...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 l 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 l cured him.
And this way will l 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 it.
l would not be cured, youth.
l would cure you if you would but call me Rosalind...
...and come every day and woo me.
Now, by the faith of my love, l will.
-Will you? -With all my heart, good youth.
Nay, you must call me Rosalind.
l will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey?
Am l the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you?
Your features.
Lord warrant us.
What features?
l am here with thee and thy goats...
...as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
Truly, l would the gods had made thee poetical.
l do not know what ''poetical'' is.
Is it honest in deed and word?
-Is it a true thing? -No, truly.
For the truest poetry is the most feigning...
...and lovers are given to poetry.
And what they swear in poetry it may be said...
...as lovers they do feign.
Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?
l do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest.
Now if thou wert a poet...
...l might have some hope thou didst feign.
-Would you not have me honest? -No, truly.
Unless thou wert hard-favored.
For honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
Well, l am not fair.
And therefore l pray the gods make me honest.
Truly, to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put meat into an unclean dish.
l am not a slut!
Though l thank the gods l am foul.
Well, praise be the gods for thy foulness. Sluttishness may come hereafter.
But be it as it may be...
...l will marry thee.
And to that end l have been with the vicar of the next village...
...who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us.
l would fain see this meeting.
Well, the gods give us joy.
Courage. As horns are odious, they are necessary.
You are well met. Will you dispatch us here or shall we follow you to your chapel?
Is there none here to give the woman?
l will not take her on gift of any man.
Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
Proceed. Proceed. l'll give her.
Good even, good Monsieur What-You-Call-lt?
How do you, sir? You are very well met.
God 'ild you for your last company. l am very glad to see you.
Even a toy in hand here, sir.
Nay, pray be covered.
Will you be married, motley?
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.
And will you, being a man of your breeding...
...be married under a bush like a beggar?
Get you to church...
...and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is.
l am not in the mind but l were better to be married of him than of another.
For he is not like to marry me well.
Not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.
Go thou with me and let me counsel thee.
We must be married.
-Never talk to me, l will weep. -Do, l prithee.
But have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man.
But have l not cause to weep?
As good cause as one would desire, therefore weep.
But why did he swear he would come this morning and comes not?
Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Do you think so? Not true in love?
Yes, when he is in, but l think he is not in.
You have heard him swear downright he was.
''Was'' is not ''is.''
Mistress and master...
...you have oft inquired after the shepherd that complained of love...
...who you saw sitting by me on the turf...
...praising the proud, disdainful shepherdess that was his mistress.
Well? And what of him?
lf you will see a pageant of true love, go hence a while.
Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me.
Do not, Phoebe, say that you love me not, but say not so in bitterness.
l would not be thy executioner. l fly thee, for l would not injure thee.
lf ever, as that ever may be near...
...you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy...
...then shall you know the wounds invisible that love's keen arrows make.
But till that time, come not thou near me.
And when that time comes, afflict me with thy mocks.
Pity me not, as till that time l shall not pity thee.
And why, l pray you? Who might be your mother...
...that you insult, exult, and all at once, over the wretched?
What though you have no beauty--
As, by my faith, l see no more in you than without candle may go dark to bed.
--must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this?
Why do you look on me?
'Od's my little life.
l think she means to tangle my eyes too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair...
...your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream...
...that can entame my spirits to your worship!
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her?
You are a thousand times a properer man than she a woman.
'Tis not her glass but you that flatters her.
But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees!
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.
For l must tell you friendly in your ear:
Sell when you can. You are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer.
Sweet youth, l pray you, chide a year together.
l had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
He's fallen in love with your foulness.
And she'll fall in love with my anger.
l pray you, do not fall in love with me...
...for l am falser than vows made in wine.
Besides...
...l like you not.
Dead shepherd, now l find thy saw of might:
''Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?''
Sweet Phoebe.
-What sayest thou, Silvius? -Sweet Phoebe, pity me.
Why, l am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.
lf you do sorrow at my grief in love...
...by giving love your sorrow and my grief were both extermined.
Thou hast my love. Is not that neighborly?
l would have you!
Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?
Not very well, but l have met him oft.
Think not l love him, though l ask for him.
'Tis but a peevish boy.
Yet he talks well.
lt is a pretty youth-- Not very pretty.
There was a pretty redness in his lip.
A little riper and more lusty red than that mixed in his cheek.
'Twas just the difference betwixt the constant red and the mingled damask.
l have more cause to hate him than to love him.
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black.
And now l am remembered, scorned at me. l marvel why l answered not again.
l'll write to him a very taunting letter...
...and thou shalt bear it, wilt thou, Silvius?
Phoebe...
...with all my heart.
l'll write it straight. The matter's in my head and in mine heart.
l'll be bitter with him and passing short. Go with me, Silvius.
We shall find a time, Audrey.
Patience, gentle Audrey.
Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.
Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.
He hath no interest in me in the world.
lt is meat and drink to me to see a clown.
William.
-Good even, Audrey. -God ye good e'en, William.
-And good even to you, sir. -Good even, gentle friend.
Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee, be covered.
How old are you, friend?
-Five-and-twenty, sir. -A ripe age.
Is thy name William?
-William, sir. -A fair name.
-Wast born in the forest here? -Aye, sir, l thank God.
''Thank God,'' good answer. Art rich?
Faith, sir, so-so.
''So-so'' is good, very good, very excellent good.
And yet it is not. lt is but so-so.
-Art thou wise? -Aye, sir. l have a pretty wit.
That's it. Why, thou sayest well.
l do now remember a saying:
''The fool doth think he is wise...
...but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.''
You do love this maid?
l 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 poured out of a 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 l am he.
-Which he, sir? -He, sir, that must marry this woman!
Therefore, you clown, abandon the society of this female...
...or, clown, l kill thee.
l will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways! Therefore, depart.
-Do, good William. -God rest ye merry, sir.
Trip, Audrey. Trip, Audrey!
l prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
l am so. l do love it better than laughing.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows...
...and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Why? 'Tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Why, then, 'tis good to be a post.
l have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation...
...nor the musician's, which is fantastical...
...nor the courtier's, which is proud...
...nor the soldier's, which is ambitious...
...nor the lawyer's, which is politic...
...nor the lady's, which is nice...
...nor the lover's, which is all these.
But it is a melancholy of mine own...
...compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects...
...and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels...
...in which my often rumination wraps me...
...in a most humorous sadness.
A traveler. By my faith, you've great reason to be sad.
l fear you've sold your own lands to see other men's.
To have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.
Yes.
l have gained my experience.
l'd rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad.
And to travel for it too.
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind.
Nay, then, God by you, and you talk in blank verse.
Farewell, Monsieur Traveler.
Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while?
You a lover?
And you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.
My fair Rosalind, l come within an hour of my promise.
Break an hour's promise in love?
-Pardon me, dear Rosalind. -Nay, and you be so tardy.
Come no more in my sight. l had as lief be wooed of a snail.
Of a snail?
Aye, of a snail.
For though he comes slowly...
...he carries his house on his head.
And l am your Rosalind.
lt pleases him to call you so...
...but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
Come, woo me. Woo me.
For now l am in a holiday humor and like enough to consent.
What would you say to me now an l were your very, very Rosalind?
l would kiss before l spoke.
Nay, you were better speak first.
Am not l your Rosalind?
l take some joy to say you are because l would be talking of her.
Well, in her person l say l will not have you.
Then in mine own person l die.
Men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them...
...but not for love.
l would not have my right Rosalind of this mind.
For l protest her frown might kill me.
By this hand, it will not kill a fly.
But come, now l will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition.
And ask me what you will, l will grant it.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Yes, faith, will l, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
-And wilt thou have me? -Aye, and 20 such.
What sayest thou?
-Are you not good? -l hope so.
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?
Pray thee, marry us.
l cannot say the words.
You must begin.
''Will you, Orlando--?''
Go to.
Will you, Orlando...
...have to wife this Rosalind?
l will.
l do take thee, Orlando...
...for my husband.
Now tell me how long you would have her...
...after you have possessed her.
Forever and a day.
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.
l will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen.
More clamorous than a parrot against rain.
More newfangled than an ape.
More giddy in my desires than a monkey.
l will weep for nothing...
...like Diana in the fountain, and l will do that when you are disposed to be merry.
l will laugh like a hyena, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.
But will my Rosalind do so?
By my life, she will do as l do.
O, but she is wise.
By 2:00, Rosalind, l'll be with thee again.
Alas, dear love, l cannot lack thee two hours.
l must attend the duke at dinner. By 2:00 l will be with thee again.
Aye, go your ways. Go your ways.
l knew what you would prove. My friends told me as much...
...and l thought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me.
-Two o'clock is your hour? -Aye, sweet Rosalind.
You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate.
O coz, coz, coz...
...my pretty little coz...
...that thou didst know how many fathom deep...
...l am in love.
But it cannot be sounded.
My affection hath an unknown bottom...
...like the Bay of Portugal.
l'll tell thee, Aliena...
...l cannot be out of the sight of Orlando.
l'll go find a shadow...
...and sigh till he come.
And l'll sleep.
Rosalind.
He that brings this love to thee Little knows this love in me
-Phoebe did write it? -Wilt thou love such a woman?
What? To make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee?
Not to be endured. Well, go your way to her...
...for l see love hath made thee a tame snake.
And say this to her...
...that if she love me, l charge her to love thee.
lf she will not, l will never have her unless thou entreat for her.
lf you be a true lover, hence, and not a word.
Pray you, if you know...
...where in the purlieus of this forest stands a sheepcote...
...fenced about with olive trees?
West of this place.
Down in the neighbor bottom.
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream.
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself.
There's none within.
lf that an eye may profit by a tongue...
...then l should know you.
Are not you the owner of the house l did inquire for?
lt is no boast, being asked, to say we are.
Orlando...
...doth commend him to you both.
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind...
...he sends this bloody napkin.
Are you he?
Go on.
-Are you his brother? -Was't you he rescued?
Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
'Twas l, but 'tis not l.
Brief, l recovered him, bound up his wound, and after some small space...
...being strong at heart, he sent me hither, stranger as l am, to tell this story...
...that you might excuse his broken promise.
l pray you tell your brother how well l counterfeited, heigh-ho.
This was not counterfeit.
There it too great testimony in your complexion.
-lt was a passion of earnest. -Counterfeit, l assure you.
Well, then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.
So l do, but in faith, l should have been a woman by right.
Come, you look paler and paler.
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...
...l love Aliena.
Say with her that she loves me.
Consent with both that we may enjoy each other.
lt shall be to your good.
For our father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's...
...will l estate upon you...
...and here live and die a shepherd.
You have my consent.
Let your wedding be tomorrow.
Thither will l invite the duke and all's contented followers.
Go you and prepare Aliena.
My dear Orlando.
How it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.
lt is my arm.
l thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
Did your brother tell you how l counterfeited to swoon...
...when he showed me your handkerchief?
Aye.
And greater wonders than that.
Your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked...
...no sooner looked but they loved...
...no sooner loved but they sighed...
...no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason...
...no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.
And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
They shall be married tomorrow, and l 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 l tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness...
...by how much l shall think my brother happy...
...in having what he wishes for.
Why, then, tomorrow l cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?
l can live no longer by thinking.
l will weary you then no longer with idle talking.
Believe then, if you please...
...that l can do strange things.
l have, since l was 3 year old, conversed with a magician...
...most profound in his art and yet not damnable.
lf you do love Rosalind...
...so near the heart as your gesture cries it out...
...when your brother marries Aliena...
...shall you marry her.
l 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 tomorrow, human as she is...
...and without any danger.
Speak'st thou in sober meanings?
lf you will be married tomorrow, you shall...
...and to Rosalind, if you will.
You have done me much ungentleness to show the letter that l writ to you.
l care not if l have.
lt is my study to seem despiteful and ungentle to you.
You are there followed by a faithful shepherd.
Look upon him, love him. He worships you.
Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
lt is to be all made of sighs and tears, and so am l for Phoebe.
-And l for Ganymede. -And l for Rosalind.
And l for no woman.
lt is to be all made of faith and service, and so am l for Phoebe.
-And l for Ganymede. -And l for Rosalind.
And l for no woman.
lt 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 l for Phoebe.
-And so am l for Ganymede. -And so am l for Rosalind.
And so am l for no woman.
lf this be so, why blame you me to love you?
Who do you speak too, ''Why blame you me to love you?''
To her that is not here, nor doth not hear!
-Ganymede! -Phoebe!
Pray you, no more of this!
'Tis like the howling of lrish wolves against the moon!
l will help you if l can.
l would love you if l could.
Tomorrow meet here all together.
l will marry you if ever l marry woman, and l'll be married tomorrow.
l will satisfy you if ever l satisfy man, and you shall be married tomorrow.
l will content you, if what pleases you contents you...
...and you shall be married tomorrow.
As you love Rosalind, meet.
As you love Phoebe, meet.
And as l love no woman, l'll meet.
So fare you well. l have left you commands.
-l'll not fail, if l live. -Nor l.
Nor l.
Welcome, welcome.
He is in the Forest of Arden...
...and many merry men with him.
And there they live like the old Robin Hood of England.
They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day...
...and fleet the time carelessly...
...as they did in the golden world.
Dost thou believe, Orlando...
...that the boy can do all this that he hath promised?
l sometimes do believe and sometimes do not...
...as those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
l do remember in this shepherd boy...
...some lively touches of my daughter's favor.
My lord, the first time that l ever saw him...
...methought he was a brother to your daughter.
There is sure another flood toward...
...and these couples are coming to the ark.
Here comes a pair of very strange beasts.
Audrey.
Salutation and greeting to you all.
l 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-favored thing, sir, but mine own.
A poor humor of mine, sir, to take that, that no man else will.
Is not this a rare fellow, my lord?
He's as good at anything and yet a fool.
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 you l give myself, for l am yours.
lf there be truth in sight...
...you are my daughter.
lf there be truth in sight...
...you are my Rosalind.
l'll have no father, if you be not he.
l'll have no husband, if you be not he.
Nor ne'er-wed woman, if you be not she.
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.
Let me have audience for a word or two.
l 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...
...addressed 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 banished brother...
...and all their lands restored to them again that were with him exiled.
This to be true...
...l do engage my life.
Welcome, young man.
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding.
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 endured 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 heaped in joy to the measure fall!
Sir...
...by your patience.
lf l heard you rightly, the duke hath put on a religious life...
...and thrown into neglect the pompous court?
He hath.
To him will l.
Out of these convertites...
...there is much matter to be heard and learned.
You to your former honor l bequeath.
Your patience and your virtue well deserves it.
So...
...to your pleasures.
l am for other than for dancing measures.
Stay. Jaques, stay.
To see no pastime l.
What you would have...
...l'll stay to know at some abandoned cave.
Proceed. Proceed.
We'll so begin these rites...
...as we do trust they'll end in true delights!
lt is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue...
...but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue.
lf 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.
My way is to conjure you.
And l'll begin with the women.
l charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men...
...to like as much of this play as please you.
And l charge you...
...O men, for the love you bear to women--
As l perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them.
--that between you and the women the play may please.
lf l were a woman...
...l would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me...
...complexions that liked me and breaths that l defied not.
And, l'm sure, as many of you as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths...
...will, for my kind offer, when l make curtsy...
...bid me...
...farewell.
And cut.
Sub By Shdkpr2008