The forest.

We shall find a time, Audrey; patience,
gentle Audrey.

Faith, the priest was good enough,
for all the old gentleman's saying.

A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey,
a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a
youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest
in me in the world: here comes the (10)
man you mean.

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.

Good even, Audrey.

God ye good even, William.

And good even to you, sir.

Good even, gentle friend. Cover
thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be (20)
covered. How old are you, friend?

Five and twenty, sir.

A ripe age. Is thy name William?

William, sir.

A fair name. Wast born i' the forest

Ay, sir, I thank God.

'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich?

Faith, sir, so so.

'So so' is good, very good, very
excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so (31)
so. Art thou wise?

Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

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 (40)
do love this maid?

I do, sir.

Give me your hand. Art thou learned?

No, sir.

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. (50)

Which he, sir?

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.

Do, good William.

God rest you merry, sir. [Exit.
Enter CORIN.

Our master and mistress seeks you;
come, away, away!

Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend,
I attend. [Exeunt.


The forest.

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?

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.

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. (20)

God save you, brother.

And you, fair sister. [Exit.

O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves
me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf!

It is my arm.

I thought thy heart had been wounded
with the claws of a lion.

Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.

Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited
to swoon when he showed me your (30)

Ay, and greater wonders than that.

O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis
true: there was never any thing so sudden but
the fight of two rams and Cæsar'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.

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.

Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve
your turn for Rosalind?

I can live no longer by thinking.

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 labor 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 to-morrow
human as she is and without any danger.

Speakest thou in sober meanings?

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.

Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,

To show the letter that I writ to you.

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.

Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.

It is to be all made of sighs and tears; (91)

And so am I for Phebe.

And I for Ganymede.

And I for Rosalind.

And I for no woman.

It is to be all made of faith and service;

And so am I for Phebe.

And I for Ganymede.

And I for Rosalind.

And I for no woman. (100)

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.

And so am I for Ganymede.

And so am I for Rosalind.

And so am I for no woman.

If this be so, why blame you me to (110)
love you?

If this be so, why blame you me to
love you?

If this be so, why blame you me to
love you?

Who do you speak to, 'Why blame
you me to love you?'

To her that is not here, nor doth not

Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like
the howling of Irish wolves against the moon.
[To Sil.] I will help you, if I can: [To Phe.]
I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet
me all together. [To Phe.] I will marry you,
if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married tomorrow:
[To Orl.] I will satisfy you, if ever
I satisfied man, and you shall be married tomorrow:
[To Sil.] I will content you, if
what pleases you contents you, and you shall be
married to-morrow. [To Orl.] As you love
Rosalind, meet: [To Sil.] as you love Phebe,
meet: and as I love no woman, I'll meet. So (131)
fare you well: I have left you commands.

I'll not fail, if I live.

Nor I.

Nor I. [Exeunt.


The forest.

To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey;
to-morrow will we be married.

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.

First Page.
Well met, honest gentleman.

By my troth, well met. Come, sit, (9)
sit, and a song.

Sec. 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

Sec. Page.
I'faith, i'faith; and both in a
tune, like two gipsies on a horse.

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, (21)

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 (30)

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.

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.

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.


The forest.

Duke S.
Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy

Can do all this that he hath promised?

I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not;

As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE.

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.

And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? (10)

That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.

You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing?

That will I, should I die the hour after.

But if you do refuse to marry me,

You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?

So is the bargain.

You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will?

Though to have her and death were both one thing.

I have promised to make all this matter even. (19)

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 S.
I do remember in this shepherd boy

Some lively touches of my daughter's favor.

My lord, the first time that I ever saw him

Methought he was a brother to your daughter: (30)

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.

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.

Salutation and greeting to you all!

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.

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. (50)

And how was that ta'en up?

Faith, we met, and found the quarrel
was upon the seventh cause.

How seventh cause? Good my lord,
like this fellow.

Duke S.
I like him very well.

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-favored
thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humor 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

According to the fool's bolt, sir,
and such dulcet diseases.

But, for the seventh cause; how did (70)
you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

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 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 Reproof Valiant.
If again 'it was not well cut,' he would say, I
lied: this is called the Counter-check Quarrel-
some: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and
the Lie Direct.

And how oft did you say his beard
was not well cut?

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.

Can you nominate in order now the
degrees of the lie?

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 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 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 peace-
maker; much virtue in If.

Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's (110)
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. Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA. Still Music.

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 (121)

Whose heart within his bosom is.

[To duke]
To you I give myself, for I am yours.

[To Orl.]
To you I give myself, for I am yours.

Duke S.
If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.

If sight and shape be true,

Why then, my love adieu!

I'll have no father, if you be not he:

I'll have no husband, if you be not he: (130)

Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.

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, (140)

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.

Wedding is great Juno's crown:

O blessed bond of board and bed!

'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honored:

Honor, high honor and renown,

To Hymen, god of every town!

Duke S.
O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!

Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree.

I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;

Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 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, (170)

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, (181)

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.

Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,

The duke hath put on a religious life

And thrown into neglect the pompous court? (189)

Jaq. de B.
He hath.

To him will I: out of these convertites

There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.

[To duke]
You to your former honor I bequeath;

Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:

[To Orl.]
You to a love that your true faith doth merit:

[To Oil.]
You to your land and love and great allies:

[To Sil.]
You to a long and well-deserved bed:

[To Touch.]
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. (200)

Duke S.
Stay, Jaques, stay.

To see no pastime I: what you would have

I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit.

Duke S.
Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,

A s we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance.


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.

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