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 th' 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, at a distance

  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 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 not 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. [Advancing] 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 fall'n 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 abus'd 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 lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?'

  SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe.

  PHEBE. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?

  SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

  PHEBE. Why, I arn 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 extermin'd.

  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 scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon.

  PHEBE. Know'st thou 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
    Betwixt 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 rememb'red, 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

Silvius is begging Phoebe to show him some mercy and say that she loves him. She scorns his love and tells him she does not pity him for the pain he feels while loving her. Rosalind emerges from where she was watching their exchange and tells Phoebe that she is rather plain looking. She further informs Silvius that he flatters Phoebe too much for her own good. Turning back to Phoebe, Rosalind says, "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". Phoebe falls in love with Rosalind in spite of her harsh words. Rosalind urges Phoebe to listen to Silvius and scorns her love. However, she does tell Phoebe where to find her house in the forest. Rosalind then leaves with Celia and Corin. Phoebe is so enamored with Rosalind that she finally is able to empathize with Silvius. She agrees to stay and talk about love with him. Phoebe decides to write a love letter to Rosalind. Silvius agrees to help her

Silvius and Phoebe enter bickering and Rosalind, Celia, and Corin eavesdrop. Silvius is pretty pathetic. He says Phoebe may not love him, but he asks her to at least not be so bitter about the whole thing. Phoebe replies that Silvius claimed her eyes could kill. He has lied, because she has tried to kill him with her eyes and he's still around. Brain snack: Silvius is acting like a typical "Petrarchan lover" here. Petrarch was a 14th-century Italian poet whose love poetry featured the unattainable and cruel Laura, a beautiful woman who drove the poet crazy with her luscious body and cold demeanor. She also had the ability to "wound" men with her icy stare. Phoebe, in case you haven't noticed, acts a lot like Laura. Silvius says if Phoebe ever does find that she fancies him, then she'll understand what it feels like to be wounded by Cupid's arrows. Phoebe says great. Until that happens, leave me alone. Rosalind/Ganymede chimes in and tells Phoebe she really shouldn't be so insulting to poor Silvius, as she's not that cute and she should be grateful that anybody likes her, as she has "bugle eyeballs." Rosalind/Ganymede then turns to Silvius and says he's an idiot for letting Phoebe treat him like garbage. She also adds that it's "fools" like Silvius who are responsible for the world being full of ugly "children." Oh, snap! Rosalind/Ganymede doesn't stop there. She turns back to Phoebe and advises "Sell when you can, you are not for all markets." Phoebe's response? She falls for Rosalind/Ganymede, of course. Rosalind/Ganymede tells Phoebe that would be a big mistake--Rosalind/Ganymede is not what s/he appears to be. Then she heads off with Celia and Corin. Phoebe claims that she now loves Silvius...in an "I don't exactly detest your company anymore" sort of way. She hatches a plan to get Silvius to help her win over Ganymede. Because Silvius is desperately in love, he'll do whatever she wants. Phoebe makes a big speech about she's not in love with Ganymede, even though other women probably would be. Thing is, he scorned her, so she wants to write him a mean letter and have Silvius deliver it for her...except it's pretty obvious that the letter isn't going to be mean. It's going to be a love letter, and Silvius is being played.

As Rosalind, Celia, and Corin secretly watch Silvius pleading for Phebe's favor, we hear her warn him to "come not thou near me." She treats Silvius with utter disdain, but Silvius insists that she will understand his torment when she too is in love. She is not to be persuaded, however, and Rosalind suddenly interrupts the pair and severely chides Phebe for her unresponsiveness to Silvius' pleadings; she recommends, rather unflatteringly, that Phebe take what is offered: "Sell when you can; you are not for all markets." That is her advice to the disdainful shepherdess. Phebe suddenly becomes unaccountably captivated by the superbly disguised Rosalind; the young "man" before her is commanding and disarmingly magnetic. Rosalind and the others leave, and Phebe is left alone with Silvius; she muses about the location of the manly Ganymede's cottage. He is attractive, she thinks, and thus her feelings vacillate between being utterly undone by this "pretty youth" and between being angry at him, the "peevish boy," for his sharp tongue. Since Ganymede is gone, however, she consents to accept the company of Silvius because he can "talk of love so well." Then off they go to write a taunting letter to Ganymede to repay him for his impertinence.

The encounter between Silvius and Phebe is a satire on conventional love -- that is, the lady feels that she is superior to her lover, and her lover, in anguish, swears to die if he is denied her love. The scene also satirizes Silvius and Phebe as representatives of the pastoral genre. The plot, which is already complicated by disguises, is even further complicated in this scene when Phebe falls in love with an attractive "personage" who she thinks is a young man, when "he" is really Rosalind, who in reality was being played on Shakespeare's stage by a young man. Elizabethan audiences, however, loved this kind of whimsical gender gymnastics, and even today, this kind of drag masquerade is sure-fire comedy, provided of course that it is done in broad humor.


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 contemplation of my
    travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in 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 gain'd my experience.

                        Enter ORLANDO

  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.

  ORLANDO. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!

  JAQUES. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse.

  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. [Exit JAQUES] 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
    thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said
    of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' 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 woo'd 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
    gravell'd 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, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had
    his brains dash'd 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 liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had
    turn'd 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 drown'd; and the foolish
    chroniclers 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 wing'd.

  ROSALIND. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have
    possess'd 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 dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when
    thou are inclin'd 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 check 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 misus'd our sex in your love-prate. We must
    have your doublet and hose pluck'd 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, conceiv'd 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

Rosalind, dressed as Ganymede, meets with Jaques for the first time. He explains that he prefers to be melancholy because he has seen the world and his ruminations on what he has seen make him sad. Rosalind tells him that she prefers a fool to keep her merry than experience to make her sad. Orlando arrives and Rosalind says goodbye to Jaques. Orlando approaches her and calls her Rosalind. She chides him for being an hour late and accuses him of not really being in love. Rosalind finally tells Orlando that she is in a good enough humor to allow him to woo her. He tells her he would rather kiss her than speak to her, but she asks Orlando what he would do if she refused. He claims he would die of love. Rosalind laughs at his naivete and tells him no man has ever died of love since the earth began. Orlando finally asks her if she will love him. Rosalind says she will and asks her sister Celia to pretend to marry them. Orlando takes her hand and they perform a mock wedding ceremony. Rosalind then asks him how long he plans to love her. Orlando claims "for ever and a day". Rosalind replies, "men are April when they woo, December when they wed". She then gives Orlando a lecture about the way that women really act once they are married. Orlando is forced to leave her and meet the Duke for dinner, but he promises to return that afternoon. She warns him not to be late this time or she will consider him unworthy to call her Rosalind and pretend she is his lover. After Orlando departs, Celia tells Rosalind that she has slandered the entire female sex the way she is treating Orlando. Rosalind laughs and admits that she is deeply in love with him but cannot yet reveal who she is

One of the great problems for all the characters in As You Like It is the fact that they need to have sustainable happy marriages. Rosalind points out the problem when she tells Orlando that, "men are April when they woo, December when they wed" . This issue of sustaining the fervor with which the married couple loves one another is crucially tied up with the ability to know the virtues and faults of the other person ahead of time. Thus Rosalind takes the time to make Orlando bond with Ganymede. This serves as a way to break his silence towards Rosalind. Not only is the silence gotten rid of, but Rosalind is able to profit from the excesses of the other lovers such as Silvius and Phoebe. Having seen their romantic excess, Rosalind will work to cure Orlando of the same problem. Part of the underlying themes in the play focus on the danger and attraction of the female. This is more apparent than ever before when Orlando comes across Oliver with a female snake around his neck, about to enter his mouth. Having frightened the snake away, Orlando must next fight a female lioness and spill his own blood in the process of defeating it. Only once the female animals have been beaten back can Oliver and Orlando be reunited as brothers. Indeed, this entire scene may indicate the real reason that Orlando was forced to flee from Oliver's house. It is likely that Oliver was jealous of Orlando, who is obviously stronger . This jealousy could be bound up in the issue of marriage, meaning that Oliver was afraid Orlando would be able to marry into a higher social class and thereby achieve dominance over his brother.

Rosalind/Ganymede chats with Jaques about his melancholy. Jaques thinks that a solid approach to life is to be sad and silent, and Rosalind/Ganymede claims he might as well be a fencepost. Jaques then details different types of melancholy and declares that his comes from traveling. Rosalind makes fun of him, naturally. The philosophizing between Rosalind/Ganymede and Jaques gets cut short when Orlando shows up--about an hour late. Rosalind/Ganymede is rather temperamental, first upset at Orlando for being late, then in the mood to be loved and chatted up. Orlando says he would start the conversation with a kiss, if Ganymede were really his lover, but Rosalind/Ganymede says it's wiser to start with conversation and save the kiss for when he runs out of things to say. They do a little verbal sparring, and then Rosalind says she won't have him. Orlando says if that's the case then he'll die. Rosalind/Ganymede wisely points out that men die from a lot of things, but not from love. This bantering ends with Rosalind/Ganymede suggesting that, in the spirit of pretend-wooing, they should have a pretend wedding. Celia/Aliena can play priest and marry the couple. Rosalind/Ganymede and Orlando get fake-married and Orlando declares that, if he could really marry Rosalind, he'd love her forever. Rosalind/Ganymede wryly points out that after a man marries a woman, he quickly loses interest in her. After some more of this kind of talk, Orlando says he must leave for two hours to attend Duke Senior at dinner. He promises not to be a minute late on his return and runs off. Celia berates Rosalind for representing women so poorly in her little charade, but Rosalind is on cloud nine. She tells Celia she's so in love that the depth of her love is deeper than the Bay of Portugal. What's more, she can't stand being away from Orlando. She's going to go sit in the shade and sigh--yes, seriously: sit in the shade and sigh--until he returns. Great, Celia says. While you're doing that, I'll take a nap.

While Celia listens to their arguing, Rosalind and Jaques banter about his melancholy; Jaques maintains that it is "good to be sad and say nothing," while Rosalind maintains that if one is sad and silent, one might as well "be a post." When Orlando finally arrives , Jaques bids Ganymede goodbye. Turning to Orlando, Ganymede berates him for his tardiness, then lovingly invites him to woo Ganymede as if he were Orlando's beloved Rosalind; in turn, Ganymede will tease and taunt Orlando as if he were Rosalind. Ganymede wittily instructs Orlando thus in the wily ways of love and women. "You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue," Orlando is warned. At this point, Orlando says that he must leave to attend Duke Senior at dinner, but he promises to return at two o'clock. After he has gone, Celia accuses Rosalind of speaking ill of women; she suggests that perhaps Rosalind should have her doublet and hose "plucked over head in order to show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest." Rosalind, in answer, says that love has made her a bit mad; she has such a love for Orlando that she cannot bear to be out of his sight. With that, she leaves and goes to "find a shadow and sigh till he come." Celia decides to take a nap.

It is easy fun for the witty and clever Rosalind to tease Jaques, and while she does so, we should be aware that she also satirizes many Elizabethan Englishmen who traveled to the Continent acquiring affected behavior. Jaques of course, is unaware of her satirical teasing, and so he continues on in his sober manner. Other clues as to Jaques' character are provided in this scene when Rosalind describes him as speaking with a "lisp"; to speak with a lisp meant that he spoke with an affected mannerism, probably acquired on his travels to the Continent. She also chides Jaques for turning his back, as it were, on his native country and wearing "strange suits." Orlando's entrance here has been much discussed. Obviously, Jaques and Rosalind are downstage  and begin moving upstage, probably when Jaques decides to leave Rosalind since she insists on talking "in blank verse," meaning in the poetic language of love. Jaques notices Orlando's entrance and acknowledges his greeting. Rosalind pretends not to notice his entrance and moves along, continuing to talk to Jaques. As they move upstage, then, Orlando moves downstage. Thus when Jaques exits, Rosalind turns and pretends surprise. In the encounter between Ganymede and Orlando, Rosalind almost gives herself away because she is so delighted that she is being wooed by Orlando, who, of course, is unaware of her identity. It is Rosalind's utter delight that gives the scene an extraordinary depth of sweetness and gentle humor. In the mock wedding scene, it is important to note that Rosalind's fondest wish is almost made a reality; she is putting the vows of marriage upon Orlando's lips, and she herself replies, "I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband." Even in a comedy such as this, such vows are serious. Rosalind realizes this just in time and teases Orlando that men are "like April when they woo" and that they are "December when they are wed." If she was, as Celia accused her of being earlier, harsh on women, she now turns her witty jesting toward the men. Furthermore, she warns the lovesick Orlando that she, the "Rosalind" of his dreams, will be "more jealous of  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." All this is possible. She is every bit as in love with Orlando as he is with her. Lovers, she is saying, are a bit mad; she realizes this truth about herself, and, thus, she half-teasingly, half-seriously, promises him that Rosalind will "weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain" and that Rosalind will weep when Orlando is "dispos'd to be merry." Rosalind-as-wife will be no soft, pliant, submissive lady. Rosalind will, in fact, be herself -- high-spirited and bewitchingly exciting.


SCENE II.

The forest

        Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the habit of foresters

  JAQUES. Which is he that killed the deer?

  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?

  LORD. Yes, sir.

  JAQUES. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise
    enough.

                    SONG.

      What shall he have that kill'd the deer?
      His leather skin and horns to wear.
                              [The rest shall hear this burden:]
           Then sing him home.

      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

One of the Duke's lords has just killed a deer. Jaques, opposed to killing animals , tells the men present that they should present it to the Duke. He then makes the lords sing a hunting song which describes them wearing the deer's horns, a sign of cuckoldry

Jaques and the lords are back at the forest and, because all the talking in the play needs to be broken up by something, there's a musical interlude. Jaques suggests that the guy who killed the deer during the recent hunt should put the deer antlers on his head and be presented to the Duke. The guys sing a song that starts off being about deer-hunting but ends up being about how all men are cheated on by their wives.

Several of Duke Senior's followers have been hunting, and one of them has killed a deer. Jaques suggests that they "present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror," and they carry out their slaughtered trophy, singing "What shall he have that kill'd the deer?"

This scene is a sequel to the last scene. Jaques again assumes his pose as critic-at-large. It is characteristic of him to criticize a song before it is sung, and this song, one might note, is concerned with the horns of the deer. This is a sexual reference to a man's being a cuckold -- that is, the husband of an unfaithful wife, a situation which the Elizabethan audiences never tired of as a source for comedy. Throughout all of literature, the cuckolded husband has been the butt of many comedies.


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 did 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 tenour. 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. '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 the
            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 endur'd! Well, go your way to her,
    for I see love hath made thee 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 fenc'd 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 wreath'd 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 liv'd 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 purpos'd 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 awak'd.

  CELIA. Are you his brother?

  ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd?

  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 bath'd,
    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,
    Dy'd 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

Rosalind is waiting for Orlando to meet her but he is late again. Silvius instead arrives and hands her a letter that he claims Phoebe wrote. He denies knowing what the letter says other than that its tone is angry, but Rosalind does not believe him. Finally she takes out the letter and reads it in front of Silvius. The letter is a love poem and does not chide her in the least. Instead Phoebe declares her love for Rosalind. Silvius is taken aback by the contents of the letter. Rosalind, feeling sorry for him, sends him back to Phoebe with the message that Phoebe must love Silvius or she will never love Phoebe. Oliver, Orlando's older brother, shows up and asks if the women can tell him how to get to Rosalind's house. He is still searching for Orlando whom Duke Frederick ordered him to bring back to court. He asks if they are the owners, and Celia admits that they are. Oliver then presents Rosalind, whom he thinks is a man, with a bloody handkerchief that Orlando asked him to give. Oliver tells Rosalind that while he was asleep in the forest, Orlando happened to come across him sleeping under an oak tree. A large green snake had curled herself around Oliver's neck and was about to enter into his open mouth. When Orlando arrived it uncurled itself and crept into some bushes. Under those bushes a lioness lay waiting, her udders nursed dry, thereby making her ferociously hungry. Orlando, having seen all this, approached his older brother. Orlando almost left his brother sleeping there but instead chose to battle the lioness and kill her. Oliver woke up at the noise of Orlando fighting and realized that his brother had saved his life. He immediately regretted ever trying to kill Orlando. Orlando took Oliver to the Duke's cave and made sure his brother received hospitality. Orlando then fainted from loss of blood and Oliver had to bind up his brother's arm. Once Orlando woke up again, he asked Oliver to take the handkerchief to Rosalind and tell her the story. Rosalind faints once Oliver presents her with the handkerchief. Celia calls Rosalind, "Ganymede, sweet Ganymede. until she wakes up. Oliver tells Rosalind that she does not have a man's heart. She admits as much, but asks him to tell Orlando that she faked fainting. Oliver says that it was too real to have been faked and tells her to fake being a man a little more. He finally leaves her to return to Orlando and tell him how she reacted to the story

Over two hours later, Rosalind/Ganymede and Celia ponder over Orlando, who hasn't shown up yet. Silvius enters, with a letter from Phoebe to "Ganymede." Rosalind reads the thing and is shocked by the contents and accuses Silvius of forging the letter. The letter, by the way, basically says "You were really mean to me and I love you for it. If you don't love me back, I'll die." Worst of all, Phoebe writes that Ganymede can send his response to her through Silvius. Poor Silvius! Rosalind, tells Silvius to give Phoebe some instructions: If Phoebe loves Ganymede, then Ganymede commands her to love Silvius. If she won't do that, then Ganymede won't take her, unless Silvius convinces him to take her. Um...OK. Silvius leaves with the message. Then Oliver, Orlando's older brother, randomly shows up in the forest. Oliver has been trying to find these two in particular, and recognizes Ganymede, who has been described as a "fair boy of female favor" with a short sister. It turns out that Oliver has just come from a visit with Orlando, who has recently been wounded by an angry mama lion. Oliver hands over a bloody napkin as proof. Rosalind/Ganymede is just as confused as we are, until Oliver explains what's been going on. The story goes like this: After Orlando left Ganymede, he discovered a ragged man sleeping under an oak. A green-gold snake was wrapped around the man's neck, ready to bite him in the mouth. Fortunately, when the snake saw Orlando, it got scared and slipped away under a bush. Conveniently, a hungry lioness was waiting under that same bush for that same man to wake up. Orlando approached the sleeping man, who he discovered was his older brother, Oliver. Imagine that. Celia and Rosalind chime in that they've heard stories of how awful that brother was, and Oliver continues that Orlando twice turned his back, but just couldn't bring himself to leave his wicked brother to the hungry lioness. Instead, Orlando fought the lion and saved his wicked brother's life. Now, Oliver admits that he is the wicked brother in the story. He says he's undergone a "conversion," meaning that, since Orlando has risked his own life to save Oliver twice, he no longer feels like murdering his own flesh and blood. Um...what about the bloody handkerchief? Right. Well...everything is great now, except that Orlando didn't fare so well and fainted from a wound he received while fighting the lioness. Rosalind, on hearing this whole story, "swoons" . As she recovers, she remembers her masculine disguise, and that men aren't really supposed to swoon. Oliver teases "Ganymede" for acting like a girl. Rosalind/Ganymede laughs it off, saying she did a good job of acting like a woman there, which was part of her master plan. Ho, ho, ho. Oliver doesn't buy it, and recommends that the next time the boy pretends, he should pretend to be a man. Celia, concerned with all the fainting, tries to get Rosalind/Ganymede home.

It is past two o'clock, and Orlando has not arrived for his meeting with Ganymede. Silvius does arrive, however, bringing Phebe's letter to Ganymede, and Rosalind playfully pretends that it is, as the illiterate shepherd supposed, full of invective, and she teasingly accuses Silvius of writing it because it is a "man's invention and his hand." But when she stops and actually reads the letter aloud, even the gullible Silvius realizes that the note is, in actuality, a love poem -- to Ganymede. Silvius is ordered to return to Phebe with this message: "if she loves me , I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her." A stranger arrives onstage next. It is Oliver; he has come in search of Ganymede, and he presents "him" with a token from Orlando, a bloody handkerchief. He explains that Orlando, while walking in the forest, discovered Oliver sleeping under an oak. A snake had coiled itself around Oliver's neck, but because it was frightened by Orlando's entrance, it slid away. Nearby, a hungry lioness waited for Oliver to awaken before pouncing upon him. After debating with himself whether to save Oliver or leave him to certain death, Orlando fought and killed the lioness. Oliver, awakening to see his brother risking his life to save him, realized that his brother loved him deeply, and so his hatred for Orlando changed to love. Now reconciled, the brothers proceeded to Duke Senior's encampment, where Oliver discovered that the lioness had torn Orlando's flesh. He has brought the handkerchief which Orlando used to bind his wounded arm, and he presents it to Ganymede with apologies for Orlando's broken promise -- that is, he presents it "unto the shepherd youth / That he in sport doth call his Rosalind." At this point, Ganymede swoons. As he is helped up and led away, he insists -- although not very convincingly -- that his fainting was merely an act, an unconscious reaction by his persona, "Rosalind."

In the brief exchange between Ganymede and Silvius, at first Rosalind isn't sure if Silvius is aware of the contents of the letter. She only pretends to read it, therefore, and gives a false interpretation of the contents. Finally, she asks Silvius if the letter was written by him. It is a clever ruse to discover whether or not he is aware of the contents. Realizing that Silvius is ignorant of the message, Rosalind, with compassion, reads the letter aloud  and attempts to misconstrue its meaning. But Silvius is not so easily duped; Rosalind, therefore, drops all pretense and reads the full letter. It is interesting here to note that Celia expresses pity for Silvius, but Rosalind, in keeping with her manly characterization of Ganymede, sneers at pity. Likewise, Ganymede's command to Phebe, via Silvius, is in keeping with the indifference shown to Phebe in Act III, Scene 5. When Oliver makes his entrance, he says, "Good morrow, fair ones. The use of the word "fair" was in keeping with the times when men could also be described as being "fair." Certainly Oliver is unaware of Rosalind's disguise, as evidenced by his use of "you" in line 85, where he describes Rosalind as being both "fair" and "a boy" and where he describes Celia as being "a woman" and "browner than her brother." Oliver's sudden conversion from hate to love for his brother, one should note, though it might strain the credulity of a modern audience, was a commonplace device in Elizabethan plays. Sudden conversions can also be found in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, All's Well That Ends Well, and Cymbeline. When Oliver tells Ganymede about Orlando's wound, Ganymede faints, but Celia, being quick-witted, remembers to call her cousin "Ganymede." However, Celia does slip when she inadvertently refers to Ganymede as "Cousin Ganymede" in line 160. Luckily, Oliver misses this error on Celia's part. Rosalind, on awakening, resumes the game that she is playing with Oliver, and the comic masquerade continues as she tells him to tell Orlando that Ganymede "counterfeited" so well that when he heard that Orlando had been wounded, he swooned, as if he were, really, the fair, faint-hearted Rosalind.


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.

                         Enter WILLIAM

  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.

  WILLIAM. Good ev'n, Audrey.

  AUDREY. God ye good ev'n, William.

  WILLIAM. And good ev'n to you, sir.

  TOUCHSTONE. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy
    head; nay, prithee be cover'd. 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' th' 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 say'st 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 pour'd out of 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;
    will o'er-run 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

Touchstone and Audrey are still together. Audrey is anxious to get married and Touchstone promises they will soon find someone who can perform the ceremony. He then asks her about another man who claims her. Before Audrey can speak the other man, named William, enters. He is a polite man who is in love with Audrey. After being polite for a short while, Touchstone orders him to leave Audrey and allow her to marry him instead. He threatens to kill William if he should try to approach Audrey again. William leaves and Corin arrives and tells them that Rosalind orders them to come to her

The brutishness of the court when transplanted into the countryside is again made apparent in the final act. Touchstone sends William away from Audrey and threatens his life. This is an inversion of the stereotype that brutality comes in from the country, not the other way around. William is even excessively polite in spite of the threats that Touchstone makes toward him, undermining the necessity of the threats in the first place.. The true turning point for Orlando and Rosalind is when Oliver and Celia fall in love. The reason is that Celia now leaves Rosalind and shifts her focus onto Oliver. The love at first site of Oliver and Celia even causes Orlando to exclaim, "I, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes" . Rosalind asks him, "tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?" . Orlando tells her, "I can live no longer by thinking" . This last line marks the true turning point. Orlando can no longer live by thinking, by imagining that Ganymede is his Rosalind. He instead is ready to have the real Rosalind for his wife and therefore refuses to play the game with Ganymede. Understanding this, Rosalind immediately promises to arrange for Orlando to marry her the next day. One of the most unusual scenes is where Silvius, Phoebe and Orlando tells Rosalind what it is like to be in love. Silvius describes it as, "It is to be all made of sighs and tears" . This is again the overdone love that Rosalind avoids, she is too wise for this excess. However, Orlando is not yet past this point. He willingly mimics the other two by inserting Rosalind's name after each phrase. Rosalind eventually gets fed up with this entire production and orders them to stop. Shakespeare pokes a great deal of fun at the institution of marriage at the very end. He introduces the character of Hymen, the god of marriage, into what has turned into four marriages. Jaques alone seems to realize how funny and pathetic this is, "There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark" . He sees the scene for what it is, a ceremony in which the characters are herded, two by two, into the ark of marriage. A strong theme that emerges at the end is the language of wanting. In fact, this theme has always been present, but never to such a blatant degree. The title itself suggest the act of wanting, "As You Like It". Touchstone is the character who makes it obvious in his speech about lying and dueling. He indicates the many uses of "if" to avoid a duel, stating that "Your if is the only peacemaker" . The "if" represents the possibilities that are inherent in each situation, "if I bring...you will bestow" , "you'll marry me if I be willing?" , "you'll have Phoebe if she will" . Each of these "ifs" indicates another possible outcome to the play, a different path other than the one that is eventually chosen. The Epilogue is unique because it is done by Rosalind in her woman's clothes. This makes As You Like It the only Elizabethan play known where a woman ends the play. Rosalind thus goes from a woman to a man, and reemerges as Rosalind for her wedding. However, to confuse the plot even more, Shakespeare makes her point out the fact that she is only a male playing a female role, "If I were a woman" . This breaking down of the sexual boundaries results in forcing the audience to confront their own sexuality and to question whether it is as absolute as assumed. As usual in a Shakespearian comedy there are excluded characters at the end, namely Jaques and Adam. However, this ending is inclusionary. Rosalind mentions all the men and women present, thereby breaking down the barrier between the stage and the audience. Where the play at first excluded Jaques, Adam and Orlando's father, they are now all included again. This serves to further draw the audience into the play and make the themes present more a part of everyday life rather than an anomaly seen on stage.

In another part of the forest, Audrey admits to Touchstone that another man is in love with her. Just then, the other man, William, wanders in and Touchstone chats with him about his background. Touchstone sweetly suggests, in both the language of the forest and the court, that William get lost or Touchstone will kill him. Here's a little sample: "I will kill/ thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore, tremble, and depart." William is off, with a hearty "God rest you merry, sir." With that potential plot-disruption out of the way, Corin is free to enter and announce to Touchstone that Ganymede and Aliena want him immediately. As in, now.

When the scene opens, Audrey is fretting about her postponed marriage; "Faith, the priest was good enough," she whines, but Touchstone changes the subject by mentioning a youth "here in the forest" who has claimed Audrey as his own. This rustic character, William, now appears, and in answer to Touchstone's question "Art thou wise?" he replies, "Ay, Sir, I have a pretty wit." To this, Touchstone responds by quoting a saying beginning "The fool doth think he is wise." Thus, Touchstone quickly reduces William to a state of stupefaction. William meekly goes away, and Corin arrives with word that Touchstone is wanted by Aliena and Ganymede.

Note that in this scene, Touchstone, in addressing William, uses the condescending pronoun "thou," while William uses the more respectful pronoun "you." Here, William, like Audrey and Corin, is used by Shakespeare to contrast the real country characters with the pastoral lovers, Silvius and Phebe. Characteristic of real country people, we see, is an inability to easily express themselves. The longest sentence used by William, for example, contains six words, and most of his sentences are three to four words in length. As an additional dramatic point, one should realize that in this encounter, William takes the remarks of Touchstone quite seriously, even though he doesn't fully comprehend them. In addition, Audrey also has trouble following Touchstone's wit, for she is just as simple as William is. However, at the beginning of the scene, Audrey does realize that it will be no easy matter to get Touchstone before the altar.


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 show'd me your handkercher?

  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 look'd; no sooner look'd but
    they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but
    they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but
    they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made 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, convers'd
    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 to-morrow, human as she is, and without any
    danger.

  ORLANDO. Speak'st 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 follow'd 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 obedience;
    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. Why do you speak too, '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

Oliver has fallen in love with Celia at first site. Orlando is amazed by this, asking his brother, "Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her. Oliver is so excited that he even promises to give Orlando all of his estate so that he may remain in the country with Celia. Oliver further announces that he plans to get married the next day. Orlando consents to the marriage but feels heavy hearted because he misses Rosalind. She arrives, still pretending to be Ganymede, and Oliver leaves in order to allow his brother to speak with her. They both remark on how fast Celia and Oliver fell in love, but Orlando comments, "I, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes". He complains that in spite of his brother's happiness, he will be depressed the next day during the wedding because he wants to be with Rosalind. Rosalind asks him, "tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind. In a turning point in the play, Orlando tells her, "I can live no longer by thinking". Rosalind tells Orlando that she can perform seemingly magical things. She promises that if he consents, she will arrange it so that he can marry Rosalind the next day at the same time Oliver and Celia get married. Silvius and Phoebe arrive together. Phoebe is still in love with Ganymede and Silvius still loves Phoebe. Rosalind tells Phoebe to look at Silvius and love him instead. Phoebe turns to Silvius and asks him to inform Rosalind of what it is like to love. He replies, "It is to be all made of sighs and tears". All of the various lovers agree with him, naming the person they love. Rosalind finally gets fed up with the nonsense and emotional excess around her. She turns to each of them and orders them to show up tomorrow, promising that she will make sure they all get married

Now conferring in the forest with Orlando, Oliver shares some surprising news with his brother. He has fallen in love with "Aliena," and she with him, even though they just met that afternoon. Oliver has decided to give their father's estate to Orlando so he can live as a shepherd with Aliena. Orlando's a bit taken aback, but two-minute-love is nothing new, so he agrees that, if they love each other, they might as well get married tomorrow. Why take a few days to think about a life-altering decision? Rosalind/Ganymede enters and talks to Orlando about Aliena's engagement to Oliver. Orlando admits he's happy for his brother's happiness, but that Rosalind's absence will weigh on him heavily, especially tomorrow when everyone's getting married and he's the odd-bachelor out. Orlando says that his and Ganymede's play-acting just won't cut it anymore, so Rosalind/Ganymede promises that, tomorrow, Orlando will marry his Rosalind, if he'll have her. Silvius and Phoebe enter the scene. Phoebe is upset at Ganymede for showing Silvius her love letter and she says as much. Silvius declares his love for Phoebe, Phoebe declares her love for Ganymede, Orlando declares his love for Rosalind, and Ganymede declares his love for "no woman." Rosalind/Ganymede says that everyone should meet back here tomorrow and promises Phoebe that, if he ever marries a woman, it will be her. Ganymede then promises everyone that they will all be getting married tomorrow. This would be a bind, if not for all the handy cross-dressing and deceit that will now finally unravel.

Oliver has fallen in love with Aliena at first glance, and he tells Orlando that she has consented to marry him. He vows to give to Orlando his "father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Roland's . . . and here live and die a shepherd." Orlando approves of the marriage, and it is then scheduled for the following day. Rosalind, as Ganymede, enters and tells of the whirlwind courtship of Aliena and Oliver in which they "no sooner looked but they loved." When Orlando confesses his own "heart-heaviness" because he is without his own true love, Ganymede tells him that he, Ganymede, is knowledgeable in the art of magic and says, "If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her ," and Ganymede promises to "set her before eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any danger." Phebe and Silvius join them then, and Phebe expresses her love for Ganymede, Silvius expresses his love for Phebe, Ganymede says that he loves "no woman," and Orlando sighs for the absent Rosalind. Ganymede promises them, however, that they shall all be married on the morrow and bids them meet her then.

By having Orlando raise the question of Oliver's sudden love for Aliena, it is possible that Shakespeare might have been trying to apologize for his departure from Lodge's novel Rosalynde. In the novel, Aliena is rescued from a band of ruffians by an older brother. However, to further complicate the play with these added characters and incidents would have slowed its movement. Shakespeare was correct in omitting this plot development. Moreover, he had laid the groundwork for Oliver's sudden falling in love when Phebe earlier quoted from Marlowe on the subject of "1ove at first sight"  and when Oliver was suddenly "converted" to goodness. This particular parody on romantic love illustrates the extremes between Silvius and Phebe on the one hand and between Oliver and Celia on the other. In contrast, true romantic love is represented in the lead characters of Orlando and Rosalind, who at least briefly engage in conversation before succumbing to romantic love. Of interest also in this particular scene is the matter of Rosalind's claiming to be a magician, capable of divining the future. Rosalind here introduces a popular topic -- magic, a subject that fascinated Elizabethan audiences. In addition, Rosalind's prophesying the multiple marriages for the next day foreshadows the arrival of Hymen in the final scene.


SCENE III.

The forest

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY

  TOUCHSTONE. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audre'y; 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 come
    two of the banish'd 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' th' 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 the 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 the 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 the 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 deceiv'd, 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 buy you; and God mend your voices. Come,
    Audrey.                                               Exeunt

Touchstone and Audrey are commenting on how wonderful the next day will be when they get married. Two of Duke Senior's pages arrive and Touchstone asks them to sing a song for him. They do, after which he gets up and comments that it was a waste of time to listen to such a foolish song

Audrey and Touchstone are in the forest, and both look forward to getting married tomorrow . Audrey hopes that her desire to be a married woman isn't immodest. Two of Duke Senior's pages find them and agree to sing a little song for the occasion. They sing about what happens in the country every spring--the birds sing and couples have sex in rye fields. Brain Snack: The Barenaked Ladies did a version of this song for a 2005 production of the play. Touchstone, ever the romantic, finds the tune badly sung and senseless. He teases that, though the pages kept musical time, they've wasted his time. Zing! Then he's off with Audrey.

"To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey," Touchstone tells his true love; "to-morrow will we be married." They are entertained then by two of the duke's pages, who sing, appropriately, "It was a lover and his lass." Afterward, Touchstone bids the minstrels "God be wi' you; and God mend your voices!"

This dialogue between Touchstone and Audrey is a sequel to their dialogue in Act V, Scene 1. In that scene, Audrey in her simple way realized that marrying Touchstone would be no simple matter. In this scene, her "desire to be a woman of the world" seems about to be realized. This scene is also used to give the players time to prepare for the elaborate masque in the next scene. The entrance of the two pages and their subsequent song prelude the arrival of Hymen. In the song, love is praised, especially the beauty of young love and the fact that life is short and love is for the young. It is noteworthy in this connection that unlike Jaques, Touchstone does not criticize the song until it is sung, and, even then, the thrust of his criticism is with the fact that "there was no great matter in the ditty," but he also adds that it was very "untunable." Until now, Jaques has never been so cleverly witty.


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 urg'd:
    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 promis'd 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 call'd 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 flatt'red 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-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a
    poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that 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 call'd 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 call'd the Quip
    Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment.
    This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut,
    he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof
    Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie.
    This is call'd the Countercheck 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 measur'd 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
    Countercheck 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 peace-maker; 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] 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 restor'd to them again
    That were with him exil'd. 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 endur'd 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 th' 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] 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]

Exeunt

EPILOGUE
                           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
    furnish'd 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 simp'ring 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
    pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd 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.

THE END

Duke Senior is gathered with all of his men, Orlando, Oliver and Celia. The Duke asks Orlando whether he believes Ganymede will be able to do everything he said he would. Orlando tells him he can only hope it is true. Rosalind arrives with Phoebe and Silvius. She then asks the Duke if he will marry his daughter Rosalind to Orlando if she can make Rosalind appear. He agrees that he will. Orlando further agrees to marry Rosalind if she shows up. Phoebe has meanwhile promised that she will marry Ganymede, but that if she should refuse to marry Ganymede then she will accept Silvius as her husband. Rosalind and Celia then disappear in order to change their appearances. Touchstone and Audrey arrive, and Jaques remarks, "There is sure another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark". Touchstone then discourses on the proper etiquette about challenging someone to a duel. He makes fun of the procedures, naming seven degrees of accusing someone of lying before a duel must be fought. Touchstone finishes his discourse by explaining how using the word "if" can settle all disputes. Once Touchstone is finished, Hymen, the god of marriage, enters with Rosalind and Celia. Hymen rhymes every line and gets all four couples to join together. They are all married at once. Jaques De Bois, the middle brother of Orlando and Oliver, shows up to inform them that Duke Frederick had gathered an army and planned to round up all the men in the forest. However, on the way there he met a religious man and was converted. Duke Frederick resigned his crown and returned it to Duke Senior, choosing instead to join a monastery. Jaques, the melancholy character, decides to leave the woods and spend time with the newly converted Duke. Orlando becomes the heir to the entire Dukedom as a result of his marriage to Rosalind. Epilogue Rosalind performs the Epilogue and tells the audience that she hopes they enjoyed the play. She then makes a pointed reference to the fact that "If were a woman" she would kiss the men present. This reference to the fact that a male is playing her role is unusual. Rosalind ends the play with a curtsy and bids the audience farewell

Orlando and Duke Senior confer, each professing hope that Ganymede can keep all of his promises. Rosalind/Ganymede enters, and for dramatic effect, s/he makes Silvius, Phoebe, and Orlando promise to do what s/he says: Orlando must swear to marry Rosalind if Ganymede can produce her; Phoebe must promise to marry Silvius if she doesn't want to marry Ganymede; Silvius must swear that he will marry Phoebe if Phoebe will have him. As Rosalind/Ganymede leaves with Celia/Aliena, Orlando and Duke Senior note the resemblance between the Ganymede and Rosalind. How curious! Now we get back to Jaques, who comments that a flood must be coming because of all the couples are pairing up just like the animals that entered Noah's ark in twosies. Touchstone and Audrey arrive. Jaques and Duke Senior talk about how witty Touchstone is. As they chatter, Hymen, goddess of marriage, enters with Rosalind and Celia, who have ditched their Ganymede and Aliena costumes and are ready to get hitched to their men. Let the recognition begin! Duke Senior recognizes his daughter, Orlando recognizes his love, and Phoebe recognizes that she has to marry either Silvius or a woman. Hymen pronounces that the four couples--Orlando and Rosalind, Oliver and Celia, Silvius and Phoebe, and Touchstone and Audrey--will all be joined in marriage. Before the crowd can celebrate by eating wedding cake and doing the chicken dance, Jaques de Boys, brother to Orlando and Oliver, makes a dramatic entrance. Jaques de Boys delivers some good news: Duke Frederick had raised an army, intending to murder and pillage Duke Senior's forest hideaway. No, that's not the good news. The good news is that just as Duke Frederick was leading that army to the forest, he stopped and had a chat with an old religious man. The man instantly convinced Frederick not to murder his brother in cold blood, and to leave the courtly world and give up all his worldly possessions. Well, Duke Senior gets his dukedom back, which Orlando will now inherit because he's marrying into the family. Oliver also gets his land and title back, which is good. Now everyone, including Duke Senior, can return to the court and get out of that forest. Before they return, though, they agree to party like it's 1599. Jaques, still melancholy, doesn't join the dance but goes instead to join Duke Frederick in the religious life. This is fitting, because if anyone deserves to be harassed by the melancholy Jaques, it's good ol' Duke Frederick. Everyone goes back to dancing and general merriment until they all exit, leaving only Rosalind on the stage.

The climactic wedding day is now at hand. Among those present are Duke Senior, Jaques, and the three couples: Orlando and Rosalind , Oliver and Celia , and Phebe and Silvius. Rosalind extracts a promise from Phebe that if Phebe refuses to marry Ganymede, then Phebe will marry Silvius. Rosalind announces to the expectant company that she is prepared to unravel the entanglements. "From hence I go," she declares as she leaves with Celia, "to make these doubts all even." While they are gone, Touchstone arrives with Audrey and proceeds to entertain the company with his account of "a lie seven times removed" -- the so-called Lie Direct. Here, because there was no Lie Direct, he and his opponent avoided a duel. Rosalind and Celia reappear suddenly, as if by magic, dressed as themselves. Strains of soft music usher them in, and they are led by a young man costumed as Hymen, god of marriage. The recognitions and reconciliations are quickly accomplished, and as Hymen sings a "wedlock-hymn," the couples join hands. Duke Senior welcomes a daughter and a niece, and Phebe gives her love to Silvius. But there is yet another happy surprise in store. Jaques de Boys, the second son of Roland de Boys, enters with remarkable news: Duke Frederick, he announces, called together an army and planned to capture and execute his brother, but at the outskirts of the forest, he met an old, religious hermit and 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 againThat were with him exil'd. Duke Senior welcomes the young man and invites everyone to join in the "rustic revelry." Only Jaques begs off; instead, he will join Frederick and his party of religious converts. With appropriate farewells to each -- Duke Senior, Orlando, Oliver, Silvius, and Touchstone -- Jaques goes off, leaving the others to perform the dance that concludes the play.

The stage is set and the couples are assembled. Silvius and Phebe in the characteristic pastoral style offer to die if their love is unrequited, and Jaques, in one of his usual critical quips, comments that Touchstone and Audrey are fools. Touchstone, of course, would not agree; from his opening speech, he seems almost unapproachable. In fact, his actions are so affected in this scene, suggestive of dramatic royalty on stage, that Touchstone becomes the consummate "fool" among the courtiers and noblemen. Of course, however, only such a master dramatist as Shakespeare could devise such magnificent "foolery." Rosalind is imagined by those on stage to be summoned by the magical enchantment of Hymen, and from her and Celia's entrances on stage until the epilogue, the play becomes a fully realized masque. Short though it is, however, this petite masque is the forerunner of Shakespeare's grande masque in The Tempest. Jaques is perhaps as consistent a character from beginning to end as can be found in all of literature. For that reason, his exit is wonderfully choice and witty; he who criticized country living from the start, chooses to remain in the country, while all those from the city or court who extolled the virtues of pastoral life are now ready to return to their former lives in the city. The fact that Jaques' farewell is put in the form of a last will and testament is fitting because he will join Duke Frederick in a religious life, becoming, as it were, "dead" to the world. Yet in no sense will the memory of the mercurial Jaques be "dead"; his melodramatic posing, his "operatic" melancholy, and his realization that life itself is probably no more than a theatrical spectacle -- all these qualities immortalize Jaques, the quintessence of "the man apart."