As You Like It

William Shakespeare

• Editorial: Youcanprint
• Año: 2018
• ISBN:
  9788827814260
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: Classics

As You Like It follows its heroine Rosalind as she flees persecution in her uncle's court, accompanied by her cousin Celia and Touchstone the court jester, to find safety and, eventually, love, in the Forest of Arden. Historically, critical response has varied, with some critics finding the work of lesser quality than other Shakespearean works and some finding the play a work of great merit. The play features one of Shakespeare's most famous and oft-quoted speeches, "All the world's a stage", and is the origin of the phrase "too much of a good thing". The play remains a favorite among audiences and has been adapted for radio, film, and musical theater.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.

[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords and Attendants.]

DUKE FREDERICK.Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:Butwere I not the better part made mercy,I should not seek an absentargumentOf my revenge, thou present. But look to it:Find out thybrother wheresoe'er he is:Seekhim with candle; bring him dead orlivingWithin this twelvemonth, or turn thou no moreTo seek a livingin our territory.Thy lands, and all things that thou dost callthineWorth seizure, do we seize into our hands,Till thou canst quitthee by thybrother's mouthOf what we think against thee.

OLIVER.O that your highness knew my heart in this!I never lov'dmy brother in my life.

DUKE FREDERICK.More villain thou.--Well, push him out ofdoors,And let my officers of such a natureMake an extent upon hishouse and lands:Do this expediently, and turn him going.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. The Forest of Arden.

[Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.]

ORLANDO.Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love;And thou,thrice-crowned queen of night, surveyWith thy chaste eye, from thypale sphere above,Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.ORosalind! these trees shall be my books,And in their barks mythoughts I'll character,That every eye which in this forestlooksShall see thy virtue witness'd every where.Run, run, Orlando;carve on every tree,The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.

[Exit.]

[Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.]

CORIN.And how like you this shepherd's life, MasterTouchstone?

TOUCHSTONE.Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is agoodlife; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it isnaught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but inrespect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now inrespectit is inthe fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is notin the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, itfits my humour well; but as there is no moreplenty in it, it goesmuch against my stomach. Hast anyphilosophy in thee, shepherd?

CORIN.No more but that I know the more one sickens, the worseatease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, iswithout three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet,and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that agreat cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hathlearned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, orcomes of a very dull kindred.

TOUCHSTONE.Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever incourt,shepherd?

CORIN.No, truly.

TOUCHSTONE.Then thou art damned.

CORIN.Nay, I hope,--

TOUCHSTONE.Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, allon one side.

CORIN.For not being at court? Your reason.

TOUCHSTONE.Why, if thou never wast at court, thou neversaw'stgoodmanners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thymanners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin isdamnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

CORIN.Not a whit, Touchstone; those that are good manners atthecourt are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of thecountry is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute notat the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would beuncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.

TOUCHSTONE.Instance, briefly; come, instance.

CORIN.Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells,youknow, are greasy.

TOUCHSTONE.Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is notthegrease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man?Shallow,shallow: a better instance, I say;come.

CORIN.Besides, our hands are hard.

TOUCHSTONE.Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again: amoresounder instance; come.

CORIN.And they are often tarred over with the surgery ofoursheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands areperfumed with civet.

TOUCHSTONE.Most shallow man! thou worm's-meat in respect of agoodpiece of flesh indeed!--Learn of the wise, and perpend: civetis of a baser birth than tar,--the very uncleanly flux of a cat.Mend the instance, shepherd.

CORIN.You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest.

TOUCHSTONE.Wilt thou rest damned? God helpthee, shallow man!Godmake incision in thee! thou art raw.

CORIN.Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get thatIwear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of othermen's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of mypride istosee my ewes graze and my lambs suck.

TOUCHSTONE.That is another simple sin in you: to bring theewesand the rams together, and to offer to get your living by thecopulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray ashe-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, outof all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damned for this, thedevil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thoushouldst 'scape.

CORIN.Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress'sbrother.

[Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper.]

ROSALIND.'From the east to western Ind,No jewel is likeRosalind.Her worth, being mounted on the wind,Through all the worldbears Rosalind.All the pictures fairest lin'dAre but black toRosalind.Let no face be kept in mindBut the fair of Rosalind.'

TOUCHSTONE.I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners,andsuppers, and sleeping hours excepted. It is therightbutter-women's rank to market.

ROSALIND.Out, fool!

TOUCHSTONE.For a taste:--If a hart do lack a hind,Let him seekout Rosalind.If the cat will after kind,So be sure willRosalind.Winter garments must be lin'd,So must slenderRosalind.They that reap must sheaf and bind,--Then to cart withRosalind.Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,Such a nut is Rosalind.Hethat sweetest rose will findMust find love's prick, andRosalind.

This is the very false gallop of verses: why do youinfectyourself with them?

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

TOUCHSTONE.Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

ROSALIND.I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it withamedlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit in the country:foryou'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtueof the medlar.

TOUCHSTONE.You have said; but whether wisely or no, let theforest judge.

[Enter CELIA, reading a paper.]

ROSALIND.Peace!Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.

CELIA.

'Why should this a desertbe?

For it is unpeopled? No;Tongues I'll hang on every treeThatshall civil sayings show:Some, how brief the life of manRuns hiserring pilgrimage,That the streching of a spanBuckles in his sum ofage.Some, of violated vows'Twixt the soulsof friend and friend;Butupon the fairest boughs,Or at every sentence end,Will I Rosalindawrite,Teaching all that read to knowThe quintessence of everyspriteHeaven would in little show.Therefore heaven naturecharg'dThat one body shouldbe fill'dWith all graceswide-enlarg'd:Nature presently distill'dHelen's cheek, but not herheart;Cleopatra's majesty;Atalanta's better part;Sad Lucretia'smodesty.Thus Rosalind of many partsBy heavenly synod was devis'd,Ofmany faces, eyes, and hearts,To have the touches dearestpriz'd.Heaven would that she these gifts should have,And I to liveand die her slave.'

ROSALIND.O most gentle Jupiter!--What tedious homily of lovehaveyou wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Havepatience, good people!'

CELIA.How now! back, friends; shepherd, go off a little:--gowithhim, sirrah.

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

[Exeunt CORINand TOUCHSTONE.]

CELIA.Didst thou hear these verses?

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

CELIA.That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.

ROSALIND.Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bearthemselveswithout the verse, and therefore stood lamely in theverse.

CELIA.But didst thou hear without wondering how thy nameshouldbe hanged and carved upon these trees?

ROSALIND.I was seven of the nine days outof the wonder beforeyoucame; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never soberhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which Ican hardly remember.

CELIA.Trow you who hath done this?

ROSALIND.Is it a man?

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

ROSALIND.I pray thee, who?

CELIA.O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet;butmountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.

ROSALIND.Nay, but who is it?

CELIA.Is it possible?

ROSALIND.Nay, I pr'ythee now, with most petitionaryvehemence,tell me who it is.

CELIA.O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful! andyetagain wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!

ROSALIND.Good my complexion! dost thou think, though Iamcaparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose inmydisposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery.I pr'ythee tell me who is it? quickly, and speak apace. I wouldthou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man outof thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd bottle; eithertoo much at once or none at all. I pr'ythee take the cork out ofthy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.

CELIA.So you may put a man in your belly.

ROSALIND.Is he of God's making? What manner of man?Is his headworth a hat or his chin worth a beard?

CELIA.Nay, he hath but a little beard.

ROSALIND.Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful:let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not theknowledge of his chin.

CELIA.It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler'sheelsand your heart both in an instant.

ROSALIND.Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak sad brow andtrue maid.

CELIA.I' faith, coz, 'tis he.

ROSALIND.Orlando?

CELIA.Orlando.

ROSALIND.Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet andhose?--What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'dhe? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Whereremains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see himagain? Answer me in one word.

CELIA.You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a wordtoo great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no tothese particulars is more than to answer in a catechism.

ROSALIND.But doth he know that I am in this forest, and inman'sapparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

CELIA.It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve thepropositions of a lover:--but take a taste of my finding him, andrelish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like adropp'd acorn.

ROSALIND.It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forthsuch fruit.

CELIA.Give me audience, good madam.

ROSALIND.Proceed.

CELIA.There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight.

ROSALIND.Though it be pity to see such a sight, it ...