giue battell to the Lyonnesse:
Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked

Ros. But to Orlando: did he leave him there
Food for the starving and hungry lioness?
Oli. Twice he turned his back and intended to:
But kindness, nobler than revenge,
And nature stronger than his just cause,
Made him fight the lioness:
Who quickly fell before him, and in that turmoil
I woke from a terrible slumber

   Cel. Are you his brother?
  Ros. Was't you he rescu'd?
  Cel. Was't you that did so oft contriue to kill him?
  Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conuersion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am

Cel. Are you his brother?
  Ros. Were you the one he rescued?
  Cel. Were you the one who tried so hard to kill him?
  Oli. That was me: but that’s not who I am now. I’m not ashamed
To tell you who I was, since my transformation
Is so sweet, being who I am now.

Ros. But for the bloody napkin?
Oli. By and by:
When from the first to last betwixt vs two,
Teares our recountments had most kindely bath'd,
As how I came into that Desert place.
In briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment,
Committing me vnto my brothers loue,
Who led me instantly vnto his Caue,
There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme
The Lyonnesse had torne some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cride in fainting vpon Rosalinde.
Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound,
And after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to giue this napkin
Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind

Ros. But what about the bloody napkin?
Oli. Eventually:
From start to finish, between the two of us,
Tears from our recounting had soaked us both,
Like how I ended up in that deserted place.
In short, he took me to the kind Duke,
Who gave me fresh clothes and hospitality,
Entrusting me to my brother's care,
Who immediately brought me to his cave.
There he stripped down, and on his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which had been bleeding this whole time; now he was fainting,
And called out for Rosalind as he fell.
To sum it up, I revived him, bandaged his wound,
And after a little while, feeling strong again,
He sent me here, a stranger as I am,
To tell this story so you might forgive
His broken promise and give this napkin
Drenched in this blood to the shepherd boy,
Who in jest calls his Rosalind.

Cel. Why how now Ganimed, sweet Ganimed

Cel. Hey, what's up, Ganimed, sweet Ganimed?

Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on bloud

Oli. Many will swoon when they see blood.

Cel. There is more in it; Cosen Ganimed

Cel. There’s more to it, Cousin Ganimed.

Oli. Looke, he recouers

Oli. Look, he recovers

Ros. I would I were at home

Ros. I wish I were at home.

Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:
I pray you will you take him by the arme

Cel. We'll take you there:
I ask you, will you take him by the arm

Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?
You lacke a mans heart

Oli. Cheer up, young man: are you a man?
You’re missing a man’s heart.

Ros. I doe so, I confesse it:
Ah, sirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfeited,
I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfeited:
heigh-ho

Ros. I do, I admit it:
Ah, dude, you’d think this was really well faked,
I hope you tell your brother how well I faked it:
heigh-ho

Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony
in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest

Oli. This isn't fake; your expression clearly shows
that it was a genuine passion.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you

Ros. Fake, I assure you

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to
be a man

Oli. Well then, stay strong, and pretend to
be a man

Ros. So I doe: but yfaith, I should haue beene a woman
by right

Ros. So do I: but honestly, I should have been a woman
by right

Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw
homewards: good sir, goe with vs

Cel. Come on, you look more and more pale: please head homewards: good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I: for I must beare answere backe
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind

Oli. I will do that: because I have to give an answer back
How you defend my brother, Rosalind

Ros. I shall deuise something: but I pray you commend
my counterfeiting to him: will you goe?

Ros. I'll come up with something: but please praise my impersonation to him. Are you going?

Exeunt.

Exit.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Act Five. Scene One.

Enter Clowne and Awdrie.

Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gentle
Awdrie

Clow. We'll find a time, Awdrie, be patient, please.
Awdrie

Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the
olde gentlemans saying

Awd. Faith the Priest was good enough, for all the
old gentleman's saying

Clow. A most wicked Sir Oliuer, Awdrie, a most vile
Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the
Forrest layes claime to you

Clow. A really wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a really vile
Mar-text. But Audrey, there's a young man here in the
Forest who claims you.

Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no interest in mee in the world: here comes the man you meane. Enter William.

Awd. I, I know who it is: he has no interest in me at all: here comes the guy you mean. Enter William.

Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold

Clo. It’s like food and drink to me to see a clown. Honestly, we who have good sense have a lot to answer for: we’ll just keep making fun; we can’t help it.

Will. Good eu'n Audrey

Will. Good for you, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good eu'n William

Aud. God have a good evening, William.

Will. And good eu'n to you Sir

Will. And good evening to you, Sir.

Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Couer thy head, couer
thy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd. How olde are you
Friend?
Will. Fiue and twentie Sir

Clo. Good evening, gentle friend. Cover your head, cover
your head: Come on, please keep it covered. How old are you
Friend?
Will. Twenty-five, sir.

Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name William?
Will. William, sir

Clo. A mature age: Is your name William?
Will. Yes, I’m William, sir.

Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th Forrest heere?
Will. I sir, I thanke God

Clo. A beautiful name. Were you born in this forest?
Will. Yes, I was, thank God.

Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:
Art rich?
Will. 'Faith sir, so, so

Clo. Thank God: A good answer:
Art rich?
Will. Honestly, sir, kinda.

Cle. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:
and yet it is not, it is but so, so:
Art thou wise?
Will. I sir, I haue a prettie wit

Cle. So, so, it’s good, really good, very excellent:
and yet it’s not, it’s just okay:
Are you wise?
Will. Yes, sir, I have a pretty good sense of humor.

Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole. The Heathen Philosopher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid? Will. I do sir

Clo. Well said. I remember a saying: The fool thinks he’s wise, but the wise man knows he’s a fool. The pagan philosopher, when he wanted to eat a grape, would open his lips as he put it in his mouth, suggesting that grapes are meant to be eaten and lips are meant to be opened. You love this girl? Will. I do, sir.

Clo. Giue me your hand: Art thou Learned?
Will. No sir

Clo. Give me your hand: Are you educated?
Will. No sir

Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being powr'd out of a cup into a glasse, by filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent, that ipse is hee: now you are not ipse, for I am he

Clo. So, learn this from me: to have is to have. Because it's a rhetorical figure that when you pour a drink from a cup into a glass, filling one empties the other. All your writers agree that "ipse" means "he." Now, you are not "ipse," because I am he.

Will. Which he sir? Clo. He sir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the societie: which in the boorish, is companie, of this female: which in the common, is woman: which together, is, abandon the society of this Female, or Clowne thou perishest: or to thy better vnderstanding, dyest; or (to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyson with thee, or in bastinado, or in steele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with policie: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble and depart

Will. Which one, sir? Clo. He, sir, who must marry this woman: So, you Clown, leave: which in plain terms, abandon the company: which in simple language, is the company of this woman: which altogether means, abandon the company of this woman, or Clown, you will perish: or to put it more clearly, you will die; or (to be precise) I will kill you, end your life, turn your existence into death, your freedom into captivity: I will deal with you through poison, or beat you, or with a weapon: I will challenge you politically, I will outsmart you: I will kill you in a hundred and fifty different ways, so tremble and leave.

Aud. Do good William

Aud. Be good, William.

Will. God rest you merry sir.

Will. May God keep you cheerful, sir.

Exit

Log out

Enter Corin.

Cor. Our Master and Mistresse seekes you: come away,
away

Cor. Our master and mistress are looking for you: come on,
come on

Clo. Trip Audry, trip Audry, I attend,
I attend.

Clo. Hey Audry, I'm here,
I'm here.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scoena Secunda.

Scene Two.

Enter Orlando & Oliuer.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should loue her? And louing woo? and wooing, she should graunt? And will you perseuer to enioy her? Ol. Neither call the giddinesse of it in question; the pouertie of her, the small acquaintance, my sodaine woing, nor sodaine consenting: but say with mee, I loue Aliena: say with her, that she loues mee; consent with both, that we may enioy each other: it shall be to your good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir Rowlands will I estate vpon you, and heere liue and die a Shepherd. Enter Rosalind.

Orl. Is it really possible that you could like her after knowing her for such a short time? That just by seeing her, you’d fall in love? And loving her leads to wooing, and if you woo her, she'll say yes? And are you really going to keep trying to be with her? Ol. Don’t question the craziness of it all: the fact that she’s poor, our little acquaintance, my sudden wooing, or her quick agreement. Just agree with me that I love Aliena; agree with her that she loves me; and let’s all agree so we can be together. It will be good for you because I’ll give you my father’s estate and all the revenue that was left in old Sir Rowland’s will, and I’ll live and die as a shepherd here.

Orl. You haue my consent.
Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I
Inuite the Duke, and all's contented followers:
Go you, and prepare Aliena; for looke you,
Heere comes my Rosalinde

Orl. You have my consent.
Let your wedding be tomorrow: I'll invite the Duke and all his loyal followers.
You go and get Aliena ready; look, here comes my Rosalind.

Ros. God saue you brother

Ros. God save you, brother

Ol. And you faire sister

Oh, and you fair sister

Ros. Oh my deere Orlando, how it greeues me to see thee weare thy heart in a scarfe

Ros. Oh my dear Orlando, it makes me so sad to see you wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Orl. It is my arme

Orl. It is my arm

Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with the clawes of a Lion

Ros. I thought your heart had been hurt by the claws of a lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady

Orl. It may be hurt, but it has the eyes of a lady.

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeyted
to sound, when he shew'd me your handkercher?
Orl. I, and greater wonders then that

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I pretended
to know what I was talking about when he showed me your handkerchief?
Orl. Yes, and even greater things than that

Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there was neuer any thing so sodaine, but the sight of two Rammes, and Cesars Thrasonicall bragge of I came, saw, and ouercome. For your brother, and my sister, no sooner met, but they look'd: no sooner look'd, but they lou'd; no sooner lou'd, but they sigh'd: no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one another the reason: no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedie: and in these degrees, haue they made a paire of staires to marriage, which they will climbe incontinent, or else bee incontinent before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of loue, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part them

Ros. Oh, I know what's happening: it's true, nothing has ever been so sudden, except maybe the sight of two rams, and Caesar’s boast of "I came, I saw, I conquered." As for your brother and my sister, as soon as they met, they looked at each other; as soon as they looked, they fell in love; as soon as they fell in love, they sighed; as soon as they sighed, they started wondering why; as soon as they figured out the reason, they sought a solution. And through these stages, they’ve built a staircase to marriage, which they will either climb right away or act impulsively before they get married. They are in the full grip of love, and they’re going to be together. Clubs can’t separate them.

Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing it is, to looke into happines through another mans eies: by so much the more shall I to morrow be at the height of heart heauinesse, by how much I shal thinke my brother happie, in hauing what he wishes for

Orl. They’ll be married tomorrow, and I’ll invite the Duke to the wedding. But oh, how bitter it is to see happiness through someone else's eyes! Tomorrow, I’ll feel even more heartbroken because I’ll think my brother is happy, getting what he wants.

Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot serue your turne
for Rosalind?
Orl. I can liue no longer by thinking

Ros. So tomorrow, I can’t help you with Rosalind?
Orl. I can’t go on living if I keep thinking about it.

Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then (for now I speake to some purpose) that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit: I speake not this, that you should beare a good opinion of my knowledge: insomuch (I say) I know you are: neither do I labor for a greater esteeme then may in some little measure draw a beleefe from you, to do your selfe good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I haue since I was three yeare old conuerst with a Magitian, most profound in his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue Rosalinde so neere the hart, as your gesture cries it out: when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marrie her. I know into what straights of Fortune she is driuen, and it is not impossible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you, to set her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is, and without any danger

Ros. I won’t keep you any longer with pointless chatter. Just know this (because now I’m speaking with purpose): I know you’re a gentleman of good judgment. I’m not saying this so you’ll think highly of my knowledge; I’m just saying I recognize who you are. I’m not trying to seek more respect than you might give me that could help you, not to benefit me. So believe me, if you want, that I can do extraordinary things: since I was three years old, I’ve been in touch with a magician— very skilled in his craft, but not evil. If you love Rosalind as much as your body language suggests, when your brother marries Aliena, you should marry her. I know the tough circumstances she’s facing, and if it doesn’t seem too inconvenient for you, I can present her to you tomorrow, as human as she is, and without any danger.

Orl. Speak'st thou in sober meanings? Ros. By my life I do, which I tender deerly, though I say I am a Magitian: Therefore put you in your best aray, bid your friends: for if you will be married to morrow, you shall: and to Rosalind if you will. Enter Siluius & Phebe.

Orl. Are you speaking seriously? Ros. I really am, and I value it dearly, even though I say I'm a magician. So get dressed up, invite your friends, because if you want to get married tomorrow, you can. And you can marry Rosalind if you want. Enter Silvius & Phebe.

Looke, here comes a Louer of mine, and a louer of hers

Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers.

Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse,
To shew the letter that I writ to you

Phe. Dude, you’ve really been rude to me,
By showing the letter I wrote to you.

Ros. I care not if I haue: it is my studie
To seeme despightfull and vngentle to you:
you are there followed by a faithful shepheard,
Looke vpon him, loue him: he worships you

Ros. I don't care if I have: it's my goal
To seem disrespectful and unkind to you:
You are followed there by a loyal shepherd,
Look at him, love him: he adores you

Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what 'tis to loue
Sil. It is to be all made of sighes and teares,
And so am I for Phebe

Phe. Good shepherd, tell this young man what it means to love
Sil. It’s to be completely filled with sighs and tears,
And that's how I feel about Phebe

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Phe. And I for Ganymede.

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Orlando. And I for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and seruice,
And so am I for Phebe

Sil. It all comes down to faith and service,
And that's how I feel about Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganimed

Phew. And I for Ganimed

Orl. And I for Rosalind

Orl. And I'm for Rosalind

Ros. And I for no woman

Ros. And I'm not into any woman

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasie,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,
All adoration, dutie, and obseruance,
All humblenesse, all patience, and impatience,
All puritie, all triall, all obseruance:
And so am I for Phebe

Sil. It’s all about fantasy,
All about passion, and all about wishes,
All adoration, duty, and devotion,
All humility, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all testing, all devotion:
And that's how I feel about Phebe

Phe. And so am I for Ganimed

Phe. And I'm also for Ganimed.

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind

Orl. And I feel the same way about Rosalind.

Ros. And so am I for no woman

   Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?
  Ros. Why do you speake too, Why blame you mee
to loue you

Phe. If that's the case, why do you blame me for loving you?
  Sil. If that's the case, why do you blame me for loving you?
  Orl. If that's the case, why do you blame me for loving you?
  Ros. Why are you speaking too? Why do you blame me
for loving you?

Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare

Orl. To her, that is not here, nor does not hear

Ros. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling of Irish Wolues against the Moone: I will helpe you if I can: I would loue you if I could: To morrow meet me altogether: I wil marrie you, if euer I marrie Woman, and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you, if euer I satisfi'd man, and you shall bee married to morrow. I wil content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shal be married to morrow: As you loue Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no woman, Ile meet: so fare you wel: I haue left you commands

Ros. Please, no more of this; it's like the howling of Irish wolves at the moon. I’ll help you if I can; I would love you if I could. Meet me tomorrow, all together: I will marry you if I ever marry a woman, and I’ll be married tomorrow. I will satisfy you if I ever satisfied a man, and you will be married tomorrow. I will make you happy if what pleases you makes you happy, and you will be married tomorrow. As you love Rosalind, meet; as you love Phebe, meet; and as I love no woman, I’ll meet. So, farewell; I have left you instructions.

Sil. Ile not faile, if I liue

Sil. I will not fail, if I live

Phe. Nor I

Phe. Neither do I.

Orl. Nor I.

Orlando. Neither am I.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scoena Tertia.

Scene Three.

Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Clo. To morrow is the ioyfull day Audrey, to morow
will we be married

Clo. Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow
we will get married.

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is
no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of y world?
Heere come two of the banish'd Dukes Pages.
Enter two Pages.

Aud. I really want it with all my heart; and I hope it’s not an improper desire to want to be a woman of the world?
Here come two of the banished Duke's Pages.
Enter two Pages.

1.Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman

Well met, honest gentleman.

Clo. By my troth well met: come, sit, sit, and a song

Clo. Honestly, great to see you: come on, have a seat, and let’s hear a song.

2.Pa. We are for you, sit i'th middle

2.Pa. We're here for you, sit in the middle.

1.Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the onely prologues to a bad voice

1.Pa. Should we just jump right into it without coughing, or spitting, or claiming we're hoarse, which are the only openings for a bad voice?

2.Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two gipsies on a horse.

2.Pa. I swear, you swear, and both in harmony like two gypsies on a horse.

Song.

Track.

It was a Louer, and his lasse,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o're the greene corne feild did passe,
In the spring time, the onely pretty rang time.
When Birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
Sweet Louers loue the spring,
And therefore take the present time.
With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino,
For loue is crowned with the prime.
In spring time, &c.
Betweene the acres of the Rie,
With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino:
These prettie Country folks would lie.
In spring time, &c.
This Carroll they began that houre,
With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino:
How that a life was but a Flower,
In spring time, &c

It was a lover and his girl,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That over the green cornfield did pass,
In the springtime, the only pretty time.
When birds sing, hey ding a ding, ding.
Sweet lovers love the spring,
And so they enjoy the present time.
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
For love is crowned with the prime.
In springtime, & c.
Between the fields of rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino:
These pretty country folks would lie.
In springtime, & c.
This carol they started that hour,
With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino:
How life was just a flower,
In springtime, & c.

Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there was no
great matter in the dittie, yet y note was very vntunable
1.Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we lost not
our time

Clo. Honestly, young gentlemen, even though the song wasn’t a big deal, it was really out of tune. 1.Pa. You’re mistaken, sir, we were in sync, we didn’t waste our time.

Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time lost to heare such a foolish song. God buy you, and God mend your voices. Come Audrie.

Clo. Honestly, yes: I think it's just a waste of time to listen to such a silly song. Goodbye, and I hope your voices improve. Come on, Audrie.

Exeunt.

Exit.

Scena Quarta.

Scene Four.

Enter Duke Senior, Amyens, Iaques, Orlando, Oliuer, Celia.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jacques, Orlando, Oliver, Celia.

Du.Sen. Dost thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?
Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and somtimes do not,
As those that feare they hope, and know they feare.
Enter Rosalinde, Siluius, & Phebe.

Du.Sen. Do you believe Orlando, that the boy
can do everything he has promised?
Orl. Sometimes I believe it, and sometimes I don’t,
like those who fear their hopes and know they’re afraid.
Enter Rosalind, Silvius, & Phebe.

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our co[m]pact is vrg'd:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalinde,
You wil bestow her on Orlando heere?
Du.Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir

Ros. Just be patient while we finalize our agreement:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You'll give her to Orlando here?
Du.Se. I would, if I had kingdoms to give with her

Ros. And you say you wil haue her, when I bring hir?
Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdomes King

Ros. And you say you want her when I bring her?
Orl. I would want her, even if I were King of all kingdoms.

Ros. You say, you'l marrie me, if I be willing

Ros. You say you'll marry me if I’m willing.

Phe. That will I, should I die the houre after

Phe. I will do that, even if I die right after.

Ros. But if you do refuse to marrie me,
You'l giue your selfe to this most faithfull Shepheard

Ros. But if you refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd

Phe. So is the bargaine

Phew. So is the bargain.

Ros. You say that you'l haue Phebe if she will

Ros. You say you’ll have Phebe if she wants you to.

Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one
thing

Sil. But having her and death would be the same thing.

Ros. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen:
Keepe you your word, O Duke, to giue your daughter,
You yours Orlando, to receiue his daughter:
Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me,
Or else refusing me to wed this shepheard:
Keepe your word Siluius, that you'l marrie her
If she refuse me, and from hence I go
To make these doubts all euen.

Ros. I’ve promised to sort all this out:
Keep your word, Duke, to give your daughter,
You too, Orlando, to accept his daughter:
Keep your word, Phebe, that you’ll marry me,
Or else if you refuse me, I’ll marry this shepherd:
Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her
If she turns me down, and from here I’ll go
To resolve all these uncertainties.

Exit Ros. and Celia.

Exit Ros and Celia.

Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepheard boy,
Some liuely touches of my daughters fauour

Du.Sen. I do remember in this shepherd boy,
Some lively traces of my daughter's favor

Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him,
Me thought he was a brother to your daughter:
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne,
And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies, by his vnckle,
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian.
Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Orl. My Lord, the first time I ever saw him,
I thought he was a brother to your daughter:
But my good Lord, this boy is born in the forest,
And has been taught the basics
Of many daring studies by his uncle,
Who he claims is a great magician.
Enter Clown and Audrey.

Obscured in the circle of this Forrest

Obscured in the circle of this Forest

Iaq. There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are comming to the Arke. Here comes a payre of verie strange beasts, which in all tongues, are call'd Fooles

Iaq. There is definitely another flood coming, and these couples are heading to the Ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which are called fools in every language.

Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all

Clo. Hello and greetings to everyone!

Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome: This is the Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue so often met in the Forrest: he hath bin a Courtier he sweares

Iaq. Good my Lord, welcome him: This is the quirky gentleman I’ve met so often in the forest; he claims he's been a courtier.

Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my purgation, I haue trod a measure, I haue flattred a Lady, I haue bin politicke with my friend, smooth with mine enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had foure quarrels, and like to haue fought one

Clo. If any guy doubts that, let him challenge me to prove myself. I've danced, I've complimented a lady, I've been diplomatic with my friend, friendly with my enemy, I've ruined three tailors, I've had four fights, and I almost got into another one.

Iaq. And how was that tane vp?
Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was vpon
the seuenth cause

Iaq. So how did that go down?
Clo. To be honest, we met and discovered that the argument was about the seventh reason.

Iaq. How seuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this
fellow

Iaq. What’s the seventh reason? Good my Lord, like this
fellow

Du.Se. I like him very well

Du.Se. I like him a lot.

Clo. God'ild you sir, I desire you of the like: I presse in heere sir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatiues to sweare, and to forsweare, according as mariage binds and blood breakes: a poore virgin sir, an il-fauor'd thing sir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honestie dwels like a miser sir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oyster

Clo. God bless you, sir. I want the same for you: I'm pushing in here, sir, among the other folks in the area to swear, and to break those oaths, just like marriage ties and blood can break apart. A poor virgin, sir, not exactly attractive, but she's mine—a quirky thing of mine, sir, to take what no one else will: rich honesty lives like a miser, sir, in a poor house, just like your pearl in a dirty oyster.

Du.Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and sententious
Clo. According to the fooles bolt sir, and such dulcet
diseases

Du.Se. Honestly, he's really quick and full of clever remarks.
Clo. Based on the fool's judgment, sir, and those sweet little troubles.

Iaq. But for the seuenth cause. How did you finde the quarrell on the seuenth cause? Clo. Vpon a lye, seuen times remoued: (beare your bodie more seeming Audry) as thus sir: I did dislike the cut of a certaine Courtiers beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I sent him word againe, it was not well cut, he wold send me word he cut it to please himselfe: this is call'd the quip modest. If againe, it was not well cut, he disabled my iudgment: this is called, the reply churlish. If againe it was not well cut, he would answer I spake not true: this is call'd the reproofe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he wold say, I lie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelsome: and so to lye circumstantiall, and the lye direct

Iaq. But for the seventh reason. How did you find the argument on the seventh reason? Clo. Based on a lie, seven times removed: (hold yourself more confidently, Audrey) like this, sir: I didn't like the way a certain courtier's beard was styled. He sent me a message saying that if I claimed his beard wasn't well cut, he believed it was. This is called the courteous comeback. If I sent him another message saying it wasn't well cut, he would reply that he cut it to please himself: this is called the modest quip. If again I said it wasn't well cut, he would disqualify my judgment: this is called the rude reply. If again I said it wasn't well cut, he would argue that I wasn't telling the truth: this is called the brave reproach. If again I said it wasn't well cut, he would say I was lying: this is called the quarrelsome counter-argument. So, lies become circumstantial and the direct lie.

Iaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Clo. I durst go no further then the lye circumstantial: nor he durst not giue me the lye direct: and so wee measur'd swords, and parted

Iaq. And how often did you say his beard was poorly trimmed? Clo. I wouldn’t go any further than the circumstantial lie: nor would he dare give me the outright lie: and so we measured swords and parted.

Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of the lye

Iaq. Can you now list the levels of the lye in order?

Clo. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you haue bookes 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 Reproofe valiant: the fift, the Counterchecke quarrelsome: the sixt, the Lye with circumstance: the seauenth, the Lye direct: all these you may auoyd, but the Lye direct: and you may auoide that too, with an If. I knew when seuen Iustices could not take vp a Quarrell, but when the parties were met themselues, one of them thought but of an If; as if you saide so, then I saide so: and they shooke hands, and swore brothers. Your If, is the onely peace-maker: much vertue in if

Clo. Oh sir, we argue in writing, by the rules: just like you have guides for good etiquette: let me list the levels. The first is the Courteous Retort: the second, the Modest Quip: the third, the Churlish Reply: the fourth, the Brave Reproof: the fifth, the Quarrelsome Countercheck: the sixth, the Circumstantial Lie: the seventh, the Direct Lie: you can avoid all these except for the Direct Lie: but you can avoid that too, with an If. I remember when seven justices couldn't resolve a disagreement, but once the parties were together, one of them thought about an If; like saying if you said that, then I said this: and they shook hands and swore brotherhood. Your If is the only peace-maker: there's a lot of power in If.

Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord? He's as good at any thing, and yet a foole

Iaq. Isn't this a unique guy, my Lord? He’s skilled at everything, yet he's a fool.

Du.Se. He vses his folly like a stalking-horse, and vnder the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.

Du.Se. He uses his foolishness like a decoy, and behind that facade, he showcases his intelligence. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.

Still Musicke.

Still Music.

Hymen. Then is there mirth in heauen,
When earthly things made eauen
attone together.
Good Duke receiue thy daughter,
Hymen from Heauen brought her,
Yea brought her hether.
That thou mightst ioyne his hand with his,
Whose heart within his bosome is

Hymen. Then there's joy in heaven,
When earthly things come together.
Good Duke, receive your daughter,
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yes, brought her here.
So that you might join his hand with hers,
Whose heart is within his chest.

Ros. To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours.
To you I giue my selfe, for I am yours

Ros. I give myself to you, because I am yours.
I give myself to you, because I am yours

Du.Se. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter

Du.Se. If there is truth in sight, you are my daughter.

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind

Orl. If what I see is true, you are my Rosalind.

Phe. If sight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu
Ros. Ile haue no Father, if you be not he:
Ile haue no Husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not shee

Phe. If sight and appearance are real, then my love, goodbye.
Ros. I won't have a father if you aren't him:
I won't have a husband if you aren't him:
And I'll never marry if you aren't her.

Hy. Peace hoa: I barre confusion,
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange euents:
Here's eight that must take hands,
To ioyne in Hymens bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you, no crosse shall part;
You and you, are hart in hart:
You, to his loue must accord,
Or haue a Woman to your Lord.
You and you, are sure together,
As the Winter to fowle Weather:
Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we sing,
Feede your selues with questioning:
That reason, wonder may diminish
How thus we met, and these things finish.

Hi. Peace here: I bring confusion,
I must draw a conclusion
About these strange events:
Here are eight that must join hands,
To bind in marriage bands,
If truth stays true to contents.
You and you, no cross shall part;
You and you, are heart to heart:
You must agree to his love,
Or have a woman as your lord.
You and you are sure together,
As winter to foul weather:
While we sing a wedding hymn,
Feed yourselves with questioning:
So that reason and wonder may fade
About how we met and how this was made.

Song.

Track.

Wedding is great Iunos crowne,
O blessed bond of boord and bed:
'Tis Hymen peoples euerie towne,
High wedlock then be honored:
Honor, high honor and renowne
To Hymen, God of euerie Towne

Wedding is a great crown of Iuno,
O blessed bond of table and bed:
It's Hymen who fills every town,
May high marriage be honored:
Honor, high honor and renown
To Hymen, God of every Town

Du.Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me,
Euen daughter welcome, in no lesse degree

Du.Se. O my dear Niece, you are very welcome to me,
Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree

Phe. I wil not eate my word, now thou art mine,
Thy faith, my fancie to thee doth combine.
Enter Second Brother.

Phe. I won't take back my word, now that you belong to me,
Your faith and my fancy for you are joined together.
Enter Second Brother.

2.Bro. Let me haue audience for a word or two:
I am the second sonne of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this faire assembly.
Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day
Men of great worth resorted to this forrest,
Addrest a mightie power, which were on foote
In his owne conduct, purposely to take
His brother heere, and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came;
Where, meeting with an old Religious man,
After some question with him, was conuerted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:
His crowne bequeathing to his banish'd Brother,
And all their Lands restor'd to him againe
That were with him exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my life

2.Bro. Can I have your attention for a moment?
I’m the second son of old Sir Rowland,
Here to share some news with this lovely gathering.
Duke Frederick has heard that every day
Men of great worth come to this forest,
So he gathered a huge army,
Leading them himself, with the intent
To capture his brother and kill him:
He came to the edges of this wild wood;
There, he met an old religious man,
After some conversation with him, was changed
Both in his plans and in his outlook on life:
He left his crown to his banished brother,
And all the lands that were taken from him
Are now restored. I swear this is true,
I put my life on it.

Du.Se. Welcome yong man:
Thou offer'st fairely to thy brothers wedding:
To one his lands with-held, and to the other
A land it selfe at large, a potent Dukedome.
First, in this Forrest, let vs do those ends
That heere were well begun, and wel begot:
And after, euery of this happie number
That haue endur'd shrew'd daies, and nights with vs,
Shal share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie,
And fall into our Rusticke Reuelrie:
Play Musicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all,
With measure heap'd in ioy, to'th Measures fall

Du.Se. Welcome, young man:
You’re generously offering to your brother’s wedding:
To one, his lands are withheld, and to the other
A whole territory, a powerful dukedom.
First, in this forest, let's accomplish those tasks
That were well started and well conceived:
And afterward, each of this happy group
That has endured tough days and nights with us,
Shall share in the benefits of our regained fortune,
According to their individual status.
In the meantime, set aside this newfound dignity,
And join us in our Rustic Revelry:
Play music, and you brides and grooms all,
With joy overflowing, let’s dance to the rhythm.

Iaq. Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a Religious life,
And throwne into neglect the pompous Court

Iaq. Sir, if I heard you right:
The Duke has taken on a religious life,
And turned away from the extravagant Court

2.Bro. He hath

2.Bro. He has

Iaq. To him will I: out of these conuertites, There is much matter to be heard, and learn'd: you to your former Honor, I bequeath your patience, and your vertue, well deserues it. you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit: you to your land, and loue, and great allies: you to a long, and well-deserued bed: And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage Is but for two moneths victuall'd: So to your pleasures, I am for other, then for dancing meazures

Iaq. To him I will go: among these people who have changed their ways, There’s a lot to be discussed and learned: To you, I entrust your former honor; Your patience and virtue truly deserve it. To you, I give a love that your loyalty has earned: To you, I grant land, love, and strong alliances: To you, I wish a long and well-earned rest: And you, I send off to argue, because your romantic journey Only has provisions for two months: So, enjoy yourselves, I have other things to attend to than just dancing to tunes.

Du.Se. Stay, Iaques, stay

Iaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would haue,
Ile stay to know, at your abandon'd caue.
Enter.

Iaq. To have no leisure, I: what do you want,
I'll stick around to find out, at your deserted place.
Enter.

Du.Se. Proceed, proceed: wee'l begin these rights,
As we do trust, they'l end in true delights.

Du.Se. Go on, go on: we'll start these rituals,
As we trust, they'll lead to true joy.

Exit

Leave

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the Ladie the Epilogue: but it is no more vnhandsome, then to see the Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needes no Epilogue. Yet to good wine they do vse good bushes: and good playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues: What a case am I in then, that am neither a good Epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalfe of a good play? I am not furnish'd like a Begger, therefore to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure you, and Ile begin with the Women. I charge you (O women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much of this Play, as please you: And I charge you (O men) for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your simpring, none of you hates them) that betweene you, and the women, the play may please. If I were a Woman, I would kisse as many of you as had beards that pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defi'de not: And I am sure, as many as haue good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will for my kind offer, when I make curt'sie, bid me farewell. Enter.

Ros. It’s not common to see the lady at the end of a play, but it’s no more awkward than seeing the lord at the beginning. If it’s true that good wine doesn’t need a sign, then it’s also true that a good play doesn’t need an epilogue. However, they do use nice signs for good wine, and good plays are even better with the help of good epilogues. So what a situation I’m in, being neither a good epilogue nor able to persuade you on behalf of a good play? I’m not dressed like a beggar, so begging wouldn’t suit me. My approach is to charm you, and I’ll start with the women. I ask you (oh women) for the love you have for men, to enjoy this play as much as you like. And I ask you (oh men) for the love you have for women (as I can see from your smiles, none of you dislikes them) that between you and the women, the play may be enjoyable. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards I liked, faces that pleased me, and breaths that didn’t put me off. And I’m sure, as many as have nice beards, good faces, or sweet breaths will, in response to my kind offer when I curtsy, say goodbye. Enter.

FINIS.

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