# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/As You Like It/Act 3 Scene 2

Scena Secunda.
Enter Orlando.
Orl.
Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue,
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue
Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes,
And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter,
That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes,
Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where.
Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,
The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee. Exit.
Enter Corin & Clowne.
And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone?
Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard?
Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.
Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher: Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?
Cor. No truly.
Clo. Then thou art damn'd.
Cor.
Nay, I hope.
Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at Court? your reason.
Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard.
Cor.
Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards.
Clo.
Instance, briefly: come, instance.
Cor.
Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their Fels you know are greasie.
Clo.
Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come.
Cor.
Besides, our hands are hard.
Clo.
Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come.
Cor.
And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet.
Clo.
Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard.
Cor.
You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest.
Clo.
Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw.
Cor.
Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke.
Clo.
That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape.
Cor.
Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses Brother.
Enter Rosalind
no iewel is like Rosalinde,
Hir worth being mounted on the winde,
through all the world beares Rosalinde.
All the pictures fairest Linde,
are but blacke to Rosalinde:
Let no face bee kept in mind,
but the faire of Rosalinde.
Clo.
Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to Market.
Ros.
Out Foole.
Clo.
For a taste.
Let him seeke out Rosalinde:
If the Cat will after kinde,
so be sure will Rosalinde:
Wintred garments must be linde,
so must slender Rosalinde:
They that reap must sheafe and binde,
then to cart with Rosalinde.
Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde,
such a nut is Rosalinde.
He that sweetest rose will finde, must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde.
This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe with them?
Ros.
Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree.
Clo.
Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite.
Ros.
Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the Medler.
Clo.
Enter Celia with a writing.
Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside.
Cel. Why should this Desert bee,
for it is vnpeopled? Noe:
Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree,
that shall ciuill sayings shoe.
Some, how briefe the Life of man
runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span,
buckles in his summe of age.
Some of violated vowes,
twixt the soules of friend, and friend:
But vpon the fairest bowes,
or at euerie sentence end;
Will I Rosalinda write,
teaching all that reade, to know
The quintessence of euerie sprite,
heauen would in little show.
Therefore heauen Nature charg'd,
that one bodie should be fill'd
With all Graces wide enlarg'd,
nature presently distill'd
Helens cheeke, butnot his heart, Cleopatra's Maiestie: Attalanta's better part, sad Lucrecia's Modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts, by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, to haue the touches deerest pris'd. Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die her slaue.
Ros.
O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people.
Cel.
How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah.
Clo.
Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Exit.
Cel.
Didst thou heare these verses?
Ros.
O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feete then the Verses would beare.
Cel.
That's no matter: the feet might beare the verses.
Ros.
I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
Cel.
But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees?
Ros.
I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel.
Tro you, who hath done this?
Ros.
Is it a man?
Cel.
And a chaine that you once wore about his neck: change you colour?
Ros.
I pre'thee who?
Cel.
O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes, and so encounter.
Ros.
Nay, but who is it?
Cel.
Is it possible?
Ros.
Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel.
O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.
Ros.
Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings.
Cel.
So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros.
Is he of Gods making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?
Cel.
Nay, he hath but a little beard.
Ros.
Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel.
It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers heeles, and your heart, both in an instant.
Ros.
Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde brow, and true maid.
Cel.
I'faith (Coz) tis he.
Ros.
Orlando?
Cel.
Orlando.
Ros.
Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one word.
Cel.
You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme.
Ros.
But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled?
Cel.
It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne.
Ros.
It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite.
Cel.
Giue me audience, good Madam.
Ros.
Proceed.
Cel.
There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded knight.
Ros.
Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
Cel.
Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes vnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Honter.
Ros.
O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart
Cel.
I would sing my song without a burthen, thou bring'st me out of tune.
Ros.
Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke, I must speake: sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando & Iaques.
You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?
Ros. 'Tis he, slinke by, and note him.
Iaq.
I thanke you for your company, but good faith I had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone.
Orl.
And so had I: but yet for fashion sake
I thanke you too, for your societie.
Iaq.
God buy you, let's meet as little as we can.
Orl.
I do desire we may be better strangers.
Iaq.
I pray you marre no more trees with Writing Loue-songs in their barkes.
Orl.
I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading them ill-fauouredly.
Iaq.
Rosalinde is your loues name?
Orl.
Yes, Iust.
Iaq.
I do not like her name.
Orl.
There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christen'd.
Iaq.
What stature is she of?
Orl.
Iust as high as my heart.
Iaq.
You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted with goldsmiths wiues, & cond the out of rings.
Orl.
Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath, from whence you haue studied your questions.
Iaq.
You haue a nimble wit; I thinke'twas made of Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all our miserie.
Orl.
I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe
against whom I know most faults.
Iaq. The worst fault you haue, is to be in loue.
Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best vertue: I am wearie of you.
Iaq.
By my troth, I was seeking for a Foole, when I found you.
Orl.
He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and you shall see him.
Iaq.
There I shal see mine owne figure.
Orl.
Which I take to be either a foole, or a Cipher.
Iaq.
Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good signior Loue.
Orl.
I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Monsieur Melancholly.
Ros.
I wil speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vnder that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear Forrester.
Orl.
Verie wel, what would you?
Ros.
I pray you, what i'st a clocke?
Orl.
You should aske me what time o'day: there's no clocke in the Forrest.
Ros.
Then there is no true Louer in the Forrest, else sighing euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold detect the lazie foot of time, as wel as a clocke.
Orl.
And why not the swift foote of time? Had not that bin as proper?
Ros.
By no meanes sir; Time trauels in diuers paces, with diuers persons: Ile tel you who Time ambles withall, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands stil withall.
Orl.
I prethee, who doth he trot withal?
Ros.
Marry he trots hard with a yong maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnizd: if the interim be but a sennight, Times pace is so hard, that it seemes the length of seuen yeare.
Orl.
Who ambles Time withal?
Ros.
With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the Gowt: for the one sleepes easily because he cannot study, and the other liues merrily, because he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of leane and wasteful Learning; the other knowing no burthen of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles withal.
Orl.
Who doth he gallop withal?
Ros.
With a theefe to the gallowes: for though hee go as softly as foot can fall, he thinkes himselfe too soon there.
Orl.
Who staies it stil withal?
Ros.
With Lawiers in the vacation: for they sleepe betweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue not how time moues.
Orl.
Where dwel you prettie youth?
Ros.
With this Shepheardesse my sister: heere in the skirts of the Forrest, like fringe vpon a petticoat.
Orl.
Are you natiue of this place?
Ros.
As the Conie that you see dwell where shee is kindled.
Orl.
Your accent is something finer, then you could purchase in so remoued a dwelling.
Ros.
I haue bin told so of many: but indeed, an olde religious Vnckle of mine taught me to speake, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too well: for there he fel in loue. I haue heard him read many Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Woman to be touch'd with so many giddie offences as hee hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
Orl.
Can you remember any of the principall euils, that he laid to the charge of women?
Ros.
There were none principal, they were all like one another, as halfepence are, euerie one fault seeming monstrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it.
Orl.
I prethee recount some of them.
Ros.
No: I wil not cast away my physick, but on those that are sicke. There is a man haunts the Forrest, that abuses our yong plants with caruing Rosalinde on their barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on brambles; all (forsooth) defying the name of Rosalinde. If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him some good counsel, for he seemes to haue the Quotidian of Loue vpon him.
Orl.
I am he that is so Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel me your remedie.
Ros.
There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you: he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage of rushes, I am sure you art not prisoner.
Orl.
What were his markes?
Ros.
A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie and sunken, which you haue not: an vnquestionable spirit, which you haue not: a beard neglected, which you haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for simply your hauing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your sleeue vnbutton'd, your shoo vnti'de, and euerie thing about you, demonstrating a carelesse desolation: but you are no such man; you are rather point deuice in your accoustrements, as louing your selfe, then seeming the Louer of any other.
Orl.
Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue I Loue.
Ros.
Me beleeue it? You may assoone make her that you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant she is apter to do, then to confesse she do's: that is one of the points, in the which women stil giue the lie to their consciences. But in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the Trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?
Orl.
I sweare to thee youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he.
Ros.
But are you so much in loue, as your rimes speak?
Orl.
Neither rime nor reason can expresse how much.
Ros.
Loue is meerely a madnesse, and I tel you, deserues as wel a darke house, and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is that the Lunacie is so ordinarie, that the whippers are in loue too: yet I professe curing it by counsel.
Orl.
Did you euer cure any so?
Ros.
Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his Mistris: and I set him euerie day to woe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, ful of teares, full of smiles; for euerie passion something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the most part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forswear him: now weepe for him, then spit at him; that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of madnes, w was to forsweare the ful stream of y world, and to liue in a nooke meerly Monastick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to wash your Liuer as cleane as a sound sheepes heart, that there shal not be one spot of Loue in't.
Orl.
I would not be cured, youth.
Ros.
I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me.
Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will; Tel me where it is.
Ros. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by the way, you shal tell me, where in the Forrest you liue: Wil you go?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth.
Ros. Nay, you must call mee Rosalind: Come sister, will you go? Exeunt.
Layout 2