| [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] | |
| TOUCHSTONE | We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. |
| AUDREY | Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old
gentleman's saying. |
| TOUCHSTONE | A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile
Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. |
| AUDREY | Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in
the world: here comes the man you mean. |
| TOUCHSTONE | It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my
troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. |
| [Enter WILLIAM] | |
| WILLIAM | Good even, Audrey. |
| AUDREY | God ye good even, William. |
| WILLIAM | And good even to you, sir. |
| TOUCHSTONE | Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy
head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? |
| WILLIAM | Five and twenty, sir. |
| TOUCHSTONE | A ripe age. Is thy name William? |
| WILLIAM | William, sir. |
| TOUCHSTONE | A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? |
| WILLIAM | Ay, sir, I thank God. |
| TOUCHSTONE | 'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich? |
| WILLIAM | Faith, sir, so so. |
| TOUCHSTONE | 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and
yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? |
| WILLIAM | Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. |
| TOUCHSTONE | Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying,
'The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid? |
| WILLIAM | I do, sir. |
| TOUCHSTONE | Give me your hand. Art thou learned? |
| WILLIAM | No, sir. |
| TOUCHSTONE | 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. |
| WILLIAM | Which he, sir? |
| TOUCHSTONE | He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you
clown, abandon,--which is in the vulgar leave,--the society,--which in the boorish is company,--of this female,--which in the common is woman; which together is, abandon the society 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'errun thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble and depart. |
| AUDREY | Do, good William. |
| WILLIAM | God rest you merry, sir. |
| [Exit] | |
| [Enter CORIN] | |
| CORIN | Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away! |
| TOUCHSTONE | Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER] | |
| ORLANDO | Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you
should like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? |
| OLIVER | Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the
poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with 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. |
| ORLANDO | 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] | |
| ROSALIND | God save you, brother. |
| OLIVER | And you, fair sister. |
| [Exit] | |
| ROSALIND | O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee
wear thy heart in a scarf! |
| ORLANDO | It is my arm. |
| ROSALIND | I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws
of a lion. |
| ORLANDO | Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. |
| ROSALIND | Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to
swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? |
| ORLANDO | Ay, and greater wonders than that. |
| ROSALIND | O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis 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 but they asked one another 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, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs cannot part them. |
| ORLANDO | 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. |
| ROSALIND | Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? |
| ORLANDO | I can live no longer by thinking. |
| ROSALIND | 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 esteem 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 things: I have, since I was three year old, conversed 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 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 tomorrow human as she is and without any danger. |
| ORLANDO | Speakest thou in sober meanings? |
| ROSALIND | 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. | |
| PHEBE | Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,
To show the letter that I writ to you. |
| ROSALIND | 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. |
| PHEBE | Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. |
| SILVIUS | It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
And so am I for Phebe. |
| PHEBE | And I for Ganymede. |
| ORLANDO | And I for Rosalind. |
| ROSALIND | And I for no woman. |
| SILVIUS | It is to be all made of faith and service;
And so am I for Phebe. |
| PHEBE | And I for Ganymede. |
| ORLANDO | And I for Rosalind. |
| ROSALIND | And I for no woman. |
| SILVIUS | 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. |
| PHEBE | And so am I for Ganymede. |
| ORLANDO | And so am I for Rosalind. |
| ROSALIND | And so am I for no woman. |
| PHEBE | If this be so, why blame you me to love you? |
| SILVIUS | If this be so, why blame you me to love you? |
| ORLANDO | If this be so, why blame you me to love you? |
| ROSALIND | Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you me to love you?' |
| ORLANDO | To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. |
| ROSALIND | Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling
of Irish wolves against the moon. |
| [To 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'll be
married to-morrow: | |
| [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, meet: | |
| [To SILVIUS] | |
| as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman,
I'll meet. So fare you well: I have left you commands. | |
| SILVIUS | I'll not fail, if I live. |
| PHEBE | Nor I. |
| ORLANDO | Nor I. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] | |
| TOUCHSTONE | To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will
we be married. |
| AUDREY | 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 comes two of the banished duke's pages. |
| [Enter two Pages] | |
| First Page | Well met, honest gentleman. |
| TOUCHSTONE | By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. |
| Second Page | We are for you: sit i' the middle. |
| First 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? |
| Second Page | I'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 In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: 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, &c. | |
| 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, &c. | |
| And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, &c. | |
| TOUCHSTONE | Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great
matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. |
| First Page | You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost not our time. |
| TOUCHSTONE | By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear
such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend your voices! Come, Audrey. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER,
and CELIA] | |
| DUKE SENIOR | Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised? |
| ORLANDO | I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not;
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. |
| [Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE] | |
| ROSALIND | Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here? |
| DUKE SENIOR | That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. |
| ROSALIND | And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? |
| ORLANDO | That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. |
| ROSALIND | You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? |
| PHEBE | That will I, should I die the hour after. |
| ROSALIND | But if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? |
| PHEBE | So is the bargain. |
| ROSALIND | You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? |
| SILVIUS | Though to have her and death were both one thing. |
| ROSALIND | 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'll marry me, Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her. If she refuse me: and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even. |
| [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] | |
| DUKE SENIOR | I do remember in this shepherd boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. |
| ORLANDO | 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, 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] | |
| JAQUES | 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. |
| TOUCHSTONE | Salutation and greeting to you all! |
| JAQUES | Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the
motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. |
| TOUCHSTONE | If any man doubt that, let him put me to my
purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered 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. |
| JAQUES | And how was that ta'en up? |
| TOUCHSTONE | Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the
seventh cause. |
| JAQUES | How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. |
| DUKE SENIOR | I like him very well. |
| TOUCHSTONE | 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 SENIOR | By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. |
| TOUCHSTONE | According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. |
| JAQUES | But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the
quarrel on the seventh cause? |
| TOUCHSTONE | 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 sent him word again 'it 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 judgment: this is called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. |
| JAQUES | And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? |
| TOUCHSTONE | I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial,
nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and parted. |
| JAQUES | Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? |
| TOUCHSTONE | 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 Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheque 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 justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If. |
| JAQUES | Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at
any thing and yet a fool. |
| DUKE SENIOR | He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under
the presentation of that he shoots his wit. |
| [Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA] | |
| [Still Music] | |
| HYMEN | Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even Atone together. 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 his bosom is. |
| ROSALIND | [To DUKE SENIOR] To you I give myself, for I am yours. |
| [To ORLANDO] | |
| To you I give myself, for I am yours. | |
| DUKE SENIOR | If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. |
| ORLANDO | If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. |
| PHEBE | If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love adieu! |
| ROSALIND | I'll have no father, if you be not he:
I'll have no husband, if you be not he: Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. |
| HYMEN | Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events: Here's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part: You and you are heart in heart You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord: 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. |
| SONG.
Wedding is great Juno's crown: O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town! | |
| DUKE SENIOR | O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!
Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. |
| PHEBE | I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. |
| [Enter JAQUES DE BOYS] | |
| JAQUES DE BOYS | 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 SENIOR | 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-fall'n dignity And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. |
| JAQUES | Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life And thrown into neglect the pompous court? |
| JAQUES DE BOYS | He hath. |
| JAQUES | To him will I : out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. |
| [To DUKE SENIOR] | |
| 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 victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: I am for other than for dancing measures. | |
| DUKE SENIOR | Stay, Jaques, stay. |
| JAQUES | To see no pastime I what you would have
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. |
| [Exit] | |
| DUKE SENIOR | Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,
As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. |
| [A dance] | |
| EPILOGUE | |
| ROSALIND | It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue;
but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis 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 am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll 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 pleased me, complexions that liked 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] |