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Part 13

As You Like It · William Shakespeare — chapter 13 of 27 · ~1,008 words · public domain

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Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I eate: get that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happinesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme: and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, & my Lambes sucke

Clo. That is another simple sinne in you, to bring the Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bawd to a Belweather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldly Ramme, out of all reasonable match. If thou bee'st not damn'd for this, the diuell himselfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot see else how thou shouldst scape

Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mistrisses Brother. Enter Rosalind

Ros. From the east to westerne Inde, no iewel is like Rosalinde, Hir worth being mounted on the winde, through all the world beares Rosalinde. All the pictures fairest Linde, are but blacke to Rosalinde: Let no face bee kept in mind, but the faire of Rosalinde

Clo. Ile rime you so, eight yeares together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right Butter-womens ranke to Market

Ros. Out Foole

Clo. For a taste. If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde, Let him seeke out Rosalinde: If the Cat will after kinde, so be sure will Rosalinde: Wintred garments must be linde, so must slender Rosalinde: They that reap must sheafe and binde, then to cart with Rosalinde. Sweetest nut, hath sowrest rinde, such a nut is Rosalinde. He that sweetest rose will finde, must finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde. This is the verie false gallop of Verses, why doe you infect your selfe with them? Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree

Clo. Truely the tree yeelds bad fruite

Ros. Ile graffe it with you, and then I shall graffe it with a Medler: then it will be the earliest fruit i'th country: for you'l be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's the right vertue of the Medler

Clo. You haue said: but whether wisely or no, let the Forrest iudge. Enter Celia with a writing.

Ros. Peace, here comes my sister reading, stand aside

Cel. Why should this Desert bee, for it is vnpeopled? Noe: Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree, that shall ciuill sayings shoe. Some, how briefe the Life of man runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span, buckles in his summe of age. Some of violated vowes, twixt the soules of friend, and friend: But vpon the fairest bowes, or at euerie sentence end; Will I Rosalinda write, teaching all that reade, to know The quintessence of euerie sprite, heauen would in little show. Therefore heauen Nature charg'd, that one bodie should be fill'd With all Graces wide enlarg'd, nature presently distill'd Helens cheeke, but not his heart, Cleopatra's Maiestie: Attalanta's better part, sad Lucrecia's Modestie. Thus Rosalinde of manie parts, by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd, Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts, to haue the touches deerest pris'd. Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue, and I to liue and die her slaue

Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people

Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah

Clo. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Enter.

Cel. Didst thou heare these verses? Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feete then the Verses would beare

Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare y verses

Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse

Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees? Ros. I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember

Cel. Tro you, who hath done this? Ros. Is it a man? Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck: change you colour? Ros. I pre'thee who? Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes, and so encounter

Ros. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it possible? Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is

Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping

Ros. Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle: either too much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly

Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard? Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard

Ros. Why God will send more, if the man will bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin

Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers heeles, and your heart, both in an instant

Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde brow, and true maid

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