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diff --git a/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt b/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..88dc7b60 --- /dev/null +++ b/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4122 @@ + AS YOU LIKE IT + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DUKE SENIOR living in banishment. + +DUKE FREDERICK his brother, an usurper of his dominions. + + +AMIENS | + | lords attending on the banished duke. +JAQUES | + + +LE BEAU a courtier attending upon Frederick. + +CHARLES wrestler to Frederick. + + +OLIVER | + | +JAQUES (JAQUES DE BOYS:) | sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. + | +ORLANDO | + + +ADAM | + | servants to Oliver. +DENNIS | + + +TOUCHSTONE a clown. + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT a vicar. + + +CORIN | + | shepherds. +SILVIUS | + + +WILLIAM a country fellow in love with Audrey. + + A person representing HYMEN. (HYMEN:) + +ROSALIND daughter to the banished duke. + +CELIA daughter to Frederick. + +PHEBE a shepherdess. + +AUDREY a country wench. + + Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. + (Forester:) + (A Lord:) + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (First Page:) + (Second Page:) + + +SCENE Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the + Forest of Arden. + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Orchard of Oliver's house. + + + [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 sayest, 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 hired: 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 up. + + [Enter OLIVER] + +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 naught 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 your 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! + +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 pulled out thy + tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself. + +ADAM Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's + remembrance, be at accord. + +OLIVER Let me go, I say. + +ORLANDO I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My + father charged you in his will to give me good + education: you have trained 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 will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. + +OLIVER Get you with him, you old dog. + +ADAM Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my + teeth in your service. God be with my old master! + he would not have spoke such a word. + + [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM] + +OLIVER Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will + physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand + crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! + + [Enter DENNIS] + +DENNIS Calls your worship? + +OLIVER Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? + +DENNIS So please you, he is here at the door and importunes + access to you. + +OLIVER Call him in. + + [Exit DENNIS] + + 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. + + [Enter CHARLES] + +CHARLES Good morrow to your worship. + +OLIVER Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the + new court? + +CHARLES There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: + that is, the old duke is banished by his younger + brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords + have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, + whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; + therefore he gives them good leave to wander. + +OLIVER Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be + banished with her father? + +CHARLES O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves + her, being ever from their cradles bred together, + that she would have followed her exile, or have died + to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no + less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and + never two ladies loved as they do. + +OLIVER Where will the old duke live? + +CHARLES They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and + a 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. + +OLIVER What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? + +CHARLES Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a + matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand + that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition + to come in disguised against me to try a fall. + To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that + escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him + well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, + for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I + must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, + out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you + withal, that either you might stay him from his + intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall + run into, in that it is a thing of his own search + and altogether against my will. + +OLIVER Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which + thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had + myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and + have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from + it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles: + it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full + of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's + good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against + me his natural brother: therefore use thy + discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck + as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if + thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not + mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise + against thee by poison, entrap thee by some + treacherous device and never leave thee till he + hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; + for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak + it, there is not one so young and so villanous this + day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but + should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must + blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder. + +CHARLES I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come + to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go + alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: and + so God keep your worship! + +OLIVER Farewell, good Charles. + + [Exit CHARLES] + + Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see + an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, + hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never + schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of + all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much + in the heart of the world, and especially of my own + people, who best know him, that I am altogether + misprised: but it shall not be so long; this + wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that + I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. + + [Exit] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Lawn before the Duke's palace. + + + [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] + +CELIA I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. + +ROSALIND Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; + and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could + teach me to forget a banished father, you must not + learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. + +CELIA Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight + that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, + had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou + hadst been still with me, I could have taught my + love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, + if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously + tempered as mine is to thee. + +ROSALIND Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to + rejoice in yours. + +CELIA You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is + like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt + be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy + father perforce, I will render thee again in + affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break + that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my + sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. + +ROSALIND From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let + me see; what think you of falling in love? + +CELIA Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but + love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport + neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst + in honour come off again. + +ROSALIND What shall be our sport, then? + +CELIA Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from + her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. + +ROSALIND I would we could do so, for her benefits are + mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman + doth most mistake in her gifts to women. + +CELIA 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce + makes honest, and those that she makes honest she + makes very ill-favouredly. + +ROSALIND Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to + Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, + not in the lineaments of Nature. + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE] + +CELIA No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she + not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature + hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not + Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? + +ROSALIND Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when + Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of + Nature's wit. + +CELIA Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but + Nature's; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull + to reason of such goddesses and hath sent this + natural for our whetstone; for always the dulness of + the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, + wit! whither wander you? + +TOUCHSTONE Mistress, you must come away to your father. + +CELIA Were you made the messenger? + +TOUCHSTONE No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. + +ROSALIND Where learned you that oath, fool? + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +CELIA How prove you that, in the great heap of your + knowledge? + +ROSALIND Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. + +TOUCHSTONE Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and + swear by your beards that I am a knave. + +CELIA By our beards, if we had them, thou art. + +TOUCHSTONE 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 pancakes or that mustard. + +CELIA Prithee, who is't that thou meanest? + +TOUCHSTONE One that old Frederick, your father, loves. + +CELIA My father's love is enough to honour him: enough! + speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation + one of these days. + +TOUCHSTONE The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what + wise men do foolishly. + +CELIA By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little + wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery + that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes + Monsieur Le Beau. + +ROSALIND With his mouth full of news. + +CELIA Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. + +ROSALIND Then shall we be news-crammed. + +CELIA All the better; we shall be the more marketable. + + [Enter LE BEAU] + + Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news? + +LE BEAU Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. + +CELIA Sport! of what colour? + +LE BEAU What colour, madam! how shall I answer you? + +ROSALIND As wit and fortune will. + +TOUCHSTONE Or as the Destinies decree. + +CELIA Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. + +TOUCHSTONE Nay, if I keep not my rank,-- + +ROSALIND Thou losest thy old smell. + +LE BEAU You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good + wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. + +ROSALIND You tell us the manner of the wrestling. + +LE BEAU I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please + your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is + yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming + to perform it. + +CELIA Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. + +LE BEAU There comes an old man and his three sons,-- + +CELIA I could match this beginning with an old tale. + +LE BEAU Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. + +ROSALIND With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto all men + by these presents.' + +LE BEAU The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the + duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him + and broke three of his ribs, that there is little + hope of life in him: so he served the second, and + so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, + their father, making such pitiful dole over them + that all the beholders take his part with weeping. + +ROSALIND Alas! + +TOUCHSTONE But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies + have lost? + +LE BEAU Why, this that I speak of. + +TOUCHSTONE Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first + time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport + for ladies. + +CELIA Or I, I promise thee. + +ROSALIND But is there any else longs to see this broken music + in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon + rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? + +LE BEAU You must, if you stay here; for here is the place + appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to + perform it. + +CELIA Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. + + [Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, + CHARLES, and Attendants] + +DUKE FREDERICK Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his + own peril on his forwardness. + +ROSALIND Is yonder the man? + +LE BEAU Even he, madam. + +CELIA Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully. + +DUKE FREDERICK How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither + to see the wrestling? + +ROSALIND Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. + +DUKE FREDERICK You will take little delight in it, I can tell you; + there is such odds in the man. In pity of the + challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he + will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if + you can move him. + +CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. + +DUKE FREDERICK Do so: I'll not be by. + +LE BEAU Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. + +ORLANDO I attend them with all respect and duty. + +ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged 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. + +CELIA Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your + years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's + strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or + knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your + adventure would counsel you to a more equal + enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to + embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. + +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 foiled, there is but one + shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one + dead that was 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. + +ROSALIND The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. + +CELIA And mine, to eke out hers. + +ROSALIND Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you! + +CELIA Your heart's desires be with you! + +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. + +DUKE FREDERICK You shall try but one fall. + +CHARLES No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him + to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him + from a first. + +ORLANDO An you mean to mock me after, you should not have + mocked me before: but come your ways. + +ROSALIND Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! + +CELIA I would I were invisible, to catch the strong + fellow by the leg. + + [They wrestle] + +ROSALIND O excellent young man! + +CELIA If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who + should down. + + [Shout. CHARLES is thrown] + +DUKE FREDERICK No more, no more. + +ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed. + +DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles? + +LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord. + +DUKE FREDERICK Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? + +ORLANDO Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. + +DUKE FREDERICK I would thou hadst been son to some man else: + The world esteem'd thy father honourable, + But I did find him still mine enemy: + Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, + Hadst thou descended from another house. + But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: + I would thou hadst told me of another father. + + [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, train, and LE BEAU] + +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. + +ROSALIND My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, + And all the world was of my father's mind: + Had I before known this young man his son, + I should have given him tears unto entreaties, + Ere he should thus have ventured. + +CELIA Gentle cousin, + Let us go thank him and encourage him: + My father's rough and envious disposition + Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved: + If you do keep your promises in love + But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, + Your mistress shall be happy. + +ROSALIND Gentleman, + + [Giving him a chain from her neck] + + Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, + That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. + Shall we go, coz? + +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. + +ROSALIND He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; + I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? + Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown + More than your enemies. + +CELIA Will you go, coz? + +ROSALIND Have with you. Fare you well. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ORLANDO What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? + I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. + O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! + Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. + + [Re-enter LE BEAU] + +LE BEAU Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you + To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved + 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 lesser 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] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in the palace. + + + [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] + +CELIA Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word? + +ROSALIND Not one to throw at a dog. + +CELIA No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon + curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. + +ROSALIND Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one + should be lamed with reasons and the other mad + without any. + +CELIA But is all this for your father? + +ROSALIND No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how + full of briers is this working-day world! + +CELIA They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in + holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden + paths our very petticoats will catch them. + +ROSALIND I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. + +CELIA Hem them away. + +ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. + +CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. + +ROSALIND O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! + +CELIA O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in + despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of + service, let us talk in good earnest: is it + possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so + strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? + +ROSALIND The duke my father loved his father dearly. + +CELIA Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son + dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, + for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate + not Orlando. + +ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. + +CELIA Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? + +ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love him + because I do. Look, here comes the duke. + +CELIA With his eyes full of anger. + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] + +DUKE FREDERICK Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste + And get you from our court. + +ROSALIND Me, uncle? + +DUKE FREDERICK You, cousin + Within these ten days if that thou be'st found + So near our public court as twenty miles, + Thou diest for it. + +ROSALIND I do beseech your grace, + Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: + If with myself I hold intelligence + Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, + If that I do not dream or be not frantic,-- + As I do trust I am not--then, dear uncle, + Never so much as in a thought unborn + Did I offend your highness. + +DUKE FREDERICK Thus do all traitors: + If their purgation did consist in words, + They are as innocent as grace itself: + Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. + +ROSALIND Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: + Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. + +DUKE FREDERICK Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. + +ROSALIND So was I when your highness took his dukedom; + So was I when your highness banish'd him: + Treason is not inherited, my lord; + Or, if we did derive it from our friends, + What's that to me? my father was no traitor: + Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much + To think my poverty is treacherous. + +CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak. + +DUKE FREDERICK Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, + Else had she with her father ranged along. + +CELIA I did not then entreat to have her stay; + It was your pleasure and your own remorse: + I was too young that time to value her; + But now I know her: if she be a traitor, + Why so am I; we still have slept together, + Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, + And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans, + Still we went coupled and inseparable. + +DUKE FREDERICK She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, + Her very silence and her patience + Speak to the people, and they pity her. + Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; + And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous + When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: + Firm and irrevocable is my doom + Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. + +CELIA Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: + I cannot live out of her company. + +DUKE FREDERICK You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: + If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, + And in the greatness of my word, you die. + + [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords] + +CELIA O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? + Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. + I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. + +ROSALIND I have more cause. + +CELIA Thou hast not, cousin; + Prithee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke + Hath banish'd me, his daughter? + +ROSALIND That he hath not. + +CELIA No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love + Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: + Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? + No: let my father seek another heir. + Therefore devise with me how we may fly, + Whither to go and what to bear with us; + And do not seek to take your change upon you, + To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; + For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, + Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. + +ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go? + +CELIA To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. + +ROSALIND Alas, what danger will it be to us, + Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! + Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. + +CELIA I'll put myself in poor and mean attire + And with a kind of umber smirch my face; + The like do you: so shall we pass along + And never stir assailants. + +ROSALIND Were it not better, + Because that I am more than common tall, + That I did suit me all points like a man? + A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, + A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart + Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-- + We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, + As many other mannish cowards have + That do outface it with their semblances. + +CELIA What shall I call thee when thou art a man? + +ROSALIND I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; + And therefore look you call me Ganymede. + But what will you be call'd? + +CELIA Something that hath a reference to my state + No longer Celia, but Aliena. + +ROSALIND But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal + The clownish fool out of your father's court? + Would he not be a comfort to our travel? + +CELIA He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; + Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, + And get our jewels and our wealth together, + Devise the fittest time and safest way + To hide us from pursuit that will be made + After my flight. Now go we in content + To liberty and not to banishment. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I The Forest of Arden. + + + [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, + like foresters] + +DUKE SENIOR Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, + Hath not old custom made this life more sweet + Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods + More free from peril than the envious court? + Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, + The seasons' difference, as the icy fang + And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, + Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, + Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say + 'This is no flattery: these are counsellors + That feelingly persuade me what I am.' + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; + And this our life exempt from public haunt + Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, + Sermons in stones and good in every thing. + I would not change it. + +AMIENS Happy is your grace, + That can translate the stubbornness of fortune + Into so quiet and so sweet a style. + +DUKE SENIOR Come, shall we go and kill us venison? + And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, + Being native burghers of this desert city, + Should in their own confines with forked heads + Have their round haunches gored. + +First Lord Indeed, my lord, + The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, + And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp + Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. + To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself + Did steal behind him as he lay along + Under an oak whose antique root peeps out + Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: + To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, + That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, + Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, + The wretched animal heaved forth such groans + That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat + Almost to bursting, and the big round tears + Coursed one another down his innocent nose + In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool + Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, + Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, + Augmenting it with tears. + +DUKE SENIOR But what said Jaques? + Did he not moralize this spectacle? + +First Lord O, yes, into a thousand similes. + First, for his weeping into the needless stream; + 'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament + As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more + To that which had too much:' then, being there alone, + Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, + ''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part + The flux of company:' anon a careless herd, + Full of the pasture, jumps along by him + And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques, + 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; + 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look + Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' + Thus most invectively he pierceth through + The body of the country, city, court, + Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we + Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, + To fright the animals and to kill them up + In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. + +DUKE SENIOR And did you leave him in this contemplation? + +Second Lord We did, my lord, weeping and commenting + Upon the sobbing deer. + +DUKE SENIOR Show me the place: + I love to cope him in these sullen fits, + For then he's full of matter. + +First Lord I'll bring you to him straight. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A room in the palace. + + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] + +DUKE FREDERICK Can it be possible that no man saw them? + It cannot be: some villains of my court + Are of consent and sufferance in this. + +First Lord I cannot hear of any that did see her. + The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, + Saw her abed, and in the morning early + They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. + +Second Lord My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft + Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. + Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman, + Confesses that she secretly o'erheard + Your daughter and her cousin much commend + The parts and graces of the wrestler + That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; + And she believes, wherever they are gone, + That youth is surely in their company. + +DUKE FREDERICK Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; + If he be absent, bring his brother to me; + I'll make him find him: do this suddenly, + And let not search and inquisition quail + To bring again these foolish runaways. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Before OLIVER'S house. + + + [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 priser 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 practises. + 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 boisterous 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 saved 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; + And 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 prunest a rotten tree, + That cannot so much as a blossom yield + In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry + But come thy ways; well go along together, + And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, + We'll light upon some settled low content. + +ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee, + To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. + From seventeen years till now almost fourscore + Here lived I, but now live here no more. + At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; + But at fourscore it is too late a week: + Yet fortune cannot recompense me better + Than to die well and not my master's debtor. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV The Forest of Arden. + + + [Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, + and TOUCHSTONE] + +ROSALIND O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! + +TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. + +ROSALIND I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's + apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort + the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show + itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, + good Aliena! + +CELIA I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +ROSALIND Well, this is the forest of Arden. + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. + + [Enter CORIN and SILVIUS] + + Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in + solemn talk. + +CORIN That is the way to make her scorn you still. + +SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! + +CORIN I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. + +SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, + Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover + As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: + But if thy love were ever like to mine-- + As sure I think did never man love so-- + How many actions most ridiculous + Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? + +CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten. + +SILVIUS O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! + If thou remember'st not the slightest folly + That ever love did make thee run into, + Thou hast not loved: + Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, + Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, + Thou hast not loved: + Or if thou hast not broke from company + Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, + Thou hast not loved. + O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! + + [Exit] + +ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, + I have by hard adventure found mine own. + +TOUCHSTONE 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 batlet and the cow's dugs that her + pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the + wooing of a 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. + +ROSALIND Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. + +TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I + break my shins against it. + +ROSALIND Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion + Is much upon my fashion. + +TOUCHSTONE And mine; but it grows something stale with me. + +CELIA I pray you, one of you question yond man + If he for gold will give us any food: + I faint almost to death. + +TOUCHSTONE Holla, you clown! + +ROSALIND Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. + +CORIN Who calls? + +TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir. + +CORIN Else are they very wretched. + +ROSALIND Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. + +CORIN And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. + +ROSALIND I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold + Can in this desert place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: + Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd + And faints for succor. + +CORIN Fair sir, I pity her + And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, + My fortunes were more able to relieve her; + But I am shepherd to another man + And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: + My master is of churlish disposition + And little recks to find the way to heaven + By doing deeds of hospitality: + Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed + Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, + By reason of his absence, there is nothing + That you will feed on; but what is, come see. + And in my voice most welcome shall you be. + +ROSALIND What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? + +CORIN That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, + That little cares for buying any thing. + +ROSALIND I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, + Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock, + And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. + +CELIA And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. + And willingly could waste my time in it. + +CORIN Assuredly the thing is to be sold: + Go with me: if you like upon report + The soil, the profit and this kind of life, + I will your very faithful feeder be + And buy it with your gold right suddenly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V The Forest. + + + [Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others] + + SONG. +AMIENS Under the greenwood tree + Who loves to lie with me, + And turn his merry note + Unto the sweet bird's throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither: + Here shall he see No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES More, more, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck + melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. + More, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you. + +JAQUES I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to + sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos? + +AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me + nothing. Will you sing? + +AMIENS More at your request than to please myself. + +JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; + but that they call compliment is like the encounter + of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, + methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me + the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will + not, hold your tongues. + +AMIENS Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the + duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all + this day to look you. + +JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is + too disputable for my company: I think of as many + matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no + boast of them. Come, warble, come. + + SONG. + Who doth ambition shun + + [All together here] + + And loves to live i' the sun, + Seeking the food he eats + And pleased with what he gets, + Come hither, come hither, come hither: + Here shall he see No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES I'll give you a verse to this note that I made + yesterday in despite of my invention. + +AMIENS And I'll sing it. + +JAQUES Thus it goes:-- + + If it do come to pass + That any man turn ass, + Leaving his wealth and ease, + A stubborn will to please, + Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: + Here shall he see + Gross fools as he, + An if he will come to me. + +AMIENS What's that 'ducdame'? + +JAQUES 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a + circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll + rail against all the first-born of Egypt. + +AMIENS And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI The forest. + + + [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] + +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 any thing 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 lookest 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 any thing in this + desert. Cheerly, good Adam! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VII The forest. + + + [A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and + Lords like outlaws] + +DUKE SENIOR I think he be transform'd into a beast; + For I can no where find him like a man. + +First Lord My lord, he is but even now gone hence: + Here was he merry, hearing of a song. + +DUKE SENIOR If he, compact of jars, grow musical, + We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. + Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him. + + [Enter JAQUES] + +First Lord He saves my labour by his own approach. + +DUKE SENIOR Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, + That your poor friends must woo your company? + What, you look merrily! + +JAQUES A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest, + A motley fool; a miserable world! + As I do live by food, I met a fool + Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, + And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, + In good set terms and yet a motley fool. + 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he, + 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:' + And then he drew a dial from his poke, + And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, + Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: + Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags: + 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, + And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; + And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, + And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; + And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear + The motley fool thus moral on the time, + My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, + That fools should be so deep-contemplative, + And I did laugh sans intermission + An hour by his dial. O noble fool! + A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. + +DUKE SENIOR What fool is this? + +JAQUES O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, + And says, if ladies be but young and fair, + They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, + Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit + After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd + With observation, the which he vents + In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! + I am ambitious for a motley coat. + +DUKE SENIOR Thou shalt have one. + +JAQUES It is my only suit; + Provided that you weed your better judgments + Of all opinion that grows rank in them + That I am wise. I must have liberty + Withal, as large a charter as the wind, + To blow on whom I please; for so fools have; + And they that are most galled with my folly, + They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? + The 'why' is plain as way to parish church: + He that a fool doth very wisely hit + Doth very foolishly, although he smart, + Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, + The wise man's folly is anatomized + Even by the squandering glances of the fool. + Invest me in my motley; give me leave + To speak my mind, and I will through and through + Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, + If they will patiently receive my medicine. + +DUKE SENIOR Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. + +JAQUES What, for a counter, would I do but good? + +DUKE SENIOR Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: + For thou thyself hast been a libertine, + As sensual as the brutish sting itself; + And all the embossed sores and headed evils, + That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, + Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. + +JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride, + That can therein tax any private party? + Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, + Till that the weary very means do ebb? + What woman in the city do I name, + When that I say the city-woman bears + The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? + Who can come in and say that I mean her, + When such a one as she such is her neighbour? + Or what is he of basest function + That says his bravery is not of my cost, + Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits + His folly to the mettle of my speech? + There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein + My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, + Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, + Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, + Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here? + + [Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn] + +ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more. + +JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet. + +ORLANDO Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. + +JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of? + +DUKE SENIOR 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. + +JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. + +DUKE SENIOR 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 SENIOR 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 wiped 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 SENIOR 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 wiped our eyes + Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd: + And therefore sit you down in gentleness + And take upon command what help we have + That to your wanting may be minister'd. + +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 sufficed, + Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, + I will not touch a bit. + +DUKE SENIOR 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 SENIOR Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: + This wide and universal theatre + Presents more woeful pageants than the scene + Wherein we play in. + +JAQUES All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts, + His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, + Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. + And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel + And shining morning face, creeping like snail + Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, + Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad + Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, + Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, + Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, + Seeking the bubble reputation + Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, + In fair round belly with good capon lined, + With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, + Full of wise saws and modern instances; + And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts + Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, + His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide + For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, + Turning again toward childish treble, pipes + And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, + That ends this strange eventful history, + Is second childishness and mere oblivion, + Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. + + [Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM] + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen, + And let him feed. + +ORLANDO I thank you most for him. + +ADAM So had you need: + I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you + As yet, to question you about your fortunes. + Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. + + SONG. +AMIENS Blow, blow, thou winter wind. + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude; + Thy tooth is not so keen, + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. + Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: + Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: + Then, heigh-ho, the holly! + This life is most jolly. + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot: + Though thou the waters warp, + Thy sting is not so sharp + As friend remember'd not. + Heigh-ho! sing, &c. + +DUKE SENIOR If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, + As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, + And as mine eye doth his effigies witness + Most truly limn'd and living in your face, + Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke + That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, + Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, + Thou art right welcome as thy master is. + Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, + And let me all your fortunes understand. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A room in the palace. + + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER] + +DUKE FREDERICK Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: + But were I not the better part made mercy, + I should not seek an absent argument + Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: + Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; + Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living + Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more + To seek a living in our territory. + Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine + Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, + Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth + Of what we think against thee. + +OLIVER O that your highness knew my heart in this! + I never loved my brother in my life. + +DUKE FREDERICK More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; + And let my officers of such a nature + Make an extent upon his house and lands: + Do this expediently and turn him going. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [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] + + [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 + is it 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? + +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 sawest + good manners; if thou never sawest 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 labourer: 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 beest not + damned for this, the devil himself will have no + shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst + 'scape. + +CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. + + [Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading] + +ROSALIND 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 fair 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 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. + Winter 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 Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. + +ROSALIND I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it + with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit + i' the 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, with a writing] + +ROSALIND Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. + +CELIA [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 fill'd + With all graces wide-enlarged: + Nature presently distill'd + 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 O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love + have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never + cried 'Have patience, good people!' + +CELIA How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. + Go with him, sirrah. + +TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; + though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. + + [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE] + +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. I was never so be-rhymed 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 colour? + +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 hooping! + +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 mightst 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 + 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 sawest him? What said + he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes + him 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 bringest + 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. Soft! comes he not here? + + [Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES] + +ROSALIND 'Tis he: slink by, and note him. + +JAQUES 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-favouredly. + +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. + + [Exit JAQUES] + +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, forester? + +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 proper? + +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 withal. + +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 + 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 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 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 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 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 offences 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 There were none principal; they were all like one + another as half-pence 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-shaked: I pray you tell me + your remedy. + +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 ungartered, your + bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 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 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 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 any + thing, 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 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 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 Nay you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind] + +TOUCHSTONE 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? + +AUDREY Your features! Lord warrant us! what features! + +TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most + capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. + +JAQUES [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove + in a thatched house! + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +AUDREY I do not know what 'poetical' is: is it honest in + deed and word? is it a true thing? + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +AUDREY Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical? + +TOUCHSTONE I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art + honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some + hope thou didst feign. + +AUDREY Would you not have me honest? + +TOUCHSTONE No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for + honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. + +JAQUES [Aside] A material fool! + +AUDREY Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods + make me honest. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut + were to put good meat into an unclean dish. + +AUDREY I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. + +TOUCHSTONE 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 promised to meet me in this place + of the forest and to couple us. + +JAQUES [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. + +AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy! + +TOUCHSTONE 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 walled 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 a 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? + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Is there none here to give the woman? + +TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on gift of any man. + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. + +JAQUES [Advancing] + + Proceed, proceed I'll give her. + +TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Master What-ye-call't: how do you, + sir? You are very well met: God 'ild you for your + last company: I am very glad to see you: even a + toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered. + +JAQUES Will you be married, motley? + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + +JAQUES 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: this fellow will but join you + together as they join wainscot; then one of you will + prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. + +TOUCHSTONE [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. + +JAQUES Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. + +TOUCHSTONE '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] + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT 'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them + all shall flout me out of my calling. + + [Exit] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ROSALIND Never talk to me; I will weep. + +CELIA Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider + that tears do not become a man. + +ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep? + +CELIA As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. + +ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling colour. + +CELIA Something browner than Judas's marry, his kisses are + Judas's own children. + +ROSALIND I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. + +CELIA An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. + +ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch + of holy bread. + +CELIA He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun + of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; + the very ice of chastity is in them. + +ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this morning, and + comes not? + +CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. + +ROSALIND Do you think so? + +CELIA Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a + horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do + think him as concave as a covered goblet or a + worm-eaten nut. + +ROSALIND Not true in love? + +CELIA Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. + +ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was. + +CELIA 'Was' is not 'is:' besides, the oath of a lover is + no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are + both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends + here in the forest on the duke your father. + +ROSALIND I met the duke yesterday and had much question with + him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told + him, of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. + But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a + man as Orlando? + +CELIA O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, + speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks + them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of + his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse + but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble + goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly + guides. Who comes here? + + [Enter CORIN] + +CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired + After the shepherd that complain'd of love, + Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, + Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess + That was his mistress. + +CELIA Well, and what of him? + +CORIN If you will see a pageant truly play'd, + Between the pale complexion of true love + And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, + Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, + If you will mark it. + +ROSALIND O, come, let us remove: + The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. + Bring us to this sight, and you shall say + I'll prove a busy actor in their play. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Another part of the forest. + + + [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe; + Say that you love me not, but say not so + In bitterness. The common executioner, + Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, + Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck + But first begs pardon: will you sterner be + Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? + + [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind] + +PHEBE I would not be thy executioner: + I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. + Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye: + 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, + That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, + Who shut their coward gates on atomies, + Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! + Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; + And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: + Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; + Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, + Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers! + Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: + Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains + Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, + The cicatrice and capable impressure + Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, + Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, + Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes + That can do hurt. + +SILVIUS O dear Phebe, + If 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. + +PHEBE 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 I shall not pity thee. + +ROSALIND And why, I 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, I 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? + I see no more in you than in the ordinary + Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, + I 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, + Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain? + You are a thousand times a properer man + Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you + That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children: + 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; + And out of you she sees herself more proper + Than any of her lineaments can show her. + But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, + And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: + For I 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: + Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. + So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well. + +PHEBE Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: + I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. + +ROSALIND He's fallen in love with your foulness and she'll + fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as + she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her + with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? + +PHEBE For no ill will I bear you. + +ROSALIND I pray you, do not fall in love with me, + For I am falser than vows made in wine: + Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, + 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. + Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. + Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, + And be not proud: though all the world could see, + None could be so abused in sight as he. + Come, to our flock. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN] + +PHEBE Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, + 'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe,-- + +PHEBE Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, pity me. + +PHEBE Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. + +SILVIUS Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: + If you do sorrow at my grief in love, + By giving love your sorrow and my grief + Were both extermined. + +PHEBE Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? + +SILVIUS I would have you. + +PHEBE Why, that were covetousness. + Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, + And yet it is not that I bear thee love; + But since that thou canst talk of love so well, + Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, + I will endure, and I'll employ thee too: + But do not look for further recompense + Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. + +SILVIUS So holy and so perfect is my love, + And I in such a poverty of grace, + That I shall think it a most plenteous crop + To glean the broken ears after the man + That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then + A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. + +PHEBE Know'st now the youth that spoke to me erewhile? + +SILVIUS Not very well, but I have met him oft; + And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds + That the old carlot once was master of. + +PHEBE Think not I love him, though I ask for him: + 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well; + But what care I for words? yet words do well + When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. + It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: + But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him: + He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him + Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue + Did make offence his eye did heal it up. + He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall: + His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well: + There was a pretty redness in his lip, + A little riper and more lusty red + Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference + Between the constant red and mingled damask. + There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him + In parcels as I did, would have gone near + To fall in love with him; but, for my part, + I love him not nor hate him not; and yet + I 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 I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: + I marvel why I answer'd not again: + But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. + I'll write to him a very taunting letter, + And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS Phebe, with all my heart. + +PHEBE I'll write it straight; + The matter's in my head and in my heart: + I will be bitter with him and passing short. + Go with me, Silvius. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES] + +JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted + with thee. + +ROSALIND They say you are a melancholy fellow. + +JAQUES I am so; I do love it better than laughing. + +ROSALIND Those that are in extremity of either are abominable + fellows and betray themselves to every modern + censure worse than drunkards. + +JAQUES Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. + +ROSALIND Why then, 'tis good to be a post. + +JAQUES I 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's + contemplation of my travels, in which my often + rumination wraps me m a most humorous sadness. + +ROSALIND A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to + be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see + other men's; then, to have seen much and to have + nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. + +JAQUES Yes, I have gained my experience. + +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! + + [Enter ORLANDO] + +ORLANDO Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! + +JAQUES Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. + + [Exit] + +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. 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 thousandth part of a minute in the + affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid + hath clapped him o' the 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 wooed 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 And I am your Rosalind. + +CELIA It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a + Rosalind of a better leer than you. + +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 + gravelled 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 kiss. + +ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied? + +ROSALIND Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. + +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, + videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains + dashed 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 lived many a fair + year, though Hero had turned 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 drowned and the foolish + coroners 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 I cannot say the words. + +ROSALIND You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando--' + +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 winged. + +ROSALIND Now tell me how long you would have her after you + have possessed 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 + disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and + that when thou art inclined 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 cheque 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. + +ROSALIND Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such + offenders, and let Time try: adieu. + + [Exit ORLANDO] + +CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: + we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your + head, and show the world what the bird hath done to + her own nest. + +ROSALIND O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou + didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But + it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown + bottom, like the bay of Portugal. + +CELIA Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour + affection in, it runs out. + +ROSALIND No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot + of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, + that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes + because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I + am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out + of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and + sigh till he come. + +CELIA And I'll sleep. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters] + +JAQUES Which is he that killed the deer? + +A Lord Sir, it was I. + +JAQUES Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman + conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's + horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have + you no song, forester, for this purpose? + +Forester Yes, sir. + +JAQUES Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it + make noise enough. + + SONG. +Forester What shall he have that kill'd the deer? + His leather skin and horns to wear. + Then sing him home; + + [The rest shall bear this burden] + + Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; + It was a crest ere thou wast born: + Thy father's father wore it, + And thy father bore it: + The horn, the horn, the lusty horn + Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and + here much Orlando! + +CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he + hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to + sleep. Look, who comes here. + + [Enter SILVIUS] + +SILVIUS My errand is to you, fair youth; + My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: + I know not the contents; but, as I guess + By the stern brow and waspish action + Which she did use as she was writing of it, + It bears an angry tenor: pardon me: + I am but as a guiltless messenger. + +ROSALIND Patience herself would startle at this letter + And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: + She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; + She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, + Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will! + Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: + Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, + This is a letter of your own device. + +SILVIUS No, I protest, I know not the contents: + Phebe did write it. + +ROSALIND Come, come, you are a fool + And turn'd into the extremity of love. + I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand. + A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think + That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands: + She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter: + I say she never did invent this letter; + This is a man's invention and his hand. + +SILVIUS Sure, it is hers. + +ROSALIND Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style. + A style for-challengers; why, she defies me, + Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain + Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention + Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect + Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? + +SILVIUS So please you, for I never heard it yet; + Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. + +ROSALIND She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. + + [Reads] + + Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, + That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? + Can a woman rail thus? + +SILVIUS Call you this railing? + +ROSALIND [Reads] + + Why, thy godhead laid apart, + Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? + Did you ever hear such railing? + Whiles the eye of man did woo me, + That could do no vengeance to me. + Meaning me a beast. + If the scorn of your bright eyne + Have power to raise such love in mine, + Alack, in me what strange effect + Would they work in mild aspect! + Whiles you chid me, I did love; + How then might your prayers move! + He that brings this love to thee + Little knows this love in me: + And by him seal up thy mind; + Whether that thy youth and kind + Will the faithful offer take + Of me and all that I can make; + Or else by him my love deny, + And then I'll study how to die. + +SILVIUS Call you this chiding? + +CELIA Alas, poor shepherd! + +ROSALIND Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. 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 I see + love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to + her: that if she love me, I charge her to love + thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless + thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, + hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. + + [Exit SILVIUS] + + [Enter OLIVER] + +OLIVER Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, + Where in the purlieus of this forest stands + A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? + +CELIA West of this place, down in the neighbour 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. + +OLIVER If that an eye may profit by a tongue, + Then should I know you by description; + Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair, + Of female favour, and bestows himself + Like a ripe sister: the woman low + And browner than her brother.' Are not you + The owner of the house I did inquire for? + +CELIA It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. + +OLIVER Orlando doth commend him to you both, + And to that youth he calls his Rosalind + He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? + +ROSALIND I am: what must we understand by this? + +OLIVER Some of my shame; if you will know of me + What man I am, and how, and why, and where + This handkercher was stain'd. + +CELIA I pray you, tell it. + +OLIVER When last the young Orlando parted from you + He left a promise to return again + Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, + Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, + Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside, + And mark what object did present itself: + Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age + And high top bald with dry antiquity, + A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, + Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck + A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, + Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd + The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, + Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, + And with indented glides did slip away + Into a bush: under which bush's shade + A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, + Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, + When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis + The royal disposition of that beast + To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: + This seen, Orlando did approach the man + And found it was his brother, his elder brother. + +CELIA O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; + And he did render him the most unnatural + That lived amongst men. + +OLIVER And well he might so do, + For well I know he was unnatural. + +ROSALIND But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, + Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? + +OLIVER Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; + But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, + And nature, stronger than his just occasion, + Made him give battle to the lioness, + Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling + From miserable slumber I awaked. + +CELIA Are you his brother? + +ROSALIND Wast you he rescued? + +CELIA Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? + +OLIVER 'Twas I; but 'tis not I I do not shame + To tell you what I was, since my conversion + So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. + +ROSALIND But, for the bloody napkin? + +OLIVER By and by. + When from the first to last betwixt us two + Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, + As how I came into that desert place:-- + In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, + Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, + Committing me unto my brother's love; + Who led me instantly unto his cave, + There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm + The lioness had torn some flesh away, + Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted + And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. + Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound; + And, after some small space, being strong at heart, + He sent me hither, stranger as I am, + To tell this story, that you might excuse + His broken promise, and to give this napkin + Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth + That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. + + [ROSALIND swoons] + +CELIA Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! + +OLIVER Many will swoon when they do look on blood. + +CELIA There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! + +OLIVER Look, he recovers. + +ROSALIND I would I were at home. + +CELIA We'll lead you thither. + I pray you, will you take him by the arm? + +OLIVER Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a + man's heart. + +ROSALIND I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would + think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell + your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! + +OLIVER This was not counterfeit: there is too great + testimony in your complexion that it was a passion + of earnest. + +ROSALIND Counterfeit, I assure you. + +OLIVER Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. + +ROSALIND So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. + +CELIA Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw + homewards. Good sir, go with us. + +OLIVER That will I, for I must bear answer back + How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. + +ROSALIND I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend + my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. + +AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old + gentleman's saying. + +TOUCHSTONE A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile + Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the + forest lays claim to you. + +AUDREY Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in + the world: here comes the man you mean. + +TOUCHSTONE 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. + + [Enter WILLIAM] + +WILLIAM Good even, Audrey. + +AUDREY God ye good even, William. + +WILLIAM And good even to you, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy + head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? + +WILLIAM Five and twenty, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William? + +WILLIAM William, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? + +WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God. + +TOUCHSTONE 'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich? + +WILLIAM Faith, sir, so so. + +TOUCHSTONE 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and + yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? + +WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. + +TOUCHSTONE Why, thou sayest 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? + +WILLIAM I do, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned? + +WILLIAM No, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE 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 I am he. + +WILLIAM Which he, sir? + +TOUCHSTONE 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; I will o'errun thee with + policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: + therefore tremble and depart. + +AUDREY Do, good William. + +WILLIAM God rest you merry, sir. + + [Exit] + + [Enter CORIN] + +CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away! + +TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [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 her? + +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. + + [Enter ROSALIND] + +ROSALIND God save you, brother. + +OLIVER And you, fair sister. + + [Exit] + +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 lion. + +ORLANDO Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. + +ROSALIND Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to + swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? + +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 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 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 Rosalind? + +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, conversed 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 tomorrow human + as she is and without any danger. + +ORLANDO Speakest thou in sober meanings? + +ROSALIND By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I + say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your + best array: bid your friends; for if you will be + married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. + + [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] + + Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. + +PHEBE Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, + To show the letter that I writ to you. + +ROSALIND I care not if I have: it 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. + +PHEBE Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. + +SILVIUS It is to be all made of sighs and tears; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS It is to be all made of faith and service; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS It 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 observance; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And so am I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And so am I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And so am I for no woman. + +PHEBE If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +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 Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you me to love you?' + +ORLANDO To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. + +ROSALIND Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling + of Irish wolves against the moon. + + [To SILVIUS] + + I will help you, if I can: + + [To PHEBE] + + I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. + + [To PHEBE] + + I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I'll be + married to-morrow: + + [To ORLANDO] + + I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you + shall be married to-morrow: + + [To SILVIUS] + + I will content you, if what pleases you contents + you, and you shall be married to-morrow. + + [To ORLANDO] + + As you love Rosalind, meet: + + [To SILVIUS] + + as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman, + I'll meet. So fare you well: I have left you commands. + +SILVIUS I'll not fail, if I live. + +PHEBE Nor I. + +ORLANDO Nor I. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +TOUCHSTONE To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will + we be married. + +AUDREY I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is + no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the + world. Here comes two of the banished duke's pages. + + [Enter two Pages] + +First Page Well met, honest gentleman. + +TOUCHSTONE By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. + +Second Page We are for you: sit i' the middle. + +First Page Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or + spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only + prologues to a bad voice? + +Second Page I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two + gipsies on a horse. + + SONG. + It was a lover and his lass, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + That o'er the green corn-field did pass + In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + Between the acres of the rye, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino + These pretty country folks would lie, + In spring time, &c. + + This carol they began that hour, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + How that a life was but a flower + In spring time, &c. + + And therefore take the present time, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; + For love is crowned with the prime + In spring time, &c. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great + matter in the ditty, yet the note was very + untuneable. + +First Page You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost not our time. + +TOUCHSTONE By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear + such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend + your voices! Come, Audrey. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV The forest. + + + [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, + and CELIA] + +DUKE SENIOR 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. + + [Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE] + +ROSALIND Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: + You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, + You will bestow her on Orlando here? + +DUKE SENIOR That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. + +ROSALIND And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? + +ORLANDO That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. + +ROSALIND You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? + +PHEBE That will I, should I die the hour after. + +ROSALIND But if you do refuse to marry me, + You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? + +PHEBE So is the bargain. + +ROSALIND You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? + +SILVIUS Though to have her and death were both one thing. + +ROSALIND I have promised to make all this matter even. + Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; + You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: + Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, + Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: + Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her. + If she refuse me: and from hence I go, + To make these doubts all even. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] + +DUKE SENIOR 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. + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +JAQUES There is, sure, another flood toward, and these + couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of + very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. + +TOUCHSTONE Salutation and greeting to you all! + +JAQUES Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the + motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in + the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. + +TOUCHSTONE If any man doubt that, let him put me to my + purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered + 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. + +JAQUES And how was that ta'en up? + +TOUCHSTONE Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the + seventh cause. + +JAQUES How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. + +DUKE SENIOR I like him very well. + +TOUCHSTONE 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-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor + humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else + will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a + poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster. + +DUKE SENIOR By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. + +TOUCHSTONE According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. + +JAQUES But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the + quarrel on the seventh cause? + +TOUCHSTONE 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 called 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 called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was + not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is + called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not + well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this + is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not + well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the + Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie + Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. + +JAQUES And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? + +TOUCHSTONE I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, + nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we + measured swords and parted. + +JAQUES Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? + +TOUCHSTONE 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 + Countercheque 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 peacemaker; much virtue in If. + +JAQUES Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at + any thing and yet a fool. + +DUKE SENIOR He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under + the presentation of that he shoots his wit. + + [Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA] + + [Still Music] + +HYMEN 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. + +ROSALIND [To DUKE SENIOR] To you I give myself, for I am yours. + + [To ORLANDO] + + To you I give myself, for I am yours. + +DUKE SENIOR If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. + +ORLANDO If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. + +PHEBE If sight and shape be true, + Why then, my love adieu! + +ROSALIND I'll have no father, if you be not he: + I'll have no husband, if you be not he: + Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. + +HYMEN Peace, ho! I bar confusion: + 'Tis I must make conclusion + Of these most strange events: + Here's eight that must take hands + To join in Hymen's bands, + If truth holds true contents. + 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. + Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, + Feed yourselves with questioning; + That reason wonder may diminish, + How thus we met, and these things finish. + + SONG. + Wedding is great Juno's crown: + O blessed bond of board and bed! + 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; + High wedlock then be honoured: + Honour, high honour and renown, + To Hymen, god of every town! + +DUKE SENIOR O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! + Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. + +PHEBE I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; + Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. + + [Enter JAQUES DE BOYS] + +JAQUES DE BOYS Let me have audience for a word or two: + I 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, + Address'd 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 banish'd brother, + And all their lands restored to them again + That were with him exiled. This to be true, + I do engage my life. + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome, young man; + Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: + To one his lands withheld, and to the other + A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. + 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 heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. + +JAQUES Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, + The duke hath put on a religious life + And thrown into neglect the pompous court? + +JAQUES DE BOYS He hath. + +JAQUES To him will I : out of these convertites + There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. + + [To DUKE SENIOR] + + You to your former honour I bequeath; + Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: + + [To ORLANDO] + + You to a love that your true faith doth merit: + + [To OLIVER] + + You to your land and love and great allies: + + [To SILVIUS] + + You to a long and well-deserved bed: + + [To TOUCHSTONE] + + And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage + Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: + I am for other than for dancing measures. + +DUKE SENIOR Stay, Jaques, stay. + +JAQUES To see no pastime I what you would have + I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. + + [Exit] + +DUKE SENIOR Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, + As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. + + [A dance] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + EPILOGUE + + +ROSALIND It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; + but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord + the prologue. If 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. What a case am I in then, that am + neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with + you in the behalf of a good play! I am not + furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not + become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin + with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love + you bear to men, to like as much of this play as + please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love + you bear to women--as I perceive by your simpering, + none of you hates them--that between you and the + women the play may please. If I were a woman I + would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased + me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I + defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good + beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my + kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. + + [Exeunt] diff --git a/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt.compressed b/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt.compressed Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 00000000..3a762110 --- /dev/null +++ b/web/server/h2o/libh2o/deps/brotli/tests/testdata/asyoulik.txt.compressed |