Scene 2
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[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 witnessed everywhere.
Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.
[He exits.]

[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 it is a spare life, look you, it fits my
humor 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 saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st
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 laborer. 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 be'st not damned for
this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I
cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape.

[Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.]


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

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, reading a paper]
	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 face 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, [as Ganymede]  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.
	Wintered 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, [as Ganymede]  Peace, you dull fool. I found
them on a tree.

TOUCHSTONE  Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  I'll graft it with you, and
then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be
the earliest fruit i' th' 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, as Aliena, with a writing.]


ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  Peace. Here comes my sister
reading. Stand aside.

CELIA, [as Aliena, 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 filled
	With all graces wide-enlarged.
	   Nature presently distilled
	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, [as Ganymede]  O most gentle Jupiter, what
tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners
withal, and never cried "Have patience,
good people!"

CELIA, [as Aliena]  How now?--Back, friends. Shepherd,
go off a little.--Go with him, sirrah.

TOUCHSTONE  Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable
retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet
with scrip and scrippage.
[Touchstone and Corin exit.]

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. [She shows the paper she
read.] I was never so berhymed 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 color?

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 whooping!

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 might'st 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 I 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 saw'st him? What
said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What
makes he 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
bring'st 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.

[Enter Orlando and Jaques.]

Soft, comes he not here?

ROSALIND  'Tis he. Slink by, and note him.
[Rosalind and Celia step aside.]

JAQUES, [to Orlando]  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-favoredly.

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.	[Jaques exits.]

ROSALIND, [aside to Celia]  I will speak to him like a
saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave
with him. [As Ganymede.] Do you hear, forester?

ORLANDO  Very well. What would you?

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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 Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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 offenses 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, [as Ganymede]  There were none principal.
They were all like one another as halfpence are,
every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow
fault came to match it.

ORLANDO  I prithee recount some of them.

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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 everything
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But
you are no such man. You are rather point-device in
your accouterments, as loving yourself than seeming
the lover of any other.

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

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  But are you so much in love
as your rhymes speak?

ORLANDO  Neither rhyme nor reason can express how
much.

ROSALIND, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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 anything, as boys and women are,
for the most part, cattle of this color; 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 humor of love
to a living humor 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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  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, [as Ganymede]  Nay, you must call me
Rosalind.--Come, sister, will you go?
[They exit.]