As You Like It
Act 3, Scene 2
The Forest of Arden.
- Enter Orlando with a paper.
Orlando2 - 11
- 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’ll 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.
- Enter Corin and Clown (Touchstone).
- And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone?
Touchstone15 - 23
- 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 vild 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 humor well; but as there is
- no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast
- any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
Corin24 - 30
- No more but that I know the more one sickens 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 learn’d no wit by nature, nor art, may complain
- of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.
Touchstone31 - 32
- Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court,
- No, truly.
- Then thou art damn’d.
- Nay, I hope.
Touchstone36 - 37
- Truly, thou art damn’d, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one
- For not being at court? Your reason.
Touchstone39 - 42
- Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw’st good
- manners; if thou never saw’st good manners, then thy manners
- must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation.
- Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.
Corin43 - 47
- Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the
- court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of
- the country is most mockable 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.
- Instance, briefly; come, instance.
Corin49 - 50
- Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells you
- know are greasy.
Touchstone51 - 53
- 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.
- Besides, our hands are hard.
Touchstone55 - 56
- Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more
- sounder instance, come.
Corin57 - 59
- And they are often tarr’d over with the surgery of our
- sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands
- are perfum’d with civet.
Touchstone60 - 63
- Most shallow man! Thou worm’s-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.
- You have too courtly a wit for me, I’ll rest.
Touchstone65 - 66
- Wilt thou rest damn’d? God help thee, shallow man! God make
- incision in thee, thou art raw.
Corin67 - 70
- Sir, I am a true laborer: 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.
Touchstone71 - 77
- That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the
- rams together, and to offer to get your living by the
- copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to
- betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old
- cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest
- not damn’d for this, the devil himself will have no
- shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape.
- Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother.
- Enter Rosalind with a paper, reading.
Rosalind80 - 87
- “From the east to western Inde,
- No jewel is like Rosalind.
- Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
- Through all the world bears Rosalind.
- All the pictures fairest lin’d
- Are but black to Rosalind.
- Let no face be kept in mind
- But the fair of Rosalind.”
Touchstone88 - 90
- I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers
- and sleeping-hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s
- rank to market.
- Out, fool!
Touchstone92 - 106
- 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.
- Wint’red garments must be lin’d,
- 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?
- Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.
- Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Rosalind109 - 112
- I’ll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a
- medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country;
- for you’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the
- right virtue of the medlar.
Touchstone113 - 114
- You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest
- Enter Celia with a writing.
Rosalind116 - 117
- Here comes my sister reading, stand aside.
Celia118 - 148
- “Why should this a desert be?
- For it is unpeopled? No!
- Tongues I’ll 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;
- 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 charg’d
- That one body should be fill’d
- With all graces wide-enlarg’d.
- Nature presently distill’d
- Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,
- Cleopatra’s majesty,
- Atalanta’s better part,
- Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
- Thus Rosalind of many parts
- By heavenly synod was devis’d,
- Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
- To have the touches dearest priz’d.
- Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
- And I to live and die her slave.”
Rosalind149 - 151
- O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you
- wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, “Have
- patience, good people!”
Celia152 - 153
- How now? Back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. Go with
- him, sirrah.
Touchstone154 - 155
- Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable retreat, though not
- with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
- Exit with Corin.
- Didst thou hear these verses?
Rosalind158 - 159
- O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had
- in them more feet than the verses would bear.
- That’s no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
Rosalind161 - 162
- Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves
- without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
Celia163 - 164
- But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be
- hang’d and carv’d upon these trees?
Rosalind165 - 168
- 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 berhym’d since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat,
- which I can hardly remember.
- Trow you who hath done this?
- Is it a man?
Celia171 - 172
- And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you
- I prithee who?
Celia174 - 175
- O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but
- mountains may be remov’d with earthquakes, and so encounter.
- Nay, but who is it?
- Is it possible?
Rosalind178 - 179
- Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me
- who it is.
Celia180 - 181
- O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And
- yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping!
Rosalind182 - 189
- Good my complexion, dost thou think, though I am caparison’d
- 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 conceal’d man
- out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth’d
- bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee
- take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.
- So you may put a man in your belly.
Rosalind191 - 192
- Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth
- a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
- Nay, he hath but a little beard.
Rosalind194 - 196
- 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.
Celia197 - 198
- It is young Orlando, that tripp’d up the wrestler’s heels,
- and your heart, both in an instant.
Rosalind199 - 200
- Nay, but the devil take mocking. Speak sad brow and true
- I’ faith, coz, ’tis he.
Rosalind204 - 208
- Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What
- did he when thou saw’st him? What said he? How look’d he?
- Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me?
- Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt
- thou see him again? Answer me in one word.
Celia209 - 211
- You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first; ’tis 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.
Rosalind212 - 213
- 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?
Celia214 - 217
- 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 dropp’d acorn.
- It may well be call’d Jove’s tree, when it drops such fruit.
- Give me audience, good madam.
- There lay he, stretch’d along, like a wounded knight.
Rosalind222 - 223
- Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the
Celia224 - 225
- Cry “holla” to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets
- unseasonably. He was furnish’d like a hunter.
- O ominous! He comes to kill my heart.
Celia227 - 228
- I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring’st me out
- of tune.
Rosalind229 - 230
- Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak.
- Sweet, say on.
- Enter Orlando and Jaques.
- You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?
- ’Tis he. Slink by, and note him.
Jaques234 - 235
- I thank you for your company, but, good faith, I had as lief
- have been myself alone.
Orlando236 - 237
- And so had I; but yet for fashion sake I thank you too for
- your society.
- God buy you, let’s meet as little as we can.
- I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaques240 - 241
- I pray you mar no more trees with writing love-songs in
- their barks.
Orlando242 - 243
- I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them
- Rosalind is your love’s name?
- Yes, just.
- I do not like her name.
Orlando247 - 248
- There was no thought of pleasing you when she was
- What stature is she of?
- Just as high as my heart.
Jaques251 - 252
- You are full of pretty answers; have you not been acquainted
- with goldsmiths’ wives, and conn’d them out of rings?
Orlando253 - 254
- Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence
- you have studied your questions.
Jaques255 - 257
- You have a nimble wit; I think ’twas 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.
Orlando258 - 259
- I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against
- whom I know most faults.
- The worst fault you have is to be in love.
Orlando261 - 262
- ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am
- weary of you.
- By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.
Orlando264 - 265
- He is drown’d in the brook; look but in, and you shall see
- There I shall see mine own figure.
- Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
- I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love.
Orlando269 - 270
- I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur
- Exit Jaques.
Rosalind272 - 274
- 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?
- Very well. What would you?
- I pray you, what is’t a’ clock?
Orlando277 - 278
- You should ask me what time o’ day; there’s no clock in the
Rosalind279 - 281
- Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing
- every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy
- foot of Time as well as a clock.
Orlando282 - 283
- And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been as
Rosalind284 - 287
- By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers
- persons. I’ll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time
- trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands
- still withal.
- I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
Rosalind289 - 292
- Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract
- of her marriage and the day it is solemniz’d. If the interim
- be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that it seems the
- length of seven year.
- Who ambles Time withal?
Rosalind294 - 299
- 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 burden of lean and wasteful learning, the
- other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time
- ambles withal.
- Who doth he gallop withal?
Rosalind301 - 302
- With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as
- foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
- Who stays it still withal?
Rosalind304 - 305
- With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term
- and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.
- Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Rosalind307 - 308
- With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the
- forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
- Are you native of this place?
- As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orlando311 - 312
- Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so
- remov’d a dwelling.
Rosalind313 - 319
- 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 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 touch’d with so
- many giddy offenses as he hath generally tax’d their whole
- sex withal.
Orlando320 - 321
- Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to
- the charge of women?
Rosalind322 - 324
- There were none principal, they were all like one another as
- halfpence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his
- fellow-fault came to match it.
- I prithee recount some of them.
Rosalind326 - 332
- 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 hawthorns, 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.
Orlando333 - 334
- I am he that is so love-shak’d, I pray you tell me your
Rosalind335 - 337
- 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.
- What were his marks?
Rosalind339 - 348
- A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken,
- which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have
- not; a beard neglected, which you have not (but I pardon you
- for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger
- brother’s revenue); then your hose should be ungarter’d,
- your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton’d, your shoe
- untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless
- desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather
- point-device in your accoustrements, as loving yourself,
- than seeming the lover of any other.
- Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
Rosalind350 - 355
- Me believe it? You may as soon make her 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 admir’d?
Orlando356 - 357
- I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am
- that he, that unfortunate he.
- But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?
- Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
Rosalind360 - 364
- Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deserves as well a
- dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they
- are not so punish’d and cur’d is, that the lunacy is so
- ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess
- curing it by counsel.
- Did you ever cure any so?
Rosalind366 - 380
- 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, changeable, 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 color; would now like him, now loathe him;
- then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him,
- then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humor
- of love to a living humor of madness, which was, to forswear
- the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely
- monastic. And thus I cur’d 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.
- I would not be cur’d, youth.
Rosalind382 - 383
- I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and
- come every day to my cote and woo me.
- Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.
Rosalind385 - 386
- Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and by the way, you
- shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
- With all my heart, good youth.
- Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go?