couchbase 3.0.0.alpha.1-universal-darwin-19 → 3.0.0.alpha.2-universal-darwin-19

data/ext/third_party/snappy/testdata/asyoulik.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,4122 @@
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+	DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+DUKE SENIOR	living in banishment.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	his brother, an usurper of his dominions.
+
+
+AMIENS	|
+	|  lords attending on the banished duke.
+JAQUES	|
+
+
+LE BEAU	a courtier attending upon Frederick.
+
+CHARLES	wrestler to Frederick.
+
+
+OLIVER		|
+		|
+JAQUES (JAQUES DE BOYS:)  	|  sons of Sir Rowland de Boys.
+		|
+ORLANDO		|
+
+
+ADAM	|
+	|  servants to Oliver.
+DENNIS	|
+
+
+TOUCHSTONE	a clown.
+
+SIR OLIVER MARTEXT	a vicar.
+
+
+CORIN	|
+	|  shepherds.
+SILVIUS	|
+
+
+WILLIAM	a country fellow in love with Audrey.
+
+	A person representing HYMEN. (HYMEN:)
+
+ROSALIND	daughter to the banished duke.
+
+CELIA	daughter to Frederick.
+
+PHEBE	a shepherdess.
+
+AUDREY	a country wench.
+
+	Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.
+	(Forester:)
+	(A Lord:)
+	(First Lord:)
+	(Second Lord:)
+	(First Page:)
+	(Second Page:)
+
+
+SCENE	Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the
+	Forest of Arden.
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+
+SCENE I	Orchard of Oliver's house.
+
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM]
+
+ORLANDO	As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion
+	bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns,
+	and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his
+	blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my
+	sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and
+	report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part,
+	he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more
+	properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you
+	that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that
+	differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses
+	are bred better; for, besides that they are fair
+	with their feeding, they are taught their manage,
+	and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his
+	brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the
+	which his animals on his dunghills are as much
+	bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so
+	plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave
+	me his countenance seems to take from me: he lets
+	me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a
+	brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my
+	gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that
+	grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I
+	think is within me, begins to mutiny against this
+	servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I
+	know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
+
+ADAM	Yonder comes my master, your brother.
+
+ORLANDO	Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will
+	shake me up.
+
+	[Enter OLIVER]
+
+OLIVER	Now, sir! what make you here?
+
+ORLANDO	Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
+
+OLIVER	What mar you then, sir?
+
+ORLANDO	Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God
+	made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.
+
+OLIVER	Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.
+
+ORLANDO	Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them?
+	What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should
+	come to such penury?
+
+OLIVER	Know you where your are, sir?
+
+ORLANDO	O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.
+
+OLIVER	Know you before whom, sir?
+
+ORLANDO	Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know
+	you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle
+	condition of blood, you should so know me. The
+	courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that
+	you are the first-born; but the same tradition
+	takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers
+	betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as
+	you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is
+	nearer to his reverence.
+
+OLIVER	What, boy!
+
+ORLANDO	Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
+
+OLIVER	Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
+
+ORLANDO	I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir
+	Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice
+	a villain that says such a father begot villains.
+	Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand
+	from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy
+	tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.
+
+ADAM	Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's
+	remembrance, be at accord.
+
+OLIVER	Let me go, I say.
+
+ORLANDO	I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My
+	father charged you in his will to give me good
+	education: you have trained me like a peasant,
+	obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like
+	qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
+	me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow
+	me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or
+	give me the poor allottery my father left me by
+	testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.
+
+OLIVER	And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent?
+	Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled
+	with you; you shall have some part of your will: I
+	pray you, leave me.
+
+ORLANDO	I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.
+
+OLIVER	Get you with him, you old dog.
+
+ADAM	Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my
+	teeth in your service. God be with my old master!
+	he would not have spoke such a word.
+
+	[Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM]
+
+OLIVER	Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will
+	physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand
+	crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
+
+	[Enter DENNIS]
+
+DENNIS	Calls your worship?
+
+OLIVER	Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?
+
+DENNIS	So please you, he is here at the door and importunes
+	access to you.
+
+OLIVER	Call him in.
+
+	[Exit DENNIS]
+
+	'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
+
+	[Enter CHARLES]
+
+CHARLES	Good morrow to your worship.
+
+OLIVER	Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the
+	new court?
+
+CHARLES	There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news:
+	that is, the old duke is banished by his younger
+	brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords
+	have put themselves into voluntary exile with him,
+	whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke;
+	therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
+
+OLIVER	Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be
+	banished with her father?
+
+CHARLES	O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves
+	her, being ever from their cradles bred together,
+	that she would have followed her exile, or have died
+	to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no
+	less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and
+	never two ladies loved as they do.
+
+OLIVER	Where will the old duke live?
+
+CHARLES	They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and
+	a many merry men with him; and there they live like
+	the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young
+	gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time
+	carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
+
+OLIVER	What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?
+
+CHARLES	Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a
+	matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand
+	that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition
+	to come in disguised against me to try a fall.
+	To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that
+	escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him
+	well. Your brother is but young and tender; and,
+	for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I
+	must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore,
+	out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you
+	withal, that either you might stay him from his
+	intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall
+	run into, in that it is a thing of his own search
+	and altogether against my will.
+
+OLIVER	Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which
+	thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had
+	myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and
+	have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from
+	it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles:
+	it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full
+	of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's
+	good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against
+	me his natural brother: therefore use thy
+	discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck
+	as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if
+	thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not
+	mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise
+	against thee by poison, entrap thee by some
+	treacherous device and never leave thee till he
+	hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other;
+	for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak
+	it, there is not one so young and so villanous this
+	day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but
+	should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must
+	blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder.
+
+CHARLES	I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come
+	to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go
+	alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: and
+	so God keep your worship!
+
+OLIVER	Farewell, good Charles.
+
+	[Exit CHARLES]
+
+	Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see
+	an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why,
+	hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never
+	schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of
+	all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much
+	in the heart of the world, and especially of my own
+	people, who best know him, that I am altogether
+	misprised: but it shall not be so long; this
+	wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that
+	I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about.
+
+	[Exit]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+
+SCENE II	Lawn before the Duke's palace.
+
+
+	[Enter CELIA and ROSALIND]
+
+CELIA	I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
+
+ROSALIND	Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of;
+	and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could
+	teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
+	learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
+
+CELIA	Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight
+	that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father,
+	had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou
+	hadst been still with me, I could have taught my
+	love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou,
+	if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously
+	tempered as mine is to thee.
+
+ROSALIND	Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to
+	rejoice in yours.
+
+CELIA	You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is
+	like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt
+	be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy
+	father perforce, I will render thee again in
+	affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break
+	that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my
+	sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
+
+ROSALIND	From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let
+	me see; what think you of falling in love?
+
+CELIA	Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but
+	love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport
+	neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst
+	in honour come off again.
+
+ROSALIND	What shall be our sport, then?
+
+CELIA	Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from
+	her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
+
+ROSALIND	I would we could do so, for her benefits are
+	mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman
+	doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
+
+CELIA	'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce
+	makes honest, and those that she makes honest she
+	makes very ill-favouredly.
+
+ROSALIND	Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to
+	Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world,
+	not in the lineaments of Nature.
+
+	[Enter TOUCHSTONE]
+
+CELIA	No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she
+	not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature
+	hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not
+	Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?
+
+ROSALIND	Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when
+	Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of
+	Nature's wit.
+
+CELIA	Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but
+	Nature's; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull
+	to reason of such goddesses and hath sent this
+	natural for our whetstone; for always the dulness of
+	the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now,
+	wit! whither wander you?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Mistress, you must come away to your father.
+
+CELIA	Were you made the messenger?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you.
+
+ROSALIND	Where learned you that oath, fool?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they
+	were good pancakes and swore by his honour the
+	mustard was naught: now I'll stand to it, the
+	pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and
+	yet was not the knight forsworn.
+
+CELIA	How prove you that, in the great heap of your
+	knowledge?
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and
+	swear by your beards that I am a knave.
+
+CELIA	By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you
+	swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no
+	more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he
+	never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away
+	before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
+
+CELIA	Prithee, who is't that thou meanest?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
+
+CELIA	My father's love is enough to honour him: enough!
+	speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation
+	one of these days.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what
+	wise men do foolishly.
+
+CELIA	By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little
+	wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery
+	that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes
+	Monsieur Le Beau.
+
+ROSALIND	With his mouth full of news.
+
+CELIA	Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.
+
+ROSALIND	Then shall we be news-crammed.
+
+CELIA	All the better; we shall be the more marketable.
+
+	[Enter LE BEAU]
+
+	Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news?
+
+LE BEAU	Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
+
+CELIA	Sport! of what colour?
+
+LE BEAU	What colour, madam! how shall I answer you?
+
+ROSALIND	As wit and fortune will.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Or as the Destinies decree.
+
+CELIA	Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Nay, if I keep not my rank,--
+
+ROSALIND	Thou losest thy old smell.
+
+LE BEAU	You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good
+	wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
+
+ROSALIND	You tell us the manner of the wrestling.
+
+LE BEAU	I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please
+	your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is
+	yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming
+	to perform it.
+
+CELIA	Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
+
+LE BEAU	There comes an old man and his three sons,--
+
+CELIA	I could match this beginning with an old tale.
+
+LE BEAU	Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
+
+ROSALIND	With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto all men
+	by these presents.'
+
+LE BEAU	The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the
+	duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him
+	and broke three of his ribs, that there is little
+	hope of life in him: so he served the second, and
+	so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man,
+	their father, making such pitiful dole over them
+	that all the beholders take his part with weeping.
+
+ROSALIND	Alas!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies
+	have lost?
+
+LE BEAU	Why, this that I speak of.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first
+	time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport
+	for ladies.
+
+CELIA	Or I, I promise thee.
+
+ROSALIND	But is there any else longs to see this broken music
+	in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon
+	rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?
+
+LE BEAU	You must, if you stay here; for here is the place
+	appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to
+	perform it.
+
+CELIA	Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.
+
+	[Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO,
+	CHARLES, and Attendants]
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his
+	own peril on his forwardness.
+
+ROSALIND	Is yonder the man?
+
+LE BEAU	Even he, madam.
+
+CELIA	Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither
+	to see the wrestling?
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	You will take little delight in it, I can tell you;
+	there is such odds in the man. In pity of the
+	challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he
+	will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if
+	you can move him.
+
+CELIA	Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Do so: I'll not be by.
+
+LE BEAU	Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.
+
+ORLANDO	I attend them with all respect and duty.
+
+ROSALIND	Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?
+
+ORLANDO	No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I
+	come but in, as others do, to try with him the
+	strength of my youth.
+
+CELIA	Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your
+	years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's
+	strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or
+	knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your
+	adventure would counsel you to a more equal
+	enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to
+	embrace your own safety and give over this attempt.
+
+ROSALIND	Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore
+	be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke
+	that the wrestling might not go forward.
+
+ORLANDO	I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
+	thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny
+	so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let
+	your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my
+	trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one
+	shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one
+	dead that was willing to be so: I shall do my
+	friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the
+	world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in
+	the world I fill up a place, which may be better
+	supplied when I have made it empty.
+
+ROSALIND	The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.
+
+CELIA	And mine, to eke out hers.
+
+ROSALIND	Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!
+
+CELIA	Your heart's desires be with you!
+
+CHARLES	Come, where is this young gallant that is so
+	desirous to lie with his mother earth?
+
+ORLANDO	Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	You shall try but one fall.
+
+CHARLES	No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him
+	to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him
+	from a first.
+
+ORLANDO	An you mean to mock me after, you should not have
+	mocked me before: but come your ways.
+
+ROSALIND	Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
+
+CELIA	I would I were invisible, to catch the strong
+	fellow by the leg.
+
+	[They wrestle]
+
+ROSALIND	O excellent young man!
+
+CELIA	If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who
+	should down.
+
+	[Shout. CHARLES is thrown]
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	No more, no more.
+
+ORLANDO	Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	How dost thou, Charles?
+
+LE BEAU	He cannot speak, my lord.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?
+
+ORLANDO	Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	I would thou hadst been son to some man else:
+	The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
+	But I did find him still mine enemy:
+	Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed,
+	Hadst thou descended from another house.
+	But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth:
+	I would thou hadst told me of another father.
+
+	[Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, train, and LE BEAU]
+
+CELIA	Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
+
+ORLANDO	I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
+	His youngest son; and would not change that calling,
+	To be adopted heir to Frederick.
+
+ROSALIND	My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
+	And all the world was of my father's mind:
+	Had I before known this young man his son,
+	I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
+	Ere he should thus have ventured.
+
+CELIA	Gentle cousin,
+	Let us go thank him and encourage him:
+	My father's rough and envious disposition
+	Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved:
+	If you do keep your promises in love
+	But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
+	Your mistress shall be happy.
+
+ROSALIND	Gentleman,
+
+	[Giving him a chain from her neck]
+
+	Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,
+	That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.
+	Shall we go, coz?
+
+CELIA	                  Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
+
+ORLANDO	Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts
+	Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
+	Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
+
+ROSALIND	He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes;
+	I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?
+	Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown
+	More than your enemies.
+
+CELIA	Will you go, coz?
+
+ROSALIND	Have with you. Fare you well.
+
+	[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA]
+
+ORLANDO	What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
+	I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
+	O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!
+	Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
+
+	[Re-enter LE BEAU]
+
+LE BEAU	Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
+	To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
+	High commendation, true applause and love,
+	Yet such is now the duke's condition
+	That he misconstrues all that you have done.
+	The duke is humorous; what he is indeed,
+	More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
+
+ORLANDO	I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this:
+	Which of the two was daughter of the duke
+	That here was at the wrestling?
+
+LE BEAU	Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
+	But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter
+	The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
+	And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
+	To keep his daughter company; whose loves
+	Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
+	But I can tell you that of late this duke
+	Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece,
+	Grounded upon no other argument
+	But that the people praise her for her virtues
+	And pity her for her good father's sake;
+	And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
+	Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well:
+	Hereafter, in a better world than this,
+	I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
+
+ORLANDO	I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
+
+	[Exit LE BEAU]
+
+	Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
+	From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother:
+	But heavenly Rosalind!
+
+	[Exit]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+
+SCENE III	A room in the palace.
+
+
+	[Enter CELIA and ROSALIND]
+
+CELIA	Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?
+
+ROSALIND	Not one to throw at a dog.
+
+CELIA	No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon
+	curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.
+
+ROSALIND	Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one
+	should be lamed with reasons and the other mad
+	without any.
+
+CELIA	But is all this for your father?
+
+ROSALIND	No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how
+	full of briers is this working-day world!
+
+CELIA	They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in
+	holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden
+	paths our very petticoats will catch them.
+
+ROSALIND	I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
+
+CELIA	Hem them away.
+
+ROSALIND	I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him.
+
+CELIA	Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
+
+ROSALIND	O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!
+
+CELIA	O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in
+	despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of
+	service, let us talk in good earnest: is it
+	possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so
+	strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?
+
+ROSALIND	The duke my father loved his father dearly.
+
+CELIA	Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son
+	dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him,
+	for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate
+	not Orlando.
+
+ROSALIND	No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
+
+CELIA	Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
+
+ROSALIND	Let me love him for that, and do you love him
+	because I do. Look, here comes the duke.
+
+CELIA	With his eyes full of anger.
+
+	[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords]
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste
+	And get you from our court.
+
+ROSALIND	Me, uncle?
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	You, cousin
+	Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
+	So near our public court as twenty miles,
+	Thou diest for it.
+
+ROSALIND	                  I do beseech your grace,
+	Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
+	If with myself I hold intelligence
+	Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,
+	If that I do not dream or be not frantic,--
+	As I do trust I am not--then, dear uncle,
+	Never so much as in a thought unborn
+	Did I offend your highness.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Thus do all traitors:
+	If their purgation did consist in words,
+	They are as innocent as grace itself:
+	Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
+
+ROSALIND	Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:
+	Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.
+
+ROSALIND	So was I when your highness took his dukedom;
+	So was I when your highness banish'd him:
+	Treason is not inherited, my lord;
+	Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
+	What's that to me? my father was no traitor:
+	Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
+	To think my poverty is treacherous.
+
+CELIA	Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,
+	Else had she with her father ranged along.
+
+CELIA	I did not then entreat to have her stay;
+	It was your pleasure and your own remorse:
+	I was too young that time to value her;
+	But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
+	Why so am I; we still have slept together,
+	Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together,
+	And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans,
+	Still we went coupled and inseparable.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
+	Her very silence and her patience
+	Speak to the people, and they pity her.
+	Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
+	And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
+	When she is gone. Then open not thy lips:
+	Firm and irrevocable is my doom
+	Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
+
+CELIA	Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege:
+	I cannot live out of her company.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself:
+	If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,
+	And in the greatness of my word, you die.
+
+	[Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords]
+
+CELIA	O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
+	Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
+	I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
+
+ROSALIND	I have more cause.
+
+CELIA	                  Thou hast not, cousin;
+	Prithee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
+	Hath banish'd me, his daughter?
+
+ROSALIND	That he hath not.
+
+CELIA	No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
+	Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
+	Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
+	No: let my father seek another heir.
+	Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
+	Whither to go and what to bear with us;
+	And do not seek to take your change upon you,
+	To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out;
+	For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
+	Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
+
+ROSALIND	Why, whither shall we go?
+
+CELIA	To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
+
+ROSALIND	Alas, what danger will it be to us,
+	Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
+	Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
+
+CELIA	I'll put myself in poor and mean attire
+	And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
+	The like do you: so shall we pass along
+	And never stir assailants.
+
+ROSALIND	Were it not better,
+	Because that I am more than common tall,
+	That I did suit me all points like a man?
+	A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
+	A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart
+	Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will--
+	We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
+	As many other mannish cowards have
+	That do outface it with their semblances.
+
+CELIA	What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
+
+ROSALIND	I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page;
+	And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
+	But what will you be call'd?
+
+CELIA	Something that hath a reference to my state
+	No longer Celia, but Aliena.
+
+ROSALIND	But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
+	The clownish fool out of your father's court?
+	Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
+
+CELIA	He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;
+	Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
+	And get our jewels and our wealth together,
+	Devise the fittest time and safest way
+	To hide us from pursuit that will be made
+	After my flight. Now go we in content
+	To liberty and not to banishment.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE I	The Forest of Arden.
+
+
+	[Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords,
+	like foresters]
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
+	Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
+	Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
+	More free from peril than the envious court?
+	Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
+	The seasons' difference, as the icy fang
+	And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
+	Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
+	Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
+	'This is no flattery: these are counsellors
+	That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
+	Sweet are the uses of adversity,
+	Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
+	Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
+	And this our life exempt from public haunt
+	Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
+	Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
+	I would not change it.
+
+AMIENS	Happy is your grace,
+	That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
+	Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
+	And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
+	Being native burghers of this desert city,
+	Should in their own confines with forked heads
+	Have their round haunches gored.
+
+First Lord	Indeed, my lord,
+	The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
+	And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
+	Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
+	To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
+	Did steal behind him as he lay along
+	Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
+	Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
+	To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
+	That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
+	Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
+	The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
+	That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
+	Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
+	Coursed one another down his innocent nose
+	In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool
+	Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
+	Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
+	Augmenting it with tears.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	But what said Jaques?
+	Did he not moralize this spectacle?
+
+First Lord	O, yes, into a thousand similes.
+	First, for his weeping into the needless stream;
+	'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament
+	As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
+	To that which had too much:' then, being there alone,
+	Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends,
+	''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
+	The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
+	Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
+	And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques,
+	'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
+	'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
+	Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'
+	Thus most invectively he pierceth through
+	The body of the country, city, court,
+	Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
+	Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse,
+	To fright the animals and to kill them up
+	In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	And did you leave him in this contemplation?
+
+Second Lord	We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
+	Upon the sobbing deer.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Show me the place:
+	I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
+	For then he's full of matter.
+
+First Lord	I'll bring you to him straight.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE II	A room in the palace.
+
+
+	[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords]
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Can it be possible that no man saw them?
+	It cannot be: some villains of my court
+	Are of consent and sufferance in this.
+
+First Lord	I cannot hear of any that did see her.
+	The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
+	Saw her abed, and in the morning early
+	They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
+
+Second Lord	My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
+	Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
+	Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
+	Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
+	Your daughter and her cousin much commend
+	The parts and graces of the wrestler
+	That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
+	And she believes, wherever they are gone,
+	That youth is surely in their company.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither;
+	If he be absent, bring his brother to me;
+	I'll make him find him: do this suddenly,
+	And let not search and inquisition quail
+	To bring again these foolish runaways.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE III	Before OLIVER'S house.
+
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting]
+
+ORLANDO	Who's there?
+
+ADAM	What, my young master? O, my gentle master!
+	O my sweet master! O you memory
+	Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
+	Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?
+	And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant?
+	Why would you be so fond to overcome
+	The bonny priser of the humorous duke?
+	Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
+	Know you not, master, to some kind of men
+	Their graces serve them but as enemies?
+	No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
+	Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
+	O, what a world is this, when what is comely
+	Envenoms him that bears it!
+
+ORLANDO	Why, what's the matter?
+
+ADAM	O unhappy youth!
+	Come not within these doors; within this roof
+	The enemy of all your graces lives:
+	Your brother--no, no brother; yet the son--
+	Yet not the son, I will not call him son
+	Of him I was about to call his father--
+	Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
+	To burn the lodging where you use to lie
+	And you within it: if he fail of that,
+	He will have other means to cut you off.
+	I overheard him and his practises.
+	This is no place; this house is but a butchery:
+	Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
+
+ORLANDO	Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
+
+ADAM	No matter whither, so you come not here.
+
+ORLANDO	What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
+	Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
+	A thievish living on the common road?
+	This I must do, or know not what to do:
+	Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
+	I rather will subject me to the malice
+	Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
+
+ADAM	But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
+	The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
+	Which I did store to be my foster-nurse
+	When service should in my old limbs lie lame
+	And unregarded age in corners thrown:
+	Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
+	Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
+	Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
+	And all this I give you. Let me be your servant:
+	Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
+	For in my youth I never did apply
+	Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
+	Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
+	The means of weakness and debility;
+	Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
+	Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
+	I'll do the service of a younger man
+	In all your business and necessities.
+
+ORLANDO	O good old man, how well in thee appears
+	The constant service of the antique world,
+	When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
+	Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
+	Where none will sweat but for promotion,
+	And having that, do choke their service up
+	Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
+	But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree,
+	That cannot so much as a blossom yield
+	In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry
+	But come thy ways; well go along together,
+	And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
+	We'll light upon some settled low content.
+
+ADAM	Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
+	To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
+	From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
+	Here lived I, but now live here no more.
+	At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
+	But at fourscore it is too late a week:
+	Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
+	Than to die well and not my master's debtor.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE IV	The Forest of Arden.
+
+
+	[Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena,
+	and TOUCHSTONE]
+
+ROSALIND	O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
+
+ROSALIND	I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's
+	apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort
+	the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show
+	itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage,
+	good Aliena!
+
+CELIA	I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear
+	you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you,
+	for I think you have no money in your purse.
+
+ROSALIND	Well, this is the forest of Arden.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was
+	at home, I was in a better place: but travellers
+	must be content.
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
+
+	[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS]
+
+	Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in
+	solemn talk.
+
+CORIN	That is the way to make her scorn you still.
+
+SILVIUS	O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
+
+CORIN	I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.
+
+SILVIUS	No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
+	Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
+	As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow:
+	But if thy love were ever like to mine--
+	As sure I think did never man love so--
+	How many actions most ridiculous
+	Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
+
+CORIN	Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
+
+SILVIUS	O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!
+	If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
+	That ever love did make thee run into,
+	Thou hast not loved:
+	Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
+	Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
+	Thou hast not loved:
+	Or if thou hast not broke from company
+	Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
+	Thou hast not loved.
+	O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
+
+	[Exit]
+
+ROSALIND	Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
+	I have by hard adventure found mine own.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke
+	my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for
+	coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the
+	kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her
+	pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the
+	wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took
+	two cods and, giving her them again, said with
+	weeping tears 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are
+	true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is
+	mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
+
+ROSALIND	Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I
+	break my shins against it.
+
+ROSALIND	Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
+	Is much upon my fashion.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
+
+CELIA	I pray you, one of you question yond man
+	If he for gold will give us any food:
+	I faint almost to death.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Holla, you clown!
+
+ROSALIND	Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman.
+
+CORIN	Who calls?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Your betters, sir.
+
+CORIN	                  Else are they very wretched.
+
+ROSALIND	Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
+
+CORIN	And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
+
+ROSALIND	I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
+	Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
+	Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:
+	Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd
+	And faints for succor.
+
+CORIN	Fair sir, I pity her
+	And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
+	My fortunes were more able to relieve her;
+	But I am shepherd to another man
+	And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:
+	My master is of churlish disposition
+	And little recks to find the way to heaven
+	By doing deeds of hospitality:
+	Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed
+	Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
+	By reason of his absence, there is nothing
+	That you will feed on; but what is, come see.
+	And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
+
+ROSALIND	What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
+
+CORIN	That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
+	That little cares for buying any thing.
+
+ROSALIND	I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
+	Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,
+	And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
+
+CELIA	And we will mend thy wages. I like this place.
+	And willingly could waste my time in it.
+
+CORIN	Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
+	Go with me: if you like upon report
+	The soil, the profit and this kind of life,
+	I will your very faithful feeder be
+	And buy it with your gold right suddenly.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE V	The Forest.
+
+
+	[Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others]
+	
+	SONG.
+AMIENS	Under the greenwood tree
+	Who loves to lie with me,
+	And turn his merry note
+	Unto the sweet bird's throat,
+	Come hither, come hither, come hither:
+	Here shall he see No enemy
+	But winter and rough weather.
+
+JAQUES	More, more, I prithee, more.
+
+AMIENS	It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
+
+JAQUES	I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck
+	melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
+	More, I prithee, more.
+
+AMIENS	My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you.
+
+JAQUES	I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to
+	sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos?
+
+AMIENS	What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
+
+JAQUES	Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me
+	nothing. Will you sing?
+
+AMIENS	More at your request than to please myself.
+
+JAQUES	Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you;
+	but that they call compliment is like the encounter
+	of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily,
+	methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me
+	the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will
+	not, hold your tongues.
+
+AMIENS	Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the
+	duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all
+	this day to look you.
+
+JAQUES	And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is
+	too disputable for my company: I think of as many
+	matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no
+	boast of them. Come, warble, come.
+	
+	SONG.
+	Who doth ambition shun
+
+	[All together here]
+
+	And loves to live i' the sun,
+	Seeking the food he eats
+	And pleased with what he gets,
+	Come hither, come hither, come hither:
+	Here shall he see No enemy
+	But winter and rough weather.
+
+JAQUES	I'll give you a verse to this note that I made
+	yesterday in despite of my invention.
+
+AMIENS	And I'll sing it.
+
+JAQUES	Thus it goes:--
+
+	If it do come to pass
+	That any man turn ass,
+	Leaving his wealth and ease,
+	A stubborn will to please,
+	Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
+	Here shall he see
+	Gross fools as he,
+	An if he will come to me.
+
+AMIENS	What's that 'ducdame'?
+
+JAQUES	'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a
+	circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll
+	rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
+
+AMIENS	And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared.
+
+	[Exeunt severally]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE VI	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM]
+
+ADAM	Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food!
+	Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell,
+	kind master.
+
+ORLANDO	Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live
+	a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little.
+	If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I
+	will either be food for it or bring it for food to
+	thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers.
+	For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at
+	the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently;
+	and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will
+	give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I
+	come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said!
+	thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly.
+	Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear
+	thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for
+	lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this
+	desert. Cheerly, good Adam!
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+
+SCENE VII	The forest.
+
+
+	[A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and
+	Lords like outlaws]
+
+DUKE SENIOR	I think he be transform'd into a beast;
+	For I can no where find him like a man.
+
+First Lord	My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
+	Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
+	We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
+	Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
+
+	[Enter JAQUES]
+
+First Lord	He saves my labour by his own approach.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
+	That your poor friends must woo your company?
+	What, you look merrily!
+
+JAQUES	A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
+	A motley fool; a miserable world!
+	As I do live by food, I met a fool
+	Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
+	And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
+	In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
+	'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
+	'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
+	And then he drew a dial from his poke,
+	And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
+	Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
+	Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
+	'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
+	And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
+	And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
+	And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
+	And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
+	The motley fool thus moral on the time,
+	My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
+	That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
+	And I did laugh sans intermission
+	An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
+	A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	What fool is this?
+
+JAQUES	O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
+	And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
+	They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
+	Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
+	After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
+	With observation, the which he vents
+	In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
+	I am ambitious for a motley coat.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Thou shalt have one.
+
+JAQUES	It is my only suit;
+	Provided that you weed your better judgments
+	Of all opinion that grows rank in them
+	That I am wise. I must have liberty
+	Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
+	To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
+	And they that are most galled with my folly,
+	They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
+	The 'why' is plain as way to parish church:
+	He that a fool doth very wisely hit
+	Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
+	Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
+	The wise man's folly is anatomized
+	Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
+	Invest me in my motley; give me leave
+	To speak my mind, and I will through and through
+	Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
+	If they will patiently receive my medicine.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
+
+JAQUES	What, for a counter, would I do but good?
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
+	For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
+	As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
+	And all the embossed sores and headed evils,
+	That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
+	Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
+
+JAQUES	Why, who cries out on pride,
+	That can therein tax any private party?
+	Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
+	Till that the weary very means do ebb?
+	What woman in the city do I name,
+	When that I say the city-woman bears
+	The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
+	Who can come in and say that I mean her,
+	When such a one as she such is her neighbour?
+	Or what is he of basest function
+	That says his bravery is not of my cost,
+	Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
+	His folly to the mettle of my speech?
+	There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein
+	My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
+	Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
+	Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
+	Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn]
+
+ORLANDO	Forbear, and eat no more.
+
+JAQUES	Why, I have eat none yet.
+
+ORLANDO	Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
+
+JAQUES	Of what kind should this cock come of?
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress,
+	Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
+	That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
+
+ORLANDO	You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point
+	Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
+	Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred
+	And know some nurture. But forbear, I say:
+	He dies that touches any of this fruit
+	Till I and my affairs are answered.
+
+JAQUES	An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	What would you have? Your gentleness shall force
+	More than your force move us to gentleness.
+
+ORLANDO	I almost die for food; and let me have it.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
+
+ORLANDO	Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
+	I thought that all things had been savage here;
+	And therefore put I on the countenance
+	Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
+	That in this desert inaccessible,
+	Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
+	Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time
+	If ever you have look'd on better days,
+	If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
+	If ever sat at any good man's feast,
+	If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
+	And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
+	Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
+	In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	True is it that we have seen better days,
+	And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church
+	And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes
+	Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
+	And therefore sit you down in gentleness
+	And take upon command what help we have
+	That to your wanting may be minister'd.
+
+ORLANDO	Then but forbear your food a little while,
+	Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
+	And give it food. There is an old poor man,
+	Who after me hath many a weary step
+	Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed,
+	Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
+	I will not touch a bit.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Go find him out,
+	And we will nothing waste till you return.
+
+ORLANDO	I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort!
+
+	[Exit]
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
+	This wide and universal theatre
+	Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
+	Wherein we play in.
+
+JAQUES	All the world's a stage,
+	And all the men and women merely players:
+	They have their exits and their entrances;
+	And one man in his time plays many parts,
+	His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
+	Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
+	And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
+	And shining morning face, creeping like snail
+	Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
+	Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
+	Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
+	Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
+	Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
+	Seeking the bubble reputation
+	Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
+	In fair round belly with good capon lined,
+	With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
+	Full of wise saws and modern instances;
+	And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
+	Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
+	With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
+	His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
+	For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
+	Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
+	And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
+	That ends this strange eventful history,
+	Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
+	Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
+
+	[Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM]
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen,
+	And let him feed.
+
+ORLANDO	I thank you most for him.
+
+ADAM	So had you need:
+	I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you
+	As yet, to question you about your fortunes.
+	Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.
+	
+	SONG.
+AMIENS	Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
+	Thou art not so unkind
+	As man's ingratitude;
+	Thy tooth is not so keen,
+	Because thou art not seen,
+	Although thy breath be rude.
+	Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
+	Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
+	Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
+	This life is most jolly.
+	Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
+	That dost not bite so nigh
+	As benefits forgot:
+	Though thou the waters warp,
+	Thy sting is not so sharp
+	As friend remember'd not.
+	Heigh-ho! sing, &c.
+
+DUKE SENIOR	If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
+	As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
+	And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
+	Most truly limn'd and living in your face,
+	Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke
+	That loved your father: the residue of your fortune,
+	Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
+	Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
+	Support him by the arm. Give me your hand,
+	And let me all your fortunes understand.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+
+SCENE I	A room in the palace.
+
+
+	[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER]
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
+	But were I not the better part made mercy,
+	I should not seek an absent argument
+	Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
+	Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
+	Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living
+	Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
+	To seek a living in our territory.
+	Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine
+	Worth seizure do we seize into our hands,
+	Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth
+	Of what we think against thee.
+
+OLIVER	O that your highness knew my heart in this!
+	I never loved my brother in my life.
+
+DUKE FREDERICK	More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;
+	And let my officers of such a nature
+	Make an extent upon his house and lands:
+	Do this expediently and turn him going.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+
+SCENE II	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO, with a paper]
+
+ORLANDO	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.
+
+	[Exit]
+
+	[Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE]
+
+CORIN	And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	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 vile 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
+	is it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well;
+	but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much
+	against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
+
+CORIN	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 learned no wit by nature nor art may
+	complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in
+	court, shepherd?
+
+CORIN	No, truly.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Then thou art damned.
+
+CORIN	Nay, I hope.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all
+	on one side.
+
+CORIN	For not being at court? Your reason.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest
+	good manners; if thou never sawest good manners,
+	then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is
+	sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous
+	state, shepherd.
+
+CORIN	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.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Instance, briefly; come, instance.
+
+CORIN	Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
+	fells, you know, are greasy.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	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.
+
+CORIN	Besides, our hands are hard.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again.
+	A more sounder instance, come.
+
+CORIN	And they are often tarred over with the surgery of
+	our sheep: and would you have us kiss tar? The
+	courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Most shallow man! thou worms-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.
+
+CORIN	You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man!
+	God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
+
+CORIN	Sir, I am a true labourer: 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.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	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
+	damned for this, the devil himself will have no
+	shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst
+	'scape.
+
+CORIN	Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.
+
+	[Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading]
+
+ROSALIND	     From the east to western Ind,
+	No jewel is like Rosalind.
+	Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
+	Through all the world bears Rosalind.
+	All the pictures fairest lined
+	Are but black to Rosalind.
+	Let no fair be kept in mind
+	But the fair of Rosalind.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	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.
+
+ROSALIND	Out, fool!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	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.
+	Winter garments must be lined,
+	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?
+
+ROSALIND	Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
+
+ROSALIND	I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it
+	with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit
+	i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half
+	ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the
+	forest judge.
+
+	[Enter CELIA, with a writing]
+
+ROSALIND	Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.
+
+CELIA	[Reads]
+
+	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 charged
+	That one body should be fill'd
+	With all graces wide-enlarged:
+	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 devised,
+	Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
+	To have the touches dearest prized.
+	Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
+	And I to live and die her slave.
+
+ROSALIND	O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love
+	have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never
+	cried 'Have patience, good people!'
+
+CELIA	How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little.
+	Go with him, sirrah.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat;
+	though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
+
+	[Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE]
+
+CELIA	Didst thou hear these verses?
+
+ROSALIND	O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of
+	them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.
+
+CELIA	That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear
+	themselves without the verse and therefore stood
+	lamely in the verse.
+
+CELIA	But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name
+	should be hanged and carved upon these trees?
+
+ROSALIND	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 be-rhymed since
+	Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I
+	can hardly remember.
+
+CELIA	Trow you who hath done this?
+
+ROSALIND	Is it a man?
+
+CELIA	And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck.
+	Change you colour?
+
+ROSALIND	I prithee, who?
+
+CELIA	O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to
+	meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes
+	and so encounter.
+
+ROSALIND	Nay, but who is it?
+
+CELIA	Is it possible?
+
+ROSALIND	Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence,
+	tell me who it is.
+
+CELIA	O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
+	wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that,
+	out of all hooping!
+
+ROSALIND	Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am
+	caparisoned 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 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
+	may drink thy tidings.
+
+CELIA	So you may put a man in your belly.
+
+ROSALIND	Is he of God's making? 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 stay 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 brow 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 sawest him? What said
+	he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes
+	him 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'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.
+
+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 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 dropped acorn.
+
+ROSALIND	It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops
+	forth such fruit.
+
+CELIA	Give me audience, good madam.
+
+ROSALIND	Proceed.
+
+CELIA	There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight.
+
+ROSALIND	Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
+	becomes the ground.
+
+CELIA	Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets
+	unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.
+
+ROSALIND	O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
+
+CELIA	I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest
+	me out of tune.
+
+ROSALIND	Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must
+	speak. Sweet, say on.
+
+CELIA	You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES]
+
+ROSALIND	'Tis he: slink by, and note him.
+
+JAQUES	I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had
+	as lief have been myself alone.
+
+ORLANDO	And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you
+	too for your society.
+
+JAQUES	God be wi' 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-favouredly.
+
+JAQUES	Rosalind is your love's name?
+
+ORLANDO	Yes, just.
+
+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 pretty answers. Have you not been
+	acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them
+	out of rings?
+
+ORLANDO	Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from
+	whence you have studied your questions.
+
+JAQUES	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.
+
+ORLANDO	I will chide no breather 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 change for your best virtue.
+	I am weary of you.
+
+JAQUES	By my troth, 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 figure.
+
+ORLANDO	Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
+
+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]
+
+ROSALIND	[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?
+
+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
+	detect 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 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.
+
+ORLANDO	I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
+
+ROSALIND	Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the
+	contract of her marriage and the day it is
+	solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight,
+	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 wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden
+	of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal.
+
+ORLANDO	Who doth he gallop withal?
+
+ROSALIND	With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as
+	softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
+
+ORLANDO	Who stays it still withal?
+
+ROSALIND	With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between
+	term 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
+	skirts 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 kindled.
+
+ORLANDO	Your accent is something finer than you could
+	purchase in so removed a dwelling.
+
+ROSALIND	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 touched with so many
+	giddy offences as he hath generally 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 his fellow fault came to match it.
+
+ORLANDO	I prithee, recount some of them.
+
+ROSALIND	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.
+
+ORLANDO	I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you tell me
+	your remedy.
+
+ROSALIND	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.
+
+ORLANDO	What were his marks?
+
+ROSALIND	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 ungartered, your
+	bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 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 accoutrements as
+	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 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 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 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 punished and cured
+	is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers
+	are in love too. Yet I profess 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 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 colour; 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 humour of love to a living humour of
+	madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of
+	the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic.
+	And thus I cured 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.
+
+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 cote 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 by 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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+
+SCENE III	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind]
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your
+	goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet?
+	doth my simple feature content you?
+
+AUDREY	Your features! Lord warrant us! what features!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most
+	capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
+
+JAQUES	[Aside]  O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove
+	in a thatched house!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a
+	man's good wit seconded with the forward child
+	Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a
+	great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would
+	the gods had made thee poetical.
+
+AUDREY	I do not know what 'poetical' is: is it honest in
+	deed and word? is it a true thing?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most
+	feigning; 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 swearest to me thou art
+	honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some
+	hope thou didst feign.
+
+AUDREY	Would you not have me honest?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for
+	honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
+
+JAQUES	[Aside]  A material 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 slut
+	were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
+
+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 Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next
+	village, who hath promised to meet me in this place
+	of the forest and to couple us.
+
+JAQUES	[Aside]  I would fain see this meeting.
+
+AUDREY	Well, the gods give us joy!
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart,
+	stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple
+	but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what
+	though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are
+	necessary. It is said, 'many a man knows no end of
+	his goods:' 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 deer
+	hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man
+	therefore blessed? No: as a walled 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 defence is better than no
+	skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to
+	want. Here comes Sir Oliver.
+
+	[Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT]
+
+	Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you
+	dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go
+	with you to your chapel?
+
+SIR OLIVER MARTEXT	Is there none here to give the woman?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	I will not take her on gift of any man.
+
+SIR OLIVER MARTEXT	Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
+
+JAQUES	[Advancing]
+
+	Proceed, proceed	I'll give her.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	Good even, good Master What-ye-call't: how do you,
+	sir? You are very well met: God 'ild you for your
+	last company: I am very glad to see you: even a
+	toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered.
+
+JAQUES	Will you be married, motley?
+
+TOUCHSTONE	As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb and
+	the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and
+	as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
+
+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 wainscot; then one of you will
+	prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp.
+
+TOUCHSTONE	[Aside]  I am not in the mind but I were better to be
+	married of him than of another: for he is not like
+	to marry me well; 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 bawdry.
+	Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,--
+	O sweet Oliver,
+	O brave Oliver,
+	Leave me not behind thee: but,--
+	Wind away,
+	Begone, I say,
+	I will not to wedding with thee.
+
+	[Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY]
+
+SIR OLIVER MARTEXT	'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them
+	all shall flout me out of my calling.
+
+	[Exit]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+
+SCENE IV	The forest.
+
+
+	[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.
+
+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.
+
+CELIA	Something browner than Judas's marry, his kisses are
+	Judas's own children.
+
+ROSALIND	I' faith, his hair is of a good colour.
+
+CELIA	An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour.
+
+ROSALIND	And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch
+	of holy bread.
+
+CELIA	He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun
+	of winter's sisterhood 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 concave as a covered goblet 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 tapster; they are
+	both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends
+	here in the forest on the duke your father.
+
+ROSALIND	I met the duke yesterday and had much question 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 puisny tilter, that spurs his horse
+	but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble
+	goose: 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 complain'd of 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 pageant truly play'd,
+	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 mark it.
+
+ROSALIND	O, come, let us remove:
+	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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+
+SCENE V	Another part of the forest.
+
+
+	[Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE]
+
+SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe;
+	Say that you love me not, but say not so
+	In bitterness. The common executioner,
+	Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard,
+	Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
+	But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
+	Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?
+
+	[Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind]
+
+PHEBE	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 pretty, sure, and very probable,
+	That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
+	Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
+	Should be call'd 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 counterfeit 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 rush,
+	The cicatrice and capable impressure
+	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 Phebe,
+	If ever,--as that ever may be near,--
+	You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
+	Then shall you know the wounds invisible
+	That love's keen arrows make.
+
+PHEBE	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.
+
+ROSALIND	And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
+	That you insult, exult, and all at once,
+	Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,--
+	As, by my faith, I see no more in you
+	Than without candle may go dark to bed--
+	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 ordinary
+	Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,
+	I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
+	No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:
+	'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
+	Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
+	That can entame my spirits to your worship.
+	You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
+	Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
+	You are a thousand times a properer man
+	Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you
+	That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children:
+	'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
+	And out of you she sees herself more proper
+	Than any of her lineaments 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:
+	Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
+	Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
+	So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.
+
+PHEBE	Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:
+	I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
+
+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 sauce her
+	with bitter words. Why look you so upon me?
+
+PHEBE	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 wine:
+	Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
+	'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
+	Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply 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 sight as he.
+	Come, to our flock.
+
+	[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN]
+
+PHEBE	Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might,
+	'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'
+
+SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe,--
+
+PHEBE	                  Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius?
+
+SILVIUS	Sweet Phebe, pity me.
+
+PHEBE	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 extermined.
+
+PHEBE	Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?
+
+SILVIUS	I would have you.
+
+PHEBE	                  Why, that were covetousness.
+	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 erst 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 employ'd.
+
+SILVIUS	So holy and so perfect is my love,
+	And I in such a poverty of grace,
+	That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
+	To glean the broken ears after the man
+	That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
+	A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.
+
+PHEBE	Know'st now the youth that spoke to me erewhile?
+
+SILVIUS	Not very well, but I have met him oft;
+	And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
+	That the old carlot once was master of.
+
+PHEBE	Think not I love him, though I ask for him:
+	'Tis but a peevish 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 complexion; 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 lusty red
+	Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
+	Between the constant red and mingled damask.
+	There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
+	In parcels 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
+	I 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 remember'd, scorn'd at me:
+	I marvel why I answer'd not again:
+	But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
+	I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
+	And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius?
+
+SILVIUS	Phebe, with all my heart.
+
+PHEBE	I'll write it straight;
+	The matter's in my head and in my heart:
+	I will be bitter with him and passing short.
+	Go with me, Silvius.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+
+
+SCENE I	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter ROSALIND, 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
+	censure worse than drunkards.
+
+JAQUES	Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
+
+ROSALIND	Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
+
+JAQUES	I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is
+	emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical,
+	nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the
+	soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's,
+	which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor
+	the lover's, which is all these: but it is a
+	melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,
+	extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry's
+	contemplation of my travels, in which my often
+	rumination wraps me m a most humorous 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.
+
+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 travel for it too!
+
+	[Enter ORLANDO]
+
+ORLANDO	Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
+
+JAQUES	Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse.
+
+	[Exit]
+
+ROSALIND	Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and
+	wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your
+	own country, be out of love with your nativity and
+	almost chide God for making you that countenance you
+	are, or I will scarce think you have swam 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 thousandth part of a minute in the
+	affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid
+	hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant
+	him heart-whole.
+
+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 jointure,
+	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 fain to be
+	beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in
+	his fortune and prevents the slander 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 leer than you.
+
+ROSALIND	Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday
+	humour and like enough to consent. What would you
+	say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?
+
+ORLANDO	I would kiss before I spoke.
+
+ROSALIND	Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were
+	gravelled for lack of matter, you might take
+	occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are
+	out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking--God
+	warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift 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 out, being before his beloved mistress?
+
+ROSALIND	Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or
+	I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
+
+ORLANDO	What, of my suit?
+
+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 attorney. The poor world is
+	almost six thousand years old, and in all this time
+	there was not any man died in his own person,
+	videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains
+	dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he
+	could to die before, and he is one of the patterns
+	of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair
+	year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been
+	for a hot midsummer 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
+	coroners of that age found it 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 right 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-on
+	disposition, and ask me what you will. I will grant
+	it.
+
+ORLANDO	Then love me, Rosalind.
+
+ROSALIND	Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
+
+ORLANDO	And wilt thou have me?
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, and twenty 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 to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
+
+ORLANDO	I will.
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, but when?
+
+ORLANDO	Why now; as fast 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 commission; but I do take
+	thee, Orlando, for my husband: there's a girl goes
+	before the 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 possessed her.
+
+ORLANDO	For ever 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-pigeon over his hen,
+	more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more
+	new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires
+	than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana
+	in the fountain, and I will do that when you are
+	disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and
+	that when thou art inclined to sleep.
+
+ORLANDO	But will my Rosalind do so?
+
+ROSALIND	By my life, she will do as I do.
+
+ORLANDO	O, but she is wise.
+
+ROSALIND	Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the
+	wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a woman's
+	wit and it will out at the casement; shut that and
+	'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly
+	with the smoke out at the chimney.
+
+ORLANDO	A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say
+	'Wit, whither wilt?'
+
+ROSALIND	Nay, you might keep that cheque for it till you met
+	your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.
+
+ORLANDO	And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
+
+ROSALIND	Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall
+	never take her without her answer, unless you take
+	her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot
+	make her fault her husband's occasion, let her
+	never nurse her child herself, for she will breed
+	it like a fool!
+
+ORLANDO	For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
+
+ROSALIND	Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.
+
+ORLANDO	I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock I
+	will be with thee again.
+
+ROSALIND	Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you
+	would prove: my friends told me as much, and I
+	thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours
+	won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come,
+	death! Two o'clock is your hour?
+
+ORLANDO	Ay, sweet Rosalind.
+
+ROSALIND	By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend
+	me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous,
+	if you break one jot of your promise or come one
+	minute behind your hour, I will think you the most
+	pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover
+	and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that
+	may be chosen out of the gross band of the
+	unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and keep
+	your promise.
+
+ORLANDO	With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my
+	Rosalind: so adieu.
+
+ROSALIND	Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such
+	offenders, and let Time try: adieu.
+
+	[Exit ORLANDO]
+
+CELIA	You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate:
+	we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your
+	head, and show the world what the bird hath done to
+	her own nest.
+
+ROSALIND	O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou
+	didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But
+	it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown
+	bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
+
+CELIA	Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour
+	affection in, it runs out.
+
+ROSALIND	No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot
+	of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness,
+	that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes
+	because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I
+	am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out
+	of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and
+	sigh till he come.
+
+CELIA	And I'll sleep.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+
+
+SCENE II	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters]
+
+JAQUES	Which is he that killed the deer?
+
+A Lord	Sir, it was I.
+
+JAQUES	Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman
+	conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's
+	horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have
+	you no song, forester, for this purpose?
+
+Forester	Yes, sir.
+
+JAQUES	Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it
+	make noise enough.
+	
+	SONG.
+Forester	What shall he have that kill'd the deer?
+	His leather skin and horns to wear.
+	Then sing him home;
+
+	[The rest shall bear this burden]
+
+	Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
+	It was a crest ere thou wast born:
+	Thy father's father wore it,
+	And thy father bore it:
+	The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
+	Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+
+
+SCENE III	The forest.
+
+
+	[Enter ROSALIND and CELIA]
+
+ROSALIND	How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and
+	here much Orlando!
+
+CELIA	I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he
+	hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to
+	sleep. Look, who comes here.
+
+	[Enter SILVIUS]
+
+SILVIUS	My errand is to you, fair youth;
+	My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
+	I know not the contents; but, as I guess
+	By the stern brow and waspish action
+	Which she did use as she was writing of it,
+	It bears an angry tenor: pardon me:
+	I am but as a guiltless messenger.
+
+ROSALIND	Patience herself would startle at this letter
+	And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
+	She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;
+	She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,
+	Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will!
+	Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
+	Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
+	This is a letter of your own device.
+
+SILVIUS	No, I protest, I know not the contents:
+	Phebe did write it.
+
+ROSALIND	Come, come, you are a fool
+	And turn'd into the extremity of love.
+	I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand.
+	A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
+	That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands:
+	She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter:
+	I say she never did invent this letter;
+	This is a man's invention and his hand.
+
+SILVIUS	Sure, it is hers.
+
+ROSALIND	Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style.
+	A style for-challengers; why, she defies me,
+	Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain
+	Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention
+	Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect
+	Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
+
+SILVIUS	So please you, for I never heard it yet;
+	Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
+
+ROSALIND	She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.
+
+	[Reads]
+
+	Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
+	That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?
+	Can a woman rail thus?
+
+SILVIUS	Call you this railing?
+
+ROSALIND	[Reads]
+
+	Why, thy godhead laid apart,
+	Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?
+	Did you ever hear such railing?
+	Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
+	That could do no vengeance to me.
+	Meaning me a beast.
+	If the scorn of your bright eyne
+	Have power to raise such love in mine,
+	Alack, in me what strange effect
+	Would they work in mild aspect!
+	Whiles you chid me, I did love;
+	How then might your prayers move!
+	He that brings this love to thee
+	Little knows this love in me:
+	And by him seal up thy mind;
+	Whether that thy youth and kind
+	Will the faithful offer take
+	Of me and all that I can make;
+	Or else by him my love deny,
+	And then I'll study how to die.
+
+SILVIUS	Call you this chiding?
+
+CELIA	Alas, poor shepherd!
+
+ROSALIND	Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt
+	thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an
+	instrument and play false strains upon thee! not to
+	be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see
+	love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to
+	her: that if she love me, I charge her to love
+	thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless
+	thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover,
+	hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
+
+	[Exit SILVIUS]
+
+	[Enter OLIVER]
+
+OLIVER	Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,
+	Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
+	A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees?
+
+CELIA	West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom:
+	The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
+	Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
+	But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
+	There's none within.
+
+OLIVER	If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
+	Then should I know you by description;
+	Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair,
+	Of female favour, and bestows himself
+	Like a ripe sister: the woman low
+	And browner than her brother.' Are not you
+	The owner of the house I did inquire for?
+
+CELIA	It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
+
+OLIVER	Orlando doth commend him to you both,
+	And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
+	He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
+
+ROSALIND	I am: what must we understand by this?
+
+OLIVER	Some of my shame; if you will know of me
+	What man I am, and how, and why, and where
+	This handkercher was stain'd.
+
+CELIA	I pray you, tell it.
+
+OLIVER	When last the young Orlando parted from you
+	He left a promise to return again
+	Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
+	Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
+	Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside,
+	And mark what object did present itself:
+	Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age
+	And high top bald with dry antiquity,
+	A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
+	Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
+	A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
+	Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd
+	The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
+	Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
+	And with indented glides did slip away
+	Into a bush: under which bush's shade
+	A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
+	Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
+	When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
+	The royal disposition of that beast
+	To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
+	This seen, Orlando did approach the man
+	And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
+
+CELIA	O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
+	And he did render him the most unnatural
+	That lived amongst men.
+
+OLIVER	And well he might so do,
+	For well I know he was unnatural.
+
+ROSALIND	But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,
+	Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
+
+OLIVER	Twice did he turn his back and purposed so;
+	But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
+	And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
+	Made him give battle to the lioness,
+	Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling
+	From miserable slumber I awaked.
+
+CELIA	Are you his brother?
+
+ROSALIND	Wast you he rescued?
+
+CELIA	Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
+
+OLIVER	'Twas I; but 'tis not I	I do not shame
+	To tell you what I was, since my conversion
+	So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
+
+ROSALIND	But, for the bloody napkin?
+
+OLIVER	By and by.
+	When from the first to last betwixt us two
+	Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,
+	As how I came into that desert place:--
+	In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
+	Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
+	Committing me unto my brother's love;
+	Who led me instantly unto his cave,
+	There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
+	The lioness had torn some flesh away,
+	Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted
+	And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
+	Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound;
+	And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
+	He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
+	To tell this story, that you might excuse
+	His broken promise, and to give this napkin
+	Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth
+	That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
+
+	[ROSALIND swoons]
+
+CELIA	Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
+
+OLIVER	Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
+
+CELIA	There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
+
+OLIVER	Look, he recovers.
+
+ROSALIND	I would I were at home.
+
+CELIA	We'll lead you thither.
+	I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
+
+OLIVER	Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a
+	man's heart.
+
+ROSALIND	I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would
+	think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell
+	your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!
+
+OLIVER	This was not counterfeit: there is too great
+	testimony in your complexion that it was a passion
+	of earnest.
+
+ROSALIND	Counterfeit, I assure you.
+
+OLIVER	Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.
+
+ROSALIND	So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right.
+
+CELIA	Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw
+	homewards. Good sir, go with us.
+
+OLIVER	That will I, for I must bear answer back
+	How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
+
+ROSALIND	I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend
+	my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?
+
+	[Exeunt]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+
+SCENE I	The forest.
+
+
+	[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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+
+SCENE II	The forest.
+
+
+	[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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+
+SCENE III	The forest.
+
+
+	[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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+
+SCENE IV	The forest.
+
+
+	[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]
+
+
+
+
+	AS YOU LIKE IT
+
+	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]