As You Like It (Folger Shakespeare Library) Read online

  ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep?

  CELIA As good cause as one would desire: therefore weep.

  ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling colour.6

  CELIA Something browner than Judas'. Marry, his kisses7

  are Judas' own children.

  ROSALIND I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.

  CELIA An excellent colour, your10 chestnut was ever the

  only11 colour.

  ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of

  holy bread13.

  CELIA He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana14. A nun

  of winter's sisterhood15 kisses not more religiously, the very ice

  of chastity is in them.

  ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this morning,

  and comes not?

  CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.

  ROSALIND Do you think so?

  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 concave22 as

  a covered goblet23 or a worm-eaten nut.

  ROSALIND Not true in love?

  CELIA Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in.

  ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was.

  CELIA 'Was' is not 'is'. Besides, the oath of a lover is no

  stronger than the word of a tapster28: they are both the

  confirmer of false reckonings29. He attends here in the forest

  on the duke your father.

  ROSALIND I met the duke yesterday and had much question31

  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 puny tilter37,

  that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a

  noble goose39; but all's brave that youth mounts and folly

  guides. Who comes here?

  Enter Corin

  CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired

  After the shepherd that complained of42 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?

  CORIN If you will see a pageant47 truly played,

  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 mark51 it.

  ROSALIND O, come, let us remove52:

  The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.

  Bring us to this sight, and you shall say

  I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 5

  running scene 9 continues

  Enter Silvius and Phoebe

  SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me, do not, Phoebe.

  Say that you love me not, but say not so

  In bitterness. The common executioner,

  Whose heart th'accustomed sight of death makes hard,

  Falls5 not the axe upon the humbled neck

  But first begs pardon6: will you sterner be

  Than he that dies and lives7 by bloody drops?

  They stand aside

  Enter Rosalind, Celia and Corin

  PHOEBE 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:

  'Tis pretty11, sure, and very probable,

  That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,

  Who shut their coward gates on atomies13,

  Should be called 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 counterfeit17 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 rush22,

  The cicatrice and capable impressure23

  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.

  SILVIUS O dear Phoebe, If ever -- as that ever may be near --

  You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy29,

  Then shall you know the wounds invisible

  That love's keen31 arrows make.

  PHOEBE But till that time

  Come not thou near me: and when that time comes,

  Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,

  As till that time I shall not pity thee.

  Steps forward

  ROSALIND And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,

  That you insult, exult, and all at once,

  Over the wretched? What though38 you have no beauty --

  As, by my faith, I see no more in you

  Than without candle may go dark to bed40 --

  Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

  Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?

  I see no more in you than in the ordinary43

  Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's44 my little life,

  I think she means to tangle45 my eyes too!

  No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:

  'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,

  Your bugle48 eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream

  That can entame my spirits to your worship.

  To Silvius

  You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,

  Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain51?

  You are a thousand times a properer52 man

  Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you

  That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.

  'Tis not her glass55 but you that flatters her,

  And out of you she sees herself more proper

  Than any of her lineaments57 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.

  Cry62 the man mercy, love him, take his offer:

  Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer63.

  So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

  PHOEBE Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together65:

  I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.

  Aside or to Phoebe/To Silvius

  ROSALIND He's fallen in love with your foulness--

  and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as

  fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll

  To Phoebe

  sauce70 her with bitter words.-- Why look you so

  upon me?

  PHOEBE For no ill will I bear you.

  ROSALIND I pray you do not fall in love with me,

  For I am falser than vows made in wine74.

  Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,

  'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard76 by.

  Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply77 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 sight80 as he.

  Come, to our flock.

  Exeunt [Rosalind, Celia and Corin]

  PHOEBE Dead
Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might82,

  'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'

  SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe--

  PHOEBE Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius?

  SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe, pity me.

  PHOEBE Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

  SILVIUS Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.

  If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

  By giving love your sorrow and my grief

  Were both extermined91.

  PHOEBE Thou hast my love. Is not that neighbourly92?

  SILVIUS I would have you.

  PHOEBE Why, that were covetousness94.

  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 erst98 was irksome to me,

  I will endure; and I'll employ thee too.

  But do not look for further recompense

  Than thine own gladness that thou art employed.

  SILVIUS So holy and so perfect is my love,

  And I in such a poverty103 of grace,

  That I shall think it a most plenteous crop

  To glean the broken ears105 after the man

  That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then

  A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon.

  PHOEBE Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile108?

  SILVIUS Not very well, but I have met him oft,

  And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds110

  That the old carlot111 once was master of.

  PHOEBE Think not I love him, though I ask for him:

  'Tis but a peevish113 boy, yet he talks well.

  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'll make a proper man. The best thing in him

  Is his complexion119. 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 'tis well.

  There was a pretty redness in his lip,

  A little riper and more lusty124 red

  Than that mixed in his cheek. 'Twas just the difference

  Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask126.

  There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him

  In parcels128 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

  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 remembered134, scorned at me.

  I marvel why I answered not again135.

  But that's all one: omittance is no quittance136.

  I'll write to him a very taunting letter,

  And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius?

  SILVIUS Phoebe, with all my heart.

  PHOEBE I'll write it straight140:

  The matter's in my head and in my heart.

  I will be bitter with him and passing142 short.

  Go with me, Silvius.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 1

  running scene 9 continues

  Enter Rosalind, and Celia and Jaques

  JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted

  with thee.

  ROSALIND They say you are a melancholy fellow.

  JAQUES I am so. I do love it better than laughing.

  ROSALIND Those that are in extremity of either are abominable

  fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure6

  worse than drunkards.

  JAQUES Why, 'tis good to be sad8 and say nothing.

  ROSALIND Why then, 'tis good to be a post9.

  JAQUES I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is

  emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical11, nor the

  courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is

  ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic13, nor the lady's,

  which is nice14, nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a

  melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples15,

  extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry16

  contemplation of my travels, in which my often17 rumination

  wraps me in a most humorous18 sadness.

  ROSALIND A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be

  sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's;

  then to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich

  eyes and poor hands.

  JAQUES Yes, I have gained my experience.

  Enter Orlando

  ROSALIND And your experience makes you sad: I had rather

  have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me

  sad, and to travel26 for it too.

  ORLANDO Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!

  JAQUES Nay, then, God buy you, an28 you talk in blank verse.

  [Exit]

  ROSALIND Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp29 and wear

  strange suits, disable30 all the benefits of your own country, be

  out of love with your nativity31, and almost chide God for

  making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think

  you have swam33 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.

  ORLANDO My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my

  promise.

  ROSALIND Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide

  a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the

  thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be

  said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o'th'shoulder41, but

  I'll warrant him heart-whole42.

  ORLANDO Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

  ROSALIND Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I

  had as lief be wooed of a snail.

  ORLANDO Of a snail?

  ROSALIND Ay, of a snail, for though he comes slowly, he carries

  his house on his head; a better jointure48, I think, than you

  make a woman. Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

  ORLANDO What's that?

  ROSALIND Why, horns, which such as you are fain51 to be

  beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his52

  fortune and prevents the slander53 of his wife.

  ORLANDO Virtue is no horn-maker, and my Rosalind is

  virtuous.

  ROSALIND And I am your Rosalind.

  CELIA It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind

  of a better leer58 than you.

  ROSALIND Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday59

  humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to

  me now, an I were your very61 very Rosalind?

  ORLANDO I would kiss before I spoke.

  ROSALIND Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were

  gravelled64 for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss.

  Very good orators, when they are out65, they will spit. And for

  lovers lacking -- God warn us! -- matter, the cleanliest shift66

  is to kiss.

  ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied?

  ROSALIND Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new

  matter.

  ORLANDO Who could be out71, being before his beloved mistress?

  ROSALIND Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I

  should think my honest
y ranker73 than my wit.

  ORLANDO What, of my suit74?

  ROSALIND Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.

  Am not I your Rosalind?

  ORLANDO I take some joy to say you are, because I would be

  talking of her.

  ROSALIND Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.

  ORLANDO Then, in mine own person, I die.

  ROSALIND No, faith, die by attorney81. The poor world is almost

  six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any

  man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus83

  had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club, yet he did

  what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns85 of

  love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year though86

  Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot mid-

  summer 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 chroniclers of that age found it90

  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.

  ORLANDO I would not have my right94 Rosalind of this mind, for

  I protest her frown might kill me.

  ROSALIND By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I

  will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on97 disposition. And

  ask me what you will, I will grant it.

  ORLANDO Then love me, Rosalind.

  ROSALIND Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays100 and all.

  ORLANDO And wilt thou have me?

  ROSALIND Ay, and twenty102 such.

  ORLANDO What sayest thou?

  ROSALIND Are you not good?

  ORLANDO I hope so.

  ROSALIND Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?

  Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me

  your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?

  ORLANDO Pray thee marry us.

  CELIA I cannot say the words.

  ROSALIND You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando --'

  CELIA Go to112. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?

  ORLANDO I will.

  ROSALIND Ay, but when?

  ORLANDO Why now, as fast115 as she can marry us.

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

  ORLANDO I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

  ROSALIND I might ask you for your commission118, but I do take

  thee, Orlando, for my husband. There's a girl goes before the119

  priest, and certainly a woman's thought runs before her

  actions.

  ORLANDO So do all thoughts: they are winged.

  ROSALIND Now tell me how long you would have her after you

  have possessed124 her.

  ORLANDO Forever and a day.

  ROSALIND Say 'a day', without the 'ever'. No, no, Orlando.

  Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

  Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes

  when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a

  Barbary cock-pigeon130 over his hen, more clamorous than a

  parrot against rain, more new-fangled131 than an ape, more