As You Like It (1599-1600)

Online Critical Edition in Progress - Version 1.c.
Date variant: 1599
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Act V, Scene 1

The forest

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

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

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

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

It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth,
we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be
flouting; we cannot hold.

Good ev'n, Audrey.

God ye good ev'n, William.

And good ev'n to you, sir.

Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy
head; nay, prithee be cover'd. How old are you, friend?

Five and twenty, sir.

A ripe age. Is thy name William?

William, sir.

A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here?

Ay, sir, I thank God.

'Thank God.' A good answer.
Art rich?

Faith, sir, so so.

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

Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Why, thou say'st 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?

I do, sir.

Give me your hand. Art thou learned?

No, sir.

Then learn this of me: to have is to have; for it is a
figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour'd out of 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.

Which he, sir?

He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you
clown, abandon- which is in the vulgar leave- the society- which
in the boorish is company- of this female- which in the common is
woman- which together is: abandon the society of this female; or,
clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest;
or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into
death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee,
or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction;
will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and
fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart.

Do, good William.

God rest you merry, sir. Exit

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

Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. I attend, I attend.

Act V, Scene 2

The forest

Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should
like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo?
and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy

Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty
of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden
consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she
loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It
shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue
that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live
and die a shepherd.

You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow.
Thither will I invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go
you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.

God save you, brother.

And you, fair sister. Exit

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

It is my arm.

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

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

Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon
when he show'd me your handkercher?

Ay, and greater wonders than that.

O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never
any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's
thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother
and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but
they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but
they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but
they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair
of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else
be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of
love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them.

They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke
to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into
happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I
to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I
shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.

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

I can live no longer by thinking.

I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know
of me then- for now I speak to some purpose- that I know you are
a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should
bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you
are; neither do I 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, convers'd
with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable.
If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries
it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I
know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not
impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set
her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any

Speak'st thou in sober meanings?

By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I
am a magician. Therefore put you in your best array, bid your
friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to
Rosalind, if you will.
Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.

Youth, you have done me much ungentleness
To show the letter that I writ to you.

I care not if I have. It is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.
You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.

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

It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
And so am I for Phebe.

And I for Ganymede.

And I for Rosalind.

And I for no woman.

It is to be all made of faith and service;
And so am I for Phebe.

And I for Ganymede.

And I for Rosalind.

And I for no woman.

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 obedience;
And so am I for Phebe.

And so am I for Ganymede.

And so am I for Rosalind.

And so am I for no woman.

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

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

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

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

To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.

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

I'll not fail, if I live.

Nor I.

Nor I. Exeunt

Act V, Scene 3

The forest

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

I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no
dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come
two of the banish'd Duke's pages.

First Page
Well met, honest gentleman.

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

Second Page
We are for you; sit i' th' 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.
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 the 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 the 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 the spring time, &c.

Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great
matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.

First Page
You are deceiv'd, sir; we kept time, we lost not our

By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such
a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices. Come,
Audrey. Exeunt

Act V, Scene 4

The forest

Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?

I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not:
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.

Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You will bestow her on Orlando here?

That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.

And you say you will have her when I bring her?

That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.

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

That will I, should I die the hour after.

But if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?

So is the bargain.

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

Though to have her and death were both one thing.

I have promis'd 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.

I do remember in this shepherd boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.

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.

Jaques (lord)
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 call'd fools.

Salutation and greeting to you all!

Jaques (lord)
Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded
gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a
courtier, he swears.

If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation.
I have trod a measure; I have flatt'red 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

Jaques (lord)
And how was that ta'en up?

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

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

I like him very well.

God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in
here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear
and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A
poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a
poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that man else will. Rich
honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl
in your foul oyster.

By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.

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

Jaques (lord)
But, for the seventh cause: how did you find the quarrel on
the seventh cause?

Upon a lie seven times removed- bear your body more
seeming, Audrey- as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain
courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not
cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is call'd 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 call'd the Quip
Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment.
This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut,
he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof
Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This
is call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome. And so to the Lie
Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.

Jaques (lord)
And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?

I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor
he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords
and parted.

Jaques (lord)
Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?

O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book, as you have
books for good manners. I will name you the degrees. The first,
the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the
Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the
Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance;
the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie
Direct; and you may avoid that too with an If. I knew when seven
justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were
met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as: 'If you
said so, then I said so.' And they shook hands, and swore
brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.

Jaques (lord)
Is not this a rare fellow, my lord?
He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool.

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the
presentation of that he shoots his wit.
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.

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

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

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

If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love adieu!

I'll have no father, if you be not he;
I'll have no husband, if you be not he;
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.

Peace, ho! I bar confusion;
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events.
Here's eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen's bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part;
You and you are heart in heart;
You to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord;
You and you are sure together,
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning,
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
Wedding is great Juno's crown;
O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;
High wedlock then be honoured.
Honour, high honour, and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town!

O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree.

I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.

Jaques (son)
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 restor'd to them again
That were with him exil'd. This to be true
I do engage my life.

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 endur'd 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 th' measures fall.

Jaques (lord)
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 (lord)
To him will I. Out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
[To DUKE] 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.

Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaques (lord)
To see no pastime I. What you would have
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. Exit

Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites,
As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt EPILOGUE

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
furnish'd 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 simp'ring 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
pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd 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.

© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.


© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.