Class 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 
 
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 SHAKESPEARE'S 
 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 BY BRAINERD KELLOGG, LL.D., FORMERLY 
 DEAN OF THE FACULTY AND PROFESSOR OF 
 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
 IN THE POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE, BROOKLYN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 
 

 llterilf a iEngltalj ©rata 
 
 This series of books includes in complete editions those master- 
 pieces of English Literature that are best adapted for the use of 
 schools and colleges. The editors of the several volumes are chosen 
 for their special qualifications in connection with the texts issued 
 under their individual supervision, but familiarity with the practical 
 needs of the classroom, no less than sound scholarship, character- 
 izes the editing of every book in the series. 
 
 In connection with each text, a critical and historical introduc- 
 tion, including a sketch of the life of the author and his relation 
 to the thought of his time, critical opinions of the work in question 
 chosen from the great body of English criticism, and, where possi- 
 ble, a portrait of the author, are given. Ample explanatory notes 
 of such passages in the text as call for special attention are sup- 
 plied, but irrelevant annotation and explanations of the obvious 
 are rigidly excluded. 
 
 CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 COPYKIGHT, 1910 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 ©CLA275874 
 
^3o 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Notice 5 
 
 Introduction 7 
 
 Life and Works of Shakespeare 7 
 
 The Play: As You Like It 12 
 
 Critical Opinions 16 
 
 Rosalind and Celia; Phebe and Audrey 18 
 
 Jaques 19 
 
 Touchstone 20 
 
 Shakespeare's Grammar and Versification 22 
 
 Plan of Study 25 
 
 As You Like It 29 
 
 Notes 135 
 
 Questions and Topics for Study 154 
 
EDITOR'S NOTE 
 
 The text here presented has been carefully collated with that of 
 six or seven of the best editions. Where there was any disagree- 
 ment we have adopted the readings which seemed most reasonable 
 and were supported by the best authority. 
 
 Professor Meiklejohn's exhaustive notes form the substance of 
 those here used ; and his plan, as set forth in the " General Notice " 
 annexed, has been carried out in these volumes. But as these 
 editions of the plays are intended rather for pupils in school and 
 college than for ripe Shakespearian scholars, we have not hesi- 
 tated to prune his notes of whatever was thought to be too 
 learned for our purpose, or on other grounds was deemed irrele- 
 vant to it. 
 
OH. Forbear, and eat no more. 
 
GENERAL NOTICE 
 
 "An attempt has been made in these editions to interpret 
 Shakespeare by the aid of Shakespeare himself. The Method of 
 Comparison has been constantly employed ; and the language used 
 by him in one place has been compared with the language used in 
 other places in similar circumstances, as well as with older English 
 and with newer English. 
 
 "The first purpose in this elaborate annotation is, of course, 
 the full working out of Shakespeare's meaning. The Editor has 
 in all circumstances taken as much pains with this as if he had been 
 making out the difficult and obscure terms of a will in which he 
 himself was personally interested; and he submits that this thor- 
 ough excavation of the meaning of a really profound thinker is 
 one of the very best kinds of training that a boy or girl can receive 
 at school. This is to read the very mind of Shakespeare, and to 
 weave his thoughts into the fibre of one's own mental constitution. 
 And always new rewards come to the careful reader — in the shape 
 of new meanings, recognition of thoughts he had before missed, 
 of relations between the characters that had hitherto escaped 
 him. For reading Shakespeare is just like examining Nature; 
 there are no hollownesses, there is no scamped work, for Shake- 
 speare is as patiently exact and as first-hand as Nature herself. 
 
 " Besides this thorough working-out of Shakespeare's meaning, 
 advantage has been taken of the opportunity to teach his English 
 — to make each play an introduction to the English of Shake- 
 speare. For this purpose copious collections of similar phrases 
 have been gathered from other plays; his idioms have been dwelt 
 upon; his peculiar use of words; his style and his rhythm. Some 
 teachers may consider that too many instances are given; but, in 
 teaching, as in everything else, the old French saying is true: 
 
 5 
 
6 GENERAL NOTICE 
 
 Assez n'y a, s'il trop n'y a. The teacher need not require each 
 pupil to give him all the instances collected. If each gives one or 
 two, it will probably be enough; and, among them all, it is certain 
 that one or two will stick in the memory. 
 
 "It were much to be hoped that Shakespeare should become 
 more and more of a study, and that every boy and girl should have 
 a thorough knowledge of at least one play of Shakespeare before 
 leaving school. It would be one of the best lessons in human life. 
 It would also have the effect of bringing back into the too pale and 
 formal Engjish of modern times a large number of pithy and vigor- 
 ous phrases which would help to develop as well as to reflect 
 vigor in the characters of the readers. Shakespeare used the 
 English language with more power than any other writer that ever 
 lived — he made it do more and say more than it had ever done; 
 he made it speak in a more original way; and his combinations of 
 words are perpetual provocations and invitations to originality 
 and to newness of insight." — J. M. D. Meiklejohn, M. A., Late 
 Professor of Pedagogy in the University of St. Andrews. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 "Shakespeare was born, it is thought, April 23, 1564, the son of 
 a comfortable burgess of Stratford-on-Avon. While he was still 
 young, his father fell into poverty, and an interrupted education 
 left the son an inferior scholar. He had 'small Latin and less 
 Greek.' But by dint of genius and by living in a society in which 
 all sorts of information were attainable, he became an accomplished 
 man. The story told of his deer-stealing in Charlecote woods is 
 without proof, but it is likely that his youth was wild and passion- 
 ate. At nineteen he married Ann Hathaway, seven years older 
 than himself, and was probably unhappy with her. For this 
 reason or from poverty, or from the driving of the genius that led 
 him to the stage, he left Stratford about 1586-1587, and went to 
 London at the age of twenty-two; and, falling in with Marlowe, 
 Greene, and the rest, he became an actor and a playwright, and 
 may have lived their unrestrained and riotous life for some years. 
 
 "His First Period. — It is probable that before leaving Strat- 
 ford he had sketched a part at least of his Venus and Adonis. It 
 is full of the country sights and sounds, of the ways of birds and 
 animals, such as he saw when wandering in Charlecote woods. Its 
 rich and overladen poetry and its warm coloring made him, when 
 it was published, in 1593, at once the favorite of men like Lord 
 Southampton, and lifted him into fame. But before that date he 
 had done work for the stage by touching up old plays and writing 
 new ones. We seem to trace his ' prentice hand' in many dramas 
 of the time, but the first he is usually thought to have retouched is 
 Titus Andronicus, and, some time after, the First Part of Henry VI. 
 
 "Love's Labour 's Lost, the first of his original plays, in which he 
 
 7 
 
8 INTRODUCTION 
 
 quizzed and excelled the Euphuists in wit, was followed by the 
 rapid farce of The Comedy of Errors. Out of these frolics of intellect 
 and action he passed into pure poetry in A Midsummer Night's 
 Dream, and mingled into fantastic beauty the classic legend, the 
 mediaeval fairyland, and the clownish life of the English mechanic. 
 Italian story then laid its charm upon him, and Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona preceded the southern glow of passion in Romeo and Juliet. 
 in which he first reached tragic power. They complete, with 
 Love's Labour 's Won, afterwards recast as All 's Well That Ends 
 Well, the love plays of his early period. We may, perhaps, add 
 to them the second act of an older play, Edward III. We should 
 certainly read along with them, as belonging to the same passion- 
 ate time, his Rape of Lucrece, a poem finally printed in 1594, one 
 year later than the Venus and Adonis. 
 
 " The patriotic feeling of England, also represented in Marlowe 
 and Peele, now seized on him, and he turned from love to begin 
 his great series of historical plays with Richard II, 1593-1594. 
 Richard III followed quickly. To introduce it and to complete 
 the subject, he recast the Second and Third Parts of Henry VI 
 (written by some unknown authors), and ended his first period 
 with King John — five plays in a little more than two years. 
 
 " His Second Period, 1596-1602. — In The Merchant of Venice 
 Shakespeare reached entire mastery over his art. A mingled woof 
 of tragic and comic threads is brought to its highest point of color 
 when Portia and Shylock meet in court. Pure comedy followed in 
 his retouch of the old Taming of the Shrew, and all the wit of the 
 world, mixed with noble history, met next in the three comedies 
 of Falstaff, the First and Second Parts of Henry IV, and the Merry 
 Wives of Windsor. The historical plays were then closed with 
 Henry V, a splendid dramatic song to the glory of England. 
 
 " The Globe theater, in which he was one of the proprietors, was 
 built in 1599. In the comedies he wrote for it, Shakespeare turned 
 to write of love again, not to touch its deeper passion as before, 
 but to play with it in all its lighter phases. The flashing dialogue 
 of Much Ado About Nothing was followed by the far-off forest 
 world of As You Like It, where 'the time fleets carelessly,' and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE 9 
 
 Rosalind's character is the play. Amid all its gracious lightness 
 steals in a new element, and the melancholy of Jaques is the first 
 touch we have of the older Shakespeare who had 'gained his 
 experience, and whose experience had made him sad.' And yet 
 it was but a touch ; Twelfth Night shows no trace of it, though the 
 play that followed, All 's Well That Ends Well, again strikes a 
 sadder note. We find this sadness fully grown in the later sonnets, 
 which are said to have been finished about 1602. They were pub- 
 lished in 1609. 
 
 "Shakespeare's life changed now, and his mind changed with 
 it. He had grown wealthy during this period and famous, and was 
 loved by society. He was the friend of the Earls of Southampton 
 and Essex, and of William Herbert, Lord Pembroke. The queen 
 patronized him; all the best literary society was his own. He had 
 rescued his father from poverty, bought the best house in Strat- 
 ford and much land, and was a man of wealth and comfort. Sud- 
 denly all his life seems to have grown dark. His best friends fell 
 into ruin, Essex perished on the scaffold, Southampton went to 
 the Tower, Pembroke was banished from the Court; he may him- 
 self, as some have thought, have been concerned in the rising of 
 Essex. Added to this, we may conjecture, from the imaginative 
 pageantry of the sonnets, that he had unwisely loved, and been 
 betrayed in his love by a dear friend. Disgust of his profession 
 as an actor, and public and private ill weighed heavily on him, 
 and in darkness of spirit, though still clinging to the business of 
 the theater, he passed from comedy to write of the sterner side of 
 the world, to tell the tragedy of mankind. 
 
 "His Third Period, 1602-1608, begins with the last days of 
 Queen Elizabeth. It contains all the great tragedies, and opens 
 with the fate of Hamlet, who felt, like the poet himself, that 'the 
 time was out of joint.' Hamlet, the dreamer, may well represent 
 Shakespeare as he stood aside from the crash that overwhelmed 
 his friends, and thought on the changing world. The tragi-comedy 
 of Measure for Measure was next written, and is tragic in thought 
 throughout. Julius Caesar, Othello, Macbeth, Lear, Troilus and 
 Cressida (finished from an incomplete work of his youth), Antony 
 
10 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, Timon (only in part his own), were all 
 written in these five years. The darker sins of men, the unpitying 
 fate which slowly gathers round and falls on men, the avenging 
 wrath of conscience, the cruelty and punishment of weakness, the 
 treachery, lust, jealousy, ingratitude, madness of men, the follies 
 of the great, and the fickleness of the mob are all, with a thousand 
 other varying moods and passions, painted, and felt as his own 
 while he painted them, during this stern time. 
 
 "His Fourth Period, 1608-1613. — As Shakespeare wrote of 
 these things, he passed out of them, and his last days are full of 
 the gentle and loving calm of one who has known sin and sorrow 
 and fate but has risen above them into peaceful victory. Like his 
 great contemporary, Bacon, he left the world and his own evil time 
 behind him, and with the same quiet dignity sought the innocence 
 and stillness of country life. The country breathes through all 
 the dramas of this time. The flowers" Perdita gathers in The 
 Winter's Tale, and the frolic of the sheep-shearing he may have 
 seen in the Stratford meadows; the song of Fidele in Cymbeline is 
 written by one who already feared no more the frown of the great, 
 nor slander nor censure rash, and was looking forward to the time 
 when men should say of him — 
 
 Quiet consummation have; 
 And renowned be thy grave! 
 
 "Shakespeare probably left London in 1609, and lived in the 
 house he had bought at Stratford-on-Avon. He was reconciled, it 
 is said, to his wife, and the plays he writes speak of domestic peace 
 and forgiveness. The story of Marina, which he left unfinished, and 
 which two later writers expanded into the play of Pericles, is the 
 first of his closing series of dramas. The Two Noble Kinsmen of 
 Fletcher, a great part of which is now, on doubtful grounds, I 
 think, attributed to Shakespeare, and in which the poet sought 
 the inspiration of Chaucer, would belong to this period. Cymbeline, 
 The Winter's Tale, and The Tempest bring his history up to 1612, 
 and in the next year he closed his poetic life by writing, with 
 Fletcher, Henry VIII. For three years he kept silence, and then, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE 11 
 
 on the 23d of April, 1616, the day he reached the age of fifty-two, 
 as is supposed, he died. 
 
 " His Work. — We can only guess with regard to Shakespeare's 
 life; we can only guess with regard to his character. We have 
 tried to find out what he was from his sonnets and from his plays, 
 but every attempt seems to be a failure. We cannot lay our hand 
 on anything and say for certain that it was spoken by Shakespeare 
 out of his own character. The most personal thing in all his writ- 
 ings is one that has scarcely been noticed. It is the Epilogue to 
 The Tempest; and if it be, as is most probable, the last thing he 
 ever wrote, then its cry for forgiveness, its tale of inward sorrow, 
 only to be relieved by prayer, give us some dim insight into how 
 the silence of those three years was passed; while its declaration 
 of his aim in writing, 'which was to please,' — the true definition 
 of an artist's aim, — should make us cautious in our efforts to de- 
 fine his character from his works. Shakespeare made men and 
 women whose dramatic action on each other, and towards a catas- 
 trophe, was intended to please the public, not to reveal himself. 
 
 " No commentary on his writings, no guesses about his life or 
 character, are worth much which do not rest on this canon as their 
 foundation: What he did, thought, learned, and felt, he did, 
 thought, learned, and felt as an artist. . . . Fully influenced, as 
 we see in Hamlet he was, by the graver and more philosophic cast 
 of thought of the later time of Elizabeth; passing on into the reign 
 of James I, when pedantry took the place of gayety, and sensual 
 the place of imaginative love in the drama, and artificial art the 
 place of that art which itself is nature; he preserves to the last the 
 natural passion, the simple tenderness, the sweetness, grace, and 
 fire of the youthful Elizabethan poetry. The Winter's Tale is as 
 lovely a love story as Romeo and Juliet; The Tempest is more 
 instinct with imagination than A Midsummer Night's Dream, and 
 as great in fancy; and yet there are fully twenty years between 
 them. The only change is in the increase of power, and in a closer 
 and graver grasp of human nature. Around him the whole tone 
 and manner of the drama altered for the worse, but his work 
 grew to the close in strength and beauty." — Stopford Brooke. 
 
THE PLAY: AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Sources and Date of the Play. — "Thomas Lodge, one of the 
 most elegant and musical of the minor Elizabethan poets, though, 
 like most of them, full of quaint conceits and pedantry, in 1590 
 published a novel, entitled Rosalynde: Euphues Golden Legacie. In 
 the Dedication of his work to Lord Hunsdon, Lodge says, 'Hav- 
 ing with Captain Clark made a voyage to the islands of Terceras 
 and the Canaries, to beguile the time with labor I writ this book, 
 rough as hatched in the storms of the ocean, and feathered in the 
 surges of many perilous seas.' This is an affectedly humble and 
 very inaccurate description of his story, which is polished to 
 feebleness and prolixity, and is highly ornate in diction. It is a 
 romantic and pastoral love-story, partly taken from The Coke's 
 Tale of Gamelyn, attributed erroneously to Chaucer, and it con- 
 tains several pieces of sweet lyrical poetry. Lodge's volume be- 
 came popular. It was reprinted in 1592, and again in 1598, and 
 we have seen an edition of it dated 1616, long after Shakespeare 
 had rendered the incidents familiar on the stage. Mr. Collier 
 thinks that the re-publication in 1598 of so popular a work directed 
 Shakespeare's attention to it. 
 
 "It is certain that As You Like It was entered in the Stationers' 
 Registers on August 4, 1600, along with Henry V and Much Ado 
 about Nothing, and Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour. Some 
 obstacle to the publication of the plays had arisen, for, opposite 
 to the entry in the register, is written, 'To be stayed.' The 'stay' 
 was soon removed from all but As You Like It, which continued 
 unprinted until the publication of the folio in 1623. Perhaps 
 Lodge had protested against the appropriation of his story, fore- 
 seeing that the play, if published, would ultimately supersede his 
 novel, or Shakespeare may have been unwilling to let the world 
 know how exactly he had copied its incidents and characters. 
 
 "All, it is true, but the mere outline and a few expressions, are 
 
 12 
 
THE PLAY: AS YOU LIKE IT 13 
 
 Shakespeare's own. He had added Jaques, Touchstone, and 
 Audrey, and, like Lodge, had gone to The Coke's Tale; yet, the 
 fable being the same as Lodge's, the heroine Rosalind, the scene 
 the forest of Arden, the adventures of the banished brother and 
 usurping king and the pastoral and love scenes the same as in the 
 novel, the resemblance might have seemed to warrant a charge of 
 plagiarism. It is scarcely necessary to add, however, that what 
 in Lodge are mere faint sketches appear in Shakespeare as finished 
 pictures, instinct with life and beauty. 
 
 The Spirit of the Play. — "None of his other plays is more 
 redolent of the true spirit of poetry, and of that love of nature es- 
 sential to the poetic character. The latter is not manifested in the 
 description of scenery 'for its own sake, or to show how well he 
 could paint natural objects. He is never tedious or elaborate; but 
 while he now and then displays marvelous accuracy and minute- 
 ness of knowledge, he usually only touches upon the larger fea- 
 tures and broader characteristics, leaving the filling up to the 
 imagination. Thus, in As You Like It, he describes an oak of many 
 centuries' growth in a single line: — 
 
 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out. 
 
 Other and inferior writers would have dwelt on this description, 
 and worked it out with all the pettiness and impertinence of de- 
 tail. In Shakespeare the antique root furnishes the whole picture.' 1 
 In the fourth act we have a somewhat more copious description of 
 an old oak, but in this also the vigorous condensation and graphic 
 boldness of the poet are no less conspicuous. The passage is sug- 
 gested by Lodge. 'Saladin,' says the novelist, 'weary with wan- 
 dering up and down, and hungry with long fasting, finding a little 
 cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruit as the forest did 
 afford, and contenting himself with such drink as nature had pro- 
 vided and thirst made delicate, after his repast fell into a dead 
 sleep.' Shakespeare dashes off the scene in a few masterly 
 touches: — 
 
 1 Coleridge: Notes of Lectures in 1818, taken by Mr. Collier. 
 
14 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Under an old oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 
 A wretched, ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 
 
 Lay sleeping on his back. 
 
 "Along with the exquisite appreciation of woodland scenery 
 and natural beauty in As You Like It, with glimpses of the old 
 Robin Hood life, when men 'fleeted the time carelessly, as they 
 did in the golden world,' we have the meditative and reflective 
 spirit displayed in the delineation of Jaques and the Duke, and the 
 philosophy of human life unfolded in action as well as in speeches 
 replete with practical wisdom and sagacity. It would be super- 
 fluous to point to the forest scenes, in which this philosophy is 
 seen blended with sportive satire and description, and in which 
 the versification is melody itself. Rosalind and Orlando have 
 both their prototypes in Lodge, but the former is destitute of the 
 airy grace and arch raillery which distinguish the heroine of the 
 play. The creation of Shakespeare is indeed one of his most felici- 
 tous female portraitures. 
 
 Shakespeare on the Stage. — "The character of Adam, the faith- 
 ful aged retainer, is found both in The Coke's Tale of Gamelyn 
 and in Lodge's novel. Additional interest attaches to it in the 
 drama, as Mr. Collier remarks, because it is supposed that the part 
 was originally sustained on the stage by Shakespeare himself. 
 There are two traditions on this point. Oldys had heard that one 
 of Shakespeare's brothers, who lived to a great age, recollected 
 seeing his brother Will personating a decrepit old man; he wore a 
 long beard, and appeared so weak that he was forced to be sup- 
 ported and carried to a table, at which he was seated among some 
 company who were eating. Capell gives the story as of an old 
 man related to Shakespeare, who, being asked by some of his 
 neighbors what he remembered about him, answered that he saw 
 him once brought on the stage upon another man's back, which 
 answer was applied by the hearers to his having seen him perform 
 in this scene (As You Like It, II, vii) the part of Adam. These are 
 indistinct and doubtful reminiscence j. One brother of the poet 
 
THE PLAY: AS YOU LIKE IT 15 
 
 (Gilbert) was living at Stratford in 1609, but the probability is 
 that he predeceased his illustrious relative, as he is not mentioned 
 in his will. Chettle, the contemporary of Shakespeare, and one 
 well fitted to judge, states that the dramatist was 'excellent in the 
 quality he professed' — that is, excellent as an actor, and in As 
 You Like It we should have expected to find him personating 
 Jaques or the Duke. The character of Adam, however, is drawn 
 with great care and tenderness, and it could scarce fail to be a 
 favorite with the author as well as with his audience." — Cham- 
 bers, Edition of the Plays. 
 
 I 
 
CRITICAL OPINIONS 
 
 "Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how 
 the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and 
 Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for 
 the heroism of her friendship. The character of Jaques is natural 
 and well preserved. The comic dialogue is very sprightly, with 
 less mixture of low buffoonery than in some other plays; and the 
 graver part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end 
 of this work, Shakespeare suppressed the dialogue between the 
 usurper and the hermit, and lost an opportunity of exhibiting a 
 moral lesson in which he might have found matter worthy of his 
 highest powers." — Johnson. 
 
 "The sweet and sportive temper of Shakespeare, though it 
 never deserted him, gave way to advancing years, and to the mas- 
 tering force of serious thought. What he read we know but very 
 imperfectly; yet in the last years of the century, when five and 
 thirty summers had ripened his genius, it seems that he must have 
 transfused much of the wisdom of past ages into his own all-com- 
 bining mind. In several of the historical plays, in The Merchant 
 of Venice and especially in As You Like It, the philosophic eye, 
 turned inward on the mysteries of human nature, is more and 
 more characteristic; and we might apply to the last comedy the 
 bold figure that Coleridge has less appropriately employed as to 
 the early poems, that 'The creative power and the intellectual 
 energy wrestle as in a war-embrace.' In no other play, at least, 
 do we find the bright imagination and fascinating grace of Shake- 
 speare's youth so mingled with the thoughtfulness of his maturer 
 age. This play is referred with reasonable probability to the year 
 1600. Few comedies of Shakespeare are more generally pleasing, 
 and its manifold improbabilities do not much affect us in perusal. 
 The brave, injured Orlando, the sprightly but modest Rosalind, 
 the faithful Adam, the reflecting Jaques, the serene and magnani- 
 
 16 
 
CRITICAL OPINIONS 17 
 
 mous Duke interest us by turns, though the play is not so well 
 managed as to condense our sympathy, and direct it to the con- 
 clusion." — Hall am. 
 
 " Throughout the whole picture it seems to be the poet's design 
 to show that to call forth the poetry which has its indwelling in 
 nature and the human mind, nothing is wanted but to throw off 
 all artificial constraint, and restore both to mind and to nature 
 their original liberty. In the very progress of the piece, the dreamy 
 carelessness of such an existence is sensibly expressed: it is even 
 alluded to by Shakespeare in the title." — Schlegel. 
 
 "Upon the whole, As You Like It is the sweetest and happiest 
 of all Shakespeare's comedies. No one suffers; no one lives an 
 eager intense life; there is no tragic interest in it as there is in 
 The Merchant of Venice, as there is in Much Ado About Nothing. 
 It is mirthful, but the mirth is sprightly, graceful, exquisite; there 
 is none of the rollicking fun of a Sir Toby here; the songs are not 
 'coziers' catches' shouted in the night-time, 'without any miti- 
 gation or remorse of voice,' but the solos and duets of pages in the 
 wild-wood, or the noisier chorus of foresters. The wit of Touch- 
 stone is not mere clownage, nor has it any indirect serious signifi- 
 cances; it is a dainty kind of absurdity worthy to hold comparison 
 with the melancholy of Jaques. And Orlando, in the beauty and 
 strength of early manhood, and Rosalind — 
 
 A gallant curtle-axe upon her thigh, 
 A boar-spear in her hand, 
 
 and the bright, tender, loyal womanhood within — are figures 
 which quicken and restore our spirits, as music does which is 
 neither noisy nor superficial, and yet which knows little of the 
 deep passion and sorrow of the world. 
 
 "Shakespeare, when he wrote this idyllic play, was himself in 
 his Forest of Arden. He had ended one great ambition — the 
 historical plays — and not yet commenced his tragedies. It was 
 a resting-place. He sends his imagination into the woods to find 
 repose. Instead of the courts and camps of England and the em- 
 
18 INTRODUCTION 
 
 battled plains of France, here was this woodland scene, where the 
 palm-tree, the lioness, and the serpent are to be found; possessed 
 of a flora and fauna that flourish in spite of physical geographers. 
 There is an open-air feeling throughout the play. The dialogue, 
 as has been observed, catches freedom and freshness from the 
 atmosphere. 'Never is the scene within-doors, except when 
 something discordant is introduced to heighten, as it were, the 
 harmony.'" — Dowden, Shakspere, His Mind and Art. 
 
 Rosalind and Celia; Phebe and Audrey 
 
 "The first introduction of Rosalind is less striking than inter- 
 esting; we see her a dependent, almost a captive, in the house of 
 her usurping uncle; her genial spirits are subdued by her situation, 
 and the remembrance of her banished father: her playfulness is 
 under a temporary eclipse. . . . The sensibility and even pen- 
 siveness of her demeanor in the first instance, render her archness 
 and gayety afterwards, more graceful and more fascinating. . . . 
 
 "Everything about Rosalind breathes of 'youth and youth's 
 sweet prime.' She is fresh as the morning, sweet as the dew- 
 awakened blossoms, and light as the breeze that plays among 
 them. She is witty, voluble, sprightly. . . . The wit of Rosalind 
 bubbles up and sparkles like the living fountain, refreshing all 
 around. Her volubility is like the bird's song; it is the outpouring 
 of a heart filled to overflowing with life, love, and joy, and all 
 sweet and affectionate impulses. She has as much tenderness as 
 mirth, and in her most petulant raillery there is a touch of soft- 
 ness — 'By this hand, it will not hurt a fly.' As her vivacity 
 never lessens our impression of her sensibility, so she wears her 
 masculine attire without the slightest impugnment of her delicacy. 
 Shakespeare did not make the modesty of his women depend on 
 their dress. . . . Rosalind has in truth 'no doublet and hose in 
 her disposition/ How her heart seems to throb and flutter under 
 her page's vest! What depth of love in her passion for Orlando! 
 whether disguised beneath a saucy playfulness, or breaking forth 
 with a fond impatience, or half betrayed in that beautiful scene 
 
CRITICAL OPINIONS 19 
 
 where she faints at the sight of the kerchief stained with his 
 blood! . . . 
 
 "Celia is more quiet and retired; but she rather yields to Rosa- 
 lind than is eclipsed by her. She is as full of sweetness, kindness, 
 and intelligence, quite as susceptible, and almost as witty, though 
 she makes less display of her wit. She is described as less fair and 
 less gifted; yet the attempt to excite in her mind a jealousy of her 
 lovelier friend by placing them in comparison . . . fails to awaken 
 in the generous heart of Celia any other feeling than an increased 
 tenderness and sympathy for her cousin. To Celia, Shakespeare 
 has given some of the most striking and animated parts of the dia- 
 logue; and in particular, that exquisite description of the friend- 
 ship between her and Rosalind. . . . 
 
 "Phebe is quite an Arcadian coquette; she is a piece of pastoral 
 poetry. Audrey is only rustic. A very amusing effect is pro- 
 duced by the contrast between the frank and free bearing of the 
 two princesses in disguise, and the scornful airs of the real shep- 
 herdess. . . . We find two among the most poetical passages of 
 the play appropriated to Phebe — the taunting speech to Silvius, 
 and the description of Rosalind in her page's costume." — Mrs. 
 Jameson, Characteristics of Women. 
 
 Jaques 
 
 "Shakespeare, when he put into the Duke's mouth the words 
 'Sweet are the uses of adversity,' knew something of deeper afflic- 
 tion than a life in the golden leisure of Arden. Of real melancholy 
 there is none in the play; for the melancholy of Jaques is not 
 grave and earnest, but sentimental, a self-indulgent humor, a 
 petted foible of character, melancholy prepense and cultivated; 
 'it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, 
 extracted from many objects; and indeed the sundry contempla- 
 tion of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a 
 most humorous sadness.' . . . 
 
 His whole life is unsubstantial and unreal, a curiosity of dainty 
 mockery. To him 'all the world 's a stage, and all the men and 
 
20 INTRODUCTION 
 
 women merely players; ' to him sentiment stands in place of passion; 
 an aesthetic, amateurish experience of various modes of life stands 
 in place of practical wisdom, and words in place of deeds. . . . 
 Jaques, in his own way, supposes that he can dispense with reali- 
 ties. The world, not as it is, but as it mirrors itself in his own 
 mind, which gives to each object a humorous distortion — this is 
 what alone interests Jaques. Shakespeare would say to us, ' This 
 egoistic, contemplative, unreal manner of treating life is only a 
 delicate kind of foolery. Real knowledge of life can never be ac- 
 quired by the curious seeker for experiences.' But this Shake- 
 speare says in his non-hortatory, undogmatic way." — Dowden, 
 Shakspere, His Mind and Art. 
 
 Touchstone 
 
 "Touchstone agrees substantially with Jaques in his views 
 about court-fashions and social conventions, and says things quite 
 as sharp; but he has the tone of genuine humor, and its good- 
 nature never deserts him except when his legs do, as he takes that 
 dispiriting journey into the forest of Arden. . . . The difference 
 between his wit and Touchstone's is subtly indicated throughout 
 the play, and is one of Shakespeare's most admirable studies in 
 nature. Jaques marks the moment when the virtue of complete 
 knowledge of the world passes into the vice of discontent. Touch- 
 stone expresses the gladness of being a member of this inevitable 
 world, and of tolerating himself with the other fools. Thus all his 
 strictures upon society have this superiority, that they cannot be 
 suspected of hypocrisy and ill-will. . . . 
 
 "As his name indicates, he tests with a touch the metal of so- 
 ciety, and shows dispassionately the color of spuriousness. His 
 foolishness is his naturalness. He is a born simpleton in the sense 
 of being unworldly, a fool 'by heavenly compulsion.' So he is 
 continually in a state of organic contrast to conventionality. 
 
 "Touchstone is 
 
 Wise enough to play the fool; 
 
 And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit; 
 
CRITICAL OPINIONS 21 
 
 He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
 The quality of persons, and the time; 
 Not, like the haggard, check at every feather 
 That comes before his eye. This is a practice 
 As full of labour as a wise man's art. 
 
 "In these lines, Shakespeare provides us with the pass-key to the 
 purpose of his court fools and clowns. In them the world's con- 
 fidential moments speak, when it is off its guard or has no motive 
 to dissimulate. And it is a benefit if men can discover their folly 
 by having it wisely shown to them." — Weiss, Wit, Humor, and 
 Shakspeare. 
 
SHAKESPEARE'S GRAMMAR AND VERSIFICATION 
 
 Shakespeare lived at a time when the grammar and vocabu- 
 lary of the English language were in a state of transition. Various 
 points were not yet settled; and so Shakespeare's grammar is not 
 only somewhat different from our own but is by no means uni- 
 form in itself. In the Elizabethan age, " almost any part of speech 
 can be used as any other part of speech. An adverb can be used 
 as a verb, 'They askance their eyes'; as a noun, 'the backward and 
 abysm of time '; or as an adjective, ' a seldom pleasure.' Any noun, 
 adjective, or intransitive verb can be used as a transitive verb. 
 You can 'happy' your friend, 'malice' or 'foot' your enemy, or 
 'fall' an axe on his neck. An adjective can be used as an adverb; 
 and you can speak and act 'easy,' 'free,' 'excellent'; or as a noun, 
 and you can talk of 'fair' instead of 'beauty,' and 'a pale' instead 
 of 'a paleness.' Even the pronouns are not exempt from these 
 metamorphoses. A ' he ' is used for a man, and a lady is described 
 by a gentleman as 'the fairest she he has yet beheld.' In the 
 second place, every variety of apparent grammatical inaccuracy 
 meets us. He for him, him for he; spoke and took for spoken and 
 taken; plural nominatives with singular verbs; relatives omitted 
 where they are now considered necessary; unnecessary antece- 
 dents inserted; shall for will, should for would, would for wish; to 
 omitted after / ought, inserted after / durst; double negatives; 
 double comparatives ('more better,' etc.) and superlatives; such 
 followed by which, that by as, as used for as if; that for so that; and 
 lastly some verbs apparently with two nominatives, and others 
 without any nominative at all." — Dr. Abbott's Shakespearian 
 Grammar. 
 
 Shakespeare's plays are written mainly in what is known as 
 blank verse; but they contain a number of riming lines, and a con- 
 
 22 
 
GRAMMAR AND VERSIFICATION 23 
 
 siderable number of prose lines. As a rule, rime is much commoner 
 in the earlier than in the later plays. Thus, Love's Labour 's Lost 
 contains nearly 1100 riming lines, while (if we except the songs) A 
 Winter's Tale has none. The Merchant of Venice has 124. 
 
 In speaking, we lay a stress on particular syllables; this stress is 
 called accent. When the words of a composition are so arranged 
 that the accent recurs at regular intervals, the composition is said 
 to be rhythmical. In blank verse the lines have usually ten syllables, 
 of which the second, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth are accented. 
 The line consists, therefore, of five parts, each of which contains 
 an unaccented syllable, followed by an accented one, as in the 
 word attend. Each of these five parts forms what is called a 
 foot or measure; and the five together form a pentameter. Pentam- 
 eter is a Greek word signifying "five measures." This is the 
 usual form of a fine of blank verse. But a long poem composed 
 entirely of such lines would be monotonous, and for the sake of 
 variety several important modifications have been introduced. 
 
 (a) After the tenth syllable, one or two unacoented syllables 
 are sometimes added; as — 
 
 " Me-thought|you said|you nei|ther lend|nor bor[row." 
 
 (6) In any foot the accent may be shifted from the second to the 
 first syllable, provided two accented syllables do not come to- 
 gether; as — 
 
 "Pluck' the|young suck'|ing cubs'|from the'|she bear' ." 
 
 (c) In such words as yesterday, voluntary, honesty, the syllables 
 -day, -ta-, and -ty falling in the place of the accent are, for the pur- 
 poses of the verse, regarded as truly accented ; as — 
 
 "Bars' me|the right'|of vol'-|un-ta'|ry choos'|ing." 
 
 (d) Sometimes we have a succession of accented syllables; this 
 occurs with monosyllabic feet only; as — 
 
 "Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark." 
 
24 INTRODUCTION 
 
 (e) Sometimes, bat more rarely, two or even three unaccented 
 syllables occupy the place of one; as — 
 
 "He says|he does,\be-ing then|most flat|ter-ed." 
 
 (/) Lines may have any number of feet from one to six. 
 
 Finally, Shakespeare adds much to the pleasing variety of his 
 blank verse by placing the pauses in different parts of the line 
 (especially after the second or third foot), instead of placing them 
 all at the end of lines, as was the earlier custom. 
 
 In some cases the rhythm requires that what we usually pro- 
 nounce as one syllable shall be divided into two, as fi-er (fire), 
 su-er (sure), mi-el (mile), etc.; too-elve (twelve), jaw-ee (joy). 
 Similarly, she-on (-tion or -sion). 
 
 It is very important that the student should have plenty of 
 ear-training by means of formal scansion. This will greatly 
 assist him in his reading. 
 
PLAN OF STUDY 
 
 To attain the standard of "Perfect Possession," the reader 
 ought to have an intimate and ready knowledge of the subject. 
 
 The student ought, first of all, to read the play as a pleasure; 
 then to read it again, with his mind on the characters and the 
 plot; and lastly, to read it for the meanings, grammar, etc. 
 
 With the help of the following outline, he can easily draw up 
 for himself short examination papers (1) on each scene, (2) on 
 each act, (3) on the whole play. 
 
 1. The plot and story of the play. 
 
 (a) The general plot. 
 (6) The special incidents. 
 
 2. The characters. 
 
 Ability to give a connected account of all that is done, and 
 most that is said by each character in the play. 
 
 3. The influence and interplay of the characters upon one 
 
 another. 
 
 (a) Relation of A to B and of B to A. 
 
 (6) Relation of A to C and D. 
 
 4. Complete possession of the language. 
 
 (a) Meanings of words. 
 
 (6) Use of old words, or of words in an old meaning. 
 
 (c) Grammar. 
 
 (d) Ability to quote lines to illustrate a grammatical point. 
 
 5. Power to reproduce, or quote. 
 
 (a) What was said by A or B on a particular occasion. 
 
 (b) What was said by A in reply to B. 
 
 (c) What argument was used by C at a particular juncture. 
 
 (d) To quote a line in instance of an idiom or of a peculiar 
 
 meaning. 
 
 25 
 
26 INTRODUCTION 
 
 6. Power to locate. 
 
 (a) To attribute a line or statement to a certain person 
 
 on a certain occasion. 
 (6) To cap a line, 
 (c) To fill in the right word or epithet. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Duke, living in banishment. 
 
 Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. 
 
 ' > lords attending on the banished duke. 
 Jaques, J 
 
 Le Beau, a courtier attending on Frederick. 
 
 Charles, wrestler to Frederick. 
 
 Oliver, ~) 
 
 Jaques, r sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. 
 
 Orlando, ) 
 
 ^ ' > servants to Oliver. 
 Dennis, ) 
 
 Touchstone, a clown. 
 
 Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. 
 
 Corin, 1 , 7 j 
 Y shepherds. 
 
 Silvius, j 
 
 William, a country fellow in love with Audrey. 
 
 A person representing Hymen. 
 
 Rosalind, daughter to the banished duke. 
 
 Celia, daughter to Frederick. 
 
 Phebe, a shepherdess. 
 
 Audrey, a country wench. 
 
 Lords, Pages, Foresters, and other attendants. 
 
 SCENE — Oliver's House; Duke Frederick's Court; and the 
 Forest of Arden. 
 
 28 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 Orchard of Oliver's house 
 Enter Orlando and Adam 
 Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this 
 fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand 
 crowns; and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on 
 his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my 
 sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and 
 report speaks goldenly of his profit; for my part, he 
 keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more prop- 
 erly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that 
 keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not 
 from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred bet- 10 
 ter; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, 
 they are taught their manage, and to that end riders 
 dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under 
 him but growth; for the which his animals on his 
 dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides 
 this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the 
 something that nature gave me his countenance 
 seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, 
 bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him 
 
 29 
 
30 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 lies, mines my gentility with my education. This 
 is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my 
 father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny 
 against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, 
 though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. 
 
 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 
 
 Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he 
 will shake me up. 
 
 Enter Oliver 
 
 Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? 
 
 Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any 
 thing. 
 
 Oli. What mar you then, sir? 
 
 Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
 which God made, a poor, unworthy brother of yours, 
 with idleness. 
 
 Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be 
 naught awhile. 
 
 Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with 
 them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I 
 should come to such penury? 
 
 Oli. Know you where you are, sir? 
 
 Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. 
 
 Oli. Know you before whom, sir? 
 
 Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. 
 I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle 
 condition of blood, you should so know me. The 
 courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you 
 are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not 
 
Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 31 
 
 away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt 
 us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, 
 I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his p« 
 reverence. 
 
 Oli. What, boy! 
 
 Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young 
 in this. 
 
 Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 
 
 Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir 
 Rowland de Boys : he was my father, and he is thrice 
 a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert 
 thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from 
 thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue 60 
 for saying so ; thou hast railed on thyself. 
 
 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your 
 father's remembrance, be at accord. 
 
 Oli. Let me go, I say. 
 
 Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. 
 My father charged you in his will to give me good 
 education: you have trained me like a peasant, ob- 
 scuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like quali- 
 ties. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and 
 I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such 70 
 exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the 
 poor allottery my father left me by testament; with 
 that I will go buy my fortunes. 
 • 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 have some part of your 
 will: I pray you, leave me. 
 
32 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes 
 me for my good. 
 
 Oli. Get you with him, you old dog! so 
 
 Adam. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I 
 have lost my teeth in your service. — God be with 
 my old master! he would not have spoke such a 
 word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam 
 
 Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? 
 I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand 
 crowns neither. — Holla, Dennis! 
 
 Enter Dennis 
 
 Den. Calls your worship? 
 
 Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here 
 to speak with me? 90 
 
 Den. So please you, he is here at the door and 
 importunes access to you. 
 
 Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis] 'T will be a 
 good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. 
 
 Enter Charles 
 
 Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 
 
 Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what 's the new 
 news at the new court? 
 
 Cha. There 's no news at the court, sir, but the 
 old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his 
 younger brother, the new duke; and three or four lov- 100 
 ing lords have put themselves into voluntary exile 
 with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new 
 duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. 
 
Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 33 
 
 Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, 
 be banished with her father? 
 
 Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, 
 so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred to- 
 gether, that she would have followed her exile, or 
 have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, 
 and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daugh- no 
 ter; and never two ladies loved as they do. 
 
 Oli. Where will the old duke live? 
 
 Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, 
 and a many merry men with him ; and there they live 
 like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many 
 young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet 
 the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. 
 
 Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new 
 duke? 
 
 Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you 120 
 with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to under- 
 stand that your younger brother Orlando hath a dis- 
 position to come in disguised against me to try a fall. 
 To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that 
 escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit 
 him well. Your brother is but young and tender; 
 and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I 
 must, for my own honour, if he come in. Therefore, 
 out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you 
 withal, that either you might stay him from his in- 130 
 tendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall run 
 into, in that it is a thing of his own search and alto- 
 gether against my will. 
 
34 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, 
 which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I 
 had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, 
 and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade 
 him from it; but he is resolute. I '11 tell thee, Charles, 
 it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of 
 ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good ho 
 parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me 
 his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I 
 had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. 
 And thou wert best look to % for, if thou dost him 
 any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace 
 himself on thee, he will practise against thee by 
 poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and 
 never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some 
 indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and al- 
 most with tears I speak it, there is not one so young 150 
 and so villanous this day living. I speak but broth- 
 erly of him; but, should I anatomize him to thee as 
 he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look 
 pale and wonder. 
 
 Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If 
 he come to-morrow, I '11 give him his payment: if 
 ever he go alone again, I '11 never wrestle for prize 
 more: and so, God keep your worship! 
 
 Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles] — 
 Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an igo 
 end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates 
 nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle, never 
 schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all 
 
Scenb II] AS YOU LIKE IT 35 
 
 sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much Jn 
 the heart of the world, and especially of my own 
 people, who best know him, that I am altogether 
 Srised. But it shall not be so ong; ^s wre^e 
 shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindl the 
 boy thither; which now I '11 go about. \*** 
 
 Scene II 
 Lawn before the Duke's palace 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia 
 Celia. I pray, thee, Rosalind, sweet, my coz, be 
 
 mC Z. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am 
 mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier Un- 
 less you could teach me to forget a banished father, 
 yon must not learn me how to remember any ex- 
 traordinary pleasure. 
 
 Celia Herein I see thou lovest me not with the 
 full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy ban- 
 iTther, had banished thy uncle, the duke m 
 father, so thou hadst been still with me I ^ h ave 
 taught my love to take thy father for mine, so 
 wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so 
 rishteouslv tempered as mine is to thee. 
 
 fios Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, 
 
 "S^nCw my father hath no child .but I, 
 nor none is like to have: and, truly, when he dies 
 thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away 
 
33 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in 20 
 affection. By mine honour I will; and when I break 
 that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet 
 Rose, my dear. Rose, be merry. 
 
 Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise 
 sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love? 
 
 Celia. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: 
 but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in 
 sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou 
 mayst in honour come off again. 
 
 Ros. What shall be our sport, then? 30 
 
 Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife 
 Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may hence- 
 forth be bestowed equally. 
 
 Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are 
 mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman 
 doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 
 
 Celia. 'T is true; for those that she makes fair, 
 she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes 
 honest, she makes very ill-favouredly. 
 
 Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office 40 
 to Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not 
 in the lineaments of Nature. 
 
 Enter Touchstone 
 Celia. No? when Nature hath made a fair crea- 
 ture, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? 
 Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at For- 
 tune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the 
 argument? 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 37 
 
 Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for Nature, 
 when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off 
 of Nature's wit. so 
 
 Celia. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work 
 neither, but Nature's; who, perceiving our natural 
 wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent 
 this natural for our whetstone ; for always the dulness 
 of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, 
 wit! whither wander you? 
 
 Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your 
 father. 
 
 Celia. Were you made the messenger? 
 
 Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come 60 
 for you. 
 
 Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? 
 
 Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his 
 honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his 
 honour the mustard was naught. Now I '11 stand to 
 it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was 
 good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. 
 
 Celia. How prove you that, in the great heap of 
 your knowledge? 
 
 Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 70 
 
 Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your 
 chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. 
 
 Celia. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 
 
 Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; 
 but, if you swear by that that is not, you are not 
 forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his 
 honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had 
 
3S AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or 
 that mustard. 
 
 Celia. Prithee, who is 't that thou meanest? so 
 
 Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. 
 
 Celia. My father's love is enough to honour him 
 enough: speak no more of him; you '11 be whipped 
 for taxation one of these days. 
 
 Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak 
 wisely what wise men do foolishly. 
 
 Celia. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since 
 the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little 
 foolery that wise men have makes a great show. 
 Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 90 
 
 Ros. With his mouth full of news. 
 
 Celia. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 
 their young. 
 
 Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. 
 
 Celia. All the better; we shall be the more 
 marketable. — 
 
 Enter Le Beau 
 Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : what 's the news? 
 
 Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good 
 sport. 
 
 Celia. Sport! of what colour? 100 
 
 Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I 
 answer you? 
 
 Ros. As wit and fortune will. 
 
 Touch. Or as the destinies decree. 
 
 Celia. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 39 
 
 Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, — 
 
 Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 
 
 Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told 
 you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight 
 of. no 
 
 Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 
 
 Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it 
 please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the 
 best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are 
 coming to perform it. 
 
 Celia. Well — the beginning, that is dead and 
 buried. 
 
 Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three 
 sons, — 
 
 Celia. I could match this beginning with an old 120 
 tale. 
 
 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 
 growth and presence. 
 
 Ros. With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto 
 all men by these presents.' 
 
 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with 
 Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a mo- 
 ment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that 
 there is little hope of life in him : so he served the sec- 
 ond, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old 130 
 man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them 
 that all the beholders take his part with weeping. 
 
 Ros. Alas! 
 
 Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the 
 ladies have lost? 
 
40 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 
 
 Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It 
 is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs 
 was sport for ladies. 
 
 Celia. Or I, I promise thee. no 
 
 Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken 
 music in his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon 
 rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? 
 
 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is 
 the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are 
 ready to perform it. 
 
 Celia. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now 
 stay and see it. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, 
 Charles, and Attendants 
 
 Duke F. Come on : since the youth will not be en- 
 treated, his own peril on his forwardness. 150 
 
 Ros. Is yonder the man? 
 
 Le Beau. Even he, madam. 
 
 Celia. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks success- 
 fully. 
 
 Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin! are you 
 crept hither to see the wrestling? 
 
 Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. 
 
 Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can 
 tell you, there is such odds in the man. In pity of 
 the challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but iao 
 he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see 
 if you can move him. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 41 
 
 Celia. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 
 
 Duke F. Do so : I '11 not be by. 
 
 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess 
 calls for you. 
 
 Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. 
 
 Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
 the wrestler? 
 
 Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: 170 
 I come but in, as others do, to try with him the 
 strength of my youth. 
 
 Celia. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold 
 for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this 
 man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes 
 or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear 
 of your adventure would counsel you to a more 
 equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, 
 to embrace your own safety and give over this 
 attempt. iso 
 
 Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 
 therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit 
 to the duke that the wrestling might not go for- 
 ward. 
 
 Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your 
 hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty 
 to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But 
 let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to 
 my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one 
 shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one 190 
 dead that is willing to be so. I shall do my friends 
 no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world 
 
42 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world 
 I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I 
 have made it empty. 
 
 Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it 
 were with you. 
 
 Celia. And mine, to eke out hers. 
 
 Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived 
 in you! aoo 
 
 Celia. Your heart's desires be with you! 
 
 Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so 
 desirous to lie with his mother earth? 
 
 Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more 
 modest working. 
 
 Duke F. You shall try but one fall. 
 
 Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not en- 
 treat him to a second, that have so mightily per- 
 suaded him from a first. 
 
 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not 210 
 have mocked me before: but come your ways. 
 
 Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! 
 
 Celia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong 
 fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando wrestle 
 
 Ros. O excellent young man! 
 
 Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I 
 can tell who should down. 
 
 [Charles is thrown. Shout 
 
 Duke F. No more, no more. 
 
 Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace: I am not yet well 
 breathed. 220 
 
 Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 43 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
 Duke F. Bear him away. — What is thy name, 
 young man? 
 
 Orl. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir 
 Rowland de Boys. 
 
 Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some 
 man else. 
 The world esteemed thy father honourable, 
 But I did find him still mine enemy: 
 Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed 230 
 Hadst thou descended from another house. 
 But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: 
 I would thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 / [Exeunt Duke Frederick, train, and Le Beau 
 \/Celia. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? 
 
 Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, 
 His youngest son; and would not change that calling, 
 To be adopted heir to Frederick. 
 
 Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, 
 And all the world was of my father's mind: 
 Had I before known this young man his son, 240 
 
 I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 
 Ere he should thus have ventured. 
 
 Celia. Gentle cousin, 
 
 Let us go thank him and encourage him: 
 My father's rough and envious disposition 
 Sticks me at heart. — Sir, you have well deserved; 
 If you do keep your promises in love 
 But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
44 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 Ros. Gentleman, 
 
 [Giving him a chain from, her neck 
 Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, 
 That could give more, but that her hand lacks 
 
 means. — 250 
 
 Shall we go, coz? 
 
 Celia. Ay. — Fare you well, fair gentleman. 
 
 Orl. Can I not say I thank you? My better parts 
 Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up 
 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
 
 Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for- 
 tunes; 
 I '11 ask him what he would. — Did you call, sir? — 
 Sir you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
 More than your enemies. 
 
 Celia. Will you go, coz? 
 
 Ros. Have with you. — Fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia 
 Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my 
 tongue? 2G0 
 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
 O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! 
 "-Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 
 
 Re-enter Le Beau 
 Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 
 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
 High commendation, true applause, and love, 
 Yet such is now the duke's condition 
 That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
 
 I 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 45 
 
 The duke is humorous: what he is, indeed, 
 
 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 270 
 
 Orl. I thank you, sir; and, pray you, tell me this: 
 Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
 That here was at the wrestling? 
 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
 manners; 
 But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter: 
 The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, 
 And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, 
 To keep his daughter company; whose loves 
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
 But I can tell you, that of late this duke 2so 
 
 Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, 
 Grounded upon no other argument 
 But that the people praise her for her virtues, 
 And pity her for her good father's sake; 
 And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
 Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: 
 Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
 
 Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well. 
 
 [Exit Le Beau 
 Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; 290 
 
 s From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : — 
 But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit 
 
40 AS YOU LIKE IT [AcT r 
 
 Scene III 
 4 room in the palace 
 Enter Celia arerf Rosalind 
 Crfio. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have 
 mercy! not a word? P C 
 
 Ros. Not one to throw at a dog 
 Celia. No, thy words are too precious to be cast 
 away upon curs; throw some of them at me- come 
 lame me with reasons. ' 
 
 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when 
 
 Celia. But is all this for your father? 
 
 O hZ , n Tu e ° f * iS f ° r my child ' s ^ther. 
 O, how full of briers is this working-day world! 
 
 Ceha. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon 
 
 t e » holiday foolery: if we walk not in the troddL 
 
 paths, our very petticoats will catch them 
 
 aret my Wt. Shake *** " "* "* *"" *» 
 
 Celia. Hem them away. 
 
 CeL 'caf try ' ^ T C ° Uld ° ry hem and have hhn.' 
 Ufea. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. 2C 
 
 than S m yllt y ^ ^ ^ ° f a "*« —tier 
 
 w'? ?' a g °° d Wi8h Up ° n you! y° u Will try in 
 toe, m despite of a fall. But, turning these jests 
 out of service, let us talk in „ood earnest: is" p 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 47 
 
 sible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong 
 a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? 
 
 Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 
 
 Celia. Doth it therefore ensue that you should 
 love his son dearly? By this kind of chase I should 30 
 hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet 
 I hate not Orlando. 
 
 Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
 
 Celia. Why should I not? doth he not deserve 
 well? 
 
 Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love 
 him because I do. Look, here comes the duke. /^ 
 
 Celia. With his eyes full of anger. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords 
 
 Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest 
 haste 
 And get you from our court. 
 
 Ros. Me, uncle? 
 
 Duke F. You, cousin: 40 
 
 Within these ten days if that thou be'st found 
 So near our public court as twenty miles, 
 Thou diest for it. 
 
 Ros. I do beseech your Grace, 
 
 Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: 
 If with myself I hold intelligence 
 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, 
 If that I do not dream or be not frantic, — 
 As I do trust I am not, — then, dear uncle, 
 Never so much as in a thought unborn 
 
48 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 Did I offend your highness. 
 
 Duke F. Thus do all traitors: 50 
 
 If their purgation did consist in words, 
 They are as innocent as grace itself: 
 Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. 
 
 Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor : 
 Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 
 
 Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; there 's 
 enough. 
 
 Ros. So was I when your highness took his duke- 
 dom; 
 So was I when your highness banish'd him: 
 Treason is not inherited, my lord; 
 
 Or, if we did derive it from our friends, go 
 
 What 's that to me? my father was no traitor: 
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
 To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 
 Celia. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 
 
 Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, 
 Else had she with her father ranged along. 
 
 Celia. I did not then entreat to have her stay; 
 It was your pleasure and your own remorse: 
 I was too young that time to value her, 
 But now I know her : if she be a traitor, 70 
 
 Why so am I ; we still have slept together, 
 Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled and inseparable. 
 
 Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her 
 smoothness, 
 
Scene III] LJ YOU LIKE IT 49 
 
 Her very silence, and her patience 
 
 Speak to the >eople, and they pity her. 
 
 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; 
 
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more 
 
 virtuous 
 When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : so 
 
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
 Which I have passed upon her; she is banish'd. 
 
 Celia. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my 
 liege : 
 I cannot live out of her company. 
 
 Duke F. You are a fool. — You, niece, provide 
 yourself : 
 If you outstay the time, upon mine honour 
 And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords 
 
 Celia. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? 
 Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. 
 I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. oo 
 
 Ros. I have more cause. 
 
 Celia. Thou hast not, cousin; 
 
 Prithee, be cheerful: know'st thou not the duke 
 Hath banish'd me, his daughter? 
 
 Ros. That he hath not. 
 
 Celia. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 
 Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: 
 Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? 
 No; let my father seek another heir. 
 Therefore devise with me how we may fly, 
 Whither to go, and what to bear with us; 
 
50 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act I 
 
 And do not seek to take your chat i vou, i< 
 
 To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; 
 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
 Say what thou canst, I '11 go along with thee. 
 
 Ros. Why, whither shall we go? 
 
 Celia. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. 
 
 Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! 
 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
 
 Celia. I '11 put myself in poor and mean attire, 
 And with a kind of umber smirch my face; no 
 
 The like do you : so shall we pass along 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 Ros. Were it not better, 
 
 Because that I am more than common tall, 
 That I did suit me all points like a man? 
 A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, 
 A boar-spear in my hand; and* — in my heart 
 Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will — 
 We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside, 
 As many other mannish cowards have 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 120 
 
 Celia. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? 
 
 Ros. I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own 
 page; 
 And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
 But what will you be call'd? 
 
 Celia. Something that hath a reference to my 
 state ; 
 No longer Celia, but Aliena. 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 51 
 
 Ros. But, cousin, what if wc assay'd to steal 
 The clownish fool out of your father's court? 
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel? 
 
 Celia. He '11 go along o'er the wide world with me; 13 > 
 Leave me alone to woo him. Let 's away, 
 And get our jewels and our wealth together, 
 Devise the fittest time and safest way 
 To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
 After my flight. Now go we jrtcontent 
 To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 The Forest of Arden 
 
 Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, 
 like foresters 
 Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the envious court? 
 Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. 
 The seasons' difference, — as the icy fang 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, 
 Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say 
 'This is no flattery,' — these are counsellors 10 
 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
 / Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 
 And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing, v 
 
 Ami. I would not change it. Happy is your Ghtce, 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20 
 
Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 53 
 
 Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? 
 And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, 
 Being native burghers of this desert city, 
 Should, in their own confines, with forked heads 
 Have their round haunches gored. 
 
 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. 
 To-day my lord of Amiens and myself 
 Did steal behind him as he lay along 30 
 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
 To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
 That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come to languish; and indeed, my lord, 
 The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting, and the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, 40 
 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. But what said Jaques? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle? 
 
 1 Lord. 0, yes, into a thousand similes. 
 First, for his weeping into the needless stream; ' 
 'Poor deer/ quoth he, 'thou makest a testament 
 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
 
54 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 To that which had too much.' Then, being there 
 
 alone, 
 Left and abandon' d of his velvet friends, 50 
 
 "T is right,' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part 
 The flux of company.' Anon a careless herd, 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
 And never stays to greet him; 'Ay,' quoth Jaques, 
 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 
 'T is just the fashion: wherefore do you look 
 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? ' 
 Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
 The body of the country, city, court, 
 Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we go 
 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what 's worse, 
 To fright the animals, and to kill them up 
 In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. 
 
 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem- 
 plation? 
 
 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
 menting 
 Upon the sobbing deer. 
 
 Duke S. Show me the place; 
 
 I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 
 For then he 's full of matter. 
 
 1 Lord. I '11 bring you to him straight. [Exeunt 
 
Scene \I] AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 55 
 
 Scene II 
 A room in the palace 
 Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords 
 DukeF. Can it be possible that no man saw 
 them? 
 It cannot be: some villains of my court 
 Are of consent and sufferance in this. 
 
 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. 
 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 
 
 Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early 
 
 They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. 
 
 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so 
 oft 
 
 Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
 Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, 
 Confesses that she secretly o'erheard 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 The parts and graces of the wrestler 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; 
 And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
 That youth is surely in their company. 
 Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant 
 hither; 
 If he be absent, bring his brother to me; 
 I '11 make him find him: do this suddenly; 
 And let not search and inquisition quail 
 To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt 
 
 10 
 
 20 
 
5G AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Before Oliver's house 
 
 Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting 
 
 Orl. Who 'a there? 
 
 Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle 
 master! 
 O my sweet master! O you memory 
 Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? 
 Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? 
 Why would you be so fond to overcome 
 The bonny priser of the humorous duke? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
 Know you not, master, to some kind of men 10 
 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies? 
 No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it! 
 
 Orl. Why, what 's the matter? 
 
 Adam. unhappy youth! 
 
 Come not within these doors; within this roof 
 The enemy of all your graces lives: 
 Your brother — no, no brother; yet the son — 
 Yet not the son, I will not call him son 2u 
 
 Of him I was about to call his father — 
 Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
 To burn the lodging where you use to lie, 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT ^7 
 
 And you within it: if he fail of that, 
 
 He will have other means to cut you off. 
 
 I overheard him and his practices. 
 
 This is no place; this house is but a butchery: 
 
 Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 
 
 Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have 
 
 me go? 
 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here, so 
 Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and bes mv 
 food? 
 Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
 A thievish living on the common road? 
 This I must do, or know not what to do : 
 Yet this I will not do, do how I can; 
 I rather will subject me to the malice 
 Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. 
 Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred 
 crowns, 
 The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 
 
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 
 And unregarded age in corners thrown: 
 Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
 Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; 
 All this I give you. > Let me be your servant: 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 5a 
 
58 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 The means of weakness and debility; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; 
 I '11 do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world, 
 When service sweat for duty, not for meed! 
 Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
 Where none will sweat but for promotion, Q 
 
 And having that, do choke their service up 
 Even with the having; it is not so with thee. 
 But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield 
 In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 
 But come thy ways; we '11 go along together, 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
 We '11 light upon some settled low content. 
 
 Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, 
 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 70 
 
 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
 Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
 At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; 
 But at fourscore it is too late a week: 
 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 
 Than to die well and not my master's debtor. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 59 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 The Forest of Arden 
 
 Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, 
 and Touchstone 
 
 Ros. Jupiter, how merry are my spirits ! 
 
 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
 not weary. 
 
 Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's 
 apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must com- 
 fort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to 
 show itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, cour- 
 age, good Aliena! 
 
 Celia. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no 
 further. 
 
 Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you 
 than bear you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear 
 you, for I think you have no money in your purse. 
 
 Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 
 
 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I! 
 when I was at home, I was in a better place; but 
 travellers must be content. 
 
 Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.— Look you, 
 who comes here; a young man and an old in 
 solemn talk. 
 
 Enter Corin and Silvius 
 Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
 Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! 
 
 10 
 
 20 
 
GO AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 Cor. I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. 
 
 Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, 
 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
 As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: 
 But if thy love were ever like to mine — 
 As sure I think did never man love so — 
 How many actions most ridiculous 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? 30 
 
 Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
 
 Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! 
 If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
 That ever love did make thee run into, 
 Thou hast not loved : 
 Or, if thou hast not sat, as I do now, 
 Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
 Thou hast not loved: 
 Or if thou hast not broke from company 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 4<? 
 
 Thou hast not loved. 
 
 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit 
 Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, 
 
 1 have by hard adventure found mine own. 
 Touch. And I mine. I remember when I was in 
 
 love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him 
 take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I 
 remember the kissing of her batler and the cow's 
 dugs that her pretty chapped hands had milked; 
 and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of w 
 her, from whom I took two cods and, giving h?r 
 them again, said with weeping tears, 'Wear these for 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 61 
 
 my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange 
 capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature 
 in love mortal in folly. 
 
 Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. 
 
 Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit 
 till I break my shins against it. 
 
 Ros. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion 
 Is much upon my fashion. 
 
 Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale 
 with me. 
 
 Celia. I pray you, one of you question yond man 
 If he for gold will give us any food: 
 I faint almost to death. 
 
 Touch. Holla, you clown! 
 
 Ros. Peace, fool: he 's not thy kinsman. 
 
 Cor ' Who calls? 
 
 Touch. Your betters, sir. 
 
 Cnr - Else are they very wretched. 
 
 Ros. Peace, I say. — Good even to you, friend. 
 
 Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
 
 Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold 
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
 Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: 
 Here 'a a young maid with travel much oppress'd 
 And faints for succour. 
 
 Cor - Fair sir, I pity her, 
 
 And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, 
 My fortunes were more able to relieve her; 
 But I am shepherd to another man 
 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: 
 
 60 
 
 70 
 
62 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 My master is of churlish disposition 
 
 And little recks to find the way to heaven so 
 
 By doing deeds of hospitality. 
 
 Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed 
 
 Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, 
 
 By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
 
 That you will feed on; but what is, come see, 
 
 And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 
 
 Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
 pasture? 
 
 Cor. That young swain that you saw here but 
 erewhile, 
 That little cares for buying any thing. 
 
 Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 90 
 
 Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, 
 And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 
 
 Celia. And we will mend thy wages. I like this 
 place, 
 And willingly could waste my time in it. 
 
 Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold; 
 Go with me : if you like upon report 
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
 I will your very faithful feeder be, 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt 
 
Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 63 
 
 Scene V 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others 
 
 SONG 
 
 Ami. Under the greenwood tree 
 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 And turn his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither: 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. 
 
 Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur 10 
 Jaques. 
 
 Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can 
 suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks 
 eggs. More, I prithee, more. 
 
 Ami. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please 
 you. 
 
 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire 
 you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo; call you 
 'em stanzos? 
 
 Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. 20 
 
 Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe 
 me nothing. Will you sing? 
 
 Ami. More at your request than to please myself. 
 
 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I '11 
 thank you: but that they call compliment is like the 
 
64 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks 
 me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny, 
 and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, 
 sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. 
 
 Ami. Well, I '11 end the song. — Sirs, cover the 
 while; the duke will drink under this tree. — He hath 
 been all this day to look you. 
 
 Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. 
 He is too disputable for my company; I think of as 
 many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and 
 make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. 
 
 song [All together here 
 
 Who doth ambition shun 
 And loves to live i' the sun, 
 Seeking the food he eats, 
 
 And pleased with what he gets, 40 
 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither: 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Jaq. I '11 give you a verse to this note, that I made 
 yesterday in despite of my invention. 
 Ami. And I '11 sing it. 
 Jaq. Thus it goes: — 
 
 If it do come to pass 
 
 That any man turn ass, 50 
 
 Leaving his wealth and ease 
 A stubborn will to please, 
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: 
 Here shall he see 
 Gross fools as he, 
 An if he will come to me. 
 
Scene VI] AS YOU LIKE IT 65 
 
 Ami. What 's that ' ducdame? ' 
 
 Jaq. 'T is a Greek invocation, to call fools into a 
 circle. I '11 go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I '11 rail 
 against all the first-born of Egypt. 60 
 
 Ami. And I '11 go seek the duke; his banquet is 
 prepared. [Exeunt severally 
 
 Scene VI 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Orlando and Adam 
 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I die 
 for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. 
 Farewell, kind master. 
 
 Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in 
 thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a 
 little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, 
 I will either be food for it or bring it for food to 
 thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. 
 For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at 
 the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; and 10 
 if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee 
 leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art 
 a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou lookest 
 cheerly, and I '11 be with thee quickly. Yet thou 
 liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some 
 shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, 
 if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, 
 good Adam! [Exeunt 
 
GG AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 Scene VII 
 
 The forest 
 
 A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and 
 Lords like outlaws 
 
 Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast, 
 For I can no where find him like a man. 
 
 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence: 
 Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 
 
 Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, 
 We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. 
 Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him. 
 
 Enter Jaques 
 
 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. 
 
 Duke S. Why, .how now, monsieur! what a life 
 is this 
 That your poor friends must woo your company! 
 What, you look merrily! 
 
 Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest, 
 A motley fool ; — a miserable world ! — 
 As I do live by food, I met a fool; 
 Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun 
 And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, 
 In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. 
 'Good morrow, fool/ quoth I. 'No, sir/ quoth he, 
 ' Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune/ 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke, 
 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
 
Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 67 
 
 Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: 
 
 Thus we may see/ quoth he, 'how the world wags: 
 
 'T is but an hour ago since it was nine, 
 
 And after one hour more 't will be eleven; 
 
 And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
 
 And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; 
 
 And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear 
 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
 
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 30 
 
 That fools should be so deep-contemplative; 
 
 And I did laugh sans intermission 
 
 An hour by his dial. — O noble fool! 
 
 A worthy fool ! Motley 's the only wear. 
 
 DukeS. What fool is this? 
 
 Jaq. worthy fool! One that hath been a 
 courtier, 
 And says, if ladies be but young and fair, 
 They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 40 
 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms. — 0, that I were a fool! 
 I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
 
 Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
 
 Jaq. It is my only suit; 
 
 Provided that you weed your better judgements 
 Of all opinion that grows rank in them 
 That I am wise. I must have liberty 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
 Terblow on whom I please; for so fools have; 
 
68 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 And they that are most galled with my folly, 
 
 They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? 
 
 The 'why' is plain as way to parish church: 
 
 He that a fool doth very wisely hit 
 
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
 
 Seem senseless of the bob : if not, 
 
 The wise man's folly is armtomizpH ) 
 
 Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
 
 Invest me in my motley; give me leave 
 
 To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
 
 Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
 
 If they will patiently receive my medicine. 
 
 Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst 
 do. 
 
 Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good? 
 
 Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin : 
 For thou thyself hast been a libertine, 
 As sensual as the brutish sting itself; 
 And all the embossed sores and headed evils, 
 That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
 Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 
 
 Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 
 That can therein tax any private party? 
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, 
 Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? 
 What woman in the city do I name 
 When that I say the city-woman bears 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 
 W"ho can come in and say that I mean her, 
 When such a one as she such is her neighbour? 
 
Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 69 
 
 Or what is he of basest function 
 
 That says his bravery is not on my cost, so 
 
 Thinking that I mean him. but therein suits 
 
 His folly to the mettle of my speech? 
 
 There then; how then? what then? Let me see 
 
 wherein 
 My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, 
 Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free, 
 Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, 
 Unclaim'd of any man. — But who comes here? 
 
 Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn 
 Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 
 Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. 
 
 Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. 
 Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? 90 
 
 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy 
 distress, 
 Or else a rude despiser of good manners, 
 That in civility thou seem'st so empty? 
 
 Orl. You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point 
 Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
 Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred 
 And know some nurture. But forbear, I say: 
 He dies that touches any of this fruit 
 Till I and my affairs are answered. 
 
 Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I 
 
 must die. 100 
 
 Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness 
 \ shall force 
 
70 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 More than your force move us to gentleness. 
 
 Orl. I almost die for food; and let me have it. 
 
 Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our 
 table. 
 
 Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray 
 you: 
 I thought that all things had been savage here; 
 And therefore put I on the countenance 
 Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are 
 That in this desert inaccessible, 
 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, no 
 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; 
 If ever you have look'd on better days, 
 If ever been where bells have knoll' d to church, 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast, 
 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, 
 And know what 't is to pity and be pitied, — 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: 
 In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. 
 
 Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days, 
 And have with holy bell been knoll' d to church, 120 
 
 And sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes 
 Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd; 
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness, 
 And take upon command what help we have 
 That to your wanting may be minister' d. 
 
 Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, 
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn 
 And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 
 
Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 71 
 
 Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed, 130 
 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, 
 I will not touch a bit. 
 
 Duke S. Go find him out, 
 
 And we will nothing waste till you return. 
 
 Orl. I thank ye: and be blest for y ur good 
 comfort. [Exit 
 
 Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: 
 This wide and universal theatre 
 Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaq. ^All the world 's a stage, 
 
 And all the men and women merely players: 
 They have their exits and their entrances; 140 
 
 And one man in his time plays many parts, 
 His acts being seven ages. v At first the infant, 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
 And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
 Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 150 
 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 
 Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, 
 In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
 Fall of wise saws and modern instances; 
 Anr 1 so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
 
72 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act II 
 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
 
 With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 
 
 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
 
 For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, lex 
 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 
 And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 
 Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 
 
 Re-enter Orlando with Adam 
 
 Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable 
 burthen, 
 And let him feed. 
 
 Orl. I thank you most for him. 
 
 Adam. So had you need; 
 
 I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you 17c 
 As yet, to question you about your fortunes. — 
 Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 
 Thou art not so unkind 
 As man's ingratitude; 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: iso 
 Then, heigh-ho, the holly! 
 This life is most jolly. 
 
Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 73 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 That dost not bite so nigh 
 
 As benefits forgot: 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 
 As friend remember'd not. 
 Heigh-ho! sing, etc. 
 
 Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's 
 son, loo 
 
 As you have whisper' d faithfully you were, 
 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
 Most truly limn'd and living in your face, 
 Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke 
 That loved your father. The residue of your fortune, 
 Go to my cave and tell me. — Good old man, 
 Thou art right welcome as thy master is. — 
 Support him by the arm. — Give me your hand, 
 And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A room in the palace 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver 
 
 Duke F. Not seen him since? Sir, sir, that can- 
 not be : 
 But were I not the better part made mercy, 
 I should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: 
 Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; 
 Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living . 
 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
 To seek a living in our territory. 
 Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine 
 Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, 10 
 
 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth 
 Of what we think against thee. 
 
 Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! 
 I never loved my brother in my life. 
 
 Duke F. More villain thou. — Well, push him 
 out of doors; 
 And let my officers of such a nature 
 Make an extent upon his house and lands: 
 Do this expediently and turn him going. [Exeunt 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 75 
 
 Scene II 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Orlando, with a paper 
 
 Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
 
 And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
 
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
 
 Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. 
 O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, 
 
 And in their barks my thoughts I '11 character; 
 That every eye which in this forest looks 
 
 Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. 
 Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree 
 The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. [Exit 10 
 
 Enter Corin and Touchstone 
 Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, 
 Master Touchstone? 
 
 Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a 
 good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, 
 it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it 
 very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a 
 very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it 
 pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not in the court, 
 it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits 
 my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in 20 
 it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any 
 philosophy in thee, shepherd? 
 
 Cor. No more but that I know the more one sick- 
 
7G AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 ens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants 
 money, means, and content is without three good 
 friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire 
 to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that 
 a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that 
 he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may 
 complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull 30 
 kindred. 
 
 Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast 
 ever in court, shepherd? 
 
 Cor. No, truly. 
 
 Touch. Then thou art damned. 
 
 Cor. Nay, I hope, — 
 
 Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted 
 egg all on one side. 
 
 Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. 
 
 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 40 
 never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest 
 good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; 
 and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou 
 art in a parlous state, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are 
 good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the 
 country as the behaviour of the country is most mock- 
 able at the court. You told me you salute not at the 
 court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would 
 be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. 50 
 
 Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. 
 
 Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and 
 their fells, you know, are greasy. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 77 
 
 Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? 
 and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as 
 the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better 
 instance, I say; come. 
 
 Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 
 
 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. 
 Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come. go 
 
 Cor. And they are often tarred over with the sur- 
 gery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? 
 The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. 
 
 Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in 
 respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn of the 
 wise and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, 
 the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, 
 shepherd. 
 
 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me : I '11 rest. 
 
 Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, 70 
 shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw. 
 
 Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, 
 get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's 
 happiness, glad of other men's good, content with 
 my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my 
 ewes graze and my lambs suck. 
 
 Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to bring 
 the ewes and the rams together. If thou be'st not 
 damned for this, the devil himself will have no 
 shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst so 
 'scape. 
 
 Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my 
 new mistress's brother. 
 
 
7S AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Enter Rosalind, with a paper, reading 
 
 Ros. From the east to western Ind, 
 No jewel is like Rosalind. 
 Her worth, being mounted on the wind, 
 Through all the world bears Rosalind. 
 All the pictures fairest lined 
 Are but black to Rosalind. 
 
 Let no face be kept in mind 90 
 
 But the fair of Rosalind. 
 
 Touch. I '11 rhyme you so eight years together, 
 dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: 
 it is the right butterwomen's rank to market. 
 
 Ros. Out, fool! 
 
 Touch. For a taste: 
 
 If a hart do lack a hind, 
 
 Let him seek out Rosalind. 
 
 If the cat will after kind, 
 
 So be sure will Rosalind. 100 
 
 Winter garments must be lined, 
 
 So must slender Rosalind. 
 
 They that reap must sheaf and bind, 
 
 Then to cart with Rosalind. 
 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 
 
 Such a nut is Rosalind. 
 
 He that sweetest rose will find 
 
 Must find love's prick and Rosalind. 
 
 This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you 
 infect yourself with them? 110 
 
 Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. 
 
 Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
 
 Ros. I '11 graff it with you, and then I shall graff 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 79 
 
 it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit i' 
 the country; for.ypu '11 be rotten ere you be half ripe, 
 and that 's the right virtue of the medlar. 
 
 Touch. You have said; but, whether wisely or no, 
 let the forest judge. 
 
 Enter Celia, with a writing 
 Ros. Peace! 
 Here comes my sister reading; stand aside. 120 
 
 Celia. [Reads] 
 
 Why should this a desert be? 
 
 For it is unpeopled? No; 
 Tongues I '11 hang on every tree, 
 
 That shall civil sayings show: 
 Some, how brief the life of man 
 
 Runs his erring pilgrimage, 
 That the stretching of a span 
 
 Buckles in his sum of age; 
 Some, of violated vows 
 
 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: 130 
 
 But, upon the fairest boughs, 
 
 Or at every sentence end, 
 Will I Rosalinda write, 
 
 Teaching all that read to know 
 The quintessence of every sprite 
 
 Heaven would in little show. 
 Therefore Heaven Nature charged 
 
 That one body should be fill'd 
 With all graces wide-enlarged: 
 
 Nature presently distill'd 140 
 
 Helen's cheek, but not her heart, 
 
 Cleopatra's majesty, 
 Atalanta's better part, 
 
SO AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Sad Lucretia's modesty. 
 Thus Rosalind of many parts 
 
 By heavenly synod was devised, 
 Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, 
 
 To have the touches dearest prized. 
 Heaven would that she these gifts should have, 
 And I to live and die her slave. 
 
 Ros. O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily 
 of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, 
 and never cried, 'Have patience, good people!' 
 
 Celia. How now ! back, friends ! — Shepherd, go 
 off a little. — Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honour- 
 able retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet 
 with scrip and scrippage. 
 
 [Exeunt Corin and Touchstone 
 
 Celia. Didst thou hear these verses? 
 
 Ros. 0, yes, I heard them all and more too; for 
 some of them had in them more feet than the verses 
 would bear. 
 
 Celia. That 's no matter: the feet might bear the 
 verses. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not 
 bear themselves without the verse, and therefore 
 stood lamely in the verse. 
 
 Celia. But didst thou hear without wondering 
 how thy name should be hanged and carved upon 
 these trees? 
 
 Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the 
 wonder before you came; for look here what I found 
 on a palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 81 
 
 Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I 
 can hardly remember. 
 
 Celia. Trow you who hath done this? 
 
 Ros. Is it a man? 
 
 Celia. And a chain, that you once wore, about 
 his neck. Change you colour? 
 
 Ros. I prithee, who? iso 
 
 Celia. O Lord, Lord! It is a hard matter for 
 friends to meet; but mountains may be removed 
 with earthquakes and so encounter. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but who is it? 
 
 Celia. Is it possible? 
 
 Ros. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary 
 vehemence, tell me who it is. 
 
 Celia. O wonderful, wonderful, and most won- 
 derful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and 
 after that, out of all whooping! 190 
 
 \/Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, 
 though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a 
 doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of 
 delay more is a South-sea of discovery; I prithee, 
 tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would 
 thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour 
 this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine 
 comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too 
 much at once or none at all. I prithee, take the cork 
 out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. Is 200 
 he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his 
 head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? 
 
 Celia. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
 
82 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will 
 be thankful; let me stay the growth of his beard, 
 if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 
 
 Celia. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the 
 wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, 
 sad brow and true maid. 
 
 Celia. F faith, coz, 't is he. 
 
 Ros. Orlando? 
 
 Celia. Orlando. 
 
 Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my 
 doublet and hose? What did he when thou sawest 
 him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein 
 went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? 
 Wi.5re remains he? How parted he with thee? and 
 when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one 
 word. 
 
 Celia. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth 
 first: 't is a word too great for any mouth of this 
 age's size. To say ay and no to these particulars is 
 more than to answer in a catechism. 
 
 Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest 
 and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he 
 did the day he wrestled? 
 
 Celia. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve 
 the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my 
 finding him, and relish it with good observance. I 
 found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. 
 
 Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it 
 drops forth such fruit. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 83 
 
 Celia. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Ros. Proceed. 
 
 Celia. There he lay, stretched along, like a 
 wounded knight. 
 
 Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well 
 becomes the ground. 
 
 Celia. Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it 240 
 curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a 
 hunter. 
 
 Ros. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. 
 
 Celia. I would sing my song without a burthen; 
 thou bringest me out of tune. 
 
 Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I 
 think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 
 
 Celia. You bring me out. — Soft ! comes he not hei^? 
 
 Enter Orlando and Jaques 
 
 Ros. 'T is he; slink by, and note him. 
 
 Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good 250 
 faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. 
 
 Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I 
 thank you too for your society. 
 
 Jaq. God be wi' you! let 's meet as little as we 
 can. 
 
 Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 
 
 Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing 
 love-songs in their barks. 
 
 Orl. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with 
 reading them ill-favouredly. 200 
 
 Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name? 
 
84 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Orl. Yes, just. 
 
 Jaq. I do not like her name. 
 
 Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when 
 she was christened. 
 
 Jaq. What stature is she of? 
 
 Orl. Just as high as my heart. 
 
 Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you 
 not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and 
 conned them out of rings? 
 
 Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted 
 cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. 
 
 Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think 't was made 
 of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? 
 and we two will rail against our mistress the world 
 and all our misery. 
 
 Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but my- 
 self, against whom I know most faults. 
 
 Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. 
 
 Orl. 'T is a fault I will not change for your best 
 virtue. I am weary of you. 
 
 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when 
 I found you. 
 
 Orl. He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and 
 you shall see him. 
 
 Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. 
 
 Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. 
 
 Jaq. I '11 tarry no longer with you; farewell, good 
 Signior Love. 
 
 Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good 
 Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 85 
 
 Ros. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a 
 saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave 
 with him. — Do you hear, forester? 
 
 Orl. Very well; what would you? 
 
 Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock? 
 
 Orl. You should ask me what time o' day; there 's 
 no clock in the forest. 
 
 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; 
 else sighing every minute and groaning every hour 300 
 would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. 
 
 Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? had 
 not that been as proper? 
 
 Ros. By no means, sir; Time travels in divers 
 paces with divers persons. I '11 tell you who Time 
 ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time 
 gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. 
 
 Orl. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? 
 
 Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid 
 between the contract of her marriage and the day 310 
 it is solemnized; if the interim be but a se'nnight, 
 Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of 
 seven year. 
 
 Orl. Who ambles Time withal? 
 
 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich 
 man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily 
 because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily 
 because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burthen 
 of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no 
 burthen of heavy tedious penury; these Time am- 320 
 bles withal. 
 
86 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal? 
 
 Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for, though he 
 go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too 
 soon there. 
 
 Orl. Who stays it still withal? 
 
 Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they 
 sleep between term and term, and then they per- 
 ceive not how Time moves. 
 
 Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth? 330 
 
 Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in 
 the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. 
 
 Orl. Are you native of this place? 
 
 Ros. As the cony that you see dwell where she is 
 kindled. 
 
 Orl. Your accent is something finer than you 
 could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
 
 Ros. I have been told so of many: but, indeed, an 
 old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who 
 was in his youth an inland man: one that knew 340 
 courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have 
 heard him read many lectures against it, and I 
 thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with 
 so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed 
 their whole sex withal. 
 
 Orl. Can you remember any of the principal 
 evils that he laid to the charge of women? 
 
 Ros. There were none principal; they were all 
 like one another as half -pence are, every one fault 
 seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to 350 
 match it. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 87 
 
 Orl. I prithee, recount some of them. 
 
 Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but on 
 those that are sick. There is a man haunts the 
 forest, that abuses our young plants with carving 
 Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw- 
 thorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying 
 the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy- 
 monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he 
 seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. 360 
 
 Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked; I pray you, 
 tell me your remedy. 
 
 Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon 
 you: he taught me how to know a man in love; in 
 which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. 
 
 Orl. What were his marks? 
 
 Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue 
 eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestion- 
 able spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, 
 which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for 370 
 simply your having in beard is a younger brother's 
 revenue. Then your hose should be ungartered, 
 your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 
 your shoe untied, and every thing about you demon- 
 strating a careless desolation. But you are no such 
 man; you are rather point-device in your accoutre- 
 ments, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of 
 any other. 
 
 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee be- 
 lieve I love. 380 
 
 Ros. Me believe it! you may as soon make her 
 
88 AS YOU LIKE IT [Aw III 
 
 that you love believe it, which, I warrant, she is 
 apter to do than to confess she does : that is one of the 
 points in the which women still give the lie to their 
 consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that 
 hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so 
 admired? 
 
 Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of 
 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 
 
 Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes 390 
 speak? 
 
 Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 
 much. 
 
 Ros. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, 
 deserves as well a dark house and a whip as mad- 
 men do; and the reason why they are not so punished 
 and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the 
 whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by 
 counsel. 
 
 Orl. Did you ever cure any so? 400 
 
 Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to 
 imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him 
 every day to woo me: at which time would I, being 
 but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, change- 
 able, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, 
 shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for 
 every passion something and for no passion truly 
 any thing, as boys and women are for the most part 
 cattle of this colour; would now like him, now 
 loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; 410 
 now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 89 
 
 suitor from his mad humour of love to a living 
 humour of madness; which was to forswear the full 
 stream of the world and to live in a nook merely mo- 
 nastic. And thus I cured him ; and this way will I take 
 upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's 
 heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. 
 
 Orl. I would not be cured, youth. 
 
 Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me 
 Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me. 420 
 
 Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me 
 where it is. 
 
 Ros. Go with me to it and I '11 show it you; and 
 by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you 
 live. Will you go? 
 
 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. — Come, 
 sister, will you go? [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey; Jaques behind 
 
 Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch 
 
 up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I 
 
 the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? 
 
 A ud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what 
 features? 
 
 * Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the 
 most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the 
 Goths. 
 
90 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Jaq. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse 
 than Jove in a thatched house! 
 
 Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- 
 stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the for- 
 ward child, Understanding, it strikes a man more 
 dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, 
 I would the gods had made thee poetical. 
 
 Aud. I do not know what ' poetical' is: is it 
 honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? 
 
 Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the 
 most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and 
 what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers 
 they do feign. 
 
 Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made 
 me poetical? 
 
 Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou 
 art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have 
 some hope thou didst feign. 
 
 Aud. Would you not have me honest? 
 
 Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; 
 for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a 
 sauce to sugar. 
 
 Jaq. [Aside] A material fool! 
 
 Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray 
 the gods make me honest. 
 
 Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a 
 foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean 
 dish. 
 
 Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I 
 am foul. 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 91 
 
 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 
 ness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as 40 
 it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have 
 been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next 
 village, who hath promised to meet me in this place 
 of the forest and to couple us. 
 
 Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. 
 
 Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! 
 
 Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful 
 heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no 
 temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. 
 But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, 50 
 they are necessary. It is said, 'Many a man knows 
 no end of his goods': right! Many a man has good 
 horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the 
 dowry of his wife ; 't is none of his own getting. 
 Horns? — even so: — poor men alone? No, no; 
 the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is 
 the single man therefore bless'd? No: as a wall'd 
 town is more worthier than a village, so is the fore- 
 head of a married man more honourable than the 
 bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence go 
 is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more pre- 
 cious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver. — 
 
 Enter Sir Oliver Martext 
 Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dis- 
 patch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you 
 to your chapel? 
 
 Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? 
 
92 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. 
 
 Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage 
 is not lawful. 
 
 Jaq. [Advancing] Proceed, proceed: I '11 give 
 her. 
 
 Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call 't: 
 how do you, sir? You are very well met: God 'ild 
 you for your last company : I am very glad to see you : 
 — even a toy in hand here, sir; — nay, pray be 
 covered. 
 
 Jaq. Will you be married, motley? 
 
 Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his 
 curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his de- 
 sires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nib- 
 bling. 
 
 Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, 
 be married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to 
 church, and have a good priest that can tell you 
 what marriage is: this fellow will but join you to- 
 gether as they join wainscot; then one of you will 
 prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, 
 warp. 
 
 Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were 
 better to be married of him than of another; for he 
 is not like to marry me well; and not being well mar- 
 ried, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave 
 my wife. 
 
 Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
 
 Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: 
 Farewell, good Master Oliver : not, — 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 93 
 
 sweet Oliver, 
 
 brave Oliver, 
 Leave me not behind thee: 
 but, — ioo 
 
 Wind away, 
 
 Be gone, I say, 
 I will not to wedding with thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey 
 
 Sir Oli. 'T is no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave 
 
 of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia 
 
 Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep. 
 
 Celia. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to 
 consider that tears do not become a man. 
 
 Ros. But have I not cause to weep? 
 
 Celia. As good cause as one would desire; there- 
 fore weep. 
 
 Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. 
 
 Celia. Something browner than Judas's: marry, 
 his kisses are Judas's own children. 
 
 Ros. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. 10 
 
 Celia. An excellent colour : your chestnut was ever 
 the only colour. 
 
 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the 
 touch of holy bread. 
 
94 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Celia. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana; 
 a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more reli- 
 giously; the very ice of c asfcity is in them. 
 
 Ros. But why did he swear he would come this 
 morning, and comes not? 
 
 Celia. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 
 
 Ros. Do you think so? 
 
 Celia. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a 
 horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think 
 him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten 
 nut. 
 
 Ros. Not true in love? 
 
 Celia. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. 
 
 Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was. 
 
 Celia. 'Was' is not 4s': besides, the oath of a 
 lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they 
 are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He at- 
 tends here in the forest on the duke your father. 
 
 Ros. I met the duke yesterday and had much 
 question with him: he asked me of what parentage 
 I was; I told him of as good as he; so he laughed and 
 let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there 
 is such a man as Orlando? 
 
 Celia. O, that 's a brave man! he writes brave 
 verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and 
 breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the 
 heart of his lover; as a pujsn y tilter, that spurs his 
 horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble 
 goose: but all 's brave that youth mounts and folly 
 guides. — Who comes here? 
 
Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 95 
 
 Enter Corin 
 
 Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired 
 After the shepherd that complain'd of love, 
 Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 
 Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
 That was his mistress. 
 
 Celia. Well, and what of him? 
 
 Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd 50 
 
 Between the pale complexion of true love 
 And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
 Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, 
 If you will mark it. 
 
 Ros. O, come, let us remove; 
 
 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. — 
 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say 
 I '11 prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene V 
 Another part of the forest 
 Enter Silvius and Phebe 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe; 
 Say that you love me not, but say not so 
 In bitterness. The common executioner, 
 Whose heart the accustom' d sight of death makes 
 
 hard, 
 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck 
 But first begs pardon: will you sterner be 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? 
 
96 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, behind 
 
 Phe. I would not be thy executioner; 
 I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
 Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye : 
 'T is pretty, sure, and very probable, 
 That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, 
 Who shut their coward gates on atomies, 
 Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! 
 Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; 
 And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill 
 
 thee; 
 Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; 
 Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, 
 Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers! 
 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 
 Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
 Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, 
 The cicatrice and capable impressure 
 Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, 
 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; 
 Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
 That can do hurt. 
 
 Sil. O dear Phebe, 
 
 If ever, — as that ever may be near, — 
 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 
 Then shall you know the wounds invisible 
 That love's keen arrows make. 
 
 Phe. But till that time 
 
 Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, 
 
Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 97 
 
 Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; 
 As till that time I shall not pity thee. 
 
 Ros. [Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who 
 
 might be your mother 
 That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
 Over the wretched? What though you have no 
 
 beauty, — 
 As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 Than without candle may go dark to bed, — 
 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? 40 
 
 Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? 
 I see no more in you than in the ordinary 
 Of nature's sale-work. 'Od 's my little life. 
 I think she means to tangle my eyes too! 
 No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it: 
 'T is not your inky brows, your black silk hair, 
 Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, 
 That can entame my spirits to your worship. — 
 You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
 Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? 50 
 
 You are a thousand times a properer man 
 Than she a woman: 't is such fools as you 
 That makes the world full of ill-favoured children: 
 'T is not her glass, but you, that natters her; 
 And out of you she sees herself more proper 
 Than any of her lineaments can show her. — 
 But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, 
 And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: 
 For I must tell you friendly in your ear, 
 Sell when you can : you are not for all markets : 60 
 
98 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer: 
 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. — 
 So take her to thee, shepherd; fare you well. 
 
 Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year to- 
 gether: I had rather hear you chide than this man 
 woo. 
 
 Ros. He 's fallen in love with your foulness, and 
 she '11 fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast 
 as she answers thee with frowning looks I '11 sauce her 
 with bitter words. — Why look you so upon me? 
 
 Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 
 
 Ros. I pray you do not fall in love with me, 
 For I am falser than vows made in wine: 
 Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 
 'T is at the tuft of olives here hard by. — 
 Will you go, sister? — Shepherd, ply her hard. — 
 Come, sister. — Shepherdess, look on him better, 
 And be not proud : though all the world could see, 
 None could be so abused in sight as he. — 
 Come, to our flock. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin 
 
 Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of 
 j~ might, — """N 
 
 4 /Wh o ever loved that loved not a t first sifrht f ?jL/ 
 JfSiL Sweet Phebe, — T^ 
 
 Phe. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius? 
 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
 
 Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 
 
 Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: 
 If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
 
Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 99 
 
 By giving love your sorrow and my grief 
 Were both extermined. 
 
 Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? 90 
 
 Sil. I would have you. 
 
 Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 
 
 Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, 
 And yet it is not that I bear thee love; 
 But, since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
 Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
 I will endure, and I '11 employ thee too : 
 But do not look for further recompense 
 Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. 
 
 Sil. So holy and so perfect is my love 
 And I in such a poverty of grace 100 
 
 That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
 To glean the broken ears after the man 
 That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then 
 A scattered smile, and that I '11 live upon. 
 
 Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me 
 erewhile? 
 
 Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; 
 And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds' 
 That the old carlot once was master of. 
 
 Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 
 'T is but a peevish boy; yet he talks well; 110 
 
 But what care I for words? yet words do well 
 When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
 It is a pretty youth — not very pretty; 
 But, sure, he 's proud, and yet his pride becomes him: 
 He '11 make a proper man : the best thing in him 
 
100 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act III 
 
 Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue 
 Did make offence his eye did heal it up. 
 He is not very tall; yet for his years he 's tall: 
 His leg is but so so; and yet 't is well: 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip, 
 A little riper and more lusty red 
 Than that mix'd in his cheek; 't was just the dif- 
 ference 
 Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
 There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him 
 In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
 To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
 I love him not nor hate him not; and yet 
 I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
 For what had he to do to chide at me? 
 He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black; 
 And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: 
 I marvel why I answer'd not again: 
 But that 's all one; omittance is no quittance. 
 I 'il write to him a very taunting letter, 
 And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius? 
 
 Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
 
 Phe. I '11 write it straight; 
 
 The matter 's in my head and in my heart: 
 I will be bitter with him and passing short. 
 Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt 
 
ACT IV 
 
 Scene I 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques 
 
 Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better 
 acquainted with thee. 
 
 Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 
 
 Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. 
 
 Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are 
 abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every 
 modern censure worse than drunkards. 
 
 Jaq. Why, 't is good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 Ros. Why then 't is good to be a post. 
 
 Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 10 
 which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is 
 fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor 
 the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, 
 which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the 
 lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of 
 mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted 
 from many objects, and indeed the sundry contempla- 
 tion of my travels, in which my often rumination 
 wraps me in a most humorous sadness. 
 
 Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great 20 
 reason to be sad: I fear you have sold your own 
 101 ' 
 
102 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 lands to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and 
 to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. 
 
 Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
 
 Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had 
 rather have a fool to make me merry than experience 
 to make me sad; and to travel for it too! 
 
 Enter Orlando 
 
 Orl. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! 
 
 Jaq. Nay, then God be wi' you, an you talk in 
 blank verse. [Exit 
 
 Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp 
 and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your 
 own country; be out of love with your nativity and 
 almost chide God for making you that countenance 
 you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a 
 gondola. — Why, how now, Orlando! where have 
 you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve 
 me such another trick, never come in my sight more. 
 
 Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of 
 my promise. 
 
 Ros. Break an hour's promise in love! He that 
 will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and 
 break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute 
 in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that 
 Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I '11 
 warrant him heart-whole. 
 
 Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in 
 my sight; I had as lief be wooed of a snail. 
 
Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 103 
 
 Orl. Of a snail? 50 
 
 Ros. Ay, of a snail; for, though he comes slowly, 
 he carries his house on his head, — a better jointure, 
 I think, than you make a woman: besides, he brings 
 his destiny with him. 
 
 Orl. What 's that? 
 
 Ros. Why, horns ; which such as you are fain to be 
 beholding to your wives for: but he comes arm'd in 
 his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. 
 
 Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is 
 virtuous. (KX 
 
 Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
 
 Celia. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a 
 Rosalind of a better leer than you. 
 
 Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a 
 holiday humour and like enough to consent. What 
 would you say to me now, an I were your very very 
 Rosalind? 
 
 Orljj I would kiss before I spoke. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and 
 when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you 70 
 might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, 
 when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers 
 lacking — God warn us ! — matter, the cleanliest 
 shift is to kiss. 
 
 Orl. How if the kiss be denied? 
 
 Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
 begins new matter. 
 
 Orl. Who could be out, being before his belov'd 
 mistress? 
 
104 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mis- so 
 tress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my 
 wit. 
 
 Orl. What, of my suit? 
 
 Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your 
 suit. Am not I your Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I l/p 
 would be talking of her. 
 
 Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. 
 
 Orl. Then in mine own person, I die. 
 
 Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world 9# 
 is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time 
 there was not any man died in his own person; 
 videlicet, in a love-eause./ Troilus had his brains 
 dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he 
 could to die before; and he is one of the patterns of 
 love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair 
 year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been 
 for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went 
 but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being 
 taken with the cramp, was drowned: and the foolish im 
 chroniclers of that age found it was — Hero of 
 Sestos. But these are all lies; men have died from 
 time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not 
 for love. 
 
 Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this 
 mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. 
 
 Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, 
 now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on dis- 
 position, and ask me what you will, I will grant it. 
 
Scene m AS YOU LIKE IT 105 
 
 Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. no 
 
 Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays 
 and all. 
 
 Orl. And wilt thou have me? 
 
 Ros. Ay, and twenty such. 
 
 Orl. What say est thou? 
 
 Ros. Are you not good? 
 
 Orl. I hope so. 
 
 Ros. Why then, can one desire too much : of a 
 good thing? — Come, sister, you shall be the priest 
 and marry us. — Give me your hand, Orlandq. — 120 
 What do you say, sister? \ 
 
 ®rl. Pray thee, marry us. 
 
 Celia. I cannot say the words. 
 
 Ros. You must begin, ' Will you, Orlando — ' 
 
 Celia. Go to. — Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
 this Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I will. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but when? 
 
 Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us 
 
 Ros. Then you must say, 'I take thee 
 for wife/ 
 
 Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 
 
 Ros. I might ask you for your comn^ssion; but, 
 I do take thee, Orlando, for my husbaad. Therj 
 a girl goes before the priest ; and certainly a^wroman's 
 thought runs before her actions. 
 
 Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. 
 
 Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her 
 after you have possessed her. 
 
 
 
106 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 Orl. For ever and a day. 
 
 Ros. Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, 
 Orlando; men are April when they woo, December 
 when they wed; maids are May when they are maids, 
 but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be 
 more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over 
 his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, 
 more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my 
 desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like 
 Diana in the fountain; and I will do that when you 
 are disposed to be merry: I will laugh like a hyen, 
 and that when thou art inclined to sleep. 
 
 Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? 
 
 Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. 
 
 Orl. O, but she is wise. 
 
 Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
 this; the wiser, the waywarder. Make the doors 
 upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; 
 shut that, and 't will out at the key-hole; stop that, 
 't will fly with the smoke out at the chimney. 
 
 Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he 
 might say, ' Wit, whither wilt? ' 
 
 Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it till 
 you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's 
 bed. 
 
 Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? 
 
 Ros. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. 
 You shall never take her without her answer, unless 
 you take her without her tongue. O, that woman 
 that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, 
 
ST « 
 - Z 
 
Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 107 
 
 let her never nurse her child herself, for she will 170 
 breed it like a fool ! 
 
 Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
 thee. 
 
 Ros. Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two 
 hours. 
 
 Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two 
 o'clock I will be with thee again. 
 
 Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew 
 what you would prove: my friends told me as much, 
 and I thought no less. That nattering tongue of iso 
 yours won me: 't is but one cast away, and so, come, 
 death! — Two o'clock is your hour? 
 
 Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 
 God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not 
 dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or 
 come one minute behind your hour, I will think you 
 the most pathetical break-promise, and the most 
 hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call 
 Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band 190 
 of the unfaithful: therefore beware my' censure and 
 keep your promise. 
 
 Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed 
 my Rosalind: so, adieu. 
 
 Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines 
 all such offenders, and let Time try: adieu. 
 
 [Exit Orlando 
 
 Celia. You have simply misused our sex in your 
 love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose 
 
108 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 plucked over your head, and show the world what 
 the bird hath done to her own nest. 
 
 Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
 thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love ! 
 But it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an un- 
 known bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 
 
 Celia. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you 
 pour affection in, it runs out. 
 
 Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that 
 was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born 
 of madness, that blind, rascally boy that abuses 
 every one's eyes because his own are out, let him be 
 judge how deep I am in love. I '11 tell thee, Aliena, 
 I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I '11 go find 
 a shadow and sigh till he come. 
 
 Celia. And I '11 sleep. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II 
 The forest 
 Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters 
 Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 
 A Lord. Sir, it was I. 
 
 Jaq. Let 's present him to the duke, like a Roman 
 conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns 
 upon his head, for a branch of victory. — Have you 
 no song, forester, for this purpose? 
 For. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jaq. Sing it : 't is no matter how it be in tune, so 
 it make noise enough. 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 109 
 
 SONG 
 
 For. What shall he have that kilPd the deer? 10 
 
 His leather skin and horns to wear. 
 
 Then sing him home; 
 
 [The rest shall bear this burthen 
 Take thou no scorn to wear the horn: 
 It was a crest ere thou wast born; 
 
 Thy father's father wore it, 
 
 And thy father bore it: 
 The horn, the horn, the lusty horn 
 Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia 
 
 Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two 
 o'clock? and here much Orlando! 
 
 Celia. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled 
 brain he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone 
 forth to sleep. Look, who comes here. 
 
 Enter Silvius 
 Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth : 
 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: 
 
 [Giving a letter 
 I know not the contents; but, as I guess 
 By the stern brow and waspish action 
 Which she did use as she was writing of it, 10 
 
 It bears an angry tenour: pardon me; 
 
110 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter 
 And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: 
 She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; 
 She calls me proud, and that she could not love me 
 Were man as rare as phcenix. 'Ods my will! 
 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: 
 Why writes she so to me? — Well, shepherd, well, 
 This is a letter of your own device. 
 
 Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents: 
 Phebe did write it. 
 
 Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, 
 
 And turn'd into the extremity of love. 
 I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, 
 A freestone-coloured hand: I verily did think 
 That her old gloves were on, but 't was her hands: 
 She has a huswife's hand; but that 's no matter. 
 I say she never did invent this letter; 
 This is a man's invention and his hand. 
 
 Sil. Sure, it is hers. 
 
 Ros. Why, 't is a boisterous and a cruel style, 
 A style for challengers; why, she defies me, 
 Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain 
 Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
 Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect 
 Than in their countenance. Will you hear the 
 letter? 
 
 Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet, 
 Yet he£fd too much of Phebe's cruelty. 
 
 Ros. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 111 
 
 [Reads] Art thou God to shepherd turn'd, 40 
 
 That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? 
 
 Can a woman rail thus? 
 Sil. Call you this railing? 
 Ros. [Reads] 
 
 Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
 Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? 
 
 Did you ever hear such railing? 
 
 Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 
 That could do no vengeance to me. 
 
 Meaning me a beast. 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne 50 
 
 Have power to raise such love in mine, 
 
 Alack, in me what strange effect 
 
 Would they work in mild aspect! 
 
 Whiles you chid me, I did love; 
 
 How then might your prayers move! 
 
 He that brings this love to thee 
 
 Little knows this love in me: 
 
 And by him seal up thy mind; 
 
 Whether that thy youth and kind 
 
 Will the faithful offer take 60 
 
 Of me and all that I can make; 
 
 Or else by him my love deny, 
 
 And then I '11 study how to die. 
 
 Sil. Call you this chiding? 
 
 Celia. Alas, poor shepherd! 
 
 Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. 
 — Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make 
 thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee! 
 not to be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I 
 
112 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this 
 to her: That, if she love me, I charge her to love 
 thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou 
 entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not 
 a word; for here comes more company. 
 
 [Exit Silvius 
 
 Enter Oliver 
 
 Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you 
 know, 
 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 
 A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? 
 
 Celia. West of this place, down in the neighbour 
 bottom : 
 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 
 Left on your right hand brings you to the place. 
 But at this hour the house doth keep itself; 
 There 's none within. 
 
 Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, 
 Then should I know you by description; 
 Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair, 
 Of female favour, and bestows himself 
 Like a ripe sister; the woman low, 
 And browner than her brother.' Are not you 
 The owner of the house I did enquire for? 
 
 Celia. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. 
 
 Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both, 
 And to that youth he calls his Rosalind 
 He sends this bloody napkin. — Are you he? 
 
 Ros. I am : what must we understand by this? 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 113 
 
 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. 
 
 Celia. I pray you tell it. 
 
 Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from 
 you, 
 He left a promise to return again 
 
 Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, 100 
 
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
 Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside, 
 And mark what object did present itself: 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 A wretched, ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 
 Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck 
 A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, 
 Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd 
 The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, no 
 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 Into a bush : under which bush's shade 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, 
 When that the sleeping man should stir; for 't is 
 The royal disposition of that beast 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 
 This seen, Orlando did approach the man 
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 120 
 
 Celia. O, I have heard him speak of that same 
 brother ; 
 
114 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 And he did render him the most unnatural 
 That lived 'mongst men. 
 
 Oli. And well he might so do, 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 Ros. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, 
 Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? 
 
 Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed so; 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
 Made him give battle to the lioness, 13J 
 
 Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling, 
 From miserable slumber I awaked. 
 
 Celia. Are you his brother? 
 
 Ros. Was it you he rescued? 
 
 Celia. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
 him? 
 
 Oli. 'T was I; but 't is not I: I do not shame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 
 
 Ros. But, for the bloody napkin? — 
 
 Oli. By and by. 
 
 When from the first to last betwixt us two 
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, 14a 
 
 As, how I came into that desert place : — 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, 
 Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, 
 Committing me unto my brother's love; 
 Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
 There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 
 The lioness had torn some flesh away, 
 
Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 115 
 
 Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, 
 
 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
 
 Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound; 150 
 
 And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am, 
 
 To tell this story that you might excuse 
 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin, 
 
 Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth 
 
 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 
 
 [Rosalind swoons 
 
 Celia. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Gany- 
 mede! 
 
 Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. 
 
 Celia. There is more in it. — Cousin Ganymede! 
 
 Oli. Look, he recovers. igo 
 
 Ros. I would I were at home. 
 
 Celia. We '11 lead you thither. — 
 
 I pray you, will you take him by the arm? 
 
 Oli. Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you 
 lack a man's heart. 
 
 Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body 
 would think this was well counterfeited! I pray 
 you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. — 
 Heigh-ho ! 
 
 Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great 
 testimony in your complexion that it was a passion 170 
 of earnest. 
 
 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
 
 Oli. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit 
 to be a man. 
 
116 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act IV 
 
 Ros. So I do; but V faith, I should have been a 
 woman by right. 
 
 Celia. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, 
 draw homewards. — Good sir, go with us. 
 
 Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back 
 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. isc 
 
 Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray you, 
 commend my counterfeiting to him. — Will you 
 go? [Exeunt 
 
ACT V 
 
 Scene I 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey 
 
 Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, 
 gentle Audrey. 
 
 And. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all 
 the old gentleman's saying. 
 
 Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most 
 vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in 
 the forest lays claim to you. 
 
 Aud. Ay, I know who 't is; he hath no interest in 
 me in the world: here comes the man you mean. 
 
 Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: 10 
 by my troth, we that have good wits have much to 
 answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. 
 
 Enter William 
 Will. Good ev'n, Audrey. 
 Aud. God ye good ev'n, William. 
 Will. And good ev'n to you, sir. 
 Touch. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy 
 head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. 
 How old are you, friend? 
 Will. Five and twenty, sir. 
 117 
 
118 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William? 
 
 Will. William, sir. 
 
 Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest 
 here? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
 
 Touch. 'Thank God' — a good answer. Art rich? 
 
 Will. Faith, sir, so so. 
 
 Touch. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent 
 good; — and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou 
 wise? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 
 
 Touch. Why, thou say est well. I do now remem- 
 ber a saying, 'The fool doth think he is wise, but 
 the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The 
 heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat 
 a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 
 mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to 
 eat and lips to open. You do love this maid? 
 
 Will. I do, sir. 
 
 Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? 
 
 Will. No, sir. 
 
 Touch. Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; 
 for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured 
 out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth 
 empty the other; for all your writers do consent that 
 ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I am he. 
 
 Will. Which he, sir? 
 
 Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 
 Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the 
 vulgar leave, — the society, — which in the boorish 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 119 
 
 is company, — of this female, — which in the com- 50 
 mon is woman; which together is, abandon the so- 
 ciety of this female, or, clown, thou perishest; or, to 
 thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill 
 thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, 
 thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with 
 thee or in bastinado or in steel; I will bandy with 
 thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I 
 will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore 
 tremble, and depart. 
 
 Aud. Do, good William. 60 
 
 Will. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit 
 
 Enter Corin 
 
 Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you; come, 
 away, away! 
 
 Touch. Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I 
 attend. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Orlando and Oliver 
 
 Orl. Is 't possible that on so little acquaintance 
 
 you should like her? that, but seeing, you should 
 
 love her? and loving woo? and wooing, she should 
 
 grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? 
 
 Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
 the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sud- 
 den wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with 
 
120 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; 
 consent with both that we may enjoy each other: it 
 shall be to your good; for my father's house and all 
 the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's, will I estate 
 upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. 
 
 Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding 
 be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke and 
 all 's contented followers. Go you and prepare 
 Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. 
 
 Enter Rosalind 
 
 Ros. God save you, brother. 
 
 Oli. And you, fair sister. [Exit 
 
 Ros. O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see 
 thee wear thy heart in a scarf! 
 
 Orl. It is my arm. 
 
 Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with 
 the claws of a lion. 
 
 Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
 
 Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
 feited to swoon when he showed me your hand- 
 kercher? 
 
 Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 
 
 Ros. O, I know where you are : nay, 't is true : 
 there was never any thing so sudden but the fight 
 of two rams, and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I 
 came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother and 
 my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner 
 looked but they loved, nO sooner loved but they 
 sighed, no sooner sighed buo they asked one another 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 121 
 
 the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they 
 sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they 
 made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will 
 climb incontinent: they are in the very wrath of 
 love, and they will together; clubs cannot part 40 
 them. 
 
 Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will 
 bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a 
 thing it is to look into happiness through another 
 man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow 
 be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I ■ 
 shall think my brother happy in having what he 
 wishes for. 
 
 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your 
 turn for Rosalind? 50 
 
 Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 
 
 Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle 
 talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some 
 purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good 
 conceit: I speak not this, that you should bear a 
 good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I 
 know you are; neither do I labour for a greater es- 
 teem than may in some little measure draw a belief 
 from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. 
 Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange go 
 things: I have, since I was three year old, con- 
 versed with a magician, most profound in his art and 
 yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near 
 the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your 
 brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I know 
 
122 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is 
 not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient 
 to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow, hu- 
 man as she is, and without any danger. 
 
 Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings? 
 
 Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, 
 though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you 
 in your best array; bid your friends; for, if you will 
 be married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind if 
 you will. 
 
 Enter Silvius and Phebe 
 Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. 
 
 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- 
 ness 
 To shew the letter that I writ to you. 
 
 Ros. I care not if I have : it is my study 
 To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. 
 You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; 
 Look upon him, love him; he worships you. 
 
 Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 't is to 
 love. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears; 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service; 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 123 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, 
 All made of passion, and all made of wishes, 
 All adoration, duty, and observance, 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
 All purity, all trial, all observance; 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 100 
 
 Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 you? 
 
 Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 you? 
 
 Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? 
 
 Ros. Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me 
 to love you? ' 
 
 Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. 
 
 Ros. Pray you, no more of this; 't is like the 
 howling of Irish wolves against the moon. — [To no 
 Silvius] I will help you if I can: — [To Phebe] I 
 would love you if I could. — To-morrow meet me 
 all together. — [To Phebe] I will marry you, if 
 ever I marry woman, and I '11 be married to-mor- 
 row: — [To Orlando] I will satisfy you if ever I 
 satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow: 
 — [To Silvius] I will content you if what pleases 
 you contents you, and you shall be married to- 
 morrow. — [To Orlando] As you love Rosalind, 
 
124 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 meet: — [To Silvius] as you love Phebe, meet: — 
 and as I love no woman, I '11 meet. — So fare you 
 well: I have left you commands. 
 
 Sil. I '11 not fail if I live. 
 
 Phe. Nor I. 
 
 Orl. Nor I. < [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III 
 The forest 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey 
 Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; 
 to-morrow will we be 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 
 the world. Here come two of the banished duke's 
 pages. 
 
 Enter two Pages 
 
 1 Page. Well met, honest gentlemen. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, 
 and a song. 
 
 2 Page. We are for you: sit i' the middle. 
 
 1 Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, without 
 hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which 
 are the only prologues to a bad voice? 
 
 2 Page. V faith, i' faith; and both in a tune, like 
 two gipsies on a horse. ■ 
 
 SONG 
 
 It was a lover and his lass, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 That o'er the green corn-field did pass 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 125 
 
 In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: 20 
 
 Sweet lovers love the spring. 
 
 Between the acres of the rye, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 
 These pretty country folks would lie, 
 In spring time, etc. 
 
 This carol they began that hour, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 
 How that a life was but a flower 
 In spring time, etc. 
 
 And therefore take the present time, 30 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; 
 
 For love is crowned with the prime 
 In spring time, etc. 
 
 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
 was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
 very unt unable. 
 
 1 Page. You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we 
 lost not our time. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost 
 to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and 40 
 God mend your voices! — Come, Audrey. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 The forest 
 
 Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, 
 Oliver, and Celia 
 
 Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy 
 Can do all this that he hath promised? 
 
126 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do 
 not; 
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe 
 Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is 
 urged. — 
 You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, 
 You will bestow her on Orlando here? 
 
 Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give 
 
 with her. 
 Ros. And you say you will have her, when I bring 
 
 her? 
 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. 
 Ros. You say you '11 marry me, if I be willing? 
 Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
 Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me, 
 You '11 give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? 
 Phe. So is the bargain. 
 
 Ros. You say that you '11 have Phebe, if she will? 
 Sil. Though to have her and death were both one 
 
 thing. 
 Ros. I have promised to make all this matter even. 
 Keep you your word, O duke, to give your 
 
 daughter; — 
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: — 
 Keep your word, Phebe, that you '11 marry me, 
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd: — 
 Keep your word, Silvius, that you '11 marry her, 
 If she refuse me : — and from hence I go, 
 
Scene IV] ' AS YOU LIKE IT 127 
 
 To make these doubts all even. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia 
 
 Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy 
 Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. 
 
 Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw 
 him 
 Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
 But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 30 
 
 And hath been tutor' d in the rudiments 
 Of many desperate studies by his uncle, 
 Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
 Obscured in the circle of this forest. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey 
 
 Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and 
 these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a 
 pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are 
 called fools. 
 
 Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all! 
 
 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome : this is the 40 
 motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met 
 in the forest: he hath been a courtier he swears. 
 
 Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to 
 my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flat- 
 tered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, 
 smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; 
 I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. 
 
 Jaq. And how was that ta'en up? 
 
 Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was 
 upon the seventh cause. 50 
 
128 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 Jaq. How seventh cause? — Good my lord, like 
 this fellow. 
 
 Duke S. I like him very well. 
 
 Touch. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. 
 I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country 
 copulatives, to swear and to forswear; according as 
 marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, 
 an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor 
 humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else 
 will. Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor 
 house, as your pearl in your foul oyster. 
 
 Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 
 tentious. 
 
 Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such 
 dulcet diseases. 
 
 Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you 
 find the quarrel on the seventh cause? 
 
 Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed: — bear 
 your body more seeming, Audrey : — as thus, sir. I 
 did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard: he 
 sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he 
 was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort 
 Courteous. If I send him word again i was not well 
 cut, he would send me word he cut it to please himself: 
 this is called the Quip Modest. If again it was not 
 well cut, he disabled my judgement: this is called the 
 Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut, he 
 would answer, I spake not true : this is called the Re- 
 proof Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would 
 say I lie: this is called the Ccuntercheck Quarrel- 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 129 
 
 some: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie 
 Direct. 
 
 Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not 
 well cut? 
 
 Touch. I durst , go no further than the Lie Cir- 
 cumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; 
 and so we measured swords and parted. 
 
 Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees 
 of the lie? 
 
 Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as 
 you have books for good manners: I will name you 
 the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the 
 second, the Quip Modest ; the third, the Reply Churl- 
 ish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the 
 Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with 
 Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these 
 you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may 
 avoid that, too, with an If. I knew when seven jus- 
 tices could not take up a quarrel ; but when the parties 
 were met themselves, one of them thought but of an 
 If, asilf you said so, then I said so'; and they shook 
 hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace- 
 maker; much virtue in If. 
 
 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He 's as 
 good at any thing, and yet a fool. 
 
 Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, 
 and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. 
 
130 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia 
 Still Music 
 
 Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
 When earthly things made even 
 
 Atone together. no 
 
 Good duke, receive thy daughter: 
 Hymen from heaven brought her, 
 
 Yea, brought her hither 
 That thou mightst join her hand with his 
 Whose heart within her bosom is. 
 
 Ros. [To Duke] To you I give myself, for I am 
 yours. — 
 [To Orlando] To you I give myself, for 1 am yours. 
 Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 
 
 daughter. 
 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa- 
 lind. 
 Phe. If sight and shape be true, 120 
 
 Why then, — my love adieu ! 
 
 Ros. [To Duke] I '11 have no father, if you be not 
 he: — 
 [To Orlando] I '11 have no husband, if you be not 
 
 he: — 
 [To Phebe] Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not 
 she. 
 Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion: 
 'T is I must make conclusion 
 
 Of these most strange events: 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 131 
 
 Here 's eight that must take hands 
 To join in Hymen's bands, 
 
 If truth holds true contents. — 130 
 
 [To Orlando and Rosalind] You and you no 
 
 cross shall part : — 
 [To Oliver and Celia] You and you are heart in 
 
 heart : — 
 [To Phebe] You to his love must accord, 
 
 Or have a woman to your lord : — 
 [To Touchstone and Audrey] You and you are 
 sure together 
 As the winter to foul weather. 
 Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, 
 Feed yourselves with questioning; 
 That reason wonder may diminish, 
 How thus we met, and these things finish, ho 
 
 song 
 
 Wedding is great Juno's crown: 
 blessed bond of board and bed! 
 
 'T is Hymen peoples every town ; 
 High wedlock then be honoured: 
 
 Honour, high honour, and renown 
 
 To Hymen, god of every town! 
 
 Duke S. my dear niece, welcome thou art to 
 me, 
 Even daughter welcome, in no less degree. 
 Phe. [To Silvius] I will not eat my word, now 
 thou art mine; 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 150 
 
132 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 Enter Jaques de Boys 
 
 Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or 
 two. 
 I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, 
 That bring these tidings to this fair assembly: 
 Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 
 Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 
 Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, 
 In his own conduct, purposely to take 
 His brother here and put him to the sword: 
 And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; 
 Where meeting with an old religious man, 
 After some question with him, was converted 
 Both from his enterprise and from the world; 
 His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, 
 And all their lands restored to them again 
 That were with him exiled. This to be true, 
 I do engage my life. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, young man; 
 
 Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: 
 To one his lands withheld, and to the other 
 A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
 First, in this forest let us do those ends 
 That here were well begun and well begot; 
 And after, every of this happy number 
 That have endured shrewd days and nights with us 
 Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
 According to the measure of their states. 
 Meantime, forget this new-fallen dignity, 
 
Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 133 
 
 And fall into our rustic revelry. — 
 
 Play, music ! — And you, brides and bridegrooms all, 
 
 With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 
 
 Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, 
 The duke hath put on a religious life, 
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court? 
 Jaq. de B. He hath. 
 
 Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites 
 There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. — 
 [To Duke S.] You to your former honour I bequeath; 
 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it : — 
 [To Orlando] You to a love that your true faith 
 
 doth merit : — 
 [To Oliver] You to your land, and love, and great 
 
 allies : — 
 [To Silvius] You to a long and well-deserved bed: — 
 [To Touchstone] And you to wrangling; for thy 
 
 loving voyage 
 Is but for two months victualled. — So, to your 
 
 pleasures : 
 I am for other than for dancing measures. 
 Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 
 
 Jaq. To see no pastime I; what you would have 
 I '11 stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit 
 
 Duke S. Proceed, proceed; we will begin these 
 rites, 
 As we do trust they '11 end, in true delights. 
 
 [A dance 
 
134 AS YOU LIKE IT [Act V 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epi- 
 logue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the 
 lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs 
 no bush, 't is true that a good play needs no epilogue: 
 yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good 
 plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. 
 What a case am I in then, that I am neither a good 
 epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf 
 of a good play! I am not furnish'd like a beggar, 
 therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to 
 conjure you; and I '11 begin with the women. I 
 charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, 
 to like as much of this play as please you : and I charge 
 you, O men, for the love you bear to women, — as I 
 perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them, 
 — that between you and the women the play may 
 please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of 
 you as had beards that pleas'd me, complexions that 
 lik'd me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, 
 as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet 
 breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, 
 bid me farewell. [Exeunt 
 
NOTES 
 
 The following contractions are used in the notes: R. Ed. = Rugby 
 Edition; Ch. Ed. = Chambers's Edition; Co. Ed. = Collins's Edi- 
 tion; Fr. = French; A. S. = Anglo-Saxon; Lat. = Latin; cf. = confer 
 (compare). 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 The play was first printed in the folio of 1623, where it is divided 
 into Acts and Scenes. 
 
 Page 29. 1. Upon this fashion. After this fashion. 
 
 2. Poor a thousand. For this transposition of the indefinite 
 article see Abbott, sect. 422. 
 
 4. On his blessing. As a condition of obtaining his blessing. 
 
 5. He keeps at school. At the university. Hamlet at thirty 
 still goes to school at Wittenberg. (R. Ed.) — Profit. Proficiency. 
 
 12. Manage. The training and breaking in of a horse, from 
 Fr. manege. 
 
 17. Countenance. Favor, regard, patronage. 
 
 18. Hinds. Servants or farm laborers. It is used still in the 
 north of England for a farm bailiff. 
 
 Page 30. 20. Mines my gentility. Undermines the gentleness 
 of my birth and so destroys it. 
 
 28. What make you here? What do you here? As in Hamlet 
 (I, ii, 164): — 
 
 And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? 
 
 32. Marry. An exclamation, from the name of the Virgin 
 Mary, used as an oath. Here it keeps up a poor pun upon mar. 
 
 36. Be naught awhile. A proverbial curse, equivalent to 'a 
 mischief on you.' 
 
 37. Shall I keep your hogs, etc. Referring to the story of the 
 prodigal son. Cf. Luke xv, 11-32. 
 
 38. What prodigal portion have I spent? What portion have I 
 prodigally spent? 
 
 135 
 
136 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Page 31. 50. Your coming before me is nearer to his rever- 
 ence. The fact of your being the eldest born brings you nearer in 
 descent to our father. 
 
 52. What, boy! Oliver attempts to strike him, and Orlando in 
 return seizes him by the throat. 
 
 56. I am no villain. No serf, or bondman; with a play on the 
 other meaning. 
 
 62. For your father's remembrance. For the sake of your 
 father's memory. 
 
 72. Allottery. Portion. 
 
 Page 32. 85. Grow upon. Encroach. 
 
 86. Physic your rankness. Stop this rank growth of j^our in- 
 solence. (R. Ed.) 
 
 103. Good leave. Ready permission. 
 
 Page 33. 109. Or have died to stay behind her. That is, if 
 forced to stay behind her. 
 
 113. The forest of Arden. The scene is taken from Lodge's 
 novel. The ancient forest of Ardennes gave its name to the de- 
 partment in the northeast of France, on the borders of Belgium. 
 
 116. Fleet the time. Make it pass swiftly. An instance of 
 Shakespeare's habit of forming verbs from adjectives. 
 
 117. The golden world. The golden age. 
 
 125. Shall acquit him well. Will have to acquit himself well. 
 Cf. V, i, 12, and Abbott, sect. 315. 
 
 131. Intendment. Intention, purpose. *> 
 
 Page 34. 137. By underhand means. Because of the obsti- 
 nacy which he attributes to him. 
 
 141. Contriver. Plotter. 
 
 143. As lief. As gladly, as willingly. 
 
 145. Grace himself on thee. Get himself honor or reputation 
 in the contest with thee. 
 
 152. Anatomize. Expose him, lay his faults bare. 
 
 156. His payment. His punishment. 
 
 160. Gamester. A young frolicsome fellow. 
 
 163. Full of noble device. Of noble conceptions and aims. 
 
 Page 35. 164. Enchantingly. As if under the influence of a 
 charm or fascination. 
 
 167. Misprised. Treated with contempt, despised. (Fr. 
 mepriser.) 
 
 168. Kindle. Incite. — Thither. To the wrestling match. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 6. Learn. The A. S. laeran meant to teach. (Co. Ed.) 
 11. So. Provided that. 
 
. NOTES: ACT I, SCENE II 137 
 
 14. Tempered. Composed. To temper is to blend together 
 the ingredients of a compound. 
 
 18. Nor none. For the double negative see 1. 27, 'nor no 
 further in sport neither.' 
 
 Page 36. 20. Render thee. Give thee back, return thee. 
 
 28. A pure blush. That has no shame in it. 
 
 29. Come off. Get off, escape, as from a contest. 
 
 39. Honest. Virtuous. — Ill-favouredly. In an ugly manner. 
 45. Flout. Mock, scoff at. 
 Page 37. 49. Natural. An idiot. 
 53. To reason. To discourse, talk. 
 
 56. Wit! whither wander you? 'Wit, whither wilt?' was a 
 proverbial expression. 
 
 Page 38. 84. Taxation. Satire, censure. 
 87. Troth. Faith. 
 
 92. Will put on us. Will pass off upon us. 
 100. Colour. Used for kind, nature. 
 
 104. Destinies decree. The folios have destinies decrees, one 
 out of many instances in which by a printer's error an s has been 
 added to a word. 
 
 105. Laid on with a trowel. Coarsely, clumsily. 
 
 Page 39. 108. Amaze. Confound, confuse. The word amaze- 
 ment was originally applied to denote the confusion of mind pro- 
 duced by any strong emotion, as in Mark xiv, 33: 'And began to be 
 sore amazed, and to be very heavy.' 
 
 122. Proper. Handsome. In this sense the parents of Moses 
 saw that he was a proper child, Hebrews xi, 23. 
 
 131. Dole. Grief, lamentation. (Fr. deuil.) 
 
 Page 40. 141. Broken music. Some instruments, such as 
 viols, violins, and flutes, were formerly made in sets of four, which 
 when played together formed a consort. If one or more of the in- 
 struments of one set were substituted for the corresponding ones 
 of another set, the result was no longer a consort but broken music. 
 The expression occurs in Henry V (V, ii, 244) : ' Come, your answer 
 in broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy English broken.' 
 
 150. Entreated. Prevailed upon by entreaty, persuaded. 
 
 153. Successfully. As if he would win. The adverb is simi- 
 larly used for the adjective in The Tempest (III, i, 32): 'You look 
 wearily.' 
 
 159. Such odds in the man. Such advantage on the side of the 
 wrestler Charles. 
 
 Page 41. 183. Might. Used for may, as in Hamlet (I, i, 75). 
 
 186. Me. Used as a reflexive pronoun. (Abbott, sect. 223.) — 
 Much guilty. Much by itself is not now commonly used with 
 adjectives. 
 
138 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 190. Gracious. Looked upon with favor. 
 
 Page 42. 193. Only in the world, etc. We should say, 'I only 
 fill up a place in the world.' 
 
 205. Working. Operation, endeavor. 
 
 210. You mean to mock me after. Theobald conjectured 'An 
 you;' Mason, 'If you.' But no change is absolutely necessary. 
 
 212. Thy speed. Thy good fortune. (A. S. sped.) 
 
 217. Who should down. For the ellipsis of the verb of motion 
 before an adverb of direction see Hamlet (III, iii, 4) : — 
 
 And he to England shall along with you. 
 
 219. I am not yet well breathed. Am not yet in full breath, 
 have not got my wind. Cf. Fr. mis en haleine. 
 Page 43. 229. Still. Constantly. 
 236. Calling. Appellation, name. 
 
 240. Known this young man his son. That is, to be his son. 
 
 241. Unto. In addition to. 
 
 245. Sticks me at heart. Stabs me to the heart. 
 
 247. Justly. Exactly. Compare the use of righteously I, ii, 14. 
 
 Page 44. 249. Out of suits with fortune. Not wearing the 
 livery of fortune, out of her service. 
 
 250. Could give more. Would willingly give more. 
 
 254. A quintain. The spelling of the folios is quintine. Hasted, 
 in his History of Kent (ii, 224) says, ' On Of ham green there stands 
 a Quintin, a thing now rarely to be met with, being a machine 
 much used in former times by youth, as well to try their own ac- 
 tivity as the swiftness of their horses in running at it. . . . The 
 cross-piece of it is broad at one end, and pierced full of holes; and 
 a bag of sand is hung at the other and swings round, on being 
 moved with any blow. The pastime was for the youth on horse- 
 back to run at it as fast as possible, and hit the broad part in his 
 career with much force. He that by chance hit it not at all was 
 treated with loud peals of derision; and he who did hit it made the 
 best use of his swiftness, least he should have a sound blow on his 
 neck from the bag of sand, which instantly swang round from the 
 other end of the quintin. The great design of this sport was to try 
 the agility both of horse and man, and to break the board, which 
 whoever did, he was accounted chief of the day's sport.' 
 
 259. Have with you. Come along. 
 
 267. Condition. Temper, frame of mind, disposition. 
 
 Page 46. 269. Humorous. Capricious. 
 
 282. Argument, Cause, occasion. 
 
 287. In a better world. In a better age or state of things. 
 
 290. From the smoke into the smother. Out of the frying-pan in- 
 to the fire. Smother is the thick suifling smoke of a smouldering fire. 
 
NOTES: ACT II, SCENE I 139 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Page 46. 11. For my child's father. My husband that is to 
 be. 
 
 12. This working-day world. This common condition of 
 things. 
 
 16. Coat. Used of a woman's garment. 
 
 Page 47. 26. On such a sudden. So suddenly. 
 
 31. Dearly. Excessively. 
 
 34. Doth he not deserve well? That is, to be hated. Rosa- 
 lind takes the words in another sense. 
 
 40. Cousin. Used for niece. 
 
 Page 48. 51. Purgation. Exculpation; proof of innocence of 
 an alleged fault or crime. 
 
 55. The likelihood. The probability of my being a traitor. 
 
 63. To think. As to think. 
 
 68. Remorse. Tender feeling, compassion; not compunction. 
 
 69. That time. At that time, then. 
 
 73. Juno's swans. It may be questioned whether for Juno we 
 ought not to read Venus, to whom, and not to Juno, the swan was 
 sacred. 
 
 Page 49. 95. Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. 
 No one would now think of writing, 'thou and I am,' but it is a 
 construction of frequent occurrence in Shakespeare's time, by 
 which the verb is attracted to the nearest subject. 
 
 Page 50. 100. Change. Change of condition, altered fortunes. 
 
 110. Umber. A brown color or pigment, said to be so called 
 from Umbria, where it was first found. 
 
 114. Suit me. Dress myself. 
 
 115. Curtle-axe. A cutlass. A curtle-ax was not an ax at all, 
 but a short sword. The word is formed from a diminutive of the 
 Latin cultelhis. 
 
 118. Swashing. Blustering, swaggering. 
 
 119. Mannish. Masculine. 
 
 Page 51. 127. Assay'd. Tried, endeavored. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Page 52. 13. Which, like the toad, etc. These toadstones are 
 hemispherical, elliptical, or oval, hollow within, of an apparently 
 petrified bony substance, whity-brown, or variegated with darker 
 shades. The explanation of their origin is that they were the bony 
 
140 >£ YOU LIKE IT 
 
 embossed plates lining the palate or the jaws, and serving instead 
 of teeth to a fossil fish, an arrangement observable in the recent 
 representatives of the same species. 
 
 16. Finds tongues in trees, etc. In Sidney's Arcadia, published 
 when Shakespeare was twenty-six years old, we have the same meta- 
 phor. (R. Ed.) 
 
 Page 53. 22. It irks me. It grieves me, vexes me. 
 
 23. Burghers. Citizens. 
 
 46. The needless stream. It already had enough. 
 
 Page 54. 50. Of after past participles, before the agent, is 
 used where we now employ by. (Cf. Abbott, sect. 170.) 
 
 50. Velvet. The name for the outer covering of the horns of a 
 stag in the early stages of their growth. (Co. Ed.) 
 
 67. To cope him. Encounter him. 
 
 68. Matter. Good stuff, sound sense. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Page 55. 8. Roynish. Literally scurvy; from Fr. rogneux. 
 Hence coarse, rough. 
 
 20. Inquisition. Inquiry. — Quail. Fail or slacken. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Page 56. 3. Memory. Memorial. 
 
 7. So fond to. So foolish as to. For the omission of as 
 cf. I, hi, 63. Fond is contracted from fonned or fonnyd, from jon, 
 a fool. 
 
 10. Some kind of men. Cf. King Lear (II, ii, 93) : 'These kind 
 of knaves I know.' (Abbott, sect. 412.) 
 
 14. When what is comely Envenoms him that bears it. 
 Like the poisoned garment and diadem which Medea sent to 
 Creusa, or the poisoned tunic of Hercules. 
 
 17. Within this roof. Roof is by a common figure of speech 
 used for house. 
 
 Page 57. 26. Practices. Designs, plots. 
 
 27. Place. Dwelling-place, residence. 
 
 37. A diverted blood. Blood diverted from the course of 
 nature, as Johnson explains it. 
 
 39. The thrifty hire I saved. The wages I saved by thrift. For 
 examples of similar uses of the adjective cf . I, i, 34; II, vii, 131 : — 
 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, 
 
 that is, evils which cause weakness. Grammarians call this use of 
 the adjective proleptic, or anticipatory, attributing to the cause 
 what belongs to the effect. 
 
NOTES: ACT II, SCENE IV 141 
 
 Page 58. 58. Meed. Reward. 
 65. In lieu of. In return for. 
 
 74. Too late a week. A week is an adverbial phrase equivalent 
 to i' the week; entirely too late. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Page 59. 4. I could find in my heart. Am almost inclined. 
 
 6. Doublet and hose. Coat and breeches. According to Fair- 
 holt {Costume in England, p. 437), the name doublet was derived 
 'from the garment being made of double stuff padded between. 
 . . . The doublet was close, and fitted tightly to the body; the 
 skirts reaching a little below the girdle.' The same writer (p. 512) 
 says of hose, 'This word, now applied solely to the stocking, was 
 originally used to imply the breeches or chausses.' 
 
 12. I should bear no cross. A play upon the figurative ex- 
 pression in Matthew x, 38; a cross being upon the reverse of all the 
 silver coins of Elizabeth. 
 
 Page 60. 30. Fantasy. The earlier form of the word fancy. 
 
 37. Wearing. Fatiguing, exhausting. 
 
 43. Searching of. In searching of, or a-searching of; searching 
 being in reality a verbal noun. 
 
 47. A-night. At or by night. 
 
 48. Batler. Bailer, the name of an instrument with which 
 washers beat their clothes; a square piece of wood with a handle. 
 
 50. A peascod. The peascod is the husk or pod which contains 
 the peas, but it here appears to be used for the plant itself. 
 
 Page 61. 56. Wiser. More wisely. For examples of adjec- 
 tives used as adverbs cf. Abbott, sect. 1. — Ware. Aware. 
 
 60. Upon my fashion. After or according to my fashion. 
 
 79. The fleeces that I graze. Fleeces for flocks. 
 
 Page 62. 80. Churlish. Miserly, penurious. From A. S. ceorl, 
 a clown, comes churlish in the sense of rough, rude, as in II, i, 7, 
 and thence is derived the secondary meaning which it has in the 
 present passage. 
 
 81. Recks. Cares. 
 
 83. Cote. A shepherd's hut, called a cottage in 1. 93. — Bounds 
 of feed. Limits within which he had the right of pasturage. 
 
 87. In my voice. So far as my vote is concerned, so far as I 
 have authority to bid you welcome. 
 
 92. If it stand with. If it be consistent with. 
 
 100. Feeder. Servant. 
 
142 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Scene V- 
 
 Page 63. 15. Ragged. Rugged, rough. So Isaiah ii, 21: 'To 
 go into the clefts of the rocks, and into the tops of the ragged 
 rocks.' 
 
 Page 64. 26. Dog-apes. Baboons. 
 
 30. Cover. Lay the cloth for the banquet. 
 
 32. To look you. To look for you. 
 
 34. Disputable. Disputatious, fond of argument. 
 
 53. Ducdame. It is in vain that any meaning is sought for this 
 jargon, as Jaques only intended to fill up a line with sounds that 
 have no sense. 
 
 Page 65. 61. His banquet. The banquet was, strictly speak- 
 ing, the wine and dessert after dinner, and it is here used in this 
 sense, for Amiens says above, ' The duke will drink under this 
 tree.' 
 
 Scene VI 
 
 2. For food. For want of food. 
 
 8. Conceit. Fancy, imagination. Cf. Hamlet (III, iv, 113): — 
 
 Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. 
 
 10. Presently. Immediately. 
 
 Scene VII 
 
 Page 66. 5. Compact of jars. Composed of discords. Jar as 
 a substantive is used elsewhere by Shakespeare, in the general 
 sense of discord. 
 
 6. Discord in the spheres. The old belief in the music of the 
 spheres is frequently referred to by Shakespeare. 
 
 13. A motley fool. In Shakespeare's time the dress of the 
 domestic fool, who formed an essential element in large house- 
 holds, was motley or parti-colored. 
 
 19. Call me not fool, etc. Referring, as Upton pointed out, to 
 the proverbial saying, Fortuna favet fatuis. Ray, in his Collection 
 of English Proverbs, has, 'Fortune favors fools, or fools have the 
 best luck.' 
 
 20. From his poke. The pouch or pocket which he wore by his 
 side. 
 
 Page 67. 23. Wags. Moves along. 
 
 32. Sans intermission. In a note on The Tempest (I, ii, 97) 
 it is shown that the French preposition sans (from Lat. sine, as 
 certes from certe) was actually adopted for a time as an English 
 word. 
 
NOTES: ACT II, SCENE VII 143 
 
 39. Dry as the remainder biscuit. In the physiology of Shake- 
 speare's time, a dry brain accompanied slowness of apprehension 
 and a retentive memory. 
 
 40. Places. Topics or subjects of discourse. 
 
 48. As large a charter as the wind. To blow where it listeth. 
 
 Page 68. 55. Bob. A rap, a jest. 
 
 57. Squandering. Random, without definite aim. To squander 
 is to scatter. 
 
 63. For a counter. A worthless wager; a counter being a piece 
 of metal of no value, used only for calculations. 
 
 67. Headed evils. Like tumors grown to a head. 
 
 75. The city-woman. The citizen's wife. 
 
 Page 69. 79. Of basest function. Holding the meanest office. 
 
 80. Bravery. Finery. 
 
 85. Free. Innocent. 
 
 86. Taxing. Censure. 
 
 90. Of what kind should this cock come of? For the repetition 
 of the preposition see below, 1. 138: 'Wherein we play in.' And 
 Coriolanus (II, i, 14): 'In what enormity is Marcius poor in?' 
 
 94. My vein. My disposition or humor. 
 
 96. Inland bred. Bred in the interior of the country, in the 
 heart of the population, and therefore in the center of refinement 
 and culture, as opposed to those born in remote upland or outlying 
 districts. 
 
 97. Nurture. Education, good breeding. 
 Page 70. 108. Commandment. Command. 
 
 113. Knoll'd. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives, 'Carillonner. To 
 chyme, or knowle, bells.' So also Palsgrave, 'I knolle a bell. 
 Je frappe du batant. 1 
 
 117. My strong enforcement. That which strongly supports 
 my petition. 
 
 124. Upon command. In answer to your command, according 
 to any order you may give; and so, at your pleasure. 
 
 Page 71. 138. All the world's a stage. 'Totus mundus agit 
 histrionem,' 1 from a fragment of Petronius, is said to have been the 
 motto on the Globe Theatre. 
 
 147. Sighing like furnace. As the furnace sends out smoke. 
 
 149. Bearded like the pard. With long pointed mustaches, 
 bristling like a panther's or a leopard's feelers. 
 
 150. Sudden. Hasty. 
 
 155. Saws. Sayings, maxims. — Modern. Commonplace, of 
 every-day occurrence. Cf. IV, i, 6; Macbeth (IV, hi, 63): — 
 
 Where violent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstasy. 
 
144 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Page 72. 157. Pantaloon. The word and character were bor- 
 rowed from the Italian stage. 
 
 174. Unkind. Unnatural. This literal sense of the word ap- 
 pears to be the most prominent here. 
 
 Page 73. 186. Though thou the waters warp. The prominent 
 idea of warp is that of turning or changing, from which is derived 
 the idea of shrinking or contracting as wood does. 
 
 192. Effigies. Likeness. 
 
 193. Limn'd. Drawn and painted. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Page 74. 2. The better part. The greater part. 
 
 4. Thou present. Thou being present. 
 
 1G. Of such a nature. Whose especial duty it is. 
 
 17. Make an extent upon his house and lands. 'Upon all 
 debts of record due to the Crown, the sovereign has his peculiar 
 remedy by writ of extent; which differs in this respect from an. 
 ordinary writ of execution at suit of the subject, that under it the 
 body, lands, and goods of the debtor may be all taken at once, in 
 order to compel the payment of the debt. And this proceeding 
 is called an extent, from the words of the writ; winch directs the 
 sheriff to cause the lands, goods, and chattels to be appraised at 
 their full, or extended, value (extendi facias), before they are de- 
 livered to satisfy the debt.' 
 
 18. Expediently. Speedily, expeditiously. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Page 75. 2. Thrice-crowned. Ruling in heaven, on earth, 
 and in the underworld, as Luna, Diana, and Hecate. 
 
 6. Character. Inscribe. 
 
 15. Naught. Bad, worthless. The old English forms of the 
 word are the same as no ivhit and the negative of aught. 
 
 Page 76. 30. May complain of good breeding. That is, of the 
 want of good breeding. Cf. II, iv, 69. 
 
 38. All on one side. Explanatory of ill-roasted. 
 
 44. Parlous. Perilous, dangerous. 
 
 47. Mockable. Liable to ridicule. 
 
 52. Still. Constantly. 
 
 53. Fells. The skins of sheep with the wool on. 
 
NOTES: ACT III, SCENE II 145 
 
 Page 77. 55. A mutton. A sheep. Like beef, the word is now 
 used only of the flesh of the slaughtered animal. 
 
 66. Perpend. Reflect, consider. 
 
 71. God make incision in thee! The reference is to the old 
 method of cure for most maladies by blood-letting. 
 
 71. Raw. Untrained, untutored. 
 
 74. Content with my harm. Patient under my own misfortunes. 
 
 Page 78. 94. It is the right butterwomen's rank to market. 
 Going one after another, at a jog-trot, like butterwomen going to 
 market. 
 
 109. False gallop. The unnatural pace which a horse is taught 
 to go; apparently the same as canter or Canterbury gallop, said to 
 be so called from being the pace adopted by pilgrims to the shrine 
 of St. Thomas at Canterbury. 
 
 113. Graff. The old form of graft, from Fr. greffer. 
 
 Page 79. 114. A medlar. The top-shaped fruit, resembling 
 a pear, of a large shrub, which grows in the hedges of England. Its 
 fruit is harsh even when ripe. (Co. Ed.) For the pun upon medlar 
 cf. Timon of Athens (IV, iii, 307-309). 
 
 124. Civil sayings. The sayings or maxims of civilization and 
 refinement. 
 
 126. Erring, Wandering; not used here in a moral sense. Cf. 
 Hamlet (I, i, 154): 'The extravagant and erring spirit.' 
 
 128. Buckles in. Encompasses. 
 
 132. Sentence end. For the omission of the mark of the pos- 
 sessive see Abbott, sect. 217. 
 
 135. Quintessence. The fifth essence, called also by the med- 
 iaeval philosophers the spirit or soul of the world, ' whome we tearme 
 the quinticense, because he doth not consist of the foure Elementes, 
 but is a certaine fifth, a thing aboue them or beside them.' 
 
 136. In little. In miniature. 
 
 143. Atalanta's better part. This expression has given occasion 
 to much discussion. . Steevens was probably right in saying it was 
 that for which she was most commended, but the question still 
 remains what this was. In the story of Atalanta as told in Ovid 
 (Met. x), where Shakespeare may have read it in Golding's trans- 
 lation, it is clearly her beauty and grace of form which attracted 
 her suitors to compete in the race with her at the risk of being the 
 victims of her cruelty. For instance, Hippomenes, looking on at 
 first with a feeling of contempt, begins to think the prize worth 
 competing for: — 
 
 And though that she 
 Did flie as swift as Arrow from a Turkie bow; yet hee 
 More woondred at her beautie, then at swiftnesse of her pace, 
 Her running greatly did augment her beautie and her grace. 
 
 (Golding's trans, ed. 1603, fol. 128.) 
 
14G AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Page 80. 148. Touches. Traits. 
 
 171. Seven of the nine days that a wonder usually lasts. 
 
 173. On a palm-tree. Those who desire that Shakespeare shall 
 be infallible on all subjects, human and divine, explain the palm- 
 tree in this passage as the goat willow, the branches of which arc 
 still carried and put up in churches on Palm Sunday, But as the 
 forest of Arden is taken from Lodge's novel, it is more likely that 
 the trees in it came from the same source. 
 
 173. Since Pythagoras' time. The doctrine of the transmigra- 
 tion of souls is referred to again by Shakespeare in The Merchant 
 of Venice (IV, i, 131) and Twelfth Night (IV, ii, 54-60). 
 
 Page 81. 174. An Irish rat. The belief that rats were rhymed 
 to death in Ireland is frequently alluded to in the dramatists. 
 Malone quotes from Sidney's Apologiefor Poetrie, 'Though I will 
 not wish vnto you, the Asses eares of Midas, nor to bee driuen by 
 a Poet's verses (as Bubonax was) to hang himselfe, nor to be 
 rimed to death, as is sayd to be doone in Ireland, yet this much 
 curse I must send you.' The supposed effect of music upon these 
 animals will be present to the recollection of everyone who has 
 read Browning's ' Pied Piper of Hamelin.' 
 
 191. Good my complexion! Rosalind appeals to her com- 
 plexion not to betray her by changing color. 
 
 193. One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery. If 
 you delay the least to satisfy my curiosity, I shall ask you in the 
 interval so many more questions that to answer them will be like em- 
 barking on a voyage of discovery over a wide and unknown ocean. 
 
 Page 82. 205. Stay. Wait for. 
 
 210. Sad brow. Serious countenance. 
 
 216. Wherein went he? How was he dressed? 
 
 221. Gargantua's mouth. Rabelais's giant, who swallowed five 
 pilgrims at a gulp. (R. Ed.) 
 
 228. Atomies. The motes in the sunbeams. 
 
 Page 83. 239. The ground. The background of the picture. 
 
 240. Cry 'holla' to. Check, restrain, a term of horsemanship. 
 
 244. Without a burthen. 'The burden of a song, in the old 
 acceptation of the word, was the base, foot, or under-song. It 
 was sung throughout, and not merely at the end of a verse.' 
 
 Page 84. 270. Rings. References to the posies in rings are 
 to be found in Hamlet (III, ii, 143) and The Merchant of Venice 
 (V, i, 149). These mottoes were written on the inside of rings in 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and on the outside in the 
 fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. 
 
 271. Right painted cloth. Hangings for rooms were made of 
 canvas with figures and mottoes or moral sentences. The scenes 
 were frequently of scripture subjects. 
 
NOTES: ACT III, SCENE III 147 
 
 277. No breather. No living being. 
 
 Page 85. 311. A se'nnight. Sevennight, a week; an old mode 
 of reckoning which still survives in provincial dialects. We retain 
 it in fortnight = fourteen night. 
 
 Page 86. 337. Purchase. Acquire. — Removed. Remote, 
 retired. 
 
 339. Religious. That is, a member of some religious order. 
 
 348. They were all like one another as halfpence are. No 
 halfpence were coined in Elizabeth's reign till 15S2-83. Bacon 
 refers to 'the late new halfpence' in the Dedication to the first 
 edition of the Essays, which was published in 1597. 
 
 Page 87. 358. Fancy-monger. Love-monger, one who deals in 
 love. 
 
 360. The quotidian of love. A quotidian fever is one which is 
 continuous, as distinguished from an intermittent fever which 
 comes in fits. 
 
 363. There is followed by a plural. (See Abbott, sect. 335.) 
 
 367. A blue eye. Not blue in the iris, but blue or livid in the 
 eyelids, and especially beneath the eyes. A mark of sorrow. 
 
 368. Unquestionable. Averse to question or conversation. 
 371. Your having. Your possession. Cf. Twelfth Night (III, 
 
 iv, 333) : ' My having is not much.' 
 
 373. Bonnet. Bonnet was used in Shakespeare's time for a 
 man's hat. See The Merchant of Venice (I, ii, 81): 'His bonnet in 
 Germany, and his behaviour everywhere.' 
 
 376. Point-device. Faultless, precise. 
 
 Page 88. 395. A dark house and a whip. The more humane 
 treatment of lunatics is a growth of recent times. 
 
 Page 89. 416. Wash your liver. The liver, in ancient physi- 
 ology, was regarded as the seat of the passions. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 1. Audrey, a corruption of Etheldreda, as tawdry laces derive 
 their name from being sold at the fair of St. Etheldreda, abbess 
 of Ely, which was held on October 17. 
 
 6. Thy goats, etc. It is necessary to observe that there is a 
 pun intended on goats and Goths, and that this is further sustained 
 by the word capricious, which is from the Italian capriccioso, 
 humorous or fantastical, and this from capra, a goat. 
 
 Page 90. 9. Ill-inhabited. Ill-lodged. 
 
 14. A great reckoning in a little room. A large bill for a small 
 company. 
 
 31. Material. Full of matter. 
 
 35. Foul. Ugly; of the complexion, as opposed to fair. 
 
148 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Page 91. 42. Sir Oliver Martext. Sir was given to those who 
 had taken the bachelor's degree at a university, and corresponded 
 to the Latin Dominus, which still exists in the Cambridge Univer- 
 sity lists in its abbreviated form Ds. 
 
 56. Rascal. A lean deer, one out of condition. 
 
 Page 92. 73. God 'ild you. God yield you, God reward you. 
 
 75. A toy. A trifling matter. 
 
 76. Be covered. Put on your hat. Touchstone assumes a pat- 
 ronizing air towards Jaques. 
 
 89. But I were better. That it were not better for me. 
 Page 93. 97. O sweet Oliver. A fragment of an old ballad 
 referred to by Ben Jonson. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 8. Something browner than Judas's. Judas in the old tapes- 
 tries is said to have been represented with a red beard. 
 
 14. Holy bread. The sacramental bread. 
 
 Page 94. 34. Question. Conversation. 
 
 36. What. Why. Cf. Coriolanus (III, iii, 83): 'What do you 
 prate of service?' 
 
 40. Quite traverse. Like an unskilful tilter, who breaks his 
 staff across instead of striking it full against his adversary's shield 
 and so splitting it lengthwise. 
 
 41. Puisny. Inferior, unskilful; as a novice. 
 
 Scene V 
 
 Page 95. 6. But first begs pardon. Without first begging 
 pardon. See Edwards's Life of Raleigh (i, 704): 'The executioner 
 then kneeled to him for the forgiveness of his office. Raleigh 
 placed both his hands on the man's shoulders, and assured him 
 that he forgave him with all his heart.' 
 
 7. Dies and lives. Mr. Arrowsmith has shown (Notes and 
 Queries, 1st Series, vii, 542) that 'This hyzteron proteron is by no 
 means uncommon: its meaning is, of course, the same as live and 
 die, i. e., subsist from the cradle to the grave.' 
 
 Page 96. 23. Cicatrice. Properly, the scar of a wound; here, 
 a mark, or indentation. — Capable impressure. Sensible impres- 
 sion. 
 
 Page 97. 39. Without candle. Without exciting any particu- 
 lar desire for light to see it by. (R. Ed.) 
 
 43. Of nature's sale-work. Of what nature makes for general 
 sale and not according to order or pattern. The modern phrase is 
 
NOTES: ACT IV, SCENE I 149 
 
 ready-made goods. — 'Od's my little life. A very diminutive oath. 
 'Od's is of course for God's. 
 
 47. Bugle. Black, as beads of black glass which are called 
 bugles. 
 
 48. Entame. Subdue, render tame. — To your worship. To 
 worship you. 
 
 Page 98. 79. Abused. Deceived. 
 
 81. Dead shepherd. Christopher Marlowe, slain in a brawl 
 by Francis Archer, June 1, 1593, is the shepherd, and the verse is 
 from his Hero and Leander, first published in 1598: — 
 
 Where both deliberate, the love is slight: 
 Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight? 
 
 Page 99. 10S. Carlot. Clown, rustic; a diminutive of carle, 
 or churl. 
 
 110. Peevish. Petulant. 
 
 Page 100. 123. Constant. Uniform. — Mingled damask. Red 
 and white, like the color of damask roses. 
 
 125. In parcels. Piecemeal, in detail. 
 
 129. What had he to do to chide. What business had he to 
 chide. 
 
 131. I am remember' d. I remember. 
 
 136. Straight. Immediately. As in Hamlet (V, i, 4): 'And 
 therefore make her grave straight.' 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Page 101. 7. Modern. Cf. note on II, vii, 155. — Censure. 
 Opinion, criticism. Cf . Hamlet (I, hi, 67) : — 
 
 Take each man's censure but reserve thy judgement. 
 
 14. Nice. Foolish, trifling. 
 
 16. Simples. The single ingredients of a compound mixture. 
 Generally applied to herbs. 
 
 19. Humorous. Fanciful. 
 
 Page 102. 31. Look you lisp, etc. See Overbury's Characters, 
 where 'An Affectate Traveller' is described: 'He censures all things 
 by countenances, and shrugs, and speakes his own language with 
 shame and lisping.' Rosalind's satire is not yet without point. 
 
 32. Disable. Depreciate, disparage. 
 
 45. Clapped him o' the shoulder. Arrested him, like a ser- 
 geant. Rosalind hints that Cupid's power over Orlando was 
 merely superficial. 
 
150 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Page 103. 57. Beholding. Beholden. Cf . Julius Ccesar, (III, 
 ii, 68). 
 
 63. Leer. Mien, look. 
 
 70. Gravelled. Puzzled, at a standstill. Run down to the 
 sediment. (R. Ed.) Cf. Bacon, Advancement of Learning (i, 7, 
 sect. 8) : ' But when Marcus Philosophus came in, Silenus was 
 gravelled and out of countenance.' 
 
 72. When they are out. When they are at a loss, having for- 
 gotten their part. 
 
 Page 104. 81. Ranker. Greater. 
 
 101. Chroniclers. The report of the chroniclers or historians 
 is compared to the finding of a coroner's jury. Hanmer read coro- 
 ners, justifying his emendation by what follows; for found is the 
 technical word used with regard to the verdict of a coroner's ju^, 
 which is still called their finding. 
 
 Page 106. 147. New-fangled. Changeable, fond of novelty 
 and new fashions. 
 
 150. A hyen. A hyena. 
 
 156. Make the doors. Shut the doors. 
 
 169. Make her fault . . . occasion. Represent that her fault 
 was occasioned, or caused, by her husband. 
 
 Page 107. 174. Lack. Do without. 
 
 Page 108. 204. The bay of Portugal. That portion of the sea 
 off the coast of Portugal from Oporto to the headland of Cintra. 
 The water there is excessively deep, and within a distance of forty 
 miles from the shore it attains a depth of upwards of 1,400 fathoms, 
 which in Shakespeare's time would be practically unfathomable. 
 
 20S. Spleen. A sudden impulse of passion, whether of love or 
 hatred. 
 
 213. A shadow. A shady place. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Page 110. 17. As rare as phoenix, which, according to Seneca 
 (Epist. 42), was born only once in five hundred years. Cf. Sir 
 T. Browne's Vulgar Errors (B. 3, c, 12): 'That there is but one 
 Phoenix in the world, which after many hundred years burnetii it- 
 self, and from the ashes thereof ariseth up another is a conceit, not 
 new or altogether popular, but of great Antiquity.' 
 
 Page 111. 50. Eyne. A poetical form of the plural, generally 
 used for the sake of the rhyme. 
 
 53. Aspect. An astrological term used to denote the favorable 
 or unfavorable appearance of the planets. 
 
 Page 112. 75. Fair ones. Shakespeare seems to have for- 
 
NOTES: ACT V, SCENE II 151 
 
 gotten that Celia was apparently the only woman present. Per- 
 haps we should read fair one. 
 
 76. Purlieus. The skirts or borders of a forest; originally a 
 part of the forest itself. A technical term. 
 
 78. The neighbour bottom. The neighboring dell or dale. 
 
 93. Napkin. Handkerchief. See Othello (III, iii, 290), where 
 Emilia says: 'I am glad I have found this napkin.' 
 
 Page 113. 114. With udders all drawn dry. Fierce with 
 hunger; sucked dry by her cubs, and therefore hungry. 
 
 Page 114. 131. Hurtling. Din, tumult, noise of a conflict. 
 An imitative word. 
 
 Page 115. 163. Be of good cheer. Be cheerful, cheer up! 
 Cheer, from Fr. chere, was originally the countenance. 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Page 117. 12. We shall be flouting. We must have our joke. 
 For shall in this sense cf. I, i, 125. 
 
 14. God ye good even. God give you good even. 
 
 Page 119. 56. Bastinado. A banging, or beating with a 
 cudgel. — Bandy with thee. Contend with thee. 
 
 61. God rest you merry. Tins salutation at taking leave oc- 
 curs in the shorter form in Romeo and Juliet (I, ii, 62): 'Ye say 
 honestly: rest you merry!' 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Page 120. 11. Estate. Settle as an estate. 
 
 29. I know where you are. I know what you mean, what you 
 are hinting at. 
 
 31. Thrasonical. Boastful; from Thraso, the boaster in the 
 Eunuchus of Terence. The 'brag' is the celebrated dispatch of 
 Caesar to the Senate after his defeat of Pharnaces near Zela in 
 Pontus. 
 
 Page 121. 39. Incontinent. Immediately. 
 
 54. Of good conceit. Of good intelligence or mental capacity. 
 
 62. Conversed. Been conversant, associated. 
 
 63. Damnable. Worthy of condemnation. 
 
 64. Gesture. Carriage, bearing. 
 
 Page 122. 71. Which I tender dearly, etc. By 5 Elizabeth, 
 ch. 16, 'An Act agaynst Conjuracons, Inchantmentes, and Witche- 
 
152 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 craftes/ it was enacted that all persons using witchcraft, etc., 
 whereby death ensued, should be put to death without benefit of 
 clergy. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Page 124. 4. Dishonest. Unvirtuous or immodest. 
 
 5. To be a woman of the world. That is, to be married. Bea- 
 trice says in Much Ado about Nothing (II, i, 282), 'Thus goes every 
 one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt: I may sit in a corner 
 and cry heigh-ho for a husband ! ' 
 
 11. Shall we clap into 't roundly. Shall we set about it directly? 
 
 Page 125. 35. No great matter in the ditty. No great sense 
 or meaning in the words of the song. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Page 126. 4. As those that fear they hope, etc. Those who 
 are so diffident that they even hope fearfully, and are only cert ain 
 that they fear. 
 
 Page 127. 27. Lively. Lifelike. — Touches. Traits. 
 
 35. Toward. At hand or coming on. 
 
 43. Let him put me to my purgation. Let him give me an op- 
 portunity of proving the truth of what I have said. 
 
 44. A measure. A stately dance, suited to the court. 
 48. Ta'en up. Made up. 
 
 Page 128. 56. Copulatives. Those who desire to be joined in 
 marriage. 
 
 57. Blood. Passion. 
 62. Swift. Quick-witted. 
 
 64. The fool's bolt, which, according to the proverb, is soon shot. 
 
 65. Such dulcet diseases. Those who wish to make sense of 
 Touchstone's nonsense would read discourses, or phrases, or dis- 
 cords, instead of diseases. 
 
 68. Seven times removed. Reckoning backwards from the lie 
 direct. 
 
 69. More seeming. More seemly, more becomingly. 
 
 75. Quip. A smart jest. Milton has preserved the word in 
 'L' Allegro,' 27: — 
 
 Quips and cranks and wanton wiles. 
 
 76. Disabled. Disparaged. 
 
 80. Countercheck. A rebuff, a check. The figure is from the 
 game of chess. 
 
 Page 129. 90. We quarrel in print, by the book. The par- 
 ticular work which Shakespeare s°ems to have had in view was a 
 treatise by Vincentio Saviolo, printed in 1595, in two books: the 
 
NOTES: ACT V, SCENE IV 153 
 
 first treating of the use of the Rapier and Dagger; the second, of 
 Honor and Honorable Quarrels. 
 
 91. Books for good manners. Like 'the card or calendar of 
 gentry,] to which Osric compares Laertes (Hamlet, V, ii, 111), evi- 
 dently in allusion to the title of some such book. 
 
 106. A stalking-horse. Either a real horse or the figure of a 
 horse, used by sportsmen to get near their game. 
 
 107. Presentation. Semblance. 
 
 Page 130. 110. Atone together. Are reconciled or made one. 
 As in Coriolanus (IV, vi, 72) : — 
 
 He and Aufidius can no more atone 
 Than vi.olentest contrariety. 
 
 See in Acts vii, 26, 2 Mace, i, 5, the phrases to set at one in the sense 
 of to reconcile, and to be at one in the sense of to be reconciled, from 
 which atone is derived. 
 
 Page 131. 130. If truth holds true contents. If there be any 
 truth in truth. This appears to be the only sense of whi.cn the 
 poor phrase is capable. 
 
 Page 132. 156. Address'd. Equipped, prepared. Cf. 2 Henry 
 IV (IV, iv, 5): — 
 
 Our navy is address'd, our power collected. 
 
 157. In his own conduct. Under his own guidance, led by 
 himself. 
 
 167. Offer'st fairly. Contributest fairly, makest a handsome 
 present. 
 
 168. To the other. That is, Orlando, by his marriage with 
 Rosalind. 
 
 172. After. Afterwards. — Every. Everyone. 
 
 173. Shrewd. Bad, evil. 
 
 Page 133. 180. By your patience. By your leave, with your 
 permission. 
 
 182. Pompous. Attended with pomp and ceremony. 
 
 184. Convertites. Converts. 
 
 187. Deserves. The singular verb often follows two substan- 
 tives which represent one idea. 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 Page 134. 4. No bush. A bush or tuft of ivy was the usual 
 sign of a vintner. 
 
 17. If I were a woman. Men or boys, in Shakespeare's time, 
 acted the parts of the women in the play. The actor is here speak- 
 ing in his own person. 
 
 19. Lik'd. Pleased. — Defied. Slighted, disliked. 
 
QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR STUDY 
 
 By Gerald Abbot Seabury 
 
 READING REFERENCES 
 
 Bagehot. Shakespeare the Man. 
 
 Baker. The Development of Shakespeare as a Dramatist. 
 
 Brandes. Shakcspeaie: His Mind and Art. 
 
 Coleridge. Notes of Shakespeare's Plays. 
 
 Dowden. Shakspere: His Mind and Art, pp. 255-258. 
 
 Dowden. Shakspere Primer. 
 
 Gervinus. Commentaries, pp. 698-721. 
 
 Green. Short History of the English People. (For historical 
 
 setting.) 
 
 Hazlitt. Characters of Shakespeare's Plays, pp. 23-30. 
 
 Hazlitt. Shakespeare. 
 
 Jameson. Characters of Shakespeare's Women. 
 
 Lee. A Life of William Shakespeare. 
 
 Moulton. Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
 
 Phillips. Outlines of the Life of William Shakespeare. 
 
 Raleigh. Shakespeare (English Men of Letters Series). 
 
 Snider. Historical Commentaries, pp. 144-228. (Drama.) 
 
 Ulrici. Dramatic Art, pp. 195-200. 
 
 Winter. Shakespeare's England. 
 
 PRELIMINARY STUDY 
 
 I. Sources of the play. 
 II. Date. 
 
 (1) By external evidence. 
 (a) Registration. 
 
 (2) Partly by internal evidence, 
 (a) Reference to other works. 
 
 (6) Reference to contemporary events, etc. 
 
 (3) Wholly by internal evidence. 
 
 (a) Quality of blank verse. 
 
 (b) Proportion of blank verse and rhyme. 
 
 (c) Proportion of feminine or of weak endings. 
 
 III. The Elizabethan theaters. 
 
 IV. The Shakespeare country. 
 
 154 
 
TOPICS FOR STUDY: ACT I, SCENE III 155 
 
 STUDY OF AS YOU LIKE IT 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 1. Sum up Orlando's grievances. What impression do they con- 
 vey of Oliver's character? 
 
 2. What is the underlying reason for Oliver's hatred of Orlando? 
 
 3. What historical interest attaches to the part of Adam? 
 
 4. Note that Orlando's second brother is named Jaques. Avoid 
 confusing him with 'the melancholy Jaques.' 
 
 5. In what light does Charles the wrestler appear here? 
 
 6. What phrases (11. 114-119) strike the keynote of this comedy 
 and mark the tune of its leisurely action? 
 
 Scene II 
 
 1. In this and in the following scene, point out what character- 
 istics of Rosalind and Celia are revealed by their dialogues. -— 
 
 2. Beginning with this scene, note how everything that Rosa- 
 lind says of women in general applies to herself in particular. 
 
 3. What is the significance of Touchstone's name? Compare 
 him with other Shakespearean Fools. 
 
 4. What is the allusion in Celia's speech (1. 87)? 
 
 5. How does Duke Frederick unwittingly cause Rosalind's 
 first interest in Orlando? What means are used, throughout this 
 play, to increase and decrease sympathy with each of the char- 
 acters? 
 
 6. What effect is produced on Rosalind by Orlando's reply 
 (11. 185-195)? 
 
 7. Comment on Rosalind's action in giving the chain to Or- 
 lando. Was it 'after the fashion of these times'? How does 
 Touchstone afterward make a jest of it? 
 
 8. L. 208. Why is the remainder of this scene in blank verse? 
 
 9. Is Shakespeare's treatment of 'love at first sight' merely a 
 convenient theory for play writing, or was it a belief with him? 
 Cf . other instances in all his plays, from Romeo and Juliet to The 
 Tempest. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 1. What side of Rosalind's nature is shown here? 
 
 2. Is Duke Frederick malicious toward Rosalind, or secretly 
 zealous for his daughter? Is Rosalind actually 'detained by her 
 
 
156 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 . usurping uncle' or merely allowed to remain at court on suffer- 
 ance? In the light of your answer, explain his later actions. 
 
 3. Compare Rosalind's affection for Celia with Celia's for her, 
 and account for the difference. 
 
 4. Compare Rosalind and Celia with Beatrice and Hero (Much 
 Ado About Nothing). 
 
 5. Point out the analogy between JRosalind's speech (11. 113- 
 121) and Portia's (Merchant of Venice III, iv, 60). 
 
 6. L. 113. In what other plays does Shakespeare make use of 
 this expedient? Give reasons for the repetition. 
 
 7. What has been accomplished by Act I? Show how every 
 action that branches out in later acts — with the exception of the 
 Silvius-Phebe and the Touchstone- Audrey episodes — is rooted here. 
 
 8. Comment on the use of prose and verse throughout the play. 
 Give reasons for the suitability of each, where each occurs. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I 
 
 1. What is the effect of this scene, in contrast with the preced- 
 ing ones? 
 
 2. How is the eulogy of the forest life a probable echo of Shake- 
 speare's own mood when he wrote this comedy? What circum- 
 stances in his career at this time lead us to form such conjecture? 
 
 3. What is the purpose in referring at some length to the ab- 
 sent Jaques (11. 26 f.) before he enters into the action? What 
 impression of him do these lines convey? 
 
 '■■ 4. Wliat common belief is expressed in 11. 46-49? 
 
 5. Select examples of (1) antithesis, (2) synecdoche, (3) simile, 
 (4) apostrophe, (5) metaphor, (6) irony. 
 
 6. Study the versification; choose five lines, not in regular 
 iambic pentameter, and specify wherein each differs, scanning to 
 prove your point. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 1. What 'qualities of birth and breeding' does Orlando show 
 here? Add to your previous estimate of him. 
 
 2. What does Orlando mean by 'a diverted blood'? 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 1. Consider this scene and Scene v as a continuation of Scene i, 
 and give reasons why the sequence is interrupted by Scene iii. 
 
 2. State the intervals of time between each act and scene of this 
 play. 
 
TOPICS FOR STUDY: ACT It, SCENE VII 157 
 
 3. Explain 'the wooing of a peascod' (1. 50). Is Touchstone's 
 account of himself as a lover (11. 45-55) to be taken seriously? 
 Why, then, does he say this fashion of loving 'grows something 
 stale' with him? Criticise his later conduct with Audrey. How 
 does Jaques regard it (III, hi)? 
 
 4. Why does Rosalind abandon the idea of seeking her father in 
 the forest (cf . Ill, iv, 29-32^ 
 
 Scene V 
 
 1. How do Jaques's speeches here and in Scene vii interpret his 
 nature? Is his 'melancholy' real or assumed? 
 
 2. Give two meanings of 'live i' the sun,' as used here. Illus- 
 trate, if you can, by examples of the same phrase in other plays. 
 
 3. flow is the sylvan atmosphere created by this scene and by 
 Scene i? 
 
 4. What action is understood to accompany the words: 'to call 
 fools into a circle' (1. 58)? 
 
 5. Note that Scenes i, v, and vii may be supposed to take place 
 in the same part of the forest, while Scenes iv and vi are laid in a 
 different part. 
 
 6. Account for the multiplicity of scenes in this play, and ex- 
 plain briefly why they were feasible in Shakespeare's time. What 
 effect did the poverty of stage settings have on dramatic poetry? 
 
 7. Point out examples of description. 
 
 Scene VII 
 
 1. How do the First Lord's words to the duke and the duke's 
 reply hint at their attitude toward Jaques? 
 
 2. What other references are there in Shakespeare to 'music in 
 the spheres' (1. 6)? 
 
 3. Explain in your own words why Jaques wishes he were a 
 motley fool. In this respect, does he seem to be a mouthpiece for 
 Shakespeare himself? 
 
 4. Which of the various readings of 11. 53-57 seems clearest to 
 you? Why? Define the metonymy. 
 
 5. Recast Jaques's speech in 11. 70-87 in your own words, giving 
 the full meaning. 
 
 6. LI. 136-139. Quote similar passages in other plays of Shake- 
 speare. 
 
 7. How does the song form a very appropriate ending for this 
 scene? 
 
 8. Cite instances of rhymed endings of acts or scenes. Com- 
 pare their number in this play with like examples in other 
 plays. 
 
158 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I 
 
 1. Why does Duke Frederick claim to be merciful to Oliver, 
 while he threatens him with punishment for an offense similar to 
 his own? Does this show the dawn of his later repentance? 
 
 Scene II 
 
 1. Comment on Touchstone's treatment of Corin. 
 
 2. Can you recall other references to the posies in rings (1. 270)? 
 
 3. Account for Orlando's and Jaques's mutual dislike. 
 
 4. Does Orlando half recognize Rosalind in the guise of a youth? 
 (Cf. V, iv, 28-29.) 
 
 5. Why is this poetical love scene in prose? 
 
 Scene III 
 
 1. In what light is Jaques shown here? 
 
 2. Contrast Audrey with Phebe. 
 
 3. Give examples of words that are used in a different sense 
 from their present usage. 
 
 Scene V 
 
 1. Is the love episode of Silvius and Phebe a satire on the 
 academic, literary love of the Elizabethan pastorals? What part 
 has it in this play, i. e., what does it contribute to the character of 
 Rosalind? 
 
 2. Enumerate the various forms of love portrayed in this 
 comedy. 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Scene I 
 
 1. Why does Jaques wish to be better acquainted with Rosa- 
 lind? What is the effect of her gentle ridicule? The point of her 
 pretending not to notice Orlando until after Jaques is gone? 
 
 2. Compare this love scene with the previous one between 
 Rosalind and Orlando, in respect of the unfolding of the plot. 
 Note how the playful game begins to grow more earnest. By 
 what slight degrees does it work up to a climax? 
 
 3. Does Rosalind feel any real doubt of Orlando's love? What 
 final proof does he give her? 
 
TOPICS FOR STUDY: ACT V, SCENE IV 159 
 
 Scene III 
 
 1. Why does Rosalind chide Silvius so severely? 
 
 2. What is the significance of Oliver's tribute to Orlando 
 (11. 128-129)? How does it compare with praises of him spoken 
 by other persons? 
 
 3. Is Oliver's repentance wholly unexpected? Explain your 
 answer. 
 
 4. What is the climax of the play? 
 
 5. Note how Oliver joins in the love game. Does he guess in- 
 stantly the identity of Rosalind, or has he been previously in- 
 formed by Orlando, of the true situation? 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene II 
 
 1. Show how the love of Oliver and Celia is not merely an after- 
 thought in Shakespeare's mind, but has a purpose in the play. 
 
 2. Why does Oliver ask Orlando's 'consent' (1. 9)? 
 
 3. What significance is there in the way Oliver and Rosalind 
 greet each other (11. 17-24)? Is this intended as a clew for Or- 
 Jarido? 
 
 4. What are Orlando's and Rosalind's opinions of this 'sudden 
 wooing'? 
 
 5. Explain 'wear thy heart in a scarf.' Is this quip meant to be 
 spoken seriously? 
 
 6. What meaning has observance in 1. 96? In 1. 98? 
 
 7. Is the introduction of the magician element out of keeping? 
 Why? 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 1. Comment further on the failure — real or pretended — of 
 both the duke and Orlando to recognize Rosalind. Show how 
 Rosalind 'makes all this matter even.' 
 
 2. Discuss Touchstone as a courtier. Cite passages in other 
 plays wherein Shakespeare satirizes courtiers and duellists. 
 
 3. Does Touchstone use fine phrases without understanding 
 them? Why diseases, 1. 65? Is this misuse of the word inten- 
 tional? 
 
 4. Explain 'a stalking-horse' (1. 106), and name other Eliza- 
 bethan sports and customs mentioned in this play. 
 
 5. Notice the masque of Hymen. What was the origin of the 
 masque? Its purpose and effect here? Where else used by Shake- 
 speare? 
 
160 AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 6. How does the conversion of Duke Frederick bind all the 
 action into unity? 
 
 7. Explain 1. 169. What promise is made here? 
 
 8. Comment on the duke's intention of returning to a 'life of 
 painted pomp/ after the happiness and security of the forest life. 
 
 9. How are Jaques's farewell speeches consistent with his whoie 
 philosophy? 
 
 10. Who usually spoke the Epilogue? What is the appropriate- 
 ness in giving it to Rosalind? 
 
 11. To what does Rosalind refer in saying 'my way is to con- 
 jure you' (1. 10)? 
 
 12. Explain 'if I were a woman' (1. 17). 
 
 13. In the Epilogue and in other passages throughout the play, 
 note fragments of Shakespeare's own criticism. 
 
 GENERAL TOPICS 
 
 1. To what class of Shakespearean plays does A s You Like It 
 belong? Give its date. cr**w* **■*/- ''/ft-^rt. ^\,Lo& 
 
 2. What of the play is borrowed, and from whom? ^^ *^~~ **1 
 
 3. Why is the play called As You Like Itf J ^U~~fr*- h. o*~ — - 
 
 4. State by whom, to whom, and on what occasions these lines 
 were uttered : — 
 
 (a) Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 
 (6) For in my youth I never did apply 
 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood. 
 
 (c) Then a soldier, 
 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
 
 (d) He that wants money, means, and content is without three 
 
 good friends. 
 
 (e) Sell when you can; you are not for all markets. 
 
 (/) A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad; 
 I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's. 
 
 5. Contrast the characters of Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 6. Give your estimate of the duke. 
 
 7. Contrast Corin with Silvius, and Audrey with Phebe. 
 
 8. Write out your estimate of Orlando. 
 
 9. Select from the play five rare similes and as many metaphors. 
 
 10. Give your estimate of the play as a whole. 
 

 
 
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