1    Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
2    And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
3    With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
4    Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.
5    O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books
6    And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
7    That every eye which in this forest looks
8    Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
9    Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree
10   The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she.

11   And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?

12   Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good
13   life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life,
14   it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I
15   like it very well; but in respect that it is
16   private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it
17   is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in
18   respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As
19   is it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well;
20   but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much
21   against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

22   No more but that I know the more one sickens the
23   worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money,
24   means and content is without three good friends;
25   that the property of rain is to wet and fire to
26   burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a
27   great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that
28   he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may
29   complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

30   Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in
31   court, shepherd?

32   No, truly.

33   Then thou art damned.

34   Nay, I hope.

35   Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all
36   on one side.

37   For not being at court? Your reason.

38   Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest
39   good manners; if thou never sawest good manners,
40   then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is
41   sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous
42   state, shepherd.

43   Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners
44   at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the
45   behavior of the country is most mockable at the
46   court. You told me you salute not at the court, but
47   you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be
48   uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

49   Instance, briefly; come, instance.

50   Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
51   fells, you know, are greasy.

52   Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not
53   the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of
54   a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come.

55   Besides, our hands are hard.

56   Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again.
57   A more sounder instance, come.

58   And they are often tarred over with the surgery of
59   our sheep: and would you have us kiss tar? The
60   courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

61   Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a
62   good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and
63   perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the
64   very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

65   You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest.

66   Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man!
67   God make incision in thee! thou art raw.

68   Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get
69   that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's
70   happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my
71   harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes
72   graze and my lambs suck.

73   That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes
74   and the rams together and to offer to get your
75   living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a
76   bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a
77   twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram,
78   out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not
79   damned for this, the devil himself will have no
80   shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst
81   'scape.

82   Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.

83   From the east to western Ind,
84   No jewel is like Rosalind.
85   Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
86   Through all the world bears Rosalind.
87   All the pictures fairest lined
88   Are but black to Rosalind.
89   Let no fair be kept in mind
90   But the fair of Rosalind.

91   I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and
92   suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the
93   right butter-women's rank to market.

94   Out, fool!

95   For a taste:
96   If a hart do lack a hind,
97   Let him seek out Rosalind.
98   If the cat will after kind,
99   So be sure will Rosalind.
100  Winter garments must be lined,
101  So must slender Rosalind.
102  They that reap must sheaf and bind;
103  Then to cart with Rosalind.
104  Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
105  Such a nut is Rosalind.
106  He that sweetest rose will find
107  Must find love's prick and Rosalind.
108  This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you
109  infect yourself with them?

110  Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.

111  Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

112  I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it
113  with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit
114  i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half
115  ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar.

116  You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the
117  forest judge.

118  Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.

Reads
119  Why should this a desert be?
120  For it is unpeopled? No:
121  Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
122  That shall civil sayings show:
123  Some, how brief the life of man
124  Runs his erring pilgrimage,
125  That the stretching of a span
126  Buckles in his sum of age;
127  Some, of violated vows
128  'Twixt the souls of friend and friend:
129  But upon the fairest boughs,
130  Or at every sentence end,
131  Will I Rosalinda write,
132  Teaching all that read to know
133  The quintessence of every sprite
134  Heaven would in little show.
135  Therefore Heaven Nature charged
136  That one body should be fill'd
137  With all graces wide-enlarged:
138  Nature presently distill'd
139  Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
140  Cleopatra's majesty,
141  Atalanta's better part,
142  Sad Lucretia's modesty.
143  Thus Rosalind of many parts
144  By heavenly synod was devised,
145  Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
146  To have the touches dearest prized.
147  Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
148  And I to live and die her slave.

149  O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love
150  have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never
151  cried 'Have patience, good people!'

152  How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little.
153  Go with him, sirrah.

154  Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat;
155  though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.

156  Didst thou hear these verses?

157  O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of
158  them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

159  That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.

160  Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear
161  themselves without the verse and therefore stood
162  lamely in the verse.

163  But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name
164  should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

165  I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder
166  before you came; for look here what I found on a
167  palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since
168  Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I
169  can hardly remember.

170  Trow you who hath done this?

171  Is it a man?

172  And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck.
173  Change you colour?

174  I prithee, who?

175  O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to
176  meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes
177  and so encounter.

178  Nay, but who is it?

179  Is it possible?

180  Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence,
181  tell me who it is.

182  O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
183  wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that,
184  out of all hooping!

185  Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am
186  caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in
187  my disposition? One inch of delay more is a
188  South-sea of discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it
189  quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst
190  stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man
191  out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-
192  mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at
193  all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that
194  may drink thy tidings.

195  So you may put a man in your belly.

196  Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his
197  head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

198  Nay, he hath but a little beard.

199  Why, God will send more, if the man will be
200  thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if
201  thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.

202  It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's
203  heels and your heart both in an instant.

204  Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and
205  true maid.

206  I' faith, coz, 'tis he.

207  Orlando?

208  Orlando.

209  Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and
210  hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said
211  he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes
212  him here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he?
213  How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see
214  him again? Answer me in one word.

215  You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a
216  word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To
217  say ay and no to these particulars is more than to
218  answer in a catechism.

219  But doth he know that I am in this forest and in
220  man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the
221  day he wrestled?

222  It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the
223  propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my
224  finding him, and relish it with good observance.
225  I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn.

226  It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops
227  forth such fruit.

228  Give me audience, good madam.

229  Proceed.

230  There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight.

231  Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
232  becomes the ground.

233  Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets
234  unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.

235  O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.

236  I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest
237  me out of tune.

238  Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must
239  speak. Sweet, say on.

240  You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?

241  'Tis he: slink by, and note him.

242  I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had
243  as lief have been myself alone.

244  And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you
245  too for your society.

246  God be wi' you: let's meet as little as we can.

247  I do desire we may be better strangers.

248  I pray you, mar no more trees with writing
249  love-songs in their barks.

250  I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading
251  them ill-favouredly.

252  Rosalind is your love's name?

253  Yes, just.

254  I do not like her name.

255  There was no thought of pleasing you when she was
256  christened.

257  What stature is she of?

258  Just as high as my heart.

259  You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been
260  acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them
261  out of rings?

262  Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from
263  whence you have studied your questions.

264  You have a nimble wit: I think 'twas made of
265  Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and
266  we two will rail against our mistress the world and
267  all our misery.

268  I will chide no breather in the world but myself,
269  against whom I know most faults.

270  The worst fault you have is to be in love.

271  'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue.
272  I am weary of you.

273  By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found
274  you.

275  He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you
276  shall see him.

277  There I shall see mine own figure.

278  Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.

279  I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good
280  Signior Love.

281  I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur
282  Melancholy.

Aside to CELIA
283   I will speak to him, like a saucy
284  lackey and under that habit play the knave with him.
285  Do you hear, forester?

286  Very well: what would you?

287  I pray you, what is't o'clock?

288  You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock
289  in the forest.

290  Then there is no true lover in the forest; else
291  sighing every minute and groaning every hour would
292  detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.

293  And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that
294  been as proper?

295  By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with
296  divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles
297  withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops
298  withal and who he stands still withal.

299  I prithee, who doth he trot withal?

300  Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the
301  contract of her marriage and the day it is
302  solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight,
303  Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of
304  seven year.

305  Who ambles Time withal?

306  With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that
307  hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because
308  he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because
309  he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean
310  and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden
311  of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal.

312  Who doth he gallop withal?

313  With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as
314  softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.

315  Who stays it still withal?

316  With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between
317  term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves.

318  Where dwell you, pretty youth?

319  With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the
320  skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.

321  Are you native of this place?

322  As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled.

323  Your accent is something finer than you could
324  purchase in so removed a dwelling.

325  I have been told so of many: but indeed an old
326  religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was
327  in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship
328  too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard
329  him read many lectures against it, and I thank God
330  I am not a woman, to be touched with so many
331  giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their
332  whole sex withal.

333  Can you remember any of the principal evils that he
334  laid to the charge of women?

335  There were none principal; they were all like one
336  another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming
337  monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it.

338  I prithee, recount some of them.

339  No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that
340  are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that
341  abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on
342  their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies
343  on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of
344  Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger I would
345  give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the
346  quotidian of love upon him.

347  I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you tell me
348  your remedy.

349  There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he
350  taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage
351  of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.

352  What were his marks?

353  A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and
354  sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable
355  spirit, which you have not, a beard neglected,
356  which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for
357  simply your having in beard is a younger brother's
358  revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your
359  bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe
360  untied and every thing about you demonstrating a
361  careless desolation; but you are no such man; you
362  are rather point-device in your accoutrements as
363  loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.

364  Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.

365  Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you
366  love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to
367  do than to confess she does: that is one of the
368  points in the which women still give the lie to
369  their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he
370  that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind
371  is so admired?

372  I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
373  Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

374  But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?

375  Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

376  Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves
377  as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and
378  the reason why they are not so punished and cured
379  is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers
380  are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.

381  Did you ever cure any so?

382  Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me
383  his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to
384  woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish
385  youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing
386  and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow,
387  inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every
388  passion something and for no passion truly any
389  thing, as boys and women are for the most part
390  cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe
391  him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep
392  for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor
393  from his mad humour of love to a living humour of
394  madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of
395  the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic.
396  And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon
397  me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's
398  heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't.

399  I would not be cured, youth.

400  I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind
401  and come every day to my cote and woo me.

402  Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me
403  where it is.

404  Go with me to it and I'll show it you and by the way
405  you shall tell me where in the forest you live.
406  Will you go?

407  With all my heart, good youth.

408  Nay you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go?