CELIA Is it possible173?
ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence174,
tell me who it is.
CELIA O wonderful176, wonderful, and most wonderful
wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of177
all whooping!
ROSALIND Good my complexion!179 Dost thou think, though I am
caparisoned180 like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my
disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of181
discovery. I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace182.
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.
CELIA So you may put a man in your belly188.
ROSALIND Is he of God's making189? What manner of man? Is his
head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard.
ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be
thankful: let me stay193 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.
ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow197
and true maid.
CELIA I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
ROSALIND Orlando?
CELIA Orlando.
ROSALIND Alas the day! What shall I do with my doublet and
hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he?
How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he204 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.
CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua's208 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 catechism210.
ROSALIND 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 the214
propositions of a lover, but take a taste of my finding him,
and relish it with good observance216. I found him under a tree,
like a dropped acorn.
ROSALIND It may well be called Jove's tree218, when it drops forth
Aside?
such fruit.
CELIA Give me audience220, good madam.
ROSALIND Proceed.
CELIA There lay he, stretched along222, like a wounded knight.
ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes
the ground.
CELIA Cry 'holla' to the tongue, I prithee. It curvets225
unseasonably. He was furnished226 like a hunter.
ROSALIND O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart227.
CELIA I would sing my song without a burden228. Thou
bringest me out of tune.
ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I
must speak. Sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando and Jaques
CELIA You bring me out. Soft!232 Comes he not here?
They stand aside
ROSALIND 'Tis he. Slink by, and note him.
To Orlando
JAQUES I thank you for your company, but, good
faith, I had as lief235 have been myself alone.
ORLANDO And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you
too for your society237.
JAQUES God buy you. Let's meet as little as we can.
ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers.
JAQUES I pray you mar no more trees with writing love—
songs in their barks.
ORLANDO I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading
them ill-favouredly243.
JAQUES Rosalind is your love's name?
ORLANDO Yes, just245.
JAQUES I do not like her name.
ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when she
was christened.
JAQUES What stature is she of?
ORLANDO Just as high as my heart.
JAQUES You are full of pretty251 answers. Have you not been
acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned252 them out of
rings253?
ORLANDO Not so, but I answer you right painted cloth254, from
whence you have studied your questions255.
JAQUES You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of
Atalanta's257 heels. Will you sit down with me? And we two will
rail against our mistress the world and all our misery.
ORLANDO I will chide no breather259 in the world but myself,
against whom I know most faults.
JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love.
ORLANDO 'Tis a fault I will not change262 for your best virtue. I
am weary of you.
JAQUES By my troth264, I was seeking for a fool when I found
you.
ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you
shall see him.
JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure268.
ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher269.
JAQUES I'll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior
Love.
ORLANDO I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur
Melancholy.
[Exit Jaques]
Aside to Celia
ROSALIND I will speak to him like a saucy lackey274,
and under that habit play the knave275 with him.-- Do you
hear, forester?
ORLANDO Very well. What would you?
ROSALIND I pray you, what is't o'clock?
ORLANDO You should ask me what time o'day: there's no clock
in the forest.
ROSALIND Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing
every minute and groaning every hour would detect282 the lazy
foot of time as well as a clock.
ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that
been as proper?
ROSALIND By no means, sir; time travels in divers286 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.
ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
ROSALIND Marry, he trots hard291 with a young maid between
the contract of her marriage292 and the day it is solemnized. If
the interim be but a se'nnight293, time's pace is so hard that it
seems the length of seven year.
ORLANDO Who ambles time withal?
ROSALIND 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 wasteful299
learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious300
penury. These time ambles withal.
ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal?
ROSALIND With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as
softly304 as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
ORLANDO Who stays it still withal?
ROSALIND With lawyers in the vacation306, for they sleep between
term307 and term, and then they perceive not how time moves.
ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth?
ROSALIND With this shepherdess, my sister, here
in the skirts309 of
the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
ORLANDO Are you native of this place?
ROSALIND As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled312.
ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you could
purchase in so removed314 a dwelling.
ROSALIND I have been told so of many: but indeed an old
religious316 uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his
youth an inland man, one that knew courtship317 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 touched319
with so many giddy offences as he hath generally320 taxed their
whole sex withal.
ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils that he
laid to the charge of women?
ROSALIND There were none principal. They were all like one
another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming
monstrous till his326 fellow fault came to match it.
ORLANDO I prithee recount some of them.
ROSALIND No, I will not cast away my physic328 but on those that
are sick. There is a man haunts329 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-332
monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to
have the quotidian334 of love upon him.
your remedy.
ROSALIND There is none of my uncle's marks337 upon you: he
taught me how to know a man in love, in which cage of338
rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
ORLANDO What were his marks?
ROSALIND A lean cheek, which you have not: a blue341 eye and
sunken, which you have not: an unquestionable342 spirit, which
you have not: a beard neglected, which you have not -- but
I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is344
a younger brother's revenue. Then your hose should be
ungartered, your bonnet unbanded346, your sleeve unbuttoned,
your shoe untied and everything about you demonstrating a
careless desolation: but you are no such man: you are rather
point-device in your accoutrements, as349 loving yourself than
seeming the lover of any other.
ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
ROSALIND Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you
love believe it, which I warrant she is apter353 to do than to
confess she does: that is one of the points in the which
women still355 give the lie to their consciences. But, in good
sooth356, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein
Rosalind is so admired?
ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
ROSALIND But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?
ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
ROSALIND Love is merely362 a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as
well a dark house and a whip as madmen do363: 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 profess365
curing it by counsel.
ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so?
ROSALIND 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 moonish370 youth, grieve, be
effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical371,
apish372, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for
every passion something and for no passion truly anything,
as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour374:
would now like him, now loathe him: then entertain375 him,
then forswear him: now weep for him, then spit at him; that376
I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living377
humour of madness, which was, to forswear the full stream
of the world, and to live in a nook merely379 monastic. And thus
I cured him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your
liver as clean as a sound381 sheep's heart, that there shall not be
one spot of love in't.
ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth.
ROSALIND I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind
and come every day to my cote385 and woo me.
ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.
ROSALIND Go with me to it and I'll show it you, and by387 the way
you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth.
ROSALIND Nay, you must call me Rosalind.-- Come, sister, will
you go?
Exeunt
Act 3 Scene 3
running scene 9 continues
Enter Clown [Touchstone], Audrey and Jaques [behind]
TOUCHSTONE Come apace1, good Audrey. I will fetch up your
goats, Audrey. And how2, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my
simple feature3 content you?
AUDREY Your features? Lord warrant4 us! What features?
TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most
capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.6
Aside
JAQUES O, knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove7
in a thatched house.
TOUCHSTONE When a man's verses cannot be understood,
nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward10 child,
understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great11
reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made
thee poetical.
AUDREY I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest14 in deed
and word? Is it a true thing?
TOUCHSTONE No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most
feigning17, and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear
in poetry may be said as lovers, they do feign.
AUDREY Do you wish then that the gods had made me
poetical?
TOUCHSTONE I do truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest21.
Now if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst
AUDREY Would you not have me honest?
TOUCHSTONE No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured25, for
honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
Aside
JAQUES A material27 fool!
AUDREY Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods
make me honest.
TOUCHSTONE Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut30
were to put good meat into an unclean dish31.
AUDREY I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
TOUCHSTONE Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness;
sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will
marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver35
Martext, the vicar of the next36 village, who hath promised to
meet me in this place of the forest and to couple37 us.
Aside
JAQUES I would fain see this meeting38.
AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy!
TOUCHSTONE Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart,
stagger41 in this attempt, for here we have no tem
ple but the
wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though42?
Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary43. It is said,
'many a man knows no end of his goods44'. Right. Many a
man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that
is the dowry of his wife: 'tis none of his own getting. Horns?
Even so. Poor men alone? No, no: the noblest deer47 hath them
as huge as the rascal48. Is the single man therefore blessed?
No: as a walled49 town is more worthier than a village, so is
the forehead of a married man more honourable than the
bare brow of a bachelor. And by how much defence51 is better
than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to52
want.
Enter Sir Oliver Martext
Here comes Sir Oliver.-- Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met.
Will you dispatch us55 here under this tree, or shall we go with
you to your chapel?
SIR OLIVER Is there none here to give the woman?
TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on58 gift of any man.
SIR OLIVER Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not
lawful.
Steps forward
JAQUES Proceed, proceed I'll give her.
TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Master What-ye-call't62. How do
you, sir? You are very well met. God 'ild you for your last63
company, I am very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand64 here,
sir. Nay, pray be covered65.
JAQUES Will you be married, motley?
TOUCHSTONE As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb67 and
the falcon her bells68, so man hath his desires, and as pigeons
bill, so wedlock would be nibbling69.
JAQUES 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 together as they join wainscot73, then
one of you will prove a shrunk panel and, like green74 timber,
warp75, warp.
Aside
TOUCHSTONE I am not in the mind but76 I were better to be
married of him than of another, for he is not like77 to marry
me well78, and not being well married, it will be a good excuse
for me hereafter to leave my wife.
JAQUES Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
TOUCHSTONE Come, sweet Audrey:
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry82.
Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not --
'O sweet Oliver, O brave84 Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee'
but --
'Wind87 away,
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee.'
SIR OLIVER 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical90 knave of them all
shall flout91 me out of my calling.
Exeunt [separately]
Act 3 Scene 4
running scene 9 continues
Enter Rosalind and Celia
ROSALIND 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.