Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: As You Like It (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: David Bevington
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-369-4

    Copyright David Bevington. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: David Bevington
    Peer Reviewed

    As You Like It (Folio 1, 1623)

    As you like it.
    prate: we must haue your doublet and hose pluckt ouer
    your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done
    2110to her owne neast.
    Ros. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou
    didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue: but
    it cannot bee sounded: my affection hath an vnknowne
    bottome, like the Bay of Portugall.
    2115Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as fast as you poure
    affection in, in runs out.
    Ros. No, that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that was
    begot of thought, conceiu'd of spleene, and borne of
    madnesse, that blinde rascally boy, that abuses euery
    2120ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge,
    how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be
    out of the sight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a shadow, and
    sigh till he come.
    Cel. And Ile sleepe. Exeunt.

    2125Scena Secunda.

    Enter Iaques and Lords, Forresters.

    Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?
    Lord. Sir, it was I.
    Iaq. Let's present him to the Duke like a Romane
    2130Conquerour, and it would doe well to set the Deares
    horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you
    no song Forrester for this purpose?
    Lord. Yes Sir.
    Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, so it
    2135make noyse enough.

    Musicke, Song.

    What shall he haue that kild the Deare?
    His Leather skin, and hornes to weare:
    Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen;
    2140Take thou no scorne to weare the horne,
    It was a crest ere thou wast borne,
    Thy fathers father wore it,
    And thy father bore it,
    The horne, the horne, the lusty horne,
    2145Is not a thing to laugh to scorne. Exeunt.

    Scœna Tertia.

    Enter Rosalind and Celia.
    Ros. How say you now, is it not past two a clock?
    And heere much Orlando.
    2150Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,
    Enter Siluius.
    He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth
    To sleepe: looke who comes heere.
    Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,
    2155My gentle Phebe, did bid me giue you this:
    I know not the contents, but as I guesse
    By the sterne brow, and waspish action
    Which she did vse, as she was writing of it,
    It beares an angry tenure; pardon me,
    2160I am but as a guiltlesse messenger.
    Ros. Patience her selfe would startle at this letter,
    And play the swaggerer, beare this, beare all:
    Shee saies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,
    She calls me proud, and that she could not loue me
    2165Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will,
    Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,
    Why writes she so to me? well Shepheard, well,
    This is a Letter of your owne deuice.
    Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents,
    2170Phebe did write it.
    Ros. Come, come, you are a foole,
    And turn'd into the extremity of loue.
    I saw her hand, she has a leatherne hand,
    A freestone coloured hand: I verily did thinke
    2175That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:
    She has a huswiues hand, but that's no matter:
    I say she neuer did inuent this letter,
    This is a mans inuention, and his hand.
    Sil. Sure it is hers.
    2180Ros. Why, tis a boysterous and a cruell stile,
    A stile for challengers: why, she defies me,
    Like Turke to Christian: vvomens gentle braine
    Could not drop forth such giant rude inuention,
    Such Ethiop vvords, blacker in their effect
    2185Then in their countenance: vvill you heare the letter?
    Sil. So please you, for I neuer heard it yet:
    Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie.
    Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant vvrites.

    Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?
    2190That a maidens heart hath burn'd.

    Can a vvoman raile thus?
    Sil. Call you this railing?

    Ros.Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part,
    War'st thou with a womans heart?
    2195Did you euer heare such railing?

    Whiles the eye of man did wooe me,
    That could do no vengeance to me.
    Meaning me a beast.

    If the scorne of your bright eine
    2200Haue power to raise such loue in mine,
    Alacke, in me, what strange effect
    Would they worke in milde aspect?
    Whiles you chid me, I did loue,
    How then might your praiers moue?
    2205He that brings this loue to thee,
    Little knowes this Loue in me:
    And by him seale vp thy minde,
    Whether that thy youth and kinde
    Will the faithfull offer take
    2210Of me, and all that I can make,
    Or else by him my loue denie,
    And then Ile studie how to die.
    Sil. Call you this chiding?
    Cel. Alas poore Shepheard.
    2215Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty:
    wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an in-
    strument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be en-
    dur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath
    made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she
    2220loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will
    neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a
    true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more
    company. Exit. Sil.

    Enter Oliuer.
    2225Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you know)
    Where in the Purlews of this Forrest, stands