Speeches (Lines) for Touchstone
in "As You Like It"

Total: 74

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# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

I,2,194

Mistress, you must come away to your father.

2

I,2,196

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

3

I,2,198

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

4

I,2,204

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

5

I,2,207

By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you
swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn; no 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 pancackes or
that mustard.

6

I,2,213

One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

7

I,2,216

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

8

I,2,231

Or as the Destinies decrees.

9

I,2,233

Nay, if I keep not my rank-

10

I,2,254

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

11

I,2,257

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

12

II,4,724

I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

13

II,4,730

For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you;
yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you
have no money in your purse.

14

II,4,734

Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at
home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

15

II,4,763

And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my
sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to
Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the
cow's dugs that her pretty chapt hands had milk'd; and I remember
the wooing of peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods,
and giving her them again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these
for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers;
but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal
in folly.

16

II,4,773

Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break
my shins against it.

17

II,4,777

And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

18

II,4,781

Holla, you clown!

19

II,4,784

Your betters, sir.

20

III,2,1134

Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good
life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought.
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 humour well; but as there is no more plenty
in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in
thee, shepherd?

21

III,2,1150

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

22

III,2,1153

Then thou art damn'd.

23

III,2,1155

Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on
one side.

24

III,2,1158

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.

25

III,2,1167

Instance, briefly; come, instance.

26

III,2,1170

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.

27

III,2,1174

Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A
more sounder instance; come.

28

III,2,1179

Most shallow man! thou worm's 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.

29

III,2,1184

Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God
make incision in thee! thou art raw.

30

III,2,1190

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 crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram,
out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damn'd for this,
the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how
thou shouldst scape.

31

III,2,1207

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.

32

III,2,1211

For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalinde.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalinde.
Winter garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalinde.
They that reap must sheaf and bind,
Then to cart with Rosalinde.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalinde.
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love's prick and Rosalinde.
This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect
yourself with them?

33

III,2,1227

Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

34

III,2,1232

You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest
judge.
Enter CELIA, with a writing

35

III,2,1272

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

36

III,3,1506

Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats,
Audrey. And how, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature
content you?

37

III,3,1510

I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most
capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

38

III,3,1514

When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's
good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it
strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.
Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.

39

III,3,1520

No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning,
and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may
be said as lovers they do feign.

40

III,3,1524

I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest;
now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst
feign.

41

III,3,1528

No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty
coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

42

III,3,1533

Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were
to put good meat into an unclean dish.

43

III,3,1536

Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness;
sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will
marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext,
the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in
this place of the forest, and to couple us.

44

III,3,1543

Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger
in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no
assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are
odious, they are necessary. It is said: 'Many a man knows no end
of his goods.' Right! Many a man has good horns and knows no end
of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his
own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest
deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore
blessed? No; as a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so
is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare
brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no
skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. Here comes
Sir Oliver.
[Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT]
Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here
under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?

45

III,3,1560

I will not take her on gift of any man.

46

III,3,1563

Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir?
You are very well met. Goddild you for your last company. I am
very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay; pray be
cover'd.

47

III,3,1568

As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and
the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons
bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.

48

III,3,1576

[Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be
married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me
well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me
hereafter to leave my wife.

49

III,3,1581

Come, sweet Audrey;
We must be married or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not-
O sweet Oliver,
O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee.
But-
Wind away,
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee.
Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY

50

V,1,2189

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

51

V,1,2192

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

52

V,1,2198

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.

53

V,1,2204

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

54

V,1,2207

A ripe age. Is thy name William?

55

V,1,2209

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

56

V,1,2211

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

57

V,1,2214

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

58

V,1,2217

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?

59

V,1,2224

Give me your hand. Art thou learned?

60

V,1,2226

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.

61

V,1,2232

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.

62

V,1,2246

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

63

V,3,2361

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

64

V,3,2368

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

65

V,3,2394

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

66

V,3,2398

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

67

V,4,2442

Salutation and greeting to you all!

68

V,4,2446

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
one.

69

V,4,2452

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

70

V,4,2456

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.

71

V,4,2464

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

72

V,4,2468

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.

73

V,4,2481

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.

74

V,4,2485

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.

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