Open Source Shakespeare

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

Total: 120

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



(stage directions). Enter ORLANDO and ADAM

Orlando. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed
me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st,
charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there
begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and
report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me
rustically at home, or, to speak 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; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding,
they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly
hir'd; 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 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, 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.



Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.

Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me



Oliver. Now, sir! what make you here?

Orlando. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing.



Oliver. What mar you then, sir?

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



Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile.

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



Oliver. Know you where you are, sir?

Orlando. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.



Oliver. Know you before whom, sir?

Orlando. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I 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 my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming
before me is nearer to his reverence.



Oliver. What, boy! [Strikes him]

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



Oliver. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orlando. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir 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 till this other had pull'd out thy
tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself.



Oliver. Let me go, I say.

Orlando. I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father
charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have
train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all
gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
me, and I will no longer endure it; 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.



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

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



Le Beau. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.

Orlando. I attend them with all respect and duty.



Rosalind. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler?

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



Rosalind. 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.

Orlando. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts,
wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent
ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go
with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one
sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is
willing to be so. I shall do my 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.



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

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



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

Orlando. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me
before; but come your ways.



Frederick. No more, no more.

Orlando. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd.



Frederick. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?

Orlando. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de



Celia. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

Orlando. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son- and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.



Celia. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orlando. Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts
Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.



(stage directions). Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA

Orlando. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.



Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love,
Yet such is now the Duke's condition
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.

Orlando. I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this:
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling?



Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter;
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece,
Grounded upon no other argument
But that the people praise her for her virtues
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well.
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

Orlando. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well.
[Exit LE BEAU]
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother.
But heavenly Rosalind! Exit



(stage directions). Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting

Orlando. Who's there?



Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle master!
O my sweet master! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

Orlando. Why, what's the matter?



Adam. O unhappy youth!
Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives.
Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son-
Yet not the son; I will not call him son
Of him I was about to call his father-
Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it. If he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off;
I overheard him and his practices.
This is no place; this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orlando. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?



Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orlando. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,
Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do;
Yet this I will not do, do how I can.
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.



Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown.
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you. Let me be your servant;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

Orlando. O good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion,
And having that do choke their service up
Even with the having; it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent
We'll light upon some settled low content.



Adam. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie
I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

Orlando. Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in thee? Live a
little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth
forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or
bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy
powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the
arm's end. I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee
not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou
diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said!
thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou
liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter;
and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live
anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt



(stage directions). Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn

Orlando. Forbear, and eat no more.



Jaques (lord). Why, I have eat none yet.

Orlando. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.



Duke. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

Orlando. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred,
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say;
He dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are answered.



Duke. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force
More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orlando. I almost die for food, and let me have it.



Duke. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.

Orlando. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;
I thought that all things had been savage here,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
That in this desert inaccessible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look'd on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
If ever sat at any good man's feast,
If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be;
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.



Duke. True is it that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red;
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have
That to your wanting may be minist'red.

Orlando. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.



Duke. Go find him out.
And we will nothing waste till you return.

Orlando. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! Exit



Duke. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.

Orlando. I thank you most for him.



(stage directions). 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 witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree,
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Exit



Jaques (lord). 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 (lord). God buy you; let's meet as little as we can.

Orlando. I do desire we may be better strangers.



Jaques (lord). 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



Jaques (lord). Rosalind is your love's name?

Orlando. Yes, just.



Jaques (lord). I do not like her name.

Orlando. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was



Jaques (lord). What stature is she of?

Orlando. Just as high as my heart.



Jaques (lord). You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been
acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

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



Jaques (lord). 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 (lord). 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 (lord). By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.

Orlando. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see



Jaques (lord). There I shall see mine own figure.

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



Jaques (lord). I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good Signior Love.

Orlando. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur



Rosalind. [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey,
and under that habit play the knave with him.- Do you hear,

Orlando. Very well; what would you?



Rosalind. 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. 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



Rosalind. 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

Orlando. I prithee, who doth he trot withal?



Rosalind. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the
contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd; 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. 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

Orlando. Who doth he gallop withal?



Rosalind. 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. 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. 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 the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled.

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



Rosalind. 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 touch'd with so many giddy offences as he
hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.

Orlando. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid
to the charge of women?



Rosalind. 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. 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-shak'd; I pray you tell me your



Rosalind. 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. 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 ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your
sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you
demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you
are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself
than seeming the lover of any other.

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



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

Orlando. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.



Rosalind. 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 punish'd 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. 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 colour; 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 humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to
forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook
merely monastic. And thus I cur'd 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. 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. 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. And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a
fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to
travel for it too.

Orlando. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!



Rosalind. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look you lisp and wear
strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be
out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making
you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have
swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES] Why, how now, Orlando! where
have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such
another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orlando. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.



Rosalind. Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a
minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the
thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said
of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll
warrant him heart-whole.

Orlando. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.



Rosalind. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had
as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orlando. Of a snail!



Rosalind. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries
his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make
a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orlando. What's that?



Rosalind. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to
your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents
the slander of his wife.

Orlando. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.



Rosalind. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour,
and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I
were your very very Rosalind?

Orlando. I would kiss before I spoke.



Rosalind. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were
gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss.
Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for
lovers lacking- God warn us!- matter, the cleanliest shift is to

Orlando. How if the kiss be denied?



Rosalind. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new

Orlando. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?



Rosalind. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I
should think my honesty ranker than my wit.

Orlando. What, of my suit?



Rosalind. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.
Am not I your Rosalind?

Orlando. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking
of her.



Rosalind. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.

Orlando. Then, in mine own person, I die.



Rosalind. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six
thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man
died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had
his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he
could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love.
Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had
turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for,
good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and,
being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish
chroniclers of that age found it was- Hero of Sestos. But these
are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have
eaten them, but not for love.

Orlando. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I
protest, her frown might kill me.



Rosalind. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I
will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me
what you will, I will grant it.

Orlando. Then love me, Rosalind.



Rosalind. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all.

Orlando. And wilt thou have me?



Rosalind. Ay, and twenty such.

Orlando. What sayest thou?



Rosalind. Are you not good?

Orlando. I hope so.



Rosalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come,
sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand,
Orlando. What do you say, sister?

Orlando. Pray thee, marry us.



Celia. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?

Orlando. I will.



Rosalind. Ay, but when?

Orlando. Why, now; as fast as she can marry us.



Rosalind. Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.'

Orlando. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.



Rosalind. I might ask you for your commission; but- I do take thee,
Orlando, for my husband. There's a girl goes before the priest;
and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.

Orlando. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.



Rosalind. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have
possess'd her.

Orlando. For ever and a day.



Rosalind. Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are
April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when
they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will
be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen,
more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than
an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for
nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you
are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when
thou are inclin'd to sleep.

Orlando. But will my Rosalind do so?



Rosalind. By my life, she will do as I do.

Orlando. O, but she is wise.



Rosalind. Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser,
the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out
at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop
that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Orlando. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit,
whither wilt?'



Rosalind. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your
wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Orlando. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?



Rosalind. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never
take her without her answer, unless you take her without her
tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's
occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will
breed it like a fool!

Orlando. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.



Rosalind. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours!

Orlando. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be
with thee again.



Rosalind. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would
prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less. That
flattering tongue of yours won me. 'Tis but one cast away, and
so, come death! Two o'clock is your hour?

Orlando. Ay, sweet Rosalind.



Rosalind. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and
by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot
of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will
think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow
lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may
be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore
beware my censure, and keep your promise.

Orlando. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my
Rosalind; so, adieu.



(stage directions). Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER

Orlando. 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



Oliver. 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.

Orlando. 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.



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

Orlando. It is my arm.



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

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



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

Orlando. Ay, and greater wonders than that.



Rosalind. 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.

Orlando. 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.



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

Orlando. I can live no longer by thinking.



Rosalind. 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

Orlando. Speak'st thou in sober meanings?



Phebe. And I for Ganymede.

Orlando. And I for Rosalind.



Phebe. And I for Ganymede.

Orlando. And I for Rosalind.



Phebe. And so am I for Ganymede.

Orlando. And so am I for Rosalind.



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

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



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

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



Phebe. Nor I.

Orlando. Nor I. Exeunt



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

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



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

Orlando. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.



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

Orlando. 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.



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

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