As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 2

Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love. And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind, these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere. Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.

Hang there, my poem, as proof of my love. And you, three-times-crowned queen of the night, look down with your chaste eye, from your pale sphere above, on the name of your huntress, who rules my whole life. Oh Rosalind, these trees will be my books, and I'll write my thoughts in their bark, so that every eye that looks in this forest will see your goodness attested everywhere. Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree the beautiful, the chaste, the indescribable woman.

And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone?

And how do you like this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?

Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

Honestly, shepherd, considered in itself, it's a good life; but considered as a shepherd's life, it's worthless. Considered as being solitary, I like it very much; but considered as being cut off from company, it's a very miserable life. Now, considered as being out in the fields, it suits me well; but considered as not being at court, it's dull. Since it's a frugal life, you see, it fits my temperament well; but since there's no abundance in it, it goes very much against my appetite. Have you any philosophy in you, shepherd?

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.

Nothing more than this: that I know the sicker a man gets, the worse he feels; and that the man who lacks money, resources and contentment is short of three good friends; that it's the nature of rain to wet and of fire to burn; that good pasture makes sheep fat; and that a major cause of night is the absence of the sun; that a man who has gained no sense either by birth or by education can blame his upbringing or else comes from a very stupid family.

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

A man like that is a natural philosopher. Were you ever at court, shepherd?

No, truly.

No, truly.

Then thou art damned.

Then you're damned.

Nay, I hope.

No, I hope not.

Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.

Truly, you're damned, like a badly roasted egg, all on one side.

For not being at court? Your reason.

For not having been at court? Give me your reason.

Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

Well, if you were never at court, you never saw good manners; if you never saw good manners, then your manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. You're in a dangerous condition, shepherd.

Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour 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.

Not at all, Touchstone. The things that count as good manners at court are just as ridiculous in the country as country behaviour is laughable at court. You told me that at court you don't greet people without kissing your own hands. That politeness would be filthy if courtiers were shepherds.

Instance, briefly. Come, instance.

Give an example, briefly. Come on, an example.

Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy.

Well, we're constantly handling our ewes, and their fleeces, you know, are greasy.

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.

Well, don't your courtiers' hands sweat? And isn't the grease of a sheep as healthy as the sweat of a man? Weak, weak. A better example, I say. Come on.

Besides, our hands are hard.

Besides, our hands are rough.

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

Your lips will feel them all the sooner. Weak again. A sounder example, come on.

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.

And they're often smeared with tar from treating our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? Courtiers' hands are perfumed with civet.

Most shallow man! Thou worm’s meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise and perpend. Civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

What a very shallow man you are! You're food for worms compared with a really good piece of flesh! Learn from the wise and consider carefully: civet has a lower origin than tar, being the very unclean discharge of a cat. Improve your example, shepherd.

You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll rest.

Your wit is too courtly for me. I'll give up.

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

Will you give up damned? God help you, shallow man! God cut you open, you're uncooked.

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.

Sir, I'm an honest working man. I earn what I eat and get what I wear, I hate no one, I envy no man's happiness, I'm glad of other men's good fortune and put up with my own troubles; and the greatest thing I take pride in is seeing my ewes graze and my lambs suckle.

That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape.

That's another plain sin of yours, bringing the ewes and the rams together and trying to make your living out of the mating of livestock; acting as pimp to a bell-wether and handing over a year-old female lamb to some crooked-headed, old, cuckold of a ram, in a completely unsuitable match. If you're not damned for this, the devil himself wants no shepherds. I can't see how else you could escape.

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

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

[Reads.] From the east to western Inde No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lined Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind.

[She reads.] From the east to the Indies of the west, no jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, carried up on the wind, spreads the name of Rosalind through the whole world. All the most beautifully drawn pictures are only black compared to Rosalind. Let no face be remembered except the beauty of Rosalind.

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.

I could rhyme like that for you eight years running, leaving out only dinners and suppers and hours of sleep. It's the exact jog-trot of butter-women going in line to market.

Out, fool!

Get away, fool!

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?

Here's a sample: If a male deer is short of a female, let him go looking for Rosalind. If a cat will chase its own kind, you can be sure so will Rosalind. Winter clothes must be lined, and so must slim Rosalind. Those who reap must bundle and tie, then off to the cart with Rosalind. The sweetest nut has the sourest shell, and Rosalind is that sort of nut. The man who wants to find the sweetest rose must find love's thorn, and Rosalind. That's the true broken canter of verse-making. Why do you infect yourself with such stuff?

Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.

Be quiet, you stupid fool. I found them on a tree.

Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Truly, that tree produces bad fruit.

I’ll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar.

I'll graft it with you, and then I'll have grafted it with a medlar. Then it will bear the earliest fruit in the country, because you'll be rotten before you're half ripe, and that's exactly the quality of the medlar.

You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.

You've had your say; but whether it was wise or not, let the forest decide.

Peace, here comes my sister, reading. Stand aside.

Quiet, here comes my sister, reading. Stand out of the way.

[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 streching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some, of violated vows ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend. But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence’ end, Will I “Rosalinda” write, Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show. Therefore heaven nature charged That one body should be filled With all graces wide-enlarged. Nature presently distilled Helen’s cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra’s majesty; Atalanta’s better part, Sad Lucretia’s modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod was devised, Of many faces, eyes, and hearts To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.

[She reads.] Why should this place be a desert? Because it has no people? No! I'll hang tongues on every tree that will speak civilized sayings. Some will tell how briefly the life of a man runs its wandering pilgrimage, how the stretch of a hand's span encloses the whole sum of his years; some will tell of broken vows between the souls of friend and friend. But on the fairest branches, and at the end of every sentence, I will write "Rosalinda," teaching everyone who reads to recognize the essence of every spirit that heaven wished to display in one small form. So heaven ordered nature that a single body should be filled with all graces spread wide. Nature at once distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's finer quality, and grave Lucretia's modesty. So Rosalind was designed by a heavenly council out of many parts, to have the most precious touches of many faces, eyes, and hearts. Heaven willed that she should have these gifts, and that I should live and die her slave.

O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!”

Oh most kind Jupiter, what a boring sermon on love you've worn out your congregation with, and never once called out, "Be patient, good people!"

How now! Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah.

What's this! Stand back, friends. Shepherd, move off a little. You go with him, fellow.

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

Come, shepherd, let's make an honourable retreat — not with bag and baggage, maybe, but with pouch and pouchage.

Didst thou hear these verses?

Did you hear these verses?

O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

Oh yes, I heard them all, and more besides, because some of them had more feet in them than the lines could carry.

That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses.

That doesn't matter. The feet could carry the lines.

Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

Yes, but the feet were lame and couldn't carry themselves without the verse, and so they stood lamely in the verse.

But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

But did you hear them without being amazed that your name should be hung up and carved on these trees?

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 berhymed since Pythagoras’ time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

I was seven of the nine days' wonder over it before you came; because look here at what I found on a palm tree. I've never been rhymed at so much since Pythagoras' time, when I was an Irish rat — which I can barely remember.

Trow you who hath done this?

Do you know who's done this?

Is it a man?

Is it a man?

And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour?

And with a chain around his neck that you once wore. Are you blushing?

I prithee, who?

Please, who?

O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter.

Oh Lord, Lord, it's a hard thing for friends to meet; but mountains can be shifted by earthquakes and so come together.

Nay, but who is it?

No, but who is it?

Is it possible?

Is it possible?

Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

No, please, now, with the most pleading urgency, tell me who it is.

O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!

Oh amazing, amazing, most amazingly amazing, and amazing all over again, and beyond that, past all shouting about!

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 narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at once or none at all. I prithee take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.

Oh, my poor face! Do you think that just because I'm dressed up like a man I have a man's jacket and breeches in my character too? One more inch of delay is an ocean-wide voyage of exploration. Please tell me who it is, quickly, and speak fast. I wish you could stammer, so that you might pour this hidden man out of your mouth the way wine comes out of a narrow-necked bottle — either too much at once or none at all. Please take the cork out of your mouth so I can drink your news.

So you may put a man in your belly.

Then you might put a man inside your belly.

Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

Is he one of God's making? What sort of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

Nay, he hath but a little beard.

No, he has only a little beard.

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.

Well, God will send more if the man is grateful. I'll wait for his beard to grow, so long as you don't make me wait to know whose chin it is.

It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in an instant.

It's young Orlando, who tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in the same moment.

Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true maid.

No, to the devil with joking! Speak with a serious face, like an honest girl.

I’ faith, coz, ’tis he.

Honestly, cousin, it's him.

Orlando?

Orlando?

Orlando.

Orlando.

Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw’st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.

Oh no, what am I going to do with my jacket and breeches? What was he doing when you saw him? What did he say? How did he look? What was he wearing? What is he doing here? Did he ask for me? Where is he staying? How did he say goodbye to you? And when will you see him again? Answer me in one word.

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.

You'll have to lend me Gargantua's mouth first. That's a word too big for any mouth of our present size. To say yes and no to all these details is more than answering a catechism.

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?

But does he know that I'm in this forest, and dressed as a man? Does he look as fresh as he did the day he wrestled?

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.

It's as easy to count specks of dust as to settle a lover's questions. But have a taste of how I found him, and savour it with careful attention. I found him under a tree, like a fallen acorn.

It may well be called Jove’s tree when it drops forth such fruit.

It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops fruit like that.

Give me audience, good madam.

Listen to me, my good lady.

Proceed.

Go on.

There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight.

There he lay, stretched out like a wounded knight.

Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.

Though it's a pity to see such a sight, it suits the ground very well.

Cry “holla!” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.

Call "whoa!" to your tongue, please. It's prancing at the wrong moments. He was equipped like a hunter.

O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart.

Oh, a bad sign! He comes to kill my heart.

I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune.

I'd like to sing my song without an accompaniment. You're putting me out of tune.

Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Don't you know I'm a woman? When I have a thought, I have to speak it. Go on, sweet one.

You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?

You're making me lose my place. Quiet — isn't that him coming?

’Tis he! Slink by, and note him.

It's him! Slip aside, and watch him.

I thank you for your company but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Thank you for your company, but honestly, I would just as gladly have been by myself.

And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.

So would I, but still, for politeness' sake, I thank you too for your company.

God be wi’ you, let’s meet as little as we can.

God be with you; let's meet as seldom as we can.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

I hope we may become better strangers.

I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.

Please, don't spoil any more trees by writing love songs in their bark.

I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Please, don't spoil any more of my verses by reading them so badly.

Rosalind is your love’s name?

Rosalind is the name of the woman you love?

Yes, just.

Yes, exactly.

I do not like her name.

I don't like her name.

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

Nobody was thinking about pleasing you when she was christened.

What stature is she of?

How tall is she?

Just as high as my heart.

Exactly as high as my heart.

You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings?

You're full of clever answers. Haven't you been friendly with goldsmiths' wives, and learned these by heart off their rings?

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

No; I answer you in the style of a painted wall hanging, which is where you got your questions from.

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.

You have a quick wit. I think it was made out of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? And the two of us will complain about our mistress the world and all our misery.

I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.

I won't scold any living creature in the world except myself, and I know more faults in myself than in anyone.

The worst fault you have is to be in love.

The worst fault you have is being in love.

’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

It's a fault I wouldn't trade for your best virtue. I'm tired of you.

By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.

Honestly, I was looking for a fool when I found you.

He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him.

He's drowned in the brook. Just look in, and you'll see him.

There I shall see mine own figure.

There I'll see my own reflection.

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

Which I take to be either a fool or a zero.

I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love.

I won't stay with you any longer. Goodbye, good Signior Love.

I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.

I'm glad you're going. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.

I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester?

I'll speak to him like a cheeky servant boy, and in that disguise play tricks on him. Do you hear me, forester?

Very well. What would you?

Very well. What do you want?

I pray you, what is’t o’clock?

Tell me, please, what time is it by the clock?

You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s no clock in the forest.

You should ask me what time of day it is. There's no clock in the forest.

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.

Then there's no true lover in the forest, or else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would mark the slow foot of time as well as a clock does.

And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper?

And why not the quick foot of time? Wouldn't that have been just as fitting?

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.

Not at all, sir. Time moves at different speeds with different people. I'll tell you who time walks slowly with, who time trots with, who time gallops with, and who it stands still with.

I prithee, who doth he trot withal?

Tell me, please, who does it trot with?

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.

Well, it trots roughly with a young girl between the signing of her marriage contract and the day the wedding is performed. If the gap is only a week, time's pace is so rough that it seems as long as seven years.

Who ambles time withal?

Who does time amble with?

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.

With a priest who doesn't know Latin and a rich man who doesn't have gout; because the one sleeps easily since he can't study, and the other lives cheerfully since he feels no pain; the one free of the burden of thin, wasting learning, the other knowing nothing of the burden of heavy, wearisome poverty. Time ambles with these.

Who doth he gallop withal?

Who does it gallop with?

With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.

With a thief on his way to the gallows; for though he goes as slowly as a foot can be set down, he thinks he gets there too soon.

Who stays it still withal?

Who does it stand still with?

With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves.

With lawyers during the court holidays; because they sleep between one session and the next, and so they don't notice how time moves.

Where dwell you, pretty youth?

Where do you live, pretty young man?

With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.

With this shepherdess, my sister, here on the edges of the forest, like fringe on the hem of a petticoat.

Are you native of this place?

Were you born in this place?

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

As much as the rabbit you see living where she was born.

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

Your way of speaking is rather more refined than you could have acquired in such an out-of-the-way place.

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.

Many people have told me that. But in fact an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak; in his youth he was a man of the city, one who knew courtship all too well, because it was there that he fell in love. I have heard him deliver many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, and so not tainted with all those flighty faults that he generally charged their whole sex with.

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

Can you remember any of the chief evils he accused women of?

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

There were no chief ones. They were all as alike as halfpennies, every single fault looking monstrous until its fellow fault came along to match it.

I prithee recount some of them.

Please, tell me some of them.

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.

No. I will not waste my medicine except on those who are sick. There is a man who haunts this forest and ruins our young trees by carving "Rosalind" on their bark; he hangs odes on hawthorn trees and elegies on brambles; all of it, if you please, making a god of the name Rosalind. If I could meet that dealer in fancies, I would give him some good advice, because he seems to have a daily fever of love on him.

I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell me your remedy.

I am the one shaken like that by love. Please tell me your cure.

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.

You have none of my uncle's signs on you. He taught me how to recognise a man in love, and I am sure you are not a prisoner in that cage made of rushes.

What were his marks?

What were his signs?

A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not—but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother’s revenue. Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man. You are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.

A thin cheek, which you do not have; a shadowed, sunken eye, which you do not have; a spirit that does not want to be questioned, which you do not have; an untended beard, which you do not have—but I forgive you that, since your whole stock of beard is no more than a younger brother's income. Then your stockings should be without garters, your hat without a band, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you showing a careless wretchedness. But you are no such man. You are rather perfectly neat in your outfit, like a man in love with himself rather than seeming to be in love with anyone else.

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

Handsome young man, I wish I could make you believe that I am in love.

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?

Make me believe it? You might as easily make the woman you love believe it, and I promise you she is readier to believe it than to admit that she does. That is one of the points on which women constantly contradict their own consciences. But, truly, are you the one who hangs the verses on the trees, in which Rosalind is so much admired?

I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

I swear to you, young man, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that man, that unlucky man.

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

But are you as much in love as your poems say?

Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

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.

Love is nothing but a madness, and, I tell you, it deserves a dark cell and a whipping just as much as madmen do; and the reason lovers are not punished and cured that way is that the lunacy is so common that the whippers are in love too. Still, I claim to cure it with advice.

Did you ever cure any so?

Did you ever cure anyone that way?

Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me; at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness, which was to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I 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.

Yes, one, and in this way. He had to imagine that I was his love, his mistress, and I made him court me every day; and at those times I, being nothing but a changeable, moon-like youth, would grieve, be womanish, changeable, full of longing and liking, proud, whimsical, silly as an ape, shallow, unfaithful, full of tears, full of smiles; putting on something for every passion and nothing genuine for any passion, since boys and women are for the most part cattle of that colour; I would like him one moment and loathe him the next; then welcome him, then reject him; one moment weep for him, the next spit at him; so that I drove my suitor out of his mad mood of love into a real mood of madness, which was to give up the whole flowing stream of the world and live in a corner like a monk. And that is how I cured him, and by this method I will undertake to wash your liver as clean as a healthy sheep's heart, so that there will not be one spot of love left in it.

I would not be cured, youth.

I would not want to be cured, young man.

I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me.

I would cure you, if you would only call me Rosalind and come every day to my cottage and court me.

Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.

Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is.

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?

Come there with me, and I will show it to you; and on the way you can tell me where in the forest you live. Will you come?

With all my heart, good youth.

With all my heart, good young man.

Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go?

No, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you come along?