The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 2 of 9]

AS YOU LIKE IT.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ1.

001 Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion 002 bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, 003 as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques 005 he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak 007 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; 010 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 015 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, 020 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.

023 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will 025 shake me up.

Enter Oliver.

026 Oli. Now, sir! what make you here?

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.

Oli. What mar you then, sir?

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God 030 made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.

031 Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? 034 What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to 035 such penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, sir?

Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.

Oli. Know you before whom, sir?

039 Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I 040 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 045 my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before 046 me is nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

050 Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir 052 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 055 till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.

057 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your father’s remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

060 Orl. 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 063 from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: 065 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.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; 070 you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me.

Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

Adam. Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, I have lost 075 my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam.

077 Oli. 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.

080 Den. Calls your worship?

081 Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.

085 Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] ’Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

Enter Charles.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

088 Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news at the new court?

090 Cha. 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 095 good leave to wander.

096 Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?

098 Cha. O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that 100 she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind 101 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.

Oli. Where will the old Duke live?

105 Cha. 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.

110 Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?

111 Cha. 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 115 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 120 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.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of 125 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 130 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 135 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 139 should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and 140 weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. 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!

145 Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for 147 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 150 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.

000 Scene II. Lawn before the Duke’s palace.

AYLI I. 2 Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress 003 of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not 005 learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. 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 010 thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.

014 Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor 015 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 020 merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?

Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport 025 neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.

Ros. What shall be our sport, then?

Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed 030 equally.

Ros. 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.

Cel. ’Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce 035 makes honest; and those that she makes honest she makes 036 very ill-favouredly.

Ros. 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.

040 Cel. 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 043 this fool to cut off the argument?

044 Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, 045 when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit.

Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, 048 but Nature’s; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to 049 reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our 050 whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone 051 of the wits. How now, wit! whither wander you?

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the messenger?

Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come 055 for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Touch. 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 060 were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?

064 Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.

065 Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no 070 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.

073 Cel. Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest?

074 Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

075 Cel. 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.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely 079 what wise men do foolishly.

080 Cel. 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 083 Le Beau.

084 Ros. With his mouth full of news.

085 Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed.

087 Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

Enter Le Beau.

088 Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news?

089 Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

090 Cel. Sport! of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I answer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

093 Touch. Or as the Destinies decrees.

Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.

095 Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,—

Ros. 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.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

100 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.

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.

Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons,—

105 Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

106 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.

Ros. With bills on their necks, ‘Be it known unto all men by these presents.’

110 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 115 dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Ros. Alas!

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

120 Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the 122 first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music 125 in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

129 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the 130 place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay 132 and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.

133 Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.

135 Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

140 Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, 142 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.

145 Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.

Duke F. Do so: I’ll not be by.

147 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for you.

149 Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty.

150 Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I 153 come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

155 Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: if 157 you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, 160 to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. 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.

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so 165 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 is willing to be so: I shall do my 170 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.

174 Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were 175 with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!

Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you!

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so 180 desirous to lie with his mother earth?

181 Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat 185 him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

187 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have 188 mocked me before: but come your ways.

Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!

190 Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow 191 by the leg. [They wrestle.

Ros. O excellent young man!

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who 194 should down. [Shout. Charles is thrown.

195 Duke F. No more, no more.

Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace: I am not yet well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?

Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.

000 Scene III. A room in the palace.

AYLI I. 3 Enter Celia and Rosalind.

Cel. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away 005 upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.

007 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any.

010 Cel. But is all this for your father?

011 Ros. No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our 015 very petticoats will catch them.

Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him.

020 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, 025 let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, 026 you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?

Ros. The Duke my father loved his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his 030 son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

032 Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.

033 Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?

034 Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love him 035 because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.

036 Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords.