As You Like It, William Shakespeare [the false prince TXT] 📗

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